Breakaway Page 12

  Mom shakes her head gently. “You’re misunderstanding me. I just meant you’re too young to be involved with someone who’s so serious about you.” She pauses and clears her throat. “I’ve had some heart to hearts with him – when you’re not home.”

  “You have? What does he say?”

  The doorbell rings.

  We stare at each other for a second.

  “That’s probably Jodi,” I say, standing up.

  As soon as I open the door, I know something’s wrong. Jodi’s got a shopping bag in her hands, and I can tell what’s inside.

  Her Oiler jerseys.

  “You didn’t take long to get here,” I say.

  “I came from the church. I was talking to Pastor Matt,” she replies.

  “Do you at least want to come inside?”

  She steps past me, and I close the door.

  Mom waves at Jodi and slips back into the dining room. “I’ll give you girls some space.”

  Jodi sets the bag beside the closet. “I’ll get straight to the point.”

  “Okay.”

  She purses her lips, tucks her dark hair behind her ears. “AAA isn’t what I thought it would be. I thought I’d be surrounded by girls who are serious about hockey, and I thought I could overlook the fact many of them don’t put Jesus first.”

  “Jodi ...”

  She puts up her hand abruptly. “I knew I could count on you to say and do what’s right for the team and for us as individuals. That’s why I voted for you as captain.”

  I am blown away. Jodi voted for me?

  Her next words snuff out my joy. “But that was a mistake. You’re not the person I thought you were.” Her eyes search my face. “You’re a lot like the girl I used to be. And this team is heading in a dangerous direction. I’m not getting dragged down again.”

  “Jodi, it’s not what you think. Let me explain.”

  “It’s too late for that.” She takes a step backwards. “See you around.”

  She opens the door and shuts it behind her.

  I stand there and stare at it for the longest time, wondering: how did I get here? If I could just figure out where I tripped, maybe I could make things right. But I can’t.

  And just when I think things couldn’t possibly get worse.

  They do.

  Oh, they do.

  – Chapter Twenty-three –

  Shit hits the fan during dryland. I know something’s wrong when Sue and Bud both show up at the Leisure Centre. We’re doing circuit training when they walk in.

  Sue marches straight over to me. “Team meeting in Room A in the library in ten minutes. Get your players there. Make sure you get hold of anybody who isn’t here.” She starts to walk away, then looks back at me. “No need to call Jodi, is there?”

  “No, there isn’t.”

  I harbour a faint hope the meeting is about Jodi quitting and the adjustments we’ll have to make to compensate for her loss. But it’s very faint.

  The only girl missing from dryland – besides Jodi – is a Rookie who pulled her groin on Sunday. I text her and tell to get her butt over here ASAP. She doesn’t have a ride, so Miranda volunteers to pick her up.

  “Don’t be long,” I tell Miranda as she changes into her street shoes.

  As we walk down the hall towards the library, music is booming through the walls of the multi-purpose room.

  “Gunvor,” Kathy says.

  We look through the glass in the double doors. Gunvor, the Leisure Centre’s premier fitness instructor, is putting the Bruins through their paces. Her workouts are legendary.

  “Poor guys,” Carla says. “She’ll kill them for sure.”

  “Well, Sue’s going to kill us,” Kathy says.

  Once we’re in the library, we assemble around the tables arranged in the centre of the meeting room. No one talks. We just stare at one another like we’re playing high-stakes poker instead of waiting for the hammer to fall.

  I’ve no doubt it’s coming down hard.

  Then Bud and Sue arrive. They stand in the doorway like a pair of bouncers. Their faces are grim.

  We’re done, I think. And we hardly got started. We’ll never know if Amy’s got what it takes to get us through a whole season because our coaches are going to pull the plug.

  When Miranda and the Rookie finally arrive, Bud and Sue step in the room. Sue slams the door behind her. She speaks first. In two years, I’ve never heard or seen her like this.

