6. Savannah
SAVANNAH
"Savannah McPherson?" The voice is professional, unfamiliar.
"This is she."
"This is Coach Hoyt from the hockey team. Do you have a few minutes to talk?"
My heart starts racing. "Of course."
"I reviewed your application for the student trainer position. Your background is impressive - your father's coaching experience, your internship, your academic focus. I'd like to offer you the position."
I sit up so fast I nearly fall out of bed. "Really?"
"Really. Can you start Monday? We have practice at 4 PM, and I'd like you to observe, get familiar with the team dynamics."
"Yes, absolutely. I can start Monday."
"Good. Meet me in my office at 3:30. We'll go over expectations, protocols, that sort of thing."
"Thank you so much, Coach Hoyt. I won't let you down."
"I'm sure you won't. See you Monday."
I hang up and immediately text my dad.
Me:
I got it! I got the trainer position!
Dad:
THAT'S MY GIRL! Proud of you, kiddo.
Me:
I start Monday.
Dad:
You're going to be great at this.
Jess is still asleep, so I text Colin instead.
Me:
Guess who just got the student trainer position?
Colin:
No way! That's amazing! Congratulations!
Me:
Thanks. I start Monday.
Colin:
This is perfect. Now you can make sure I'm doing my PT exercises correctly.
Me:
Among other things.
Colin:
Want to celebrate? Coffee and Bio tutoring?
Me:
Sure. Same place, 10 AM?
Colin:
See you there.
I spend the rest of the morning trying to contain my excitement and failing miserably. By the time I get to the coffee shop, I'm practically bouncing.
Colin's already there, and he grins when he sees me.
"You look happy," he says.
"I feel happy. This is exactly what I wanted."
"It's perfect. You'll be great at it."
"How can you be so sure? You've never seen me work with athletes."
"I've seen you work with me. You're patient, knowledgeable, and you actually care about people getting better."
"That's different. That's just tutoring and PT advice."
"Is it? Because from where I'm sitting, you've been doing sports medicine work with me for the past week."
He has a point. The line between tutoring, PT advice, and actual sports medicine has been pretty blurry.
"Besides," he continues, "you know hockey better than most trainers they could hire."
"How do you know that?"
"Because yesterday you explained rotator cuff inflammation to me better than Dr. Patricia did. And because you've been around the sport your whole life."
We order coffee and settle in with our Biology books. Colin's been keeping up better with the coursework since we started studying together, but he still needs help with the more complex concepts.
"Okay," I say, opening my notebook. "Tell me about enzymatic reactions."
"Enzymes speed up chemical reactions by lowering activation energy."
"Good. And what affects enzyme activity?"
"Temperature, pH, concentration..."
"Perfect. You're getting this."
"Only because you're a good teacher."
There's something in his voice that makes me look up from my notes. He's watching me with an expression I can't quite read.
"What?" I ask.
"Nothing. It's just... you light up when you talk about this stuff. Science, medicine, helping people understand things."
"I do not light up."
"You totally light up. It's nice to see someone so passionate about what they're studying."
"What about you? Are you passionate about business?"
He laughs. "Business is my backup plan. Hockey is my passion."
"Even after this week? Even with the shoulder stuff and struggling at practice?"
"Especially after this week. The shoulder thing reminded me how much I don't want to lose hockey."
"You're not going to lose hockey."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because you love it too much to give up easily. And because you're stubborn."
"I'm stubborn?"
"Very stubborn. It's actually one of your better qualities."
"Gee, thanks."
We work through a few more Biology concepts, and I notice Colin seems more relaxed than he has all week. His shoulder injury has forced him to take a break from practice, which means less stress and better sleep.
"How's the shoulder feeling?" I ask.
"Better. The anti-inflammatories are helping, and those exercises Dr. Patricia gave me are actually working."
"Good. Are you doing them twice a day like she said?"
"Yes, Mom."
"I'm serious. Consistency is important with PT."
"I know. I'm being good about it."
"Show me."
"What?"
"Show me one of the exercises. I want to make sure you're doing it correctly."
