Breakaway Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Other Series Titles

  Publication Information

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  About the Author

  Other titles from Coteau Books

  in the Jessie Mac series by Maureen Ulrich

  Power Plays

  Face Off

  © Maureen Ulrich, 2012

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written consent of the publisher or a licence from The Canadian Copyright Licensing Agency (Access Copyright). For an Access Copyright licence, visit www.accesscopyright.ca or call toll-free to 1-800-893-5777.

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Edited by Alison Acheson

  Typeset by Susan Buck

  Cover photograph by Tracy (Kerestesh) Portraits

  Published in Canada

  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

  Ulrich, Maureen, 1958-

  Breakaway / Maureen Ulrich.

  EPUB-ISBN 9781550507201

  I. Title.

  PS8641.L75B74 2012 jC813'.6 C2012-903811-3

  Issued also in print format.

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2012936050

  Available in Canada from:

  Coteau Books – 2517 Victoria Avenue, Regina, Saskatchewan, Canada S4P 0T2

  www.coteaubooks.com

  Publishers Group Canada – 9050 Shaughnessy Street, Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada V6P 6E5

  Available in the US from: Orca Book Publishers • www.orcabook.com • 1-800-210-5277

  Coteau Books gratefully acknowledges the financial support of its publishing program by: the Saskatchewan Arts Board, the Canada Council for the Arts, the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund and the City of Regina Arts Commission.

  For Mom and Dad, Herman and Marlene

  – Chapter One –

  It’s my first time at a professional football game, and my first time wearing a watermelon. I’ve got a skullcap underneath, but juice keeps slithering down my back. “How do I look?” I ask Kathy Parker.

  She turns away from the mirror where she’s been applying a green S to each cheek and stares at me, one blonde eyebrow cocked. “You look like that little Martian from Bugs Bunny. What’s his name again?”

  “I don’t know who you mean,” I say.

  “McIntyre, you’re pathetic. Didn’t you ever watch cartoons as a kid?” She tightens the elastic on each blonde pigtail, dyed bright green, before jamming on her own watermelon.

  I don’t answer. After three years of playing hockey with Kathy, I know the majority of her questions are rhetorical.

  Teneil and Miranda are waiting for us outside the bathroom, sucking on their fountain pops. From the smug looks on their faces, I know they conned somebody into buying them alcoholic drinks, and they’ve dumped them in their cups. Teneil’s wearing a green crop top and skanky shorts. Miranda’s got on a Roughrider halter and green beads in her jet-black cornbraids. Way too much chocolate skin showing on her.

  Teneil beckons to us impatiently. “Hurry up!”

  We don’t need to ask the attendant at the top of the stairs for directions since we’re using the Parkers’ season tickets.

  I look up into the stands. It’s a scorching Sunday afternoon, the hottest day yet in August. Our seats are in the nineteenth row under the roof, but there’s scarcely a breath of wind, and the humidity is killer. I fan my program and try not to think about the moist, sticky patches between my shoulder blades, the lack of oxygen in this stifling air, and the watermelon compressing my head into an egg shape.

  “It’s so hot. What if I pass out on the way up?” I ask Kathy.

  She smacks me on the head. “That’s what the melon’s for!”

  I concentrate on every step until we finally reach Row Nineteen. The Parkers’ seats are in the middle of the section. Some guys wearing green body paint stand up to let us by.

  “You ladies thirsty?” one of them asks.

  Miranda and Teneil stop to flirt, but Kathy and I keep going. When we get to our seats, I sit down and take it all in – the prairie vista of browns and blue, Regina’s red brick skyline, and Mosaic Stadium’s patchwork quilt of greens. Someone taps me on the shoulder, and I turn around. A short, bald man who looks like he’s trying to digest a watermelon is beaming at me.

  Bud Prentice, my coach from SaskFirst.

  “Hey, Bud!” I stand up and give him a hug. Not a big hug because I’m too sweaty. “Kathy never said you had season tickets here.”

  “I don’t. I bought these off a friend.” He gives Kathy a hug too. “Where’s your fella?”

  “Sitting down there with his homeys.” Kathy gestures to a lower section.

  “The Queen of the Penalty Box and the Referee.” Bud shakes his head and laughs. “So ironic.”

  Kathy gives him a patient smile. “Yeah, you’re the first one to point that out.”

  “You got a fella, Jessie?” Bud asks.

  “Nope.”

  “Evan’s a fella,” Kathy says.

  “Not my fella,” I say. “Who are you here with, Bud?”

  Bud turns his belly, so we can see the little boy absorbed in the video game he’s playing. “This is my grandson Zack,” Bud says. “Say hello, Zack.”

  “Hello Zack.” The little guy grins at us.

  “You’re cute,” Kathy says.

  Teneil and Miranda squeeze past Kathy and me, balancing their cokes and now...cans of Pilsner.

  “Made some friends?” I ask.

  Teneil narrows her eyes at me. “What are you? The Fun Police?”

