Determination

August 7th
March’s POV
 
I know I had worked myself up for nothing, once again. I had decided to drive by myself for this meeting, and training camp starts on August 15th. Extra early, apparently (according to James) a lot earlier than most years. And (also according to James) the first few days are fun but then it’s just hardcore practice.
 
Nerves were building up in my stomach again. I know I have James Neal, Sidney Crosby and Marc Andre Fleury behind me. I know I do. I know I have support from the others in the locker room that first time too, but those are the three I know are behind me forever. Seriously, they’ve been texting me since I left Pittsburgh earlier. I seriously need to get myself a place out here soon. I can’t just make a six hour drive every two days.
 
What if my other team mates that I haven’t met yet don’t like me? Evgeni Malkin seemed to have a big problem with me, even though Sid claimed it was just a bad day for him. I’m not sure Sidney’s right on that one. He seemed to really hate me and I don’t know why. But seriously, what if Evgeni is bad mouthing me to all the team mates I haven’t even met yet? I know it’s really low for me to think that about him already, but hey, that’s what I got from my first impression.
 
I closed my eyes and gripped the steering wheel, my GPS spitting a command at me. I’m in the home stretch of this too long drive.
 
But of course, just as I thought I’d be able to cruise through the rest of this drive with no problems, traffic started piling up. The cars were not moving. A couple people had opened windows and started talking to strangers in other cars. I rolled down the windows and breathed in the warm fresh summer air. As much as I love the cold, because cold means hockey, but these last summer days are great too. Warm DOES mean playoffs, too!
 
I reached into my purse, and called someone I knew would be willing to set my fears to rest. He picked up on the first ring. “March?”
 
“Yeah. Hey Sidney.”
 
“What’s up? It’s great to hear from you again!”
 
I sighed, “Yeah same. And I remember you saying something about an upcoming birthday! That’s today, right?”
 
“Yeah! It’s great that you remembered.”
 
I ran a hand through my usually curly (but I decided to straighten it today. I don’t know why. Why not?) Brunette hair that was in a pony tail. “No one else gave you a call Sidney? Is everyone really forgetting the big NHL star’s birthday?”
 
He laughed, “I think there’s probably something waiting for me at that big meeting later on. So, you nervous?”
 
I nodded, after remembering he couldn’t see me. “Uh yeah. I don’t think the others will like me Sidney. I don’t know why you and all the others actually like me.” I admitted.
 
He laughed again, “You’re kidding right? How could we NOT? You’re funny, you have a great personality, you’re nice, and not only all those, but you’re NEW. James is going to be so glad you’re here! They’re all going to play tricks on you, but I don’t think they’ll lay off James either. But you’re great. Really.”
 
Being called funny, nice and great by the face of the NHL really made my stomach turn. Not in nerves, but just happiness. Sidney Crosby, the captain of the Pittsburgh Penguins called me great? What’s wrong with the world is what it makes me wonder. “You have no idea how much that means to me.” I told Sidney honestly. “The captain of the Penguins, just wow. Thanks! You’re the amazing one, not me! I don’t know why you find me all those things, I’m just,” I found myself lost for words and I waited to let him talk.
 
Sidney said seriously, “March, you really have to banish all these thoughts from your head. You’re the future captain of the Pittsburgh Penguins. It’s amazing that I’m talking to the future captain.”
 
That really brought a smile to my face, and actually happy tears to my eyes, “Shut up Sid, we both know that that’s not anywhere near being true.” Sidney Crosby was really saying these things to me? There’s no way this is real life! And did I really just tell Sidney Crosby to shut up? There's gotta be something wrong with me.
 
I think I might have accidentally told Sidney what I was thinking because he was laughing and his reply was a giggle and, “It’s real life March Wilson. Nothing's wrong with you! Welcome to the National Hockey League prepare for hell. And you have to get used to me saying these things to you. I speak my mind sometimes,” he giggled again before continuing, “And when I do tell you what I’m thinking, I’m going to say these things often! March, you’re great! I haven’t seen you skate, but it’s all James has been talking about, and Coach Bylsma for that matter. And I’m your friend, friends say stiff like that!”
 
Sidney Crosby is my friend? Really? Why? Who would want to be friends with me?
 
Sidney laughed at something in the background, and I’m pretty sure I heard James or Marc Andre. “Happy Birthday Sidney, I’ll see you later okay?”
 
“Thanks! See you later on!”
 
“Bye!”
 
“Bye!” He replied, and I ended the call.
 
