Disclaimer: I do not own any of the ducks, not even Adam Banks and his thoughts.
A/N: Thanks for the reviews, I liked them a lot. So here's a chapter update of the comical, sarcastic, and super shy Adam Banks. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and I will try to update more this week because I'm not sure if I'll get to update as much next week. Finals and winter break sure does make life busier. Reviews please and tell me what you're thinking about the story.
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Poor Mr. Tibbles. Coach wanted to strangle him with the confiscated whistle, and we all thought he was a little crazy. The headline would be, "Death on The Ice by Junior Goodwill Games Coach." We won't tell the press that it was by a whistle, because that would be awfully embarrassing for Mr. Tibbles.
"All right Ducks, show em' what you got." Coach blew the whistle, "Let's scrimmage."
Jesse skated to take the face off, I looked behind Portman, who growled at me, and I stared at Julie. There she was, in goalie position, waiting to catch our pucks. Oh. She looked at me. She's still looking at me. Why is she looking at me? Oh my god, Banks look down. She thinks you're so weird now.
"Come on Banks!" Charlie said as I skated past him, in control of the puck. You're going straight for her, well not you, the puck is. Should I let her save it or really fire it in there? Then, Portman came out of nowhere, bending over to flip me head over heels. Well, now I won't even have to take the shot.
"Let's go Banks!" Connie cheered for me as I skated, puck in control again. Preppy, come on, show her you aren't some freak who stares, and just gets flipped without a retaliation. I shot it in, and the ducks cheered. Good job Adam, maybe she dislikes you for scoring against her. Maybe, that's what the ducks should have really been saying.
"Look out, it's Fulton!" We went shrapnel, skating to clear the middle. Fulton took his shot; Portman ran away and the puck decided to bounce which had us all fearing for our lives. If that puck ricocheted off that goal post, and wood, then it must hurt when it hit an actual person. Everyone grimaced when Tibbles went down, with a blonde woman there to aid him. Poor Mr. Tibbles.
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"Oh Mr. Tibbles, are you all right?" The blonde woman asked as Mr. Tibbles answered a bizarre answer, just confirming within us that we thought he was a little loopy. I didn't really pay attention to the blonde lady until she announced her point in being there. It wasn't that she was expecting to see Tibbles get knocked out by a hockey puck, which what was the idea I had in my mind. She was there to be our tutor, to be there twenty-four seven if we ever wanted to do some learning.
"Who said we need a tutor?" I asked, and the ducks murmured similar reactions.
"I don't need no school," Hell yes Portman. I totally agreed with him. Maybe Portman was a cool guy, and we just couldn't see past his tattoo, or the fact that he pushed all of us, except the girls around.
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What is that smell? Everyone around me scrunched their noses as well, so I knew it wasn't just me that smelled that disgusting odor. "Goldberg!" We all yelled, as Goldie denied, and Portman, who stood right in front of me by the way, raised his arms in triumph declaring it was him who did it. Yes, Portman truly was a great guy.
Sincerely, he was, and so were the other players that we welcomed to our team that day. I talked to every single one of them, except Julie of course. We were close in proximity sometimes, and we laughed at each others jokes, but not once did I really talk to her. I was probably the only duck that didn't. Adam Banks: phobia of talking to females that he finds attractive. It took me two months to really start a conversation with Connie. It would suck if my boss was a woman; I would nod my head instead of saying yes, and shake my head instead of saying no. She would fire me because she thought I was mute, and could never conduct a business meeting. This is a serious problem, and it must be fixed immediately. Well not immediately, maybe in a few years or so.