To Prove What You're Worth

To Prove What You're Worth
Chapter One

My eyes were trained on the TV, watching the puck fly from player to player as they skated across ice. The black and yellow uniformed jerseys contrasted with their white and blue opponents. The commentators on the TV were heard loud and clear over the rustling of the chip bag in my hands and the occasional sip of soda out of the can.

I sat there on the edge of my seat as I watched the Stanley Cup Finals: Game Three on my flat screen TV. My favorite team was in it, the Boston Bruins. They had been my favorite team ever since my surrogate brother, Nathan Horton, became interested in hockey. I don’t know what it was about them, they were just rugged and tough; or maybe it was the saying, “Don’t poke the bear” that caught my eye when I was younger. When Nathan started playing for them that was just an added bonus.

Nathan had started getting interested in hockey before I even joined his family. So I started as soon as I could, when I was six years old. And, of course being at that age, I just had to start following in my brother’s footsteps even before he did at that age. Once I got skating down and added the stick, it all just came naturally to me. Nathan, being eight years older than me, helped me get the moves of a striker down as soon as possible. That was his position; he was the right wing. I preferred being the center, therefore I could take face-offs. I loved facing the enemy player and staring them down.

When I was a child, I had joined the rookie hockey team and did all of that little league crap. I was above the other players in skill because of my favorite person in the world. I even got into a high school level team in seventh grade and was their top forward. I hadn’t played on an official team since my senior year of high school since there weren’t any teams nearby for me to play…but once a team player, always a team player, none of that has ever left me.

From the time when I was on my last team, I had only played pick up games of hockey with Nathan and old friends from Dunnville, Ontario. I have kept my physical shape in top condition, going on long runs and doing strength training daily at the gym in my apartment complex.

Seeing the number eighteen flash across the ice on the screen of the TV caught my attention. Eighteen was Nathan’s number on the Bruins. Whenever he was on the ice, I always focused on the TV. Not only being my surrogate brother, he as one hell of a hockey player.

Right at that moment, Zdeno Chara had the puck. He was trying to escape some Canucks player whom I didn’t care about, until he passed it to another enemy player.

That I did care about because that was a turnover in our own zone.

“His pass is cut off by Burrows,” the commentator said.

‘Shit.’ I thought. Luckily, Chara got it back.

“Again, it’s Chara; he’s able to shake free this time. He passes out to the neutral zone to Nathan Horton. He slows things down a bit. Then Horton to Lucic and into the attacking zone.”

I saw it before the commentator realized what had happened. Being a hockey player, I could see when a hit was coming. Nathan was hit, hard; and the thing that worried me was that he didn’t get up. It was a late hit, yes, but he was a Nathan Horton! He was invincible.

Everything else happened in slow motion. The camera zoomed in onto Nathan and I could see the blank stare in his eyes. He was struggling to breathe. At best, he only had the wind knocked out of him. My heart dropped as the medics came out onto the ice and called for a stretcher. I thought I saw his head hit the ice, but I wasn't sure.

I cursed and chewed my lip, waiting.

Suddenly my phone started vibrating, signaling a call was coming in. The I.D. that came up was my surrogate mother, Cindy. Obviously she and her husband, Adam, were watching the game and were calling me since I was living in Boston while they were still in Canada.

“Hello, Cindy.” I called them by their names; ‘Mom’ and ‘Dad’ never really stuck since I still had many memories of my real parents. Neither did I take on the last name ‘Horton.’ ‘Carter’ sounded right to me, even now.

“Mia! Are you watching Nathan’s game? He’s hurt; some Canucks player hit him hard! Is he going to be okay?” She babbled into the phone.

“I don’t know; they’re taking him off on the stretcher now. He’ll probably go to the hospital for the night. I bet he will be fine, so don’t worry too much.” I answered as I got up to pace around my living room.

I heard her take in another breath to let out another string of questions. I interrupted her. “I’ll let you know how he’s doing when I see him tomorrow.”

Cindy relented and we said our good-byes along with my “say ‘hello’ to Adam for me.”

The rest of the game was exciting with the final score being 8-1, the Bruins absolutely crushing the Canucks. But, there was the dead weight in the back of my mind nagging me to think about Nathan.

I should call him, just to be sure he wasn’t dying. I picked up my phone and opened the contacts before pausing.

‘No, he’ll be okay. He always has been in the past.’ I thought as I put my cell back on my bedside table. I got into bed and under my blanket. He was probably asleep in a hospital bed now. That thought was enough to put me at ease to get some sleep.

That night, my dreams were plagued with the number eighteen and a white sheet over a body.

