The moment you've all been waiting for you impatient hooligans.
Chapter 6: The One who Let it Be
The timing couldn't have been better. Thought Michael inside his own devious little head. He walked into the house, his cheeks red from the bone chilling temperatures. Even though the car and the house weren't that far away from each other, the cold of Ferndale, Michigan had came fast and furious at anybody who dared to enter the outside. Michael took history's word for it. He took off his shoes and jacket and soaked in all of the warm heating the house was filled with. Michael strutted into the kitchen, still excited about that night. He had never had a REAL plan of going out to a place that wasn't Hillside Arena, or Grant's house. He saw his mother cutting out coupons from the paper. She had noticed him walking in and smiled.
"Hi sweetie!" Mrs. Lambert said. Michael tried his best not to be a mama's boy, but he failed ever since. He was a mama's boy, and proud of it. She got up and gave him a big smooch on the forehead. Michael was in the 11th grade, he should've been old enough to just walk in and lay on the couch eating chips. But he never said much. He wants a close bond with his mom compared to the ones who fight with them all the time, "How was your day?"
"Pretty good." Michael said. Nothing really happened that day, which was good news. At least for now. He might be dead by the end of the night if Ryan found anything out.
"Listen," Mrs. Lambert said, "Me and your father are going out tonight. Can you handle yourself on your own?" Michael was beaming on the inside. She would probably disapprove him going out with some girl he recently met. Even with a lie, still would she say no due to the fact that he's been coddled his whole life. He simply nodded and said yes to his mother. She trusted him to be a good boy. Never had he did anything wrong. She gave him a kiss on the forehead and sat back down.
"What time do you think you'll be home?" Michael asked, trying not to be suspicious.
His mother sat and thought for a minute, "We're going out to dinner with some friends at 7:00, then the bar. We should be home around 10 or 11. I'll call when we're on our way home." Michael let out a sigh of relief, but made it sound like just him breathing. He never wanted his parents to walk into a house with no Michael, or worse, a house with Michael and Jackie.
He left the kitchen to go upstairs into his room. He walked in to the ultimate man cave he called it. A man cave, because he was in it a lot, and he is a male. Not much was in there except an Acer laptop, a small Sony T.V, and a lamp. It was a pretty nice lamp though, but nobody seemed to care. Better yet, nobody seemed to KNOW. His parent's were going out at 7:00, and so was he. So what? He can be a few minutes late for picking up Jackie, right? That's what he hoped. He plopped himself on his bed and turned on the T.V. He didn't have anything to do on Fridays, nor did he want to do anything on Fridays. It was 3:00. That means he had 4 hours of doing absolutely nothing. He continued to watch the news as he drifted off to sleep.
...
Ben Federick had walked into the chill rink of Hillside Arena. He had arrived right in time at 6:30 for his first day of training with "the great, 2 year experienced goalie, Grant Sullivan". The backup goaltender for the Hillside Eagles was all dressed in equipment, as he stared at the almost abandoned sight of the hockey rink. The bleacher lights were out, and all that was seen was the frozen playing field. Grant was right, nobody but one kid was there at Hillside Arena. That one kid was shooting a bunch of puck at the empty net. He was making the puck echo all across the empty arena with every shot he took. It hit the twine in the back of the net with every slap shot he took from out wide. After one last laser to the goal, he caught Ben Federick looking at him. He skated over to him, who was standing in the door of the rink that's open during open skate.
"Are you ready to protect that goal with your life?" The figure asked. It had a dead serious expression on his face and in his voice.
"Yes, Grant." Ben replied, and skated slowly to the net as he put on his goalie mask. Right when he was in position in the goal crease, Grant shot a flaming shot at his chest. Ben blocked it easy, but Grant came up with another hard snapshot from close up. Ben knocked it away to the side with his blocker. Grant was impressed.
"Nice warm-up." Grant said to the goaltender as he retrieved the puck from the side of the net, "Try this."
