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Let Me Be Your Wings


"Howard!" I ran and jumped into his opened arms.

"Kaycie," he replied, "How is my favorite niece?"

"Well." Pulling away I smiled into his face and added, "How is my favorite uncle?"

"Very well."

Howard Steinbeck. My "uncle." He has been in my life for eighteen years, and I wouldn't have it any other way. He and my mother have been friends since high school and he has always been there for us. He was there for my first day of school, he was there for all of my sporting events, all of my choral concerts, and my high school graduation and birthdays. Howard has been there for me, and he's here for me now.

I've recently graduated from college with a degree in photography and was in need of a job. I was hired by my school to take pictures of the college's hockey league for their web page which I accepted. I only lasted a month before Howard offered me the job of a lifetime.

I am now the [i]Official[/i] Photographer for the Chicago Blackhawks.

I'm very excited, not only because it's the first time the word "official" has ever been in my title, but I'm working for my favorite hockey team ever. This of course was topped off by Howard being my boss. He will be strict of course, but I don't mind.

"Thank you so much, Howard," I said, "This means a lot to me. I can not describe how grateful I am."

"It's okay Kaycie. It was the least I could do. How else would you get noticed as an artist?" Smiling, I gave him a nudge and he wrapped his arm around my shoulder, "Walk with me."

We were currently in the press box, people were running around making sure everything was ready for tonight's game against the St. Louis Blues. Howard lead me out of the room and down the hall to the elevators.

"Where are we going," I asked as the elevator smoothly descended to the second level.

"To meet the boys."

My heart skipped a beat at the news. These players are huge. It's been a dream of mine - since I was three - to meet the members of the Chicago Blackhawks. Never in a million years would I think that I would be meeting all of them.

The elevator doors slid open and we exited the small space and made out way down to the first floor, through the small tunnels, and into the arena.

A whistle blew and the hockey players skating on the ice stopped what they were doing and started something else. Howard and I made our way down to the benches and I couldn't help but smile as my senses soaked in my surroundings. My skin tingled at the feeling of the chilled air of the arena that was cold but not too cold. My nose took in the sent that filled the air. The smell of the ice mixing with the smell of sweat. The feelings were second nature to me, making me feel like home.

Howard opened the door and made his way to where the coaches were standing, but I stayed by the open door. The sound of sticks hitting pucks or the ice over whelmed me with yet another wave of homey satisfaction. I smiled as I watched the boys of the hockey team shout and interact with each other. It was the reall meaning of real brotherly love. Everyone cared for everyone else, and watched out for each other.

Howard came back in front of me and held out his hand, "I doubt you need help getting on the ice but...."

"It's there if I need it."


"Thanks, but I've got it," stepping onto the cold slippery suffice of the ice I remembered to grip with my toes and stood confidently next to Howard, "Can't let the boys think I'm not tough enough for this."

"That's my girl."

A whistle blew and the sound of skates skidding to a stop came, "All right, bring it in."

The team made a semi-circle around the coach and assistant coach while Howard and I walked with ease across the rice. I let Howard lead, and came to a stop by his side. The players have all taken their helmets off, resting on one knee or standing with their helmets under their arms leaning on their sticks. My eyes jumped from one face to another recognizing some on sight, or by the numbers on their arm.

"Sorry to interrupt your practice fellas, Howard said, "But I have someone I want to introduce." Turning to me, he placed his hand on my shoulder and said, "Now you've all heard me talk about her several times, and now she is our new family member. Guys, meet Kaycie Cullen, the new official photographer of the Chicago Blackhawks."

Smiling I waved, not really knowing what else to do, "Hey guys, nice to meet you."

"Alright guys, introduce yourselves." Yelled Howard.

"They don't have to. I-"

"Are you sure?"

"I know the roster."

Howard looked at me like he didn't believe me, "Number 16."

"What about him?" I asked, confused.


"Andrew Ladd."

"Duncan Keith?"

"Number two."