  “Why is it we have to learn things about our own team from an outside source? Do you think we enjoy finding out our captain – a girl we trusted, a girl we respected – had the audacity to bring booze to a team party on a game weekend? And lie to us about how she sustained an injury to her face?”

  Said face is flaming scarlet. Every girl in the room is staring at me, and I inhale their fear. If Sue finds out they were all drinking at the party, what will she do?

  “Who told you?” I croak.

  “Does it matter?” she demands. “The whole city knows about it.”

  Bud steps closer, and his disappointment washes over me. “Did it go to your head...being captain?” he asks.

  What’s the right thing to do now, I wonder.

  You know, my little voice says.

  “I guess it did,” I reply. “I’m sorry.”

  “You’re sorry.” There’s no pleasure in Sue’s tone. “Do you have anything else to say to your teammates?”

  “I let you all down,” I tell them. “I set a bad example.”

  “Who else was drinking at that party?” Bud asks.

  Shit.

  It takes a few minutes, but Kathy puts up her hand, then Carla, then Whitney, then everyone else. Everyone except Jennifer and Amy.

  “We weren’t there,” Amy says, pointing at Jennifer.

  Bud leans against the wall and crosses his arms. “Jodi phoned me last night and told me she was quitting. She said she didn’t realize how much of a commitment AAA would be. She said it was impacting her grades and other aspects of her life.” He pauses. “Do you think she was influenced by what happened at that party?”

  “Yes, she was. She told me so,” I say, but telling the truth is no relief.

  “Terrific,” Sue says.

  “Is there anything else we need to know?” Bud asks.

  “We don’t want to hear more crap later,” Sue says. “We want it all – here and now.”

  We stare at the floor. One of the Rookies starts crying.

  “That’s it,” I say. “Do whatever you need to do. We deserve it.”

  “Go home, and tell your parents exactly what you did,” Bud says.

  “And keep your mouth shut when you go to school. Our dirty laundry is nobody’s business,” Sue adds.

  We file past them one by one. I’m last, and I’m hoping they won’t hold me back for further reprisal. Mercifully, they don’t.

  Amy waits for me outside the library. “What in the hell happened at that party?” she asks.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” I brush by her.

  What I want to do is go home and talk to Mom. There’s no way I’m lying to her the way I lied to my coaches today.

  I go to the locker room, grab my street clothes, and stuff them in my backpack. When I straighten up, Kathy’s there. Most of the others are there too, but they keep their distance.

  “I can’t believe you threw yourself under the bus like that,” Kathy says. “I owe you. We all owe you.”

  “Why did you fess up to the drinking?” I demand. “If you’d kept your mouths shut, they’d just punish me. They wouldn’t quit on us. You do realize they’re going to quit, don’t you?”

  “They would have found out, Jessie,” Kathy says. “We couldn’t keep lying to them.”

  “Then how come nobody told them I didn’t bring the booze? Was that too much trouble?”

  “I didn’t think,” Kathy says. “The whole thing took me by surprise. I’m sorry.”

  “Are you?” I dig in my ba
ckpack for my phone. “Or did you think this was a great way to get me stripped of the C?”

  “Big Mac, I’d never do that.”

  They all start apologizing then. I can’t stand it anymore, and I call Mom to shut them out.

  “What’s up?” Mom asks.

  “Do you need me to pick up Courtney from volleyball? I’m done dryland already.”

  “Sure.” She sounds surprised. “You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?”

  I swallow a sob before answering. “No, I’ll tell you about it later.”

  “Okay, see you soon.”

  I hang up.

  Kathy’s still there. “What kind of a person do you think I am?” she asks.

  I have no words left. I turn my body so I don’t touch her or any of the others on my way out.

  – Chapter Twenty-four –

  “I heard Sue’s quitting,” Teneil says.

  How in the hell did she know to look for me in this corner of the library?

  “Please go away,” I tell her. “This is none of your business.”

  “Why? Because I got cut?”

