High School Hockey Boys

13

I'd come to the conclusion a while ago that Saturdays, were boring. For me, anyway. Everyone was always busy, and now I had morning sickness to deal with. Which meant I was stuck at home basically all day. Mom was at work, the girls were either doing homework, out with their families, or with other friends. Sometimes having only four friends wasn't the greatest. I groaned in boredom as another commercial played on the TV.  I snatched the remote off the coffee table and lazily flipped through the channels. As usual, there was nothing on. What happened to Saturday morning cartoons? Or good TV?

In the end I just decided to turn the thing off and look for something else to do to occupy my time. I started in the kitchen. My stomach seemed to have settled for the moment so maybe I'd be able to eat breakfast. I looked through the cupboards and dug around in the fridge but nothing looked appealing. Moving along then. I trudged up the stairs, socks muffling my steps and a blanket wrapped around my shoulders. I pushed my bedroom door open and stood there, slowly moving my eyes around the room. It was relatively clean, but my desk was a heap of papers and there were some clothes on the floor. I shrugged and stepped further into the room. Guess I know what I'll be doing for the next little while.

I found my speaker and plugged it in, then hooked my phone up to it. I chose a suggested playlist of music I didn't know in hopes that it wouldn't distract me. I started with the floor. I pulled my laundry hamper out of my closet and shoved clothes into it, not really caring if they were actually dirty. It got them out of the way. I collected the few books lying around and tossed them onto the bed; I'd find a home for them later.

I pulled out my desk chair and sat down. With a short sigh I got to work on the ream of paper sitting in front of me. Slowly I picked through the pile, studying each sheet before tossing it in the 'keep' or 'garbage' pile. Most of it was school papers that would be returned to my binders later. Once I could see the white-painted wood of my desk top I reorganized the few trinkets I kept on it before moving on to the drawers. I was almost one hundred percent sure that most of what I dug out needed to go in the trash. In the six years I'd owned the piece of furniture I'd never sorted through the drawers.

I reached as far as my hands could go into the top drawer and pulled out everything I could grab. I took my time going through the forgotten contents of my desk. A fond smile found its way onto my face as I dug out old pictures I'd drawn when I was younger or that had been drawn for me by kids I used to babysit. As I pulled out the contents of the bottom drawer the first thing I laid eyes on was the letter from James. I paused before moving it aside and going back to sorting. 

A chuckle suddenly bubbled out of my chest when I noticed an old photo album sitting amidst all the old junk. It was one of those small pink ones covered in flowers meant for little girls. I picked it up and sat back in my seat, then opened the front cover. It gave that crackling sound that old and unused books made. I smiled at the first two pictures. They were of the girls and I on our first day of second grade. Ava looked as well-kept as always with her dark hair twisted into braids. Sophia was flashing a wide toothless smile. Harper was standing next to me in a loud orange shirt; I had a feeling it had been burned during a bonfire a few years ago. I was grinning shyly at the camera, and beside me Delaney and Kennedy were making silly faces, arms slung around each other. It had been so much simpler back then. When it was just the six of us and the world didn't matter. Flash forward nine years and it all had been shot to hell. And for what, a boy? A stupid game at a party? No.

I pushed away from the desk and shot up. I changed into nicer clothes quickly and unplugged my speaker before running down the stairs and sliding into my shoes. I tossed a jacket on over my sweater, shoved my wallet and keys into my pockets before throwing the front door open and locking it behind me. Kennedy's house wasn't too far away and I set off in its direction at a brisk pace. She may not even by home, but if she isn't I'd tell her parents to pass on my message for me. I crossed the street leading to her house without looking and was nearly hit by a car. I was so focused on what I was doing that I barely even noticed. Once I was standing on Kennedy's doorstep I knocked loudly and waited for someone to open the door. After a few minutes I knocked again with the side of my fist.