Author's Note: My sister and NaNoWriMo both motivated me to continue! Hooray! I wrote this inside of an hour and a half, which will probably explain a lot, and I'll probably hate the whole thing when I wake up in the morning and realized that yes, I actually did post this thing to the internet. May November provide me with much productivity, anyway!

Many thanks to all of you who have stuck with me while I struggle with this story =)

Number 81

Part III: Corinthians

Chapter Eight

Nikolai bit his fingernails as the silver Mazda eased up to the curb. He wasn't as nervous as Matt was for dorm move-in and what would be the start of their collegiate careers away from home... after all, he'd already been away from his first home for a little while... though he couldn't really call Stony River Township home anymore, now that he'd experienced the warm familial circle of the Lutia household. It had been six short weeks since he'd arrived in Minneapolis - though he could only remember four of them - and he was finally, truly comfortable here. He really was, and he'd told Dom so when his surrogate father had asked. Dom's eyebrows had arched up in surprise, and the coach had said that he was glad to hear it; such a small-town boy could really have been having trouble right now.

Nikolai was trying his hardest to get acclimated to his new life. The Lutias and his new teammates were making it easier on him; there was no question about that. The Gopher hopefuls had had two sets of tryouts already, a week apart, and the first cuts had been made at the end of the second day. The team, however, was finding time after the stressful practices to go out together. The first team bonding session had taken place at the Applebee's at the U, which had been slightly awkward for Nikolai, since he had been working there for a little less than a month already. His teammates had teased him a little bit, and they'd had a good time there.

After the second tryout - in which Nikolai had scored a short-handed goal in a scrimmage and Matt had done so well defensively that he'd come home with four bruises on his body from blocking shots - the upperclassmen had shown the freshmen around Minneapolis for a while, caravanning in a set of six cars. They'd spent time wandering the downtown area; explaining the Midway; showing the freshmen the Quarry area in St. Louis Park, where the nearest Target was. They explained the bus system and then had walked around the University and Dinkytown, which was the bar, residential, and shop area that bordered the University's east bank.

Now, Matt and Nikolai felt much more comfortable with the University than the rest of their freshman peers, and they were grateful for it when they saw the confused hubbub that was dorm move-in day. They'd spent an hour in traffic just inside the University's borders, especially on Washington Avenue, which was one of the two main streets that accommodated University transit. Neon-clad policemen were directing traffic below traffic lights that were largely being ignored as they flashed their red, yellow, and green in vain over the gridlock. Matt had tapped his feet impatiently until his mother had snapped at him to stop; Nikolai and Dom had simply looked out their respective windows and waited.

After an eternity of traffic and turn signals, they had arrived at Frontier Hall, one of the four buildings that made up the "Superblock" - a group of dorms that housed most of the freshmen that came to the University every year. The hockey freshmen had a small hallway to themselves; nearly all of them in double rooms, Matt and Nikolai with single rooms. Matt's roommate hadn't survived the first round of cuts; Nikolai had registered too late to get a hockey roommate. That was fine with him, he thought, privately: He wasn't sure he was ready to have someone that close to him all the time. There were too many things wrong with him that would complicate a roommate relationship... there would be too many questions, and how would a roommate find the nightmares he had, on top of everything else? No, it was better that he was in a single room. It wasn't as if he'd be lonely in a hall full of his teammates.

They piled out of the car, and a move-in ambassador walked up to them cheerfully. "Hi, guys! Frontier Hall? Great! Here's your parking voucher -" Dom took it and put it in the window of the Mazda "- and you boys can get your keys and your housing forms at the front desk before moving your stuff in. That'll be easiest. Any questions?"

They all shook their heads no, and she waved them off.

Frontier Hall's lobby was packed. A makeshift information desk had been inserted right next to the front entrance, and the front desk itself had a small crowd in front of it. Four harried but smiling community advisors were passing out keys and housing agreement forms, showing new residents which hallways led to their new rooms, making sure that key cards worked. Nikolai and Matt stepped up to the desk; Dom and Katy walked back to the car with a wheeled cart to start unpacking.

"Nikolai Graham... Matt Lutia... here you guys go," said the C.A. who was passing out keys, and the girl to his right passed them two forms with carbon copies behind them. "Use your U Card to get into the hallway to your right; your room key will obviously get you into your room. Be careful - the doors lock automatically behind you, so make sure that you take your key with you even when you go to the bathroom. Before you put everything in your room, take a look around quick to see if anything's broken. If anything is broken or scuffed, make sure you write it down on this sheet and sign it. That way we'll get it fixed for you, and you won't get charged for damages you didn't do to the room when you move out at the end of the year. Your C.A. will be around to say hello and collect the sheets."

