Any Way You Slice It by Kristine Carlson Asselin Page B

“She’s going to play with us all the time?” Without his gear on, Johnson is still huge—his abs are ripped. This kid definitely throws off the curve. He’s got to outweigh the other guys by fifty pounds of muscle. He’s leaning against the far wall and glares at me. I have no idea what’s up with him.
    Carter seems to have bounced back from his earlier embarrassment. He’s straddling the wooden bench in the middle of the room, looking comfortable. He winks at me, but he doesn’t say anything. I decide to keep my eye on Carter; aside from Jake, he might be my best ally.
    The rest of them look at me like deer caught in the headlights.
    â€œDidn’t you guys see her skate? She’s amazing. Fast.” Jake smiles encouragingly. I try not to stare. “What’s the issue? The Nashua Night Dragonshave girls.” He makes eye contact with everyone. “Anyone have a problem?”
    Some grumbling, but no one objects again.
    No one warned them. Knowing they got blindsided sucks.
    Coach clears his throat. “I’d like you all to give her our team welcome.”
    Jake gestures for them all to stand and he makes a big show of being a conductor. The guys join him and start clapping and stomping their feet in unison.
    Stomp-stomp. Clap-clap
. “The Rats are in the house!”
    â€œThe Rats are in the house,” they all respond to Jake’s call.
    â€œHeigh-ho the derry-o, the Rats are in the house!”
    I start to applaud politely, but there’s a second verse. Of course.
    â€œYou better hide the cheese.”
Stomp-stomp. Clap-clap.
    â€œYou better hide the cheese.”
    â€œHeigh-ho the derry-o, you better hide the cheese!” The stomping reaches a fever pitch and they wrap it all up with a cheer of, “Rink Rats! Rink Rats! Rink Rats!” Then they make a sort of roaring noise and throw their helmets into the air. It’s very testosterone-y.
    I laugh out loud before I realize they are totally serious. I clap enthusiastically. “That was … um … really something special.”
    Coach Walsh looks like he wants me to say something more.
    I stare at the faces. Mostly they say
I just want to get out of this smelly gear and shower
.
    â€œThanks for the warm welcome? I’m happy to be here?” They think I’m totally lying. And they’re right. I can’t wait to be out of this locker room.
    â€œDo we get free pizza now?” Mark Temple asks, dropping his pads on the floor. Temple towers over everyone else; he should play basketball instead of hockey.
    Jake rolls his eyes, but he pats Temple on the back. “These are the questions that matter, buddy.”
    Jimmy Flores says, “We already get free pizza from Tim.” He pulls at his shirt with Tim’s House of Pizza across the chest.
    â€œYeah, but Tim’s pizza sucks. Slice is the best in town.” Carter is practically salivating. “And we’re growing boys.” He points to Flores. “Especially Jimmy. He really needs the calories.”
    Figures.
    It’s always about the pizza. But it occurs to me that for the first time in years, it’s been an hour straight since I’ve thought about pizza. For some reason, that thought makes me happier than anything else.
    â€œI’ll see what I can do.”

    Later that night, I’m back at the rink, dressed from head to toe in my hockey armor. It makes me feel invincible and I raise my arms like a superhero. It’s after ten o’clock, and Jake’s promised me a crash course before the next practice. I flap my arms again and this time I feel like an idiot. I can’t believe Jake talked me into this, but honestly, he didn’t have to do much talking. No resistance from me. After practice this afternoon, I’m ready to take the plunge. And to do that, I need to know how to play. For real.
    I lean forward with my elbows on my knees. I can do this. I’ve