Malone

“Morning, sunshine,” I greeted Peyton as she stumbled out of her room groggily, her hair flat on one side and completely poofed up on the other. “Sleep well?”

She sat down at the small kitchen table next to me, letting out a long yawn. “I swear, just as I would start to fall asleep, I would hear Max singing ‘A Whole New World’, and the sound was enough to stop me from sleeping.” She shuddered, “I never want to hear any of them sing again.”

I let out a small laugh. “Yeah, that was painful. Tyler wasn’t too bad.”

“He wasn’t too good, either,” Peyton mumbled, eyeing up the plate of eggs and toast in front of me. “Is there any of that left?”
I nodded my head behind me to where the frying pan was, still half full of scrambled eggs. “You’ll have to warm them up a bit, and the toast is up to you.” She nodded, standing up and staggering into the kitchen, her body still drunk with fatigue.

The Karaoke night had lasted longer than any of us had guessed it would. As soon as Staal started with the Disney songs, it was all down hill. Peyton and I mainly sat and watched, unsure of whether the sight was funny or just sad, until all of us were so exhausted and sore from the hours of laughter that we called it a night.

“What are our plans for today?” Peyton asked, sitting down across from me with a plate full of eggs, stuffing a massive forkful of them into her mouth.

“Well, nothing. The guys have practice, and then interviews, and then the game. So, we can do whatever until 3:30, when we have to head down to the arena so we can catch the game,” I reminded her.

She nodded, chewing on the mouthful of eggs before speaking. “Who are they playing tonight?”

“Tampa Bay,” I answered, picking up my now empty plate and heading towards the kitchen to put it in the dishwasher. “That means a few extra studs.”

“You need to make me flashcards for all of these teams so I can appear informed,” Peyton said through a charming mouthful of eggs. “Write down the players and their numbers for me.”

I rolled my eyes. “It doesn’t matter, Peyton. The guys like you even though you know basically nothing about their careers.”

“But I want to know about it!” She argued. “I want to be able to join in on the hockey talk. Make jokes about other players in the NHL, all of that. I feel left out.”

“We hardly ever discuss hockey,” I pointed out to her as I rinsed off my plate. “They don’t want to talk about their jobs all the time.”

“Well, still. I’d like to know more, so if you could help, I’d appreciate it.” She stuffed the last of her eggs into her mouth before pointing towards the bathroom, letting me know that she was heading off to have a shower.

I walked over to grab her plate, letting out a sigh. The internal debate on whether I wanted to be a good friend and help her learn some hockey fights, or keep her in the dark about the game was happening. I put away her dishes, giving my head a shake before I headed off to my room to grab my laptop and a few pieces of paper. If Peyton was putting this much effort into impressing the guys, I might as well humour her.

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“So, 91 is Steven Stamkos?” Peyton asked, flipping through the cut up pieces of paper I had made her. “And he’s only 19? That’s insane.”

I nodded, shivering as I looked down at the ice. Peyton and I were one of the first people to take their seats at Mellon Arena, and the Lightning were already out doing their skate around. Sidney had managed to get us seats that were pretty close to the ice. We were only three rows back, and behind the Penguins bench. “Yeah, he’s a pretty amazing player. My eyes are on number 12.”

Peyton shuffled through a few cards. “Ryan Malone. He used to play Pittsburgh?” She read off of the card, looking up at me.

“Yes, he did. And he is a babe. Too bad he’s married,” I sighed, watching Malone on the ice as he took a few shots at the net.

“You think the Penguins will win tonight?” Peyton asked, putting the flashcards back into her purse.

“Probably. The Lightning have 16 wins, and Pittsburgh has 28.”

“There is just so much to learn,” Peyton muttered, straightening up a bit as the Penguins came out onto the ice.

