Breakaway (23 page)

“What do you hope to get for her?” Kathy asks.

“What I hope for and what I’ll get are two entirely different things,” Liam says. “Horse prices have tanked lately.”

“That’s a big risk, isn’t it?” I ask.

“Anything worthwhile is risky.” Liam rubs Rusty behind the ears.

“Won’t you be sad to sell her?” Dayna asks.

“Oh yeah,” Liam says, as Rusty shoves Liam with her nose, pushing him back.

“I think she’s saying she’ll miss you too,” Amber says.

“Going to Agribition is a big deal,” Kathy observes. “People come from all over Canada and the US to compete.”

“That’s the general idea,” he says. “Hopefully there’ll be a rancher who wants a great little cow horse like Rusty.”

He takes us to the other stalls and introduces us to a three-year-old colt nicknamed Sherman and an old gelding named Buster.

Liam nods. “Buster was Dad’s horse back in the day. Dad doesn’t ride anymore because of his knees. But he was quite a cowboy when he was in his prime. He did it all – saddle bronc, bull riding, calf roping. But his best event was steer wrestling.”

“Those poor steers wouldn’t stand a chance,” Kathy says.

Liam slides the door shut behind us as we leave the barn.

“Thanks for letting us see your horses,” Amber says.

“My pleasure,” he says.

I try to plant myself in the middle of the girls on the way back to the quonset, but Liam calls out to me, “Jessie, hold on a sec.”

I can’t see the girls’ expressions as they walk past, but Kathy flicks me on my ear. “Be nice!” she hisses.

Once they’re gone, Liam asks, “So how’s it going with Whitney?”

“We don’t talk.”

“She ever fess up to starting that rumour?”

“No, and it doesn’t matter. She’s learned the value of keeping her mouth shut.” I take a few steps towards the arena entrance.

“Are you mad at me?” he asks.

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Can I go back to the party now?”

“You
are
mad at me.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re been avoiding me for weeks. Most of the time, you won’t even look at me.”

“I’m dealing with stuff.”

“We’re right back to where we were before Whitney’s party,” he says. “I thought we were making progress.”

“Progress?” I laugh. “Where are we supposed to be
going?”

“Wherever you’ll let me take you,” he says quietly.

His honesty is unnerving.

“Liam, I just got out of a relationship. I can’t do that again.”

He shifts his weight to his other foot, considering. “Just what are you saving yourself for?”

“Aren’t you being a little personal?”

“I’m not talking about sex,” Liam says. “It’s obvious you’re not
that
kind of girl. That’s probably why you started dating Billy Graham. So you wouldn’t have to worry about sex.”

I’m blushing now. “Who in the hell have you been talking to?”

“Think about it, Jessie. A long distance relationship with a guy who’s saving himself for his wedding night. What could be safer?”

“What happened with me and Evan is none of your business!”

“Can we talk about us then?”

“There is no
us.”

My eyes have adjusted to the dark, and I can see his face more clearly. He’s frozen in place, eyes intent.

“If you won’t go out with me,” he says, “don’t go out with anybody else. Okay?” He grabs my hand and squeezes it gently. His palm feels hard, like his mother’s.

“Look, it’s not you that’s the problem.” I try to take my hand back, but he locks his fingers firmly around mine. “It’s me.”

He steps closer. “How about I kiss you? That should convince me it’s not going to work.”

“You’re only interested in me because I’m
not
interested in you,” I tell him. “If you kiss me, you won’t find me nearly as fascinating.”

He brings his face close to mine. “Close enough to
yes,”
he says.

His lips are soft and gentle, but when the kiss deepens, I pull away. He leans in again, but I step back. My blood is rushing to places, and my pulse is racing.

“No more,” I whisper, freeing my hand.

He clears his throat. “So much for that theory.”

“I’m going back inside,” I squeak out. “The girls’ll be wondering where I am.”

You’re ridiculous, my little voice says.

“Please don’t go yet,” Liam says. “I want to ask you something.” It comes out in a rush. “I want you to be my escort for grad.”

Oh no.

“Liam, I can’t. The truth is...there’s this other guy, and I still like him.”

My stupid words just hang in the air between us, surprising me as much as him.

He folds his arms across his chest. “I guess that’s that.” He exhales slowly. “I won’t be bothering you anymore.”

He goes in the arena, leaving me in the dark.

– Chapter Thirty-two –

O
ne thing I will say
for alcohol. Sometimes it paves the road to reconciliation.

I’m not sure what went on at Liam’s party because I left five minutes after my conversation with him ended. But Monday morning at our usual table in the courtyard, Miranda and Amy are sitting hip to hip, talking and laughing.

“They’re BFF’s now,” Kathy informs me. “You should have seen them at the party. They talked goalie shit until one in the morning.”

“Awesome,” I tell her. “A little less drama in the dressing room wouldn’t hurt us.”

“Good thing Brett came over after he got off work,” Kathy says pointedly, “or we wouldn’t have had a ride.”

“Sorry.”

“What happened with Liam anyway?” Kathy persists. “You stayed back to talk to him after we looked at the horses.”

“Nothing,” I reply.

She raises a blonde eyebrow. “Then why’d you take off like somebody shoved a firecracker up your ass?”

“Don’t go there,” I say.

“Up your ass?” she replies. “No problem.”

“Did you know Liam named his dogs Little Ann and Old Dan, after the dogs in
Where the Red Fern Grows?”
Amber asks.

“Awww,” everyone says.

“I loved that book,” Amber says.

“Liam is so cool,” Dayna says. “He’s our best fan.”