Grant came bolting at Ben with the puck in his possession, as he came straight at him up ice. For what Ben thought he was going to shoot to the left for a glove or leg pad save, he moved the puck the other way that left Ben Federick off guard for a goal he couldn't have possibly have gotten. He fell to his side trying for a desperation save, but as he was hoping to go left, he went right very weakly as the puck went into the net. He got up right away to Grant standing in front of him. Not disappointed, but slightly confused.
"Shouldn't you at least have some of this down by now? You've been a goalie for a while now."
"I'm sorry," Ben replied, "I do the drills and all, but I haven't played in the game for a while. I just need my groove back as all."
"Alright then," Grant said. He knew Ben was trying his hardest, so he didn't push him, "Here's what you need to do: be ready at all times when the guy is in on a breakaway. Follow the puck as fast as you can, but you can't get fooled. To do that, you need to move more slowly to the side he moves the puck on. That way, if he moves it, you'll be ready to go back to position, and if he shoots, you'll be just in the right position for a blocker or glove save."
Grant had said a lot, and to his surprise, Ben listened to every word. He crouched back down in the goal crease, as Grant came speeding up at him once more. He moved the puck left, looking to shoot, but moved it back to the right. Ben was going for the save, but there was no shot, as Grant had faked it back to the left for a shot that Ben couldn't have gotten.
"Be ready at all times," Grant said, as he bolted at the goaltender again. Lightning fast, he was out in front of the net. Ben looking to slowly move left, following the puck, moved back to the right as Grant tried to fool him. It did so happen to, as the puck never reached the right side. It bounced right off the outside of his skate, and back in scoring distance out left. Ben was again scammed by the forward, as he reached out his glove. The shot just tipped off the edge of the glove, but still made it just below the net's crossbar for a goal. Grant didn't say a word as he skated back in position with the puck moving back and forth in his stick's possession.
Focus. Ben simply thought to himself. Focus. He took a deep breath, and confidently got back in the goaltending position. Grant was racing at him, stick keeping control of the sliding puck on the ice. Straight at the goalie, he moved the puck so fast to the other side and back Ben didn't have the time to see it. He went for the shot in the top right corner, which was blocked with the blocker by Ben Federick. He smiled from the inside of his mask as Grant started again. With a few moves and a big shot, Grant Sullivan was denied another goal from the rising goaltender. He moved on to block 8 out of the 10 breakaway shots. And considering it was the best forward the team had, that was pretty good.
"You're doing well, bro." Grant said, "But the night isn't over yet for you. We still got a lot to work on."
Ben replied with a grin, "I'll be ready. You can count on that."
Michael's eyes squinted open as the rays of light lit through his lids. The sun was easily dropping low now, right in front of his window. He looked in front of him to a T.V of a picture of the Friends cast, as the show was just ending. He looked at the clock. It was 6:53 exactly. He heard the voice of the front door opening and the sound of his mother yelling from downstairs.
"Michael, we're leaving! There's some pizza in the fridge if you're hungry! Love you sweetie!" Mrs. Lambert had a very loud voice that could carry for maybe a mile if she tried. Michael heard her loud and clear every time.
"Love you, too, Ma!" He vociferated back, not as loud as her though. She heard him, and closed the door behind her. Michael got up and smelled his shirt. It was a pretty funky smell, and Jackie would probably believe that, too. He took it off, and threw on a nice American Eagle shirt. His jeans were fine, as he was just going out to a friendly dinner. He put on his Degree deodorant onto his foul smelled armpits. He was all set in a matter of minutes. He felt lucky as a guy not to be sitting hours on end getting ready for something as simple as school.
He went downstairs to put on his shoes and North Face jacket. He waited a few more minutes before he left, just in case his parents came back for anything. He sat by the front window as he gazed out on the open road of his block. It clearly snowing lightly as the day had turned to the beginning of the dark cold night. He was thinking the coast was clear, so he walked out the door in his first step of disobeying triumph. He locked it up, and walked as cool as possible to the car. He needed practice, as he was not anything near close to cool. He got inside is black Ford Fiesta (his family was wealthy, but not that good in taste. He had got the car for his 16th birthday, but he paid for half of it), put the keys in the ignition, turned it, and started the car as he drove off on Allen Road.
