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Breakaway Page 19

“Does anybody else know?” I ask.

  “Just Sue. She’s good to talk to about stuff.” Amy picks up her cup and spits.

  This part of her confession makes me feel uncomfortable. Amy’s known Sue for such a short time, and she already knows her better than I do.

  Amy stands up. “Let’s go find Liam.”

  We make our way down to the horse barn, where Liam is in a box stall with Rusty, giving her a well-deserved rub down.

  “Lot of fuss for a few minutes,” Liam’s dad is saying as we approach.

  “What about eight seconds?” Liam says over his left shoulder. “Or less than eight!”

  “Zing!” Russell says, giving his dad a playful shove.

  “Look who’s here!” Liam’s mom hugs Amy and squeezes my forearm. “I didn’t expect to see you girls!”

  “Your family was just here,” Mr. MacArthur says to Amy. “You missed them by five minutes.” He eyes me uncertainly.

  “I’m Jessie,” I say. “I was at a party at your quonset a few weeks ago. I know Liam from school.”

  Mrs. MacArthur starts directing the small talk at this point, and from the information and looks she and Mr. MacArthur are trading, I gather they know exactly who I am. It’s a little unnerving to think I’ve been a topic of conversation in their household.

  In sharp contrast to this friendly exchange is Liam’s silence.

  He’s squatted in front of Rusty, rewrapping her front legs. While Amy and the MacArthurs make small talk, I put my hand under Rusty’s nose, and she sniffs it. I rub the velvety skin between her nostrils while she explores my sleeve with her lips, then snorts, throwing a string of snot on my jacket.

  Everyone but Liam laughs.

  “No hockey today?” Russell grins at me.

  “Not until Thursday.”

  “I want to come,” Russell says. “Can we go, Liam?”

  Liam mumbles something.

  “It’s in Milestone, Russell,” I explain. “We don’t play at home again until the week after.”

  “We’ll be there,” Russell grins. “Won’t we, Liam?”

  No response.

  “That was an awesome performance, Liam,” I say. “I’m glad I got to see it.”

  Liam shrugs, his back still turned.

  “Do you think Rusty will get a good price at the auction?” I ask.

  “We’ll find out this afternoon,” Mr. MacArthur says.

  “I’d bid on her myself if I had the cash,” says a female voice behind my right shoulder.

  I turn around to see a very pretty blonde. She has curves in places I can only dream about, a beautiful mouth and soft brown eyes. Worst of all, she is one of those girls born to wear a cowboy hat.

  “You folks thinking about getting something to eat?” she asks.

  “Sure thing.” Liam’s dad drapes an arm around the girl’s shoulders and leans his head toward hers, dwarfing her. “I missed breakfast this morning. Been thinking about a stack of pancakes and a pound of crisp bacon for hours.”

  “Me too.” She flashes her pearlies at Russell. “Comin,’ Hot Stuff?”

  “Sure am!’ he says.

  Her eyes swing right over me and Amy and rest on Liam’s mom. “What about you, Connie?”

  “I’ll hang out here for a bit,” Mrs. MacArthur says. “Maybe you girls would like to go.”

  “I’m not hungry,” I say. “And we have to find Amy’s family, right Amy?”

  “They were going to check out the exotic livestock,” Mr. MacArthur says.

  Liam stands up and leaves the stall. “I’m ready for something to eat,” he says. “Thanks for coming, Amy. I’ll see you later.” Liam walks away with the others, without a backward glance.

  Why would he look back, my little voice reasons. You saw the way the blonde was looking at him.

  “Liam said one time he wanted you to come out to our place and go riding,” Mrs. MacArthur says. “Do you think you might like to do that?”

  “I don’t have time,” I tell her, running my hand along Rusty’s neck. “I’m pretty busy with school and hockey and stuff.”

  “You kids,” Mrs. MacArthur says. “Liam’s the same way. Thank goodness football season is short. If he isn’t with Rusty, he’s over at Anne’s clinic.”

  “Clinic?” I ask.

  “Liam works for a vet,” Mrs. MacArthur says. “He wants to be a vet one day.”

