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  As soon as I turn it on, the text messages pour in.

  Where r u?

  See u later?

  Call me.

  Please call.

  I’m such a loser. How could I forget about him?

  I want to call him, here and now, but everyone will overhear, and Mom will ask a thousand questions. I send him a quick text, telling him I’ll call later and explain everything. Even as I’m texting, I’m wondering, how can I possibly explain?

  Maybe Kathy’s right, my little voice says. Maybe it was a mistake to start going out with Evan.

  Shut up.

  After we drop Gia off at her mom’s, Mom and Dad take Courtney into the living room for a “chat” while I go up to my room to touch base with Evan.

  I thought he’d be angry, but he’s totally understanding, which makes me feel even worse.

  “You don’t have to apologize,” he says. “Sometimes things don’t work out the way you’d like.”

  He doesn’t sound upset at all – a total change from his mood this morning. I quiz him about his game, trying to get a read on his relationship with his coach, but he ignores the questions, directing the conversation back to me.

  And I let him. I need to talk to somebody who’s not on my team.

  I pour out my heart, telling him about everything that’s lousy on our team until I hear Courtney moving around in her room.

  No fireworks. No tantrum. Amazing.

  “I’ve got to go,” I tell Evan. “I’ll talk to you later this week.”

  “See you soon,” he says.

  When I go next door, Courtney’s lying on her bed, listening to her iPod and flipping through a magazine.

  “So what’s the scoop?” I ask her.

  She stares at me.

  “You grounded or what?”

  She yanks one ear bud out. “For a week. No going out for two weekends.” She pauses for effect. “I’m sick of you trying to be the mom. You’re not, okay?” She flips a magazine page, tearing it. “This is my room, and I don’t want you in here. Leave me alone.”

  As I leave, I feel somewhat vindicated, even though I’d still like to throttle her.

  Maybe Mom and Dad aren’t losing their minds.

  –

  Which is why my mind is blown when Mom comes home the following week with a brand new cellphone for Courtney. I find out about it after supper when Mom takes it out to show Dad.

  Courtney’s upstairs in her room, supposedly doing homework.

  And I am stupefied.

  “You’re going to give her a cellphone.” I start stacking the dinner plates, and I’m not gentle about it.

  Mom takes the phone out of the box and powers it up. “It won’t actually be hers. We’re just giving it to her so we’ll know where she is.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  Dad empties the remains in the salad bowl onto his plate. “You don’t think it’s fair that she’s getting one right now when you had to wait so long.”

  “Don’t get me started,” I tell him.

  “Things are different now, Jessie,” Mom says. “We could have rough seas ahead with Courtney, and we have to hold her accountable for her actions.”

  “How are you going to manage that – when you don’t even make her do her chores?” I demand. “It’s her night to do dishes!”

  “She had too much homework,” Mom says. “She can do dishes for the next two nights.”

  I scrape the leftover mashed potatoes into a plastic container and snap on the lid. “She needs an ankle bracelet, not a phone.”

  “I’m sorry you feel that way, but you’re not the parent. Your mother and I discussed it for a long time,” Dad explains. “It wasn’t a hasty decision.”

  Mom tries to appease me. “We’ll know where she is. We won’t have to rely on one of her friend’s cellphones.”

  I correct her. “You’ll know where she says she is! She and her phone could be anywhere!”

  “Thanks for your input,” Dad says. “The subject is now closed.”

  And that’s that.

  They are losing their minds.

  – Chapter Eighteen –

  I survey the girls assembled in the dressing room on Tuesday night. There’re six of us in our final year of Midget – Carla, Kathy, Miranda, Jodi, Amy and me. For second years, there’s Jennifer, Crystal, Larissa and Whitney. The first years are Randi and the rest of the Rookies.

  We’re in our street clothes because there’s no practice, just an organizational meeting for our parents upstairs, followed by one-on-twos with our coaches.

  We’re all nervous and excited; a head coach has finally been found. And not a minute too soon. Our first league games are this weekend.