Colin looks around the coffee shop. "Here?"
"Just the range of motion stuff. Nothing dramatic."
He demonstrates a shoulder mobility exercise, and I watch his form carefully.
"You're compensating a little," I tell him. "Try to keep your shoulder blade stable and focus the movement on the joint itself."
He adjusts his technique. "Like this?"
"Better. Remember, you want to feel the stretch, but not pain."
"Got it."
"I can't believe I'm going to be doing this with the whole team on Monday."
"Nervous?"
"Terrified. What if they don't take me seriously? What if I mess up?"
"You won't mess up. And if anyone doesn't take you seriously, they're an idiot."
"Easy for you to say."
"Savannah, look at me."
I meet his eyes.
"You know more about sports medicine than half the trainers I've worked with over the years. You understand hockey. You care about helping people. That's everything you need."
"What if they ask me something I don't know?"
"Then you say you don't know and you find out. No one expects you to know everything."
"Your confidence in me is both reassuring and terrifying."
"Good. That means you care about doing well."
We finish our Biology session and pack up our books. As we're walking out together, Colin stops.
"Hey, Savannah?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm really glad you got this position."
"Because now you have someone to nag you about your PT exercises?"
"Because now I get to see you more often."
Something in the way he says it makes my stomach flutter. There's an undertone to his words that feels like more than friendship.
"You see me plenty. We study together almost every day."
"I know. But this is different."
"Different how?"
"Different because now we'll be working together. As part of the same team."
"I'm going to be working with the whole team, not just you."
"I know that too. But you'll be there, at practices and games. It'll be nice having someone in my corner who actually gets it."
"Gets what?"
"All of it. The pressure, the expectations, the way hockey can be everything and nothing at the same time."
I study his face, trying to figure out what he's really saying.
"Colin—"
"I should let you go," he says quickly. "I'm sure you have things to do."
"I do need to run some errands. Get ready for Monday."
"Right. Good luck with that."
"Thanks."
As I'm walking away, I can't shake the feeling that he was about to say something important and then changed his mind. There was a moment there, outside the coffee shop, where it felt like we were talking about more than just hockey and training.
But maybe I'm reading too much into it. Maybe I'm seeing romantic undertones because I want them to be there.
Either way, Monday is going to be interesting. My first day as a student trainer, working with the hockey team, seeing Colin in his element.
I just hope I don't make a fool of myself.
Saturday and Sunday pass in a blur of preparation. I read everything I can find about college hockey training protocols, review anatomy notes, and try on different outfits to figure out what student trainers wear.
Jess helps me pick out something professional but practical - dark jeans, a polo shirt with the university logo, and sneakers I can move in.
"You look official," she says approvingly.
"I look nervous."
"That too. But mostly official."
Monday afternoon, I show up at Coach Hoyt's office at exactly 3:25. Better early than late.
"Savannah, good to see you." He gestures for me to sit down. "Ready for this?"
"As ready as I can be."
"Good. Let me explain how this works. You'll assist our head trainer with injury assessments, equipment management, and player education. Your job is to observe, learn, and help where you can."
"Understood."
"The players know you're starting today. Some of them might test you, see if you know what you're talking about. Don't take it personally - they do it to everyone new."
"Got it."
"Any questions?"
"What should I do if someone gets injured during practice?"
"Stay calm, assess the situation, call for help if needed. The head trainer will handle anything serious, but you might deal with minor cuts, bruises, equipment adjustments."
"Okay."
"Ready to meet the team?"
My stomach flips, but I nod. "Ready."
The locker room is exactly what I expected - loud, chaotic, filled with the smell of equipment and teenage boy. Coach Hoyt introduces me to Sophie Whitaker first, a woman in her thirties who looks competent and no-nonsense.
"Welcome to the madhouse," Sophie says with a smile. "Don't let these guys intimidate you."
"I'll try not to."
Coach Hoyt calls for attention, and the room gradually quiets down.
"Gentlemen, this is Savannah McPherson, our new student trainer. She'll be working with Sophie and helping with injury prevention and treatment. I expect you to treat her with the same respect you'd show any member of our staff."