  “Yeah, he told me that,” I say, giving Rusty a final pat. “Good luck with the sale.”

  “See you later, Connie,” Amy says.

  “See you.”

  As we walk away, I feel something gnawing at my stomach. It’s a familiar sensation. It means I’ve screwed things up royally. Again.

  “You sure pissed him off somewhere along the way,” Amy says.

  A bubble of regret rises in my throat. I nearly choke on it.

  “Let’s go look at those exotic animals,” Amy says gently. “Nothing cheers me up like an ostrich. Aren’t they the goofiest things?”

  I paste a smile on my face. “Who needs cheering up?”

  Amy smacks me on the back. “Atta girl!”

  –

  After the evening rodeo, I hitch a ride home with Amy’s aunt, who has to work the next day. As hard as I try not to, I sleep most of the way home. We don’t get back to Estevan until well after midnight, but Rufus waits up for me.

  I open the door to his kennel, and he emerges, wiggling and peeing on the newspaper, thrilled to be released from his prison.

  “How’s my big boy?” I pick him up and tuck him under my arm.

  Together we explore the contents of the fridge and find a package of yogurt. After I remove the top, I let Rufus lick the underside of the plastic wrap. I set him down and go into the living room, where Mom’s sleeping on the couch with a paperback propped on her chest. I sit in Dad’s recliner while Rufus hops up on the couch next to Mom, knocking her book onto the floor and waking her.

  “Hey! How did you...” She looks over at me and starts, lying back with her hand on her chest. “You scared me!”

  “Sorry.” I dip my spoon in the yogurt and savour the cool, creamy texture on my tongue. “How was your day?”

  “I’m far more interested in yours.” Mom rubs her eyes and pushes Rufus’ nose aside when he tries to lick her face.

  “Lots of horses and cows. I’m talking hundreds.”

  “Did you learn anything?”

  “Loads. Amy knows everything. Her family does it all – cattle showing, sales, rodeo – you name it. One of her dad’s heifers got reserve champion, and after the show, some guy from Ontario wanted to buy her.”

  “Well, somebody should buy her if she won.”

  I point my spoon at her. “Actually, reserve champion means she came in second. Grand champion is first.”

  “I guess you did learn something.” Mom sets her book on the coffee table, then pulls Rufus onto her chest and strokes his ears. “Would you like to explain your behaviour today?” She’s looking into Rufus’ eyes, but I know it’s me she’s talking to.

  I scrape the bottom of the container for the last spoonful of yogurt. “Can I tell you some other stuff first?”

  Mom stifles a yawn. “How much stuff?”

  I unload. By the time I’m finished, she’s sitting straight up, wide awake.

  “So what happened at the auction?” she asks.

  “A rancher from Camrose bought Rusty. Good price too. But the whole thing made me feel sad, even though I know I should be happy for Liam and his family.”

  “You know what I think?” Mom asks. “I think you’ve beaten yourself up long enough over Evan. And what happened with Liam isn’t your fault either. You’re a good girl, Jessie, and you have a big heart.”

  “You’re my mother. You have to say that.”

  She stands up and tucks Rufus under her arm. “It’s impossible to get through life without hurting people. You can try to avoid it, but it happens, in spite of your best intentions. Learn from it, and move on.�
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  “I’ll try.”

  “Now, on another front, I didn’t tell Courtney what you did today. I don’t need her thinking she’s got a free pass for skipping school, so don’t you tell her either.” She moves towards the stairs then pauses. “Do you think it’s all right for her to stay at Pam’s while your dad and I are in Vegas? ”

  “Of course. Pam’s a sweet kid.”

  “I’m glad Courtney’s stayed friends with her,” she says. “Are you going to bed soon?”

  “Pretty soon. I’m going to sit here for a while.”

  She walks back to me and deposits Rufus in my lap. “Here’s company.” She bends over and kisses my forehead. “I meant what I said earlier. Let yourself off the hook.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  – Chapter Thirty-seven –

  Our first game of the Notre Dame Showcase won’t be a walk in the park. The Balmoral Hall Blazers from Winnipeg play in the JWHL, a league comprised of ten teams from across Canada and the United States.

