The facade is made of large stones and the rest is covered with wood painted in a dark shade of grey. There is a small balcony on the top left, above the porch, supported by large lightly-painted columns. The many windows perfectly cut through the house shows us a bunch of empty rooms. The roof falling on each side of the house emphasizes its height. There is a small path leading to the three steps in front of the entrance, probably flower-lined during the summer. For now, the plot is completely defiled with white snow.
I force myself to accept the suitcase my father is giving me and stop staring at our house. Or home, should I say. I breathe in and pass the threshold of the front door after my brothers.
“What do you think?” asks my father behind me.
“It’s amazing!” I whisper, not believing my dad bought THIS house.
He smiles. He is happy. Maybe, just maybe, I’m starting to be too.
I return his smile and run upstairs to look at the rooms. I inspect the five of them and chose mine: the one through which I will see the sun come up each morning. It has three big windows, a big enough closet and the balcony I saw from outside. My brothers won’t want it and my dad will chose the back-view room. This room is definitely made for me. I slide open the big glass door and step outside, my coat still falling on my shoulders to protect me from the wind. Without waiting, I grab my cell phone, compose a number and bring it to my ear. I stick my free hand in my pocket and wait for the ringing to stop, staring at the rink full of hockey players a couple blocks away.
“So? How is it?” Tommy says without even saying hi.
I smile, looking at this perfect view, breathing in snowflakes falling from the cloudy sky.
“It’s perfect.” I say in under my breath. “The house is gigantic and beautiful; my room has three huge windows and a small balcony, and the view…” I stop talking, in lack of words to describe its beauty.
“I’m so glad! Send me pictures when you get the time, ok?”
I laugh.
“Ok.” I answer. “I can see the rink from here. And big trees. And a park. And other big and perfect houses.” I enumerate with a big smile.
“Wow… Well I’ll let you install your stuff. Don’t forget to send me some pictures!”
I nod, forgetting he can’t see me.
“Call me soon!”
“I will. Bye!” He says.
And just before I hang up, I hear him say “Miss you already” with his husky voice.
I sigh. Why can’t he be over here? I close my phone. “Me too…”
I glance at the rink for a few minutes and listen to the faded players’ screaming. All right. I just can’t hold it. I need to go see what it looks like. I rush down the stairs.
“I’M GOING OUTSIDE!” I shout before closing the door behind me with a worn out and discoloured bag threw on my shoulder and a hockey stick in my hand.
It takes me only five minutes to reach the rink and when I do, I notice it’s actually bigger than what it looks like. Actually bigger than every outside rink I’ve skated on. I quickly tie my skates and grab my hockey stick before getting on the ice. I skate around for a few minutes before a few guys my age come near me.
“You play hockey?” A blond guy asks, staring judgmentally at my equipment.
“No, I just carry a hockey stick around because it makes me look good.” I reply with a sarcastic tone.
“It’s just that girls don’t normally play hockey.” He says on the offensive.
“Well I must be a special girl, ‘cause I’ll beat you in five minutes.” I say, irritated.
All the guys laugh.
“Of course.” He says, rolling his eyes.
A guy with black hair and green eyes shows up. He must be two or three years older than me.
“Hey guys! We start a new game, you coming?”
All the guys rush back to the centre of the rink, the blond-haired, blue-eyed guy smirking provocatively while skating away.
The guy with black hair, smiles.
“Wanna play?” He asks.
“Sure.” I answer, staring at the blond-haired provocative guy with anger.
He thinks I’m not good enough? I’ll show him what kind of girl I am.
I throw my stick in the middle of the other ones and take it back once a guy separated all the hockey sticks in two bunches: the two teams. I look around to find out that the blond-haired guy is on the other team.
“Good.” I whisper.
“What’s good?” The guy with black hair says.
“Oh…never mind” I reply with a kind smile.
“Ok, I get it.” He laughs.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
“Bryan. You?”
“Rose” I say.
“Nice name.” He pats my shoulder and tells me to go offensive before skating away. Perfect. It’ll give me a chance to beat that blond guy.
The game starts. I chase the puck as fast as I can. Once I get it, I avoid the sticks, I feint every one, I skate as if my life depended of that game. But soon enough, that arrogant blond guy appears in front of me and stops me. I try to turn on his left with the puck, but it just slips away with him and he starts skating in back to my goal. Rats. I manage to do a perfect u-turn and chase him before the worst happens. But its too late, he just dodges the goalkeeper and the puck flies directly in the net. Perfect. Just perfect. I would scream at the goalkeeper for being that bad, but I keep myself of sudden burst of frustration. It's a new town, I need to have a better reputation than before. So I just speed up and find my way to the puck again, which Bryan has.
“PASS!” I shout.
He tosses the puck towards me and I catch it perfectly. I do a succession of movements I've done a million times before. Turn, feint, pass, receive, scream, curve, bypass and finally shoot in the top left corner.
“Yes.” I mum. One to one. The game goes on quickly. And quickly, the time passes and the goals add up. I did 3 and my enemy did 3 as well.
“Last goal! I need to go eat!” Bryan says with a laugh.
He gets closer to me and whispers:
“You better beat him, or he'll keep insulting your feminism for the rest of your life.” he recommends me, laughing.
I nod. Of course I'll win. That's what I do best. Focus. Eyes on the goal. Eyes on the prize.
With a determinative sigh, I accelerate and take the puck from a guy's hockey stick. Since I'm at the opposite side of the goal I need to reach, I do that series of movements again and finally get close to the goal line. Without watching or hearing the people around me, I lift my stick behind my shoulder and prepare my imminent shot. With a cry, I hit the puck as hard as I can.
But in the blink of an eye, the blond guy just appears in front of me, stops the trajectory of the puck with that little arrogant smile and skates away. Too chocked to follow him, I just stand there as the other team bursts in happy screaming and laughs. And he wins. Men, I could have won that one!
The blond-haired guy skates away with his friends after laughing at me with his arrogant (there is just no better words to describe him) smile.
“I guess boys really are better than you girls, hen?” He screams from the opposite corner of the rink.
“We'll see to that.” I mum under my breath. And I rush back to the bench where I left my stuff to change and run back to my new house.
Well this new town is going to be just awesome. Just awesome.
YOU ARE READING
Boys and... ME
Teen FictionI was practically born with boys. I have lived with four boys since I was 5 years old. My best friend is a boy. And I will probably die with a boy. “Probably” because I’m not the stereotypical, cliché girl you see on the street. I’m the girl who pla...
