"One Loss Away From Elimination"
Maurae's eyes flicked from Dean to the clock and back to Dean. Three seconds. Three...seconds...It was three seconds into the game against Iceland, and Den Portman had been thrown out of the game. Not penalized or benched, but thrown out. She watched as he was escorted out of the rink, watched as he glared back at the bench, at Coach Bombay, in his snazzy new suit, and then punched the boards before stalking off to the locker room.
She traded looks with the others and looked back up at the clock. Dragging her eyes away, she encountered Gunnar, smirking at her. She was seriously getting tired of him. She sat down, waiting for a change-up, her call to play.
Five minutes on the ice, and she hadn't been touched. Aware that her luck might not last, she passed it to Adam, closer to the net. He shot just as she was carried backwards and slammed into the boards with the force of a Mack truck. Her wind gone, she collapsed and lay still, trying to suck in air. She saw Adam score and saw Olaf crack his stick down over Adam's right wrist. And she continued to try and breathe. Goldberg finally noticed that she hadn't moved and called for a time-out, skating over to her and dropping to his knees.
"Hey, Ro, you okay?" She nodded, but couldn't say anything. Charlie and Fulton grabbed her under the arms and hauled her to her feet. She finally gasped in a breath- of pain. They towed her to the bench and sat her down before getting back into the game.
"That was your first contact in six weeks, Ro," Julie said, helping her friend drink some water.
"Nine and a half," Connie corrected. "No one could touch her in all the games we played on the street court, either."
"How do you feel?"
"I hurt," Maurae wheezed. "I can barely breathe, and I know my ribs are at least bruised. But Adam. Where is he? I saw that idiot slam his wrist."
"Adam's fine. Either that or he's being stoic," Guy replied as he sat down, taking Connie's place on the bench. Maurae took the time to look around then. She noticed a black street kid harassing Jesse, but turned her attention away from her capable friend and back to Luis, now taking Guy's place on the bench as the blond searched for his water bottle.
"How are you feeling, Ro?" he asked, pulling off his helmet and gloves and dumping a trickle of water on his head. It streamed down his sweaty face and she smiled weakly.
"I'll live, albeit painfully. How are you holding up?"
"I'm hanging in there." He wiped his face on his sleeve and smiled broadly before turning back to the game. Maurae tuned back in, breathing easier, in time to see Dwayne get knocked over from behind and sent flying towards the boards. He slid to a stop, dazed, but unhurt, got back up, and skated towards the puck, stealing it again.
Ken went in, attempting to use his small size and some expert figure skating moves to split the Iceland defense, only to limp back to the bench after getting thrown into the wall. Bombay's face and voice got colder and harder as the game progressed. Iceland scored again and again, until finally, Bombay called Goldberg in. With a sigh of relief, Julie skated out to take her place.
"Go get 'em, Julie!" Goldberg said as they met on the ice.
"Thanks, Goldberg."
She placed her stick on top of the goal as the relieved and exhausted Goldberg stepped into the team box. Maurae saw Stahl and Sanderson move to harass her.
"Send in a woman to do a man's job!"
"Ha ha! Don't break a nail!" Julie's shoulders stiffened, but she turned around with a sunny smile.
"I'm sorry boys. But could you help me with my pads please?" Maurae shook her head as Julie knocked both of them flat.
"That's intent to injure. You're out of here. Let's go, young lady," declared the ref.
"See you around, fellas." She grabbed her gear and Goldberg slid back onto the ice with an eye roll and a sigh of frustration.
"Thanks for the breather," he said sarcastically as they crossed paths again. Julie stepped off the ice and followed Portman's steps from earlier, disappearing into the locker room.
The high point of the game was the ten minute rest period they got between the second and third periods. Bombay came and let them blow off steam to each other in the locker room.
Maurae noticed Adam's wince when he took off his gloves. She sat down next to him. "Let me see it," she commanded quietly. Obediently, he let her take his injured wrist in her hands. "I don't think it's broken; you can still move your fingers, right?" He nodded. "I think you just need to tape it and got get it x-rayed after the game today. All right?"
"Okay. I'll find some tape, and wrap it later."
