Disclaimer: I do not own anything.

When A Stranger Calls

The plane ride home was a long one. I dreaded the minute the plane landed. Iceland may not be known as a hockey country world wide, but believe me, we take hockey very seriously. Our loss was going to be made into a enormous deal, I just hoped that things wouldn't get too out of control.

My hope was not to be. We were immediately greeted by dozens of reporters. "How do you feel? How did you blow that game? Do you consider yourselves failures?" I wished they would all just leave me the hell alone.

School started a few days later. To make matters worse, I was just starting high school. I walked into the large building with my schedule in hand. I searched the halls until I found my locker and placed my bag inside before heading off to my homeroom. That is where the hell began.

"Well what do you know? If it isn't one of the losers?" The boy teased me.

"Yeah, it's Gunter Stahl. Are you going to play hockey for the school team?" Another boy chastised me, not even getting my name right.

"Of course he is," the first boy spoke for me. "Oh wait, I forgot. He can't even get the puck past a girl."

I stood," You had better shut the hell up. That girl could pound you." I should know.

"Oooh, we're scared." They said at once.

"Like we're really afraid of a guy who got beat up by a twelve years old girl." The second boy laughed at me.

Mercifully, the teacher finally walked in and took control of the class. Unfortunately, I had to put up with the same comments the entire day.

Things went on like that for weeks. I had joined the hockey team and was subject to much criticism and beatings. I always had a black eye. I never really understood the reasoning. It was only a game. The media had been making a big deal out of it as well. There was some sort of a story on the loss to USA every night. My first hockey game for the high school wasn't a pleasant one. News reporters were there from all over the country. When I didn't score a goal, it only led to more criticism of not only my game, but of me as a person.

I was able to deal with what people were saying about me. I figured it would all calm down with time. My mother, however, was concerned about the beatings I was receiving from the guys on the team, on a daily basis. I tried to tell her that the bruises were normal hockey injuries, but she saw right through me. I could tell that she was quickly becoming concerned, not only for my well being, but also for my life. Her worries were only reinforced when I started getting the calls.

"Hello," I would answer the phone.

"You blew the game away to those Americans, now I'm going to blow you away."

We tried getting the phone line traced, but it never turned up anything. All the numbers had been untraceable, cloned numbers. We tried changing our phone number, but that didn't work either. I tried my best to ignore the calls. It was easy at first as they only came every once in a while. As time went on, they became more frequent. By the time Christmas vacation came I was getting them every day. It wasn't until Christmas day that we had had enough.

"Hello," I answered.

"It's me again. Did you miss me?" the voice threatened.

"Leave me alone. This isn't funny anymore."

"It isn't supposed to be."

"Just quit calling me."

"I will," the voice answered back. "When I get what I want."

"What do you want?"

"You to die," the voice told me. "I lost out on my dream because of you. Now you must pay the price." Your dream? I wondered if I would ever find out what that meant. I figure that it meant one of three things. The person doing this was rather one of my team mates from the games, a political personality, or Coach Stanson himself. I figured it was probably the last, but I would probably never find out for sure.

"Get lost fucker." I screamed into the phone.

"I can see you." He told me and I froze.

"WHAT?"

"You heard me, I can see you." He was silent for just a moment. "A little advice. You had better not step outside. If you do, I'll blow your damn head off."

I hung up the phone and my mother was looking at me wide eyed. "He said……he can see me."

"I'm calling the police." My mother told me, already dialing the number.

When the police searched the house and the area around it, they didn't find anyone.

"Son these calls are getting serious. You need to take action." The officer addressed my mother and I.

"What do you have in mind?" I asked looking at him.

"I have a buddy in America. He's the Dean at a private school in Minnesota. I'm sure I can get you in on a hockey scholarship."

"Wouldn't he still be able to find me?"

"Not if you do everything that you are told. In America, you will be able to adopt an alias. Change your appearance a little and you will be all set."

"What do you mean change my appearance?" I asked concerned.

"You know, things like cutting and dying your hair." I nodded my head. I liked my hair the way it was, but if changing it would mean I could keep my head, then I was willing to do it.

"My son and I will need some time to talk this over." My mother announced.

The officer nodded. "Take the night and think it over. Let me know your decision in the morning." The officer shook my mothers hand as she got up to leave. "I'll have officers keeping watch outside your house tonight." The officer told us before walking out, leaving my mother and I to talk.

I ask that you all push the little blue button at the bottom of the screen and submit a review. Thanks in advance.