The next morning, I awoke to not my alarm clock, which was set for 7:30, going off, but to my phone vibrating once again.

I glanced at the digital clock next to my bed and glared at it. It read 7:00. It was way too early as I debated ignoring my phone and rolling over to attempt falling back asleep. I decided to glance at it. I picked it up and read the caller I.D. and almost dropped my phone.

Nathan It read.

I quickly answered.

“Nathan! Are you okay? I saw you on TV last night.”

“Hey, Mia, I’m okay. I got some bad news though. I have a concussion and won’t be playing in the rest of the finals. Other than being pissed, I just have a killer head ache.” He sounded nervous over the phone, maybe it was just me.

“Aw, Nate, I’m so sorry!”

“Listen, could you come and visit me, there are some people who would like to talk to you.” He interrupted before I could say anymore.

“Uhh, sure?” I answered, confused. “When is a good time?”

“Now, actually, would be great, since you’re now up.”

I mentally groaned, I was hoping to get more sleep after we hung up. It was too early for me.

“Give me a half hour to get there?” I asked.

“Yeah, they say that’s fine.”

They? Who are they? More confusion on my part.

“O-okay, see you then.” I stuttered slightly, trying to understand what was happening.

“Great! Oh, and bring your hockey gear, all of it. And eat something!” Nathan hung up the phone before I could even ask what he was talking about.

Groaning, I got out of bed and padded into the bathroom. I quickly brushed my teeth and did all my bathroom needs. No makeup today, I decided, there was no time. I had to gather all my gear and get to the hospital.

Fifteen minutes later found me in a pair of lightly colored jeans and a black tank, lugging my big sports bag and hockey sticks out to my car in the parking garage. I had a half eaten bagel in my mouth.

I loved my little Volkswagen, it was small and zippy!

I made it to the hospital in record time, considering it was morning rush hour time. Nathan, on the way, texted me his room number so that I could go straight there. It was on the first floor, easy, I hope.

I parked the car and went into the hospital through the main entrance. I didn’t like hospitals…at all. They were full of sick people, and needles. I didn’t like needles either. Partially, my mom, yes, my real mom, would use sewing needles to get out splinters in my feel and hands. She would always use the tip. That was one of the only few remaining memories of my mother and I cherished it, even if it hurt.

I found Nathan’s room after asking a young, timid nurse where it was. I guess my height had something to do with scaring the poor lady. At 5’8’’ I was taller than most women. Or maybe she was afraid because she could see my muscles. That thought made me laugh slightly.

Nathan’s wife, Tammy, was standing outside in the hall. She smiled warmly and gave me a tight hug.

“Hi, Honey, how are you?” She greeted.

“I’m okay, considering the situation,” I confessed. “How is he?”

“He was really out of it when they brought him here, I almost had a heart attack. But, the doctor says he will be fine once his head heals.”

“I’m really happy he’s alright.” I felt some tension in my shoulders leave as I said this.

Tammy nodded in agreement. “Go on in,” she motioned to the door.

“Are you not coming?” I asked when she made no move to follow.

“No, I’m not allowed in there right now.”

I looked at her, totally perplexed. She pushed me closer to the door.

I entered the hospital room through the closed door without knocking. Why bother? It was Nathan. But when I looked around the room, I immediately wished I hadn’t just barged in.

Nathan wasn’t alone, I already knew that from our phone call. But I wasn’t expecting the six other men in the room. When I started to recognize them, my heart nearly stopped beating.

There was the Bruins General manager, Peter Chiarelli, President Cam Neely, the head coach, Claude Julien, and his three assistant coaches: Doug Houda, Geoff Ward, and Doug Jarvis. Even the goaltending coach, Bob Essensa was there.

All six were staring at me as if they were assessing me.

I stared right back, one eyebrow raised.

Claude Julien finally broke the tense silence. “Nathan, you can’t be serious, she’s so small!”

Ouch, I wasn’t expecting that. I was actually tall for women. I made a sour face, obviously insulted.

“Nathan, what’s going on?” I asked the hockey player in bed.

“Well, Coach came in and got my status and said that they needed a new forward if we want to win. He didn’t know who to play. So, I suggested you.”

“What?” I said dumbly; I must have misheard him.

When I realized he wasn’t kidding, I openly gaped at him and took a step back. I quickly went into shock, I really couldn’t believe it. My own brother nominated me, not to mention a woman, to be a player in the NHL Playoffs. No, even further than that, the Stanley Cup Finals. This had to be against the rules of the league. Women couldn’t play men’s professional hockey!