They took the keys and the forms, and Matt fumbled his U Card out of his pocket as they approached the hallway on their right. The hall beyond was packed; Nik had to duck quickly as a family hoisting a futon suddenly appeared and lifted it above his head. He maneuvered slowly around the crowd, flinching slightly as boxes poked him and people made sudden movements. Matt caught this flinching out the corner of his eye and moved up, pushing his shoulder into Nik's reassuringly. They found the elevator, saw the line for the elevator, and opted for the stairwell instead. The fourth floor held their group of rooms, and they followed a group of people down a long hallway before turning down a smaller one; much less populated, slightly cool. Their teammates weren't there yet; those that remained, and Nikolai briefly wondered if any of the group, including himself, would be cut from the team. The final cuts were looming, only a few days away, and anyone who didn't make the team had the option to switch out of the hockey hallway. Unfortunately, if they did so, they'd have to go wherever the U could stick them. Cut players could also elect to stay in the hockey hallway, awkward as it would be to do so.

Nikolai felt a shudder of nerves, and hoped fervently that his best efforts would be enough to make the team. If the reassurances he'd had from the older teammates that had been watching him were to be believed, he was doing very well and was hardly in serious danger of not making the team, but he felt that he had to give more, much more, to live up to the logo that would hopefully be on his chest soon. He would not fail to make Dom Lutia and his teammates proud. He would not let them down - not after they had already given him so much. He could be better, and he would be better. He would never stop battling to be a better hockey player.

"Nik? Nik!"

Nik startled out of his thoughts, realizing that Matt had stopped in front of a door. "Isn't this you?"

He pulled out his room key, which he'd unconsciously stuffed in his back pocket, and looked at the small paper tag attached to it before nodding.

"Sweet!" Matt said, "Open 'er up!"

"That's what she said!" someone yelled down the hallway. Matt laughed, Nikolai grinned and shook his head, shoving the key in the lock and pushing the door open. Matt peered over his shoulder as Nikolai took a step into the room.

"Nice!" Matt approved. "I'll be right back; my room is two doors down on the same side."

Nik nodded, and Matt disappeared back out the door, leaving him to study his new room. He took a loop around it and felt approval. There was a twin-sized bed and a short, stocky desk, and a dresser built into the wall with a mirror above it. It was small and slightly cool, but Nikolai minded neither one. It was a good setup - the bed could stay in that corner and un-lofted... in fact, everything could stay where it was. It wasn't like he needed to make more room for his things. He had a duffle bag with his belongings in it - the clothes that he'd bought, and a few books he'd gotten a hold of. The quilt and pillows from the room at the Lutia household was coming with him, at the insistence of Dom and Katy. Other than that, he had nothing to set up.

He'd probably have to spend his next paycheck on things to put in the room, he decided, looking at the white walls and empty floor space. Maybe he'd get some posters at the poster sale that was being advertised at the Coffman student union. Matt had said they could make a bus trip to the Target in St. Louis Park, a suburb that bordered the Como district of the University - a short, ten-minute bus ride. Anything they'd forgotten, they could replace there.

"Matt? Nikolai?"

"We're here!" Nikolai heard Matt call down the hallway, his voice faintly muffled by the angles of the rooms. Dom and Katy trooped past Nikolai's room before spotting him and doubling back. Dom nodded approval before moving on to Matt's room; Katy stepped into Nikolai's, tugging the wheeled cart halfway through the door.

"All right, sweetie," she said, "Which of this is yours?"

"Um," Nikolai said, clearing his throat and peering into the cart. "That bag... the quilt... and those pillows."

"That's it? Honey, we have to get you a chair or something."

Nik smiled at her and shook his head. "Have everything I need," he said quietly.

She made a small hrmph in her throat and pulled the quilt and sheets out from under some of Matt's boxes, bustling into the room and putting them on the bed. Nikolai pried his small duffel bag out of the spaces in the cart and started hanging his clothes up. Three pairs of jeans came out of the duffel bag, along with seven or eight long-sleeved shirts, a couple of sweatshirts, three long-sleeved dress shirts, a carefully tailored black suit, and four ties. Two pairs of sneakers, dress shoes, and everything else quickly filled up the bottom of the closet and the bottom drawer of the dresser. The whole closet's worth of clothes had cost him a week of his paycheck, but Nikolai felt that it was worth it. He'd given the clothes he'd borrowed from Matt back, and grateful as he had been to the other boy, it had given him a feeling of accomplishment and self-reliance, as if he was starting to stand on his feet in this new place.

