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Gia turns in my arms and places her cheek on my chest.
“No, that could be it. I don’t think she’s too young, but this is the third time this month that I am aware of. The school called me last week. I didn’t want to worry you. I’m scared, Damien. Call it mother’s intuition, but something feels off about this.”
∞∞∞
ASTRIA
I skate toward the net with the speed I’m known for. Let these boys eat my dust. I set up the shot, and my calves seize. It feels like a cramp, but worse. I hesitate as the pain temporarily paralyzes me.
“Yeet it into the net, Ria. What are you waiting for?” Camden shouts at me from behind.
“I am!” I scream back at him.
My head is pounding. My muscles burn. Finally, my brain and muscles decide they’ll work together, and my stick connects with the puck. I send it flying straight into the net. Score.
I breathe a sigh of relief.
“Whoop! That’s how it’s done, boys!” I feel someone throw a heavy arm over my shoulder and the muscle twitches. I noticed it when Dad did that earlier, too. That’s a new one to add to the growing list of aches and pains I’ve been dealing with lately. “Yes! You did it, Ria! Give a guy a heart attack, will ya?”
I shrug Camden off of me. “I was setting up the shot. Perfection takes time.”
Camden and I have been friends since diapers. Mrs. Tolar calls him my boyfriend, which literally makes me cringe and want to upchuck my lunch.
Prime example? He smells like rotting fish right now. Does she even come close to her son while he’s sweating? Gross.
Anyway, my dad says I’m not allowed to have a boyfriend until I’m thirty. I don’t disagree with him. It seems like a giant waste of energy. I have more important things to focus on. Things that don’t make my head hurt.
“Yeah, time that we don’t have when the clock’s ticking. If that was a real game, you’d have been checked before you ever connected with the puck.”
He’s right. I need to be faster. I’m already faster than most of the boys. Well, all of them, except Camden. But, to my credit, he’s got six months on me and a full foot of height. That’s saying a lot, I’m the tallest girl in our class.
“I know.” I skate to the bench, ready to take my skates and pads off, and get into an ice bath. Maybe that’ll help.
“I know you know, so what’s up? Why the delay?” Camden sits down beside me and starts unlacing his skates. He just won’t give it up.
“Can I ask you something?” I turn and look at him, the hair that’s come loose from my braids flies into my face and annoys the heck out of me.
“Always, you’re my bro.” He smiles, tapping his sweaty, sock-covered foot into mine.
“You do realize I’m a girl, Camden? Right?” I look at him, slightly irritated, but what’s new? I may play with the boys, but I’m not one. It annoys me that they want to categorize me as a boy because by doing so they don’t have to admit they’re getting their butt whooped by a girl. It’s a cop-out.
“Nah, no way. You’re a dude, Ria. Girls don’t handle a stick like that. Even my dad says you’re good, and he doesn’t say that about just anybody.”
I roll my eyes so hard they nearly fall out of my head.
“Yeah, sure, anybody but you. My dad’s a professional athlete, just like your dad. I think we were skating before we could walk. Doesn’t make me a dude. The answer is plain and simple. Just means girl’s rule.” I smirk. “You can’t label me one of the guys just because you don’t want to be beaten by a female.”
“Whoa, whoa. Nobody said anything about you beating me. We both know who the real MVP is here, and it’s me.” He beats his chest like a gorilla. Sheesh, boys.
He’s delusional. My dad’s so right, boys this age are idiots.
“You dance to the chicken nugget song, and you cried at the end of the Mighty Ducks.” I raise my eyebrows, and he straightens on the bench beside me.
He clears his throat and his voice cracks awkwardly. “You had a question?” He ignores my accusations completely because he knows I have all the evidence I need on my cell phone. Always come prepared with blackmail. Work smarter, not harder. That’s what my dad always says. He probably didn’t mean blackmail, but meh – semantics.
I stretch my neck back and forth before confiding in my friend, “Do your muscles hurt?”
“Like, after practice? Sure, I guess. It’s normal to be sore after a workout.” He stands up and strips his pads off right in the middle of the practice arena.
