Shooting Star

Chapter 18

I. Was. A. Mess. Again.

I wiped at my eyes again, and then slipped my coat back on. I had a Starbucks date with Janelle.

Hopefully.

I took the bus to the location near her school and got off. She was waiting outside.

And she immediately knew something was wrong. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"What gave that away?" I sniffled.

"Your red eyes, blotchy cheeks, and the way you're standing," Janelle replied. "Let's grab mochas and talk."

I ordered a salted caramel mocha, and Janelle got a caramel macchiato.

When we found some armchairs we plunked ourselves down on them and I started to talk.

"It started, basically, at the New Year's Eve party," I admitted, "when I hung out with Kylie and Alyssa before the fireworks started. I hung out with these two guys, Brady and Nick, that apparently Kylie and Alyssa had met last year. When I impressed the guys, they kept wanting to know more. Except they live in Minnesota." I glanced at Janelle.

Janelle caught my glance. "Go on," she urged.

I took a deep breath. "Apparently Kylie and Alyssa really like Brady and Nick, and weren't all too pleased that I was talking to them. And 'bragging'-" I made quotations with my hands "even though I was just telling them. So after we got back, thus began the silent treatment, on and off the ice."

"Off the ice?" Janelle asked.

"At school," I replied.

"That makes sense," she said.

"So it's almost as if I can't be friends with them and you at the same time," I sighed.

Janelle sipped her drink thoughtfully. "I'm really sorry, Bree. But what happened yesterday or today that got you so ticked off and upset?"

I bit my lip. "Alyssa sent a nasty e-mail around to the entire team telling them not to talk to me or pass to me or help me when I need it, because I'm so 'PERFECT', and I out-shine all of them without even trying."

"How do you know this?" Janelle asked.

"Ruby told me," I whispered. "She said that she thinks Alyssa and Kylie are being ridiculous. Unfortunately, she's the only one that does. The rest of the team sided with Alyssa on this one. My life on the Admirals is over. I mean, how can I play if no one's gonna pass to me or make plays with me?"

Janelle was silent.

"J?" I asked quietly.

"I'm not sure," she replied.

"I'm really upset," I said. "I didn't do anything wrong. I don't even like Nick and Brady!"

"And how did this all start?" Janelle raised her eyebrows. "Because you supposedly 'flirted' with their crushes?"

"Apparently," I said tonelessly. Then I sipped my mocha.

As the hot liquid rushed down my throat, my phone buzzed, causing me to jump and spill the drink on me.

"SHIT," I said.

"I'll get napkins," Janelle said, setting her drink down and rushing off.

I stared at the giant stain of mocha on my navy pleated skirt. I hope mochas don't stain, I thought ruefully.

Janelle returned with a pile of napkins and I dabbed hopelessly at my skirt.

"It'll be fine," Janelle said. "I'm sure."

"You really think so?" I asked sadly.

"Yeah," Janelle said. "Mochas may have coffee in it, but I've spilt that thing on my white jeans and it came out just fine."

"What did you wash it in?" I asked curiously.

"Tide," Janelle said. "Just the regular cycle."

"Great," I smiled. "Thanks."

"No problem," Janelle replied. "And don't worry about Kylie and Alyssa, they'll come around eventually."

I nodded, hoping what she was telling me was true.

1 week later...

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I screamed at Alyssa in the changeroom.

Yeah, things were SO NOT GOING MY WAY.

Alyssa glared at me.

"I was freaking wide open by the side of the net, and you pass to Kylie, who's got all five players on her! Of course the puck is going to get intercepted!" I hollered.

Kylie stomped in. We were losing 4-0, which was unusual for us. "Way to play, Miller," she snapped.

I blinked. "What the hell? I didn't do ANYTHING. You guys hogged the puck from me all GAME!" I was pissed off now.

Coach Hiller came in. "What is going on out there? You guys are being slaughtered. Bree, I haven't seen you touch the puck all game!"

"They're pissed off at me and aren't passing to me," I replied, glaring at the floor.

"Well, we have a reason to be!" Alyssa yelled.

"What?" I shrieked. Did I hear that right? "YOU HAVE A REASON TO BE? What the hell? Just because your boyfriends happen to like me better than you doesn't mean that you have to treat me this way!" Tears were threatening to spill over, but I brushed them off. "Forget it. You guys can play the rest of this stupid game without me."

I grabbed my hockey bag and stomped to the door. Everyone else was in shock. I turned around and glared at my teammates. "I'm leaving. Have fun without me, ladies."

I pulled the door open and walked off.

"Miller," Coach pleaded. "Please come back. We need you."

"Tell it to the b!tches who won't give me the puck," I said bitterly. "I'm done here. I don't want to see them for as long as I live."

"What are you talking about? How long has this been going on?" Coach Hiller looked shocked.

"For about three weeks now," I replied angrily. "I'm so sick of it."

"Why didn't you say anything?" she gasped.

"Because I thought it would blow over. But I guess I was wrong." I met her gaze, my face still glaring.

"What did you mean, you don't want to see them for as long as you live?" Coach Hiller asked nervously.

"Have fun finding another right-wing good enough to take first string with them," I snapped. "I'm not coming back."

I hoisted my bag on my shoulder and stomped out, leaving Coach Hiller standing open-mouthed behind me.