Nikolai was finished putting his clothes and the two books he'd bought away just as Dom and Matt appeared, looking for the cart and Matt's belongings. Katy smoothed the quilt one more time, gave Nikolai's closet a once-over, and followed the brunette and the other two men out of the room.

Matt's room things were the complete opposite of Nikolai's... he had a lot of stuff, and it was everywhere. All four of them bent to the effort of getting it all in Matt's new dorm room; moving boxes and appliances out of the cart, unloading containers, putting the sheets and quilt on the bed, finding places for Matt's mementos, posters, sports gear, and everything else that was along for the ride. Nikolai grinned and shook his head as he opened a box and found a group of the most random hockey-related knick-knacks possible. Matt caught sight of his amusement and snorted.

"Shut up," he told his friend, who bit his lip.

The room was as crammed full of stuff as Matt's room back home when they were finished, which Nikolai found hard to believe, considering they'd only brought half of Matt's possessions along.

"Well," Dom said as they stood by the car, students and parents brushing past with carts and armloads, "You boys are set."

"Aww," Katy said, reaching up and brushing a hair out of Matt's eyes. "They're all grown up."

"Mom..!" Matt complained.

"You be good," she admonished him. "And you," she turned to Nikolai, "You call if you need anything."

He nodded, smiled; and she hugged him, then her son.

"I'll see you boys in two days," Dom said.

"You'll be fine," Katy said, catching their looks.

Then the silver Mazda was gone, and the hockey players were left to make their rooms their own.

A long day-and-a-half later, and they were lacing up at Mariucci Arena for the final day of Gopher Hockey tryouts. Five people had been cut, including the unfortunate Cody Matthews and the impatient Tim Stull. Two upperclassmen had also been cut, along with another freshman Nikolai hadn't met had also had the ax fall on their careers. They'd been invited to try out again next year, and that was it - they were done. The remaining freshmen and upperclassmen were feeling the heat; and the tension was higher in the locker room pre-tryouts than it had been on previous days.

The final cut started with groups of four alternating through strength drills and the individual improvement measurements, while individual interviews were conducted in a side conference room. Nikolai was placed in the first group to attempt the strength drill.

Ty, the conditioning trainer, stood at the free weights and the bench press with a clipboard and a pen, recording the weight they put up and the correctness of their motion. Nikolai was glad that he was starting here; it was a good, simple drill - something to focus him without causing him too much stress right away.

"Nikolai!" Ty called. "You're up!"

Nik stepped up to the bench press, Neal Matson giving him a friendly poke as he got off of the bench himself and left the room. Ty nodded at Nikolai, making sure he wasn't threatening the hockey player with his body language on accident. He was remembering the Treadmill, and Nik curling up against the side of it.

Nikolai, however, walked up to him with a focus in his eye that made Ty take a step back in surprise. Nik nodded back at him, sat down on the bench press, and positioned himself.

"All right," Ty said, re-setting himself and his pen. "We'll start off with one-hundred-forty. One-forty." The metal disks were already positioned for the starting weight, and Nikolai breathed in and out twice in quick succession; he braced his arms, relaxed his lower back, and pushed. The bar gave way under his strength easily. He lifted it three times with little effort, repositioned it on the rack.

"Good," from the strength trainer. He set the clipboard aside, loaded two more disks onto each side of the bar. "One-eighty. One-eighty."

Nikolai breathed, braced, lifted. Less ease, but little problem.

"One-ninety. One-ninety."

Breath. Brace. Lift. Slight resistance in his muscles, but the bar stayed straight and remained steady through the three pushes.

"Two hundred. Two hundred. All right? Okay. When you're ready."

Breath. Breath. Pause. Brace. LIFT -

The two hundred pounds were his limit. The bar shook on the third repetition, and Nikolai notched the weight back into the holder with relief.

Ty grinned down at him. "Two hundred it is. Good work. Lace up, and you'll be due at your individual improvement drill in about fifteen minutes."

Nikolai nodded, blew a sharp breath out his nose, and grabbed a towel to rub his hands with as he left. The locker room was empty; the rotation schedule made it so that only one player was in the locker room at once. Nik's hands shook as he laced up his skates, not from exertion; and he stopped momentarily, surprised at himself.

He'd been playing hockey for years. Ever since he could remember, he'd been skating for crowds, putting the game on his shoulders, lacing up for tryouts. His hands had never shaken before. He bowed his head. This tryout meant something to him like no tryout ever had before. His deepest desire, a feeling he'd never had with such depth, was to wear the 'Block M' on his chest and give everything he had for this team that had already given him so much.