  “I keep telling myself the best part of this weekend is seeing Tara and Shauna again,” I say to Kathy as we step onto the ice for our warm-up. “I hope it’s not the only part I’ll want to remember.”

  Somebody tackles me from behind and pulls my jersey over my head, rendering me blind and helpless – but not deaf. Kathy’s splitting a gut, laughing.

  “Team captain, my ass!” Tara murmurs in my ear.

  I’m laughing too by the time my jersey is sorted out again, and Tara is grinning at me from behind her cage. I haven’t seen her for over a year although we’ve kept in touch.

  “How are things in AAA?” Tara asks.

  “Definitely decent, for a first go-round,” Kathy says, “but we haven’t played Notre Dame yet.”

  “Neither have we,” says Tara. “Guess that’s what the weekend’s all about, huh?” She stares pointedly at the opposite end of the arena, where university scouts are rumoured to be milling about in the lobby. “That – and them.”

  “Don’t remind me,” Kathy says.

  “You girls going to the Mac’s tournament?” Tara asks.

  “Most of us are,” Kathy says, giving me a significant look. “Jessie here’s got another commitment.”

  Tara raises a dark eyebrow.

  “I’m a bridesmaid at a wedding,” I explain.

  We make some small talk, catching up. Tara’s headed to Brown University in Providence next fall. I ask her about her Uncle Frank, Mark’s dad.

  Her shoulders droop. “His last report wasn’t good,” she says. “There’re some spots on his lungs.”

  “That’s terrible,” I say.

  “Cancer’s the worst,” Kathy says.

  “It’s really hard on Mark,” Tara says. “I don’t know how he does it.”

  “Well, he’s got Holly to help him through it,” Kathy points out.

  “Yeah, she’s awesome,” Tara says.

  I notice Bud and Sue watching us from high in the stands. “We better get warmed up. Talk to you after the game?”

  Tara smiles. “Maybe we can catch up when I go deep in your corner.”

  “I’ll be ready,” I say.

  Tara nods and skates back to her end.

  Game on.

  –

  Amy’s in net for this one. Balmoral’s top two lines forecheck the hell out of us, and we spend most of the first period battling to get out of our end. Kathy takes a penalty for roughing, and early in the PK, Carla gets one for hooking. Brutal call. The Balmoral winger was clearly hanging on Carla’s stick.

  Bud sends Jennifer, Whitney and me out for the five on three. We get trapped in our end with no relief for over a minute. I block one of Tara’s shots with my ankle, but there’s no time to acknowledge the pain. Lungs burning, I finally manage to dump the puck down the ice and limp for the bench.

  Crystal’s mom is all over me, but I wave her off.

  “I’m fine,” I tell her.

  Dayna, Randi and one of the Rookies kill the rest of the two-man disadvantage, which gives us a big boost. Randi ices the puck just as Kathy gets out of the box, and Kathy dives in after it with two Blazer D-men on her tail. The Balmoral goalie beats Kathy to the puck but fans when she tries to clear it. Kathy poke checks and fires on the empty net.

  Scores.

  Balmoral retaliates with two unanswered goals, both of them Tara’s. On her second marker, Tara comes in hard at me, and I try to force her wide. She puts a move on me and gets a shot away, scoring low blocker.

  “She always was a sniper,” I tell Amy, tapping her pads.

  Amy clears the snow out of her crease and bangs the posts with her stick, already shutting the door on Tara’s goal.

  Balmoral scores a power play goal in the second, and Whitney responds with one of her own with seconds left, making the score 3–2.

  “At least the score’s close,” Dayna says while we’re making our way back to the dressing room.

  “The scouts are important, not the score,” Randi says. “They’re watching what you can do with the puck – and what you do when you don’t have the puck.”

  “Enough about the scouts,” I tell her. “Keep your head in the game.”

  The Blazer coach gives his third and fourth lines more playing time in the third, allowing us to generate some offence. Randi has one more great scoring opportunity, but the Balmoral goalie deflects her slapshot. The Blazers transition quickly to offence when the rebound pops past Carla, creating a 3 on 1 with Tara head manning the puck. Jennifer positions herself to prevent a pass, so Tara takes the puck in deep and slings it to her right winger, who’s breaking for the net.

