Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 63335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Chase scans the group, maybe looking for me, his gaze lifting higher. I pull the toque on my head as his eyes pass over me a second time and then stop. My cheeks flame as his grin widens. I lift a tentative hand in a wave and he waves back.
“Shut them down tonight, Steele!” someone else shouts and Gage fist-pumps the air and sends a wink in their direction.
“Woohoo! I hope you score a goal tonight, Lovett!” a girl shouts from behind me.
“Show them how it’s done!” another girl yells.
I go rigid. I swear I know those voices. I pull my hood up and as covertly as possible, glance over my shoulder. I’m right. Barbie and Annabelle are in the row behind me, down a few seats to the left. They’re decked out in school gear, wearing their team spirit in fake tattoos on their cheeks. They’re surrounded by other girls, all pretty like my sister, all dressed in school colors, showing their support.
I might not love Barbie and Annabelle, but they know hockey, and they have a group of friends who share the same love for the sport. And here I am, wearing my usual LotR hoodie and a pom-pom beanie, feeling like a complete imposter. It doesn’t matter that I’m dating Chase, I’m still the weird girl who writes fanfic.
“I heard Lovett has a girlfriend,” another girl says.
“Yeah, he’s dating some weirdo on our floor, but she doesn’t come to his games. She probably doesn’t even watch hockey,” Barbie scoffs.
“Shh. I think maybe she’s in front of us,” Annabelle whispers.
“What? Where?” Barbie asks.
I sink down in my seat.
“She probably calls it sportsball and doesn’t even care about his position,” Barbie scoffs.
“I heard she’s obsessed with hobbits or something,” Annabelle adds.
“Do you mean hermits? I’d never even seen her before Chase made her into a somebody.”
Barbie’s voice rings out above me. “She’s a loser who doesn’t even come to parties because she’s always in her room or something. I don’t even know if she has friends.”
I could move. But then I’d draw more attention to myself. Which I don’t want. I wish Tally would get here so I’m not alone, feeling like I don’t belong here. Like I don’t fit with his friends or teammates.
If I pretend I don’t hear them, what message am I giving? That they can continue to shit all over me? Make fun of me because I don’t fit in with them?
“Hey, guys.” I turn and wave at them. “I didn’t see you at the hockey party last week. Probably because Barbie stole Mac’s jersey and posted pictures wearing it and got banned from his place. Feels like an exceptionally weird thing to do if you ask me.” Apparently that was why they were late-night sprinting out of his house the other week.
Tally, bless her well-timed heart, comes down the row saying excuse me and sorry to every person she passes. Her expression is one of concern.
“Tally! Hey!” Annabelle waves manically.
Tally waves and gives them a tight smile.
Barbie pales as I move my jacket for her.
Tally frowns as she takes in my face. She glances at Barbiebelle and the rest of their crew, who all look super uncomfortable, and drops into the seat next to me.
“What just happened?”
“I called out the mean girls.” My face feels like it’s on fire.
Tally’s lip curls. She shoots a glare over her shoulder. “Good for you.”
They sink into their chairs.
Tally shakes her head and rolls her eyes.
“You’re a powerful ally, aren’t you?” I muse.
“In this realm, yes. Anywhere else, not really.”
“I don’t know about that.”
The game starts and we turn our attention to the ice.
Tally really knows the game, and she is loud about her feelings. She explains every play to me with genuine enthusiasm. She stands up often and chirps the refs. Hockey in real life is a hell of a lot different than hockey on TV. It’s exciting and fast-paced. Chase manages an assist in the second period, which Tally tells me is a really big deal because he’s a freshman and they don’t get a ton of ice time. We shout and clap, and he gives me a chin tip and a wink after he and Brody slam into each other as they switch places on the ice.
At the end of the game, Tally grabs my hand and pulls me out of the seat. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“To say hi to Chase before he goes into the locker room.”
I let her drag me through the crowd of people toward the gate where the team files off the ice. A couple of the other players stop to give girls wearing their jerseys kisses before they continue to the locker room. My stomach flips as Chase steps off the ice and removes his helmet. His hair is wet with sweat, his entire face glistens and beads drip down his temples.