Who Wouldn't Want To Be Me

"Cam? Cameron are you home?" I jumped, blinking as I tried to orientate myself.

"Yeah, yeah I'm here," I replied, sitting up properly and stretching my sore shoulders as I yawned.

"God girl, do you ever look like your dad," he shook his head as he turned the light on, making me groan and shut my eyes against the bright light.

"Thanks? I think?" I asked, finally cracking an eye open and looking up at my dad's brother.

"So what's with this whole short hair thing all of a sudden? When I saw you last year it was halfway down your back," he asked, sitting down in his recliner and putting his feet up.

"It was, until two weeks ago. I wouldn't stand a chance of getting on the team if they knew I was a girl Uncle Rob, you know that," I sighed, leaning back and putting my hands behind my head.

"Sometimes I wonder how your mother let Dan talk her into letting you play with the boys all these years," he shook his head with a chuckle. I managed a small smile, the thought of my dad a happy glimpse of memory before that dark feeling crept back.

"I don't know. I just wish he could have been here to see this; I heard from one of the reporters that I've got a good chance at first line center," I told him, and saw him smile.

"He sees it, don't worry Cam. You know your dad would never miss a game," he said, both of us quiet and sober.

"I miss him Uncle Rob," I managed to choke out, fiddling with the hem of my over-sized T-shirt. He sat on the couch beside me and pulled me into a hug, one that had been needed this past week and a half.

"Me too sweetheart; me too,"

"Shit, if he wouldn't have been so stubborn… I should've made him go to the hospital earlier," he shook his head, cutting me off.

"Cam, none of us could have known he had cancer, don't beat yourself up honey. You couldn't have known," he assured me as a few tears slipped down my cheeks. My dad was always one of those people who was 'too tough' to go to the doctor; he thought it was a waste of time and that whatever it was could be fixed at home somehow. Until he got cancer. In four months the man who had been an unbreakable wall of strength in my life withered away to a shadow of himself before the disease beat him. He had desperately needed a bone marrow treatment, but none of us had been a match. I'd cried for an entire month after realizing I was totally helpless; dad had always encouraged that I could always do whatever I set my mind to. Everything but save him.

"Shh, Cam you better go to bed honey," Uncle Rob gently brought me out of my reverie with a soft kiss on top of my head. "He's here with you, no matter where you go or what you do honey, always remember that. I bet he was grinning and boasting about you all practice long."

"Thanks Uncle Rob," a small grin teased at my lips as I pictured my dad doing just that; having to catch himself several times from admitting that I wasn't his son out there, that his daughter was skating circles around his friends sons.

"No problem honey; I should be home early tomorrow night; we'll eat real food and you'll have to let me know how you do," he said, standing up.

"Sounds good Uncle Rob," I nodded, doing the same and then going downstairs to my room. I changed into my pajamas and was out before my head hit the pillow.

"So do we know who made it yet?" I asked as I walked into the rink. All of my equipment was in the car, just in case I had made the final roster cuts.

"No; somebody said he's putting up a list and then having a quick kind of interview thing with everybody. Then whoever made it is going to practice and the rest of us can leave," Josh answered as we stood there. He was the only guy on the time I'd really talked to this past week, and while we weren't overly friendly we got along.

"That's fucking ridiculous," I muttered. Josh mutely nodded, and a few of the guys in the room were complaining about the exact same thing. After ten minutes of all of us standing or sitting around awkwardly the coach came out, posted his list and retreated right back to his office. It was as if he'd put a chunk of raw meat out in a pen of hungry wolves; everybody all but attacked it to see if their name was on the list.

"Fuck!" I swore, not seeing my name anywhere. What kind of bullshit was this? If all the staff thought I was good enough for first line how could I have not made it at all? I'd be happy as a fourth line center or being made a winger, anything.

"You're kidding? Bates you didn't make it?" Ian asked, mouth hanging open. He'd been a third line center last year; and he was definitely hoping for a spot higher on the roster this year. I'd bettered him almost every time; he only beat me when he could out muscle or out size me.

"No, my name's not on the damn list," I answered, feeling like punching something. I guess I was going to the gym after this stupid interview.

"Fuck, then how the hell am I still on the team?" he asked, sounding shocked. I shrugged, not knowing myself, but I guess it's not my decision.

"Bates: you're first," the assistant coach called out into the room, and I followed him to the Coach's office.

"Have a seat. You're probably wondering why you didn't make the team?" he asked, and I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Knowing my temper I'd spout off and say something stupid.

"You're too small. You don't get physical when you play; you don't hit, you don't muscle guys around, you aren't physical enough and you aren't a big enough presence. We want to focus on the physicality of the team this year, so you aren't it. Better luck next year," he said, and just like that he seemed to dismiss me.

"Excuse me? You're telling me that I'm not on the team because I'm not a lug? How do you expect to win games without a little bit of finesse? Isn't balance important?" I asked, and he raised an eyebrow at me.

"Not your decision Bates. Better luck next year," he repeated, and with that I stormed out of the office.

"What'd he…?" the question died in Josh's throat as he saw the look on my face.

"I'm not big enough. I didn't make the fucking team because I'm not trying to pin guys to the boards every time I go by them," I snarled, not wanting to take this out on the rest of the guys but unable to check all of my anger.

"So what? The rest of us are just idiot lugs out there on the ice?" Jacob demanded, getting angry immediately.

"Never once did I say that. All I'm pissed about is that he never said I wasn't good enough to play, and I'm still fucking out," I growled at him before grabbing my stuff and getting ready to head out the door.

