28. Laur
Chapter twenty-eight
Laur
S pringing out of bed, I barely notice the lack of sleep I got the night before until I spot my puffy under-eyes in the mirror. I’m unsure if I tossed and turned last night from thrill or nerves, but either way, the new girls will be here in just a couple of hours.
The past few weeks of application review and interviews have been truly exhausting. Today it will make everything worth it.
“Laur,” Libby calls from down the stairs, “are you almost ready?”
The welcome packets are close to being done, but I wanted to add in a calendar of events last minute so the girls can plan ahead.
I planned to finish it last night, but someone threw a fork or a few hundred in my plans.
Lucas and Keith came over to help Libby and me, but it still took hours to remove the plastic forks from our lawn.
What happened to good old fashioned TP-ing?
After zipping my jeans, I open my closet to find something to wear.
Today is important, so I ditch my usual leggings and oversized T-shirt to look more professional.
While I sift through my closet, I find the flowy black chiffon tank top I was looking for, but my eyes linger to what’s behind it—one of Nick’s old Wyverns jerseys.
Pulling it out of my closet, I hug the jersey tightly to my chest. Tears pool in my eyes, but I try to quickly blink them away not wanting to ruin my makeup.
“I hope I’m making you proud, big brother,” I whisper into the jersey, tears making their way down my face.
“Laur!” Libby shrieks again. “If you don't hurry, I'm going to go get coffee without you! ”
“I’m coming,” I shout back, my voice shaky.
Quickly, I rush into my bathroom. My makeup brush tickles my face as I touch up my makeup and hide my tears. Good thing I use waterproof mascara.
Five pairs of eyes I’ve only seen over a computer screen stare back at me as I walk to the front of the conference room I booked in the arena. Taking a quick calming breath, I paint on a smile and turn around to greet them.
“Hi, everyone,” I start in a higher pitched tone than normal. “You probably recognize me from the interviews but hi.” I give an awkward wave of my hand. What am I doing? Why would I wave?
Clearing my throat, I continue, “I’m Lauren Bellinger, the lead on the PR and marketing team, but please, call me Laur.”
We start with introductions for both the returning and new members, getting everyone comfortable. Libby hands out the welcome packets to all the new girls.
“Newbies, you can go through the welcome packet on your own time this week.” I begin to explain the mounds of paper being handed out. “The other packet is a brief calendar and information on key events throughout the season. This is a work in progress. We’ll add to it throughout the year.”
Kat passes out the calendars and event detail packets, still fresh from the printer. It took us all morning to finalize them.
“We have two big fundraiser events this year, but we’ll be looking to add a third,” I go on, enthusiasm lighting up my tone.
Signaling to Libby to take over the conversation, she begins talking about the calendar and the new changes we add this year .
“This idea is brilliant!” A junior who’s been on the team for a while confirms.
“If I wasn’t on this team, I would enter,” another girl mutters, causing giggles to break out amongst the girls.
Pride fills my soul at the feedback. My smile grows wider, taking up my entire face.
“The other event—” I take back over “—was actually an idea that one of our new members pitched during her interview.”
Whispers go around the room mixed with the sound of pages turning quickly as girls scan the materials looking for the event, hoping it was theirs.
My voice comes alive with energy as I continue, “Raven, incredible job pitching the idea to do a charity picnic with a player auction.”
“Wow,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. “Thank you.”
My eyes find the young blonde girl sitting in the back of the room.
Her bright green eyes grow wide with the news.
As they meet mine, a glimpse of something like fear flashes in them, but she quickly looks down at her packet.
My pulse quickens as unease washes over me. What was that? Is she just shy?
“The timing for the calendar is set in stone but the player picnic is tentative,” I proceed, shaking off the strange feeling before it can take root in my gut. “We are aiming for the picnic to be mid-season and plan the third big event near the end of the season.”
Pausing, I take in the room filled with girls I will lead for the next ten months.
“Each one of you will play a role on this team and make an impact, just like players would on a sports team.” My smile comes back to my face, finally reciting the lines I rehearsed in my head, “It’s a team sport.
We will have to work together to make the hockey team look great, drive sales, and raise money. ”
“It will be hard work.” My words rush forward, bright with my excitement coming back. “But I promise it will be rewarding, and we will have more fun than you imagined. ”
“Speaking of fun—” Libby boldly interrupts “—tonight there’s a party at the captain’s house to celebrate the new alternate captains.” Libby steals my thunder sharing the news of the party. “Oh and the captain is Laur’s boyfriend,” she adds bluntly.
The mood in the room changes, electric and eager with energy.
“What do we wear?” someone whispers. I assume it’s a new girl.
“Can we drink?” someone else mutters.
“Do we have to go?”
The room instantly goes silent at the last question.
“Why would you not want to go?” Libby sneers, putting her hands on her hips. “You get to hang out with the team and—” I cut her off, worrying, creasing my brow at what she will say next.
“You can wear whatever you want,” I start.
“But it’s a party so —” Libby goes quiet as my eyes find hers, meeting her with a menacing glare. Message received, she doesn’t finish her sentence.
“Yes, it is a party,” I declare. A new-found authority takes over my voice, “but you can wear whatever you want. What other questions do you have?”
Reluctantly, a redhead I recognize from interviews as the freshman Lena raises her hand.
“Yes?” I nod toward her, encouraging her to ask the question.
“Can we . . .” Her voice is like a whisper in the wind. “Can we drink?”
Fidgeting with my hair, I’m not sure how I want to respond. How the hell did I not anticipate this? Underage girls are going to want to drink at parties, but I don’t want to encourage illegal behavior.
What would Bren do ? Who am I kidding . . . she would probably hand them a shot.
What would Nick do . . . if it was his hockey team and a new player asked.
“You can do whatever you want,” I blurt out, speaking way too fast. I take a sip of my watered down iced coffee, trying to find words.
“I mean please be responsible, but what you do is your choice.” My head nods as if I’m agreeing with myself.
“Just remember you can get kicked off this team should your behavior get out of hand.”
Lena’s eyes grow wide as saucers with fear. Shit, I didn’t mean to scare her.
"What she means is—” Libby jumps in to rescue me “—don’t get sloppy drunk and don’t get arrested. Any other questions?”
No one speaks up, but I am positive someone asked if they have to go. Maybe they are too afraid to ask in front of everyone.
“If you do, feel free to ask me after or send me a text,” I offer. “We’ll meet again later this week—details are in your schedule packets.”
“Someone will text you details about tonight!” Libby squeals, clapping her hands in excitement.
Animated chatter drifts all around as the room slowly clears, but one girl lingers behind.
Sensing she wants to talk to me, I tell Libby to go ahead and I will meet her at home.
“Lauren,” Raven says in a low voice. “I mean Laur.”
“What can I help you with?” I paint a friendly smile on my face, trying to make Raven feel like she can confide in me.
“Is the party mandatory?” Raven rushes to explain herself, “It’s not that I don’t want to go or that I don’t like parties. It’s just that my sister is a freshman and already on campus for orientation, so my family is here too.”
“It’s definitely not mandatory,” I confirm. “Only the meetings and dates in the schedule are mandatory.”
“Are you sure? I want to go, it’s just that my family will be gone,” her voice trails off.
“There will be plenty of parties if that’s what you’re worried about,” I say, trying to reassure her. “Enjoy the time with your family.”
“Okay.” She nods slightly, as if convincing herself she is making the right decision to see her family. “Thank you.”
“Anytime.” I give her a pat on the arm. “We are thrilled to have you on the team.”