I'd been heckled by friends or family of the girls I'd fought my amateur matches against. It still hadn't prepared me for what I encountered when we descended the bus at East Pembroke High.

I heard it even while I was still inside the bus, waiting for the line of boys to file down. It sounded as though the director of an orchestra stood outside, conducting everybody into one big, unison and resounding boo. It came deep from the throats of many people, fueled by half a century's worth of rivalry. I had no particular stake in the whole matter, yet I found myself embroiled right in the middle of it as I descended the school bus and met a wall of loud people whom I found very creative with their picket signs as well as their curse words.

Gee, and here I thought all Canadians were polite.

Someone stumbled against me from behind. I startled, only to realize that it was Dean. He had his hand on my shoulder, steering me onwards. I hadn't realized that I'd been rooted on the spot just after picking up my gym bag, dazzled by everything around me. I let him push me all the way into the building and into the locker room. The Bears were emanating aggression off them and I could almost smell it. And it had nothing to do with the gross, musty and damp scent of boy locker rooms.

We did quick work of putting on all the equipment in the black and green colors of our St. Andrews and with one last speech from Coach Martel, accompanied by nods from Assistant Coach Gauthier, we made it out and onto the ice.

Full disclosure, I'd never been to a professional hockey arena before. I'd seen glimpses on TV or the occasional sports bar and restaurant I'd gone to with my dad and Miguel. I was sure that a pro one would be a hell of a lot bigger than this one, yet at that moment it felt huge. Or maybe it was that I felt very small in the middle of the icy expanse, surrounded by people who shouted that we were either ready for hibernation, or dead meat, or Winnie The Pooh. Although that last one made me smile.

"C'mon, Bernal," I heard Pace's voice zoom by me as he skated in a wide circle.

I pumped my legs to follow right after him and joined the rest of my team as we warmed up on the ice. When it was just us it wasn't so bad. But of course as soon as I thought that the crowd started cheering like a celebrity had just walked in the house, and I looked around to see that it was the Eagles in their blue and yellow uniforms skating onto the ice.

Oh shit.

They were just as big and aggressive as we were. In the grand scheme of things, this should have comforted me. Had they been bigger than my Bears I had more of a reason to feel like I was in trouble. The problem was that just because my friends were just as big and mean didn't mean that I was, too. I was a fucking girl in the middle of the most testosterone riddled game there was in this entire nation. I swallowed thickly, yet there was a knot in my throat that wouldn't let my saliva go down during the entire time we lined up for the national anthem.

"Are you okay?" somebody said around me. "Charlie?"

I looked up at Hunter Perry, one of our strikers and precisely the boy I was trying to sell to Lena Lee. He'd stopped in front of me, holding his stick across his body with both hands. I nodded jerkily and he gave me a loopy grin thanks to his mouthguard. He chewed it out and spat it into his glove.

"It must suck to be you, to start playing the game and be stuck in one of the most heated rivalries of the whole province of Alberta," he said as a way of comforting me. He started chuckling as I glared. "There we go, that attitude will help you better."

Brian Levesque, our First Nation Assistant Captain, braked right in between us. "Don't rise to this dork's bait. There's no reason to be nervous, we got your back."

I sighed. "It's not my back I'm worried about, it's my front."

As I said this I jerked my chin at some of our opponents. They looked like walls with bricks made of muscle.

"You're right though, I shouldn't worry too much," I shrugged. "It's not like I'm actually playing tonight."

They both turned to look at me slowly.

"Who said that?" Hunter asked, just as Brian started shaking his head.

"Charlie, we're all playing tonight."

"What?" I half screamed. "I thought only starting players played! I haven't been told I'm starter."

"Er, well," that was Brian, cringing as he said those words and exchanged a wary look with Hunter. "Hockey's not like other sports where only a certain number of players can play or sub in for others."

I became ice. My entire body heat dissipated into the ice below me. I lost strength in my limbs and it was no wonder I didn't slip and land on my ass. I looked back at the Eagles and remembered their motto, except that it was not them who'd be soaring tonight. It'd be me. Across the ice. As soon as one of them tackled me. I wondered if it was too late to give dad a call and ask him to pick me up two towns over.

"Alright, Bears! Huddle up," Coach Martel said from the bench. As I stopped by the bench I realized I'd already soaked my uniform through with sweat. "Can somebody tell me what we're here for tonight?"

"To win," somebody said.

"To deep fry Eagle wing." That one came from my left and we all turned to appreciate the creator. It was one of the younger guys.

"To get revenge."

The last one came from Dean. We all turned to him, attracted to the emotion in his voice like moths to flame. I opened and closed my mouth a couple of times, sure that the coaches were going to say something about the game not being about revenge, but personal achievement or something PC like that.

Of course I was wrong.

"That's right," Coach Martel said. "This isn't just any regular season opening. Tonight's game is like a finals game, and none of us can't play it otherwise. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir!" everybody replied.

"What are we here for?" he asked again.

The response was so fierce that it seemed to blot out any other sound in the arena.

"Revenge!"

"And what do Bears do?" coach asked while putting his hand in the middle. Twenty gloved paws fell in line.

"We roar!"

Alright, I was so ready for this!

Not.

