10

                                    

                                          
Sam comes over almost every day. Sometimes we study math. But usually we watch movies, or read through comics, or just sit in my room. Hailey plays with us, too.
                          
It's nice, having him over. Ethan is my best friend, but we don't really hang out. I don't know. It's just different. Okay?
                          
We're watching a movie on the couch, sharing a bowl of popcorn, when Mom groans loudly.
                          
"Everyone be quiet!" she says, and Sam and I turn to look at her. She's leaning against the wall, cradling the wall phone on her shoulder and looping the cord around her finger. Yeah, I know, the old wall phone is outdated. But it still works, so why not? 
                          
Hailey comes sprinting out of her bedroom with two other girls, all laughing loudly. "We're hungry!" says Hailey.
                          
"Shh!" hisses Mom, shooing Hailey and her friends away. "I'm on an important call - oh, hello? Yes?"
                          
Hailey leans over the couch, her friends following her lead. "What are you watching?" asks Hailey loudly.
                          
"A movie," I say. "Be quiet, Mom is on the phone. Go outside or something."
                          
"It's too cold outside!" Hailey complains. She's right, though. We had our first snowfall a couple days ago. 
                          
"Go bother Veronica."
                          
Veronica and Paul are sitting at the kitchen table, their hands intertwined. Veronica laughs at something he says and I try not to barf. That guy is the worst.
                          
Mom pushes the phone tighter against her ear and her mouth hardens in a tight, straight line. Everyone is so loud, I can barely hear the TV anymore. Honestly, this house is way too small for eight people to be crammed in the kitchen and living room. 
                          
Sam looks at me. "Do you want to get out of the house?"
                          
"Sure."

~
                          
The snow from a couple days ago has melted, but ice still lines the edges of the road. I stick my hands in the pocket of my coat, my boots crunching on frozen pebbles and my breath coming out in clouds. 
                          
"Where do you want to go?" says Sam. We're walking slowly down the empty sidewalk, bare trees shaking in the breeze. 
                          
"I don't care," I say. 
                          
"What's your favorite place in St. Anne?"
                          
"The neighborhood rink."
                          
"Let's go there. I haven't been there in forever."
                          
"Okay."

~
                          
George turns to us and grins broadly as we walk through the front door.
                          
"Cameron!" he says, walking towards us quickly despite his limp. "Sam!"
                          
I glance at Sam and smile. George never forgets anyone's name. 
                          
"Hi, George," Sam says. His cheeks are tinted pink from the cold, but I think he's blushing. 
                          
"I haven't seen you in years. You're much taller now!"
                          
Sam laughs, and George pats Sam's arm. "I'm sorry, the ice is busy right now," George says apologetically. Over his shoulder, I can see there's an ice hockey lesson going on. Little boys that can't be older than four are stumbling around with tiny sticks and big helmets. 
                          
"That's okay," I say. "I don't have my skates anyway. We just wanted to walk over."
                          
"Oh, perfect," says George. "By the way, the Lions are playing great! I'm cheering for you!"
                          
"Thank you, George," I say. He beams.
                          
Sam and I lean against the boards and watch the little kids fumble around on the rink, sometimes teetering over. A young woman I don't recognize is placing tiny orange cones around the ice. I rub my hands over my arms.
                          
"That's what I did," I say. "When I was little. Played here, I mean." I can tell Sam is looking at me. 
                          
"You must've been good."
                          
"I don't know. I don't think anyone is good when they're four."
                          
We watch as a player swings his stick like a golf club and clips the edge of a puck, and Sam smiles. "Are you excited to leave?" he asks.
                          
"What do you mean?"
                          
"Leave for the NHL. You could be playing in any city, right?"
                          
"I guess I'm excited. I'm going to miss it here, though."
                          
"Yeah."
                          
I glance at Sam. He's watching the kids with bright eyes.
                          
"Are you excited to leave?" I ask. 
                          
"Yeah," he says. "I think so." He looks at me and smiles softly. 
                          
It's not hard to imagine leaving St. Anne. The world is so much bigger than this small hockey town. But at the same time, it is hard. 
                          
"You know," says Sam. "I don't really invite people over, but would you want to? Come over to my house? My uncle is picking up Chinese for dinner."
                          
"Okay," I say. All the time Sam's been over at my place, I've never been to his house.

~
                          
It's even smaller than mine. And kind of messy. But his room is exactly as I imagined it. There are NASA posters and constellation maps hung on the walls, and books are spilling out of the crammed shelves. Papers and textbooks and pens are stacked neatly on his desk, and outside the front window, you can see the railroad tracks. 
                          
"I like your room," I say, picking up a thick book off the ground. "War and Peace. Any good?"
                          
"It's alright," Sam says, smiling. 
                          
The front door opens and the smell of Chinese food immediately unfurls in the air. His uncle raises his eyebrows at me as I step out of Sam's room.
                          
"Hello," says his uncle. He's wearing a button down shirt stained with grease, and his voice is as gruff as his weathered face.
                          
"This is my friend Cameron," says Sam. "You know, the hockey player. Cameron, this is my uncle."
                          
"You can call me Tom," says his uncle, and he shakes my hand. 
                          
"Nice to meet you," I say. 
                          
We eat in the living room, a hockey game on the television. Sam was right - Tom is a huge fan of hockey. He spills his rice when he stands up and hollers at the television. Sam and I look at each other and laugh.
                          
Yeah, I don't do this with Ethan. It's just different. But it's nice. Okay?