  Bud raises a fuzzy grey eyebrow.

  Miranda looks at Bud and puts both her drinks under her seat. “Hi, Bud.” If her dark skin could show it, she’d be blushing.

  Teneil, on the other hand, tips back the Pilsner. She’s never made SaskFirst, and Bud’s never coached her, so I guess she doesn’t care what he thinks.

  Embarrassed, I make the introductions.

  “I remember you,” Teneil says to Bud. “You cut me last year at Zones, but I didn’t care. I play Club Volleyball.”

  I don’t have to
look at Kathy to know she’s rolling her eyes.

  A tight smile tugs at the corners of Bud’s mouth. “Glad to hear it. Girls who play sports are more likely to finish school and stay out of trouble.” He removes his ball cap and mops his damp forehead with a handkerchief. “What was it you girls called yourselves in SaskFirst?”

  “The Onerfuls,” Kathy says.

  We all start reminiscing about the week we spent in Humboldt two years ago during the Winter Games.

  But not Teneil. I can tell from her body language she’s ticked.

  Zack tugs at Bud’s sleeve. “Grandpa, I’m hungry.”

  Bud rubs his round belly. “What’re we having now?”

  “Fries,” the boy says.

  Bud introduces him to Miranda and Teneil.

  “Hey, Zack.” Miranda holds her hand out for a high-five.

  Zack rears back and smacks it.

  “Zack’s from your neck of the woods,” Bud explains. “My daughter and son-in-law live in North Portal now.”

  “Grandpa!” Zack says impatiently. “Fries!”

  Bud sighs and sits down heavily. “The walk’s too much for me. Would one of you girls mind?”

  Miranda holds out a hand. “Wanna come with us, little man? We’ll score you some fries.”

  Without another word, Zack climbs over the back of the seat and leads Miranda down the row. Teneil starts to take her beer with her, but I snipe it out of her hand.

  “I’ll hold it until you get back,” I say.

  Teneil shoots me a dirty look.

  “So tell me about Triple A,” Bud says after they’re gone.

  “The league voted at their annual meeting to let us in,” Kathy explains.

  Bud whistles. “Nine midget girls’ teams next year. I didn’t think the league would expand beyond eight.”

  “Most teams wanted more games, so now there’ll be thirty-two in the schedule, instead of twenty-eight,” I say.

  “How’ll you afford ice time?” asks Bud.

  “An oilfield supply company is donating it.” Kathy spreads her hands. “We’re going to be the Estevan McGillicky Oilers.”

  Bud whistles. “Very appropriate, since Estevan is Boomtown. Lots of oil money down there.”

  “Dad says southeast Saskatchewan is the only place in the world untouched by the recession,” I point out.

  Kathy snorts. “There you go, McIntyre. Trying to sound all grown up.”

  “It’s true,” I say, sitting down.

  “Big money usually means big problems,” Bud says.

  “Tell me about it.” I try to waft some air under my tank top. “We go to a great high school, but there’re too many kids doing drugs.”

  “I hope you girls are careful,” Bud says.

  “We’re seventeen, Bud,” Kathy says.

  Bud laughs. “Of course.”

  “I’ll tell you what else big money does.” Kathy hovers over me, blocking what little breeze there is. “It builds a kickass rink. Did you hear about it?”

  Bud nods while we tell him about Spectra Place, the brand new facility where the Estevan Bruins and our hockey team will be playing.

  “Think you’ll have a decent team?” Bud asks.

  Kathy steps down hard on my toes. A warning. The look she’s giving me is loaded.

  “Depends on who comes to our camp next weekend,” I say.

  “And Sue’s coaching?” he persists. “How’s she going to manage that and her engineering job?”

  “She says she can’t do it full time. Marty can’t help her either because he’s a vice-principal now. Minor Hockey’s trying to find us a head coach.”

  “Still?”

  The word hangs in the air.

  And then the dreaded question.

  “You girls have any plans for after graduation?”

  “I don’t have a clue,” Kathy says.

  “What about you, Jessie?” Bud asks.

  “I wish I knew.”

  Kathy’s cellphone plinks, and she stares at the screen. “It’s Brett,” she says. “Jessie, you sure you don’t want to hang out with us tonight?”

  “I don’t have fake ID, remember?”

  She turns away and starts texting.

  “Are you going to try for a hockey scholarship?” Bud asks.

  I look into his pale blue eyes. “Kathy and I are going to the U of S camp on Labour Day weekend. Do you think we have a shot at playing there next year?”

  “Course you do. I could see that the first year you played Midget.”

  Thirty thousand fans boo as the Edmonton team is introduced, then rise collectively and roar as the Riders take the field.

  “Talk to you later!” I shout at Bud.

  Kathy and I get caught up in the pregame festivities and the opening kickoff. Miranda, Teneil and Zack come back with the fries. I give Teneil her beer when she asks for it, but Miranda never touches hers again. Kathy provides a running commentary about what’s going on at field level. Good thing she knows football because I don’t. By the end of the first quarter, the Riders are leading by a touchdown, and we are dancing, cheering and chanting with the rest of the fans.