Not true. I reminded myself. In the 1992-1993 season, a woman named Manon Rhéaume played for the Tampa Bay Lightning during the preseason. But this, this was something much larger than a preseason game.

If this was serious, and it sure seemed to be, I was going to be the second woman to play in the NHL. This was the chance of a lifetime.

I bit my bottom lip and narrowed my eyes into a glare at the men in the room. I crossed my arms over my chest defiantly.

“Hey, Coach, I know I’m tiny but my attitude and speed make up for it.”

Claude Julien took a few seconds to take that in before he chose to reply. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know, kid, you’re a girl, and size does make up a lot of hockey.”

“Take a defensive position,” Cam Neely ordered, successfully startling me.

I took my stance, knees bent and legs shoulder width apart. My arms were bent at my sides and slightly away from my body as if one of my hands was holding a hockey stick.

The Bruins’ president approached and circled me, studying my positioning. Cam Neely was a retired Bruin, and he knew what he was looking for. He pushed me at random points at different pressures, and I added the right amount of resistance to not budge.

“Not bad,” Neely observed when he finished his ‘examination.’ “Still room to improve though.”

Nathan cut in before I could say anything insulting. “Coach, I’ve taught her all I know, she even has a few tricks of her own up her sleeves. She’s very aggressive on the ice, and she’s a team player. Mia is better than me in many ways.”

Well, that had me flabbergasted. I didn’t think I was better than Nathan in anything. Where we were today spoke about that.

The coaches, president, and general manager had a private conversation in the corner of the hospital room. I immediately moved over to Nathan.

“So, let me get this straight, you nominate me for an all men’s hockey team in the NHL without talking to me first?” I ground out. I swore my left eye was twitching slightly.

Nathan laughed and rubbed the back of his head. “Sorry, Mia, but you’re the only person for the job that came to mind.”

I had to smile a bit at this but said, “I’m still not happy with you.” To be truthful, I was having a hard time not jumping up and down, screaming in excitement.

Before he could respond, Cam Neely cut in. “Okay, so here’s the deal. You’re in for the next practice before the next game. We’ll decide on the last practice if you’ll play. We’re going to work you hard.”

Then, Claude Julien offered a warning. “The other players, Bruin or not, will not accept you until you get their respect. But, we are desperate and this situation has our backs against the wall. Got it?”

Nathan and I couldn’t keep the smiles off of our faces.

“Yes, sir, Coach!” I chirped.

Coach looked at me sharply. “No ‘sir,’ just ‘Coach.”

I laughed sheepishly. “Alright.”

Coach Claude, as I will now refer to him as, turned to Nathan.

“Horton! You’re being discharged. I want you to get Carter ready for practice at the Garden. Since you seem to have thought all this through, I want you to show her to her locker room, the small one, and go over regular practices.” He informed and directed.

Nathan nodded, now serious. “I will do that.”

“Good, you have an hour until the early birds get there.” Looking at me, Coach Claude continued, “I want you, Carter, on the ice warming up before anyone else is even ready. Doug Houda will be assessing your skills as a skater and with a hockey stick and then we’ll go from there.”

I could only nod.

Coach Claude smiled for the first time since I came into the room. He stuck out his hand.

“Welcome to the Bruins, Ms. Carter,” he congratulated as he shook my hand.

“Thank you, Coach, it is truly an honor.”

The rest of the coaching staff and the general manager shook my hand and filed out of the door, not many smiled at me. Doug Houda was the last person for me to be congratulated by.

“Be ready to be worked hard.” He grinned warmly as he gave his warning. He followed the others out the door.

I turned to Nathan who was already out of bed getting the hospital gown off.

“You have officially sentenced me to death.” I whined as I plopped down in a chair in the corner. I was shaking from nervousness now. What if the Bruins lost the cup because of me?

“I think you can do it.” That was all my brother said in reassurance as he pulled on his jeans.

I cradled my head in my hands, my mind racing. I thought my skills were good enough; the only thing that worried me was how the team would take to me. There would be no respect at first, I had to prove myself. That was what happened to me when I joined the high school team. But this, this will be ten times worse. It was professional, and the Stanley Cup was in view.

Why were people so stereotyped? Kids are weak and immature. A lot of the times, it was true, but there can be pleasant surprises. Women are weak and small. That was about to be proved wrong.

A pair of shoes came into view and I looked up to see Nathan looking down at me. He was smiling.

I got up and hugged him tightly. “Please don’t get hurt again,” I asked.

Nathan laughed and returned the hug. “I can’t promise, you know that.”

It was true, hockey was a dangerous sport.

“Ready?” He asked as he headed to the door.

“As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.” I followed him.

