The Hockey Guy

Chapter Two

Let me tell you, being a vegetarian in a household of meat eaters can be extremely difficult. Every Thursday I made dinner for my family, every week I would have to endure the complaints erupting from my Polish father about the absence of sausage. I always proceeded to roll my eyes and make sure to put extra tofu in the dish just to spite him.

Right after school I proceed to prepare the tofu to make it taste as close to meat as one could. As the dull knife slices through the tofu my phone starts to blare a reminder at me. My small hands grasp the phone to read that I have a meeting with the new mom I plan on babysitting for.

I quickly finish my preparation and hop in the shower. As the hot water rolls down the tips of my blonde hair I begin to think. I've been in some sort of an emotional blockade the past couple of weeks. Nothing seems to excite me anymore. The same people, the same streets to drive around, the same schedule, the same routine, it's getting exhausting being able to drive around my town with my eyes closed.

I wrap my robe around my body and wipe the steam away from the mirror.

God my acne has taken hostage of my face.

My empty bottle of foundation doesn't make my emotional well-being any more positive. My frustration forces me to half cover the redness on my face. My eyes are pretty, maybe no one will notice. I struggle to pull up my leggings and slide a sweatshirt over my damp hair, to which I form into something resembling a bun. Like I said before, I could manage to get some guys under my belt if I tried, but I honestly can't be bothered anymore.

My Mazda, to which I have named Martha, whips out of my driveway and my journey to find this house begins. Their home is across town, which usually can be at most a ten minute drive. I admire the large houses with Khalid serenading me in the background. My car journeys through the part of town I have no recognition of. My GPS screams at me that Martha and I have arrived, but it was too dull out to even vaguely read the number on the houses. I spot the house that was my destination and tentatively ring the doorbell. The house was gorgeous, about the twice the size of mine. The Christmas decor gave the ambiance that there were indeed many children living inside.

A beautiful woman with a French accent answers the door. Stress glosses over her eyes. She presents me with a smile that could end war and invites me inside,

"Hello! Come in, come in, the children are just about to eat,"

The inside of the house was as expected, gorgeous.

She escorts me towards their kitchen the size of my room, where three children sit at the island. One girl and two boys. The mom pats the little, blonde boy's head,

"This is Timothy, he's four" she says this as he crinkles his nose and continues to play hockey with his action figures.

Her hand wonders to a boy with dark, curly hair, "Jackson, he loves babysitters," the smirk on his face confirms this statement. "I'm eight," I hear him say confidently,

"What?" I ask him teasingly, fully knowing what he said. He stares at me and stuffs white rice in his mouth.

"And I'm Emily," My eyes wander to the girl looking tired of her brothers, "I'm ten", I nod my head in recognition of her.

"I'm Lilly," my blue eyes scan the children, "It's lovely to meet you"

Before I had a chance to take a breath Jackson is pulling me towards the staircase leading to the basement. Their basement is much different than mine. It has actual walls and doesn't look like a dungeon. Toys are scattered around every inch of the carpeted floor. Jackson and Timothy start to fiddle around with their cars.