"Now," she said, reaching behind her for athletic tape. She shoved back his sleeves and pads and quickly taped the wrist. Over it, she wrapped an Ace bandage that she'd fished out of the locker room's first aid kit when no one was looking. She helped him resituate his sleeve and put the glove back on. "Better?"
"Much," he replied, more to get her off his case than because it was true. The thing hurt like hell. He was being stoic.
"Good. We've still got a period of hell left before we lose."
He looked at her sharply. "What's wrong with you? You're never pessimistic!"
"Maybe I am and you've just never seen it," she shot back. She grabbed her inhaler and took one puff. Her fall earlier hadn't helped her breathing and she needed a little help. "But, face it, Adam. We're eight points down already. You were the only one to score a goal. Dean and Julie are out for the game, everyone's exhausted. The goalie managed to catch Fulton's slap-shot. Ken's got bruised ribs, or something equally painful. I can barely breathe; your wrist is tender, Jesse's pissed off at someone in the stands, Dwayne is bruised from multiple falls. Luis is dazed from head-on collisions with various walls of both fiberglass and muscle. Face it, Ads. We're going to lose. That isn't pessimism. It's reality. I'm actually seeing it for once."
He shook his head, but he had to admit that she had a point. None of it looked good. They returned to the bench, minus Julie and Portman, who had changed and left earlier, pissed off about something.
The third period went worse than the rest. Iceland scored three more goals in five minutes. Iceland won twelve to one. It was a disheartened group that returned to the locker room. Julie sat in front of the TV, still in her pads, while Portman hovered behind her, eyes smoldering with anger.
Bombay arrived and gathered them onto the seats and tables in the middle of the locker room. "Twelve to one, huh? Twelve...to...one. You know what word comes to mind when I think of that? PATHETIC!" They cringed back from him. "We are one loss away from elimination!"
"Coach Stansson knew everything about us!" Julie said passionately in their collective defense. "THEY were ready for us!"
"And what about you!" Jesse interjected.
"What about me, Jesse?" Bombay reposted.
"You spend all your time driving around in convertibles, or talking to all them sponsor fools," Luis put in.
"Or hanging out with the Iceland lady," Fulton added quietly, obviously catching Bombay off guard. "We saw you two Saturday night."
"Eating ice cream with the enemy, huh, Coach?" Dean said accusingly.
"Hey...hey, what I do, is none of your business, all right?" Bombay shot back fiercely, defending himself. The team just shook their heads and started to pull off jerseys and pads. "Don't take those pads off! Everyone stay in your gear. We have practice."
Shocked silence pervaded the room for a few minutes before Goldberg finally spoke up with, "Tonight?!"
* * * *
Exhausted, Maurae nearly fell over when Bombay whistled a halt. She collapsed against Luis and both dropped to the ice, panting with exertion. Charlie was bent over, near Bombay.
"This isn't very much fun, Coach," he was saying.
"Who said it was supposed to be fun?" Bombay snapped. Charlie straightened, apparently surprised.
"You did...when you coached the Ducks."
"I don't see any Ducks here, Charlie. All I see is Team USA, one loss away from elimination. You guys may want to go home early, but I as heck don't. Twenty more sprints! Let's go! I'll keep you here all night if I have to." Luis let Fulton haul him to his feet, and helped Dwayne get Maurae up, clutching the pain in her side. "Get back in line, Charlie."
He blew the whistle and started them off again. Maurae was numb, her body on automatic. She didn't even notice when Luis grabbed her arm to tell her practice was finally over. It was almost ten-thirty, on a Saturday night. They had been practicing since six. She swayed on her skates and almost fell. Dwayne grabbed one arm, Luis the other, and Fulton pushed from behind as they worked on getting her to the locker room still conscious. She sat on her stool and merely stared about her for a moment, her exhausted body and mind not wanting to function, let alone function in tandem.
Julie watched her, and watched the three solicitous boys helping her change. Luis helped her off with her skates and the thick padded pants. Fulton directed the removal of the jersey and the upper pads while Dwayne merely focused on keeping his own eyes open and keeping her on the stool. Once she was down to her stretch pants and bodysuit, they turned to their own changing and shower, leaving her in Julie's hands.