“Good, because we’ve got to hurry if we want to get a lot of alone ice time for you.”

We exited the room and met up with Tammy who was still waiting outside.

“What did they want?” She asked.

I smiled and announced quietly to her, “Apparently, I might be taking Nate’s place in the Stanley Cup Finals.”

“What?!” She shrieked, attracting many glares from the nurses. Nathan and I winced.

“Tammy, quiet down, we don’t want anyone to know yet.” He warned as he drew her in close for a one-armed hug. We continued our fast pace down the hall.

“Isn’t that against the rules?”

“I guess not,” I shrugged. “But, Tammy, seriously, you can’t tell anyone. Not even your girlfriends, okay?”

She nodded her head furiously. “I promise.”

We said our goodbyes and Nathan checked out of the hospital. We ran to my car, probably not the best idea for Nathan and his concussion. I broke the law and sped at least fifteen miles per hour above the speed limit to get to the TD Garden. Stupid, I know, but I was excited.

We got into the top notch private parking with Nathan’s card. I felt all giddy for parking in one of the spots that an actual Bruin usually parked.

To add to my tingliness, we used the players’ door.

I lugged my bag and sticks down the long hall with Nathan in the lead. He offered to help but I declined, saying he shouldn’t strain himself. Besides, I had to do it on my own.

We passed a large arch in the wall a ways down a long hallway.

“That’s the regular locker room where the rest of the team will be getting ready.” Nathan caught me looking.

Curiosity getting the better of me, I poked my head in. Although empty, the room was pretty big in size. Each player had their own area to get ready. The little ‘nooks’ had a number and the last name of a player on the shelf where the helmets and gloves went.

I wanted my name to be on one of those.

“Mia, come on, we need to hurry.” Nathan urged me to keep moving.

I walked fast to catch up to him. We came to a smaller arch way and the room inside was much smaller. There were only three cubbies in there.

“This room is used for overflow in players on the team. Right now, we have fewer players than the main locker room provides, so you’re good to go in here.” Nathan turned and started walking out of the room. “You have ten minutes to get ready. I’ll be back then. I’m going to go tell Coach that you’re here getting ready, as well as fill some water bottles for you.”

“I’ll be ready.” I was already rustling through my equipment bag, getting out my hockey armor.

I discovered a shower behind a curtain which provided me with enough privacy to get on my spandex that went down to my ankles. I put on my sports bra also. I emerged from the shower room and pulled on my under armor long-sleeve shirt. I sat down in my little ‘cubbie’ and put on my knee high socks. Next, I put on the shin guards which also protected my knees. I pulled on my over sized socks over my shin guards, they went up to my mid thigh, and then kept them up with my Velcro guarders.

I stood up and put on my chest guard complete with shoulder pads. I then stepped into my hockey pants, pulled them up, and fastened the belt so that they wouldn’t slip down. Hockey pants were just shorts.

Next, I put on my elbow pads to protect me from skinning them when I would, no doubt, fall today. Finally, I got out my skates and laced them up tight so that my foot wouldn’t move around a lot and to prevent broken ankles.

I was almost ready. I grabbed my mouth guard and put it in, pulled on my gloves, and grabbed my three, already taped sticks.

I also picked up my helmet and turned to go out to the rink to find Nathan. I almost walked over him as I left my locker room. Even with the ice skates on, Nathan was still slightly taller than me.

“Oh, hello.” I greeted sounding slightly funny with my mouth guard in.

“Here, I thought you would like this.” He held out a piece of cloth to me.

I took it and held it up. I bit my lip to keep from smiling too big. In my hands was a practice jersey with the Bruin logo on it. The number on the back was eighteen, Nathan’s number.

“Wow, thank you!” I all but squealed and hugged him.

He laughed. “You’re welcome. Now, come on, we’re going to be late.”

He led me down the hall again and I pulled on his practice jersey as I followed him. I did not mistake the fading laughs and talk in the original Bruins’ locker room.

We emerged through the team entrance onto the rink. Excitement rolled through me as I took my first step onto the ice in the stadium I had only dreamed of visiting from the stands.

A voice to my left startled me.

“Alright, Carter, let’s see what you’ve got.” Coach Doug Houda appeared in my view.

He was wearing skates, a helmet, and hockey pads to my surprise. Was he going to skate with me, or against me?

I smirked, it looked like I’ll be beating him up either way.

Nathan took a seat on the bench with a couple water bottles. No doubt I’ll need them soon.

I turned fully to my coach.

“Bring it on, Coach.” I smiled brightly. However, in the game and practices, I loved getting under my opponents’ skins. It didn’t matter who they were.

So, yes indeed, bring it on.