  One of the other key items on the agenda is choosing a team captain and three assistant captains. Sue says we’re voting on it later.

  Whitney is clearly campaigning. “Rookie party this weekend at my place,” she announces, “but don’t worry. We won’t go rough on you Rooks.”

  The Rookies exchange apprehensive glances.

  “This weekend?” I ask. “We’re playing a double-header, remember?”

  Whitney rolls her eyes. “So?”

  “Just when were you planning to have this party?” Kathy’s tone perfectly mimics mine.

  “Saturday night.”

  “But we play Sunday,” I say.

  “Not until two in the afternoon,” Whitney says. “You can all sleep over at my place. We’ve got plenty of room. It’ll be a blast.”

  “It’s lousy timing,” I say. “We should have the party another time.”

  “But next weekend is Thanksgiving, and then we go to North Battleford and Prince Albert. It’ll be November before we know it. How are we supposed to bond as a team?”

  “Good point,” Kathy says.

  “Okay,” I say, “but no booze. And no Bruins.”

  Annoyance flickers across Whitney’s face, but she doesn’t argue.

  I feel Kathy’s eyes on me. She’s tried to be nice to me at school, but I’m still mad at her. Let her pay for shooting her mouth off one too many times.

  The door opens. Sue and Mrs. Jordan, Crystal’s mom, walk in.

  “Evening, ladies,” Sue says, sitting on the bench between Carla and me.

  Mrs. Jordan closes the door and stands next to it.

  “How’d the meeting go?” Kathy asks.

  “Great.” Sue almost smiles. “Estevan Minor Hockey approved the most recent applicant for the head coaching position and hired him on the spot. He’ll be down in a few minutes.”

  “He?” Carla pounces on the pronoun.

  “Who is it?” Whitney demands.

  “Be patient,” Sue says. “I’m sure you’ll be happy with the choice. He has lots of coaching experience.”

  There’s a light knock on the door, and Mrs. Jordan opens it.

  Bud Prentice walks in.

  “Hey, Bud!” Kathy shouts. “What brings you to town?”

  Bud smiles broadly. “You’ll never believe it, Parker. I heard you girls were looking for a head coach, and I decided to apply.”

  My heart sinks. “But it’s too late, Bud. Minor Hockey already hired somebody.”

  “I know,” Bud says patiently. “They hired me.”

  “Bud – are you crazy?” I ask him. “You live in Regina!”

  Bud sits down beside Carla and rubs his round belly. “I’ve relocated. I’m staying with my daughter in North Portal until the end of April. Family stuff,” he explains.

  Half the girls look totally confused because they don’t know Bud. But the ones who do know him are thrilled.

  “That’s awesome, Bud,” Kathy says. “This means a lot to us.”

  “Don’t get sentimental on me, Parker,” Bud says.

  I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Finally. The hockey gods have thrown us a bone.

  Sue briefly outlines Bud’s coaching credentials – they are considerable – then Bud addresses us.

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p; “I’m not expecting you to win every game, but I do expect you to improve,” he says. “Let the points fall where they may. Let’s play with passion. Let’s play with confidence. Let’s support our teammates.”

  “Anything else you ladies want to say – or ask – before we meet with each of you individually?” Sue asks.

  Miranda raises her hand. “Is it true we’re doing a barbecue fundraiser?”

  Sue threads her fingers through her short blonde hair. “Looks like it. Amy’s parents have volunteered to donate the meat.” She fills us in on the rest of the details. “How does that sound?”

  “Sounds delicious,” Kathy says.

  “Anything to add, Jaclyn?” Bud asks Crystal’s mom.

  Mrs. Jordan smiles nervously. “Just be honest with your coaches, girls. Tell us who you want for leaders.”

  Bud stands up slowly. “Go straight home after you meet with us. No texting each other as you leave. No ‘I said, they said.’ That’s going to be very important as this team moves forward.” He backs towards the door. “Bear in mind – there’s no changing your vote tomorrow or the week after tomorrow. You have to live with the decisions you make, so make the best ones you can.”

