Who Wouldn't Want To Be Me

Here is Chapter 1! Please let me know what you think! (And if you have read this on FanFiction already, I apologize for the repetition!

"FASTER! SKATE HARDER! WHAT ARE YOU, A BUNCH OF GIRLS?" I grimaced and dug in my skates as the coach yelled at every single player on the ice. We knew try-outs were going to be a bitch, but nobody had expected it to be this bad. Our coach was like Satan in a short, overweight little man's body; complete with the whole purple in the face thing from yelling so much in the past two and a half hours.

"Fuck, how many damn lines is he gonna make us skate?" Josh grumbled, to which I shrugged.

"No idea," he nodded, turning and heading back. My knee was starting to hurt; the hard skating followed by so many sharp turns so repetitively was just killing it, and silently I wished I'd been intelligent enough to wear my knee brace to camp today.

"Bates! Get your ass in gear boy!" I dug in some more, the smirk playing at my lips. I'd hated cutting my hair short two weeks ago, but to play with the boys everybody has to think you're one, and having hair halfway down my back didn't help me out. I lucked out; having the name Cameron and being a whole five foot seven made me passable for a guy, if the coach didn't look too closely. I was small, but I made up for it with being fast, and that had saved me on other teams before.

"Yeah Bates, stop skating like a fucking girl," another guy sneered. Some of I'm sure suspected I was a girl, either that or I was 'gay' because I wouldn't change in their locker room and refused to make idiotic comments about one of the female student reporters here doing an article for the local newspaper on the team. I was used to not getting along overly well with my teammates; I mean, if they didn't suspect anything it was usually okay, but if they did life was hell.

"Good! Hit the showers and I'll let you know tomorrow," he said, turning on his heel without a second look to the thirty-one players sweating like mid-July out on the ice.

"Fuck my life," I groaned, feeling my knee protesting as I stepped off the ice and onto it.

"What?"

"Knee. Buggered it when I was playing high school hockey and basketball," I explained, and Josh nodded.

"My little sister did that two years ago; it's never been the same since,"

"Yeah, you're telling me," I agreed, not wanting to get too into detail. It was too easy to slip; better to have people suspect but not really know I wasn't who I was supposed to be than get too close and let it slip myself.

"Anyway, you did really good. That sick backhand shot should seriously get you on the team, you skated circles around all of us out there," he grinned.

"Shut the hell up, I did not,"

"Did too, don't even deny it. I wish I could skate like that," he sighed, making me shake my head.

"Well I wish I was six foot four and two hundred some pounds; I'll trade ya," I offered, to which he laughed.

"Sometimes it sucks ass; you're expected to be the big stupid lug out there. Some of the stuff guys say out there…" he shook his head. He was going to Brown University with a full scholarship; working on his Mechanical Engineering degree, and even with playing NCAA Hockey he had an 89% average. The guy's a genius.

"Yeah, don't worry; I hear the same shit,"

"Yeah, but people expect you to get mad; people expect me to not know what the hell they're talking about like I'm some kind of Neanderthal," he began walking towards the locker room, but I hung back. I didn't want to see every guy who just tried out for the team naked, no thank you.

"What? Aren't you gonna shower?" he asked, wrinkling up his nose.

"Yeah, I will. I think I'm gonna do a couple light laps and stretch out my knee really good first is all," I told him, gingerly stepping back out onto the ice. After two and a half extremely slow laps I grabbed a puck and began doing some stickhandling up and down the ice, and then sat down to try and relieve some of the pain in my knee.

"You're Cameron Bates, right?" the reporter asked as she walked up to me.

"Yeah, that's me," I nodded, making sure to keep my voice even and the slightly lower tone. Thank God for high school drama is all I have to say.

"Would it be all right if I asked you a few questions? I know you probably don't want your routine interrupted but you are one of the more talked about players coming into camp," she said.

"Sure, not a problem; ask away, as long as you don't mind me stretching while you do it," I shrugged, and she got out a little voice recorder and her tiny notepad, obviously having prepared some questions while she watched part of our practice.

"So, are you excited about trying out for Brown's very own Brown Bears?" she asked.

"Of course I am; it's a great hockey program with a lot of opportunity and talent and a great school, I'd love the chance to play here, take classes, and be part of the organization," I answered.

"Was there anything in particular that made you choose Brown?"

"The hockey was a big part of it; I wanted to play hockey somewhere, but I wanted to go to a place where my education would be good too. So it was kind of a balance,"

"So you weren't draft eligible for the NHL, as many players are around your age, but would you make the jump and put an education on the back burner given the chance?" she asked, and I almost laughed.

