Disclaimer: I do not own anything.

First Day of School

I woke up early the next morning to the sound of the alarm clock blaring in my ear. I got up and quickly got dressed. Riley showed me where the Dean's office was and stayed with me while I picked up my schedule. He showed me to my homeroom, which happened to be his homeroom as well. He led me over to some seats and we sat down next to a strong looking guy.

"This is Biff Cole. He is the enforcer on our hockey team. He once sent three people to the hospital on just one hit." Riley explained to me. "We all just call him Cole.

I was impressed by the skills of the enforcer. "Hi," I said meekly.

"Biff, this is Scooter, the new goalie." There is that damned nickname again. I guess I had better get used to it.

"You's any good?" Cole asked me, raising his eyebrow.

You's? Is this guy kidding? "Um, sure." I lied. "But I can't play until next year. I have to recover from my leg injury and go through all that rehab stuff."

"Right." he told me. "Where's ya from?"

Where's? I guess this kid isn't the genius of the team. "I'm originally from California." I lied. "But my family moved to Iceland a couple of years ago."

"How you end up here?" Cole asked.

"My dad sought this place out and they offered me a scholarship." I lied once more. I never thought that keeping my true identity would be so hard.

He seamed to buy it as the teacher came in. "I would like to introduce a new student to you all. Scott Vanderbilt. Scott please stand up."

I could feel the blush setting in as I slowly rose from my chair. "Scooter." I conceded. "Please call me Scooter."

"Well, Scooter, why don't you tell us about yourself."

"I had rather not." I answered.

"Just a few words." The teacher pushed.

"Fine," I gave in for the second time that day. I rose to my feet before beginning my small speech. "My name is Scooter. I most recently lived in Iceland and once my leg gets better, I'm going to be a goalie for the hockey team." I said quickly before sitting back down.

The rest of the day was basically the same. All of my teachers forced me into giving speeches about myself. Talk about total embarrassment. In Iceland I would have never had to do such a thing.

By the end of the day, I was almost missing the teasing I was receiving back home.

After school came hockey practice and I was to finally meet the hockey coach. I walked out onto the ice and couldn't help but stare up to the rafters. How many championships have they won?

"We've won eight straight state titles." I looked over to see a silver haired man with glasses standing next to me. "You must be Scott. I'm your new coach."

I smiled. "They," I pointed to where Riley and Cole were warming up. "They are calling me Scooter, so I guess that's my nickname."

"Yes, according to Riley everyone needs a nickname. Usually it's just the players last name, but I see he has gone out of his way on this one." He smiled at me.

I nodded. "I guess so." I answered. "So you are Coach Wilson?"

"I am." he told me. "I've heard a lot about you son."

"You have?" I asked.

"I have. I know who you are." He told me.

My eyes widened. "You do?"

"Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me."

"But how did you find out?"

"From the Dean." He told me. "The officer old us what was going on. That's why we were able to accept you this semester." I nodded once again. "You put up one hell of a performance in the goodwill games."

"Thanks." I answered.

"But I understand that you can't play that position anymore." He continued.

"No sir," I confirmed. "The doctor says I won't have the speed to do so anymore."

"Schumacher, our starting goalie, along with our backup goalie, Levin are both graduating this year. We are going to need a goalie to replace them." He told me.

"Do you think you can turn me into a goalie?" I asked.

"A goalie, yes." he started. "But not a great goalie. I know who can though."

"Who?" I asked.

"Riley's uncle." He answered. "He coaches a pee wee team around here, the Hawks. He was a great goalie in his youth. He can transform you from a scorer to a stopper."

"When will my training start?"

"How long before you can start skating?"

"About four months." I answered.

"Then your training will start in about four months. Jack's season will be over and he will have revenge on those damn ducks by that time."

"Ducks." I repeated. "Yeah, I believe you know some of them."

"They live here?" I asked, my mind going back to the pretty girl who stopped my shot. "The ducks from the goodwill games."

"Yes. Most of them live here?"

"What about the girl goalie. What's her name….uh… Gaffney?"

"No." he answered and I tried to not look so disappointed. "Don't worry, she's not here to block your shot." He told me as he started to skate off.

"What am I supposed to do in the meantime? I yelled after him.

"For one thing you can check out a book on goal tending and secondly, you can be our equipment manager. I expect you at every practice and every game. I also expect you to be paying close attention o Schumacher and Levin. You can learn a lot from them." With those words he turned and walked off.

I decided to take Wilson's advice and check some goaltending books out of the library. Before heading back to my dorm I decided to check my new e-mail. I was surprised to see that the school had taken the pleasure in giving every student and student e-mail address in order to announce important events. I took out the paper I had been given in the dean's office that morning, telling me how to access my email. I noted that I had one e-mail. I didn't recognize the address, but I opened it anyway. After all, I was new here and every address would be foreign to me. My eyes widened as I read the message.

Remember me Gunnar, oh wait, it's Scooter now right? I know where you are. You can't hide from me. I'll let you be for now, but don't worry, I'll come for you when you least expect it. I will make sure that you meet an early grave. By the way, I know about your new look.

I took a deep breath as I stared at the computer screen. "How the hell did he find me?" I asked myself. "Wait a minute." I reread the message. "How the hell does he know my new name is Scooter?"

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