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Four
I knew my head hurt before I even realized I was awake. I lay with my face down in the pillow for a few minutes before I realized what had woken me up. Someone was banging furiously on my door. I groaned loudly, struggling out from under the covers and then to my feet. I could feel my head spinning from the effort and I stumbled backwards and landed back down in bed. I looked at the clock, reading 4:06 AM. I groaned.
"You've got to be kidding me," I whined. The person at the door was relentless. "I'm coming!" I yelled. Bad choice, my head was throbbing. I pulled myself to my feet and crossed the room to the door.
"Herb," I started up in surprise, opening the door in my Goofy boxers and a white t-shirt.
"What are you doing?" He demanded without missing a beat. "We have a flight back to St. Paul in half an hour."
"Oh, come on," I moaned, rolling my eyes.
"What are you waiting for?" He demanded. "Hurry up, we've got to go!" I ran back into my room, grabbed a wrinkled sweat suite out of my duffel bag and threw them on over my p.j.'s; I pulled my hair into a sloppy bun on the crown of my head, and then gathered all my things and headed back out the door.
"Gotta boogey, sweetheart," Uncle Herb instructed, ushering me out to the charter buses that were rented for the team. I felt a little uncomfortable getting on the bus with all those guys. Maybe it was my typical, hung-over wariness of men mixed with a lack of knowledge of what had happened the previous night. Or maybe it was just the fact that I was too lazy to put a bra on this morning.
I was sitting by myself as the boys started boarding the plane. Buzz and Mac were in the pair of seats in front of me, and Jannie was behind me. I was half asleep when Rizzo plumped down next to me.
"How you feeling?" He asked friendlily.
"Better," I said without opening my eyes. "Need more sleep." He smiled; my God I could actually hear him smiling.
"How much did you drink?" He asked carefully. I looked over and rolled my eyes at him.
"Obviously not enough," I answered. "I was hoping I'd still be drunk."
"You know you might want to take it easy," he warned. I was ready to laugh, this guy had known me for a day—maybe—and already he was telling me the same thing Jannie, Buzz, and Mac had been telling me for years.
"What are you?" I asked, "My mother." He gave me a funny look.
"You don't seem the type to quote Jack O'Callahan," he said.
"Why would I do that?" I asked.
"You just did," he answered.
"I did?" He nodded.
"O.C. said something to that effect last night," he reminded me. I shrugged. "Right before he stormed away angrily."
"I don't recall," I said. He gave me the kind of look you can't really put a name on when you're hung over.
"Get some sleep," he told me before getting up to go sit with Jack.
After the pilot signaled it was okay to unbuckle your seatbelts and move around the plane, Uncle Herb came over and sat next to me.
"Could you do me a favor, and make up a rooming list for the boys." He asked. "I want all the Minnesota players rooming with Boston players." I nodded, and went to grab a notebook and pen out of my carry on.
"I want you to put Mac and O.C. in a room," he continued. My eyes widened a little, as a looked at him in disbelief.
"I understand where you're coming from, Uncle Herb," I told him. "But that's like mixing bleach and ammonia. I want them to get along too, but I don't want any dead hockey players on our hands either."
"Do you trust me?" He asked.
"Of course I do," I told him. He cut me off.
"Then just trust me on this one." I took a deep breath.
"Alright," I said. "But when someone's suing for wrongful damages, remember this was your idea." He nodded, getting up to sit with Coach Pat.
I took out a team roster and checked the boys off as I put them in rooms. O'Callahan and McClanahan; I grimaced; Robbie was going to kill me for this. Buzz and Rizzo played in the World Championship together, and from the locker room talk I had heard, they both snored. To me that was a match made in heaven. I skimmed down the list and figured it made sense to put Jannie in a room with Jimmy Craig.
(3rd person)
Jimmy took a seat next to Steve Janaszak on the plane and leaned back in his seat. Then he realized who was sitting just in front of them.
"So do you know that Faye, girl?" He asked curiously. Jannie nodded.
"Yea, we went to school together," he answered. "She's the best." Jimmy raised his eyebrows.
"She came across as a little conceited," Jimmy answered.
"She doesn't have a father you know," Jannie said in his friend's defense.
"A what?" Jim asked.
"A father," he answered. "She doesn't have a father. She usually doesn't trust guys when she first meets them. It took Buzzy, and Mac, and me most of high school to get to know her." Jimmy leaned back in his chair with a sigh,
"Oh, crap."
(1st person)
We had practice for a few hours the minute we got back to the U. Herb wanted to run some scrimmages, and get the boys used to playing with one another.