Her eyes were glazed with exhaustion and pain. "I'll see if I can't get them to help you to the room so you can go to bed, okay?" she asked, smoothing back the sweaty hair. Maurae nodded and slid to the floor, too dizzy to stay on the stool without falling off.
"Jules, am I weak?"
"No, of course not."
"Then why am I the only one close to collapse? Why am I the only one who had to have help to change?"
"Because you played hard for most of the game, took a nasty fall, probably bruised some ribs, and had to practice hard for four hours after suffering a crushing defeat. And because you're already tired and in pain from other things. You're just exhausted. All of us are." She hugged her. "Just get back to the room, take a shower there, where you won't have room to fall over in exhaustion, and go to bed, okay?" Maurae nodded mutely, but didn't move.
"Could you ask one of the guys to walk me there? I don't think I could handle meeting another player alone in the halls."
"Of course. If I mention that, you'll have half the team walking you, leaving Guy for Connie, and the rest for me." Julie returned to her locker and pulled off her pads and things, waiting for someone to come out of the boys' shower. The first one to come was Dwayne, who looked as tired as Maurae. "Dwayne?"
"Yes, Julie?" he replied politely.
"Could you do me a favor and walk Maurae to our room when you're done changing? She doesn't want to run into any of the other teams' players when she's alone and as tired as she is."
"Of course I will!" he exclaimed with a 'did-you-even-have-to-really-ask' tone of voice. Julie smiled her thanks and went to take her own shower. Dwayne changed swiftly and helped Maurae up, putting an arm around her shoulders.
He walked her to the elevator, thinking she wasn't up for the stairs. And even if she was, he didn't think his legs could take it. They rode it up two floors to the main floor and they left the rink building, heading out for the dorms.
They took the elevator to the fourth floor and he walked her to the end of the hall to the room she shared with Connie and Julie. She was coherent enough by then to find the key and unlock the door.
"Thank you," she managed in a whisper. She kissed his cheek and disappeared into the room, leaving him grinning after her for a moment before he started back down the hallway to his own room.
Meanwhile, Maurae had sat on the end of her bed, gathering energy to take a shower. Too tired to be sleepy, she got up and went into the bathroom, turning on the hot water and grabbing the things she'd need.
She was just pulling on her sleepwear when Julie and Connie helped each other into the room, each falling facefirst onto a bed. Connie fell onto Maurae's bed and only moved when the other girl squeegeed water from her long hair onto Connie's back. Wearily, she climbed onto the top bunk and within seconds was asleep. Maurae shut off the light, having braided her hair in the bathroom, and got into the bottom bunk, asleep when she hit the pillow.
Too tired to dream, and too tired to escape sleep even at the insistence of knocks at the door, the three girls slept until nearly noon the next day. Maurae woke up first, feeling grumpy, sore, and still tired. She went to the bathroom and examined her sore ribs. They had indeed been bruised in the previous night's game. She had lovely purple and black stripes running along her sides and lower chest.
Julie was unharmed, and awake by the time she emerged from the bathroom, but Connie was in bad shape. No one's faces were maimed, but Connie had a bruise under her ear, on the side of her throat. Her shoulders and arms were speckled with new bruises, as colorful as Maurae's. Julie prodded her awake, having discovered the message taped to the door.
"I don't believe this! It's Sunday! Our day off, for crying out loud!" She showed Maurae and the still-groggy Connie the paper. Bombay was calling them all to practice at two.
"We may be 'one loss away from elimination,'" Maurae said, quoting Bombay's words from the night before. "But I'd rather be eliminated from the tournament that killed by exhaustion." Julie and Connie agreed wholeheartedly, but the three of them got dressed anyway and headed to the dining hall. No one else looked any more awake or any happier than the three girls. No one on their team anyway.
"Good game last night," smirked Gunnar as he walked by, trailed by Olaf. Maurae stood slowly, her temper finally reaching and passing the boiling point to his ignition.
"Shut up," she said slowly, her words dripping with scorn, fury, and complete resentment. "You think you're better than us? At least we're gracious winners. We don't parade in front of the losing team with our noses in the air, making stupid taunts. You may have bested us on the ice once, but we've bested you in manners more than once. One more crack at us about how girls aren't as good, or about how badly we did on an off night, and I will personally ensure that YOU won't be playing in our next game!" And even though she was half a foot shorted and ten pounds lighter than him, despite the fact that he was backed by Olaf, her threat carried through, and he backed off.