I took a sip from the coffee I had purchased before Peyton and I took to our seats, watching the players I hadn’t met yet. Max had promised that we would meet the entire team after tonight’s game, and, to be honest, I was more excited about that than the game itself. I watched Bill Guerin as he skated around with his helmet off, his salt and pepper look still working for me. Then I watched Chris Kunitz as he stretched next to Evgeni Malkin, the two of them making small talk as they watched the rest of the team skate around and shoot pucks at Marc-Andre Fleury. I was just about mesmerized by it, the way all of this was still so casual to the players. Like there wasn’t going to be twenty thousand people watching their every move, groaning at their mistakes, booing at their penalties and holding their breath with every scoring chance.

“Where’s Sidney?” Peyton asked, breaking my concentration on the players. “I don’t see him.”

I shrugged, glancing around the ice. “I have no idea. Maybe he just hasn’t come out yet.”

She pursed her lips but nodded. “Oh, there’s Jordan.” She pointed down at him, as if I could somehow not see the ogre.

Jordan skated down to where the bench was, squinting his eyes and scanning through the crowd before he spotted Peyton and I and grinned, his mouth hanging open as he waved at us, lifting his stick up and waving it carelessly, almost smoking Mike Rupp in the face as he did so. Peyton and I waved back, making him take off his glove and give an excited thumbs up to us.

Peyton smacked my arm, startling me as I was still watching Jordan and his excited antics. She nodded off towards the centre of the ice, causing me to look up and over where she was pointing.

Sidney had finally emerged, his gloves tucked under his arm as he was playing with his helmet, taking it off and adjusting the chin strap, resting against the boards as he did so. There was a group of four younger boys standing behind him, all of them in oversized Crosby jersey, staring an awe up at their hero. Sidney seemed completely oblivious as he checked over his equipment, lifting up his hockey stick and making sure the tape was the way he wanted it, before he clanked it against the ice a couple of time and put his helmet and gloves on. One of the boys tapped the glass, almost timidly, causing Sidney to just glance over his shoulder quickly before he turned completely around to smile at the kids, stopping so they could take a picture through the glass. Sidney made a motion to them, skating over towards the centre of the ice and grabbing four pucks before he skated back towards the kids and tossed the pucks over the glass, painting a giant grin on all four of their faces.


“Seriously, where did that guy come from?” I asked Peyton, shaking my head as Sidney skated back over to where the rest of the Penguins were, lining up to take shots at Fleury and Johnson as they took turns in net.

Peyton grabbed her purse, pulling out another stack of cards and shuffling through them before looking up at me. “Cole Harbour.”

I shut my eyes, shaking my head at her before I opened them again and watched the boys continue to warm up, my eyes lingering on Sidney as he laughed with Max, watching Alex Goligoski miss the net by about three feet. Sidney took a shot, a top corner slap shot that Fleury easily gloved, before skating back towards the end of the line, his head lifting up as he slowed down a bit and scanned through the crowd, smiling politely at the few girls who screamed out his name when his eyes scanned past them, before he finally found Peyton and I. He lifted up one gloved hand to wave at us, giving an out of character wink as he did so, before he skated away from the line and went off to start stretching.

I felt someone else’s eyes on me and looked back over at the net to see Marc wasn’t there, Johnson was, and Marc was leaning against the boards in the corner, his mask up and resting on his head as he held his water bottle. As soon as I looked at him, he grinned, tucking his water bottle under his arm, shaking off his gloves, and making a heart shape with his fingers.

I just sipped my coffee, ignoring Peyton’s curious look.

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“Okay, I’m definitely on the Malone board,” Peyton said as he headed down to where the guys had told us to meet them. “Does he have a girlfriend?”

“He has a wife,” I answered.

“So, no?” She joked, tugging an elastic off of her wrist and tying her straightened hair up into a ponytail. “Why are all of the good ones taken?” She asked.

“Because smart girls snatched them up when they had the chance?” I suggested.

“Those girls should be more considerate,” Peyton mumbled, letting out a sigh as we approached the Penguins change room, both of us deciding to wait outside.