He straightened; his resolve grew and hardened into an iron bar in his spine. The practice pads rattled as he stomped out to the ice, blades cutting into the tough carpet that led out to the rink. Johnny Trotter passed him, heading back to the locker room, face tinged red, blowing like a bull. Nik gave him a friendly bump as he passed, feeling the nerves in his stomach play off of the stiff resolve in his spine. He stepped up to the lip of the ice, found the sheet clear, and glided onto it. Assistant coach Mark Hillen was at center ice, dressed in black warm-ups and wearing hockey skates. Nikolai knew what was coming - they'd been working on his acceleration and cornering speed on every tryout day, and it was the same drill every time - Hillen would set up a series of cones and yell for him to accelerate and corner faster and faster. Nik would push himself as hard as he could until he either lost his balance and fell, or topped out at a constant speed for longer than five seconds. He'd made improvements - now he had to prove that all of the hard work had paid off, and that he was quick enough to be a Division I teammate.

"All right, Nikolai. You're a good hockey player," Hillen said, "You're strong, you've got good senses, you've got a shot. You need to have developed some speed in order to make the team. Let's see if you've done it."

Nikolai lined up at the starting cone. The whistle blew. He put his head down and pushed. The ice flew underneath him, the corners rushing at him. He leaned, scrambling, skates crossing in a blur, metal screaming against the ice, fragments of white flying up in a whirlwind behind him. His chest burned; he felt a roar in his head, blood rushing, vision reddening - not with pain, but with resolve. He pushed himself, calf muscles straining, hip flexors tightening like stone -

The whistle blew and the redness faded from his vision. His rib cage stitched with pain, but he straightened and refused to let it show. He glided up to Hillen, noticing the thin, deep troughs marring the outer edge of the ring. They hadn't been there when he'd stepped onto the sheet. Had he made those in his minute of furious speed?

"Nikolai..." Hillen said, frowning and looking down at his clipboard. Nikolai's heart sank.

"...That was all right," the assistant coach finished, the frown fading into the barest hint of a smile. "You worked hard. You have Division I speed now. Make no mistake - you're still slow by everyone's standards. You will be the most complete hockey player you can be if and only if you can take what you've done here and step it up. Your top speed has improved, and your acceleration has as well, to a point. You can improve it with agility drills; you know, foot placement. The Treadmill will help you with that. Work with the Treadmill - just strap yourself in and make your feet move."

Nikolai nodded, understanding, eyes fixed on the assistant coach. Hillen showed another small smile. "That was all right," he repeated. "You did what I asked you to. Keep it up."

Back in the locker room, he stripped his pads and blades and put his head back against the metal of a locker, closing his eyes and lacing his hands over them for a moment. Wow. He'd done it. He'd done it. He'd made the appropriate strides - no pun intended - and Hillen had noticed.

A dull clumping intruded on his thoughts, and Nikolai uncovered his eyes and straightened on the bench. Matt trooped into the room, caught sight of him, and gave him a hundred-watt grin, though it showed a little tired now.

"Hey, buddy!" he greeted Nikolai. "How's it goin'? What've you done so far?"

"Okay. Weights... and individuals," Nik said softly. "You?"

"Same, reverse order," Matt grinned. "Man, I'm tired and we haven't even had the scrimmage yet."

"Or the interview," Nikolai reminded him as his friend plopped down on the bench beside him.

"Or the interview," Matt agreed. "But that'll be all right. 'Why do you want to be a Gopher', 'What does the "M" mean to you', 'What can you bring to the team'... Simple."

"Yeah."

They sat for a moment in companionable silence.

Then, Nikolai: "What'd you put up?"

"Two-ten."

"Ahhh, man."

"You get one-ninety?"

"Two hundred."

"Weakling," Matt grinned at Nik and poked him in the side with his elbow. Nikolai snorted, then checked Matt's watch.

"Gotta go," he said, the 'o' still elongated, the accent marring all of his words; and Matt suddenly remembered how far he'd come with understanding Nikolai, not just with his speech, but with his character. He gave Nik a gentle shove as they stood. Nikolai disappeared down the hall toward the video room, which was an impromptu interview room today, and Matt went to grab a powerbar.

Nikolai hadn't had much contact with the other assistant coach of the men's hockey program, Craig Crowell. Crowell was soft-spoken, a play-builder who was more of an administrator than an ice-side director. He was seated at one of the conference-room tables; a long, medium-toned piece of furniture that had been stained by an endless parade of coffee mugs. He looked up from some handwritten notes as Nikolai entered the room, and smiled.

