The Hockey Captain's Breaking Point

1. Jamie

Jamie

Fifteen years ago…

“Jamie, honey, will you come set the table for me? They’re going to be here soon!” my mom calls from the kitchen.

Abandoning my toy cars on the rug where I was racing them around the printed roads, I sprint from my room in our small, two-bedroom apartment.

“Who’s coming here, again?” I ask her, my socks on the tile causing me to skid into the cabinet next to where she’s tossing a salad.

“Careful, honey. What did I tell you about running in the house? It’s my friend, Tom, I was telling you about, remember? And he’s bringing his daughter, Maya, to meet you.”

“I don’t know about that, Mom. I don’t think a girl can be my friend.”

Mom laughs, setting the food out on our small dining table. “I’m sure you two will find something you both like. Now, grab four forks, please,” she instructs.

Just as we finish setting the table, a knock sounds at the door. Mom goes to answer it, and I peek around the corner of the kitchen to get a first glimpse at our visitors.

A tall man, with light skin, brown hair, and a beard, walks in, giving my mom a big hug. He smiles at her, and he looks really nice.

My eyes catch on the small figure standing shyly behind him. A little girl with curly blonde hair, wearing a pink sweater and polka-dot pants with a big bow on her head.

Mom squats down, introducing herself to the girl. Whatever she says causes the girl to smile sweetly, and I feel my own mouth start to tug up in a grin. She looks nice, too.

“Jamie, come here, hon. Come meet Maya and Tom,” Mom calls down the hall.

Emerging from my hiding spot, I make my way toward the strangers. I’ve never been the most outgoing kid, but I’m not necessarily shy, either. I’m just careful about who I talk to, and Mom says that’s not a bad thing.

Tom squats down to talk to me on my level, the same way Mom did with Maya.

“Hey there, kiddo” he says, holding his hand out for me to shake. “I’m Tom. Thanks for letting us come hang out tonight.” He smiles at me, and the corners of his eyes wrinkle up.

Reaching out, I take his hand, shaking it as I say, “I’m Jameson, but my mom calls me Jamie. You can call me Jamie, too, if you want.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Jamie. This is my daughter, Maya.” He gestures for her to step forward and join the conversation. “I think she’s about your age. You’re eight, right?”

“Yeah, that’s right. I’ll be nine soon.”

“In seven months,” my mom corrects with a laugh and an amused glance to Tom. I just shrug.

“Well, Maya’s seven, but she’ll be eight in July. Say hi, sweetheart.” Tom rests a hand lightly on her back, bringing her into our small huddle.

“Hi,” Maya says, just as shy as she was before.

I hold out my hand to her, mimicking her dad’s actions, trying to show that I’m nice as well. “Hi, I’m Jamie. I like your freckles.” I try not to sound too excited, but Mom told me that complimenting people can make them feel better, and I don’t want her to be scared all through dinner.

Maya grins at me, showing off a missing tooth. “Thank you.”

“Hey, that’s cool, you lost a tooth! I lost one a little while ago. The Tooth Fairy brought me a dollar.”

“I got two dollars for this one! It was only my second loose tooth. But this one’s getting loose, too.” She wiggles another tooth with her tongue, and I laugh.

“Okay, kids, let’s take this conversation to the dinner table. I’m starving,” Mom says, guiding the four of us back to the kitchen.

* * *

Maya’s lying on her stomach on the floor of her room, drawing in a sketch pad, when I walk in. She barely looks up at me, not breaking focus on her work.

“What are you drawing?” I ask, sitting criss-cross beside her.

“A puppy,” she replies, coloring with a brown crayon.

“It looks like a bear,” I say, studying the image.

“It’s not a bear, Jamie!” she says, slamming the crayon down.

“Okay, okay,” I say, scooting away from her. I didn’t mean to make her mad at me.

After the initial excitement wore off, Maya and I took a while to warm up to one another, and we’re still having some growing pains.

Our parents have been seeing each other for a few months, but Maya goes to her mom’s house a lot of the time, and my mom calls a babysitter for me.

The two of us haven’t spent a whole lot of time together one-on-one.

