You Hit Like a Girl

Chicago, August 11th, 2012- Charlotte’s POV
Practices started early, so I had to get up unnaturally early. Normal people would shower, dress, and eat something, but I wasn’t normal anymore. My alarm sounds at 4:30, waking me from a dreamless sleep. I stretch and wipe my eyes, yawning, and regretting the past couple of days without sleep. I pull myself out of bed and walk towards the light, the real one, not the metaphorical light of death. I hop into the bathroom, avoiding the clutter that I haven’t sorted through yet. I don’t really need to shower because I’m just going to play hockey against a bunch of sweaty men and get gross doing it, so I skip the shower and start to apply the makeup for my day old stubble it’s pretty much a sticky foundation that is hypoallergenic and pieces of artificial hair cut short. After I fix my hair with gel, I pull on a thick tank top and a long-sleeved flannel with a pair of track pants.
Grabbing my bag I pull out of the apartment and lug it to my car. The drive is short because it is so early in the morning and no one is really on the roads. The sun is down and but the lights still glint off of the windows and street, giving an eerie feeling to the city and the stadium. The only cars in the parking lot are the players and workers, so I pull up within the first few rows and grab my stuff again. The locker room is loud and fills the hallway with laughter and yells. I take a deep breath and prepare myself for the inevitable, naked men, sweaty stench, and jakes about my smaller size.
The room is large and I take my bag to the open stall next to Hjalmarsson and Hossa. Most of the men are decent, mostly in boxers or pads already, thank the lord, and the smell isn’t so bad before practice. Hjalmarsson looks down and smiles, “Hey.”
‘Hey, I’m Charlie, the new rookie from the farm teams.” I say pulling my shoes off.
“I’m Niklas, but everyone calls me Hammer,” and that was all of our conversation because I am awkward like that.
I pull off my shirt and shrug into my pads and the old sweater I packed in my bag, but the awkward part is changing into my bottoms. I am wearing compression shorts that are very convincing so I slip out of the track pants and hop into my pads as quickly as possible without seeming suspicious, but this is pretty much where things go wrong. My foot is stuck in the bottom and Stalberg hits Hossa who bumps me where I start to tip off balance my arms try to balance my body, but they fail. Miserably.
Before I can fix anything, my body pitches forward just as someone walks in with a large cooler of ice water to replace the old stuff in the ice baths; I land on the floor in a heap and my legs trip the worker who falls, essentially dropping the whole cooler on my hips and stomach. Pain radiated from my hips while shock registered on my upper half that was soaked through with freezing water and speckled with ice. The room was silent, well except for Hossa.
“Man, I am so sorry! Stally made me lose my balance. Are you alright?” Hossa directed towards us, the worker and I who now made a sopping wet muddled mess on the floor.
The worker finally gets up off of me, but pushes on the cooler getting up. Pain spikes as the edges push into my already bruised stomach and hips and I groan. He stands, “Sorry about that,” and offers his hand which I grab as he pulls me upright. I grab my sweater and try to squeeze the water out of it, but it is too soaked. I shed the sweater and the pads that have to dry and pull up my shirt to look at the angry red and darkening lines on my stomach.
“Shit! Dude, that looks nasty,” Hammer says pointing at my bruised skin and throwing me a towel. I catch it one handed and dried my face and arms off before noticing that my stubble was hanging off my face on a clear piece of sticky gloop and that all of the guys were staring.
“Charlie, what is that?” Toews asks genuinely confused.
“Umm, will you believe me if I said I can’t grow a beard?” I ask sheepishly, knowing that he has figured it out.
“No. Charlie, can you just tell us. We aren’t stupid and we won’t tell anyone. I can say that for all of the guys. Secrets stay secrets. No matter how big they are.”
“Fine. I promise that I will tell everyone after practice. OK? Happy?” I say pulling on the set of spare pads and sweater that someone had given me. I laced up my skates and put my helmet on before walking out on the ice. The stadium was ginormous and looked intimidating when it was quiet and empty. Coach Q was already on the ice with the assistants and trainers.
