Head of the Class

The zamboni doors closed, signifying that the skaters could now access the ice. This Wednesday night was adult beginner hockey school. The current session had only brought five people, a new low for the ailing ice rink. Still, Alex was glad for the five he had. At least some of his bills would get paid over the next six weeks.

The players lined up for their drills. Alex got a good look at his new students: a man in his early thirties, one hotshot in his twenties that Alex recognized, a tall thin girl with a dark brown ponytail, and a short brick-shaped woman with a long blonde braid. An odd assortment, a motley crew.

As Alex led them through their drills, he realized that he had his work cut out for him. While the hotshot, Bruce, was decent at slapshots, he had a terrible time skating backwards. The tall thin girl was weak in every area. The short girl and the man in his thirties had enough skill to keep them upright and could decently skate and shoot, but Alex could see they both needed lots of practice.

After a while, Alex got to know how each player moved and shot. Within a few classes, he had even learned their names. Bruce was the hotshot, Annie the tall thin dark-haired girl, Will the middle-aged man, and Chess, the short blonde woman.

Bruce delivered cracking slapshots that actually scared the other players, who were afraid of getting hit. Annie was so gentle that she merely pushed the puck instead of hitting it. Will and Chess had a neat chemistry that allowed them to almost read each other with a surprising intuitiveness, and their passes were flawless.

Chess, however, had balance issues. She was afraid of lifting up her left foot. Crossover drills sent her flying, and when she hit the ice, it was a splattery clatter of limbs that rattled her cage.

After one particular crash, she didn’t get up right away. She had tried to stop on her left foot, and somehow both feet had gone up in the air causing her to land head first, the rest of her body following in a tangled heap. Will raced over to her and dropped to his knees on the ice beside her, gently shaking her shoulders and calling her name. Alex, afraid of a lawsuit, skated over to her, ready to cheer her back on her feet.

Behind her helmet cage, her eyes were closed.

“Hey,” said Alex nervously. “You OK? Come on, you’re alright.”

After a few uneasy seconds, Chess’s eyes blinked open. “Wow; that one knocked my brains loose a little bit.” She turned her gaze on Alex, and suddenly Alex was caught off guard.

Green, green eyes, like an ocean on a sunny day, glowing like electricity behind her face mask.

For a moment, Alex was struck speechless.

“Hey, dude, it’s OK. I’m fine, alright?” Chess sat up and shook her head. “Whoo! Hope that doesn’t happen again for a while.”

Will helped Chess to her feet, gently dusting snow off her jersey.

“You’re... so you’re okay, then?” Alex stammered, still thinking about those eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good.” Chess stood up and patted the top of Alex’s head with her glove. “Ready for more, coach.”

“Oh. Right.” Alex watched as she skated off with Will.

Alex stood and watched for longer than was necessary. Bruce skated by and elbowed him on his back, pitching him forward. “Hey, get back to work,” Bruce joked.

After the class was done, Alex escorted his students off the ice. Bruce, who knew Alex from a league they used to play on, came up to him and started talking about people they both knew. But Alex wasn’t listening. He was watching Chess and Annie skate towards the exit. Chess was squirting a water bottle into her mouth.

“What kind of a name do you think ‘Chess’ is?” Alex interrupted Bruce.

“What?” Bruce asked. “I don’t know. What do you care?”

“I don’t, really. I’ve just never heard it before.”

Bruce looked the two women up and down. “Dunno, man; the skinny brunette’s kind of hot, but the blonde one’s built like a tank.”

“Yeah, I know. Still, she’s got nice eyes.”

Bruce laughed and thumped Alex’s back. “Only a wiener like you would notice a woman’s eyes before anything else.”

Alex shoved Bruce’s arm. “That’s all any of us can see! Everyone’s covered in hockey equipment!”

“Yeah, except you,” Bruce pointed out. “Shouldn’t you at least have a helmet on? Or maybe some hockey pants to hide your boner?”

“Shut up!”

In the dressing room, Bruce brought up the subject of going out for a drink in the arena’s onsite bar, “Stanley’s”.

“I dunno about you guys, but I’m freakin’ thirsty,” he said, tossing a wad of hockey tape into the garbage can. “Anyone wanna head up to the bar for a beer?”

Alex agreed, pulling off his jersey and revealing a sweat-soaked t-shirt underneath. “Works for me.”

Will sighed. “That sounds like a great idea.” He rummaged around in his trousers that were hanging on a hook and pulled out his cell phone. “I’ll see if Chess wants to go.”

Chess!

Alex quickly stripped off the rest of his clothes and sprinted to the shower.

“Woo hoo, streaker on the loose!” Bruce hooted.

The shower was freezing, especially in an open dressing room, but Alex didn’t care. He normally waited until he got home to take his showers, so he didn’t have any soap or shampoo. He scrubbed his body with the institution soap from above the sink; it was not exactly an ideal scent, but there was no way he was going to sit across from Chess smelling like old hockey sweat.