“Yeah, he is,” Kathy says. “Isn’t that right, Jessie?”

Mercifully the buzzer sounds for first class, and I seize the excuse to get the hell out of Dodge.

Kathy’s right behind me though.

“Mac, you are gonna tell me what happened at that party if it’s the last thing you do,” she says.

I stop so suddenly she runs into me, knocking my books to the floor.

“What the hell, Parker.”

“What the hell yourself.”

As we gather up my stuff, we narrowly avoid being trampled by the other students. When the hallway’s quiet, I tell her what happened. I nearly choke on the words, but I tell her everything. For once I don’t care if I’m late for class, and neither does Kathy.

“You’re crazy, McIntyre,” Kathy says. “Deep down, you think you’re saving yourself for Mark, is that right?”

“I don’t know,” I say. “Do you think there’s a chance I’ll get to see him when we play Saskatoon? The Hitmen are playing there that weekend.”

“Who cares? The final buzzer sounded on Mark a long time ago. Meanwhile back at the ranch, Liam’s the real deal. Just ask Amy.”

“I’m an idiot.” I blink back the tears. “And I don’t know how to fix this.”

“You don’t have to fix it,” Kathy says. “Just quit screwing up.”

–

T
he
week passes quickly enough. I see Liam a few times in the hallway and the cafeteria, but now he’s avoiding
me.

Should that surprise you, my little voice asks.

If only there were a couple more hours in the day. There’s barely enough time for hockey and the gym, studying for unit exams in calculus and biology, finishing up an essay on
Hamlet,
and
helping out with Courtney’s practice on Tuesday and her game against Moose Jaw on Thursday night. Gia’s dad wants me to run the defence.

It’s kind of fun. The girls
want
to play better, and at least I don’t have to deal with Courtney. She does much better with Kathy or Gia’s dad giving her pointers on how to play left wing. One time in the Moose Jaw game, she ends up on a 2 and 0 with Gia, and it looks like she’s going to go offside.

“Oh shit,” I moan.

Just before she hits the blue line, she slows and lets Gia blow by, setting up behind her. When Gia fakes a shot and lets the puck drop back between her skates, Courtney winds up to fire on net but fans on the shot.

She bangs her stick when she comes to the bench and curses under her breath.

“Hey, Number 16,” I say, taking a chance. “That was heads-up, even if you didn’t get a shot away.”

Her head swivels in my direction, and for a second I think she’s going to swear at me too. Then she nods in acknowledgment and turns her eyes back to the ice.

“That’s my baby sister,” I tell one of the defenceman.

“So you keep telling us,” the girl replies.

–

O
n Friday after school my mom drives me to Saskatoon for our double-header with the Stars.

Miranda gets the nod for our Saturday afternoon game, and she plays decent, but we’re no match for Saskatoon’s two top lines. She gives up five goals on thirty-three shots. Whitney manages to score late in the third, so at least there’s no goose egg.

When I come out of the dressing room, Holly’s leaning on a set of crutches, talking to my mom and Kathy.

“What happened?” I ask.

“Damn ankle sprain,” Holly says. “It keeps coming back to haunt me. We’ve got a tournament out East at New Year’s, and I want to be healthy enough to go.”

“Well, it’s nice of you to come watch us,” I tell her. “You’re going to Mark’s game tonight, right?”

Tonight, on the other side of the city, the Calgary Hitmen will be playing the Blades, and I won’t be able to go.

Why
should
you, my little voice asks. It only lasted a few months, and it’s been over for two years. You don’t even know him anymore, and he doesn’t know you.

Holly nods. “Are you coming? I know there’s some news Mark would like to share with you.”

“I can’t. Bud’s arranged for us to watch the U of S women’s game tonight from a luxury box.”

Bud told us, just before our game. He was so pleased I didn’t
have the heart to tell him I’d rather be at the Blades game.

Sometimes it bites to be captain.

“How’s Mark’s dad doing?” Mom asks Holly.

She fills us in on all the details of Mr. Taylor’s treatments. Most of it’s way over my head, but I’m glad to know he’s responding well.

“That’s great,” I tell her.

“Okay, since you’re not coming tonight, I’ll share
Mark’s
news.” Holly beams. “He thinks he’s getting an invite to the World Junior camp in December.”

I’m having a tough time equating Holly with the girl who, a few months ago, wanted me to talk Mark
out
of playing Major Junior. “Does he really think he’d make the team?”

“There’s only three guys returning from last year,” Holly says.

“Wow.” I think about the ramification of this news. Mark has never been drafted, but not every player makes it to the NHL through the traditional route. The World Junior tournament has launched the careers of many unscouted athletes.

Holly looks at her phone. “I better go. I want to get in a few hours of studying before the game. What time do you play tomorrow?”

“Two.”

“I’ll try to come, but I can’t make any promises,” she says. “I have two midterms and a lab exam next week.” She gives me a quick hug, made awkward by the crutches. “See you!”

Kathy runs ahead to hold the door open for her while Mom whispers in my ear, “How are you feeling?”

“Okay.”

“You’re finally letting go of him?”

“I’m trying to.”

“Good for you,” she says. “Let’s get something to eat.”

–

P
uck drop is at seven. I spend most of the first period watching the Huskie rookies, gauging their skill level and their ice time. One rookie defenceman is on a power play unit and does some PK.

Good to know.

It’s pretty cool watching the game from a luxury box, which has the best view in the rink. No exit signs or posts to block our vision.

The Huskies are playing their archrivals, the Regina Cougars, which means the stands are nearly full. Apparently in Regina last night, the Huskies won 4–3 in a shoot out.