Thin Ice

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER THREE

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

CHAPTER THREE

            A hand reached down and heaved me up and off of the ground like I was just a bag of sneakers. I suppressed a cry of indignation, afraid of even making eye contact. “S’cuse me,” the guy murmured, brushing past me gently. My eyes widened when I realized that he wasn’t going to yell, or even make fun of me.

            Larry watched the scene with curious eyes and was about to say something, but another voice cut him off short. “Gerianna? What the hell are you doing here?”

            Cringing, I spun around to meet my father’s incredulous gaze. His voice wasn’t angry, just surprised. Still, I couldn’t help but shrink down ten levels by its intensity.

            “Actually,” he held up his hand and shook his head, “I don’t want to know.” He glanced over at the boy I’d ran into, who’s back was to me, and said, “Legace, put some pants on, would you?” Some of the boys in the room chuckled, and by the scuffling of clothes, I’d gathered that the boy had indeed put some clothes on.

            Mortified, I stared at my father with pleading eyes. They relayed an easy message: Get me out of here. “Follow me,” my father beckoned with his fingers. I complied, not leaving with as much as a second glance. Suddenly, his words replayed in my head.

            Legace, put some pants on, would you?

            That had been Noah Legace! It took a lot of my effort not to turn back around and get an autographed picture, but under the circumstances, that wouldn’t have been the best idea. I was embarrassed enough and didn’t need more reason to be.

            I followed my father with reluctant footsteps, glancing backwards every few seconds. “So, why are you here?” my father finally asked when we were alone.

            “You forgot,” I paused and dug his phone out of my pocket, “your phone at home.” I pressed it safely into his palm. His eyes widened, and he shoved it in his pocket quickly.

            “Thanks, Ger! I thought I lost it,” he smiled, satisfied that it was safe.

            We stood there, silent for a few moments. I broke the silence by saying, “Well, I better get going now…”

            “You should stay. Scotty’s been asking nonstop about you. Him and a few other boys are still practicing on the ice. You should go and cheer them on. Scotty’s been slacking lately. I’m not sure what’s up,” my father said, smacking me on the top of my head with the papers in his hands.

            That made Scotty’s words fly back to memory, about how he had to get back on the ice if he wanted to stay on the team. “He’s not doing well?”

            My father shook his head. “Nope, he’s not doing too well. Something’s on his mind and keeping his mind away from the game. I’m afraid he might be traded to the AHL instead of the NHL.”

            Poor Scotty. “I’ll see what I can find out.” I gave my dad two thumbs up and scurried through the opening into the ice rink. I hooked an abrupt right, sliding into one of the benches. They were empty now, and so with no one to chat with, I looked out at the ice and watched Scotty skate his heart away.

            I cupped my hands around my mouth and screamed, “Go Scotty!”

            His curly head looked up from the puck in front of him and he waved crazily in my direction. “What took you so long?” he hollered.