Rules and Roses (Hockey)

1

   She dropped a small stack of papers neatly placed in a folder on his desk. The older man looked up at her with a confused look on his face. He was in his late forties, greying hair. His office was cluttered. There were scattered papers spread over his desk. He had multiple locked cabinets, which most likely had all the players' personal information in them. He had a picture frame on the corner of a woman and a middle-aged boy. His wife and kid is what she guessed based off the ring on his left index finger. Next to it was a name plate that had Bill Simmons engraved in it. He had a few books on his shelves; they were about hockey. She didn't expect anything different, though.

   He raised an eyebrow to her and glanced down at her folder, as if giving her the right to speak.

   "I watched your team scrimmage. I've been a hockey fan for a while now. I analyze situations and come up with solutions in college. I have many pages of notes on your players: their strengths and weaknesses. I also sketched some plays you might could try at practice. I haven't given a copy of this to any other teams. I go to UAH and am truly a Hallows fan," she nervously said. She couldn't make eye contact with him. Intimidating as he was, he laughed. His hearty laugh lasted only a few seconds, while her nerves skyrocketed. She felt stupid for coming into his office, for thinking she was good enough to make a suggestion to a professional.

   "You took the time to write about each and every single one of my players?" He flipped through her pages, barely scanning through her notes.

   "Yes sir. I think it would be useful, especially after you guys lost tonight," she played with her fingers and watched him. She didn't mean it as an insult, but she assumed he took it as such.

   "Who let you come in here?" he asked, his eyes piercing her soul. He made her uncomfortable with the sternness in his voice.

   "He said his name was Mr. Lawson. Sir, I really do think-"

   "'It would be useful.' Yeah, I heard you the first time. I think I know how to coach my team. Thank you for using your personal time. Have a good night."

   He waved her away after interrupting her and went back to looking at a newspaper. She gave him a tight-lipped smile and closed the door behind her.

   She let out the breath of air she didn't even know she was holding. She had a feeling the coach would never read her synopsis. She didn't really like him, and she only spent two minutes around the man.

   The hallway was long. She could get lost if it weren't for signs all over the place. She made her way back to the main arena. Cold surrounded her, and a shiver went down her spine. She could hear laughter as she descended down a separate hall. They were different compared to the one she got from the coach. The sound of multiple versions of genuine happiness. Continuing her walk towards the exit, she got closer to the noise. A set of large doors were open on the right side. She moved her head to the side to get a look at the boys she had just evaluated. They had taken off their jerseys and were just left in their padded gear. Many were seated, some standing around. They all had smiles on their faces, despite losing their first trial game.

   She paused in the doorway. It was nice seeing people who were not tired. The college students she was around all day every day were always exhausted. Rarely would she hear a good laugh. Maybe in the dining hall from groups of friends here and there, but it had been a while.

   One boy turned his head her way. Their eyes met. She suddenly felt singled out and alone. A couple others noticed him staring at her. They looked at her, too. She had a wave of embarrassment overcome her. She had to force herself to take a step towards the exit doors.

   She pushed open the heavy glass doors and felt how cold it had gotten. She crossed her arms to try to keep herself warm on her way to her car. The night was still. Only the moonlight shining helped guide her. Since she was a woman, she trained herself to keep alert when walking at night. She hated the thought of "what if." Pepper spray was her best friend, apart from Madison. She checked the backseat to make sure no one was hiding and she got in. After locking her doors, she turned the heat all the way up. She got blasted in the face with cold air as her car was taking its time to warm up. She left the parking lot and took the interstate to head back.

   Her dorm room was on the third floor of her residence hall. She took the elevator by herself. She walked down the small hallway to the place she temporarily called home. The door unlocked with ease, and she made sure it locked behind her. Madison was laying on her bed.

   "Hey! How'd it go?" she asked, sitting up and turning her phone off.

   "They lost, but I did gather enough confidence to talk to their coach," she sat down her bag and pulled out her desk chair.

   "Oh good! I didn't think you had it in you."

   "That's great to know that my best friend doesn't think I'm that assertive to talk to a person," she pushed her lips together to make a disappointed face at her friend.

   "You know what I mean. Plus, you said it yourself to not expect you to do it," Madison reminded her.

   "Yeah, yeah. I know I did. It was so scary talking to him!"

   "You played with your fingers, didn't you?"

   "How did you know?!" she exclaimed. Her voice raised a bit higher due to the surprise of information she thought only herself knew about.

   "You're not the only one who notices things about people, you know? I can tell when you're stressed out about something or someone," Madison rolled her eyes.

   "Okay, we're done talking about me. How was your day?"

   They spent the rest of the evening talking and getting ready for a peaceful weekend.

   As she laid in her small twin-sized bed, she cursed herself for her conversation with the coach. She wished she had done better. Maybe she'd have a chance to really help them out. Hockey was her favorite sport; she watched it for years. Her critical and analytical mind had always been one to come up with different ways the players could line up to make a goal. She said her goodnight and stared at her ceiling. Before she knew it, she was asleep.