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Whispers of affirmation come from both ends. They make the coaches exchange a confused glance, as if the last thing they expected was for the Strikes and Bolts to come to a consensus against them.
I mirror Max’s stance of arms folded and serious demeanor and continue. “We’re all supposed to share the facilities and equipment, but the treatment isn’t equal.” I grind my teeth, remembering the incident with the buses again. “And that’s all we’ve been asking for, all along. That’s the fundamental cause of the problem.”
“I agree.” Max shrugs at the way his teammates stare at him.
“Are you out of it?” Boucher has the cojones to ask. “We can’t accept this out of principle.”
“And what principle is that?” Max scrunches up half of his face.
Oh, I love the way Max is baiting Boucher. And of course, the latter bites.
“Hockey is a man’s sport! See? Girls are easy to injure. They have no place on the ice unless it’s to look pretty.”
You could hear a pin drop.
Even his teammates cringe. No matter how many of them may agree deep down, they know better than to spew out backward sexist shit with their whole chest.
“Coach Green.” I get his attention with a lot more calm than I feel. “Do you understand what I’m trying to say now?”
Brit snorts. “Yeah, y’all are one second away from a discrimination lawsuit.”
“The what now?” one of Max’s friends splutters. “No one here is discriminating against anyone.”
“Oh yeah?” she spits back. “How would you like to travel on the ratty bus all the time? Or hear crap like this every time you walk these hallways?”
The dude throws his hands up. “See, Coach? It’s impossible to get along with them.”
“Not that we want to be your friends.” Chelsea flips them the bird.
The other one of Max’s friends pretty much growls as he says, “Maybe if you want to be treated respectfully, you should extend the same courtesy to others.”
“Extend your a?—”
“Enough!” I yell with all my lungs. Sucks that my voice squeaks at the end, but it serves the purpose. The commotion that had started dies down, and everyone’s attention turns to me again. Through gritted teeth, I say, “It is possible to get along. You just have to care enough to.”
“Yeah, right.”
“With these pigs? Never.”
“Oink, oink.”
I think it’s Boucher thinking he’s burning anyone by imitating a pig that makes me snap. My brain packs up its bags and jumps out the window. On autopilot, I stride alongside the massive table, eyes set solely on Max.
His eyebrows go up as I grab a fistful of his sweatshirt. “Uh, what are you doing?”
“Fighting fire with fire.”
No sooner does the word huh escapes his lips, than I pull him toward me into a very public kiss.
“Luz?” Max asks against my lips.
I pull away for a second, ignoring the resounding gasps. “Remember I said we needed to find the right time? Well, it’s now.”
From this close, I can see the specks of black in the blue of his eyes. He blinks them rapidly. “Well, I did say whenever and wherever.”
I forget about everyone else as he wraps those strong arms of his around my waist, bringing me closer for a proper kiss. There’s some noise around me, but at this point, I couldn’t say what it is.
Max is the one who finds the willpower to tear himself away. The worry in the back of my mind that he’d be annoyed is quashed when I see the glint in his eye.
