Icing on the Lake (12 page)

I’d put it back on after I changed clothes, because I didn’t have a good place to set it. Then I’d forgotten all about it. “Oh. Oops.” I reached up and started to take off the tiara, but then I thought better of it. Maybe everyone would treat me like a princess if I acted like one. “Actually, yes.”

“Okay…” he said slowly.

“I think I’m going outside to watch,” I announced.

“You don’t have to.” Conor pointed to the video screens around the lounge. Tons of other people were hanging inside and watching by camera. “I mean, if you don’t want to put your
hat on over your tiara.”

“That could be lumpy. I don’t know. I should go find Sean, though,” I said.

“Found him.” Conor pointed to a large video screen on the wall. Sean was cruising down the mountain on a mattress decorated to look like an MTV Spring Break party, complete with girls in bikinis and guys in shorts, dancing in his jeans and T-shirt.

“Oh. Well, that looks like fun. Sort of.” As long as I didn’t look at the bikini-clad girls getting really close to Sean.

Conor shook his head. “He’ll do anything for attention.”

I turned to him. “Okay. I have a question. Do you guys really not get along, or is it all an act? I mean, I don’t get it, Conor.”

“It’s kind of a long story. I’ll buy you a coffee,” he offered.

We settled onto a couple of stools at the bar, and I ordered a mocha while Conor got a plain black coffee.

“Okay.” Conor sighed. “It’s stupid.”

“So tell me how stupid,” I insisted as I checked out the big-screen TV on the wall.
Fortunately Sean wasn’t on screen anymore.

“I quit the hockey team last year and he’s still mad at me about it, because they lost in the tournament.”

“You quit?” I asked. “I thought you didn’t make the team.”

“No, that’s true, too. I didn’t make it this year—this fall,” Conor said. “I wanted to get back on the team, but the coach didn’t want me back. I guess I can’t really blame him. He didn’t trust me.”

“Why not? When did you quit?” I took a sip of the café mocha.

“Just before the tournament.”

“No. Why would you do that?”

“Yeah, I know, believe me, I’ve had tons of time to think about what a dumb move that was. It was impulsive. It was awful of me to do that to those guys. But I couldn’t stand them anymore. They’re egomaniacs.”

“Come on. We have star hockey players at our school, too. They’re nice, mostly.”

“I know, I know. It’s not like the norm—I’m not saying that. It’s just, at our school, Sean and his buds are the jocks you have to
follow around and bow down to and it’s just—you know, it’s crap.”

I laughed. “Crap?”

“Yes. The things they do when they’re off the ice, I don’t know, I guess it’s all part of high school. And I basically hate high school right now.”

“Why?”

“Because. It’s so fake. It’s so competitive. I hate cliques,” Conor said.

“Oh. Is that all?” I asked.

Conor frowned. “You don’t know what it’s like to be compared to Sean all the time.”

“No, I don’t. I mean, that would be weird, right?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood. “For one thing, he’s taller. For another, he’s a guy.”

He didn’t smile.

“Maybe it sucks to have a star for a brother. But you’re just as talented as he is, right? You’re a great goalie. Even Sean said that.”

“He did?” Conor seemed surprised, as if he didn’t expect Sean to be able to say one nice thing about him. Even if that were true, in reverse. “Yeah. Well, goalies don’t have the same star power,” he said. “We have great speed, great
reactions, great hand-eye coordination. But no groupies.”

I smiled, thinking of how when I’d asked Sean about that brown-haired girl being a groupie, he hadn’t seemed to know what that meant. “You know what? I tried hockey once,” I said.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Field hockey. In PE class. Hated it,” I said. “Broke my best friend’s finger, too.”

“How’d you manage that?”

“I hit her with the ball,” I said. “I was, I don’t know, taking a slap shot I guess. And the ball hit her stick and instead of stopping it, she somehow let it run up the stick and jam her finger dead-on.”