  “Get over it already,” I say. “You’ve got lots of positive things in your life. Why don’t you focus on them for a change?”

  She turns on her heel and walks away. I close my history textbook, fold my arms on top of it, and lay my head on my arms.

  “Nice one,” a male voice says behind me.

  “It didn’t feel very nice.”

  Liam slides into a chair across the table from me. “So how are things going? Amy says it’s pretty bad.”

  “Bud cancelled our practices this week.” I squeeze my eyes to hold back the tears. “Luckily we don’t have games this weekend, or he’d probably forfeit. I don’t know if we have practice next week or if we’ll go to North Battleford.” I take a breath. “I think Bud and Sue are going to quit.”

  “Look, I know you weren’t drunk that night. I can talk to them.”

  “They already know the whole team was drinking,” I tell him. “What they think about me isn’t going to make any difference.”

  “Did you tell your parents?”

  “I told them the truth – if that’s what you mean.”

  “And they believed you?”

  “Well, there was a time when they wouldn’t have.” I smile at the thought. “It took some convincing to stop them from calling Sue and Bud themselves. That’s all I need. Parents defending their kid. You know how that looks.”

  “So now what?” He leans forward and puts his elbows on the table.

  “Sit and wait, I guess.”

  He looks from side to side, and then says quietly, “In the meantime, you could come out to my place. Have you ever ridden a registered quarter horse?”

  “This isn’t a good time, Liam.”

  “Funny you should mention time,” he says. “I won’t have her much longer, and I’d really like you to see her.”

  “I’m sorry. My life is just too complicated right now.”

  My phone beeps. A text from Evan.

  Miss you, he says.

  Speaking of complications.

  “I have to get going.” I stand and gather my books. “How did you find me anyway?”

  “Amy told me.” Liam says. “Coming to my football game tomorrow?”

  “Probably not,” I say. “The last thing I need is people linking our names. Not after what happened at Whitney’s.”

  “Why are you so worried about what people think?” he asks. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Isn’t that enough?”

  “I really have to go. See you around.” I walk away without looking back.

  –

  Jodi and I have drifted apart in the last two years. Different interests. Different values. But she’s important to me, and her opinion of me matters. She won’t respond to my texts, so I try to call her at home on Thursday night. Her mom tells me she’s at church. Apparently she and Michelle have started up a Bible study group for tweenies.

  “I wish I knew why she quit hockey,” Mrs. Palmer says. “Do you know, Jessie?”

  How am I supposed to answer that question?

  “I’m not sure,” I tell her. “I think it had something to do with school.”

  “There’s no doubt it’s more difficult for her since the accident,” Mrs. Palmer says. “We’re lucky to have her with us. The hockey was a stretch.”

  I hop in Sunny and drive over to Jodi’s church and wait for her outside. While I’m sitting there, I get a text from Evan. There’s been lots of them lately – and at odd times too. Times when he’s usually in a lab or at practice. It worries me he’s not more focused on school and basketball. His league is starting soon.

  Call me, he says.

  Jodi should be out any minute. I don’t want to miss her.

  In an hour. Promise, I text back.

  I wish I knew what Sue and Bud are thinking. I’ll find out at the pow wow at the rink on Monday night. Apparently representatives from Estevan Minor Hockey will be there too.

  Talk about airing out our dirty laundry.

  Cars swing in and out of the parking lot as kids dribble out of the church. Then Jodi and Michelle appear. Jodi’s got her guitar case.

  I roll down my window. “Hey!”

  They both look in my direction.

  “Jodi, can I talk to you for a minute?”

  Jodi extricates herself from Michelle, who watches while Jodi approaches my car.

  “What’s up?” Jodi asks.

  “I’d like to clear up some stuff. Maybe we could go somewhere and grab a pop.”

  She looks at her phone. “I have to give Michelle a ride home.”

  “Will you at least let me explain?” I ask. “I’m disappointed you didn’t come to me before jumping to conclusions about that party.”