I was sitting on the bench, watching Mark Johnson skating around with the puck. He was a great skater, and a great player, but Uncle Herb definitely wasn't liking the way he didn't pass. There was a metallic 'Clink' as Johnson scored, but Herb still didn't look happy.
"Johnson! That coast to coast stuff may work here, but it won't against the teams we'll be playing." Herb warned him, "Next." I watched as the next line headed out onto the ice.
"Morrow let be take this one," I heard O.C. say as he hopped over the boards. I saw the look he was giving Robbie, and I seriously started to regret putting them in the same dorm.
"This is a break out play gentlemen," Uncle Herb reminded them. "So please let's get rid of the puck early." He blew the whistle and the play began.
"Here! Here!" Rob called for the puck, and Jack started to run him down. The sound that followed can only be described as a loud: Schmack! Kinda like the bag of potatoes we dropped onto the basketball court in physics. Mac was in that class, he thought it was funny. Now I just think he's very sympathetic towards the potatoes.
"Whatcha hitting like that for O.C.," one of the boys asked.
"He didn't even have the puck," another went on.
"That's bush league, OC." Harrington shot.
"Nice hit O.C.," Dave Silk called from the bench. I had to resist the strong urge to go over there and schmack that cocky grin right off Davie's face. I didn't have any strong feelings for Mac, but I had to look out for my Minnesota babies didn't I?
"Tell your boy to keep his head up, next time he won't have to worry about it," Jack warned. I suddenly felt an intense hatred for him bubbling up in me. He was sitting there all hunched over for a few minutes before recovering and going after O'Callahan.
"Come on lets go," he yelled in anger. I watched Coach Pat go to stop them, but Uncle Herb interceded.
"Let them go," he said. I was astounded. I couldn't believe Herb was going to let them carry on like this, but I had put my total faith in him so far, so I was just going to trust him on this.
The boys were getting really into this fight. Some were shouting encouragement, and others were holding back the ones going to break things up. They were all circling in for a better view. Finally Mac went down hard, and O.C. wasn't far behind, and the others pulled them apart.
"Does that look like hockey to you," her Herb asked. "Looks more like a couple of monkeys trying to hump a football to me." Bad joke. Very typical of Herb. Most of the boys weren't sure if they were supposed to fake a laugh or what. They all stayed quiet, and I was a bit relieved. "How bout you Craig?"
"Yea," Coach Patrick agreed.
"Faye?" He asked. I shrugged, a little panicked.
"I don't know," I admitted. "I've never seen a monkey trying to hump a football." The boys laughed, but Herb silenced them with a glare that would have stopped a charging rhino.
"You wanna settle old scores you're on the wrong team! We move forward starting right now! We start becoming a team right now!" Herb yelled. "Skating, passing, flow and creativity; that is what this team is all about. Not old rivalries.
"Let's start with some introductions," Herb went on, his previous tone changed completely. "Get to know each other a little bit. You know who you are, where you're from." He pointed over to Mac who was now sporting a very bloody nose.
"Rob McClanahan. Saint Paul, Minnesota," Robbie began, shrugging his shoulders.
"Who do you play for?" Uncle Herb asked.
"For you, here at the U," Mac answered strongly. I don't know why, but I don't think that was the answer Herb wanted.
"And over here?" Herbie asked Jack.
"Jack O'Callahan," he answered proudly. "Charleston, Mass. Boston University."
"And here," Coach pressed again, seeming almost urgent.
"I'm Ralph Cox," Coxie replied. "And I'm from wherever's not gonna get me hit—" The boys laughed and smiled wryly.
"Okay, everybody on the line," Coach went on with practice. After a few rounds of suicides a.k.a. "Herbies" Coach announced that the rooming list would be posted outside the lockers after practice. The guys seemed a little surprised that they were getting assigned rooms. I headed back to my small office to type the list up. I tacked it to the door of the boys' locker room before they all started to file out.
"What the heck?" I heard Mac yell. I frowned nervously and figured this would be an opportune moment to sneak away.
"Faye!" I heard someone call me. I turned to find Jimmy sprinting down the hallway; stopping when he finally reached me. "Hey, I just wanted to say I was sorry about the other night—"
"Who told you?" I cut him off, a little agitated that my little family situation was quickly becoming common knowledge.
"Told me what?" He asked, feigning a confused expression.
"You wouldn't be here apologizing to me if you didn't know about my dad," I shot back.
"Jannie told me," he answered. At least we were being honest now.
"What exactly did Jannie tell you?" I asked making a mental note to kick Jannie's ass at the first possible opportunity.
"He said you didn't have a dad," Jimmy explained. "And you don't usually trust men."
"That's bull shit," I told him.
"It is?" He asked, looking very confused.
"Of course I have a father," I said. "He just doesn't love me." And with that I headed out.