I pull out of Dwayne's warm embrace, mentally preparing myself for what was about to happen. His head tilts slightly in confusion his eyes looking into mine. "Dwayne," I start, biting my lip nervously. "Remember how you asked if I would tell you about me, and I said that I would someday?"

The confused expression on his face deepens as I say this. "Yeah, it was the night I got covered in shavin' cream," he nods.

"I want to tell you now," I say, tucking a few stray hairs behind my ear. "I'm ready to tell you now." He nods, and we skate off the ice, climbing into the stands. We plop down into two uncomfortable seats, and I take in a deep breath. "Before I tell you, I need you to answer something for me."

He leans forward in his seat, eyes shaded by his hat and hands folded in his lap. "Yeah, 'course." He responds, nodding his head slightly.

"I just want to know that I can rely on you. I just want to know that you won't leave me. I just want to know that you will be there. Even after I tell you. I need to know that you will be there for me." I tell him, gazing into his chocolatey eyes.

He pushes a piece of hair from my face, smiling at me. "You can trust me, Meg. I'm not gonna leave ya, not now, not ever. I'll always be here for ya. To talk, to listen, to whatever, I'll be here. I promise."

I close my eyes, bracing myself for the waterworks and stumbling over words. "Okay. Here it goes:

"I grew up with my mom, dad, and Dean in Chicago, and it was great. The best time was when we would set up for Christmas in December, because we would fool around while we decorated, and we had fun. But, when I turned five, things didn't go so great. My parents started arguing, and it eventually turned into shouting and yelling. It used to scare me so bad, that Dean would come into my room and stay with me, comfort me.

"After a year and a half of this, my parents filed for a divorce, and a few months after I turned seven, the divorce was official. My mom ran off with some rich and young company owner, leaving me and Dean with my dad. It hit my dad really hard, because he loved my mom so much. He started to bury himself in work, starting earlier and coming home later. Dean raised me, basically. I was raised by my nine-year-old brother. My dad didn't talk to us or listen to us as much, he was always working. But, it was nothing compared to what my mom did.

"My mom and George, the company owner, got married two years later, and we weren't invited to the wedding. She said our invitation 'must have gotten lost in the mail'. Fast forward a year and a couple of months, and my mom has a baby. A boy named Dennis. I've only seen him once, and that was when I was eleven, a few weeks after he was born. Now, my mom's expecting again. It's a girl this time. They're naming her Margaret, or Maggie for short. She's going to be two years younger than Dennis. Just like I'm two years younger than Dean.

"My mom hates us!" Tears are running down my face, sobs choking up my words. "She didn't like her first take at marriage and kids, so she's trying again. She did this on purpose! Instead of Dean and Meg, it's Dennis and Maggie. She, she, she-," I can't seem to say it aloud.

Dwayne places a hand on my back, whispering quietly. "It's okay, Meg. It's okay."

I breathe through my mouth, trying to calm myself down enough to spit the words out. "My mom," I whimper, lip quivering still as tears continue to fall. "she replaced us." I'm full blown bawling again, and Dwayne wraps his arms around me, letting me cry into his shirt. I need to think of something else to make myself stop crying. "Dwayne, what were you going to tell me, that night I ran off?"

He laughs quietly, giving me a squeeze. "It's not important right now, Meg. It's not important right now."

Once my sobs turn into hiccups, I lift my head off his shoulder, cracking a small smile. "Sorry about your shirt," I motion to the tear-stained gray tee that now stuck to his shoulder. I wipe my eyes off while he shakes his head and smiles.

"Don't worry 'bout it," He stand up, holding out his hand to me. "C'mon, we should get to bed. We have the Iceland game tomorrow, and ya need to get some sleep."

I reach up, grabbing his hand, and it encloses around mine, surrounding it in warmth. We make our way through the stands and out of the rink, hands intertwined. We quietly climb the dorm house stairs, turning down our hallway when we need to. Dwayne drops my hand as we stand outside my door.

"Thanks, Dwayne. For listening," I say, turning my head towards the boy.

He leans down, brushing his lips across my forehead. "I'll always be there to listen, Meg. I'll always be there for ya."

*****************************************************************

We head into the locker room, getting out gear on when Adam walks in, hockey stick in hand. I raise my eyebrows, slipping on my padding while staring at the scene. "Coach," he starts. "I woke up and the pain was gone." He turns the stick in the way Coach asked him to before.

We all smile and cheer on the return of our friend, but Coach's face has a frown. "Adam, I'm sorry but we already have a full roster," Coach replies. I had forgotten about recruiting Russ, filling up Adam's place, and now I feel guilty because I was responsible for it.