He had Map Quested Jackie's address at school that day from the school library. He had been anxious that whole day to see how close Jackie was to him. Michael of course didn't mean it in a creepy fashion, as much as it sounded like it. It turns out, Jackie only lived a convenient 1.5 miles away from Michael. He got on Harold Street and drove up the main road to the next few subdivisions. He turned right on Ronnie Lane into a nice neighborhood. With just a few more turns on a few more small streets, he had reached his destination of 18745 Southampton Road.
It was a nice 2 story house. Michael had parked himself on the side of the road, visible enough so that Jackie can see him right outside the front window. Right when the car stopped motion, the front door of the home opened up. Her straight bleach blond hair glistened as she walked towards the door of the car. Jackie got in with a smile on her face that seemed to never go away. No matter her feeling inside, she always looked happy on the inside.
"Hey Mike!" She said cheerfully. She looked the same as she did in school, but Michael didn't mind. He'd rather not have Ryan catch him with his girlfriend wearing a thigh high skirt and a belly and shoulder revealing shirt.
"Hey Jackie," He replied, "You look good."
"Thank you," She replied, while putting her lipstick she recently applied back in her purse. After that moment was a little of an awkward silence, as Michael drove back onto the main road.
After a minute or two of Jackie blankly looking out the window in no conversation mode, Michael turned on the radio. It took a few moments for it to start up, but the music began playing soon after.
"...Help! I need somebody! Help! Not just anybody! Help! You know I need someone..." Michael had left his burned CD of the Beatles in the radio, and was in the middle of the song. Embarrassingly, he reached for the eject button. But a hand had stopped him just before he could.
"Relax," Jackie laughed, "I love the Beatles!" Michael was again completely shocked. A girl who had actually liked his favorite band, and not criticizing on liking old music.
With eyes wide open Michael replies with a, "Seriously?"
"Yeah!" Jackie said back, "Strawberry Fields, Hey Jude, Love Me Do? I love those ones!"
"Alright, alright. Tonight I just declared you the coolest girl I've met," Michael laughed. Jackie was awesome to him. Help had just ended, as the CD moved on the next song. The tune was all too familiar to Jackie, and couldn't help but sing along.
"What would you think if I sang at a tune?" She sung in a small, but hearable voice. Michael joined along.
"Would you stand up and walk out on me?" He had done a weird deep voice to sound like Ringo a little bit. Jackie found him funny. He turned up the stereo, as Jackie sang the next line.
"Lend me your ears and I'll sing you a song,"
"And I'll try not to sing out of key," In just a few moments, Jackie and Michael had gone completely karaoke, no matter how much they sucked at harmonizing.
"Oh, I get by with a little help from my friends! Mmm, I get high with a little help from my friends! Mmm, I'm gonna try with a little help from my friends!" Jackie and Michael sang off tune as the chorus ended. They laughed as they let the Beatles sing for a bit.
"Dang boy, you are awful at singing!" Jackie laughed.
"Like you were any better?" Michael joked, "But as of tonight, I am the walrus."
"No, I'm the walrus," Jackie replied. They have been referring to John Lennon's musical piece he had performed with George, Ringo, and Paul, 'I am the Walrus'. If you knew the Beatles, you knew who the walrus was, "You can be the hippo or something."
"No, no, no, you be the hippo, I am the walrus," Michael said to Jackie. Tonight he would be the almighty walrus, roaming the earth avoiding things of Ryan the predator shark, trying to sniff the fear Michael hadn't had.
He had stopped at a stoplight, as Buffalo Wild Wings was just in sight on the corner. A grump of an old man honked repeatedly and long at the high school junior in a blue Fiesta behind him. He let down his window to see what was his problem. The man was not that big of a guy as his eyes just were seen over the top of the wheel. Angry, confused, and possibly color blind, as he thought the light was green and the "*******" in front wouldn't move. He just let him be. Don't want to flip off an angry old man. You never know; he could carry a cane that could turn into a deadly weapon.
Michael turned back into the car, when he stopped and saw a familiar face. He slowly turned to his left to a beat up white pickup truck. Worse than the pickup truck, was the man inside it.
Ryan Roberts.