"Twenty-two." I smiled smugly.

 "Burish?" Howard asked.


"You've been studying."

"Well I want to tag the pictures correctly. How would the fans react if I marked Versteeg as Huet and Niemi as Sharp?"

The hockey players smiled at the comment, a few chuckling. Howard held a smile on his face that just oozed pride. I smiled back and an awkward silence fell over the group.

"All right, well, I'm going to go and... sit down." Turning I walked over to the unoccupied opponent's bench. Opening the door - not hesitating to brag my knowledge of ice arenas - I stepped in and set the camera that was hanging on my shoulder down on the bench.

A whistle sounded and the boys broke and skated off to continue what they were doing before Howard and I interrupted them. I watched them as I messed with my camera and lenses, getting a feel of how they move. Howard appeared in front of me, leaning on the boards.

"You know you're suppose to take the pictures during the game, right?"

I looked away from him and back to the players, "I need to see how they skate."


"I need to see how they connect. My shots won't be good if I just aim and snap."

Howard smiled and nodded, "Good luck."

"Tell them that, not me." Howard chuckled then walked away.

Holding my camera to my eye, I set in on auto adjust and took a few random shots to see if the shutter speed was right. It was. I took a few more, some with different lenses, some with flash, and was happy to see my camera was in top condition. Setting my camera in my lap, I watched the players connect.


It was the middle of the second period with the score standing St. Louis - 2, Chicago - 0. It was times like these I wish we still had Khabibulin and not Huet. My memory card was partly filled with shots of almost goals and awesome body checks. I stood to the side of the Blues' net, ready to get that first Chicago goal.

But it never came.

Chicago lost to St. Louis 3 to 0.

Howard called my cell letting me know there was a bummer party at one of the player's house and I was invited. It felt nice to know that I was thought of, but I some how couldn't help but feel like I was only invited because of Howard. But still... I went anyways.

Parking in front of a nice town house, I double checked the address before knocking on the front door. The door opened the the sound of laughter and the face of Niklas Hjalmarsson. "Hey, you made it!"

"Yup, I'm here."

"Come on in." Holding the door open I stepped into the building and waited for my host to close the door, "Can I take your coat?"

"Will I get it back?" I teased.

Niklas looked at me for a moment before answering, "Yeah?"

"Then yes, you may."

He gave a smile, catching on to the joke and offered out an empty hand.

Taking my coat off I handed it to Niklas and waited fro him to hang it on the coat rack on the wall next to the door, "This way," he said, leading me to the party.

We entered his living room to find the entire team playing Rock Band, the other boys sitting and talking.

"Hey guys, look who's here!" Niklas called, throwing me to the wolves.

"Hey, hey, hey," called Adam, "It's the new photographer."

I smiled shyly and waved.

"Just ignore him," came a voice from my side, "He doesn't know how to function around women." Turning, I saw Patrick Sharp standing next to me holding two bottles of Budweiser, "Here."

"Thanks," smiling, I took one of the bottles and took a long needed drink.

"Do you play?" Patrick asked, pointing at the game.

"I can, yeah."

"Will you be my singer?"

"If I get to pick the song, yeah."


"Hey, Patrick," called Adam, "We're up!"

Smiling, I followed Patrick to the Rock Band set up and picked up the guitar. "You don't mind if I do both, do you?"

"Can you handle both," asked Adam.



Skipping through the song list, I found the one I wanted, "Is this okay?" The highlighted bar landed on [i]That's What You Get[/i] by Paramore.

"Go for it," said Patrick.

Hitting the green button the song began to play.

[i]"No sir, well I don't want to be the blame, not anymore."[/i]

When the song was over everyone in the room applauded and Patrick high-fived me.

This was going to be an awesome job.


This is an old one, written back when they won the Cup.
Hope you enjoy it anyway! :D


Please update

Psquared91 Psquared91
This is really good :) I like it.. Please update soon!
FreeMySoul FreeMySoul