Russ starts to take off his uniform, but Charlie stops him in the process. "He can have my spot," Charlie speaks out, making Coach's head turn towards him. "It's what I can do for the team. Let me do it."

"Charlie," Coach says, and I instantly feel nervous for what he is about to say. "I need you on the bench, coaching right there with me." We cheer for Charlie, just as we had Adam a few moments before. Russ doesn't have sarcastic or mischievous smile on his face, but one filled with real happiness and gratitude.

We head to the ice, cameras flashing and people whistling for us. Gliding out carefully, we turn to our side of the rink, where we warm up, taking practice shots, and stretching.

Coach calls us over to the bench, and we skate over. "Heads high! Stand tall! Fly straight! USA!" Coach chants, while we reply, "All the way!"

The starting lineup goes out for the starting faceoff, and I plop down on the bench next to Julie and Dwayne.

Averman takes the first faceoff, but he gets shoved down, the Icelander winning the puck. Guy gets crushed as Goldberg retrieves the puck from behind the net. Dean collects the puck from Goldberg, but he gets slammed into the wall. Iceland shoots the puck, but Goldberg hits it with his foot, saving the goal.

The Icelanders get the rebound, one of the players hooking Goldberg's foot with his stick, making him fall. My mouth falls open as the game continues, for the fact that they didn't call that. Dwayne gives me a reassuring look as he climbs onto the ice, and I grumble under my breath. I'm very competitive, okay? Goldberg dives into the goal, but the puck flies in, the siren signaling a point for Iceland.

One of the Iceland player says something to Goldberg, causing him to skate out of the goal. Dwayne and Ken grab his arms, keeping him from doing something that could hurt the team.

"Line change!" Coach calls, leaning in towards the bench player. "Guy, Jesse, Meg. Russ, you ready?" Coach asks the newest player as the rest of us jump on the ice. "Get out there."

USA loses the faceoff, again, and Russ get shoved into the wall by two players who hold him there for a few second, before throwing him to the ground. Boos are heard throughout the stands, the loudest from Russ' brother and the street puck team.

Russ gets up, skating a few yards from the goal, calling for the puck. Dwayne glides it to him, and he flips it on its side, ready for the knuckle puck. As he raises his stick to lift it, an Iceland player dives down, sliding the puck away from him as well as knocking him down.

Iceland skates down the ice with the puck, doing some fancy handling and shit to get the puck into the goal. They shove us into the walls, dominating us physically. Seriously, what do they feed them in Iceland?

Adam comes onto the ice, replacing me. I quickly sit on the bench, happy to be out if that brutal game. I'll be surprised if we can get through this game without anyone dying. Adam gets the puck and starts to fly down the ice, but and Icelander hits him, hurting the already bad wrist. We all fly up from the bench, yelling at the referees as Coach pushes us back down.

"Hey ref! Why don't you call something for crying out loud! He almost took his arm off!" Coach shouts as they offender gets put in the penalty box for two minutes.

Adam comes back onto the bench as people switch off, and Coach removes his helmet as I slide down next to them. "I'm okay," Adam says, the same thing he said when he wasn't.

"You sure?" Coach asks, doubtfully and concerned.

"Yeah," Adam replies. "I'm fine. It just hit the pad. Really." Adam rotates his wrist showing no visible signs of injury or pain. I rub his shoulder, my way of silently saying "you go, Adam!".

Coach pats his back, standing up from his previous squatting position. "Way to hang in there, Adam. Great playing." Coach walks over to the glass separating the two teams, glaring at Stansson.

The game continues as Connie passes the puck to Luis, who snaps it to Dwayne. He dodges the Icelanders, handling the puck with expertise. Just as he's about to pass it to Dean, he gets shoved down from behind, losing the puck to Iceland.

"It's okay, it's okay," I mumble encouragement under my breath while I tap my feet. I will not let the Iceland team take away my perseverance or my confidence in my team's ability.

Luis chases the breakaway, catching up quickly. Luis trips, sending himself, the Icelander, and Goldberg into the goal, which slides back and hits the wall. The puck, however, slide in as well, a third point for the opposing team.

"Show me the Flying V! Let's go, let's go!" Coach sends some of original Ducks out onto the ice to do the play, bringing off a few of the current players.

Jesse lead the V, but Iceland crashes it by running straight into him, causing the USA team to fall down. Iceland gets on a breakaway with no defense except Goldberg, and they score easily as Goldberg dives at their fake.

