Breakaway (27 page)

“Lots of horses and cows. I’m talking hundreds.”

“Did you learn anything?”

“Loads. Amy knows
everything.
Her family does it all – cattle showing, sales, rodeo – you name it. One of her dad’s heifers got reserve champion, and after the show, some guy from Ontario wanted to buy her.”

“Well, somebody
should
buy her if she won.”

I point my spoon at her. “Actually, reserve champion means she came in second. Grand champion is first.”

“I guess you did learn something.” Mom sets her book on the coffee table, then pulls Rufus onto her chest and strokes his ears. “Would you like to explain your behaviour today?” She’s looking into Rufus’ eyes, but I know it’s me she’s talking to.

I scrape the bottom of the container for the last spoonful of yogurt. “Can I tell you some other stuff first?”

Mom stifles a yawn. “How much stuff?”

I unload. By the time I’m finished, she’s sitting straight up, wide awake.

“So what happened at the auction?” she asks.

“A rancher from Camrose bought Rusty. Good price too. But the whole thing made me feel sad, even though I know I should be happy for Liam and his family.”

“You know what I think?” Mom asks. “I think you’ve beaten yourself up long enough over Evan. And what happened with Liam isn’t your fault either. You’re a good girl, Jessie, and you have a big heart.”

“You’re my mother. You have to say that.”

She stands up and tucks Rufus under her arm. “It’s impossible to get through life without hurting people. You can try to avoid it, but it happens, in spite of your best intentions. Learn from it, and move on.”

“I’ll try.”

“Now, on another front, I didn’t tell Courtney what you did today. I don’t need her thinking she’s got a free pass for skipping school, so don’t
you
tell her either.” She moves towards the stairs then pauses. “Do you think it’s all right for her to stay at Pam’s while your dad and I are in Vegas? ”

“Of course. Pam’s a sweet kid.”

“I’m glad Courtney’s stayed friends with her,” she says. “Are you going to bed soon?”

“Pretty soon. I’m going to sit here for a while.”

She walks back to me and deposits Rufus in my lap. “Here’s company.” She bends over and kisses my forehead. “I meant what I said earlier. Let yourself off the hook.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

– Chapter Thirty-seven –

O
ur first game
of the Notre Dame Showcase won’t be a walk in the park. The Balmoral Hall Blazers from Winnipeg play in the JWHL, a league comprised of ten teams from across Canada and the United States.

“I keep telling myself the best part of this weekend is seeing Tara and Shauna again,” I say to Kathy as we step onto the ice for our warm-up. “I hope it’s not the
only
part I’ll want to remember.”

Somebody tackles me from behind and pulls my jersey over my head, rendering me blind and helpless – but not deaf. Kathy’s splitting a gut, laughing.

“Team captain, my ass!” Tara murmurs in my ear.

I’m laughing too by the time my jersey is sorted out again, and Tara is grinning at me from behind her cage. I haven’t seen her for over a year although we’ve kept in touch.

“How are things in AAA?” Tara asks.

“Definitely decent, for a first go-round,” Kathy says, “but we haven’t played Notre Dame yet.”

“Neither have we,” says Tara. “Guess that’s what the weekend’s all about, huh?” She stares pointedly at the opposite end of the arena, where university scouts are rumoured to be milling about in the lobby. “That – and them.”

“Don’t remind me,” Kathy says.

“You girls going to the Mac’s tournament?” Tara asks.

“Most of us are,” Kathy says, giving me a significant look. “Jessie here’s got another commitment.”

Tara raises a dark eyebrow.

“I’m a bridesmaid at a wedding,” I explain.

We make some small talk, catching up. Tara’s headed to Brown University in Providence next fall. I ask her about her Uncle Frank, Mark’s dad.

Her shoulders droop. “His last report wasn’t good,” she says. “There’re some spots on his lungs.”

“That’s terrible,” I say.

“Cancer’s the worst,” Kathy says.

“It’s really hard on Mark,” Tara says. “I don’t know how he does it.”

“Well, he’s got Holly to help him through it,” Kathy points out.

“Yeah, she’s awesome,” Tara says.

I notice Bud and Sue watching us from high in the stands. “We better get warmed up. Talk to you after the game?”

Tara smiles. “Maybe we can catch up when I go deep in
your
corner.”

“I’ll be ready,” I say.

Tara nods and skates back to her end.

Game on.

–

A
my’s in net for this one. Balmoral’s top two lines forecheck the hell out of us, and we spend most of the first period battling to get out of our end. Kathy takes a penalty for roughing, and early in the PK, Carla gets one for hooking. Brutal call. The Balmoral winger was clearly hanging on Carla’s stick.

Bud sends Jennifer, Whitney and me out for the five on three. We get trapped in our end with no relief for over a minute. I block one of Tara’s shots with my ankle, but there’s no
time to acknowledge the pain. Lungs burning, I finally manage
to dump the puck down the ice and limp for the bench.

Crystal’s mom is all over me, but I wave her off.

“I’m fine,” I tell her.

Dayna, Randi and one of the Rookies kill the rest of the two-man disadvantage, which gives us a big boost. Randi ices the puck just as Kathy gets out of the box, and Kathy dives in after it with two Blazer D-men on her tail. The Balmoral goalie beats Kathy to the puck but fans when she tries to clear it. Kathy poke checks and fires on the empty net.

Scores.

Balmoral retaliates with two unanswered goals, both of them Tara’s. On her second marker, Tara comes in hard at me, and I try to force her wide. She puts a move on me and gets a shot away, scoring low blocker.

“She always was a sniper,” I tell Amy, tapping her pads.