“That’s hilarious,” Conor said. “You flattened her finger enough to break it?”

“She was cursing so loudly that we both got detention for a week. But that’s Jones. You know, Jones. The
girl
,” I said.

His face turned slightly pink. “So, what position did you play in field hockey?”

“I don’t remember exactly. Fullback, maybe? I was supposed to stop people from getting to
the goal. Yeah, that was it. Fullback.”

He was just looking at me.

“I didn’t stop anyone,” I said. “The goalie hated me.”

“Well. Don’t worry. Not all goalies hate you,” he said.

We exchanged this really awkward smile.

“Well, good,” I said. “I guess.”

About an hour later, Sean and I were sitting in front of one of the fireplaces in the lodge. We were snuggled together on a sofa, and I was leaning back against him.

Forget about coffee. We’d moved on to hot chocolate. We’d moved on to getting whipped cream on our lips and kissing it off, and other disgusting public displays of affection like that.

“So you like this kind of stuff. Right?” I asked Sean, looking up at him over my shoulder.

“This kind?” Sean snuggled closer to me and kissed my neck. “Yeah.”

“No, I mean…I meant…” It was hard to concentrate when he was doing that. “Ski trips and skiing and trips and stuff.”

“Of course,” Sean said, running his hand down my arm, tracing the stripe on my sweater sleeve. “Winter Carnival is coming, you know?”

I nodded. “I’m really looking forward to it. My friends are coming back to visit then.”

“Well, there’s this big party at my friend’s house, over in St. Paul every year during Winter Carnival. It’s called the Snow Ball. It’s a formal,” Sean explained. “It’s a little over the top—like you’re forced to dress up—but they usually have a band, and great food, and lots of kids from school go.”

“Uh, is it always called the Snow Ball?” I asked.

“As far as I know. Anyway, it’s over in St. Paul, in a huge house on Summit. Like, a mansion. So. It would be really cool if you’d go with me.”

“Sure,” I said. “I’d love to! But, uh, I was about to ask you something. So how about…well, I’ll make you a deal.”

“Oh, yeah?” Sean asked. “What kind of deal?”

“I’ll go to the Snow Ball with you, if you’ll
come away for Groundhog Day weekend with me.”

“Come away for the weekend? Where?” He seemed really nervous all of a sudden.

“Look, relax, it’s no big deal. I’m not talking about you coming to meet my parents or anything.” I laughed. “It’s a ski weekend with my friends—a bunch of us are renting a big cabin up north.”

“Oh. Well, that sounds cool. Yeah. I think I could probably go. I’ll have to make sure I don’t have a game or anything. I might have a game.”

How many times was he going to say that? “Of course, right. I didn’t think of that. Well, you can at least come for part of the weekend. It’s a long weekend because there’s a school holiday and…”
And it’s the least you could do for me, considering I went sliding down a hill as a tartedup Snow White for you!
I thought.

“So, you will come, right?” I pressed Sean.

“Definitely. As long as I don’t have to be here for hockey.”

Suddenly Conor was standing in front of us, blocking our view of the fire, blocking the entire
fireplace, blocking the
sun
even. “Let’s get going,” he said. “I have to get to work.”

And even though Sean and I protested for about three minutes, it was useless, and ten minutes later we were heading back to the Cities together, jammed into the pickup all over again.

“O
kay, I did it!” I told Jones when she answered the phone later that night. “I officially have a date for Groundhog Getaway. At least I think I do.”

“Yes! That’s awesome,” she said. “Who with?”

“Sean, who do you think?” I said. I described the strange chain of events that had led to the invitations on both sides.

“Snow White, huh? You know what? If I were you, Snow, I’d have a back-up plan,” Jones said.

“What?” I asked. “Why would you say that?”

