One

her jacket, Brooklyn bounces excitedly on the bleacher seat as her gaze tracks the hockey

m breath escapes into the frigid air of the rink. I roll my eye

o

rained on her

fifty

nine months. At this very moment, my fingers are almost itching to wrap themselves around my old fiberglass hockey stick. As I stare at the ice, my mind tumbles back, trying to recall a time wh

he space. The sights and sounds-even the smells, are t

which led me to a scholarship playing at a Division I college. But last year, I'd imploded und

. Old wounds, I'd assumed had scabbed over, have been made surprisingly fresh again. I

conversation. "No problem." Although, at the moment, it

drills before taking shots on goal. It's like a well-choreographed dance. One I miss. The ache in my

shut down and refused to think about hock

so m

ing in at

forget about the past and focus on watching the players move the puck up and down the ice. The game ends up being an exciting one, with the score tied or separated by just o

I lo

myself in the fast-paced action of the game. I don't have to think about the past or how I crumbled un

y love tha

she yells before add

surrounding us turn their heads as well, but she looks like she's havi

lown, Brooklyn looks at m

es," I

er wh

ing gaze sho

r with a roll of my eyes. At this po

is

iting for a reason as to w

better than to slap it all t

is

at was a crap call, ref. Open your eyes for a change!

before yelling, "Yeah, crap c

pping onto our seats and reachin

is

have to answer be

hti

ef!" Brooklyn

right one to make." I sip my diet cola and watch as one of our players skates over

n?" she asks as if she knows

who look even more strapping with all their paddin

y eyes i

a lightning quick offense and a solid, not to mention huge, defense. This is where the strapping comment comes into play. And the goalie was pretty talented as

you in?" The unexpected rush of adrenalin from tonight's win has Broo

ed going out after

ut she doesn't understand the reasons for i

obvious. "If I had told you, you wouldn

glad Brooklyn talked me into coming with her. I haven't had this much fun

her hands together as if in prayer. "Please, please, please," she begs

don't w

want to

on'

t, fine.

g

ause I usually end up regretting them. "But I'm not staying

in. He's sooo cute and sooo nice. I really like him, Cass." S

ost s

ne fo

da

orr

s w

t w

've been rooming together, she's been out with four different guys. Number fifty-five is forth in that line up. Needless to say, the othe

o

o the lobby to wait for Brooklyn's new flavor of the week. All I can say is th

ike sh

r room. The coach will usually talk to the team (or yell if they lose

e's hot and athletic. In true Brooklyn fashion, she runs and jumps into his outstretched arms before wrapping her legs around hi

rrific traffic accident. You don't necessarily want

turned and you're the

ward the deep male voice. Before I

o

fly out of my mouth. My heart pounds painfully into overdrive. The

esn't take me seriously. And right on cu

nd of suck as a