Author: luv.ya.xox PM
Chelsea Moore is stuck. She has no father and a drug addict of a mother. What is a girl to do? But when her grandfather invites Chelsea to his school, there is a twist that would change Chelsea's schooling forever.Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance/Friendship - Chapters: 6 - Words: 12,995 - Reviews: 15 - Favs: 6 - Follows: 12 - Updated: 12-26-09 - Published: 07-23-09 - id: 2700097
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Ugh. I am soo late. I am so sorry guys. This can be my present to you for whatever holiday you celebrate.
Chelsea and Dustin turned their heads to see a middle-aged, balding man standing in a suit with his arms covered across his chest. Probably to hide the sweat stains covering his armpits. Ew.
"Who is that?" Chelsea whispered, actually feeling a little weak in the knees even though she had her skates on.
Chelsea looked up at Dustin. His bottom lip was trembling. His hair was wet with sweat even though they haven't even started yet. "The coach."
Chelsea's knees gave out and she fell on her knees. She swore colorfully when her knees hit the solid ice.
The coach slid onto the ice in a pair of loafers that were too big. His feet were slipping out of them. Chelsea giggled.
"Are you okay?" the coach asked Chelsea, helping her up. When he looked at Chelsea he realized that she was a girl. A girl? At Seymour? It couldn't be.
"Dustin," he began, "why do you have a girl on campus? You know that having female on campus unless having permission is strictly prohibited."
"I know," Dustin said. "He is the dean's granddaughter."
"Oh," the coach said. "I see."
Dustin and Chelsea nodded awkwardly.
"Well, I can tell you are interested in hockey."
Chelsea nodded again.
"Well, c'mon then. I will be a goalie. I was the best goalie in Pennsylvania in my golden years. But I am still pretty good. I am Coach Merther"
Chelsea said nothing. She focused on the puck and nothing else. She just grinned and skated backwards and went in a circle like she did everytime before she went for a shot. She then gained speed as she skated forward towards the puck, adrenaline running through her veins. As she reached the puck she moved her stick from side-to-side to keep the puck from straying away from her. As she reached the goal, she viewed Coach Merther's body positions. He was wearing a mask and he threw some goalie pads on quickly. She saw where his body was placed and how she could hoodwink his reflexes into going the wrong way. As she struck the puck, it was like a curveball in baseball. It went to the left, causing Coach's body to move left and then the puck curved to the right causing it to swish into the goal. Chelsea did her habit of skating around the goal after shooting whether she missed or scored—the last one was more frequent.
The coach looked shocked. Had a girl really just beaten the previous best goalie in the state? Well, he was old…sort of. Is 42 considered old?
"It's too early in the morning," Coach Merther said to Chelsea. Chelsea grinned to herself. The coach slid the puck to the left even though Chelsea was going to the right. She turned skillfully on her blades to the left and stopped the puck with her stick before the puck slid into the wall.
Chelsea brought the puck to the line and circled the puck while Coach Merther adjusted his goalie pads. When he nodded at Chelsea to begin, adrenaline pumped through her veins immediately. She then got the puck moving by moving her stick from side-to-side once again to keep it from straying. She gained speed halfway. She knew goalies. She basically could read their minds. She could tell that Coach Merther expected her to do her curve-puck type shot again. But, her father being a baseball player and a hockey player, her hockey shots were similar to baseball pitches. She did the curveball already. She was going to do a fastball (excuse me, I mean, fastpuck). She made the puck go to the left. Since Coach was expecting a curvepuck, his body went flying to the right. Chelsea laughed. He looked quite idiotic, actually. You know, with his fat flying all over the place.
Hey, Coach. Ever heard of NutriSystem for Men? It is promoted by Mike Golic. He is a sports caster. Right? Yes. He is on that corny Mike & Mike show.
When Coach Merther heard the swishing of the goal, he let his head fall to the ice. He had been humiliated; by a girl hockey player; a sixteen year old female hockey player. He was the best hockey goalie in the state.
Yeah, Coach. Was. Maybe you could be better if you didn't stuff so many Twinkies in your mouth after practice.