Her teammates stared at her as she sat down, her face unreadable. None of them had ever seen her lose her temper. Most were sure that she didn't have one. And they were all shocked that she'd managed to tell off the leading scorer in the tournament, and him a lot bigger than her.
She stared disdainfully after them before turning her attention to her plate. "I'm not hungry."
"Eat something, or you won't make it through practice this afternoon." Adam sat next to her, watching until she ate, making sure she actually consumed something. The last thing they needed was for her to faint and Bombay to bench her for the next game.
* * * *
The next week was monotonous. All that week there were no games, which meant classes all day followed by grueling four-hour practices, both indoors and out. After Sunday's four-hour practice session, none of them could get enough sleep. With class, homework, practice, and conditioning sessions, none of them had time to think an independent thought. Not that they'd have been able to, exhausted as they were.
Friday, Miss McKay stopped in the middle of her lecture on osmosis to wake up first Luis and then Maurae. Finally she gave up. "Go to bed, all of you. I'm canceling tonight's practice. I'm canceling tomorrow morning's inevitable practice too. Get some rest, all of you. And homework is postponed until next Friday."
A weak cheer went up and they departed, showing more signs of life on their way to oblivion than they had since their loss the previous Saturday. She trudged to the locker room and sat down outside it to wait.
Bombay came striding up, not even noticing her. "Okay, let's go!" he shouted, before noticing the empty locker room. He searched the showers and came back out, confused and a little angry. "Team?"
"I cancelled their practice," she said firmly, making him turn to look at her.
"What?"
"They needed a day off."
"I need them here to practice!"
"Well they need to REST! You've been running those children ragged. They can barely stay awake in class...they're calling you Captain Blood!"
"Do you not understand me? I am preparing these kids for battle. We win the gold, we go on to bigger things."
"Bigger things?! Gordon, please! It's a game! You said it yourself, games should be fun!"
Games should be fun...
Maurae's eyes flicked from Dean to the clock and back to Dean. Three seconds. Three...seconds...It was three seconds into the game against Iceland, and Den Portman had been thrown out of the game. Not penalized or benched, but thrown out. She watched as he was escorted out of the rink, watched as he glared back at the bench, at Coach Bombay, in his snazzy new suit, and then punched the boards before stalking off to the locker room.
She traded looks with the others and looked back up at the clock. Dragging her eyes away, she encountered Gunnar, smirking at her. She was seriously getting tired of him. She sat down, waiting for a change-up, her call to play.
Five minutes on the ice, and she hadn't been touched. Aware that her luck might not last, she passed it to Adam, closer to the net. He shot just as she was carried backwards and slammed into the boards with the force of a Mack truck. Her wind gone, she collapsed and lay still, trying to suck in air. She saw Adam score and saw Olaf crack his stick down over Adam's right wrist. And she continued to try and breathe. Goldberg finally noticed that she hadn't moved and called for a time-out, skating over to her and dropping to his knees.
"Hey, Ro, you okay?" She nodded, but couldn't say anything. Charlie and Fulton grabbed her under the arms and hauled her to her feet. She finally gasped in a breath- of pain. They towed her to the bench and sat her down before getting back into the game.
"That was your first contact in six weeks, Ro," Julie said, helping her friend drink some water.
"Nine and a half," Connie corrected. "No one could touch her in all the games we played on the street court, either."
"How do you feel?"
"I hurt," Maurae wheezed. "I can barely breathe, and I know my ribs are at least bruised. But Adam. Where is he? I saw that idiot slam his wrist."
"Adam's fine. Either that or he's being stoic," Guy replied as he sat down, taking Connie's place on the bench. Maurae took the time to look around then. She noticed a black street kid harassing Jesse, but turned her attention away from her capable friend and back to Luis, now taking Guy's place on the bench as the blond searched for his water bottle.
"How are you feeling, Ro?" he asked, pulling off his helmet and gloves and dumping a trickle of water on his head. It streamed down his sweaty face and she smiled weakly.
