“well now I know that I’m the fuel and she’s the spark”—Wildfire by Seafret
Colin
“First game of the season,” I announce to my teammates. It’s not like they’re not aware of it. Of course they know. But I guess it’s my job as the team captain to say a few words before every game.
The room quiets down. No other sounds but breathing is to be heard. It’s weird. Usually, this group of dorks is loud as hell. A little silence doesn’t hurt anyone though.
“It’s the last season for all of this year’s seniors. It would be a shame if they graduate without a last win.” I look around the locker room. Every single pair of eyes is on me. Half the guys are still half naked from being mid-changing, but neither of us cares. “This game will determine how good this season will go for us.” Not really, but you know, everyone has their superstitions. “After last season’s defeat at the Frozen Four finals, I think we all have enough rage to rock this one.”
A loud roar comes from my teammates. God, they’re so annoying sometimes. They couldn’t even think of anything better. Other teams cheer or have a special saying, but no, my team roars like a lion.
Come to think a catchphrase such as “Nine, Nine” from that TV show Brooklyn 99 would be great. Maybe like a “Trews!” you know, pleasing our college since it’s called “St. Trewery University” Okay, no, that’s just as stupid as roaring.
“And to all of our new freshman,” I continue, looking directly at the handful of newcomers. “Best of luck proving yourself worthy for the St. Trewery hockey team.”
The St. Trewery hockey team has been one of the best college hockey teams in the New York State for as long as anyone can remember.
“Now that we have a new coach, I think you guys have a pretty good chance to impress him.”
“Or not,” one of my teammates laughs. I immediately shoot him a death glare. One of our many unspoken rules is and will forever be: Never ever make fun of your teammates. And never ever doubt they can make it.
Teammates should respect one another. And I find it pretty important to keep that up. I don’t need my team hating on each other. Every single one here should know that we’ve got each other’s backs. If one falls, we all do.
“I’m just saying, man. Coach Carter is a tough nut to crack. He’s only coaching us because he is not coaching the pros at the moment. Why ever that is.”
I roll my eyes at Aaron Marsh’s comment. Aaron is my closest friend of all those douchebags. He’s been stuck with me ever since freshman year. We somehow ended up renting a house together.
And the house right across from ours, two of our teammates decided to move in to. We share one garden. Neither of us minds. And neither of us cares that the other two guys hang more around Aaron and my house than at their own. Still, we’re all referring to the other as “roommate,” though technically we’re not. Just Aaron and me, and Grey and Miles. The four of us are inseparable.
Aaron is a fit guy. Not only fit, but he also has a brain. He is ridiculously smart, and we all hate it. Not that I don’t refer to myself as smart, but this guy, damn. I think he’s majoring in Architecture. Actually, I know he is. He certainly knows his way around math.
“Yeah, Coach Carter is going to be the death of us,” another teammate says. Miles. He is one of those filthy-rich kids that get anything they want. (So am I, thanks to my father being an NHL hockey coach).
Miles is a lot to take in, a lot to deal with. Lucky for my father, he knows his way around an arrogant hockey player.
“Enough now. Coach Carter will push us all to our limits, we all know that. But it’s what the team needs,” I tell them. “He will have pity on some of your asses though.” Laughter erupts.
“You mean, he will have pity on your ass,” Miles corrects, raising his eyebrows at me. Of course they all know Coach Carter is my father.
Normally, my father is coaching the New York Rangers. But he doesn’t want to be away from his family, more specifically, from Eira, my younger sister. Eira is sick and before he would regret travelling the world with his team instead of being with his daughter, he decided to take a step back for a while. Hence, he is now coaching us.
However, my father coaching us doesn’t mean he will go easy on me. In fact, I think I will be the one he will go the hardest on. He always has been hard on me.
I ignore Miles’s comment. “Now,” I speak again, “get your asses dressed and let’s crush Yale!”
Another round of roars echo through the room. But this time, it’s a really great spirit. Maybe a roar isn’t so bad after all. This roar got something.
-♡–
We crushed Yale. 5-0, that’s what the huge scoreboard reads when the last second of the timer runs out and a loud, ear hurting tone shrills through the arena. People jump off their seats and cheer for my team. Other people, probably Yale fans, have their heads hidden behind their hands.
I’d be lying if I said winning isn’t one of the best feelings ever. Because it fucking is.
As the team captain, I feel obligated to skate over to the Yale hockey team, their team captain more precisely, and have a quick word with him.
I go tap Anderson on his shoulder blade as I approach him. “Good game,” I say, he nods in agreement. At least they’re good losers. But before I know, his team is skating off the ice and leaves. Not that I care.
