Determination

I looked at the new emails. One from my best friend Allie Trimm, another from Michael Harrison, one a practice reminder for tomorrow, as if I could forget! But the newest was from some address penguinsGM@pittsburghpenguins.com
 
Very hesitantly, I opened the email.

Dear Miss Wilson,
My name is Ray Shero, I am the General Manager of the Pittsburgh Penguins, the NHL hockey team in Pittsburgh Pennslyvania. It has been brought to my attention that you have an overwhelmingly brilliant hockey talent. Myself and the coach of the Pittsburgh Penguins, Dan Bylsma, would like to meet with you and your own trainer Mr. Kevin Harrison in Newark, New Jersey tomorrow. We would like to possibly add you to out roster with players such as Sidney Crosby, Evgeni Malkin and James Neal, who your trainer coached in the past. You do not have to attend if you would not like to take us up on the offer. Just please send us a declining email. We are aware that you are a female, and there has never been a female in the National Hockey League, but after some legal talks, we have found that it is permitted to have females in the National Hockey League, but no one really thought to add a female on their roster.
We will happily welcome parents to this meeting, but please try to keep close friends out of it as much as possible. I understand you may want a parent or guardian with you for support, but we encourage them to not come in to the meeting room.
So Miss Wilson, are you determined?
Sincerely, Ray Shero and the Pittsburgh Penguins Organization

I screamed at the top of my lungs, earning a shut the hell up March from my mother. I threw the laptop off my lap, and screamed again. "Mom! I got an email from the fucking National Hockey League!"

"Didn't we have a conversation about all the swear words, March?" She muttered. Did she not hear me or something?

I called my Dad. "Dad! Dad! I have to tell you something!" Happy and excited tears streamed down my cheeks. Not waiting for a reply, I screamed, "I got a fucking email from Ray Shero! Can you believe this? He wants to meet with me and Coach Harrison tomorrow is Newark! Oh my God!"

Dad was quiet for a moment before yelling, "Seriously March? Because if this is a joke-"

"It's not!" I yelled. "I really did get an email from the National Hockey League!!!"

He screamed, "Read me the email right now! Did you respond saying we will be at the meeting? I have to call Kevin (Coach Harrison)! Does he know?"

I heard him dial a number on his work phone. I read him the email, and forwarded it to him and Coach Harrison, and what the heck, Michael Harrison too!

I hung up and replied, my hands shaking,

Dear Mr. Shero,
Thank you so much for the huge honor! I have yet to contact Coach Harrison, but I'm sure he will happily accept the invite! I will most certainly be there with my father, Phillip Wilson. He will do whatever is necessary. Thank you so much Mr. Shero! I'm so excited! Thanks again! -March Wilson

I forwarded my reply email to my dad and Coach Harrison.

Coach Harrison immediatly called my house, "Holy shit March Wilson! What did I tell you?"

"You're right!" I screamed though my excited happy tears. "Thank you so much Coach Harrison!"

"For what?"

I laughed, "Really? I might be able to make it to the National Hockey League! You coached me to be the very best March Wilson I could possibly be! I can't even believe this!"

"How about I meet you at the meeting in Newark? Be prepared, well-spoken, professional, but have a personality too. Be funny and sweet. Charming. But not too charming."

"Okay. See you there Coach Harrison!" I slammed the phone down on the hook and snapped at my mom, "The least you could do is seem a little bit excited for me! I might be about to make it big in the fucking National Hockey League! I don't know why you'll never fucking care! This is what I've been dreaming about my whole fucking life! There was no fucking way I could get here before! Because I am just a fucking girl out of fucking New Jersey! You don't give a fuck about my fucking hockey career! Act less fucking excited!"

She looked at me with blank brown eyes, "A hockey career is a fucking bad job!" She hissed through her teeth. "You have so many other talents, why not pursue them? Why is hockey such a big fucking deal."

"Damnit! You'll just never fucking get it will you? Hockey is my fucking everything!"

She said, "I'm not going to stop you, it's just a bad job. An awful career."

I stormed off to go reread the email, and watch my old tapes.

I can't take her fucking attitude anymore.