“The guy sounds a little flaky to me. He just asked you to this dance that’s, like, in two weeks. I’m just wondering—all that stuff you told me about whether he might have a game or not.
What about that brother of his? Didn’t he get cut from the team, and therefore has no game? Which isn’t to say that he doesn’t have game. He’s got game.”

I laughed.

“In fact, if you’re not going to ask him to Groundhog Getaway, then maybe I will,” Jones mused.

“What? No way!” I said.

“Why not?”

“Because. You don’t even know him,” I said.

“So? You know him,” she pointed out. “And even though you don’t like him sometimes, he does make you laugh. I saw you laughing that one time. And what better date could there be for an entire weekend, but someone who can really make it fun—”

“Jones?” I interrupted. “You’re really getting carried away with this,” I said. “You’re not asking Conor.”

“I’m not?”

“No!” I said, my reaction a little stronger than I expected.

“And why not?” Jones said.

“Because!” Wasn’t it obvious? “I’m…I’m
bringing Sean. And they don’t get along very well, so it wouldn’t work.”

“Oh. Well, okay. Geez, Kirst. I was only
joking
. You really flew off the handle there for a second.”

“Sorry,” I said. “I’m—I guess I’m excited about going and it’s just coming out wrong.”

“Okay. So Conor’s out. No problem. Who else have you met down there? Anyone who looks like Topher?”

We both started to laugh, and I had time to think about why I’d just reacted that way. I liked Conor, sort of; so why
couldn’t
he go with Jones? Wouldn’t they make a good couple, sort of?

What was my sort-of problem?

It was almost like I was more interested in taking Conor to the cabin with me, than Sean. But that didn’t make any sense. Sean was the one I had chemistry with; the one I’d kissed; the one who’d pursued me ever since I got to town, and vice versa.

I didn’t want to go out with Conor instead of Sean. I just didn’t want anyone else to go out with Conor, either.

I couldn’t wait to see Sean. That’s what I was thinking as I marched to the rink at the lake a few days later. Bear was pulling me at top speed, and I didn’t care—I wanted to sprint down there. I was half-running, half-walking.

I’d called Sean’s house, and his mother told me he’d be at the lake after school.

When I got there, the ice was nearly empty. Hardly anyone else was crazy enough to be out on a day like this. It was like negative thirteen degrees and windy.

I went into the warm-up room and shivered by the heating vent for a few minutes. A few moms with young kids were inside, trying to warm up by sipping hot chocolate from Thermoses.

When Conor opened the door to the building, we both totally flinched. He obviously hadn’t been expecting to see me, and vice versa. I hadn’t seen him since the day of the Snow White escapade, when we’d had a semi-normal time together, talking.

“Hey. What’s up?” I asked.

“Not much,” he said, hopping up onto the
table and dropping his duffel bag onto the floor. He was dressed in full goalie gear, except for the leg pads, which he started to fasten now as he talked to me.

“Nice day out,” I commented. “If you like ice cubes.”

“Oh, yah. Super,” he said, imitating a heavy Minnesotan accent. “Sorry, my grandfather came over for breakfast this morning. He thinks everything is super. Super, ya. You busted out your knee tending goal last night, then. Super.”

“You betcha?” I asked.

He grinned. “Exactly.”

“I hate that stereotype, but sometimes it’s just true, right?” He nodded. “So, did you bust your knee?” I looked at his legs, and he didn’t seem to have any bandages.

“No, my knee’s fine,” Conor said. “It should be in great shape by the time baseball season starts.”

“You play baseball?” I asked. “What position?”

“Catcher,” he said.

“Cool. I’m on the softball team,” I said. “I play first base.”

“No kidding. I wouldn’t have guessed,” he said.

“Why not?”

“’Cause I’m stupid, I guess. I thought maybe Sean would have mentioned it.”

“He, um, never asked either, but I think I told him,” I said. “Sean around, by any chance?” I finally asked, in as casual a tone as I could muster.

“Yeah, he’s out there.”