It had been maybe five minutes when Kris came running out, already completely changed, and grinned at us. “Did you see my goal?”

“Yes, we did,” I assured him with a small laugh. “It was a pretty goal.”

“It was a manly goal,” He corrected. “A big, powerful, testosterone driven goal. The kind of goal that could impregnate a whole nation.”

“Okay, now that’s ridiculous,” Peyton spoke. “It could maybe get one really slutty girl pregnant, but not a whole nation. And the slutty girl would only let the goal sleep with her because the goal would lie and claim someone else made it.”


“This might be the weirdest metaphor I have ever heard,” I decided aloud.

“Hanna, you would sleep with my goal, wouldn’t you?” Kris asked.

I made a face. “Dude, really?”

He sighed, taking off his hat for a second so he scratch the top of his head before he put it back on. “Fine, my goal wasn’t the best of the game. Sidney’s was. But my goal is like his attractive best friend.”

“Please stop talking about your goal like that,” I begged. “It’s making me uncomfortable.”

Kris grinned, turning around when he heard the change room doors opening. “Sidney, you would have sex with my goal, right?”

Sidney stopped talking to his dad, who was next to him, staring at Kris with most confused expression. “Well…was your goal a girl?”

“No, but I mean, no one is judging you.” Kris replied.

“I am. I am judging you,” Troy said. “Kristopher, really? These are the things you discuss in front of two girls?”

“Well, it was either this or my jock-strap, so…”

I made a face, turning to look at Peyton and seeing that she was making the exact same one.

Sidney let out a small laugh, “On a completely different note, how did you like the game?”

“It was amazing!” Peyton yelled, startling him. “Your goal was really…scored.”

Sidney grinned, “Still learning the hockey talk?”

“I’m trying,” She admitted.

He laughed, looking at me. “What about you, Hanna? What did you think?”

“I think Ryan Malone should have never been traded,” I said. “He is such a stud. And when you checked him into the boards, I hated you a little bit.”

“That was definitely not the answer I was expecting,” He admitted, chuckling lightly.

“I know, I’m sorry. I was just really into the gorgeousness of his face. Honestly, though, you were great,” I told him.

He grinned, “Thanks.”

Troy cleared his throat from behind us, causing both Sidney and I to turn and look at him. “Sorry, I was just reminding Sidney that he has to go talk to the media.”

“Oh, yeah. I guess I have to go do that,” He said quietly, chewing on his lip for a second before he turned back to Peyton and I. “I’ll see you girls later?” He didn’t wait for an answer as he turned and headed down towards the media conference room.

Kris let out a small whistle, causing me to tear my eyes away from Sidney’s retreating figure and look at him as he grinned at me. “He has a nice backside, right?”

I felt my entire face flush as he laughed, smoothing down my hair. “I would like to talk to someone other than you now, thanks.”
Kris placed a hand over his heart. “Ouch, Hanna.”

“I’m with her. I’m tired of you whoring out your goal,” Peyton said.

“Fine, fine. I will go get the rest of the team and we will all head out for a celebration dinner.” Kris said, turning to head back to the room.

“Whoa, we’re all going out for dinner?” I asked. “I am not dressed for that.”

“Where do you think we’re going? To England to eat with the Queen? You look fine,” He said, waving a hand at me. “I’ll be right back. Peyton, if you need to go spray the stuff in your hair that makes my eyes burn when I stand next to you, please go do so now.”

Peyton rolled her eyes at him as he disappeared back into the room before she turned to look at me. “Does my hair look okay?”

I laughed, “It looks fine, Peyton.”

“Fine is not fantastic. I will be back.” She turned and headed off towards the bathrooms, leaving me to stand outside of the dressing room by myself.

I stood there awkwardly, watching as all of the coaches, trainers and equipment managers walked by, some of them shooting me a warm smile, most of them ignoring me. I eventually pulled out my cell phone and pretended to text on it so I didn’t have to make uncomfortable eye contact with every passing person.