  One by one Bud and Sue start taking players into the referees’ room down the hall to get input on who should be wearing letters. We’ll each have the opportunity to air our concerns, ask questions, and in the end, name some names.

  They start with the younger girls and work their way up to the senior players.

  “This is going to take forever,” Jennifer moans.

  But surprisingly, it doesn’t. After forty-five minutes, Mrs. Jordan comes to get Amy, and it’s just Kathy and me left in the dressing room. As far as we can tell, the girls have all lived up to their promise of leaving with their parents right after the meeting.

  “What do you think our chances are?” Kathy says.

  “I don’t know,” I tell her. “I don’t care if I wear a letter, as long as Whitney doesn’t have one.”

  “I was referring to the team,” Kathy says dryly.

  “I feel a lot better than I did when I came in here.” I slump back against the wall, feeling the cool brick through my T-shirt. “Bud’s going to be awesome.”

  “Yes, he is.”

  Silence.

  You need to help her understand about Evan, my little voice says. Now is the time. The longer you wait, the harder it will be.

  My pulse vibrates in my neck.

  I don’t say anything.

  And neither does she.

  When Mrs. Jordan comes to get her, I am left alone. I sit. I pace. I stand.

  “I’m not afraid,” I say to the door.

  The brick walls absorb my words. I pull out my phone, tempted to check for texts from the other girls or to go to Mainpage, where some will have posted stuff already.

  Mrs. Jordan’s at the door. I follow her down the hallway, which is much colder than the dressing room. I gratefully slip into the referees’ room and close the door behind me.

  Sue and Bud are waiting.

  “Okay, Jessie.” Sue turns over the clipboard she’s holding. “Fire away.”

  I gather they’re expecting me to be full of questions, but I have only two. “Is Jodi okay to play?”

  “Her GP and specialist say she is.” Sue stands up and sets her clipboard on the counter. “Jodi deserves a chance to play again.” She gives me a wry smile. “Anything else?”

  “Did you have to cut Amber? Would it have hurt the team to carry one more forward?”

  A ripple of emotion crosses Sue’s face. “It would have hurt Amber, Jessie.”

  “Why?”

  “She can’t play AAA,” Sue says. “She doesn’t have the physical skills or hockey sense. It wasn’t fair to ask her to give up so much of her time – hours and hours a week – to sit on the bench. And it’s not fair to put her on the ice when she isn’t as good as the other girls. Do you see?”

  “I guess so,” I say.

  “Notre Dame and Saskatoon and Weyburn are strong teams. To coin one of Kathy’s colourful phrases, we’ll probably get shit pumped for the first season. But even so, we need to give those younger girls an opportunity to improve, so they can be successful after you and Jodi and Kathy and Carla are gone.”

  “What do you think, Bud?” I ask.

  “I think any team can beat any team on any given day,” Bud says, rubbing his bald dome. “That’s why we play the games, all thirty-two of them.” He pauses and jams his cap back on his head. “Now, who would you like to have for a captain?”

  I take a deep breath. “Jodi.”

  –

  All the way home, I quiz Mom about the parents’ meeting, but her responses are maddeningly vague.

  “Mr. Johnstone tried to charm the hell out of everyone, didn’t he?” I ask.

  “He was persuasive,” Mom says.

  “Do you think he’s going to try to get on the bench with Sue and Bud?”

  “I never got that impression,” Mom says.

  “Why didn’t he just send Whitney to Notre Dame?” I take a drink of water before continuing. “He can afford it.”

  “I think you should stop worrying about Mr. Johnstone, and start thinking about how you’re going to balance this AAA commitment with your school work,” Mom says. “Bud’s going to run a tight ship.”

  “Speaking of Bud – how come he’s moving to North Portal?” I picture Zack, Bud’s grandson. “His daughter’s marriage didn’t break up, did it?”

  “Nothing like that,” Mom says. “His son-in-law’s going to university in Regina, finishing an education degree. He was living with Bud to save expenses, but Bud’s daughter was having a tough go of it back in North Portal, juggling her job and three little kids. She asked Bud to move in and help out for a while.”