“Oh, good,” I said, just as I heard Bear bark a few times. “And Bear needs me, so…I’ll see you out there, okay?” Outside, I stopped to rub Bear behind the ears. I unclipped his leash from the bench where I’d tied it, and we started to walk over toward the rink where Sean and some other guys were practicing by taking shots on goal.

Bear lunged forward, pulling me with him. Sean noticed me then, and waved with his hockey stick. He started to skate over toward us, and Bear started to run toward him, dragging me onto the ice.

My feet went out from under me, and I fell
backward. I slammed onto the ice, the back of my head hitting it kind of hard.

As I sat up, embarrassed, I thought I saw a few stars floating around my head, the way they do when you stand up too quickly.

Sean came up and his skates sprayed me with ice shavings as he came to a stylish stop right in front of me. Conor, of course, was already there, and Bear was running in circles around me and barking, to attract even
more
attention.

Conor took one of my arms, while Sean took the other to help me to my feet. “Hey, Kirsten! You okay?” Sean asked.

“Oh, yeah. Fine,” I said as I brushed a little snow off my jeans.

“You’re okay? You sure?” Conor asked, touching my elbow.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

I know they both talked to me for a few minutes after that, but the next five minutes were actually sort of a blur. More guys showed up to play, and I stood there watching the game for a while, but then I realized not only was I cold, my head was starting to hurt from where I’d
whacked it on the ice, and I didn’t really care about hockey right now, or who won or lost the game.

As I was walking home, Conor pulled up beside me in that old pickup of his. “Kirsten? You want a ride?” he asked.

“I’m almost there,” I said.

“Well, actually…you’re not quite there. You’re a little off course. I’ve been looking all over for you for the past twenty minutes.”

“Oh.” No wonder Bear had been trying to drag me in the other direction. He knew the way back to Gretchen’s better than I did.

Conor got out of the truck and he was still in his hockey gear, all his pads. He had socks on but no shoes, and his goalie mask was sitting on the dashboard.

“Don’t you have to get back to the game?” I asked as he helped me into the passenger seat. Bear hopped onto my lap, which wasn’t exactly an easy fit. He weighs about eighty pounds. If my head wasn’t hurting, my legs would soon.

“No. I mean, the guys might think so, but it’s not that important to me right now. I’m kind of
more worried about you,” Conor said.

“I’m fine,” I said.

“I don’t know if you are,” he said. “Anyway I have a history of ditching, so people pretty much expect it of me at this point.” He smiled as he pulled into our driveway.

Bear and I got out of the truck and I pulled the house keys out of my pocket. I unlocked the front door and walked into the house. Conor was following right behind me.

“So are you really feeling okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. I have a headache, but…”

“I’m kind of worried you might have a concussion,” he said. “Maybe I should take you to the doctor.”

“What? Are you crazy?” I asked. “I’m fine. Really.”

“Well, I don’t want to leave you here alone,” he said.

“Gretchen’s around here somewhere. She hardly ever leaves. Unless I want to leave, and then she’s gone, history, see you,” I muttered.

“Gretchen!” Conor called around the house, and his deep voice startled me.

“Where is Gretchen?” I muttered. “Oh, yeah.
Brett’s at a friend’s house, and Gretchen went out with her friends. She said she’d be back late. Ish.”

“Ish? Do you feel nauseous?” he asked. “Should I get you to the bathroom—grab a trashcan?”

“No. Late-ish, she said.”

“Oh.” He laughed. “Okay, well, why don’t you sit on the sofa. I’ll get you a glass of water.” He turned on the fireplace and went to the kitchen.

“So. Your name and date of birth are?” he asked as he returned.

“Come on, I’m not that out of it.” I watched the flames dance in the fake fireplace.

“Still. Just tell me,” Conor urged. “And drink some of this.” He handed me the water glass.

“Kirsten. And I’m a Virgo.” I took a sip of the ice cold water and shivered. “Couldn’t you bring me room-temp water at least? You make a terrible nurse.”

