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chapter eleven: three words, eight letters, [say it, and i'm yours]

tw(s): none

— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —

BOMBAY BLOWS THE whistle and Team USA skates back and forth in lines across the ice. He blows the whistle again, and Charlie comes to a stop.

"This isn't very much fun, coach," he remarks, out of breath.

"You can say that again," Emma agrees.

"Who said it was supposed to be fun?"

"You did, when you coached the Ducks," Charlie says.

"Well, I don't see any Ducks here, Charlie. All I see is Team USA, one loss away from elimination."

Bombay calls out for twenty more sprints, and the whole team groans.

— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —

The next day, in class, everyone is half-asleep. Emma is seated in between Charlie and Averman. She has her head face down, stretching her arms onto a stack of books on Charlie's desk. Charlie has his arm over the back of her neck, because, well, where else is he supposed to put it?

Ms. McKay walks up to Emma's desk, where she is fast asleep.

"Emma."

"Sorry," she says, raising her head.

"Oh, dear. I've got to talk to your coach."

— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —

"And hold, two, three-"

"Coach isn't here, why do we have to be?"

"We have a game tonight, we have to work out."

Goldberg lifts his body from his stretching position and sighs.

"I say mutiny. Who's with me?" he asks.

"Goldberg, I'm too tired to mutiny," Dwayne says.

"Come on, guys, it's not like we couldn't use the conditioning," Emma says, resting her hands on her knees.

"Speak for yourself, babe," Dean says, nodding in her direction.

"Her name is Emma, not babe," Adam defends.

"Yeah! Have some respect," Charlie says.

"It's okay, Char," Emma says, pushing him back. "A hormone-fueled gorilla is a fight you're definitely not going to win."

"Don't tell me how to talk, rich boy!" Dean yells, shoving Adam backwards.

"Hey, Portman, chill!" Fulton shouts.

"Yo! Team USA!" a voice calls out from far away. It's the damn kid that keeps mocking their playing. "What're you going to do today, a million jumping jacks?"

"This kid's crazier than me," Dean says. "Forget about him. Look, Fulton." Dean continues to bicker, and Jesse emerges.

"Hey, man, I'm getting sick of you!"

"And I'm getting sick of seeing the USA get represented by a bunch of whining babies," the boy retorts, catching the attention of Emma, who appears by Jesse's side.

"Too bad you can't back up that mouth," Emma says, crossing her arms and cocking her head.

"Man, me and my boys could take you anytime, anywhere, little girl," the boy challenges.

"I don't see no boys," Jesse says.

"I got 'em waiting. Grab your gear and let's go play some schoolyard puck. Or maybe you forgot what it's like to play for real pride."

The boy is led out by a security guard, but Team USA follows him to accept the challenge.

— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —

"My little brother Russ here has been telling me that you have been choking big time," Russ's older brother says.

"Well," Jesse snaps. "Your brother's got a big mouth."

"He does, doesn't he?" he replies with a smirk. "Anyways, we thought we'd call you all to see what you got."

"We know you can talk to the press and sign autographs," Russ says.

"Yeah, I've got a real pretty signature. You want one, since this is clearly fan behavior?" Emma asks, narrowing her eyes.

"Oh, please," Russ retorts.

"We can do more than that," Luis protests.

"Oh, yeah? Well, we can teach you how to play like the real Team USA."

"What would you know about it?" Dean asks.

Turns out, they know a lot.

The boys were crushing Team USA in every single way, and bruises in the shape of cross-hatching from the barbed-wire fence were starting to develop on Emma's cheek.

Fulton takes a shot, but it bounces off of the metal tube and onto the windshield of someone's car, shattering the glass and triggering the alarm.

"Eh, no sweat, it happens all the time."

"Excuse me," Charlie calls out. "Throw it back, please."

After that, things start looking up, and Team USA's spirit is back. Charlie passes the puck to Emma, who scores a goal and gives him a side-hug that sends Charlie's heart lurching out of his chest.

Russ winds up with a shot so clean that Emma's eyes widen in surprise. It's shoots straight into the goal with such precision that her eyes almost bulge out of her head.

"What the heck kind of shot was that?" Fulton asks, skating over with Emma in tow.

"Ah, you like that, huh?"

"Totally," Emma says, impressed.

"That's my Knucklepuck. It's hard to be accurate, but it drives goalies crazy," Russ answers with pride.

"Yeah, I bet," Emma says.

— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —

"Hey, team! Hey, team! We're gonna be great today, right?" Tibbles rallies, clapping from the bleachers above. "Where's Gordon?"

"You tell us," Luis says.

"The little bitch dog failed us. Again," Emma says, pursing her lips.

"Team USA. I'm sorry," the ref says, approaching them. "But without a coach behind the bench, you'll forfeit the game."

"But you can't do that!" Adam says.

"Well, he kind of can," Emma whispers in his ear.

"We have one," Charlie says confidently.

What?

"Ms. McKay!"

Charlie skates over to her and exchanges some words.

"Here she is. Our coach. Coach McKay."

Emma laughs in disbelief, and grabs Charlie's shoulders.

"You're a freaking genius, Conway."

"What are you waiting for, the ice to freeze? Let's play!" Ms. McKay yells.

The game begins.

Charlie sits on the bench, giving instructions here and there which Ms. McKay relays to the players on the ice.

Charlie and Emma get onto the ice, Charlie grabbing her hand and helping her over the barrier. Just then, they hear the duck call.

"Wow, look who it is," Emma says, rolling her eyes.

Bombay lets himself into the enclosure and calls the players back to the bench. Emma watches as he gives Ms. McKay a kiss on the cheek. Emma furrows her brows. Okay, cute, but didn't he have a thing for Ms. Conway at some point? What a player.

"Team," he starts. "Guys. I was wrong."

People, Emma can hear Tammy saying.

"Oh, my. Stuck-up jackass admits he's wrong. This could make the headlines, people!" Emma snorts, dribbling the final contents of her water bottle into her mouth.

"Look, I'm sorry. I forgot about the team. And the team is all I have. All I want...is another chance. Just one more shot. I'm back, okay? Believe me."

Using the Flying V led by Jesse, Team USA crushes Germany, all with a renewed spirit from Bombay's return.

The locker room is empty, and Emma is taking her sweet time untying her skates. Charlie's zipping up his duffel bag. they're the only two left.

"Hey," Emma greets awkwardly.

"Hey. What a game, right?" Charlie asks, trying to start a conversation.

"Yeah. We crushed 'em. You did really well, Charlie," Emma congratulates.

"You did too, Em."

"Thanks, Char," Emma says. "Anyway, I gotta go. Love you!"

Oh crap crap crap crap crap.

Why the hell would I say that? Emma wonders frantically as she fiddles with a fray in her shirt. 

She said it instinctively. She says I love you to all her friends. She tells Averman she loves him, she tells Jesse she loves him, she tells Adam she loves him, you name it. And sure, she's known Charlie long enough, but they haven't been friends for a large portion of the time.

Charlie stands, frozen in place, in the locker room. What the hell did she just say? He knows that's what she says to all her friends, but she's never said it to him. Mainly because they were at each others throats before. Or, rather, he was at her throat. But those three words still make his legs feel like jello. He goes to bed with an uncontrollable smile on his face that night.

— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —

CLARA'S CORNER

i completely forgot about peter and karp. i sort of loved them. anyone know why they weren't in d2 and d3?

adam's response to everything is you can't do that! the entitlement is real, but i love him so much. although, he was a total nightmare in d1.