  “Wow,” I say.

  “Sue said Bud’s been pretty lonely, since his wife passed away,” Mom explains. “This is a good move for everybody.”

  “Including us,” I say.

  “Including us,” Mom agrees. She doesn’t say anything else until we pull into our driveway. “When will you find out how the vote went?”

  “Bud said he’d call before ten.”

  My stomach starts rolling.

  The gloves will come off as soon as somebody gets, or doesn’t get, an A. Sue created a monster when she put one on Whitney last season. It totally went to her head. No surprise our coaches have decided to let us vote on the letters this year.

  “I wonder why your dad left the Prius parked on the street,” Mom says as we wait for the garage door to open.

  Then we see Courtney and Gia. They’ve got my road hockey net set up where the Prius is normally parked, and they’re shooting on it. I notice right away Courtney’s using Rambo, my favourite weapon on penalty kills. Chopping a stick in half diffuses a power play damn quick.

  “Hi Mrs. McIntyre! Hi Jessie!” Gia calls as Mom and I climb out of the Explorer. “How did the meeting go?”

  “I don’t know yet.” I come around the back of the vehicle, so I’m standing right beside Courtney. “What’s up with using my stick?”

  Courtney shrugs.

  “Those blades are expensive, and I buy them with my own money. If you’re going to use the shaft out here, at least put on a plastic blade.” I wrest Rambo from her hands. “Next time, ask permission.”

  “Sor-ry.” Courtney’s apology doesn’t sound sincere. “I didn’t know you’d be so touchy.”

  “Well, now you know.” I turn Rambo over and examine the blade.

  “Where did those energy drinks come from?” Mom asks, pointing at some cans sitting on the step.

  “I brought them, Mrs. McIntyre,” says Gia.

  “They’re loaded with sugar and caffeine.” Mom picks up one of the cans and examines the label. “Jessie and Courtney aren’t allowed to drink these.”

  How refreshing to be lumped with my baby sister.

  “My mom doesn’t mind me drinking them.
” Gia exchanges glances with Courtney. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you’d disapprove.”

  Mom looks at her watch. “It’s time for you to go home, Gia. It’s a school night.”

  “Sure, Mrs. McIntyre. See you tomorrow, Courtney.” Gia picks up her bike, which is lying on the front lawn, and glides into the twilight.

  “You know the rule,” Mom says to Courtney.

  “I know all the rules,” Courtney says.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing.” Courtney yawns and stretches. “I’m going to bed. Okay?”

  Mom points at the energy drinks.

  Courtney picks them up and tosses them in the recycling bin before climbing the stairs to go into the house.

  “Nighty night!” I call out to her. “Good luck sleeping after two of those!”

  Courtney gives me the finger before she disappears inside, but Mom doesn’t notice.

  You are so going to pay for that, I think.

  “Gia knew she was breaking one of your rules,” I tell Mom. “She’s a bad influence on Courtney.”

  “She was respectful enough,” Mom says. “Don’t be so hard on her.”

  The phone rings inside, and Mom and I look at one another.

  “Do you think you’ll be wearing a letter?” Mom asks.

  “Judging from the talk in the dressing room before the vote, I think Kathy and Jodi are for sure,” I tell her.

  The door opens. Courtney’s standing there holding the cordless phone. “It’s some old guy,” she says. “He wants to talk to Jessie.”

  I reach up and take it from her.

  It’s Bud.

  “Tell your mom to go down to JL’s and pick up a letter,” he says. “Make sure it’s a C.”

  “You’re kidding,” I say.

  “I’m not. Kathy, Carla, and Jodi get the A’s. I’ll email you a list of duties,” Bud says. “I hope you like meetings.”

  – Chapter Nineteen –

  Wednesday morning I pick up Amber earlier than usual because she’s got a student council meeting. When I get to the courtyard, Teneil’s at our table.

  Waiting.

  I try to be polite to Teneil. She’s been my friend a long time, even if she isn’t acting like one lately.