Page 105 of Like a Power Play
CAPTAIN CLARKE
Indeed I did.
YERSIE
Aw, hi Darcy. Glad to see you finally joined the chat.
Now can y’all shut the fuck up it’s 4am.
Different. Word class: Adjective. Definition: Not the same as another. Origin: My mother.
At least she acts like she invented the word. It’s what she says when she’s about to do something nobody else is going to like. I know from personal experience.
Anytime my mother said our day was going to be “different” as a kid, we always ended up at the doctor, dentist, or scrubbing the bathroom floor. So when she announces to the team that today we are going to do something “different”, every muscle in my body goes stiff. From the looks of it, the team is also well-rehearsed on her antics. Indie’s eyes grow wide, and Harlowe’s gaze flits around the rink, assessing. It’s only Bailey who seems stoked, a bright grin stretching across her face.
“Today, I want to see how well the trust-building retreat worked,” she continues, slipping her hand into her pocket. My eyes stay glued to that hand. She’s got something up her sleeve. But what? I don’t yet know. “Get in two lines, standing across from the person you roomed with.”
A flurry of green and white jerseys moves across the ice, getting into formation. I simply watch from the bench, keeping my eyes trained on Peyton. She slips into line, glancing aroundas if I’d be on the ice. When she finally spots me on the bench, she grins, gesturing for me to come.
I shake my head, but she just keeps waving enthusiastically. Fighting back a smile that I resent for existing, I flick my gaze to my mom, who is… frowning at me?
I tilt my head, shrugging. “What?”
She skates over to me, propping a hand on her hip. “Did Iimaginethat you went to the retreat?” she asks.
My brows draw together, and my eyes scan the rink, confused. “No?” I pause, just long enough to realize what she’s suggesting. Immediately, I shake my head. “Absolutely not,” I start, but my mom quickly cuts in.
“Get your ass in the rink, Darce,” she orders, crossing her arms now. I just keep shaking my head, like maybe if I do it fast enough, it’ll fall off and I could avoid this whole thing.
But my mom doesn’t budge.
“I only went on the ice once, for like, twenty minutes, and—”
“—And if you can do it with Clarke—” She tosses her head toward Peyton, who is staring at me with a crooked grin, “—you can do it with the rest of the team.”
A short, stressed scoff slips out of me. “I don’t even have skates—”
“Under you,” Mom interrupts, pointing under the bench.
Immediately, my expression drops. My hand digs underneath the seat, and I pull out a worn pair of skates.
Myworn pair of skates.
“I got the blades sharpened, and new laces, so you should be all set.”
I just stare at them. My eyes trace the scuffed toe, up to the worn tongue. They’re falling apart. Need to be replaced. In some depressing form of poetry, they retired when I did. And yet, my mom held onto them.
When my eyes meet hers, she’s trying not to look soft. She’s failing miserably, but she’s trying.
My heart stutters as I glance around. The only person who is looking at me is Peyton. Or maybe, when her eyes are on me, they’re simply the only ones that I feel.
I swallow, letting out a steadying breath. Then I untie the new waxed laces and slip off my shoes.
When I step back onto the ice, I expect my knees to shake like they did at Pineview. But they don’t. Instead, I glide right over to Peyton, positioning myself in line across from her, gripping a stick that my mom handed to me. As I pass by Caydence, I hear her mutter something under her breath, but I ignore it.
“Well, well, well. Look who decided to join us.” Peyton smirks.
I roll my eyes, glancing over at my mom who still has her hand in her pocket.What is she planning?
