Breaking the Mold

My gigantic black duffel containing my pads and such hung heavily from my right shoulder as I walked into the rink. The ice expanded in front of me, various black and white blurs doing laps on the ice surface. I walked down to the bench where a tall boy with short blond hair was fiddling with his skates.

“Uh, where can I go to get ready?”

“The rink’s closed to the public, sorry,” he said.

“I know. I’m here for camp.”

He didn’t look up. “Chara, Julien, somebody, come here,” he called.

An extremely tall man who I knew to be Zdeno Chara skated up, joined by Coach Julien.

“Oh, Acelynn, you’re here.” Julien let out a sigh of relief. “The locker room’s down that hall, third door on the left.”

Chara smiled. “I’ve heard a lot about you from both Peter Chiarelli and Coach Julien. If you go get changed, we’ll start some drills to see what you can do.”

“Okay, I’ll be out in a second.”

I walked down the hall, relishing the fact that I was on a pro team. My captain was the tallest player in NHL history. It was an Original Six franchise. I’d get to see my brothers regularly. It was the perfect arrangement.

I knocked on the door to the locker room, not really expecting an answer. I walked inside and looked around at our temporary room. Stalls lined the walls, stuff forced into some of them. I claimed an empty one near the very back and began shedding layers, digging in my bag for my hockey pants and the shirt I wore under my pads.

Without warning, the door opened and a boy with longer, curly blond hair walked in. I screamed and he covered his eyes.

“Holy shit! I’m sorry!”

“It’s okay, you can look. You just surprised me.” It was true; I was clothed, no matter how little I was wearing.

He looked, eyes widening as he took in my super-short cutoff sweatpants that were now shorts and tight black tank top. “Okay, what the hell are you doing here?”

I pulled my long, gold hair back in a ponytail. “I’m Acelynn.” I retrieved my hockey pants out of my bag and stepped into them. “Nice to meet you.”

“Hi, I’m, uh, Matt. But why are you getting changed into hockey gear?”

“Because, I’m the newest member of this team.” I found the elusive hockey shirt, which was baggy and torn with age. I threw it on over my head and grabbed the mass of padded plastic.

“Okay…” He shook his head and sat in a stall. “I’ll just… wait ‘till you’re… you know,” he trailed off.

“Whatever.” The jersey they provided me with fit perfectly over my various layers. I reached back into my bottomless hockey bag and pulled out my skates. Tossing the duffel into the stall, I left the locker room and walked to the bench in stocking feet.

I sat next to the blond boy from earlier. He seemed to still be having trouble with his skates.

“Need some help?”

“Um, yeah.”

I got down on one knee and pulled the long white string tight.

“Sorry I was a bit… rude earlier.” He smiled awkwardly. “Start over?”

“Sure. Hi, I’m Acelynn.” I offered my hand, pausing for a moment in the retying of his skates.

“Blake.” He shook it, looking down at his feet. “So what do I do to get these things to stay tight?”

“Okay. My brothers taught me to do this. Take the laces,” I instructed, taking one in each hand, “run them around the back, and bring them back to the front. Do a double knot, and make sure the laces don’t hang down and trip you up, ‘kay?”

“Thanks, Acelynn.”

“Call me Ace.”

He nodded and skated out as I took his place on the bench.