BREAKAWAY

Chapter Three

Sang's POV:

The drive to the rink on Friday seemed longer than it actually was. I could see my mother glaring at me through the mirrors, which didn't help my nerves at all.

I hate meeting new people, and this was a whole lot of new people.

We were early arriving at the rink, and I saw my mother putting on her best 'loving hockey mom' act as we walked up the ramp into reception.

She took hold of my hand, squeezing it too tightly in a reminder that she could still break my fingers if I stepped out of line.

I really needed my fingers in one piece to play hockey, and she knew that too, so I knew she wouldn't risk it, but neither would I.

I had other bones that weren't quite as necessary.

I scanned my membership card, and we headed down the stairs to the rink. I automatically started towards the changing rooms, but my mother yanked my arm hard to make me follow her to the edge of the ice where the bleachers were.

A group of boys - presumably the Blackbourne team - were playing around on the ice, hitting a hockey puck back and forth lazily with no intention of shooting or tackling, and a man in a purple shirt hung over the boards watching them, occasionally shouting advice.

Another man, wearing a dark grey suit, turned around when he heard our footsteps and walked towards us. My mother put on a simpering, too sweet smile, gripping my hand tighter as she reached out to shake his hand.

"Are you Owen?" She asked, fluttering her eyelashes a little. "I am Emily Sorenson, and this is my daughter Sang."

He nodded politely at her, and then looked down at me. He flashed me a millimetre smile as his grey eyes studied me.

It was a little bit intimidating, it felt sort of like he could see right into my soul. He scared me a little bit, but it also made me respect him.

"Please call me Mr Blackbourne." He said, reaching out a hand to shake mine. "It's nice to meet you Miss Sorenson."

I flinched a little at the first contact, but my hand settled into his for a quick shake. I gave him a small smile before quickly pulling my hand away. I could barely talk to him even if I wanted to; my throat is still burnt from the effects of the lemon juice and vinegar my mother forced down my throat two nights ago.

He turned back to my mother. "You can take a seat over there by Dr Green, Ms Sorenson, he's the man in the purple shirt.

She gave a fake, high little laugh and moved away, but not before shooting me a warning look that promised punishment if I did anything wrong.

"Be good, Sang." She said, with a hint of aggression in her voice that I thought only I could hear. I flinched before I could stop myself and her glare hardened, so I nodded quickly.

Mr Blackbourne turned to me and nodded reassuringly.

"You can go and get changed, and then we'll see what you can do." He said.

I nodded again. I felt a little bit like those bobble heads on car dashboards.

I turned round and hurried back to the changing rooms. I didn't want to take too long and make him or the team wait for me.

I put my kit on with shaking hands, making sure the long socks covered the wounds on my knees.

When I was dressed I picked up my skates and my helmet, slipping my mouth guard into my pocket and padding back along the hall to the side of the rink where I sat down to put my skates on.