A few guys nod politely. Others are clearly sizing me up. I spot Colin in the back, and he gives me an encouraging smile.
"Any questions?" Coach Hoyt asks.
"Yeah," says a guy I don't recognize. "What's her experience?"
"Savannah grew up around hockey through her father's coaching, completed an internship in sports medicine this summer, and is studying pre-physical therapy. Any other questions?"
The room stays quiet.
"Good. Let's get on the ice."
As the team files out toward the rink, Colin hangs back.
"How you doing?" he asks quietly.
"Surviving."
"You'll be great. And if anyone gives you trouble, let me know."
"I can handle myself."
"I know you can. But the offer stands."
"Thanks."
"See you out there."
I follow Sophie to the bench area, where we set up our medical kit and clipboards. From here, I can see the entire ice surface and watch the team warm up.
"First time observing college hockey practice?" Sophie asks.
"First time observing any hockey practice in an official capacity."
"It's different when you're responsible for their health instead of just watching for fun."
She's right. Suddenly, every check looks potentially dangerous, every fall could be an injury. I find myself watching technique and body mechanics instead of just the flow of the game.
"That's Colin Grant," Sophie says, following my gaze. "He's dealing with some shoulder inflammation. He's on modified activity."
"I know. I mean, I heard about his shoulder."
"He's been doing well with the restrictions. Some players fight you on injury management, but he's been surprisingly compliant."
I watch Colin skate through drills, noting how he's protecting his right side without making it obvious. He's adapted his technique to work around the limitation, which shows both intelligence and dedication.
"He's smart about it," I observe.
"Very smart. And coachable. Those are the players who recover well."
Practice continues, and I start to relax into the rhythm of observation and note-taking. Sophie points out different players' tendencies, past injuries, things to watch for.
"See number twelve?" she says, indicating a defenseman. "He had a concussion last season. We monitor him closely for any signs of head trauma."
"What signs specifically?"
"Balance issues, confusion, nausea, headaches. But also personality changes, difficulty concentrating."
I take notes on everything, trying to absorb as much information as possible.
Toward the end of practice, one of the forwards takes a hard hit into the boards. He gets up slowly, shaking his head.
"Let's go," Sophie says, and we're on the ice in seconds.
"What's your name?" Sarah asks the player.
"Tyler... Tyler Morrison."
"What day is it, Tyler?"
"Monday. I think."
"Where are you?"
"Practice. Swamp Cats practice."
Sophie runs through a quick concussion protocol while I watch and learn. Tyler's fine - just got his bell rung - but the process is educational.
"Good catch," Sophie tells me afterward. "You spotted the hit and his reaction immediately."
"Is that good?"
"It's exactly what we want. You need to see everything, especially the stuff that looks minor."
By the time practice ends, I feel like I've learned more about sports medicine than I did in a month of textbook studying. This is real, immediate, applicable knowledge.
Colin skates over as we're packing up equipment.
"How was your first day?" he asks.
"Educational. Overwhelming. Good."
"You looked natural out there."
"I felt like I had no idea what I was doing."
"That's normal. You'll get the hang of it."
"How's the shoulder?"
"Good. Felt fine during practice."
"Don't push it. Two weeks means two weeks."
"Yes, Dr. McPherson."
Sophie overhears and laughs. "She's right, Grant. Don't make me tell Coach you're not following medical orders."
"I'm being good," Colin protests.
"See that you stay that way."
As we're leaving the rink, Sophie turns to me.
"Good first day, Savannah. You've got good instincts and you're not afraid to speak up. That's exactly what we need."
"Thank you. I really appreciate the opportunity."
"Same time Wednesday?"
"I'll be here."
Walking back to my dorm, I feel energized in a way I haven't since starting college. This is what I want to do with my life - work with athletes, help prevent injuries, be part of a team environment where my knowledge actually matters.
And if working with the hockey team means spending more time around Colin Grant, well, that's just an added bonus.
Even if I'm not entirely sure what to do about the way my heart speeds up every time he smiles at me.