"I'll live, albeit painfully. How are you holding up?"
"I'm hanging in there." He wiped his face on his sleeve and smiled broadly before turning back to the game. Maurae tuned back in, breathing easier, in time to see Dwayne get knocked over from behind and sent flying towards the boards. He slid to a stop, dazed, but unhurt, got back up, and skated towards the puck, stealing it again.
Ken went in, attempting to use his small size and some expert figure skating moves to split the Iceland defense, only to limp back to the bench after getting thrown into the wall. Bombay's face and voice got colder and harder as the game progressed. Iceland scored again and again, until finally, Bombay called Goldberg in. With a sigh of relief, Julie skated out to take her place.
"Go get 'em, Julie!" Goldberg said as they met on the ice.
"Thanks, Goldberg."
She placed her stick on top of the goal as the relieved and exhausted Goldberg stepped into the team box. Maurae saw Stahl and Sanderson move to harass her.
"Send in a woman to do a man's job!"
"Ha ha! Don't break a nail!" Julie's shoulders stiffened, but she turned around with a sunny smile.
"I'm sorry boys. But could you help me with my pads please?" Maurae shook her head as Julie knocked both of them flat.
"That's intent to injure. You're out of here. Let's go, young lady," declared the ref.
"See you around, fellas." She grabbed her gear and Goldberg slid back onto the ice with an eye roll and a sigh of frustration.
"Thanks for the breather," he said sarcastically as they crossed paths again. Julie stepped off the ice and followed Portman's steps from earlier, disappearing into the locker room.
The high point of the game was the ten minute rest period they got between the second and third periods. Bombay came and let them blow off steam to each other in the locker room.
Maurae noticed Adam's wince when he took off his gloves. She sat down next to him. "Let me see it," she commanded quietly. Obediently, he let her take his injured wrist in her hands. "I don't think it's broken; you can still move your fingers, right?" He nodded. "I think you just need to tape it and got get it x-rayed after the game today. All right?"
"Okay. I'll find some tape, and wrap it later."
"Now," she said, reaching behind her for athletic tape. She shoved back his sleeves and pads and quickly taped the wrist. Over it, she wrapped an Ace bandage that she'd fished out of the locker room's first aid kit when no one was looking. She helped him resituate his sleeve and put the glove back on. "Better?"
"Much," he replied, more to get her off his case than because it was true. The thing hurt like hell. He was being stoic.
"Good. We've still got a period of hell left before we lose."
He looked at her sharply. "What's wrong with you? You're never pessimistic!"
"Maybe I am and you've just never seen it," she shot back. She grabbed her inhaler and took one puff. Her fall earlier hadn't helped her breathing and she needed a little help. "But, face it, Adam. We're eight points down already. You were the only one to score a goal. Dean and Julie are out for the game, everyone's exhausted. The goalie managed to catch Fulton's slap-shot. Ken's got bruised ribs, or something equally painful. I can barely breathe; your wrist is tender, Jesse's pissed off at someone in the stands, Dwayne is bruised from multiple falls. Luis is dazed from head-on collisions with various walls of both fiberglass and muscle. Face it, Ads. We're going to lose. That isn't pessimism. It's reality. I'm actually seeing it for once."
He shook his head, but he had to admit that she had a point. None of it looked good. They returned to the bench, minus Julie and Portman, who had changed and left earlier, pissed off about something.
The third period went worse than the rest. Iceland scored three more goals in five minutes. Iceland won twelve to one. It was a disheartened group that returned to the locker room. Julie sat in front of the TV, still in her pads, while Portman hovered behind her, eyes smoldering with anger.
Bombay arrived and gathered them onto the seats and tables in the middle of the locker room. "Twelve to one, huh? Twelve...to...one. You know what word comes to mind when I think of that? PATHETIC!" They cringed back from him. "We are one loss away from elimination!"
"Coach Stansson knew everything about us!" Julie said passionately in their collective defense. "THEY were ready for us!"
"And what about you!" Jesse interjected.
"What about me, Jesse?" Bombay reposted.
"You spend all your time driving around in convertibles, or talking to all them sponsor fools," Luis put in.