Conor frowned. “Okay. You seem coherent. You definitely seem like yourself. Are you sleepy at all?” Conor asked, crouching down in front of me.

I shook my head. “No.”

“You didn’t seem like you suffered a loss of consciousness…. Then again, you weren’t exactly sure where you were when I picked you up.” Conor gazed into my eyes. “But that happened the other night, too, when you were coming home after going sledding, and you didn’t hit your head then. Or did you?”

“Do you have to insult me while I’m sitting here feeling a major headache coming on?” I grabbed my purse, which I’d left on the sofa earlier that day. “Which reminds me, I have some ibuprofen in here.”

“Don’t take anything yet. Hold on. I’m trying to remember all the things I should check,” Conor said, tapping his fingers against my knees.

“Check?” I asked.

“For a concussion. Okay, a couple more things. Are you vomiting? No, you’re not. Okay, I have to check your pupils,” he said. “First I want to make sure they’re both dilated the same amount—the same width. Look at me.”

He was leaning close to me, staring into my eyes, when the front door flew open. We jumped
back as Sean rushed in, panting and out of breath.

“I’m making sure she didn’t hit her head too hard. Ruling out a concussion,” Conor said.

“What are you, a doctor? You don’t know anything about that!” Sean said.

“Yes, I do,” Conor said. “Who do you think got a concussion once? Not you—me.”

Was it me, or was this competition a little insane, when it came down to arguing over who had the most skull fractures?

“You’re full of it.” Sean sat on the sofa beside me and put his arm around my shoulders. “How are you feeling?” He gave me a little squeeze. “You okay?”

Conor pulled the fleece throw over my legs.

“You can go now,” Sean said.

“I want to make sure she’s okay,” Conor said.

“I’ll look after her,” Sean said. He got up and followed Conor to the door. I could hear them arguing, but I was starting to get a headache, so I just leaned back against the pillows and relaxed. The door closed, and I assumed Conor was gone.

“How’s it going?” Sean asked.

I wasn’t sure if I was still seeing things. There was a hazy light. “Hey,” I said.

“You okay? Really?”

“Yeah, well. I should probably borrow Brett’s helmet next time I try to take Bear down to the rink.”

“Ouch.”

“But other than that, I’m fine.”

“Good.” He took off his hat and rubbed his head, making his hair do that cute static-y thing. “I kind of have some bad news for you, though. Something I forgot to tell you.”

“What. You can’t go skiing that weekend?” I sat up so quickly that I did actually feel dizzy for a moment or two.

“What weekend?”

“Sean!” I threw the fleece blanket toward him. “I told you a hundred times, Groundhog Day weekend—”

“I know, I know! Sorry. I just forgot for a second there.”

“You did check to see if you can come. Right?”

He nodded, handing the blanket back to me. “But I have to tell you I’m not completely sure
yet. Because Coach keeps changing our schedule around, and we might have this game scheduled with a college JV team that day, but hopefully not. Anyway, the bad news I had to tell you is that…I’m not going to see you anymore—”

“What?” How much bad news did he expect me to take in one sitting?

“This week,” he finished the sentence. “I’m going away for four or five days, to North Dakota for a hockey camp thing and a tournament. We’re leaving tomorrow, actually.”

“Oh. Is that all?” I leaned back on the pillows with a contented sigh. He still wasn’t completely sure about the Groundhog Getaway, but what was more important, really? The fact he was here with me now, or the fact I could bring him to meet all my friends?

Wait a second. That was a tough call.

Sean smiled and snuggled close to me on the sofa. “So I’ll see you when I get back. It should be a couple days before the Snow Ball,” he said.

“Speaking of which. What should I wear?” I asked.

“You know that habit you have of not wearing enough clothes or layers? Go with that.” He grinned at me.

“Okay, but I’m not wearing the Snow White costume,” I replied.