“Can I draw with you?” I ask, looking around her room. I’ve been here before, and I know there are no toys I want to play with, just dolls and girl stuff.

“I guess. But don’t break my crayons,” she warns, ripping me out a fresh sheet of paper.

We draw comfortably in silence, but eventually get bored and start a game of tic-tac-toe. Then we make up a game where one of us draws something, and the other has to guess what it is. Some of our drawings and guesses are so ridiculous, we end up laughing so hard we can’t speak.

“No! It’s an alien, and he’s delivering a pizza!” I exclaim, trying to defend my doodle.

“Jamie, his head looks like a potato!” Maya retorts, rolling on the floor holding her stomach, laughing.

“It sounds like there’s way too much fun going on in here!” Tom says, appearing in the doorway.

“Daddy! Look at what Jamie drew. What do you think it is?”

“Hmm,” Tom contemplates, scratching his beard. “Is it a fat bumblebee trying to throw a frisbee?” he finally says, throwing us into a fit of giggles all over again.

* * *

“Happy birthday, Jamie!” Maya calls, running across the arcade to the large table where my friends from school and I are standing.

“Thanks!” I say as she catches her breath, holding out a gift bag to me.

“Here. Me and my dad got you this!”

“I think Jamie has to wait to open his presents until after we eat,” Tom says, walking up behind Maya, accompanied by my mom who met them at the door.

“That’s right,” Mom agrees.

Tom sets two heaping buckets of tokens down on the table, and all of us kids gravitate toward them with restless excitement.

“Back up, you little heathens. Here, Jamie, you get the first scoop.” Tom gathers a handful of the gold coins and dumps them in a small cup, handing it to me. He repeats the process with all my friends.

“Okay,” my mom begins, addressing the group. “Rules first. No running. No fighting. And have fun!”

The five boys around me—plus Maya—all scream in excitement and break the first rule by running toward the games.

My friends and I speed around, jumping from game to game.

After a little while of playing, I notice Maya’s at a Skee-ball game all by herself.

I realize she’s probably been playing alone the whole time I’ve been with my friends, and I feel bad.

I like Maya, and I don’t want her to be lonely even though she’s the only girl here.

Running over, I claim the game next to hers and put in a token.

“I bet I can get a higher score than you,” I say, grinning from ear to ear when she shoots me a disbelieving grin.

“You’re on!”

A while later, Mom calls for us to come eat, have cookie cake, and open presents. Maya and Tom got me a really cool remote control car that Mom won’t let me open in the arcade.

“Mom, can we play laser tag before we leave?” I beg after I’ve opened all my gifts. We’ve used up all our game tokens and used our tickets to buy prizes from the counter.

Mom frowns. “I don’t know, Jamie. We didn’t book the laser tag room…”

“Please, Ms. Jamie’s Mom?” one of my friends, Drew, asks.

Mom looks to Tom with a sad expression. But then Tom says, “I’ll get it, don’t worry about it. Let me go make sure it’s available to play right now.” He squeezes her hand before getting up and walking to the front desk.

Another hour and two games of laser tag later, Mom ushers me to the car, sweaty, sleepy, and smiling.

* * *

Maya

Fourteen years ago…

“Maya! I’m not telling you again! Come down here, we have to leave!” Dad calls from the bottom of the stairs.

“I don’t want to! I’m still mad at him!” I call back, grumbling to myself as I slip on my shoes.

“I don’t care if you’re mad, we’re going to Jamie’s game and that’s final! It’s the tournament and we’re going to support him.”

The other day, we were riding our bikes to the park in my neighborhood, and we ran into one of Jamie’s friends from school.

When he asked why Jamie was hanging out with a girl, Jamie told him that I “wasn’t really a friend, more like a little sister.”

They continued to ride around, trying to do tricks on their bikes while I sat on the swing set and sulked.

Jamie’s comment hurt my feelings. I thought we were friends. When I told my dad about it, he said sometimes people say things they don’t mean when they’re stressed or embarrassed. When I asked why Jamie would be embarrassed of me, my dad only said I needed to talk to Jamie to know how he feels.

But I don’t want to talk to Jamie. I don’t want him to say we aren’t friends again. To me, Jamie’s my best friend. He’s my favorite person, and I thought I was his.