"Or hanging out with the Iceland lady," Fulton added quietly, obviously catching Bombay off guard. "We saw you two Saturday night."
"Eating ice cream with the enemy, huh, Coach?" Dean said accusingly.
"Hey...hey, what I do, is none of your business, all right?" Bombay shot back fiercely, defending himself. The team just shook their heads and started to pull off jerseys and pads. "Don't take those pads off! Everyone stay in your gear. We have practice."
Shocked silence pervaded the room for a few minutes before Goldberg finally spoke up with, "Tonight?!"
* * * *
Exhausted, Maurae nearly fell over when Bombay whistled a halt. She collapsed against Luis and both dropped to the ice, panting with exertion. Charlie was bent over, near Bombay.
"This isn't very much fun, Coach," he was saying.
"Who said it was supposed to be fun?" Bombay snapped. Charlie straightened, apparently surprised.
"You did...when you coached the Ducks."
"I don't see any Ducks here, Charlie. All I see is Team USA, one loss away from elimination. You guys may want to go home early, but I as heck don't. Twenty more sprints! Let's go! I'll keep you here all night if I have to." Luis let Fulton haul him to his feet, and helped Dwayne get Maurae up, clutching the pain in her side. "Get back in line, Charlie."
He blew the whistle and started them off again. Maurae was numb, her body on automatic. She didn't even notice when Luis grabbed her arm to tell her practice was finally over. It was almost ten-thirty, on a Saturday night. They had been practicing since six. She swayed on her skates and almost fell. Dwayne grabbed one arm, Luis the other, and Fulton pushed from behind as they worked on getting her to the locker room still conscious. She sat on her stool and merely stared about her for a moment, her exhausted body and mind not wanting to function, let alone function in tandem.
Julie watched her, and watched the three solicitous boys helping her change. Luis helped her off with her skates and the thick padded pants. Fulton directed the removal of the jersey and the upper pads while Dwayne merely focused on keeping his own eyes open and keeping her on the stool. Once she was down to her stretch pants and bodysuit, they turned to their own changing and shower, leaving her in Julie's hands.
Her eyes were glazed with exhaustion and pain. "I'll see if I can't get them to help you to the room so you can go to bed, okay?" she asked, smoothing back the sweaty hair. Maurae nodded and slid to the floor, too dizzy to stay on the stool without falling off.
"Jules, am I weak?"
"No, of course not."
"Then why am I the only one close to collapse? Why am I the only one who had to have help to change?"
"Because you played hard for most of the game, took a nasty fall, probably bruised some ribs, and had to practice hard for four hours after suffering a crushing defeat. And because you're already tired and in pain from other things. You're just exhausted. All of us are." She hugged her. "Just get back to the room, take a shower there, where you won't have room to fall over in exhaustion, and go to bed, okay?" Maurae nodded mutely, but didn't move.
"Could you ask one of the guys to walk me there? I don't think I could handle meeting another player alone in the halls."
"Of course. If I mention that, you'll have half the team walking you, leaving Guy for Connie, and the rest for me." Julie returned to her locker and pulled off her pads and things, waiting for someone to come out of the boys' shower. The first one to come was Dwayne, who looked as tired as Maurae. "Dwayne?"
"Yes, Julie?" he replied politely.
"Could you do me a favor and walk Maurae to our room when you're done changing? She doesn't want to run into any of the other teams' players when she's alone and as tired as she is."
"Of course I will!" he exclaimed with a 'did-you-even-have-to-really-ask' tone of voice. Julie smiled her thanks and went to take her own shower. Dwayne changed swiftly and helped Maurae up, putting an arm around her shoulders.
He walked her to the elevator, thinking she wasn't up for the stairs. And even if she was, he didn't think his legs could take it. They rode it up two floors to the main floor and they left the rink building, heading out for the dorms.
They took the elevator to the fourth floor and he walked her to the end of the hall to the room she shared with Connie and Julie. She was coherent enough by then to find the key and unlock the door.
"Thank you," she managed in a whisper. She kissed his cheek and disappeared into the room, leaving him grinning after her for a moment before he started back down the hallway to his own room.
Meanwhile, Maurae had sat on the end of her bed, gathering energy to take a shower. Too tired to be sleepy, she got up and went into the bathroom, turning on the hot water and grabbing the things she'd need.