“Awww, do you not do well on your own?”

I looked up, blushing slightly as I saw it was Matt Cooke standing in front me. “Well, I was juts feeling awkward.”

He laughed, “Understandable. Sid left you by yourself?”

“Peyton left me, actually. Sidney went to do interviews or something,” I corrected.

He nodded. “You know, you could have gone with him. You can just watch from the side.” I stared blankly at him and he laughed. “Come one, I’ll show you,” He said, heading off in the same direction Sidney had and checking behind him to make sure I was following.

The room was nothing like I had imagined. On TV, all you see is Sidney sitting a table with a microphone, the Penguins backdrop behind him, and you hear him answer the questions that you rarely manage to hear. In real life, the room is packed with reporters, TV cameras, microphones, cameras that are constantly sending off flashes, and newspaper journalists taking notes. I was getting stage freight from just standing at the side of the room, I couldn’t even think about being up there in front of them.

“Hanna!” Troy whisper yelled, earning my attention. He waved me over to where he and a lady stood, muttering something to one of the security guards that were eyeing me suspiciously. “This is Trina, my wife,” Troy introduced me.

I smiled, accepting the hand Trina held out to me and whispering a “nice to meet you” before I turned to look up at Sidney.

He was listening to one of reporters at the front of the room, too far away from me to hear the question. He had his head tilted to the side as he listened, a habit of his I had noticed back when he gave his first interview as part of the NHL. There was something about it that I had always found so adorable. He nodded once the question was asked and took a deep breath before answering.

“I think the key is always team work. We’ve got a lot of great players, all who could be going out and getting three or four goals a night if they wanted to, but that’s not what this team is about. We’re not here to be chauvinists, we’re here to win as a team and be there for each other, and everybody on the team knows that. And I think that’s why we have success. When one person scores a goal, we’re all celebrating. It’s a goal for all of us. That’s how I see it, and that’s how everyone here sees it. And that’s how it should be,” He explained, earning an approving nod from just about everyone in the entire room.

He answered another few questions, most of them just about how he thought Fleury’s goaltending was, before he thanked the room and headed off the stage, making his way over to where I was standing with his parents. He raised his eyebrows when he saw me. “You got tired of Tangers?”

“He left to go get the rest of the team, and then Peyton left to go fix her hair, and I was lonely, so Cooke lead me over here,” I explained. “You are a very charismatic guy, can I just tell you that?”

He let out an embarrassed laugh. “Yeah, I try sometimes.” He made a small face before he looked back at me, “Does Peyton know where you are?”

I widened my eyes. “No.”

He laughed, “We should head back. Mom, dad, I’ll talk to you guys later,” He said, leaning over to kiss his mom on the cheek, making me aww at him.

“I’m sorry if that was boring for you,” Sidney apologized as we made out way out of the room and down towards the change rooms again.

“No, it was actually really cool. I’ve always wondered it’s like in there. I don’t know how you can just be fine with that, either. If I even think about being up on that platform, I would probably pass out.”

Sidney laughed, “It was pretty scary at first. Now it’s just like a part of my daily routine.”

I nodded, crossing my arms as we walked. “You’re probably the smartest person when it comes to forming an answer. I’ve never heard you say anything that could be taken as arrogance, and I’m always impressed with you. I think it’s really obvious that this is what you were meant to do.”

Sidney didn’t say anything for a moment. He just looked at me as we stopped a few feet away from where some of the team was now standing in the hall. He eventually nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he placed a hand on my shoulder, giving my arm a tiny squeeze before he let his hand fall away and moved past a few people to head back into the change room to grab his stuff.

I stood up on my toes to search for Peyton, my eyes landing on the smirking face of Marc-Andre Fleury. He held up his hands, forming a heart once more before he laughed. I pretended not to notice.