"Well Coach," Dustin spoke up. "What do you think?"
Coach Merther sighed. "Well, there is no denying the girl has skills. Good skills. She could easily be competing with the boys. She could possibly be even one of the best shooters in the state. But, we should see. Our senior goalie, Scott Parker, is currently the best goalie in the Northeast. He is good; he is going to the National Goalie Championships this year. Some of the best shooters in the country can't get by him, maybe once or twice in a set of thirty. He should be here any minute…" Coach trailed off as he looked at his watch, "...now." With that, a tall boy with the kind of hair you would see on thirteen-year-old boys today—straight hair that comes down to the ear then flips out, but not in a ugly way like Chelsea had seen on many of the boys at her old high school—walked onto the rink in skates, his goalie gear, in his yellow and blue Seymour Academy Cows jersey.
"Coach," Scott Parker said. "Who the hell is this?"
Chelsea was getting kind of sick of people asking this question. She was getting kind of sick of it.
"Chelsea Moore," Chelsea said, grabbing Scott's goalie glove-clad hand to shake it. "My grandfather is the dean. I have been having some…family problems," Chelsea explained she didn't feel like telling a complete stranger that her mother was an alcoholic and a drug addict.
Scott frowned and looked at Coach Merther. "And she is in hockey skates, why?"
"She is trying out," Coach Merther said.
Scott laughed. "Ha. Yeah right. This shrimp? No way."
Anger started to bubble up in Chelsea's veins. She wanted to show this jerk what Chelsea Moore can actually do.
"Get in the goal," Chelsea huffed.
"Is this a joke?" Scott asked.
Coach Merther shook his head. "The girl has skills."
Scott laughed again. "Yeah. Okay. I bet you that she can't get three out of five shots past me."
Coach Merther raised his eyebrows. "I may have to go on Scott's side here, Chelsea. Three out of five? Are you nuts? This is the best goalie in the Northeast."
Scott shot Chelsea the smuggest grin you would ever see in your life. Chelsea wanted to go over there and smack it off. But she had to concentrate.
He did her ceremonial circling of the puck. She decided just to do the fastpuck just for the heck of it. She might as well give him one. As she gained speed, she once again moved the stick back-and-forth and as she reached the goal, she swung her arms back and slammed the puck into the wooden surface of the stick. Like a mutant cat with ridiculous reflexes, Scott pulled out his hand and caught it easily.
Chelsea said nothing to Scott, swooped the puck away with a swipe of her stick and circled the goal. She then set it up, circled it, and the adrenaline began. No more Mrs. Nice Girl. Hello, Mrs. Lets-Hit-Scott-Parker-In-The-Face-With-A-Hockey-Puck. She decided to do her curvepuck. But, too bad for Scott. He thought it was another fast, easy one. Once he saw the puck head left, he leaped and tried to catch it. Too bad it was a foot and a half away from him. As Chelsea came over to Scott to collect the puck, she shot him a smug grin.
Enjoying payback, Scott?
"Lucky shot," Scott said under his breath.
She decided to do her slider this time. She circled the goal, set up the puck, and circled it once again. As she skated forward, she shot it straight at Scott's chest. Too bad it wasn't heading there. It then went downwards at a ninety degree angle, sliding underneath his legs quickly. He swore under his breath.
She decided to do her change-up. She loved this one and saved it for last. It could go anywhere. Up, down, left, right, or diagonally. She circled the goal, circled her puck, and gained speed. When she got close, she shot it. It went ever direction imaginable. Scott was so confused, he flailed his arms everywhere. He looked like a total idiot.
Ha. So much for best goalie in the Northeast. Northwest of what? The Northeast of campus?
As Chelsea circled the goal and went to the center of the ice, she was on one knee, pumping her fist in the air. She didn't get three out of five, but she got three out of four instead.
Dustin ran onto the ice, still in his sneakers and picked up Chelsea in his arms and swung her around. When Chelsea got down, she went up to Coach Merther and asked, "Well, Coach? How did I do? Did I make the team?"
"Well, Chelsea," Coach said neutrally. His voice was unreadable. "I think it is better…since you are a girl that…"