Fangs Beneath the Ice

Wren's POV The moving truck wasn't even fully unloaded when I heard someone scream loudly and the next thing I heard was the frantic scrabble of claws against pavement. "Oh, that's not good," Maren said from the porch, watching with entirely too much amusement as a golden retriever the size of a small horse came barreling across the neighbor's yard, dragging a man in a bathrobe behind it like a water-skier. "Bella, no—Bella, heel—" The man yelled, dragging his feet through the grass In a failed attempt to stop the dog beelined straight for me, barking loudly. I stood very still, because this wasn't the first time and I'm pretty sure it won't be the last. Bella stopped three feet away from me and lost her entire mind, snarling now,while her owner was trying his best to hold her back. "She's….never done this," the man gasped, finally hauling her back by the collar. Bella had her eyes on the me the whole time like we'd met in her past life. "She's the sweetest dog, I don't understand—" "It's fine." I smiled. "Dogs just don't really like me. Sensitive nose, probably picking up on my cat's dander or something." "You don't have a cat," Maren called from the porch, unhelpful as always. "I have a cat," I said through my teeth, not looking at her. "We don't have a cat." She retorted and I shot her a glare and she stuck her tongue out at me. Gosh, she could be a pain in the ass sometimes. The man looked between us, clearly confused, still wrestling Bella backward as she continued growling like I was something that needed to be put down immediately. "Sorry. She's usually so friendly. Maybe she's just having a sensitive day." "Sensitive days happen to the best of us." I gave him my most reassuring smile, the one that usually worked on teachers and school administrators and anyone else who needed convincing that everything was fine. He finally managed to drag Bella back toward his own yard, still glancing over his shoulder every few feet like he expected me to sprout claws. "Sensitive dog," Maren mimicked me, the second he was out of earshot, grinning wide. "That's a new one. I liked it." "Shut up and grab a box." "I'm just saying, we've been in this house for four hours and you've already terrified local wildlife. Personal record, maybe." "She wasn't a wild animal, she was a golden retriever." "Semantics." Maren hefted a box onto her hip, still smirking. "New town, new house, new dog population that already hates you. Really strong start." “Shut up Maren.” THE NEXT DAY……. The next day was our first day at Fenwick Hollow High. I made it through the first four periods until the compulsory gym class. I'd been hoping, foolishly, that transferring three weeks before winter break would mean an easy slide into whatever unit they were already running, maybe some low-stakes basketball, minimal contact, minimal chance of anything going wrong. Boy was I wrong. Instead I got handed a stick and a helmet and was informed that the sophomore class had just started a co-ed floor hockey unit, mandatory participation, no exceptions. "You'll be fine," said the girl next to me, Pearl, who I'd met exactly forty minutes earlier in the first period and who now seemed to have appointed herself my unofficial tour guide. "Coach Daniels doesn't let it get too rough. Mostly." The "mostly" should have worried me more than it did. It was fine for the first ten minutes. I stuck to the edges, let the puck slide past me, making sure I wasn't doing too much. All seemed to go well until some guy named DEV that was built like Optimus prime decided I was an easy target. He checked me hard enough into the wall and I went shoulder first. “f**k!” I yelped as the pain shot through me. Most of his teammates cheered him on and it was only Pearl who'd come to check on me. “Common New Girl,” he laughed. “Let's show you how we do it in Fenwick Hollow.” Something in my chest snapped loose and years of restraint burnt off in an instant. I moved towards him, my stick low and I hit him back twice as hard as he'd hit me. He went into the boards with a c***k loud enough to echo off the gym ceiling and he slid down onto the floor in a heap. The rowdy gym went quiet and all pairs of forty eyes were on me. I stood there, chest heaving and for one terrifying second I thought I'd actually broken something in him. What if he's dead? What if he loses his senses?! Some part of my brain was already spinning through the worst-case scenarios, the questions, the attention, all the things I'd moved three states to avoid. "Whoa." Pearl exclaimed, equal parts impressed and alarmed. "Okay Girl." Dev pushed himself up slowly, more embarrassed than injured, muttering something about a rematch that nobody believed he actually wanted, and the gym slowly unfroze into a low buzz of whispers, half of them directed at me. Coach Daniels had apparently been walking the perimeter of the gym the entire time, clipboard in hand, and he'd gone very still near the scorer's table, watching everything unfold. He came over to where I was and waited until Dev had fully collected himself and skated off muttering, and then turned his attention fully on me. "What's your name?" He asked excitedly. "Wren…..Wren Sutter." I set the stick down carefully, aware of how many people were still watching. "Look, if this is about the hit, he checked me first, I was just—" "I saw." He didn't sound angry. If anything, there was something almost pleased tucked into his voice. "You play?" I arched my brow, confused. "Play what?" "Hockey." He said it like it was obvious, gesturing at the stick I'd just set down. "That kind of hit doesn't come from nowhere. You've got real instincts. Good balance, good timing." "I've never played hockey in my life." "Sure." He didn't look remotely convinced, already turning to walk toward the equipment room, waving for me to follow. "Give me one second." He came back less than a minute later carrying a folded jersey, navy and gold, VARSITY stitched across the collar in block letters, and held it out to me. I looked at the jersey then back at him. "I'm not on the team." "You are now." He pushed the jersey into my hands regardless. "Tryouts were technically last month, but I'm making an exception. That was the cleanest defensive check I've seen from anyone in this gym all season, and I include our actual defensemen in that." "I don't want to be on the team." I protested. "You'll want to by Thursday." He was already walking away, entirely too satisfied with himself. "Practice starts at four. Don't be late." "I didn't agree to this!" "You checked a varsity-track defenseman into the boards hard enough to leave a dent." He didn't even turn around. "That wasn't really a question, Sutter. That was an audition." I stood there holding the jersey, the fabric still smelling faintly of someone else's cologne, Pearl already sidling up beside me. "So," she said, grinning. "New girl secret hockey skills. You're already the most interesting person in this school." I facepalmed. “I'm so cooked.”