I slink down the stairs, my dad glaring at me the entire way. “Come on, Bug. You know he didn’t mean it like that. Jamie is your friend; you can’t stay mad at him forever.”

“Yes, I can,” I reply, voice stern.

“Lucinda saved us a couple of seats,” Dad says as we walk into the ice rink. “Do you see her?”

I glance around the stands, finally spotting Jamie’s mom. “There!” I take off running to her, stopping before I crash into her seat. “Hi, Lucinda!”

“Hi, Maya!” she responds, smiling when she sees me and squeezing me in a big hug.

Lucinda has been my dad’s girlfriend for a year, and she’s the sweetest person in the whole world.

She always brings me treats she’s baked when she comes over, and she’s always happy to see me.

She smiles all the time, and she’s so beautiful.

Her black hair goes all the way down to her hips, and I wish my hair would grow that long.

“Hey, sweetheart,” my dad says, finally catching up to me, bending down to kiss Lucinda on the cheek.

My dad is one of the assistant hockey coaches at the college in town, so that means he takes hockey very seriously. He even got Jamie into playing this past year, and Jamie is actually very good. My dad says he’s a “natural” and they practice together all the time.

My dad and Lucinda, as well as the other parents in the stands, cheer and holler at the boys on the ice as the tournament game ensues.

I’ve never much cared for hockey, but it makes my dad happy, so I watch with him.

I think he wishes I had an interest in playing, but I don’t think it’s for me. I hate skating and being cold.

I’m coloring in my sketch pad when the final buzzer sounds, signaling that Jamie’s game is over. Looking up, I see that his team lost by one point, meaning they didn’t make it to the championship game. Jamie’s going to be really upset.

In the lobby of the ice rink, we wait for Jamie and the other boys to come out. One by one, the team emerges, somber looks on their faces, receiving pats on the backs from their moms and dads.

Jamie finally walks over to us, and I can tell he’s very upset. My dad pats him on the shoulder, telling him he played well for his first season, but Jamie just shrugs his hand away.

I hate it when Jamie gets upset. He never lets anything bother him, so when he’s sad, I know he must really feel awful inside.

I forget about being mad at him, walking up to my friend and giving him a hug. He doesn’t push me away.

“I’m sorry you lost your game, Jamie,” I whisper.

After a second, he squeezes me back before letting his arms drop away. “Thanks, Maya. It’s okay. I just wanted to win so bad.”

I step back from him. “I know, but it’s okay. I think you’re going to be the best hockey player in the world one day.”

After leaving the ice rink, we stopped for ice cream, and then Lucinda and Jamie came back to my house for a little while. Jamie and I decided to go play outside in the tree house, even though it’s a little cold outside. We’re sitting huddled under a blanket, letting our feet dangle when he speaks.

“I’m sorry I said we weren’t friends the other day.”

I look at him, startled. “Did my dad tell you to say that?”

Jamie scrunches his brows and shakes his head.

“No. I just felt bad, ever since I said it. I didn’t mean it.

You’re actually my best friend, Maya. I was just…

embarrassed that my best friend is a girl, I guess.

But that’s stupid.” He hesitates, like this isn’t really the reason he’d denied us being friends, but he also doesn’t look like he’s going to say anything else about it.

I’m just glad he’s apologizing and I don’t have to stay angry with him.

“It’s okay. I was mad, but you’re my best friend, too, Jamie.”

Eventually, we lay back, looking up at the stars, trying to pretend we can find constellations neither of us knows how to spot. When silence falls once more, I break it with a question that’s been on my mind a lot recently.

“Do you think our parents are going to get married?”

Jamie doesn’t respond right away, but after a moment, he whispers, “I don’t know.”

“Do you want them to?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” he repeats. “We would be like brother and sister. It’s called step-siblings.”

“I don’t want to be your sister. Brothers and sisters don’t like each other, I don’t think.”

Jamie shrugs. “I don’t want to be your brother, either. That would be weird.”

“Will we always be friends, Jamie?” I ask timidly.

“Yeah, Maya, we’ll always be friends. I promise.”