  “I have to take a leak,” Kathy says. “Come with me!”

  After we use the washroom, we try to wash off the watermelon juice in the communal sink. The green Kool-Aid in Kathy’s hair starts leaking down her neck.

  “You’re bleeding green,” I say, wringing out the collar of my jersey.

  Kathy laughs and squeezes the excess moisture out of her pigtails. “I’m also hungry,” she says. “Want a hot dog?”

  “Sue says we’re supposed to be in training,” I argue. “There’s no nutritional value in a wiener.”

  “Live a little, McIntyre,” Kathy says.

  I push the bathroom door open. “You think Sue will stick around if Minor Hockey finds us a head coach?”

  “Sue loves us,” Kathy replies.

  “Maybe she loves you,” I reply. “I never know where I stand with her.”

  Even after two years of coaching, Sue Hannah seems to have her guard up. Not like Bud.

  “You just stand there and think about how far playing it safe gets you while I go load up a hot dog with Rider mix,” Kathy says.

  “I’m wearing a watermelon,” I reply. “For me, that’s living on the edge.”

  Kathy snickers and heads towards the concession while I contemplate tossing my melon in the garbage. Then again, what will my hair look like without it?

  “Now that’s what I call dedication,” a voice says behind me.

  I turn around. The speaker is a tall, dark-haired girl wearing a green cowboy hat and a short white skirt. Something about her laugh is familiar, but I can’t place her.

  “You actually like wearing that?” she asks.

  I try to fake it. “What are you up to nowadays?”

  She seems to enjoy my discomfort. “You have no idea who I am.”

  “No,” I admit. “Give me a hint.”

  Her grin broadens, and a diamond sparkles in one of her teeth. “You still play hockey?”

  “Yes.” Something clicks, and I look for the rose tattoo on her ankle. “Brittni Wade.”

  “You honestly didn’t recognize me?” Brittni asks.

  “Your hair’s a different colour. And you’re thinner.”

  “Thanks.” She adjusts the brim of her cowboy hat.

  “Didn’t you go to hairdressing school?” I ask.

  Brittni opens the purse slung over her shoulder and removes a business card. “I’m at a salon on Rochdale. Come see me next time you’re in town. I’ve always wanted to do something with this.” She lifts a crunchy strand of my hair.

  I change the subject. “What’s Cory up to?”

  “Cory’s a slut. I haven’t seen her since she slept with my ex.”

  A tall guy holding two beer cans comes up behind Brittni and touches one to her bare shoulder.

  She starts. “Hey!”

  “Hey yourself,” he says.
<
br />   “Jessie, this is Jamie, my fiancé.”

  My eyes dart from the rock on Brittni’s left hand to the guy. His broken nose and reddish hair look familiar too.

  “Hi, Jamie,” I say.

  “I’d shake your hand, but as you can see...” Jamie gestures with the two beer cans.

  “So when’s the big day?”

  “Night,” Brittni corrects me. “We’re getting married on New Year’s Eve.”

  “Can you believe it?” Jamie scowls. “I’ll miss watching Canada in the World Juniors, and so will my buds. I’ll never hear the end of it.”

  Brittni’s face darkens, but for me, a light flips on.

  “You played in Humboldt with Mark Taylor,” I say.

  He nods while taking a sip of beer.

  “So what do you do now?” I ask.

  He wipes his mouth. “Plumber’s apprentice.”

  “I used to play hockey with Jessie,” Brittni interrupts. “Back in Estevan. Good times. Right, Jessie?”

  “Right.” Apparently she’s forgotten about calling me an f’ing do-gooder.

  “That dyke still coaching?”

  I pretend not to hear her question. “So Mark’s playing with Calgary again?” I ask Jamie.

  He salutes me with a beer can, then drains it and belches loudly. “Go Hitmen.” He offers me the other can.

  “I don’t drink beer,” I say quickly.

  “Jessie doesn’t drink at all,” Brittni explains. “At least she doesn’t any more. Isn’t that right, Jessie?”

  I hate it when people know your dirt.

  “Look me up on Mainpage.” Brittni hands me her business card. “Remember what I said about your hair.”

  As they walk away, I think about Jamie’s metamorphosis from hockey player to plumber. When did he give up the Dream?

  For guys, it’s the NHL. For girls, it’s the National Team.

  If you want them badly enough, your dreams will all come true, adults are always telling us. Very few of us don’t succumb to that myth. Sometimes wanting isn’t enough.

  Like Mark and me. I want him back something fierce, but I’m not any closer to that dream than I was two years ago.

  When I was going out with him, he said he wouldn’t play hockey after high school. He said he wanted to be an engineer – not an ex-hockey player with bad knees and an identity crisis.

  That was before he broke up with me, started dating Holly, and moved to Humboldt to play with the Broncos. From there he stepped up to the Calgary Hitmen. Apparently the dream caught hold of him too.