She was just pulling on her sleepwear when Julie and Connie helped each other into the room, each falling facefirst onto a bed. Connie fell onto Maurae's bed and only moved when the other girl squeegeed water from her long hair onto Connie's back. Wearily, she climbed onto the top bunk and within seconds was asleep. Maurae shut off the light, having braided her hair in the bathroom, and got into the bottom bunk, asleep when she hit the pillow.
Too tired to dream, and too tired to escape sleep even at the insistence of knocks at the door, the three girls slept until nearly noon the next day. Maurae woke up first, feeling grumpy, sore, and still tired. She went to the bathroom and examined her sore ribs. They had indeed been bruised in the previous night's game. She had lovely purple and black stripes running along her sides and lower chest.
Julie was unharmed, and awake by the time she emerged from the bathroom, but Connie was in bad shape. No one's faces were maimed, but Connie had a bruise under her ear, on the side of her throat. Her shoulders and arms were speckled with new bruises, as colorful as Maurae's. Julie prodded her awake, having discovered the message taped to the door.
"I don't believe this! It's Sunday! Our day off, for crying out loud!" She showed Maurae and the still-groggy Connie the paper. Bombay was calling them all to practice at two.
"We may be 'one loss away from elimination,'" Maurae said, quoting Bombay's words from the night before. "But I'd rather be eliminated from the tournament that killed by exhaustion." Julie and Connie agreed wholeheartedly, but the three of them got dressed anyway and headed to the dining hall. No one else looked any more awake or any happier than the three girls. No one on their team anyway.
"Good game last night," smirked Gunnar as he walked by, trailed by Olaf. Maurae stood slowly, her temper finally reaching and passing the boiling point to his ignition.
"Shut up," she said slowly, her words dripping with scorn, fury, and complete resentment. "You think you're better than us? At least we're gracious winners. We don't parade in front of the losing team with our noses in the air, making stupid taunts. You may have bested us on the ice once, but we've bested you in manners more than once. One more crack at us about how girls aren't as good, or about how badly we did on an off night, and I will personally ensure that YOU won't be playing in our next game!" And even though she was half a foot shorted and ten pounds lighter than him, despite the fact that he was backed by Olaf, her threat carried through, and he backed off.
Her teammates stared at her as she sat down, her face unreadable. None of them had ever seen her lose her temper. Most were sure that she didn't have one. And they were all shocked that she'd managed to tell off the leading scorer in the tournament, and him a lot bigger than her.
She stared disdainfully after them before turning her attention to her plate. "I'm not hungry."
"Eat something, or you won't make it through practice this afternoon." Adam sat next to her, watching until she ate, making sure she actually consumed something. The last thing they needed was for her to faint and Bombay to bench her for the next game.
* * * *
The next week was monotonous. All that week there were no games, which meant classes all day followed by grueling four-hour practices, both indoors and out. After Sunday's four-hour practice session, none of them could get enough sleep. With class, homework, practice, and conditioning sessions, none of them had time to think an independent thought. Not that they'd have been able to, exhausted as they were.
Friday, Miss McKay stopped in the middle of her lecture on osmosis to wake up first Luis and then Maurae. Finally she gave up. "Go to bed, all of you. I'm canceling tonight's practice. I'm canceling tomorrow morning's inevitable practice too. Get some rest, all of you. And homework is postponed until next Friday."
A weak cheer went up and they departed, showing more signs of life on their way to oblivion than they had since their loss the previous Saturday. She trudged to the locker room and sat down outside it to wait.
Bombay came striding up, not even noticing her. "Okay, let's go!" he shouted, before noticing the empty locker room. He searched the showers and came back out, confused and a little angry. "Team?"
"I cancelled their practice," she said firmly, making him turn to look at her.
"What?"
"They needed a day off."
"I need them here to practice!"
"Well they need to REST! You've been running those children ragged. They can barely stay awake in class...they're calling you Captain Blood!"
"Do you not understand me? I am preparing these kids for battle. We win the gold, we go on to bigger things."
"Bigger things?! Gordon, please! It's a game! You said it yourself, games should be fun!"
Games should be fun...