  Amy reaches for the save, but there’s too much net.

  We go down 4–2.

  As we shake hands after the game, the Balmoral coach says to me, “Great shut down defence.”

  “Thanks,” I tell him.

  As I skate over to talk to Tara, I can’t wipe the grin off my face. The other girls who knew her from the Xtreme join us too. When the gate opens for the zamboni, we exchange hugs and clear the ice.

  Back in the dressing room, Bud’s round belly is bursting with pride. “You girls played a solid game – in all three zones. You tied them in shots in the third, with just one breakdown. No need to hang your heads.”

  “I hope we play as well against the Hounds tomorrow,” I say.

  “Don’t we all,” Bud says. “Get some shut-eye, and eat smart, or that big ice at Notre Dame will eat you up.”

  –

  The next morning when Amy hobbles into homeroom, I know we’re in trouble.

  “You pulled a groin on that last goal,” I say.

  She rolls her eyes. “How’d you guess?”

  “You won’t be playing tonight against the Hounds,” I say, more to myself than to her. “At least it’s not a league game.”

  “Yeah, it’s only a tournament with university scouts,” Amy says dryly. “Loads of them. Didn’t you see all the binders and clipboards yesterday?”

  On my way to second period, I run into Jodi in the stairwell. I see her at school nearly every day, but it’s like we’re two different people now.

  “Heard you had a good game last night,” Jodi says. “Congratulations.”

  “Thanks.” I step aside to let some students pass.

  “Lots of scouts there?” she asks.

  I nod.

  “Don’t let it get to you,” she says. “You’re going to play somewhere next year.”

  “What makes you so sure?” I ask.

  “Because you’re better than you think you are,” she says.

  Her compliment chokes me up a little. “So what about you? Do you still want to get into Education?”

  She shakes her head. “I’m applying for a music program in Toronto.”

  “Oh,” I reply, surprised.

  While she tells me about it, I remember what her mother said to me about the nature of her brain injury. The impulsivity. The inability to concentrate.

 
“Sounds like an awesome opportunity,” I tell her when she’s done.

  “Have you seen Evan lately?” she asks.

  “No.” I lie. I can hardly tell her I hide whenever I catch a glimpse of him downtown or at the mall or in Canadian Tire.

  “It took him a while to get over you,” she says. “But he seems happier now. Did you know we’re going out?”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  What if she changes her mind about him, just like she changed her mind about hockey and school and who knows how many other things?

  I suddenly realize the stairwell and the main foyer are vacant, except for us. “We’d better get to class.”

  She smiles. “God bless you, Jessie. I still pray for you.”

  As I watch her descend the stairs, I say a little prayer for her too.

  – Chapter Thirty-eight –

  “I hate this place,” Randi says, as my dad pulls up in front of the Duncan MacNeill Arena in Wilcox. “You know what it makes me think of?”

  “I’m afraid to ask,” Dad says, opening his door.

  “Pain,” Randi says. “Lots and lots of pain.”

  “Sore arms,” Kathy says.

  “Sore calves,” I say.

  “Do they take the Hounds in a little room before every game and show them how to slash people where it hurts most?” Randi speculates.

  “It’s called the dressing room,” I say.

  Dad opens the rear hatch and starts unloading our equipment. The frigid December air wafts over us.

  “Well, I’m mad, and I’m not taking it any more,” Kathy says. “If I go down with a slash to the box, I’m taking somebody with me, and it’s not going to be pretty.”

  Behind us, Dad clears his throat.

  “Sorry, Mr. McIntyre,” Kathy says. “I was forgetting myself.”

  “Just try not to get suspended,” I tell her. “Who’ll protect the Rooks if you’re watching from the stands?”

  “Yeah,” Dayna says.

  “No danger of anyone getting suspended if you all remain inside the vehicle,” Dad says.

  “Parker, move your ass,” Randi says. “No time like the present and all that.”

  “Pip. Pip,” Dayna says.

  Inside the arena the first people I see are Bud and the U of S coach. They’re standing at the top of the stairs, deep in conversation.