“DUDE! FIVE TO FUCKING ZERO!!” Miles cheers, yelling through the arena. Loud “Woo’s” stream through my ears, followed by a ton of “TREWERY!” cheers over and over again. Damned if that doesn’t boost my ego.
“Off to the locker room!” Coach Carter claps his hands to get our attention.
He taps everyone on their back as they pass him, telling us how good of a game this was. But then he also says we could do better. I’m the last one to leave the ice, the last one to approach my father.
“You’ve done a great job there, son,” he speaks, giving me a fatherly hug. “You make me proud.” Yeah, right.
I do have a great relationship to my father. He has never been anything but nice to me. He has always been supporting me, celebrating every victory. But he pushes me over my limits. Not that that’s a bad thing. It’s just too much sometimes.
One time, I was about sixteen years old, he pushed me as far as to vomit on the ice during practice. He made me practice with his team. It was an honor to be there. But I was sixteen, not even close to those guys’ age. They had way more experience. They had way more training than I ever had. And sure enough, my stomach couldn’t take it anymore and I was emptying my guts on the ice.
Being mortified after that would be an understatement. I wanted to sink into the floor, die right there on the spot.
I’m sure my father is proud of me. I mean, what kind of jackass father wouldn’t be proud of their child’s victory. But hell, he lives his life through me. He could never go pro himself thanks to an injury, but I can. Unless I fuck up and get an injury like he did. I sure as hell want to go pro, it’s always been a dream of mine. I was maybe three years old when I was on the ice for the first time. Of course I couldn’t do much then, but my father insisted on taking me with him as he went to coach his team.
When I step into the locker room, my team is out of control, roaring like they don’t care if they lose their voices, singing, dancing in victory. I can’t help but laugh at these dorks, but then I join them, cause to hell with silliness. We fucking won.
I strip off my hockey gear and quickly throw on some sweatpants and a t-shirt.
Instead of taking a shower as I would normally, I will be going back out there. I just need to get rid of the protective gear first. I don’t care if I fall and hurt myself. I’ll be alone on the ice anyway, so nothing too severe to worry about.
Maybe trying to get faster on skates without the hockey gear is a stupid idea, but it’s a start, so I’ll take that.
“Where are you going?” Aaron asks when I head toward the exit of the locker room, clearly not having my stuff with me.
“Just going to skate for a while. You know, getting some extra training,” I tell him. He nods slowly, then shrugs and waves me off. It’s not like I owe him an explanation, but I also know he thinks I’m off to fuck someone. “Seriously, just some skating,” I say, even pointing at my feet.
“Didn’t say you weren’t.” He laughs. “Don’t stink up the whole rink. We’ve early practice tomorrow.”
I flip Aaron off with a grin on my lips and walk out of the locker room, my back heading out first. The second the double door closes, I turn around and walk toward the ice rink.
I’m pleased to find the arena empty. It’s an oddly calming silence, one that is good for improving skills. I grab the AirPods case from my sweatpants pocket and stick the buds into my ears, opening my music app right after. I press play on my favorite playlist, only to find out that my sister added some songs when I last visited.
My ears are filled with Get Into It (Yuh) by Doja Cat. I don’t bother switching the song though. Eira loves her, and whoever Eira loves, I shall love too. My sixteen years old sister would be mocking me right now if she heard the song I am listening to. Fortunately, she isn’t here right now.
Only seconds after I step onto the ice, I come to realize that I am not alone here. Sure, my teammates are still in the locker room, or shower room, or anywhere back there. But I am not alone here.
Blonde hair catches my attention. Someone is sitting on the seats right on the opposite side of where I’m standing. Their head is lowered, and doesn’t look above the railing, which makes it pretty hard for me to identify that someone. I skate closer. So close that I am now standing in front of her, still on the other side of the tempered glass.
I knock onto the tempered glass, hoping that will catch her attention. It doesn’t, she’s in her element. Usually, I would just shrug it off and go back to do my thing, but her body is shaking slightly. I think she might be crying.
The blonde girl is holding a notebook in her hands, and she is writing something into it. Judging by the few wet stains on the paper, she most definitely is crying. Someone can’t take the loss of their hockey team very well.
Being raised to care for vulnerable people, I tug back my ego and get off the ice. Fortunately, there is an exit right next to where she is sitting. At least I don’t have to make an extra effort walking all around the rink in skates to get to a crying girl.
She doesn’t even notice me when I walk up to her, nor when I sit down beside her. I remove my AirPods from my ears and put them back into the case, then go to take hers out of her ears. Well, one of them.