Amy clears the snow out of her crease and bangs the posts with her stick, already shutting the door on Tara’s goal.

Balmoral scores a power play goal in the second, and Whitney responds with one of her own with seconds left, making the score 3–2.

“At least the score’s close,” Dayna says while we’re making our way back to the dressing room.

“The scouts are important, not the score,” Randi says. “They’re watching what you can do with the puck – and what you do when you
don’t
have the puck.”

“Enough about the scouts,” I tell her. “Keep your head in the game.”

The Blazer coach gives his third and fourth lines more playing time in the third, allowing us to generate some offence. Randi has one more great scoring opportunity, but the Balmoral goalie deflects her slapshot. The Blazers transition quickly to offence when the rebound pops past Carla, creating a 3 on 1 with Tara head manning the puck. Jennifer positions herself to prevent a pass, so Tara takes the puck in deep and slings it to her right winger, who’s breaking for the net.

Amy reaches for the save, but there’s too much net.

We go down 4–2.

As we shake hands after the game, the Balmoral coach says to me, “Great shut down defence.”

“Thanks,” I tell him.

As I skate over to talk to Tara, I can’t wipe the grin off my face. The other girls who knew her from the Xtreme join us too. When the gate opens for the zamboni, we exchange hugs and clear the ice.

Back in the dressing room, Bud’s round belly is bursting with pride. “You girls played a solid game – in all three zones. You tied them in shots in the third, with just one breakdown. No need to hang your heads.”

“I hope we play as well against the Hounds tomorrow,” I say.

“Don’t we all,” Bud says. “Get some shut-eye, and eat smart, or that big ice at Notre Dame will
eat
you up.”

–

T
he next morning when Amy hobbles into homeroom, I know we’re in trouble.

“You pulled a groin on that last goal,” I say.

She rolls her eyes. “How’d you guess?”

“You won’t be playing tonight against the Hounds,” I say, more to myself than to her. “At least it’s not a league game.”

“Yeah, it’s only a tournament with university scouts,” Amy says dryly. “Loads of them. Didn’t you see all the binders and clipboards yesterday?”

On my way to second period, I run into Jodi in the stairwell. I see her at school nearly every day, but it’s like we’re two different people now.

“Heard you had a good game last night,” Jodi says. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” I step aside to let some students pass.

“Lots of scouts there?” she asks.

I nod.

“Don’t let it get to you,” she says. “You’re going to play
somewhere
next year.”

“What makes you so sure?” I ask.

“Because you’re better than you think you are,” she says.

Her compliment chokes me up a little. “So what about you? Do you still want to get into Education?”

She shakes her head. “I’m applying for a music program in Toronto.”

“Oh,” I reply, surprised.

While she tells me about it, I remember what her mother said to me about the nature of her brain injury. The impulsivity. The inability to concentrate.

“Sounds like an awesome opportunity,” I tell her when she’s done.

“Have you seen Evan lately?” she asks.

“No.” I lie. I can hardly tell her I hide whenever I catch a glimpse of him downtown or at the mall or in Canadian Tire.

“It took him a while to get over you,” she says. “But he seems happier now. Did you know we’re going out?”

“No, I didn’t.”

What if she changes her mind about him, just like she changed her mind about hockey and school and who knows how many other things?

I suddenly realize the stairwell and the main foyer are vacant, except for us. “We’d better get to class.”

She smiles. “God bless you, Jessie. I still pray for you.”

As I watch her descend the stairs, I say a little prayer for her too.

– Chapter Thirty-eight –

“I
hate this place,”
Randi says, as my dad pulls up in front of the Duncan MacNeill Arena in Wilcox. “You know what it makes me think of?”

“I’m afraid to ask,” Dad says, opening his door.

“Pain,” Randi says. “Lots and lots of pain.”

“Sore arms,” Kathy says.

“Sore calves,” I say.

“Do they take the Hounds in a little room before every game and show them how to slash people where it hurts most?” Randi speculates.

“It’s called the dressing room,” I say.

Dad opens the rear hatch and starts unloading our equipment. The frigid December air wafts over us.

“Well, I’m mad, and I’m not taking it any more,” Kathy says. “If I go down with a slash to the box, I’m taking somebody with me, and it’s not going to be pretty.”

Behind us, Dad clears his throat.

“Sorry, Mr. McIntyre,” Kathy says. “I was forgetting myself.”

“Just try
not
to get suspended,” I tell her. “Who’ll protect the Rooks if you’re watching from the stands?”

“Yeah,” Dayna says.

“No danger of anyone getting suspended if you all remain
inside
the vehicle,” Dad says.

“Parker, move your ass,” Randi says. “No time like the present and all that.”

“Pip. Pip,” Dayna says.

Inside the arena the first people I see are Bud and the U of S coach. They’re standing at the top of the stairs, deep in conversation.

Whoa.

“Let’s go!” Kathy smokes me with her hockey bag. “It’s cold out here!”

“Now
you’re in a hurry?” I reply.

Down in the dressing room, the tunes are on, and most of the girls are assembled. The mood is remarkably relaxed, considering we’re about to play a team on a thirty-five-game winning streak.

“Think the coaches will let us go to the pool tonight?” one of the Rookies asks. “I brought my water gun and some other stuff.”

Maybe too relaxed.

“Depends on how well we play.” I deposit my sticks by the door and squeeze into a spot between Carla and Jennifer. “Let’s focus on the game.”

“I brought mini-sticks,” another one says. “We can play in the hallway if we can’t go swimming.”

“Anybody seen Shauna?” Kathy asks.

“I talked to her for a few minutes,” Carla informs us. “Did you know she’s playing at U of M next year? She wants to get into architecture.”