Pucker Up

Chapter Four: Bobby

Bobby Jackson's P.O.V

~ ~ 

I couldn't stop smiling.

My dad and I were currently reviewing and comparing notes from today's tryout over take-out pizza. I couldn't believe this was my job. I actually got paid —good money— to eat pizza at my dining room table and go over hockey players and drills. Overall, it was a good tryout. I was surprised by how skilled some of the players were and how well they seemed to already work together. Every drill I threw at them was almost expertly executed to my vision.

"What about Spencer Emerson?" My dad asked.  He was last year's alternate goaltender.

"Solid goalie," I remarked, flipping through my pages to find his name. I had drawn a star next to his name, and even during the tryout, I knew he was going to be our starting goalie. "He saved more than half of the shots on net. We can work on bringing that average up, but he's definitely good enough to start."

My dad nodded, scribbling down what I said in his notebook. I liked that although my dad knew who the returning players were and clearly already had an idea of who he wanted on the team, he still let me have a say in it all. He valued my opinion and my expertise enough to hear what I had to say.

"The other guy can be the alternate," I added, looking for the other goalie's name: Gianni Cauzzo. "He let in one too many goals today and a bit too slow on the turnover. He'd make a move and be down on the ice for over four seconds."

"Oh no, four seconds," my mom mocked, interrupting us as she entered the room to refill our glasses. My dad kissed her cheek as she bent to pour iced tea into his cup.

"Four seconds is a lifetime while the clock is running and the puck is in our zone," I replied seriously, taking an angry bite of my crust. I hated when she made fun of me for getting upset over hockey. Hell, it took less than a second to score off a rebound from that close— we should be taking it even more seriously.

"She's absolutely right, honey." Dad avowed, agreeing with me. He squeezed Mom's side once more before ushering her away from the table. "We're working here and this is serious business. If we let these guys think that laziness and a sub-par performance will be tolerated, our season will be off to a rocky start. I'll meet you in the den soon, we're almost finished here."

I perked up at those words; I'd sure love a chance to lie down and clear my mind to think of new drills.

"Promise you'll give the hockey stuff a break when your sister gets here in a few weeks?" My mom pleaded, giving my Dad and me a knowing look. "And you, young lady, complain you never get to see your cousin and when he finally has time to fly over you're busy with training or coaching."

"He purposefully chooses to visit during my busiest weeks just to spite me." I shook my head, rolling my eyes. My best friend was also my biggest pain in the ass. "Don't trust his puppy dog face, Mom. He asks for my schedule just to see when he can be the biggest inconvenience."

"Could have sworn they were coming middle of September." My dad grumbled, looking for his calendar amidst his mess.

"And it's the end of August now, Daniel. I swear all that's up in both those heads of yours is hockey. You've completely lost track of the time and the days," she sighed, leaving the room exasperated.

As soon as my mom turned the corner out of the dining room, Dad went right back to business. "So Cauzzo is a bust in practice today and yet you're confident he's made the team as the alternate?"

"We only had two goalies trying out," I deadpanned, using the bottom end of the pen to scroll down my list. I wrote their names down in a separate section. I was compiling a concrete list of people we could already confirm made the team and sorting them by position. "Unless you want to do some last-minute recruiting, then they both make the team automatically. Thankfully, they don't totally suck or we'd be in trouble."