ᴍᴀᴇᴠᴇ ᴡɪʟʟɪᴀᴍꜱ

"𝐈 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐑, 𝐈𝐅 you don't come play street puck with me within the next 10 minutes, I'm gonna hoard that Nirvana album for the next 6 months," Adam Banks warned.

I imagined him with his usual toothy grin as he twirled the phone cord around his finger, leaning against the gray wallpaper of his kitchen. Ever since the grass turned green and the temperature hit above 50, he's been at my door practically every day trying to get me to practice with him. He's also been using that Nirvana threat since it came out in 1993--almost 9 whole months of the same tedious consequence.

"Yeah, yeah," I rolled my eyes, holding the phone between my shoulder and head. "I heard you the first billion times."

"Wait, what phone are you using?"

"Library's," I answered while placing 'Little Women' back into its proper section. "You know, the place with all the books."

"They let you use that?"

"Gee, Adam, I've only worked here for months."

"Well, you're leaving now, right?" He asked.

I heard the rattle of his fridge opening to grab a cold water bottle. That boy always got his hopes up so soon.

"Be home in 15," I told him.

"Promise?"

"You're so needy. Just play with yourself, I won't be that long."

"Promise on true blue that you'll be here in 15!" His voice rose so much through the staticky phone that I had to pull it away from my ear.

"20 max."

When I heard the first quack, I thought it was another Adam strategy to get me to play hockey with him. But when the second one floated through the nearby open window, my head practically snapped in its direction. By the third one, I had never been so sure of anything in my life.

"B-"

"Adam!" I interrupted, my movements stopping as my eyes darted out the library window--watching as three unmistakable figures approached. "I think he's back."

"Oh, I have a feeling you won't be home in 15."

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"𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐄! 𝐉𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄! 𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍!" I yelled as the trio of boys made their way down the sidewalk.

"Well, you were easy to find," Averman remarked as their roller blades came to a halting stop right in front of me.

"Lace-up, Maeve," Charlie said, grinning a grin that I hadn't seen in forever. "We're hunting Ducks."

I knew what those words meant, and they made me want to jump around and scream with excitement. Bombay was back. He was actually back. We were back.

"I thought Coach wasn't getting here until November," I mentioned, quickly tying the purple laces into a sloppy bow.

"Didn't you hear?" Jesse questioned.

"No..."

"He tore a shit ton of cartilage in his knee," Charlie summarized.

"Bye-bye professional hockey career," Averman added.

"So he's back to coaching," I filled in, glancing up to see their nodding heads.

"But it gets better," Jesse Hall continued.

"I would hope so," I muttered.

"He's coaching Team USA! For the Junior Olympics, I mean," Averman broke in, appearing to have stolen the words right out of Jesse's mouth as he glared at the bubbling ginger.

"So now we have to as-"

"If you ask me to join USA Hockey for the Goodwill Games I might just die," I interrupted.

The three looked at each other with panicked expressions before slowly turning back to me.

"That's a good thing," I clarified.

"You're in?" The brunette boy asked.

"Oh, I'm so in!" I nearly shrieked, leaping onto my feet and into Charlie's celebrating open arms. "Please tell me we're getting Adam next."

"Well..."

I frowned and felt like sitting back down. "Let's just get this over with."

It's been 2 years since Adam and Charlie shut Guy Germaine and me in the locker room. I was 13 now and still so incredibly disgusted with even the mere thought of him. I hated him--he hated me. Just like it should be. With each interaction came insults and arguments. With each moment of eye contact came icy glares and eye rolls. Call me immature, but that wasn't going to go away.

"You know, he really isn't even that bad," Averman tried to convince me once again.

"You're right, bad doesn't even begin to describe what that thing is."

"Come on, we still got 5 to go," Jesse reminded us.

Jesse Hall was smart enough to not get in the middle of this feud. He knew we were stubborn, because so was he.

"If I was on a hopelessly romantic date...where would I be?" Averman wondered aloud as the four of us glided through Minneapolis Park and Recreation.

Anyone who had been in Minnesota for the last 10 years knew the answer to this. It became the cliche dating spot for people of any age. A few months ago, they replaced the old wooden fences with metal bars, as the town saw it as an 'encouragement to carve initials into state property'.

"Rapids River," Charlie and I answered at the same time.

"Seems Guy's originality is lacking," Jesse joked.

"That's a first," I sarcastically commented.

Just as predicted, there they were. Connie and Guy. Holding hands.

"Holy shit, are they about to make out?" Averman whispered into my ear.

"Excuse me, I have to go and vomit," I announced in an attempt to back away, but Charlie grabbed my wrist, forcing all of us to watch as the two inched closer and closer.

"And...now," Jesse said.

Then that ridiculously loud duck whistle blew directly into my ear. But it broke Connie and Guy up, so the boys didn't seem to mind.

"The Quack-Attack is back, Jack!" Averman shouted over the roaring sound of the water behind us.

Connie whipped her head to look at us, a surprised smile making its way onto her lips. She turned back to Guy, trying to convince him to follow us--but I didn't think he'd need it. Everyone wanted Bombay back the second he left.

"I was this close!" Guy complained, his fingers barely an inch apart as if we didn't see it for ourselves.

When he looked at me, basic human nature took over and I rolled my eyes.

"Oh, good," He sneered. "You brought her."

"Oh, good," I mocked. "Your exceptionally small brain can comprehend tricky knowledge like that."

"Comprehend," Germaine repeated with a fake smile. "Looks like you learned a new word."

"Yeah, and I've got a few more just for you," I quickly replied, taking a step closer as he tried to use his newfound height advantage as an intimidation tactic.

