I wandered around the airport looking for my brother. I knew he would be hard to find because he would be trying to hide his face. Why would he do that you ask? Maybe because he is Sidney Crosby.

My name is Gemma Berlyn Crosby. Most people call me G. Yes; I am in fact younger sister to Sidney Crosby. I am 21 years old. I graduated high school early and went straight to medical school. I am going to work with Sidney’s team and be a trainer for injuries. I don’t really look much like Sidney, you’d be surprised. We both have the dark brown, curly hair, but my eyes are much lighter than his. A trait I never really understood.

I was actually quite nervous to see Sidney. I have been keeping something from him. I have a boyfriend (who is moving in with me, we are getting an apartment in Pittsburgh) who hits me. Sidney knows about Jackson, just not the hitting and all. Jackson has always been verbally and physically abusive to me.
I had some scars from where he hit me, and actually I have a black eye from last night before I left. As I wonder around I am trying to come up with an excuse of how I got the black eye. Fell down the stairs? No. Slipped and hit my eye on the sink? No. Ran in to a door? Maybe. I suppose that could work. I ran in to a screen door. Sure, that works.

I finally spotted Sidney sitting on a bench in the corner with a hat on. We made eye contact and he smiled. He ran up to me and hugged me.

“I missed you so much G!”

“I missed you too Sid! How is the team?”

“Really good! They are excited to meet you.” He said calmly as he pulled away from the hug, immediately noticing my eye. He gasped slightly.

“Oh my god, what happened to your eye? It’s swollen and bruised.” He interrogated me.

I sighed, hoping my excuse would work. “I walked in to a screen door. I didn’t see and just walked right in to it.” I lied.
Every time I lied to him it stung so much. I hated keeping things from him. I didn’t do it often, I just couldn’t tell him about Jackson.

He nodded, resting his hand on my shoulder, taking a closer look. It made me uncomfortable. I started to worry he didn’t believe me. He just kept examining my face and ran his finger across the back part of my jaw. I flinched slightly.

“There is a mark there too. What happened?” He asked me again, as if my first answer wasn’t enough.

I started to panic a little on the inside. He knew something was up. He knew I wasn’t being fully honest. That was something about Sidney that some may say is a good thing, but for me it was the worst possible thing. He knew when I was having a bad day, even when I threw on a fake smile and told him I was doing great.

“I, um, I told you it was the screen door.” I tried to explain again, hoping he would just drop it.

His eyes showed disbelief in me. “How did you get a bruise on your jaw from a screen door?” He continued to ask me. Why was he asking so many questions? Doesn’t he trust his sister? Oh wait, the fact I was lying might be a good enough reason.

“It just happened. Why don’t you believe me?” I questioned him.

He replied back, “I do believe you, just wondering.”

Before he could say anything else, Kris Letang and Beau Bennett come up behind him.

Kris says, “So this is Gemma. Nice to meet you finally.” He stuck his hand out and I gratefully shook it .

“Nice to meet you, Kris. And you can call me G.” I responded.

He laughed, “Funny, that’s one of our nicknames for Geno. Oh and speaking of nicknames, feel free to call me Tanger.”
I nodded in approval of the hockey-given nickname.

Beau Bennett went right for the hug. I hugged him back lightly, sort of taken by surprise.

“I am Beau.” He whispered in my ear, his lips almost touching my ear.

I pulled away awkwardly. “Gemma.” I simply replied, not announcing my name nearly as romantic as he did. He winked, and Sidney noticed.

“I wouldn’t be hitting on my sister, she has a boyfriend. And if you did even try and hook up with her, I may just beat the shit out of you.” Sidney said in a serious tone to Beau. Beau shot his hands up in an innocent form and Tanger just chuckled.

“Anyway, how is Jackson?” Sid asked me.

I replied, “Oh Jackson is doing good.” I said simply. I didn’t want to go in to much detail.

He nodded, “He is coming in to town tomorrow, right? You guys are going to move in to the apartment?”

