Stage Five

I fail at being a teenager.

The thought rolled through Joanna’s mind like a marquee as she laid down the pencil on her math homework. Why should she be caring what x + 7 equaled on a Friday night?

Because I have no life.

Correction - Joanna had a life. She was home alone at nine on a Friday night. Her two best friends had invited her to a party with them. Hell, if she’d actually gone, they could have left early and came back here. Taken advantage of an unlocked liquor cabinet and have a little fun. Live a little.

But Joanna had turned that down with a No thanks, I don’t feel so good text. She had yet to figure out why.

Joanna brushed her long, blonde hair back with her fingers as she glanced around her room. Ballerina pink walls stared accusingly back. Go out, they told her. And don’t come back until you’re very, very drunk.

She snorted and ran a hand over her face. She needed to get out, go somewhere. Anywhere but here. Get out before the walls told her that LSD was a good idea, too.

Peeking between cracked fingers, Joanna locked her gaze on a rumpled black Reebok warm-up piled at the foot of her bed. Sidney’s. Though no one was there, she blushed. Yeah, she’d slept with it on. For the past three nights. But that was just something teenage girls did - why be embarrassed?

+1 Teenager Points

Joanna leaned back in her chair, eyes still stuck on the jacket. “Keep it.” She remembered him saying that loud and clear, but hadn’t taken it seriously. It was way too big for her, anyways. The only place she could ever wear it was in the privacy of her own bedroom. And even then, it made her feel a tad…creepy.

So give it back. The thought had worked itself into her head easily enough. And the more she pondered it, the more she actually wanted to follow through. It wasn’t like she had anything better to do on a Friday night - Math homework could surely wait.

She was on her feet before she had made a definite decision. Like she was afraid if she thought too long, she’d decide against it and she’d be stuck watching Gossip Girl reruns by herself for the rest of the night. Not that there was anything wrong with gasping over what the Upper East Siders were up to - this just sounded better. A little more of a thrill.

Joanna shoved her feet into a battered pair of Uggs and grabbed Sidney’s jacket from her bed. She only paused once by her dresser, just long enough to mist a layer of her perfume on his jacket before she was out the door.

Math homework could definitely wait.

---

She was guessing he was home - a sliver of light poured through the tiny opening on his shades in his front window and she could have sworn she heard the faint drone of a television from somewhere inside. But not knowing whether or not he was home wasn’t what was keeping her from ringing the doorbell.

Too late to get cold feet now.

She stepped forward, pressing a shaky finger to the doorbell. She would have liked to think she was shaking because of the weather. To help make it more believable, she pulled her own jacket tighter around herself.

Heavy steps could be heard on the other side of the door - loud, confused, probably wondering who would be at their front door at nine thirty at night. An equally confused face appeared as the door swung back, distorting under further confusion as he looked at her. “Joanna?” Sidney asked.

Joanna released an awkward half-smile as she held up the jacket. “Surprisingly enough, no buyers on eBay,” she tried to joke.

To her relief, Sid smiled, taking the jacket and slinging it over his thick forearm. His other arm pressed against the doorway as he hung against it casually. “Shouldn’t you be out at a party with friends or something?” he asked, keeping his dark eyes on his jacket. Then his gaze flickered upward, making Joanna flinch. “Or whatever it is teens do these days.”

Suddenly, Joanna felt so young and Sidney felt old. Like he was about to tell her off for being out past curfew. And she felt so foolish for coming here; maybe she should have just stayed home and left the jacket where it was. But she didn’t let that leak into her expression. “Isn’t that a little stereotypical?” she countered, a smirk curving her lips.

He smiled, but her brows furrowed over his eyes, as if he were looking at her in disbelief. Like she were some new breed of teenager that actually followed the rules. At least to a certain degree.

And then he said something that almost blew her backward onto the pavement. “Do you want to come in?” he asked. Almost as if he pitied her for having nothing better to do on a Friday night.

Other than casually hanging out at Sidney Crosby’s own house? Count her in.

Joanna made sure her feet were firmly rooted to his front step as she answered, “Sure.”

Lest she blow herself away.

---

The place was a little cleaner than she remembered. Less empty Gatorade bottles. Not as much clutter. Hell, there was even a folded basket of laundry at the foot of the stairs. You’d think he’d had all the time in the world to stick around and tidy up. And then a thought dawned on her.

“Isn’t there a game,” she asked, tugging off her boots and tucking them against the wall, “or some other hockey-related thing you should be at?”

He laughed as he took her coat and hung it in a closet. Looks like she’d be staying a while. “Isn’t a guy allowed a night off?” he asked in return.

Joanna shrugged.

“The team’s up in Canada for a road trip,” he explained, closing the closet door and heading for the kitchen. Joanna didn’t know whether or not to follow him. “Did you want something to eat?” he asked, as if her stopping by were a casual happening.

“I’m fine,” she said, looking around at the bare walls in the foyer. The place definitely looked lived in, but not really lived in. The only clue to a life outside of hockey was a small framed picture of Sidney standing next to a blonde girl. She looked close to Joanna’s age.

So maybe he has a thing for younger girls, Joanna heard herself think. She quickly vanished the thought.

“That’s my sister.”

Joanna jumped, not realizing Sidney had come back from the kitchen. “Oh,” Joanna said quietly, taking one of the two glasses of ice water Sidney was holding. “Thanks.” She followed him into the living room.

This room was unlike the rest of the house. At least from what she’d seen. Huge, leather furniture was arranged around the biggest entertainment system she had ever seen. An arrangement of trophies sat gleaming on a shelf on the far wall. Above them hung a number of frames - some held pucks with numbers beneath them, others of him in uniform with various hockey players. In the middle was the picture of him hoisting a large, silver cup over his head. Their Stanley Cup victory. She remembered watching that live on TV with her dad.

She snapped back to the present as she heard Sidney take a seat on the large couch centered in front of the even larger TV. The couch could have comfortable fit six of her, but maybe three of Sidney. Timidly - like she suddenly realized what was going on - she took a spot at the other end and sipped her water. Call of Duty was paused on the large TV screen.

Sometimes, she thought it was a myth. That boys didn’t play video games as much as the media advertised. Yeah, she knew some guys from school that went home Friday after school and sat in front of the television with a controller in their hands until the butt crack of dawn. But those were teenage boys, not larger-than-life sports stars like Sidney.

“Call of Duty?” she questioned, her eyebrows raising at him.

“Yeah,” he dismissed, reaching forward and throwing her a controller. Was he being serious? “You want to play?”

She turned the controller over in her hands. “I’m more of a Halo kind of girl,” she joked.

“C’mon,” he coaxed, already setting up a new game.

And, really, that was all it took. A convincing “C’mon” on his part and she was in.