  “I didn’t jump to conclusions,” she says. “I got my facts from somebody who was there.”

  “Who?”

  “Whitney.”

  “Jodi, you barely know her! Why didn’t you ask me what happened? I thought we were friends.”

  “Jessie, until you put God first in your life, we will never be close,” she says. “But you should know I quit hockey for other reasons. I want to apply to Education, and hockey interferes with my grades. I thought I could make it work, but I can’t.”

  “But you’re so talented. You’re the best of all of us. Don’t you want to play hockey after high school?”

  “Jessie, aren’t you listening? I can’t do school and hockey. Not like you can.” She sighs. “Besides, you saw how I acted this weekend.”

  “You mean when you scored a hat trick?”

  “No, when I freaked on everybody.” She shudders. “Aggression is a symptom of my brain injury. If I can’t control myself, I need to stay out of the combat zone.”

  I can’t argue with her.

  “Good luck with your hockey, Jessie Mac, wherever it takes you.”

  It’s the first time she’s called me that in a long time.

  “Thanks.”

  I watch as she and Michelle get into her car. I wave as they drive past, and Jodi waves back.

  That’s that.

  –

  A girl called for you,” Mom says when I get home. She’s sitting at the kitchen table, assembling a photo album. “I wrote down the number on the notepad beside the phone.”

  I pick up the notepad and stare at it. “I don’t recognize the number. Did she leave a message?”

  “She was in a hurry,” Mom says. “Why don’t you find out who it is?”

  “I don’t feel like it right now.”

  “Things didn’t go well with Jodi, did they?” Mom asks.

  I shake my head.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “No.” I wipe my eyes and take another look at the phone number. “Is that a Regina prefix?”

  “Looks like it,” Mom says.

  I pick up the phone and dial. It rings four times before someone answers.

&nbs
p; “It’s Jessie McIntyre, returning your call,” I explain, feeling foolish. “I don’t know who I’m speaking to.”

  “It’s Brittany,” the voice says.

  I mentally review the Brittanys I know. The list is remarkably short.

  “Brittni – as in Brittni Wade,” she says. “We played hockey together two years ago. I just saw you at a Rider game in August.”

  “Oh, right.” I don’t have the faintest notion why she would be calling me. “How are you?”

  “Great,” she says. “Jamie and I are getting married on New Year’s Eve.”

  “I remember you telling me that.”

  “I was wondering if you’d like to be in the wedding party.”

  “You want me to come to your wedding?” I ask.

  “I want you to be a bridesmaid.”

  It’s another one of those knock-me-over-with-a-feather moments. I sit down on the kitchen tile.

  “It won’t be a big expense. I’m telling all the girls to buy black cocktail dresses, something that suits them. Nothing slutty. The guys are wearing black tuxes. Jamie and I will be wearing white of course.”

  “What about Cory?”

  There’s a brief pause.

  “I told you about Cory and my ex-boyfriend, didn’t I?” Brittni adds, “Are you going to do it or not?”

  She makes me feel like I’m on a list of potential bridesmaids. If I say no, she’ll phone the name beneath mine. I don’t know much about weddings, but finding bridesmaids shouldn’t be like recruiting players for a three-on-three tournament.

  “Why me?” I ask.

  “You were a great teammate, Jessie,” she says. “I could always trust you to be honest.”

  It’s the nicest thing she’s ever said to me. Maybe the only nice thing.

  “I’d like a few more details. Are you getting married in Estevan?”

  “Are you kidding? I live in Regina. That’s where all my friends are.”

  Not all your friends – apparently.

  She tells me more about her plans for the wedding and reception.

  When she’s done, I ask, “Can I get back to you on Monday?”

  “Sure,” she says. “Thanks for thinking about it. It means a lot.”

  “Talk to you soon.” I put the phone back in its cradle.

  “Who was that?” Mom asks.

  “Brittni Wade.”