“Good, you are all here. I am assuming you all met Charlie. He will fit in on Sharp’s line for now and might move over with Stalberg depending on how he fits, it is up to you guys to welcome him and help him out until he gets into the routine. I think that’s all I have to say, but Charlie why don’t you tell us about you so the guys know a little bit.”
Great, just what I need, a get to know the weird guy session. “Well, I’m Charlie Lafleur. I am from a small town on the boarder of Canada in New York and have played hockey my whole life with my older brothers and that’s pretty much it,” I say shrugging and smiling a bit.
“Ok, guys get going. Just start your normal warm up.” Coach says waving the guys off.
It turns out that their ‘normal’ warm up is stretching and a few suicides with a bit of puck handling. Practice is long and tiring, but I keep up and manage not to be killed whenever I am checked into the boards or have to fight for a puck. I am smaller than the rest of the guys in weight, but in height I am a little taller than some but sorter than most, however; I am faster than everyone because of my size and agility.
When practice ends we all are sweaty, tired, and moving slowly towards the locker room. The guys mess around until Jon clears his throat, pointing to me, “Charlie still hasn’t explained.”
They caught me, shit. I take a deep breath and looked into his brown eyes, cursing him slightly because I never figured out a good excuse other than the truth. I take another deep breath and start, “Guys, first off I am going to say sorry. Second off I am going to ask you to keep in mind what happened in practice today because I have earned this spot and I just showed you why. O.K, so I have had this dream for my whole life but it has been unattainable because of who I was born as. Now that I am in the NHL I feel like the happiest and luckiest person ever. So here goes nothing… Guys, I am uhh… female?”
There was silence for the longest time, the guys just stared at me for a long time, Hossa just arched an eyebrow, Jon could’ve caught a few flies in his mouth if he didn’t shut it soon, and Kane was trying not to laugh. It didn’t last long before the whole team was laughing.
“Great joke, but really, what was with the facial hair gone way wrong?” Hammer says.
“No, guys I am really a girl.” I take my helmet off, pull of the pads so I am left in my bike shorts and thermal.
They still don’t buy it, so I motion for Hammer to come over. He does.
“Hammer I trust you the most because I am NOT having Kaner or god forbid anyone else do this, but just look under my thermal. IF you say anything about them I will kill you.”
He stares at me like I am crazy, “JUST DO IT! I COULDN”T CARE LESS IF YOU SAW MY BOOBS BECAUSE YOU SURE AS HELL ARE NOT SEEING MY NETHER AREAS!” I scream before grabbing his hand and lifting my collar from my chest. He peeks down and turns red as tomato.
“Well?” Kaner says anxiously towards Hammer who is still trying to phrase his words carefully.
“Guys, umm, uhhh… well. Ahhh… either he is a guy with boobs that is really physically fit, or she is a female. I’m going with the second one because she also is really really hairless.”
I pat his head, “thank you Niklas. Now that that is solved can you all close your mouths because I am seeing a lot more holes of where teeth should go but nothing there than I want to see and will someone pinch Crow. He seems a little dazed.”
I pull on my hoodie and track pants and walk out leaving the guy s to mull that over. I knock on Coach Q’s door and walk in. He is sitting watching the latest Redwings’ Bluejackets’ Game on his computer.
“Charlie, sit down. What do you need?”
“They know. My makeup came off after I was doused with water on accident and they figured it out.” I spurt out avoiding eye contact.
“Were they angry?” He says looking over.
“They were surprised. I had to have Hammer look down my shirt to prove it. I showed them at practice that I deserve to be here so I think it is going to be fine. I am still being a guy for games and press and stuff because it will be easier.” I explained.
“O.K, well, I don’t think it will be too bad. I’m putting in a separate area for you to change and shower in so you aren’t uncomfortable. I know what Kaner is like.” He says winking at me.
I laugh, “Thanks. I don’t think it will be too much of an issue I am comfortable dressing in front of the guys if I am not naked or in my underwear, but showering and changing afterward would be great if it was more private.”

TIED 2 to 2. I was in my uncle's sports bar, with my cousins from Boston for Game 1. We scared the new bartender. It got quite loud and when we won my aunt kissed him.