“Wow,” I said to myself. I’m considered Sidney Crosby’s friend? What the hell? Why the hell am I his friend? He’s a huge NHL star, and I’m just… normal.
 
*          *          *          *          *          *          *
I walked through the roomy hallways of the Pittsburgh Penguins arena and only stopped when someone called out my name in a French accent.
 
I looked behind me to see Marc Andre Fleury running up behind me in the same black sneakers with white rubber and backwards baseball cap as he wore to the first meeting. He was wearing was a baggy white tee shirt with the Pittsburgh penguins logo on the front. Just think, in two months I’ll be on the ice wearing a jersey with that logo and number 77 on the back, for all fans to see. I smiled at the thought. “Hey Marc Andre!” He wrapped me into a huge hug.
 
“So March, were you born in March?” He asked me laughing.
 
I laughed too, “No, actually I was born in August! I turn 18 on August 14! Soon! Augusta's a name too though, right?"

We both laughed at my stupid joke.

Skillfully filling the awkward silence that followed, Marc Andre asked, "So what do you listen to? Music I mean? We have a group iPod, what are you going to add to it. Pleeeease don't say Taylor Swift! Or One Direction. Don't say One Direction. DO NOT say One Direction."

I laughed, "Relax! I'm not a One Direction fan! I kinda like old music."

"Oh no! Don't tell me YOU like Johnny Cash too!"

I laughed, "No, no. I like Bruce Springsteen." He gave me a blank look. "The Boss? Performed the half time show at a Supet Bowl, what was it? Like XLIII or something?"

"Oh, knee slide born to run guy!" Understanding sparked his face. "He's okay. I like the song Glory Days. We always listen to that and the born to run."

I laughed, "Yeah, knee slide born to run guy. Sometimes I like Bon Jovi, living on a prayer. I'm so weird! I like all this weird old rock."

Marc Andre shook his head, "Some of the others are worse than you! Sidney is really the only cooperative one, who claims to like everything."

"I sorta like everything too. Just NOT techno. Seriously, I don't even get it!"

Marc Andre shook his head, "Well prepare for hell then. I love it!"

Prepare for hell. A lot of people have said that recently. Well two. marc Andre and Sidney.

We pushed the door open to the locker room together, and Coach Bylsma motioned me over. "Alright, we're going to introduce you, get you your stall and jersey and equipment and there's an optional skate tomorrow."

I nodded, "I'll be there!"

"Hey everyone!" Coach Bylsma raised his voice, quieting the hockey players. "Welcome back to Pittsburgh first of all. I have true faith in this team this year! We have to make things happen. But this season we are making HISTORY. This team is welcoming the first female to the NHL, Miss March Wilson!" The coach gentured to me, and I found myself staring at the floor.

"A girl you mean?" Someone asked in a thick Russian accent "Is this a joke or something. Did Flower put you up to this?"

I looked up. Evgeni Malkin. I raised my voice, probably surprising some of the guys, "Stop being a douche, you met me already." My voice was shaky and quiet, but it was a start.

I looked over at Marc Andre and James who were sitting beside each other, both bent over in laughter, attempting to control their giggles. I smiled and took a look over at Sidney, who gave me a thumbs up. I mouthed happy birthday to him, but he gave me a confused glance and I could tell he didn't understand what I was trying to say. I mouthed nevermind, which he seemed to get.

Coach said tightly, "Anyway, she's very, very talented. Really. Just ask Nealer."

All eyes turned to the ball of energy, Real Deal James Neal or whatever his nickname is. His face turned red, "Wait what?"

Everyone laughed, "Nice one!" I said with a grin. Maybe I don't fit in so well with Evgeni Malkin, but I know I have a place with James, Marc Andre, Sidney and probably Kris Letang, he had seemed really nice. In all, everyone's really nice here.
************
The meeting was really quick, and we dispersed into seperate groups. I went to a restaurant with Sidney, Marc Andre, James, Kris Letang, Jordan Staal and to my disappointment, Evgeni Malkin. What's his deal anyway?

Sidney said, "Come sit next to me March!"

"No March! I'm better than him!" James called to me playfully.

Sidney made the "puppy face" "But March, it's my birthday!" So that's how I ended up taking a seat next to Sidney Crosby and Jordan Staal. How did this happen? Am I REALLY sitting at a table of Pittsburgh Penguins hockey players. Then I realized, I'm one of them.

My name is March Wilson, and I am a center eho wears number 77 for the Pittsburgh Penguins.