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My brain didn’t even have enough time to process what was happening.
My whole world was suddenly upside down.
And then everything went black.
________
“Jetts! Get up, man! Get up!” My teammate, TJ Vonnie, yelled down at me while shaking the front of my jersey. “You okay?! Can you hear me?!”
I caught a foggy glimpse of the jumbotron behind his head. They were replaying what just happened.
There I was, number 17 with Jettersen spelled out in block letters on the back of my jersey, sprinting toward the net when their goalie absolutely trucked me. He slid-tackled me, taking out my skates, and I went airborne. My body did a full-out flip in the air, my feet coming over top of my head, and then I landed flat on my back with a thud.
I let out a groan and moved my limbs one by one.
The smack on the ice must’ve made me black out for a second or two. That had never happened to me before.
Colorado’s goalie was now looming over my face too. He lifted his mask. “You good, baud?!” he asked in a thick Canadian accent, pushing back his sweaty hair. The fucker was actually laughing at me. “I’m surry, baby Jetts! Didn’t mean for that to happen!”
That nickname, “baby Jetts,” indicated he played with my older brother. I ignored him and rolled over on my stomach, then slowly got on all fours. My vision was starting to swim in and out and all around. I squeezed my eyes shut tight for a beat, but I knew I had to get back to the bench. Casey would have my ass if I didn’t skate off the ice on my own. He was an old-school tough-ass who still thought only pussies made the game stop for them– ask any hockey guy born before 1990 and I’d bet any amount of money that they’d feel the same way. I once went down as a PeeWee and the ref stopped the game for me and my coach ran out on the ice to check if I was okay and help me off the ice– Casey teased that I was a “boy who cried wolf” for a full month… and sure, maybe that should’ve just rolled off my young shoulders, but I never forgot it. There’s something about craving an older brother’s approval that will make even the greatest of men alter their actions. Casey treated me great growing up, but I had a feeling that even if he had treated me shitty, I’d still be clamoring to be his best friend ‘til the end of time, and I’m not even sure why.
I could hear TJ chatting and laughing with the enemy goalie now. I wished Duke was here by my side instead of him. Duke would be throwing punches for me. TJ was too much of a lover, not a fighter.
At least it looked like their goalie would be getting a tripping penalty for his dumbass stunt. But that didn’t make up for the fact that I went from Detroit’s hero to zero in point two seconds. Now, instead of making highlight clips with my shiny new goal, there’d surely be replays of me getting absolutely brickwalled all over the internet.
I slowly hoisted myself up, and I felt sick to my stomach as I glided miserably back to the bench. Coach was full-on belly-laughing at me. The fucker had to cover his face because he was laughing so hard. To make matters worse, he pointed to the hallway, meaning I wasn’t being invited back to the bench, I was being sent back to the locker room to check if I had a concussion. By the way everything was still off-kilter, I knew I had one.
6. Josie - Friday morning
I juggled my iced coffee, laptop bag, backpack, and a crumpled folder containing the new fire drill rules as I quickly made my way down the school hallway toward my classroom in my platform converse shoes– as a short teacher, I needed high shoes to give me at least a little more authority with the kids. I was running late again today– as per usual– so my first hour kids were starting to gather around my classroom door.
“Ms. Petersen!” a couple girls from my third hour called out, running to catch up with me.
“Ms. Peee-Teeee!” a boy from my sixth hour yelled as he ran down the hallway. “Merry Christmas break!”
“Happy Christmas break to you too, Johnny! No running in the halls!” I shouted back as I briskly picked up my own pace.
He snickered and slowed to a slow-motion jog, which was still faster than my power-walk. I just shook my head, but I couldn’t completely bite back my grin.
The kids were all overjoyed because today’s bell at 2:30pm marked the start of their two-week long break, and I think we all needed it. Big time.
The girls were now flanking my sides. “I finally finished season five of Grey’s Anatomy andOh My God,Ms. Petersen, we need to talk. I pretty much bawled my eyes out last night,” Kendall said as she clutched a notebook to her chest.
“You coulda warned a girl!” Ciara said with wide eyes. “I was not prepared for that level of emotional trauma watching that! I was legit distraught.”
I bit my lip, trying to contain my laughter. “I couldn’t spoil it for you guys! We’ll talk before third hour, don’t you two need to get to class?”
They rolled their eyes at me. “We’ve been waiting foryou!Can you believe the symbolism? The name of the episode alone. OhmyGod. I’m going to cry just thinking about it. I feel like I lost my own friend. Weneedto talk!” Kendall pushed.
“Yes! Can’t you just write us passes?” Ciara tried.
It was my turn to roll my eyes, but of course I would write them a pass. I was only a disciplinarian when the situation actually called for it– and even then, I was pretty shitty at it because the kids usually made me laugh with their antics. Besides, wanting to discuss the symbolism in Shonda Rhimes’ writing was more important than them getting to social studies class— in my opinion anyways.
“You guys both have Mr. Richard for first hour, right?” I asked them.
“Yes!” they chorused excitedly, sensing they were gonna get passes. Mr. Richard was one of the younger teachers on staff, and one of my friends. I’d just text him they were gonna be late and send them back with passes so he wouldn’t mark them tardy. All us teachers were more relaxed the day before a break started so I doubted he would be too upset.
My first hour kids chorused their good mornings as I unlocked the door and let them all inside.
