𝓜𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽𝔂 𝓓𝓾𝓬𝓴𝓼 𝓘𝓶𝓪𝓰𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓼

Dean Portman

Warming up with her team on the ice, the opposing team warmed up as well. There was one player who seemed to be loud and rough, well, there was two of them like that. It was the Junior Goodwill Games and it was competition time, the teams were coming down to the last few. With Iceland, USA, and France . France had just beat Russia and everyone in the competition had one life left. Iceland was on their way to victory, even if the three teams remaining had the same lives and great amount of victories.

Skating back and forth from center ice to the boards, France had speed and they worked together. None of them were out of line, everything seemed to be perfect and on point. France's coach had blown the whistle to get their players in before the game started. USA had put out their six players and the rest took their seat on the bench.

Aimée (Amy) Garnier approached center ice as well, coming to wing, where Guy Germaine was. Dean  Portman glanced at the girl from where he stood next to Fulton. USA had put their strongest players out on the ice first, all six players were male and France had five males and a female. As the referee approached, he looked at both kids before speaking. "Good luck, don't play rough." He nods to them both. France's center nods, as well as Adam Banks. 

When the puck dropped, France won off the bat and passed the puck over to their right wing. Aimée skated off down the ice with her teammates and the opposing team members. Goldberg watching between players to see where the puck was. "Ici!" Aimée hollered with a hand in the air. She dropped it when her teammates passed the puck out to her.

Portman smirked, the girl was small and sneaky, he knew one hard blow from him would take her out for a good five or so minutes. The only issue was that Portman needed to catch her first if Luis didn't get there first.

With the puck in her possession, she skated around Adam Banks and slipped by the boards with her teammate crashed Fulton into the boards. With a sigh of relief, she gazed to the net at the overweight player who was a pretty good player, somehow, from what Aimée thought. "Non!" She hollered, unable to get to the net. "Jacques! (Jack!)" 

She passed the puck away, Portman looking around for her after he lowered and flipped one of France's players. Jacques took the puck off, standing around the net, he passed it away to someone else, they were trying to set up a play. "Aimée! Au filet!" The boy yelled, she cut in front of the net and the puck was slid over to her where she scored the first goal of the game. Hollering with her teammates, she smiled with them.

"Aimée, prend le face off." Her coach spoke.

Coming to face off, Aimée took it like she was told, when the whistled, Portman had come up and shoved her before Adam even had a chance to win the puck over. She was knocked onto her back on the ice and she winced at the pain and stared up at the ceiling. The ref called, sending Portman off the ice for his behavior and Aimée took a seat on the bench to relax for a little before going back on the ice. 

By the end of the game, USA had won by one point and France skated off the ice. Walking around the halls as France carried their bags, since they made third in the Games. Aimée walked with her teammates, carrying her heavy bag as her back ached from the hit she took during the game. USA was also leaving their locker room and France came to a half when a few of their players exited in front of them, blocking them from continuing down the hall.

Dean noticed the girl from France, and her teammates, he was wanting to apologize for his actions, even if she still scored more goals throughout the game. He didn't mean to hit her that hard, but it happened and he was punished for it. "Hey," Dean started, giving them a wave. 

Aimée furrowed her brows in curiosity, her and her teammates replying. "Hi." Their accents thick and french. Some of the USA players smiled or laughed at their funny and non american accents.

"I didn't mean to shove ya that hard during the game." 

Aimée had no idea what the boy was saying, she was french, not English and knew few words. Her teammate, Jacques, knew some English and heard what the boy said. "Il dit qu'il ne voulait pas to pousser si fort qu'il a durant le jeu. (He said he didn't meant to push you that hard in the game.) " Jacques translated. "Je ne pense pas qu'il est ci apologétique. (I don't think he's that apologetic.)"

"Moi aussi. Dit que c'est une jeu et c'est comment le jeu est jouer. (Me too. Tell him its a game and that's how it's played.) "

Jacques cleared his throat. "She don't speak English. She says it's a game and that's how the game is played."

"Oh." Dean nods.

"Il dit 'oh'. (He says 'oh'.)" 

"Je l'sais. (I know.)" She shoved her teammate aside. "Hockey is a game. You people played well." She spoke. "Have good day."

"You too." Charlie gave them a smile, nodding for his teammates to keep going.

France had packed their bags and headed back. That was the last time USA had seen France, and Dean had seen Aimée.