Great Balls of Fire

two

"You think we'll need all of our gear?" Lucy asked Grey. She was leaning against the railing of the stairs and she wanted everything to go well. This was a really hopeful plan.

Grey shrugged, making her curly locks bounce at her shoulders. "No," she replied. "I think we'll just need our skates and our sticks. And the puck, of course. And make sure to wear shorts under your skirt this time," she teased good heartedly.

Lucy smiled bashfully. "Man, I was hoping everyone had forgotten about that incident." She and her best friend giggled at the memory.

She hurried up the stairs and to the small closet in her room. She pulled out a pair of black shorts and put them on under her tan skirt. She pulled out her skates and her hockey stick. She carried them down the stairs and reunited with Greyson.

"Okay, so we go to Macie's Diner and do a whole play about skating backwards in hopes of being recruited to the hockey team?" Grey asked to clarify the plan, only letting a little bit skepticism leak into her tone. They walked out the front door.

"Yeah, exactly!" Lucy grinned. "They'll see how good we are and they won't even care that we're girls!" She bent down to pick up a puck that was discarded next to the concrete stairs that led into the house.

Greyson sucked in air through her teeth. "I don't know about this, Luce. People are going to talk, you know." She didn't really enjoy the spotlight much.

"People always talk, Grey. It's a small town. That's what small towns do. You just gotta hope," Lucy encouraged. "Just like Claudette, you know. She hoped and look at her now. She's going away to college in the fall. Somewhere in the city."

Greyson rolled her eyes. She loved Lucy. She really did. They were best friends, but sometimes all the mushiness got annoying. Lucielle Duchamp was naïve and the whole town knew it. But that made her kind of special. Greyson loved being around such a positive person, seeing as there weren't too many in Lucky Palms.

"Listen," Grey started. "I know how much this means to you, but I don't think Coach Donicci is going to change his mind—"

"So we should just quit," Lucy said harshly. She had her dramatic moments and people had to be careful of what they said. It was a teenage thing. At least that's what the family therapist said.

"No," the blonde said slowly, "what I'm saying is maybe we should practice before potentially humiliating ourselves in front of our peers."

"I thought blondes were supposed to have more fun," Lucy pouted, earning a laugh from her best friend. She had to crack a smile, after all, that did sound a little ditzy. Even for Lucielle Duchamp. "Okay, fine. Lets practice our shots in the alley."

"Good choice, Duchamp," Grey grinned as they made their way behind their dilapidating house. She set an old garbage can on its side and lined some bricks around it to make sure it stayed in place. "You know, it's kind of weird to think we're the only girls in the whole town who like sports."

"Yea, well between us, I think it makes us cool. There's nobody like us. We're like, the three musketeers minus one." Greyson raised an eyebrow at the questionable claim, but let it go. "Anyways," Lucy went on, "let's try some trick shots."

"Lets just have a good time," Grey suggested. "Kick back. We won't have much time to relax in September."

"We're still in June, though," Lucy informed her friend. "You worry too much, you know that."

Greyson sat on the ground and watched her swing her hockey stick like a baseball bat. "You can't hit a puck like a baseball," she challenged with a smirked.

"Bet I can," Luce grinned.

"How much?"

"Five dollars."

"Whoa, don't get too cocky," Grey teased. "But it's a deal."

"Okay, toss me the puck and I'll swing."

Greyson rubbed the old puck between her hands. "You've got five tries," she said and raised the puck for Lucy to look at.

She tossed it to her best friend and squinted her eyes as she swung. She missed. And that happened for the next two times.

"Alright, Luce," Grey teased. "You got two tries left, don't waste them." She tossed the puck slowly and ducked and fell when she heard a crack. Lucielle gasped and there was a howl of pain.

"Motherfuck!" a raspy voice cried.

Greyson scooted back quickly to her best friend and stood up. She examined the hockey stick. There was a small fracture in the wood, but nothing major.

The two girl's attention was caught when two boys around their age walked out from around the house behind theirs, just across the alley. One was tall and had longish brown hair. He was probably a foot taller than Greyson! The other was a few inches taller than Lucy and he was a deep tan. He was gripping his right eye and hissing in pain. His hair was short at the sides and long on top, a shade of brown only a couple of shades darker than his skin.

The taller boy was fair skinned and had hazel eyes. He looked as if he were struggling to keep a laugh in. "Hey what's the big idea?" he questioned, then jokingly said, "Nobody hired any hitmen." The tan boy elbowed his friend angrily.

Greyson let out a sheepish giggle. Funny and cute. Not a bad combo.

"I'm so, so, so sorry!" Lucy apologized profusely. "I'll go get an icepack! Grey stay here with them!"

"Wait, what? Why me—"

Before she could finish, Lucy ran into their house through the back door. Greyson instantly became nervous. She had no idea what to say.

On the other hand, the shorter boy had far too much to say. "Goddamn," he said lowly. He removed his hand from his eye, showing that the puck hit him right below his eye socket. He sat down on the old gravel.

"I'm so sorry about that, we didn't know anyone had moved into that house. Nobody's lived there for years," Grey explained solemnly. She just knew she was blushing like mad because she was really studying the tall boy. He was tough looking, but he had something about him that made you want to goof around.

The shorter boy sulked and touched the skin below his eye gingerly. The tall one rolled his eyes and grinned. "I'm Bruce Lynam," he introduced himself.

"Greyson Brandis," the blonde girl smiled coyly.

Suddenly Lucy ran through the back door with a blue ice pack. She panted and tried to catch her breath as she handed the pack to the tan boy. "H-Here. I'm so sorry," she said.

The boy looked her up and down and smirked, making a deep dimple appear in his left cheek. "Thanks." Lucy smirked.

Grey cleared her throats and said, "Lucy, Bruce Lynam. Bruce, Lucielle Duchamp."

They smiled at each other and the tan boy said, "And I'm Rio."