Holiday Hockey Tale: The Icebreaker's Impasse

Chapter 1: Late

Luci Forrester

“I’m late, I’m late…” I mutter as I race through the corridors to get to class. Professor Elkins isn’t always forgiving, and if she makes me stand in front of the class to explain my tardiness, I won’t be able to stand it.

I keep muttering to myself, and I hear the jingle start in my head. The white rabbit in the animated Alice in Wonderland. “I’m late, and I’m late for a very important date. No time to say hello goodbye, I’m late, I’m late, I’m…” I can see the entire movie playing before my eyes.

“AHHH!” I let out an involuntary scream as I crash into a huge hard wall. I glance up and want to die. It’s not a wall I ran into, rather a concrete human body.

My eyes are probably the size of saucers as I stare up into the face of one of the four kings of Kenton. The Reed “brothers” who rule the ice here at Kenton University and then the town along with their parents. I happened to run into the most ruthless one, Easton. He’s the hockey center and the most wanted bachelor probably among all the universities in this state. Which is code for entitled playboy in my book. The puck bunnies line up for him after every practice and game. He’s also the coldest and cruelest of the four.

Great, just what I needed.

My left pointer finger immediately begins scraping its nail along my thumb as I wait for him to explode. He’s not known for his pleasantness, and I pray he doesn’t remember me from the other two encounters we’ve had in the last two years. My thoughts roll around in my head as I shake it a little to focus. That damn white rabbit analogy distracted me.

“I’m…sorry. I was chasing a rabbit.” I say with agitation, and he narrows his eyes at me. They are the most interesting color, like a silver with a hint of the palest ice blue throughout. That nonsense slipped out and I wince realizing he’ll think I’m clumsy and nuts. I concentrate hard to focus and get my thoughts in line. Come on brain!

“Luci!” I hear my best friend cry out from down the hall.

I peer around the massive hockey player and see Syd waving madly at me. The giant in front of me shifts to block my view shifting my attention back to him. Like I could forget he was here. They call him the Icebreaker because he basically mows down anything in his path to get to the goal.

An angry frown appears on Easton’s face as I chance a look back up. “Is that your ‘rabbit’ you were chasing?”

Oh god, his voice. I forgot how it affects you. It’s like the deepest, most gravelly sound I’ve ever heard. Not even in those online videos about the books I read do they sound like that. I can almost hear my eardrum tingling as it rolls through my head.

“Ummm, no. I…”

“Easton!!! Jackson!!!” A loud happy wail followed by a trill of laughter peals from behind me.

I dare not turn to look as Jackson Reed’s blue eyes move from my face to the hall behind me. They narrow more and I wonder if he minds the attention. I had a class with him last year. He ignored me and every other girl in there. He’s as tall as his twin brother which is probably like jolly green giant height. I mean seriously, I could get a neck cramp staring up at these guys. Probably six-six or six-seven. They both have short ash blonde hair and while Easton’s is ruffled and messy, Jackson’s is styled as messily but a bit shorter. It’s very textured and my mind wonders if it’s coarse or soft.

Easton tilts his head slightly as his eyes don’t waver. “Shouldn’t you be running after your rabbit… Luci?”

And now I know what an eargasm feels like when he says my name. What the hell is wrong with me today? This guy wants to kill me, I’m sure, while I’m trying not to drool over his voice. And I shouldn’t, knowing he finds me as reprehensible as the rest of his team.

I nod quickly and begin to step around him, but not before whispering. “Sorry.” Hopefully that doesn't revisit me later with some form of revenge.

I walk fast, darting around the corner and peeking in the thin strip of glass to see Professor Elkins talking. Syd catches my attention and I see her hold up three fingers. I nod and wait to see her reach down before she throws something at the windows on the opposite wall.

Professor Elkins turns to investigate the intrusion, and I slip in the door creeping to the first seat available. Syd gives me a thumbs up with a sneaky grin. Luckily, none of the football or hockey teams are in here or they would draw attention to our subterfuge to make me squirm.

I pull out my notebook silently and begin taking notes of what she’s written on the board. This is one of my least favorite classes, but it’s mandatory for graduation. I do better with numbers than I do dry boring history. They just suit my scattered brain better.