Green eyes meet mine. Jesus, her eyes are the most beautiful shade of green I’ve ever seen. She has a few freckles on her nose, spreading over her cheeks and forehead. It suits her and reminds me a lot of someone else I know.
Her eyebrows find together. She is frowning at me in confusion. Can’t blame her though.
“Are you okay?” I ask. Clearly, she is not. Her face is tear-stained, which means my assumption about her crying was correct. She nods but doesn’t use her voice to confirm. “I don’t think you are, blondie.”
She doesn’t say anything.
“What are you writing about?” Maybe that is a bit forward, and obviously private as she slams the notebook shut and sets it down onto the seat beside her.
“Congratulations on your victory,” she speaks. Her voice is sweet and calm, I think I just fell in love with it. That sounds silly, I admit. However, I want her to talk more.
I thank her wholeheartedly, though I’m not sure she means it. “Sorry your team lost.”
Blondie chuckles quietly, but I’m not sure if it is an ironic chuckle or a “great, now leave” one. Perhaps both. “I’m attending St. Trewery, Colin. I wasn’t here for Yale.” Oh, fuck me.
“You know my name,” I note, somewhat bobbing my head. For a short moment I wonder if she stayed here because she was hoping that maybe one of my teammates would meet her here and she would get laid.
“You are kind of Trewery’s big star, you know.” She shrugs unapologetically, giving me a slim smile. Not even a genuine one that reaches her eyes. No. It is a pity smile.
“So, who’s your favorite?” I don’t think talking to her about what I saw would be such a great idea. So, hockey it is.
“Aaron Marsh,” she says with no hesitation. I must look like I’ve seen a ghost, because she starts to laugh, looking at me with an awfully intense stare, I would back off if she didn’t seem all nice.
My hand finds the spot over my heart, my mouth opens as I pretend to be butt-hurt by her favorite hockey player choice.
Aaron is good. He has mad skills; I can’t blame her for liking him. And it’s not even that, Aaron is fine. Even I can say this guy does not have issues getting it. Not only because of the tons of girls he brings home every week.
“Sorry, blondie, but Aaron doesn’t do girlfriends, otherwise I would link you up.”
She freezes, but shortly after, she fakes some gaging sounds before breaking into even more laughter.
“I’m good, thank you very much.”
“Not into hockey players then, huh?”
“I’m not into Aaron specifically.” I don’t miss the disgusted tone in her voice, but I don’t dare asking her about it. “He dated my best friend for a while before breaking her heart.” At least she offers me an explanation anyway. Though, I don’t believe her.
“Aaron isn’t the dating type. So, I call bullshit.”
“Aaron totally is the dating type. He just doesn’t date anymore because Winter and Aaron have this on-off thing going since freshman year. But I bet he told you all about it. Aaron adores you.” I wonder how she knows that. I mean, Aaron and I sure are pretty damn close, but there is no way she knows that for sure.
He did tell me about Winter and their relationship though. Roughly.
“So, what’s the deal with you and Aaron?”
“There’s none. I just hear a lot about him from my best friend.” Again, I don’t believe her. But I don’t have any other choice, this girl won’t talk.
“You know my name, so it’s only fair if I get yours too,” I demand. But she shrugs and gets up from the seat. Without saying anything further, she walks away. She. Walks. Away. From me. Ouch.
I watch her leave, and once she is around the corner, I notice a mint green notebook lying on the seat. She forgot her notebook, dammit.
Maybe I should go after her. Only so she gets her book back, but she is too far away already. I can’t possibly catch up with her while wearing skates. I could yell out her name, but I don’t know it. Let’s pray I will find her on campus, that way I can give it back to her.
The mint green notebook is staring at me, screaming “read me.” I know I shouldn’t, but c’mon, as if I could keep this book with me for what? Days? And not look inside at least once.
I allow myself a quick look, just trying to see if I find any indications as to who she may be, but then I’m hooked.
Dear whoever reads this,
I have no idea how I am supposed to talk about me. Maybe this will just be a way of me expressing what I felt while writing this. Maybe not.
You see, I don’t ever speak about my past. Come to think it’s a habit of my mother’s that I picked up along the way. She never speaks about what happened, but I think it’s just what I needed back then.
I.
Want.
To.
Die.
I’m not afraid of death. In fact, I think it will be quite peaceful. For me at least.
I won’t have to deal with all those feelings anymore.
I won’t have to deal with the pain anymore.
I won’t have to deal with the people causing the pain anymore.
I won’t have to deal with the constant cries and long nights anymore.
It will all be over. How much better could it get?
I used to be afraid of death, but I can’t be afraid of it anymore. What awful thing could there possibly be?
