Status: it be donee betches
Bruised
December 1992
December 1992
Bobby stepped off the ice after his first practice with the Cherry Hill Chiefs, the local Mini Mites hockey team. His pads and gear weren’t hand me downs like some of the other kids had. Bobby and his father had gone down to the local sporting goods store last Saturday and picked everything out and it was all brand new. He liked the way the shoulder pads made his five year old frame look much bigger than it was and what was even better was the jersey that covered it had his name on the back in large white letters, STEVENSON. He could hardly wait to pull off all his gear and join his father who had been watching him proudly the entire practice. Bobby leaned on the hardwood door leading to the locker room to open it and walked inside.
“You can’t change here, you’re a girl!” Bobby heard someone say. Indeed, there was a girl in the center of the locker room, surrounded by the rest of his teammates who were giving her nasty looks. He had known there was a girl playing on their team, he had seen her play, and she had been pretty good for her first day.
“But this is the only locker room,” the girl said in practically a whisper. Bobby couldn’t help but feel bad for the girl.
Bobby recognized the boy she was talking to as Jake Morgan. Jake was six years old and had already been playing on the Chiefs for a year; he was the best player and also the biggest.
“That’s because this is a boys’ sport. Girls shouldn’t be allowed. We don’t want you here. Looks like we’re gonna have to teach you a lesson to make sure you don’t come back next time,” Jake’s face took on an evil grin and he pounded his fist in his other hand as he inched towards the girl.
Bobby couldn’t take it. Without thinking, he threw himself in between Jake and the girl. “Leave her alone!” Bobby yelled, trying to sound intimidating as possible.
Everyone knew Bobby’s dad was an amateur boxer, and Bobby was no scrawny weakling, either. Not wanting to take the risk, Jake backed off and didn’t say another word. Bobby and the girl went to change and sat on the bench in the corner of the room.
“I can handle myself,” the girl whispered to Bobby through gritted teeth, as he untied his skates.
Bobby stopped and looked at her with disbelief. “He was gonna beat you up,” he said, as if she hadn’t known.
“I could’ve taken him,” the girl said without looking at Bobby. Bobby didn’t know what to say. They changed in silence. “I’m Aubree Hamilton,” she told him, “I know who you are, you’re Bobby Stevenson.”
“Yeah,” he replied, “my cousin’s name is Aubree but her friends just call her Bree, do your friends call you Bree too?”
Aubree was quiet for a while. “I don’t have any friends,” she admitted. Her cheeks turned pink and Bobby could tell she was ashamed. He felt bad for her.
“I’ll be your friend,” Bobby told her, “as long as I can call you Bree.”
“Okay!” Aubree said excitedly. She zipped up her hockey bag and struggled to sling it over her shoulder. “I’ll see you later Bobby!”
Later that week Coach Sullivan approached Bobby after practice.
“Hey Bobby, you’ve been doing a really fantastic job out on the ice,” Coach Sullivan said and gave him a hard pat on his helmet.
“Thanks coach.”
“Listen, Bobby. I know some of the boys are having…” he paused to find the right word, “issues with having Aubree on the team.”
“Are you kicking her out?” Bobby asked worriedly.
Coach Sullivan laughed, “No, no. Not at all. I just need to ask you to do something for me.”
“What is it?”
“Watch over Aubree, make sure nothing bad ever happens to her. I need you to always protect her, okay?”
“Sure, coach.”
Bobby stepped off the ice after his first practice with the Cherry Hill Chiefs, the local Mini Mites hockey team. His pads and gear weren’t hand me downs like some of the other kids had. Bobby and his father had gone down to the local sporting goods store last Saturday and picked everything out and it was all brand new. He liked the way the shoulder pads made his five year old frame look much bigger than it was and what was even better was the jersey that covered it had his name on the back in large white letters, STEVENSON. He could hardly wait to pull off all his gear and join his father who had been watching him proudly the entire practice. Bobby leaned on the hardwood door leading to the locker room to open it and walked inside.
“You can’t change here, you’re a girl!” Bobby heard someone say. Indeed, there was a girl in the center of the locker room, surrounded by the rest of his teammates who were giving her nasty looks. He had known there was a girl playing on their team, he had seen her play, and she had been pretty good for her first day.
“But this is the only locker room,” the girl said in practically a whisper. Bobby couldn’t help but feel bad for the girl.
Bobby recognized the boy she was talking to as Jake Morgan. Jake was six years old and had already been playing on the Chiefs for a year; he was the best player and also the biggest.
“That’s because this is a boys’ sport. Girls shouldn’t be allowed. We don’t want you here. Looks like we’re gonna have to teach you a lesson to make sure you don’t come back next time,” Jake’s face took on an evil grin and he pounded his fist in his other hand as he inched towards the girl.
Bobby couldn’t take it. Without thinking, he threw himself in between Jake and the girl. “Leave her alone!” Bobby yelled, trying to sound intimidating as possible.
Everyone knew Bobby’s dad was an amateur boxer, and Bobby was no scrawny weakling, either. Not wanting to take the risk, Jake backed off and didn’t say another word. Bobby and the girl went to change and sat on the bench in the corner of the room.
“I can handle myself,” the girl whispered to Bobby through gritted teeth, as he untied his skates.
Bobby stopped and looked at her with disbelief. “He was gonna beat you up,” he said, as if she hadn’t known.
“I could’ve taken him,” the girl said without looking at Bobby. Bobby didn’t know what to say. They changed in silence. “I’m Aubree Hamilton,” she told him, “I know who you are, you’re Bobby Stevenson.”
“Yeah,” he replied, “my cousin’s name is Aubree but her friends just call her Bree, do your friends call you Bree too?”
Aubree was quiet for a while. “I don’t have any friends,” she admitted. Her cheeks turned pink and Bobby could tell she was ashamed. He felt bad for her.
“I’ll be your friend,” Bobby told her, “as long as I can call you Bree.”
“Okay!” Aubree said excitedly. She zipped up her hockey bag and struggled to sling it over her shoulder. “I’ll see you later Bobby!”
Later that week Coach Sullivan approached Bobby after practice.
“Hey Bobby, you’ve been doing a really fantastic job out on the ice,” Coach Sullivan said and gave him a hard pat on his helmet.
“Thanks coach.”
“Listen, Bobby. I know some of the boys are having…” he paused to find the right word, “issues with having Aubree on the team.”
“Are you kicking her out?” Bobby asked worriedly.
Coach Sullivan laughed, “No, no. Not at all. I just need to ask you to do something for me.”
“What is it?”
“Watch over Aubree, make sure nothing bad ever happens to her. I need you to always protect her, okay?”
“Sure, coach.”