When I was ten, my teacher noticed I was always spaced out except during math class. She called my foster mom, Janet, and had a conference. After that, Janet took me to see a specialist. Mrs. Jenkins had suggested I was struggling with focusing more often than not and might need some additional help. I was diagnosed with ADHD, Primarily Inattentive Presentation or ADHD-PI. Rather than have the typical hyperactive component people expected with ADHD, I was withdrawn and would daydream a lot. Had trouble finishing assignments at school and I was easily distracted. Extremely unorganized and my brain rambles around with the weirdest pattern of thoughts. A lot like living in Wonderland with Alice sometimes. I’d follow some errant thought that occurred after I noticed one word in a sentence and begin to slide down a rabbit tunnel finding other distracting pieces of thought along the way. In the end, I’d pop out on a different scene full of more bright distraction or a whole new set of thoughts. Like what kept happening to Alice each time she thought she had her bearings in the animated movie I’ve seen millions of times.

At least that was the easiest way to describe it to other people like my best friend and to the psychologist when she asked me how my days go at school. I recall the test I took where she mentioned it would tell her how smart I was. Other questions to both Janet and I about how I handled getting dressed or brushing my teeth. What happened with certain foods or clothing textures. A hearing and vision test had to be done even though it confused me at the time. I could see and hear fine. I just didn’t always hear what was said. Janet assured me all the tests were to make sure they didn’t miss anything because sometimes you can have more than one puzzle that needs solving. She always had ways of phrasing things that helped me not feel less than even if it didn’t always work.

It hadn’t been easy to answer any of the questions on the first visit. Janet gently encouraged me to talk to her. Dr. Symon was her name. She had soft golden brown eyes surrounded by the most beautiful olive skin tone and a rich, soft voice. Her hair was streaked with gray and her smile was kind and gentle. She never lost patience with me once I let her in. I was scared though. She might tell Janet something that would have me moving again. Packing up my things and going somewhere new. Janet didn’t fuss at me for not listening. She would take my hands and sit down so I didn’t have to raise my eyes when she talked to me.

Collins, my social worker, came to my next appointment. He always smiled at me and his wife, Althea, would send me two M&M cookie bars each time I saw him. A book as well. My favorite was Freckle Juice by Judy Blume. I still have the copy she gave me. It’s seen better days having been packed to different houses and not always treated with care but it sits proudly on my bookshelf. Seeing him wasn’t always good. My heart would plummet when he’d show up. One time, he had to take me to his office, and I heard two other people talking about me. Not him. They said I was oppositional and defiant. That I was too much work to get through some days compared to their other kids in their home. Those words burned into my brain. Insults tend to do that. I can remember every hurtful thing I’ve ever been called. Every criticism lives on replay in my mind some days when I’m battling myself.

They sent me outside while the three of them talked. I’d sat there wondering how long it would take me to pack my things at Janet’s. Would mean a new school. Different teacher. Mrs. Jenkins was so sweet and nice to me. She never got mad when I took too long to answer a question or finish my worksheets.

When I was called back in, I asked Collins when he’d pick me up for the next house. Janet had immediately knelt on the floor and taken my hands. “You aren’t going anywhere, Luci girl. We’re going to listen to Dr. Symon about things we can do to help you focus and finish things.” She’d gone on to gently explain my diagnosis. Dr. Symon joined her and told me we would talk and she’d help me create a plan to make my days easier.

Janet worked hard to help me. I lived with her the longest period in foster care, almost ten years until I aged out. She took me to see a play therapist and other forms of interactive therapy where I learned some tricks to help me manage my situation.

I met Sydney Olmos at an art therapy class when I was twelve. She was there waiting on her older brother, Banning, who has his own focus issues. She walked right over and introduced herself to me. Turns out we went to the same school and in the same grade, but I had never noticed her. She asked me three questions; my favorite color, favorite food and whether or not I thought Tommy Baldon in our class was cute. After she heard my answers, she declared we would be best friends from then on. And we were. I was surprised. She learned tricks to make sure I stayed focused around her and would defend me when I couldn’t bring myself to do it. It helped that most didn’t pay that much attention to me when she was around. Still don’t to this day, which has never bothered me.

Syd always tells me I’m beautiful, but I’m not too concerned about my looks. One more thing I don't have time to worry about currently. I am what I am and if they only want to judge me on my looks, then so be it. Which is five seven with nothing much to brag about for my figure. My brown hair and brown eyes are nothing special or unique. I have a tiny smattering of pale freckles across my nose and upper cheeks. No where else on my pale skin.

Sydney's the typical American dream girl with golden blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Only an inch taller than me with a perfect figure and a year-round golden tan. All eyes are usually on her, which helps me a lot. Gives me time and space to organize my thoughts sometimes.