The second period begins, a 4 to 0 score. Averman once again takes the faceoff, and once again, he doesn't win it. I glance down the bench to see Dean and Fulton bumping hands, then pulling on their signature headwear. I roll my eyes as they climb onto the ice, and I rest my face on my hands, pushing up my cheeks.

Despite how angry I am at my brother, I still stand and cheer with the rest of the team, including Dwayne who should be mad as well, when the two "Bash Brothers" go out and crush an Icelander against the wall. They knock down another player, one who had the puck, screaming as they did. It's quite hilarious, actually, to see these two act like this.

Iceland gets the puck, shooting, but Goldberg saves it, finally. Ken retrieves it from behind the net, skating down the ice with it. As two Icelanders try to smash him in between again, he does a fancy figure skating move, the one that failed before. It works this time, however, and Fulton gets the puck that Ken leaves behind. Fulton snaps it to Ken who scores. Our first point of the game!

Ken turns to the goalie, probably attempting to trash-talk him, when the goalie starts to come after him. Ken spins around, doing what Russ' brother showed him: stick, gloves, shirt. The referee comes over and breaks the two apart, and Ken skates off, asking "What did I do?"

Coach, with a shadow of a smile on his lips, tells us, "Alright, alright, alright. Groom up, groom up. We still gotta a lot of work to do."

The referee places Ken in the penalty box, and Dean and Fulton start screaming loudly. The bang on the glass of the box, saying "Little Bash Brother!" and "He's our man!" and other various cheers for Ken.

Dean and Fulton throw off their helmets, skating around the rink, arms in the air to rile up the stands. "Hey, you guys, c'mon!" Coach tries calling to them, but it's no use. "Let's play hockey!" The beat on the glass while the fans cheer loudly for the two.

Goldberg doesn't help as he encourages the behavior. I roll my eyes as Fulton fist-bumps everyone on our team, but I still do it. After that, he hits the helmets of all the Iceland bench, making their heads fly down. Dean follows in the other way, doing the same thing to the opponents. They make stupid faces at the Iceland team before the ref blows his whistle.

They're put in the penalty box with Ken for "misconduct". It doesn't faze them, however, and they continue to bang on the glass, the fans clapping and cheering.

Coach tells me to get on the ice, but Charlie stops me. "Hey Meg, be careful out there. They're gunning for you."

I roll my eyes. "I'll be fine, Charlie. Don't worry." I skate out onto the ice, adjusting my grip on my stick as I glide into position.

The game goes on, and while I'm skating, I'm slammed against the glass, falling on my back. The Icelander who did it looks over me and laughs evilly. Ass. I pick myself off the ice, glaring as the offender hits the glass of the penalty box, stirring up Fulton and Dean, who both stand up.

Iceland shoots the puck, but Goldberg stops it, and it hits the wall behind the goal. I skate over to collect it, but it's stuck, and I struggle to get it. Coach yells something to me, but I can't hear it, and I'm focused on getting this puck.

I do hear, however, a "Yeehaw!" from familiar country accent. "I'm comin', Meg!" I glance up to see the same Icelander from before speeding towards me and Dwayne spinning his rope above his head. The auburn-haired boy lassos the Icelander, pulling him away from me.

I meet eyes with Dwayne, who smiles and shrugs. He pulls the Icelander up from the ice, glaring at him. "Now, you listen 'ere. Where I come from, we treat ladies with respect!" he spits, anger lacing his voice.

I push him lightly out of the way. "Thank you, Dwayne. But, I'm no lady," I say sweetly before turning to the player. "I'm a pure-bred city-slicker!" And with that, I shove the brute down easily, his back hitting the ice with a loud bang. "C'mon!"

Dwayne laughs, a smile wide on his face as he glances at me, while the ref drags him to the penalty box for "roping". The Icelander stands up, trying to grab me as I turn around and skate away, but he trips and falls on his stomach.

I roll my eyes playfully at Dwayne when I stop in front of the box. "Way to go, Cowboy," I tease him.

"I told ya I'd be there for ya, didn't I?" he asks, though I know it's more of a statement. I skate to the bench, my face burning up. However, I couldn't help but smile at what he said.

I jump over the wall, and Coach comes over, making sure I'm okay and not hurt. The game continues, not much happening, just back and forth. The buzzer sounds, and Coach frowns. "This isn't a hockey game, it's a circus."

Everyone on the ice climbs into the bench, where we head into the locker room, followed by a very unhappy-looking coach.

Oh, no.

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