"Of course I would; I mean, the chance to play in the NHL would be my dream. There would always be the opportunity to take summer courses or go to school after retiring, seeing as you aren't exactly old when you retire from hockey," the reporter chuckled at this, nodding. "So I could still do the things I wanna do, and have more money to do it."

"All right; thank you very much; good luck on making the team," she said, and then proceeded to put her voice recorder away.

"To be honest? I think you've got it in the bag; all the staff I spoke to said you seemed like the top candidate for first line center," she told me, which surprised me.

"Really?"

"Yeah; you skate circles around everybody else and your puck-handling is unbelievable,"

"Well thanks, that's good to hear; I just might get some sleep tonight," I grinned. The reporter laughed, obviously not expecting this.

"So what, even big hockey players get nervous?" she asked.

"This one does; but I guess I'm not that big so… you could still be right," I shrugged, making her laugh again as I slowly stood up.

"You're pretty funny, I'll give you that," something about the way she said it made the hair on the back of my neck raise. She didn't honestly think…

"Thanks? Well, I better go hit the showers," I moved to go towards the locker room, but she put a hand on my arm.

"When you make the team do you think we could go to dinner and I could interview Brown's newest star player?" she asked, and I'm pretty sure my eyes just about bugged out of my head.

"L-look, you're really cool, but I'm not interested in anything right now; hockey and school is it for me," I said, and saw the look of disappointment. I must really, really look like my dad for something like this to happen. Yikes.

"You sure? It wouldn't have to be anything major or serious or anything," she tried again, but I shook my head.

"Sorry, but I need to focus right now; marks are important to me, and to try and balance hockey and school is going to be hard as hell. And there's… kind of someone back home," I fibbed, feeling like a bitch but needing to find an escape from what was a severely awkward situation for me. If she knew I was a chick, my life would be so much easier. But if the head writer for the University paper new I was a girl, so would everybody else, and there would be the end of my hockey career.

"O-oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to be pushy or anything… shit you probably think I'm some little puck after a hockey player don't you?" she asked, her voice suddenly quiet and timid as she looked mortified and embarrassed and ashamed all at once.

"No, no I don't think that at all," I assured her, putting my gloved hand on her arm for a moment. "Now if I was the fifth guy at practice you'd tried this on, then I might wonder…" I trailed off with a grin as she let out a tiny laugh.

"Thanks Cameron. I better let you go; I think I've made a big enough fool of myself as it is," she said, grabbing her over-sized purse.

"You didn't, don't worry. See you around," I nodded as she waved and made her escape, before walking back toward the locker room.

"What the fuck man? Did she seriously just try to put the moves on you?" Tyson asked, and I shrugged. As mortified as I was by the experience I did need to act like a guy around them. I could freak out and be grossed out later, in private.

"Possibly,"

"Fuck! You passed that up? What I wouldn't give for a chance with her, you know I've got a thing for red-heads man," Jacob declared, sounding angry with me.

"Well it just wouldn't work man; besides there's sort of someone back home," I replied, using my earlier excuse.

"Still! You're how far from home again?" he asked.

"I dunno; however far Manitoba is from Rhode Island," I answered. I don't know how far it is but it's like a four or five hour flight.

"So how is she gonna find out if you have a thing?"

"Fuck you man; I wouldn't do that, we've known each other forever!" I argued. Some guys are such pigs.

"Just saying: she'd never know the damn difference," he grumbled, obviously put out that I'd given up a chance with the girl he had a thing for.

"Whatever," I shook my head, starting to take my equipment off as basically everybody cleared out, wanting to go home and crash. I still had to fill out student loan forms and a shit load of other forms and papers before I could even think of sleeping.

After making sure to check everywhere that I was alone I locked the shower doors and showered as quickly as was humanely possible; drying off and changing in record time. By the time I hauled all of my equipment out to the car my uncle was letting me drive everybody else was long gone; coach included.

I got back to my uncle's to find the lights all out and the door still locked; he hadn't got home from work yet. He always worked ridiculous hours as a lawyer, and I was glad now that he'd insisted on getting me a key of my own so I could come and go as I pleased. I got right to work as soon as I could; basically finishing all the paperwork I had. It was so much more confusing after having taken a year off of school; I didn't remember all the shit that the teachers told us about what to do and what not to do.

After that I made myself a pot of KD and all but collapsed on the couch; devouring the macaroni in my bowl as I surfed through the channels on my uncle's huge flat screen TV. After finding SportsCentre I only managed to pay attention for about fifteen minutes before dozing off.