~Pucker face~ Charlie Conway

Chapter six: Remember?

Thanksgiving was as sad as can be. This year was all about finding my people, friends. Four months in, and I was all alone. It was a cycle that wouldn't stop. Sure, I could call some of the ducks my friends, but I couldn't act like it. Especially not with Charlie around.

Not being in hockey was awful too. I had lost all purpose. Sometimes I'd go in before school at 5 am to keep myself fresh. The Varsity team was still giving me dirty looks from a month prior. Winter Break was only 3 weeks away, and then I would fly back up to New York to spend Christmas with my family. It was something to look forward to, since I had nothing else to focus on.

Lucky for me, there was something new settling in. Obviously, nothing good.

On a random Tuesday morning, I woke up as usual. 6:00 am. Quickly throwing on a jacket, some running shoes and leggings, I started the day with a 3-mile run. Painful, but my fitness was declining. Today was different though. I had gotten a full night's rest, but was still exhausted.

Breakfast that morning was interesting to say the least. The cafeteria was unusually quiet, and nearly everyone seemed just as exhausted as I was. Weird. I heard a few loud sniffles here and there and then realized. Flu season. Just then my throat felt weirdly sore. Placebo? Maybe. The flu virus that had just arrived in me because I was surrounded by a bunch of sick kids? Probably.

I grabbed a paper bag and loaded a few food items into and then left. A school full of kids with fevers over 100 degrees. The teachers are going to love this. It was going to be only a matter of hours until the virus would hit me full throttle. Anything I needed to survive for the next week needed to be collected like now.

The nurse's office had a huge line for Tylenol, so I went and got my homework from my classes first. But alas, when I came back, the line was even longer. Stepping in line, I happened to be right behind Adam Banks.

"Banks." I whispered.

He turned and his eyes widened. He went to ignore me like every other guy under Charlie's control, but all I wanted was to talk for a second.

"Are you sick?" I asked

He nodded, and started talking back.

"I'm guessing you are. Look, what's going on with you, why didn't you come to practice all last week?"

I was surprised he asked that, because I'd assumed he would know. Adam was Charlie's sidekick and part of the little posse who worshiped their captain. But I guess the right information hadn't gotten out. I sort of swallowed my pride....ow....and began to explain.

"I thought Charlie would tell you? You're on his side all the time but I guess not. I quit. I couldn't deal with your group's constant harassment. I wasn't trying to steal any spots or throw the games. Did it ever occur to you guys that I came to Eden Hall for hockey? Not even knowing you guys would be here, not even knowing how large the team was. But please don't tell anyone. I could stand no interaction for a few weeks, even if I'm desperate to get back on the ice."

"Deal. I would shake your hand, but we're in a mini plague." He said with a nasally laugh. It wasn't that funny.

****************************

"No, I know mom. I won't touch anyone else for 24 hours and take the doses every 6 hours." I said, pacing around my dorm.

The last 48 hours had been absolute hell. I was burning up, sustaining a fever of at least 103. They had canceled classes, but teachers were still doling out packets of homework like they were presents. Surprise! Another math lesson. Too bad there wasn't a gift receipt.

I needed to get out and go do something. Being sick was a limit, so something away from others. Walking in the hallway, I bumped into someone. You already know who it had to be.

"Captain." I said shortly. He wanted me to call him that, I would. But, I would also do it with the least amount of personal respect possible. Meaning it was meant to mock.

He kept a stone cold face. I brushed past him and continued on my way out of the building. It was a crisp morning in Minnesota, the air was starting to get colder. Hockey season was inching closer. The first game scheduled was January 17th against a prep school from Rochester. My position in that game was still to be determined. I might not even have one at all.

I took a walk outside of campus. Delivered some letters, then stopped at a park. A frozen pond was in sight, some early season snow trimming the edges. Kids who looked to be about 10 or 11 were skating around on the thin ice, getting the most of the small area. In New York, everything was always so big. My team played in the big ice rink at the age of 7. Things were that serious.

Looking at these kids now, I felt a small twinge of envy. They looked so happy, smiles spread across every face when even the smallest of victories took place. It was clear that it didn't take much to please them. A simple life.

As much as I loved hockey, sometimes it was all I ever could think about. At some points in my life, the sport was all that was keeping me sane. It led to an attachment. Any loss was a permanent mark on me that was followed by days, weeks of shame. I could pretend that I wasn't struggling without it. I was. A crutch, it held me up.

The children looked so pure. Reaching for the stars and making dreams come true was still possible. I could only hope that every time they picked up those skates in their lives, they were happy. That it wasn't too much, or the sport hadn't killed their spirit.

After a few minutes, the realization came back that I was still very under the weather. Back to the dungeon of germs, homework, and Tylenol I went.
*****************
The week passed on by, and everyone started getting better. School was still canceled until the next Monday, but teachers were still keeping us busy. People were getting constant care packages with medicine because the school could no longer supply any. All out. I had drank an insane amount of Gatorade and dropped 5 pounds from not eating enough.

Friday night, my fever finally broke. I was sitting there in bed, sweating like crazy. Sleeping wasn't possible. As a solution, I took a cold shower in the middle of the night. To be quite frank, it didn't help much. Regardless, I wasn't going to bed.

The dorm building had a secret balcony that could be reached from the fire escape, so I decided to go up there to stargaze and pass some time. Surprisingly, another silhouette was already laying back and collecting constellations.

"Rough night?" I asked the stranger.

"Very." They said without moving.

"How so?"

"A loss."

A loss could mean anything, but I wouldn't prod. I lied down a few feet away, trying not to disturb them. After a while, they spoke again.

"I know who you are. Don't let me scare you."

The words hung in the air.

I turned to my side and looked at the person laying adjacent to me. In a gray shirt and plaid pajama pants, Charlie Conway.

He turned to his side and faced me. His eyes were gentle. The fire and ambition was gone. Alas, I couldn't look anymore. Turning onto my back, the answer was in the stars.

Loss. An eight-pointed star graced us both in the sky. By denotation, this meant from birth to death. A loss of life.