"You should be taking my spot Cameron," I heard Ian's quiet voice, and stopped dead in my tracks.

"Why the hell would you say that Ian? You're a good hockey player, you're smart and you read the ice well," I said, turning to look at him.

"Nowhere near as good as you," he insisted quietly.

"Don't say that Ian. You're on the team for a reason, don't forget it. Kick some ass out there guys," I said before leaving. So basically I screwed my chances with the Junior A squad back home to get rejected for no reason here.

"Hey! Bates!" I turned to see Tarren coming towards me.

"What?"

"Look, you really should be on the team; the Coach is stupid to not have you on the team," I made to cut him off, but he stuck a hand out for me to be quiet. "I'm not saying do anything stupid, but my cousin works with Scranton Penguins; you know, like the AHL team?" he asked, and my eyes nearly bugged out.

"How the hell could I not know who they are?" I asked, and he chuckled after a moment.

"Sorry, forgot you're a Pens fan. But they're having open tryouts in like a week, you really should go. You never know what could happen or who'd see you play at something like that," he shrugged.

"Shit… thank you," I said, and he just shrugged it off.

"No big deal; I'll email you the information shit after practice; email the damn forms in ASAP so they'll let you try out," he told me, and I almost couldn't find the words for it.

"Thank you so much, that means a lot to me," he shrugged.

"It blows to see the best player not make the team. Maybe it's a sign Cameron; go kick some ass out there," he said before going back inside. I got into the car and sat down hard. Wilkes-barre/Scranton Penguins, that would be ridiculous. I finally snapped out of it and drove back to my uncle's place, going on my laptop.

According to Google Maps it would be 290 miles to drive there. Then it hit me that I really had no way to get to Wilkes-Barre to even try out.

"Shit," I groaned, wishing I'd thought of that earlier. Regardless I didn't intend to stay here and mooch off of my Uncle, so I started packing some stuff up. By the time he got home at five o'clock almost everything was put away.

"Hey Cameron; which line are you on?" he asked, and I grimaced, wishing it wasn't the first thing out of his mouth.

"None. I didn't make the team," I admitted, and he stopped what he was doing to look at me incredulously.

"Seriously? You didn't make the team?"

"Unfortunately I'm being dead serious," I nodded, finding myself enveloped in a bearhug.

"That's awful! I thought you had it in the bag?" he asked, and I shrugged. To be honest I thought I'd had it in the bag too.

"Coach said I wasn't physical enough on the ice or big enough. He wants to work on the team's physicality this year and doesn't see me as helping that," I huffed, and Uncle Rob sneered.

"That's bullshit; even a physical team has to have finesse. You could work on being physical if you had the chance,"

"Well it's whatever; it's over and done I guess," I shrugged, not wanting him to get upset; I'm pretty sure he wanted me to make the team as badly as I did. We made dinner, after I managed to get the topic turned around to his day rather than the disappointment of me not making the team.

"It was okay, but my boss wants me to move to the Pittsburgh branch now," he said, which shocked me. Uncle Rob had worked here since he graduated.

"What?"

"Yeah; it would be a move up, but I don't know," he shrugged, poking at his spaghetti. At thirty-four he'd spent his entire life after school devoted to this firm; he didn't even go out or anything anymore. It was sad; Uncle Rob's one of the coolest guys I know, but he doesn't do anything half-assed, so that means he cut out a lot of things from his life to do the best job he could.

"I don't know what to tell you Uncle Rob," I said, wondering if I should tell him about being able to try out for the Penguins.

"Is there any other hockey teams you can try out for Cam? If they're nearby you can just live with me and play,"

"Well, one of the guys who made the team got me the forms and stuff to try out for a team," I started, a little wary about this.

"What team? What league do they play?" he asked, interested now as he began to eat again.

"Wilkes-Barre/Scranton Penguins, in Pennsylvania; they're an AHL team," I answered, and he nearly choked on his food as his eyes widened.

"An AHL team? Cameron you can't pass up that kind of an opportunity!" he insisted.

"I don't know Uncle Rob; I can't just drive out to Wilkes-Barre, and how could I afford a place out there? I just don't know how it would work if I even made the team. All those guys have basically been drafted into the NHL, I can't compete with that," I told him, feeling disappointed even as I said it. When I emailed Alain Nasreddine, the assistant coach, with the forms I also mentioned that I didn't know for sure whether or not I could make the try-outs, and he'd replied that it was all right; if I didn't show, I didn't show, as simple as that.

"How far is Wilkes-Barre from Pittsburgh Cam? Maybe this was supposed to work out," he suggested, pulling his laptop out of his bag and starting to look it up.

"Two hundred and sixty-five miles," he sighed a moment later. That's like a four-hour drive without stopping.

"It's just not gonna work Uncle Rob," I shook my head.

"No, it might work. Jut a second…" he trailed off as he began typing again.

"Hmm… a friend of mine from University is living there right now with his wife, maybe you could board with them? I mean, we'd pay them rent or whatever but they would be great with that; he's a big fan of the Penguins," he insisted, but I still wasn't sure.

"Uncle Rob I can't just invite myself like that," I argued, but he shook his head.

"I'll email him, okay? I'll take some time off and we'll go down for the tryouts and then see how it goes, okay?"

"I don't know, if I somehow made the team and found out I couldn't play… I don't think I could handle it Uncle Rob," I admitted, feeling like a tool but knowing it was true.

"We'll find a way to make it work Cam; this is the opportunity of a lifetime for you," he assured me, and I managed a smile.

"Thanks Uncle Rob,"

"Anytime Cameron,"