"Alright," Averman hesitantly moved between us. "Let's go back to that whole 'we refuse to talk to each other' thing, okay?"

"Happily," I grumbled, holding a sharp glare as I backed away with crossed arms.

"Okay, I'm ready," Connie beamed, finally joining us as a double-decker tourist boat passed by.

"To Goldie's!"

The Goldberg Family Deli was over a mile and a half away from the rapids. We skated under bridges, down side streets to avoid the main roads, and through active construction sites. Anything for a shortcut.

When we made it to the front window of the Deli, Goldberg was wiping the crumbs from dirty tables to the floor. Something told me he wasn't employee of the month. He was sticking to his roots by wearing that stupid Philadelphia Flyers T-shirt that has been the cause of years of relentless nagging. We'd tell him to just give it up, but he wouldn't budge.

Guy's ring made a clinking sound as he banged his hand on the glass. As annoying as it was, it got Goldberg to at least notice the group of six kids smooshing their faces against the window. He threw his rag and apron onto the ground as his dad yelled at him to get back to work.

Definitely not employee of the month.

"Nice for you to join us, Gregory," Averman greeted as the boy met us out on the sidewalk.

Then, Jesse turned to me. "Alright, Maeve, lead us into Cake Eater territory."

I grinned. "Follow me."

When we got to Adam's, I half expected him to be staring at the watch on his wrist, still impatiently waiting and counting the minutes I was late. But, he appeared to have taken my advice.

"He crosses the goalie," My best friend self-narrated as he stick-handled a small red ball around his driveway and towards the net he had gotten two months ago for his birthday. "Between the legs, he scores!"

"Wow, I go to work for three hours and you've already started talking to yourself," I said, interrupting his celebration.

His eyes widen when he sees the seven of us, but finally lets out a breath of relief. "Yeah, well you were supposed to be here half an hour ago."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. How about some real hockey?" I asked him as Charlie and Connie wave the blond boy over--everyone yelling their own form of endorsement.

"As in Junior Olympics hockey?" Adam questioned with sudden eagerness.

"How'd you know?" Charlie smiled as Adam joined us in the middle of North Hennepin Avenue.

"He's only been stalking USA Hockey for months."

"It's not stalking, it's research," He contradicted. "But guys, I mean, it's an international competition. It's us against the world!"

"Hey, bring them on. We're ready!" Goldberg declared with a loud clap of his hands.

Less than 3 seconds later, his skate got caught on a pebble and he rolled down the Edina Green hill.

Yeah, we look really ready.

"It's the Flyers shirt, I'm telling you."

"Should we..?" Guy asked as he landed in the middle of a family picnic.

"Yeah," Charlie answered.

"This would only happen to Goldberg," I mutter to Jesse as we pick him up and drag him back to the sidewalk.

"You'd think Fulton would be easier to find--he's like 6ft!" Averman noted.

I shrugged, continuing down the wide pathway through the large park.

"He'll come up," Connie said. "He always does."

"Speak of the devil..." Adam stopped, staring as two nearby kayaks flipped off the boat rack and crashed onto the grass below.

"That's Fulton work if I've ever seen it," I observed, my eyes widening as my gaze focused on Chris McGill, Aidan Larson, and Matt Fanger tied to a tree in nothing but their underwear.

I knew I was staring, but oh my I could not stop.

"You're drooling," Germaine murmured into my ear, his head slightly dipping closer to the crook of my neck.

"Shut up, no I'm not," I snapped as he laughed at the burn of embarrassment my cheeks held. "Asshole."

"That'll teach them not to mess with the Ducks!" Fulton Reed cheered, his fist full of torn clothing.

Someone's mom is going to be very upset when she picks up her son from the park.

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𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒. Gordon Bombay was standing 5 feet away from me and I almost couldn't believe that he was real. He grinned at us as we approached The Duck Head Diner. We circled around him like he was some crazy celebrity--cause to us, he was.

"Welcome back, Ducks!" He yelled over our chants of anticipation. "I really missed you guys. Are you ready to fly?"

"Yeah!"

Before any more could be said, three loud honks from a limousine pulled right up to us.

"Who do you think's in there?" Charlie whispered.

"No idea."

"I bet it's the president," Averman smirked.

"I don't think it's the president."

"Either way," Jesse said. "Can't be from this neighborhood."

Then, a little man with a squeaky voice popped up through the sunroof and I nearly jumped.

"Hey, guys!" The man greeted. "I'm Don Tibbles--Hendrix Hockey Apparel. We're your official sponsors. Does anybody want a card?"

He didn't have to ask us twice.

"Look at that car!" Connie exclaimed as we all raced over to grab a small slip of shiny paper with a bunch of names and numbers we'd never recognize.

"Why don't you step into my office," Tibbles suggested.

Adam, Charlie, and I shared a look of excitement.

"Adults only."

"Consider yourselves the lucky ones," Bombay muttered as he passed us with a wink.

"What do you think they're talking about in there?" Averman asked.

"Probably how they're gonna cut you from the team," Jesse answered, resulting in an outbreak of laughter.

It was the kind of laugh that came from the pit of your stomach and sounded wheezy as it left your mouth. The laugh that didn't occur very often. The laugh that only happened with the right people.

For the first time in two years, I felt like I was really smiling. I was really laughing. Whether I had known it or not, I missed the Ducks more and more as each day passed. But now that it crossed my mind, it felt strikingly obvious. I was finally back with the right people.

The Mighty Ducks are back.

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a/n - Big plans for this book! Also, I am the biggest Connie Moreau stan and simp you will EVER meet, but I do have to make her a borderline villain for the drama 😩😩