I let out a slow breath. “Yea he is coming tomorrow. We are going to get our stuff unpacked and then do whatever.”

He nodded. He grabbed my suitcase and I picked up my duffle bag and we headed towards his vehicle with Beau and Tanger. Once we got back to his house, I saw a bunch of cars parked outside his house.

“Why are there so many cars here?” I asked Sidney over the loud radio.

He didn’t hear me and continued to sing to the radio, “When I am not with you, I lose my mind.”

I sighed, annoyed that I have to repeat myself. “Sidney, why are there cars here?” I spoke up slightly louder.

Sidney’s terrible singing still over-powered my voice, “Give me a siiiiggggnnn.” His impression of Brittney Spears was horrendous.

I huffed. “Sidney!” I semi-shouted, getting very displeased with his obnoxious singing.

“HIT ME BABY ONE MORE TIME!” Sidney sang at the top of his lungs, his singing just getting worse.

“SIDNEY!” I yelled over him with all my might.

His head slowly turned towards me as he turned down the radio with a small smirk on his face, ”Yes?”

I glared at him, “Okay, first of all, your singing is terrible. I think you broke Beau’s ear drums.” I pointed back to Beau who looked in pain and was covering his ears.

I chuckled at his face.

“I think you are the worst singer in the league.” Tanger commented.

Sidney laughed, then got a devilish smile, “You know Gemma is probably the worst hockey player I have ever seen, but she can sing. For real, she is a great singer. She sang the national anthem at the championship hockey game every year at her old high school.”

I hated when he talked about my singing. I used to be in a lot of musicals and things like that, but after high school I didn’t have many more singing opportunities. I would love to go back to singing, but I could not find anywhere to sing when it isn’t just for fun.

Beau smiled, “I want to hear you sing some time!” Tanger nodded in agreement as we got out of Sid’s car and made our way to the door. I still didn’t know why there were so many cars outside.

I laughed sarcastically, “Riiiiight. Sorry, but that isn’t happening any time soon.”

Tanger and Beau pouted and put on their best puppy-face. I rolled my eyes. Sidney said, ”You know, mom actually gave the entire family copies of videos from your musicals.” He said it as if he was going to show them. He continued, “And speaking of those videos…”

I looked at him with confusion, but deep down I knew what was going on. I raised my eye brows once it finally processed. He unlocked the door and swung it open. I walked inside and saw the entire team sitting in Sid’s living room watching the tape of me as Christine from The Phantom of the Opera during my sophomore (10th) year at high school. A few of the boys looked towards the door, while the rest kept their attention towards the television. It was up close to my face and I was singing Think of Me. My face turned bright red from embarrassment.

The boys were looking at the TV were very focused on my voice, while the boys looking over were smiling and waving. I just stood there. I turned my attention to Sidney who was smiling at the boys and the fact that my face was all big on the TV. I glared at Sid.
“Sidney.Patrick.Crosby.” I spit out. “Why in the hell would you show them this video.”

He just smirked, “When I was telling the boys about you, they wanted to hear to sing since they knew you could, so I showed them the video.” He said as if it was no big deal.

“Oh my god, it is so embarrassing though!” I semi-yelled at him. Some more boys looked over, noticing I was here.

Geno and Marc-Andre made eye contact with me and laughed. Geno spoke up, “No worry Gemma. You sing great.” His broken accent made me feel in a slightly better mood.
Marc nodded, “You can really sing. Those notes you hit are sick.”
Duper (Pascal Dupuis) commented, “Where do you get your singing abilities from? They clearly don’t come from Crosby Croaker over there.” He pointed over to Sid, referring to him as a terrible singer.
I didn’t know where I got my abilities. My mom sang in a children’s choir when she was a little girl, but that’s about it.

I shrugged at Duper’s question and took a seat on the couch between Sid and Beau. I turned towards Beau and saw him on his phone texting some girl. I felt a little sting from the fact he was talking to another girl- wait, what?!

Notes