I could be dead. But that’s the whole point, isn’t it?
Maybe I will remember my life on earth, have an afterlife or continue to live as a spirit. But even if that’s not the case, it’s the best-case scenario. I don’t want to remember me.
Lily
I stare at those two pages. Two whole pages of the girl I found crying. Lily. Two pages on which she speaks about death as if she’s been fantasizing about it for way too long already.
Two weeks. God dammit. This girl is giving herself two more weeks to live. I hope she’s joking. But to hell with that. It’s a really bad joke.
When I first found the book still lying on the seat, I thought she left it on purpose. But I highly doubt that now. There is no way that she ever wanted anyone to find this before she… what? left?
I turn the page to see if she wrote any more. She did. I want to read it, but I know I shouldn’t. This is her battle, her thoughts. But how am I supposed to ignore a cry for help like this?
I remind myself that this isn’t a cry for help. It’s a goodbye.
If only I knew more about her. Where is she from? Does she have any other family members that care about her? Who are her closest friends? Literally anyone I could inform about her condition.
She needs help. But if she wanted it, she would ask for it, right?
God, does she know she needs help? She for sure does. I mean, someone doesn’t just want to die for funsies, right?
The next page is the beginning of a letter. One of the letters she mentioned before. It reads “Dear Ana,” I wonder who Ana is. Maybe her roommate. Does she live at the dorms? Maybe Ana is her best friend. No, that was Summer. Or Winter? I don’t care, it was a season.
Maybe Ana is her sister. I have no idea who Ana is, but she must be close if she is getting a letter.
I try to stop myself from reading any further. This is private. I shouldn’t read it. It’s not meant for my eyes.
But Lily needs help.
Instead of reading it myself, perhaps I should hand this notebook over to the counselor. What do I do?
Dear Ana,
I am so sorry.
I am sorry that I never gave you a chance to be more to me.
Dad told me you always wanted a big sister. You always wanted a sister that would help you out, give you great advice when it comes to boys. Teach you how to do makeup when you’re old enough. You wanted me.
But I didn’t want you.
That sounds awful, I know.
I have to be honest with you, Ana. I hated you. For as long as I can remember
I wanted you gone, because you had what I didn’t;
My father.
You got to see him daily. You got to have a loving father that would protect you, love you, be there for you. But he was my father too, you know.
My brother got to experience it along with you. But I didn’t.
I couldn’t hate him for that, but I could hate you. Because you weren’t my family.
Dad isn’t your father, not biologically at least. But he is mine. And yet, you still got more of him than I did.
I was so jealous. I think I still am.
But it’s time that I forgive you for getting what was mine. It’s not like you had any say in it anyway.
Ana, I want you to know that all my hatred never had anything to do with you. I feel awful for letting it out on you.
Whenever I would visit, I never paid you any attention because you got enough from the man that was supposed to be there for me, not for someone else’s kid.
You were so young when you came to this family, you could not have known what it did to me. I knew I shouldn’t hate on you for it. But I did.
And I am so utterly sorry for it, Ana.
Maybe we get to be sisters in another life. Because, despite what I told myself all these years, I like you.
You are a part of my life. Maybe not as big as you wished you’d be, but you are. And I love you, Ana. I really do.
I loved you from the first second I saw you.
I’m sorry I couldn’t be a better sister to you. But I will make it up to you in another life. I promise.
And Ana, please don’t ever give up on your dreams. I know you can make it far. I will watch over you and protect you from this day forth. I will smile with you, laugh with you, cry with you. Be the big sister you’ve always wanted.
Too bad I can’t physically be with you for it. But I will be there. Every step you take, I will be there.
Lily
Yeah, I should not have read this.
Lily Reyes is writing her goodbyes in a notebook. In. A. Notebook. The one that she forgot here. In an arena for everyone to find.
I jump off my seat, quickly skate over the ice to the other side to get back into the locker room. I have to find her. I have to give this notebook back to her and find someone that can help her.
Standing outside of the locker room, I hear laughter coming from inside. That means some of my teammates are still around. Honestly, I thought they would all be gone by now. I have no idea how long I’ve been gone, but I assumed longer than for anyone to still be around.
“Yo! That was a short skate,” Miles says while he’s struggling to put on some pants. His hair is still damp from his shower, and I just bet he didn’t bother enough to dry off his skin before trying to slip into his pants.
Fuck it, right? “Do you know a Lily Reyes?” I ask him. Miles shrugs and shakes his head.
“Never heard of her. Is she hot, though?” I roll my eyes at his question. I’m not up for this talk right now.
