Pucking Without End

Prologue

Jesse

The room is basked in darkness when I crack the door open after hours of not seeing the fifteen-year-old who’d slipped away after breakfast. She’d been quieter than normal, not that it’s out of the ordinary.

Since Belle and her mother moved in, she’s kept her presence at a minimum despite Dad telling her to make herself at home.

“Belle?” I ask quietly, poking my head inside the room that’s only been used for guests before now.

It’s odd seeing someone occupy it, knowing they won’t be leaving after a few days.

When my father told me he asked his girlfriend and her teenage daughter to move in, I’d felt indifferent to the idea.

I’ve spent plenty of time with Nora and Belle before Dad made this decision, so I knew it was only a matter of time before they showed up with their stuff.

Nora is a kind woman who makes Dad smile for the first time since Mom left. She’s never tried to take over Mom’s role, or take down old family photos, or interject herself in our lives by force. She’s welcoming and respectful and clearly good for my father.

Belle, though… I don’t know how to feel about the girl one year my junior.

I’ve seen her around school before our parents started dating, but never knew much about her.

We run in different friend groups, and rarely find ourselves in the same place at the same time.

I’m usually hanging out with other school athletes, while she either sits by herself or with a few artsy kids that people deem outcasts for one reason or another.

“Belle?” I ask again, this time a little louder.

Dad told Belle she could paint the guest room whatever color she wanted.

She politely declined and left it the boring beige that I’ve always found lacking.

The furniture is all second hand, with only a few items from Nora’s house littering the space.

Apparently, they decided to sell most of their belongings to consolidate what they brought here.

It makes me feel a little bad for Belle, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

Maybe she’s like me, and figures she’ll be moving out for college soon enough.

There’s rustling from the far side of the room where the queen bed is positioned against the wall.

Dad bought a new mattress before she came here and asked Nora to help him pick out bedding.

They’d chosen some weird shade of purple that didn’t seem like Belle at all.

Whenever I see her in school, she wears bright colors—yellow seems to be her favorite.

Especially the bright yellow sundress with flowers I’ve seen her in too many times to count.

It shows off her legs and the curve of her breasts that I never quite noticed until she walked around our kitchen wearing it.

After a moment, I hear Belle’s groggy voice ask, “What time is it?”

Has she been sleeping this whole time? “It’s almost four.” I frown as I search the wall for the light switch, flicking it on. “Are you okay?”

She winces and covers her eyes with her hands at the sudden burst of light from the ceiling. “Please turn it off,” she pleads.

I quickly switch it off. “Shit. What’s wrong?”

“Migraine.”

My frown deepens. “Did you take anything for it?”

She gives me something that sounds like a nonverbal “mmhmm”, like that’s all the energy she can muster.

If she took ibuprofen, there’s not much else I can do for her. But I still want to try. So, I quietly close the door to block out the hallway light and do a quick google search.

Ten minutes later, I’m walking into her room with a glass of water from the kitchen and a cold washcloth from the bathroom. “Here,” I say softly. “Put this on your forehead.”

I reach out, waiting for her to accept the cool compress that the internet said could help.

“I brought water too,” I add once she takes the damp cloth. “Maybe drinking something will help. Are you nauseous?”

It’s at least twenty seconds before she whispers, “No. Not anymore.”

When my eyes adjust the dark room, I notice the sheets hanging over the window to block out the light. I saw something about light sensitivity being a side effect of migraines, so I guess the regular curtains weren’t doing a good enough job.

“Do you want me to get your mom?”

She turns, I think to face me, and says, “No. I’m okay. You don’t need to bother her.”

It’s obvious that she’s not okay at all, but I want to respect her. “Does this happen often?”

I don’t think she’s going to answer when her barely audible voice says, “Yes.” A pause. “I just need to sleep it off.”

I’m not offended by her dismissal. I make sure her water is within reach and that the sheet isn’t going anywhere on the window. When I leave her, I shut the door and walk downstairs where her mother and my father are watching TV in the living room.

“You need to buy blackout curtains for Belle’s room,” I say to no one in particular, grabbing my car keys from the dish they sit in by the door. I turn toward Nora. “I’d go check on her in an hour if she’s not up yet or she won’t sleep tonight. I think she has a history test tomorrow morning.”

Her mother looks from my dad to me, surprise evident in her eyes. “Does she have another migraine?”

Guess they are common. That would explain why nobody but me was concerned by the fact Belle went MIA all day after barely touching her eggs.

I nod, heading for the door. “I’m going to hang out with Kyle. I’ll be back later.”

Dad doesn’t tell me when to come home. He knows I won’t be out late.

I’ve got hockey practice tomorrow, and coach said there will be scouts at our next game from the University of Denver.

If I don’t get a scholarship there, I won’t be able to go to college without putting myself in major debt.

And being a Pioneer is my first pick. If I don’t go to college, especially not a division one school, I know my chances at playing hockey professionally is low.

I’ve dreamed of that life since the moment my first pair of skates touched ice. I won’t give it up easily.

But I don’t meet up with Kyle right away.

I text him before hitting the road saying I need to make a pit stop.

I go to Walmart and buy two sets of black out curtains first. One white set with bright floral patterns on the top, and one an ugly dark purple set that reminds me of the bedding Dad bought her.

When I get home that night, I leave both at her door with a note.

The next morning, I walk past the open door to her room and see the white floral curtains hanging from the window where the sheet was.

At school, she smiles at me across from the cafeteria where we sit with our respective friends wearing that damn sundress. I didn’t know it then, but that smile would change everything.