"Nikolai, come on in," he invited the hockey player to a leather swivel-chair across the table from him. He jumbled the notes as Nikolai sat, and came up with a fresh piece of paper, which he loaded onto a clipboard and steadied on his knee, out of Nikolai's sight. He waited for Nikolai to get comfortable, and Nikolai simply looked at him.

"Nikolai," Crowell said, "Tell me what you want to bring to the Minnesota team if you're selected to join us."Nikolai took an even breath and concentrated on making his vowels as mainstream as possible. It made him speak more slowly, but that in turn made him sound less nervous, so it wasn't such a bad thing.

"I want to be a role-player."

"A role-player?"

Nikolai nodded, and forced himself to expand. He was going to have to be verbose with this man, he realized, to keep from sounding standoffish. He made the words come. "I consider a good game for myself to be a game where I give everything for all sixty minutes and fill a role on the team. I expect out of myself that I'll be the guy that everyone can point to and say, he works hard, and he's a team player. I won't feel good about my game unless people look at my tape and say that I'm working hard, that I'm doing my job, that I'm not showboating or grandstanding, but just getting the job done. At the end of my career here, I want people to say that I worked hard, never gave up, and that I displayed good character... good leadership."

His vowels were starting to slip, but it turned out that it didn't matter. At the end of the interview, Nikolai could tell that Crowell had liked what he had heard. He breathed a sigh of relief as he closed the door to the conference room behind him. The best part was, he'd said everything that was on his mind, even voicing some of his fears - which were that he somehow wouldn't fill his role and let the coaches and his teammates down - and all of it had rung true. Better yet, it seemed to have resonated with the coach.

The scrimmage was the only thing left; fifty minutes were between Nikolai and the last piece of the day. He made a trip down fifth street to the McDonald's at the corner of Dinkytown nearest the University, walking back slowly with a hamburger in his hand. The final interviews were being conducted... and then the final part of the tryout would begin.

The scrimmage was much the same as the last two, but Nikolai's role was different in this game. Sometimes it worked that way - lots of times he had the magic scoring touch, but his shots didn't find the twine this night. AFter the first few moments, not feeling the goal scoring, he did everything else he could think of to set his scrimmage team up for success. He remembered Hillen's advice and spent the rest of the twenty minutes moving his feet, making plays. He positioned himself perfectly, making cross-ice passes and goalmouth feeds with confidence and fundamental correctness. He clogged shooting lanes and blocked shots, feeling bruises bloom all over his body as he did so. He intercepted passes, forced mistakes on the other side, drew penalties, and, in the end, ended up credited with two assists.

Matt went out in the next scrimmage and scored a goal, played well defensively; and Nikolai breathed out a sigh of relief that he hadn't even heaved for himself. Matt was going to be all right. Nikolai was sure that his friend was going to make the team, and he was sure that Matt deserved it.

Many nervous minutes followed the final scrimmage. The players sat around the locker room, some talking, trying to relieve tension with jokes; most silent, locked within their own thoughts. Matt and Nikolai sat close together in their street clothes, keeping each other calm with their presence, shoulders pushing together for support. The outer door of the locker room creaked open, and all eyes went up.

Coach Lutia entered the room, Hillen and Crowell behind him. Lutia's calm grey eyes swept the room.

"Listen up," he said, but there was no need: The room was completely silent. Nikolai thought he might not even be breathing.

"We, the staff, would like to thank each and every one of you for coming out and giving us everything you had for the past month. You are all great hockey players, and you all deserve to wear the 'M' on your chests. Unfortunately, we only have twenty-one spots on our roster... and there are thirty of you left. We encourage those of you who do not make the roster to work hard and join us to try out again next summer."

There was a moment of silence. Nikolai felt his heart bursting with trepidation, his organs squeezing into themselves painfully. Matt pressed harder into Nikolai's shoulder, unconsciously, and Nik let him do it. Dom Lutia looked around at them all one more time, then brought his clipboard up.

"If I call your name: Congratulations. You have made the team."

Names floated through the compact, tense air.

Nikolai Graham.

Nikolai slumped, brain melting, spine collapsing with the relief of it. He'd made it. He'd made the team.

Now, if just one more name would be called...

Neal Matson. Andrew Laurent. Matt Lutia.

Nikolai sat up abruptly and threw his shoulder into Matt's silently, exultantly, and Matt had his arm in a silent death-grip as the last names were read off, all dignity forgotten.

Author's Note: Hooray! They made the team!! I mean, uh, I knew that... whatever! Thanks to my sister for helping me get motivated to get this out, and thanks to NaNoWriMo for helping me get past the fact that it sucked a little at first... ha ha! Please leave me a review! It helps me motivate for the next chapter!