“Reyes? I’ve heard that last name before,” Grey Davis—the last dude I “share a house” with—informs me. “I think she is in one of my classes.”
“Which one?”
“Not sure. I don’t pay much attention to people, you know that.” That’s true, at least in some ways. Grey isn’t much the people-person. He sure doesn’t mind being around people, but he tries to avoid them as much as possible.
“Nah, you don’t pay much attention to girls,” Miles mocks, winking at his best friend. He slaps Grey on his back, then goes to stand on the bench.
I let out a deep sigh. Whatever is about to come out of Miles’s mouth can’t be anything good.
Miles mocks people. He’s an arrogant ass and uses anything to make stupid jokes at all times. But that’s the thing with Miles. No matter how silly and immature he may be, he’s the most loyal friend anyone could get. And he would never use anything that’s no-go topic against someone.
“I have an announcement to make.” Miles holds his hand up, pretending to hold a glass when he says, “I think our team captain has a little crush. That would be a first.”
Grey pulls Miles off the bench, shaking his head disapprovingly.
“I need more information than a name, Princess,” Grey says. He raises his brows in anticipation, waiting for the ultimate description on my behalf.
Okay, maybe Miles is the one hoping for the greatest description, not Grey.
“Uh, she’s blonde and has green eyes,” I tell him. “A few freckles, and she’s cute, I guess.”
“Ah, now that narrows it down.” Grey laughs and shakes his head. “We need a little more than that, Colin. Why don’t you just call her and ask for a date already?” Just when I thought Grey would be more mature than Miles. He is, by far.
I wish I could do that. But I don’t do dates. “I don’t want her that way.” I shrug. “She forgot her notebook in the arena, I just want to give it back to her.”
“Who even writes in notebooks these days?” Miles asks, walking away from Grey and me. He is back by his locker, gathering his stuff.
“What are we talking about?” Aaron comes walking into the locker room with just a towel around his hips. He is always the last one to exit the shower room. For some reasons, he has a hard time showering with anyone else in there. Well, anyone but the three of us. Grey, Miles and me. But the other guys, he prefers to stay away from them.
I get that. Some of the guys are dicks. Kaiden Callahan once took a picture of a teammates dick and sent it to our team group chat…and possible girlfriends. It was a dick move, but Zachery didn’t take it too badly. In fact, Zac winked at Kaiden and proceeded to pose, making Kaiden take even more pictures.
Like I mentioned before, this team is…different.
“Lily Reyes,” Grey fills Aaron in. “Forgot her notebook in the arena. Our princess here wants to give it back.”
“I can do it, if you want,” Aaron offers. That’s weird. Aaron never does anything for a girl, not since his ex-girlfriend fiasco anyway. Winter, was it. God, of course. Aaron knows Lily. He was dating her best friend after all.
“It’s fine. Do you have her number so I can hit her up or something?”
Aaron furrows his eyebrows. Something about his expression screams “discomfort.” He doesn’t like the idea of me hitting her up. Maybe their relationship goes deeper than I thought. “Don’t think she would want you to have it.”
“Look, she mentioned you in our short conversation. If y’all are dating, then you can gladly give the notebook back to her, and I promise I won’t try to start things. But then you should know something,” I tell him.
To my surprise, Aaron does the very same fake gaging sound as Lily did. It catches my attention. So something did happen between them already, and neither of them is proud of it. But he also doesn’t jump onto the opportunity to find out what he’s supposed to know of.
“I take that as you guys aren’t dating,” Grey speaks for me. “So what’s your deal then. Having a crush? Long lost enemy?” That gets a snicker from me. Lily seems like she has a few of those. I mean, her not-really-sister seems to be one of those. Then again, Lily did apologize for treating her wrongly. So maybe Lily isn’t the type to make enemies.
“Nah, neither. Just not my type.”
“Marsh, if Carter thinks she is cute, she is totally your type,” says Miles, chuckling.
Aaron eyes me. Disgust is written all over his face, but there is more. Something he doesn’t want to talk about. Clearly Lily is a topic he does not like to discuss, and I respect that. But if there is some kind of relationship between them, maybe he should know about her condition. “Is she an ex-girlfriend? Someone important to you?” I ask. Aaron shakes his head and walks away from us.
He stays in the room, but I suppose he is getting cold.
“Can’t really tell you guys the deal with her. But we’re not a thing, nor will we ever be, trust me on that. But don’t you dare touch her, dude.” His voice is strict, still has the slightest amount of discomfort in it.
I shouldn’t push him any further. But to hell with that. Aaron Marsh just openly admitted on not being with her, yet he doesn’t want me touching this girl.
Something is off, and I will find out what it is.
