Coral laughed. We all laughed. I handed the sheet around to the other girls, noting names and colors.
Coral’s lack of color change was a piece of evidence, but not a conclusive one. People with poor circulation also did not affect the sheet. I had a lot more work to do.
“Thanks,” I said. “I gotta get back to my lunch.”
“What was that?” Jo asked.
“Science,” I said. “In action.”
Right after school, I dressed in my kneepads and shin guards and headed out to the hockey field. It was another fine spring day, with a gentle wind that tickled the hair on your arms. Outside was still a little cool in the shade, so I sat on the damp grass in the sun. It smelled green and fresh. While Mr. Pruitt talked to the team, I laid back on the grass, one leg folded for a good stretch, and then I folded and stretched the other one. Mr. Pruitt had the grace to say nothing about last week’s absence and Heather Jurgens, who had been filling in for me, returned to the bench for the first part of practice. I stood and bent to the side, first one way, then the other.
I was a hardcore hockey player. My position was right guard. Defense is a hard job. You have to be faster than the other girls to make sure no one can launch the ball into the goal. You also can’t be afraid to use your stick on your opponents if need be. This was a monster hunter proving ground, right here.
Coral approached as I lunged forward, stretching my calves. She was wearing a cautionary orange vest, very construction worker. She knelt. “Nice to see you here.”
“Looking forward to seeing you play.”
“I was captain of the team at my school in Portland.”
That figured. “What position?”
“Center.”
That figured too. Coral Petrova seemed to be at the center of everything. I moved into some squats while she pulled one of her arms to limber it up.
“I’m glad you’re coming to the party,” said Coral. “Although I was going to invite you, William asked me to ask you specially.”
I stopped stretching. “Why?”
“It’s awful, isn’t it? What is it with boys? When they like someone, why don’t they just come out and say so?”
“What?” I stood up. She smiled. “I—wait a second.”
“You made an excellent impression.”
I was going to have to nip this in the bud. “You know, I hate to disappoint your brother, but—”
“Right. I already told him about you and Vince, but he’s hopeful since you said yes to a date.”
I was losing control of this conversation. “Coral, there is no me and Vince. I mean, yes, there is a me and Vince, but as in a me and Vince are best buddies kind of thing, not a me and Vince are sitting in a tree kind of thing.”
“Good,” Coral smiled.
“Actually, Coral,” I said, my voice lowered, “there might be a Vince and Marty.”
“Oh sure. I’d never do anything to upset Marty. I’ll tell William about you and Vince. But William, well, he wants to give Vince a run for his money.”
“Look, I have to beat some girls over the head with this hockey stick. Let’s give my love life a rest.”
I wandered out to the turf and took my place, giving a thumbs up to Bev. Bev stood in front of the goal, so covered in limb guards that she looked like the Michelin Man. To my left Andrea Jones jutted her jaw in a serious crush-all-the-other-team kind of way.
The game began. Coral was an excellent center. She shuffled the ball down the field with inhuman speed. Talk about being entirely obvious about not being from around here. Some of the other girls were so smitten with her playing they could only admire and they stopped trying to take the ball from her. I dashed across the field to the border of my territory. She came at me, a little contest, personal. This wasn’t limbo. Here there was no Miss Nice Abby.
Our sticks scrabbled. She moved the ball past me. I scrabbled for the ball again. I routed her, eyed one of my offensive teammates, and shunted the ball in her direction.
I swear, Coral’s eyes flashed red when they looked at me. I smiled, my pearly whites gleaming like a bad actor on a toothpaste commercial.
Then she was back among the pack. Andrea watched her go. “She’s fast.”
“We can take her,” I said, my eyes on the herd.
Coral emerged victorious again and came our way, this time shunting towards Andrea. It was a mighty effort, and Andrea wasn’t a sloppy athlete. Andrea weaved and raked, but Coral moved and faked. She shot the ball toward the net. Bev blocked with her body, but couldn’t quite make the height. Goal for the other team.
Coral winked at me. I threw her a salute.
We lost the game, but it was a respectable loss. I took a stick across the shins in an action, a distraction from Coral’s drive. I would bruise up pretty nicely, but Andrea’s attempts at defense had ended with more damage than mine. She had to go to the nurse’s office and would probably have quite the shiner.
In the locker room, everyone was full of admiration for Coral and her exciting performance. I hung up my gear and peeled off my sweaty shirt. Bev plunked down on the wooden bench by my locker, her hair matted and tucked behind her ears.
“What do you think you were doing out there?”
“I was getting my stick handed to me,” I said. “I’ll do better tomorrow.”
“Yes, you will,” said Bev. “You and Andrea were terrible today.”
I grabbed my towel and shampoo. “We were all under siege. Coral’s fast, but you’re the one who let the goals
go