Oh, shit. Oh, shit. What was I supposed to do? I was frozen. What if my entire body remained taught like a bowstring the whole time? What if I couldn't even move my ass out of the bench? And if I did, what was I supposed to do? I'd only started playing this for a month. Athleticism alone was not going to save my ass. I didn't have the reflexes honed by years of practice and repetition. I was still wobbly on my skates and I could barely pass the puck around, forget about shooting it to the net. And the Eagles were big. Huge. I was a tallish girl but for a latina. I was not even tall for white people standards. I was way in over my head. I was-

"Stop."

I looked up at the source of the voice and found Dean standing directly in front of me. His eyes were shadowed by his helmet's visor, but they were clear in intent as he looked at me.

"You're freaking out," he said.

I tried to say that I was, but only a thread of voice came out. A subconscious part of my mind registered the fact that I was not acting very manly at the moment, but I was too freaked out to care about appearances. The truth of the matter was that I was scared to the core.

"You have one job," he continued, leaning close enough that our helmets bumped. "One mission. Do you remember what that is?"

"Not really," I squeaked out. I tried clearing my throat, but that also didn't help me shed some of the hysterics my mind was riding.

"Your job is to defend me. Every time coach tells you to come down on the ice, remember that." He bumped my chest with his glove and even though the touch was meant to be friendly, brotherly even, it spread heat all across my abdomen. "Every time you go out there, focus on that. You're not in the team to score goals or tackle guys bigger than you. You're supposed to distract them and keep them off of me."

I knew that what he was saying sounded self serving AF, but it was true. I hadn't been recruited for my great skills at anything other than breaking a guy's nose. That I knew how to do. I knew how to draw strength from my legs, from the swinging motion of my body and up my spine, and channel it into hooks and jabs and counters so powerful they made grown men cry. And even though every boy in this team and the opposite were trained athletes, they couldn't all be trained in the fine art of breaking people's bones.

I nodded.

"Good," he said, patting my helmet once. "That said, don't be a mess out there."

I rolled my eyes. "Thanks, dad."

"Not dad." He smirked. "Friend, right?"

I watched him skate off with the other starting five. He stood just off of the center circle where the referee dropped the puck and started the play.

I realized several things at once. The first was the return of sound. I'd been so engrossed in what has transpired on our bench that I'd forgotten we were surrounded by at least a hundred Eagle fans. The next thing I realized was that Dean's last words of encouragement were not a rally to the entire team, but to me. I told myself not to read into it, but the problem was that I always did the opposite of what I was told.

Oh, I read into it, alright. Especially the way he said friends.

Yes, I'd consider him and Pace and Hunter and Brian and maybe even Shane my new friends. But the way he said it ringed to me like the conversation we had on the bus and how it had made me imagine things that there was no way were there. Dean was a man's man. He oozed sex appeal and confidence. If he was gay he was barking up the wrong tree altogether, because this tree right here was very much female and was starting to react to him a bit much.

The first tackle against the sideboards came from one of our Bears. I couldn't see whom, but he smashed that Eagle like he was just a soft stuffed toy. Our bench exploded in cheers just as the crowd shouted in anger. I was sure my ears would be ringing for hours afterwards, but I didn't care one whit as I joined along in the commotion. We started banging on the boards and screaming at our friends to skate faster, to pass, to shoot to the goal.

The Eagles had a nasty block on Dean and coach screamed for the McDermott, Bernal and Lorenz line. Shane McDermott nudged me once before all but jumping over the barrier.

Fuck. It was my turn.

I followed behind Lorenz a lot more clumsily. I was just glad I'd remembered to bring my stick along with me. I remembered Dean's words from earlier. It felt like an eternity had passed since we talked on the bench and I suddenly couldn't find him. Everybody was moving too fast.

I took a deep breath and told myself I was a total wuss.

And so I did the very opposite. I took off at a dead sprint once I spotted a black and green jersey that read HYDE 13. I'd finally reached that glorious stage of freight where the thoughts in my head became so incoherent that only my body functioned any longer. And it functioned, alright. The asshole tailing Dean's flank didn't see me coming and I smacked into him, hard. I thought for a moment that the awful oomph sound came from me hitting his body, but it was actually from his body slamming into the sideboard. I managed to untangle myself from the fallen Eagle to skate off, searching for other birdies that needed their feathers plucked.

I found another one zeroing in on our 13 and I took off in that direction. He must have seen me coming because he pivoted out of the way, but it helped create enough of a diversion from Dean.

All I saw was the flick of his wrist and then there was a whistle.

All the Bears roared and before I knew what was going on I was pulled into a pile of screaming, jumping boys.

I just looked around as a multitude of hands reached over me to pat our Captain, who was firmly wedged in between at least four bodies and mine.

Once the commotion cleared I numbly asked, "What just happened?"

Pace was the one who found me and guided me back to the bench. "We just scored, Bernal. That's what."

I looked all around. People screamed while the Away sign turned to read 1.

"Holy shit," I said.

"Good D, Bernal," Coach said as I entered the bench.

He barked for the next line to replace us and I sat down, stunned that I had accomplished something.

"Wow, I don't suck."

As soon as I said this, someone screamed watch out, which I somehow took to mean my ego was getting a tad bit too inflated. Until I looked up and realized what it had been about. Out of nowhere Dean hit the ice hard, and an Eagle that had been onto him fell on top of our Captain in a way that did not look accidental at all.

As the air left our bench, I saw red and found myself jumping over the barrier.