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I frown at the paper. “You feed us after practice?”
“It’s all part of the program, which I’ll explain after you’ve had a chance to eat with the team.”
“Right. Okay. Thanks.” I grab my hockey bag and go to the locker room.
Fern Harmer, the team captain, sets me up with an empty cubby. “Girl, you’re all the buzz. Where the heck did you come from, and why haven’t I seen you on the ice before?”
I strip out of my jersey and unfasten my pads. “We just moved to Pearl Lake a couple of months ago. Before that, I played pick-up at the old arena because it was closer to home.”
“Ah, that makes sense. Welcome to the team.” She squeezes my shoulder. “We’re gonna love having you here.”
“Thanks.”
Other players compliment me on my playing on their way to the showers. When I start stuffing my gear back in my hockey bag, Fern holds up a hand. “Just leave it in your cubby. They’ll have it all cleaned for tomorrow’s practice.”
I freeze. “Seriously?”
“Yup. This team functions the same way as college teams, so all your equipment stays at the rink.”
“Right. Okay.” This is all new information for me.
We hit the showers, and I luxuriate in the pounding of water on my back. Each stall has body wash, shampoo, and conditioner that smell like eucalyptus and green tea. My whole life we’ve used whatever was in the clearance section, and we water down the conditioner so it lasts longer.
I don’t want to get used to this if it’s only going to be temporary, but tonight I’ll indulge. After my shower, I slide my underwear up my legs quickly, then pull on my leggings. It’s not about modesty; it’s about hiding my ancient, once-white-now-gray underwear from my teammates. My sports bra is black, so it’s harder to see how ratty it is. Once I’m dressed and my hair is braided, I join Fern and the rest of the team in Iced Out. I hand over my coupon and follow my teammates to the buffet.
For a moment I’m unable to move as I take in the volume of food. There are two types of salad, roasted vegetables and potatoes, chicken breasts, a pasta bar, and an entire dessert bar. Some of the other girls are already picking up plates and filing down the line.
“I was overwhelmed at first too. It was hard to wrap my head around all the options when usually mine were limited to peanut butter and jam or mac and cheese.” Fern gives me a small, understanding smile and hands me a plate. “You can go up as many times as you want.”
The first round, I fill my plate with salad and vegetables and chicken. I’m desperate for protein, and the only chicken we can usually afford is frozen or sometimes thighs when they’re on sale. My second course is pasta with three different sauces. I go back for more salad. And I finish with an ice cream sundae and a piece of chocolate cake.
Guilt makes my gut churn—that I get to eat all this amazing food while my mom eats crockpot chili makes me feel shitty. But then come the takeout containers. We’re all allowed one, but only about half the team picks up a container.
“What happens to the rest of the food?” I ask Fern.
“It goes to the foodbank for tomorrow.”
I remember getting a fully packaged family meal a few times when I arrived early enough at the foodbank. Everything about this program is designed to give back, to help the community, to give opportunity to people who otherwise wouldn’t have it. I fill my container to take home.
I’m so full, my stomach hurts, but I’ll take the mild discomfort because tonight I won’t be hungry.
The team files out of the cafeteria, and I go to the offices to meet with Coach Waters and Coach Ballistic. They explain the ins and outs of the program, that it works on a sliding scale, like BJ said, and that for a good number of players, it’s fully subsidized. Coach Waters is Canadian, and they’ve modeled the program so it aligns with the way they grew up, including their healthcare. I don’t know much about how Canada works, just that it’s cold in the winter and they love hockey and maple syrup. Evidently they have good insurance too.
“I don’t know if I’ll be able to make all the practices with my work schedule.”
“Most of our players have summer jobs at local shops. Management is always good about working around practices and games. And Tracey Lynn at Boones has always been more than accommodating,” Coach Waters says.
I bite the inside of my cheek and decide to be honest. “I need to maintain my hours at Boones so I can afford to pay for college classes.” I’ll also have to figure out how to keep up with my online class this summer and all the assignments.
Alex nods, like he understands. “Where are you heading in the fall?”
“I take online courses, part-time so I can work.”
“Can I ask what kind of grades you get?”
“Mostly Bs. I work hard to keep my average up.” I fight not to bite my nails.
“A lot of our players are on scholarship. They play for the school team during the year and for us in the summer.”
