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CHAPTER TWELVE:schoolyard puck
She skates up and down the ice, her stick loosely in her hand, because when she grips it too hard, her wrist hurts.
coach bombay blows the whistle every few seconds, their sign to skate back and forth once more. after what feels like forever, charlie goes over to talk to coach. andrea can't hear what they say, but it doesn't look good. eventually, charlie dejectedly gets back to skating.
they practiced for hours, well into the night. as the team tiredly trenches back to their rooms, they mutter about how unfair and unlike himself coach bombay is acting.
"coach is out of his mind," connie says with a yawn. "we're supposed to have early lessons with miss mckay, and then he wants us to practice again? when are we supposed to sleep?"
goldberg snorts. "coach? more like captain blood."
the team was too exhausted to even muster up some laughs. "feel like i'm on the hawks again, with coach reilly." andrea mumbles, nudging adam who nods in agreement.
the team splits off as they head to their rooms, wordlessly falling onto their beds. they didn't stay long, alarms blaring early in the morning to remind them to get to class.
andrea trudges with julie and connie to meet miss mckay, her eyes closed as she lets connie guide her towards the classroom. too tired to change, andrea stays in her pajamas.
the girls were the last ones to the classroom, andrea opening her eyes briefly so she could find a seat. most of her friends are asleep in their chairs, or struggling to stay awake.
andrea plops down in a chair, laying her head on the desk as she closes her eyes. she didn't remember falling asleep, until miss mckay lightly shook her awake, a worried look adorning her face.
they didn't learn anything that class. seeing the state they were all in, their tutor sent them back to their rooms to get a real sleep.
"no time anyways," averman says. "captain blood says he have practice after class."
miss mckay sighs. "well, you need rest. don't worry about practice, just get some rest."
"but what about-" charlie tiredly protests.
"i'll talk to gordon." miss mckay promises. "if he gets mad, he can take it up with me. now go, sleep."
and sleep she does, andrea's dreams plagued by hair gel and blonde icelandic boys.
The next day, finally changed out of her sleepwear and into her tracksuit andrea finds herself with her team, stretching on one of the many fields available for competing teams to workout on.