To this day, she is the one person I can call on when I’m having a tough day without guilt stopping me. I have it afterwards but less than with others. Dr. Symon talked about things like that possibly affecting me. Some of it sat in my head but I didn’t really pull it out until later on. Rejection sensitive dysphoria (RSD) that I could experience. Things I would have to work harder to overcome because of my guilt or emotional response to perceived rejection or criticism along with actual rejection or failure.

Masking where I’d try to appear normal to others and hide my ADHD. Dr. Symon cautioned me that masking and RSD could act on a loop driving each other. How this loop could exhaust me and lead to burnout which would make me even more susceptible to the rejection sensitivity. I’d learned that the hard way a few times already.

I saw Dr. Symon regularly for a year and a half. Then she moved away and Janet found me a new psychologist, Dr. Hamilton, who came highly recommended from the state approved list. I didn’t like her as much and left each session feeling like I was failing at managing my issues. She had this air of disappointment. I ignored it and tried harder because she helped the son of Janet’s coworker a lot with his neurodivergence. Her demeanor never seemed to change. Especially after I tried medication and it made everything ten times worse. I felt like my heart was going to explode on one. I couldn’t sleep and my anxiety spiked with the last two. My appetite fell off almost completely with two of them. After trying three different ones, I finally had the courage to beg Janet to give up. I was miserable. Dr. Hamilton wanted to try another, but Janet told her we were done and we could revisit it in a year or when I brought it up. I got a new therapist for other reasons a few months later. He focused on alternative ideas to help me manage things once Janet explained what happened. I last saw him four years ago. At that point, my anxiety was half what it is in the present day. After…. my first year of college it doubled easily.

Class ends as I was vaguely paying attention and Syd comes to wait for me.

“That was close.” She says with a big smile, and I laugh.

“Thanks, Syd. I hit an icy impasse.” She tugs my arm and puts her finger to her lips until we hit the hallway.

“Did he do anything to you?” She whispers worriedly.

“No, I think one of the puck bunnies showed up, so he was more concerned with that. Let me go with a little taunt, and that’s it.” I shrug, and we move cautiously around the corner. “He would have no idea that I run into walls even when I’m fully present. Grace personified I am not.” Thankfully, it's mostly empty. A few people stare at us for a minute. Probably curious if anyone is going to bother me.

"So he didn't remember you from last year?" She asks as we head toward her car.

"Didn't seem to." I say as I climb in. He’d have reason to but not have reason to, I think which sounds screwed up but it’s true. Besides he’d been distracted by the girl calling his name I’m sure. They don’t lack for attention from those. I’m not one of their confident, adoring fans. Which I shove aside before I go down a different rabbit hole comparing myself to another.

Comparison might be the thief of joy for some; for me, it’s more like another way to be passed over even in my own mind.

“Hopefully he forgot.” Syd murmurs.

I nod my head and recall what happened.

Last year, I'd been in the middle of heading to a table in the student center with my lunch. Naturally, I'd been lost in my head trying to organize my assignments for the day. Wasn't paying attention which was completely my fault.

Jim, one of the football players, had tripped me. I went flying as did my tray of food. While the fries and nuggets weren't a problem, the open yogurt cup was. Strawberry yogurt flew out and pelted none other than the quarterback of the football team, Julian. He'd snarled and gotten up shouting obscenities at me. In revenge, he grabbed his water bottle and dumped it on me. My shirt was completely soaked, and of course, it was mostly white, so it became transparent. I'd hunched into myself as they all laughed. It mostly cleared out after that. I sat there until the football team left.

A pair of extremely large feet had come to stand right in front of me. When I dared to look up, I stared into those narrowed angry eyes I admired earlier today. That was the first time I heard his voice. He had blotches of strawberry yogurt on his jeans, and I gasped.

"I... I didn't..." Before I could finish, he had growled. Full on growled like some kind of angry wolf.

"You f*****g did! Here, it's already ruined by you anyway. You should cover yourself!" He said angrily as I stared at the floor both humiliated and furious. I glanced up to see him reach behind his neck with one hand and pull the black hoodie he wore off in one swift, easy movement. He dumped it on my head and strode off. I'd tugged it on, grateful for it while wanting to burn it. All day long, I tried to ignore the scent of it.

Sydney teased me about it, but stopped when I told her the whole story.

"Burn it when you get home. But it's useful for now, babe."

Syd's voice then echoes as she calls me softly. "Luci… Luci… tune back in, babe."

I shake my head. "Sorry, Syd. Are we going to pick up Barrett? I can watch him while you go to the lab tonight."

"I appreciate it. We're going to make it, Luci. Last year of school."

I stem the hopeful joy and answer practically. “Only 155 school days left until graduation. Now to survive the final year of hell.”