Roxanne Delaney pushed her food around on her plate, disinterested in everything around her. Diane, her stepmother, was chatting happily about how the Edmonton Ladies Society had recently gotten a new member, one they previously had seen unfit ("She used to dress like a street urchin until she met that young lawyer. It was a most fortunate decision on her part!"). Rolling her eyes, Roxanne sat back in her seat. Diane was a very selfish and materialistic woman, one very much unlike her real mother.
Dave Delaney had remarried almost a month after his wife, Sarah, had died of breast cancer, something that bothered Roxanne immensely. Diane had two children, two irritatingly perfect boys, who took up all of Dave's time. Roxy was just the sulking teenager in the background, who was only there because she had no choice.
Her cell phone vibrated underneath her bottom. Diane had a "No cell phones during dinner," rule, and Roxy had to learn to adapt. She patted her lips with the napkin, asked to be excused, and rushed to her bedroom. Flipping the phone open, she saw the text she'd been waiting for:
Hi-ho, sailor.
Roxy's bags were packed. She was ready to go. Zipping up her hoody, she opened her bedroom window and saw her best friend standing on the ground, arms open to catch the two duffel bags that held her belongings. Roxy dropped them both, carefully passing down her art easel and several boxes of paints and sketchpads.
"I'll be right down," she called to her friend, closing the window.
The last thing to do was to place the letter she'd written under her dad's pillow, a place only he would find it and not controlling Diane. Tucking the envelope into her back pocket, Roxy turned to go to the doorway and instead found herself face-to-face with Tex, Diane's oldest son.
"Where you going?" he asked.
"Away from here," Roxy snarled, pushing past him and heading to her father's room.
"You going with a boy? Boys don't like you, you know. You're ugly."
"They like you, though," Roxy snapped, opening the door and rushing in, slipping the letter under the pillow and taking off down the stairs. Before anyone could object, she was out the door and into the passenger seat of her best friend's car.
"Do you think my dad will miss me, Mandy?" Roxy asked as they sped out of the driveway, Diane's figure just barely visible in the front door window.
"I think you're making the right choice," Mandy replied quietly, "Don't worry about what he thinks."
"You're right. This is my dream." She paused. "Well, part of it anyway..."
"It's a stepping stone along the way."
"And it's ten times better than what's back there."
"Sure is."
-
Anton Lander smoothed back his hair and sighed, content with himself. He watched the girl walk out, her little apple bottom visible beneath the tight skirt. Another night, another puck bunny down, or at least the last Swedish one.
Meaningless sex was what he did, but it wasn't what he lived for- hockey was his true passion, and in a matter of months he'd be playing in the NHL. As he stood in the shower, letting the hot water fall over his toned body, Lander had to marvel. He had everything; looks, money and now, the career he'd always dreamed of.
His cell phone had been going off all night, but he was ignoring it. Probably just Magnus being anal about him missing the morning skate, he thought. Towel around his waist, he casually picked it up and looked at the screen.
It was an urgent array of texts from his friend Jacob, around 8:20 the night before. Magnus' (his teammate) mother had been in a car accident; a drunk driver had hit her car head-on. She was in the emergency room and was hanging on for dear life. He was supposed to be there. They were all there with Magnus. Things were looking bleak. Where the hell was he?
Lander practically floored it to the hospital and was met in the ER waiting room by Bjorn, Magnus' younger brother. His friends, Jacob Markstrom, Oliver Ekman-Larsson, Tim Erixon and Anton Rodin were all there. Magnus was seated in the corner, his face in his hands, the news clearly given. Lander felt his heart sink as Bjorn shook his head.
"I'm....I'm so sorry..."
"We've been here all night," Jacob snapped, "If you'd answer your fucking phone instead of nailing that-"
"Jacob, nej." Oliver said softly.
Jacob rolled his eyes, "Whatever. At least I have my priorities straight." He rushed past him and out the exit, followed by Oliver and Rodin. Bjorn sighed, "I need some air," and followed.
Magnus barely moved when his best friend sat down next to him, "Magnus...I-"
"Don't worry about it," Magnus said quietly, "It was a hopeless case, anyway. They tried to help, but she'd already lost so much blood, it was pointless..." He paused, his voice cracking, "Dad's still in South America on business, I can't get through..." He glanced at his friend, his eyes red from either not sleeping, crying or both, "Dude...I need to get out of here..."
"We're going to Edmonton tomorrow," Lander said slowly, "Remember?"
"Yeah..." Magnus nodded, "NHL camp."
Lander seemed to read his best friend's thoughts, "You know your mum would want you to go no matter what."
Magnus swallowed, "Yes, yes I know..."
"And we're going," Lander told him, "Both of us. You're not alone, alright? Remember that."
A tiny smile rested on Magnus' mouth, "Thanks."
