Story #5

Admin Posts : 677 Join date : 2022-02-03

One to Go

Cast List (in order of appearance)
Danielle Reyes
Calvin Buzzard
Natalie Negrotti
Tiffany Rousso
Stephen Slimm
Kelsey Faith

It wasn’t always about the game, Danielle had learned. Honestly, it seldom was.

Oftentimes it was about perception. How her potential ragtag team of hockey players would be looked at if they all got together and really did the damn thing.

But what stayed in her mind most was the perception if they didn’t.

It wasn’t really the groan from the stands that lingered, heavy; not the sighs and frustrated kicks from her team the day after, mumbling and mulling over every missed shot, every heavy, slow step on that frigid ice. Most of all, it was the averting of her coach’s eyes. It wasn’t necessarily disappointment, but there was a distinct sadness there, swimming languidly just past their lash line, quivering but refusing to break free. It refused to lapse into anger, but it was unmistakably there. Perhaps it was the fact their career depended on their success that so much tension could lie there. They’d chosen working with her, bettering her, as opposed to their individual pursuit of sport climbing. Perhaps it was an innate sympathy to Danielle’s own drive and unwillingness to accept defeat. Maybe there was more to it. Regardless, she’d do anything to avoid that solemn stare, as that downcast gaze seemed to bore holes into the floor at her very feet which she’d slip into with ease. Their disappointment and the team’s disappointment, well, it would more than match her own. Almost.

It was the final match where they could make a difference. It was make or break. Only 10 women’s Ice Hockey teams were to be at the 2022 Winter Olympics this year. So the same went for them. Only 10 would qualify for the BBGames Olympics. And currently? They were not one of them. Not unless they scored an extraordinary amount. Or another team got bumped down and out.

They’d played 2 of their 3 tournaments. Each one would be heavily scrutinized with such few tournaments for qualification. The other nations’ casts were… incredible. They had yet to face Canada, but lord only knew how talented a nation whose essence was quite literally saturated with hockey fanaticism day in and day out… One could only imagine how strong a team consisting of the likes of those such as Neda, Cassandra, Naeha, Kaela, Paras, and Ika would be like…

She shook her head.

Two down, one to go.

But the confidence wasn’t there. Her team was a ragtag bunch, runner-ups, broke, desperate. Her face hardened.

She took a step forward, skates in hand, the laces undone and hanging limply over her arms.

Its blades glinted.

***

Natalie Negrotti, since she was a child, had always done cheer. Any other sport was not even a thought in her mind. She was ambitious and competitive, but that good-natured competitiveness stayed right there. It stayed in a passion for cheer, for tumbling, leaping, being lifted above others’ shoulders so dangerously; if they dropped her and it all went black, it’d not be so bad. Not for her. Never for her.

“Natalie,” her teammate, Tiffany, shouted from behind her, and she whipped around. Tiffany Rousso was part of the base, and she somehow, without fail, was always the one holding Natalie up. It made for strong legs, a strong core, and overall, a strong build for any sport. But she was here, now, for Natalie.

Until she wasn’t.

“Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Yeah, of course, Tiff,” she replied, eyebrows knitting together gently in a quizzical stare. Tiff’s tone was a bit less airy than usual, the high-pitched lilt gone for a moment.

They entered the locker room, and that’s when Tiffany broke the news. She couldn’t afford cheer anymore. Not unless she was better at it. Not unless she was more at the forefront. But as a base? She was never getting anywhere with it. Vanessa, her sister, had gambled their money away, which was not much to begin with, and there was no way to stay afloat. The city was even too expensive. She’d be moving away.

“What can we do?” Nat asked, eyes open and earnest.

“Nothing, Nat,” she chuckled. “I just wanted to tell you first. Unless there’s something else we can do, something where I don’t need the funds, this coaching, maybe something more suited to me.” There was a mistiness in her eyes, and Nat just hugged her quietly, silently thinking of other avenues before heading back to the practice mat, Tiff sitting in the stands waiting for practice to end, their huge, absurd mascot, Jammy, wandered, and normally the vibrant colors made her smile, looking at its ridiculous face, but right now, she didn’t want to see a damn thing associated with cheer.

Right now, the mascot’s huge, white eyes lined in red only seemed menacing. She wished it was a big, fuzzy chinchilla, or something instead. Maybe it could wear a cute little cuffed shirt, with head and ears disproportionately large in a cute way, rather than a menacing one. Instead, she was stuck with long nosed, green, purple and yellow thing. The cost to be in this place was becoming more and more palpable by the second.

One, two, three, lift

As Natalie was lifted this time, without the steadying grip of Tiffany beneath her, she let herself fall. Just a little tip backward. A little less steadiness in her ankles. A refusal to lock her knee.

Gasps permeated the air, but the thud was the only sound she needed; the only echo in her ears.

Tiff didn’t have to know she’d look for a new sport or a new job just to be together. She was just… scared of another accident in the air. Yeah. That was all.

***

Danielle, coming off of her Big Brother loss, well, she needed some way to feel like a success again. She’d received letters. Copious amounts of fan mail, telling her she was robbed, telling her the Jury was bitter; telling her all the confidence was warranted. But she didn’t win the money. It’d been nine down, two to go. And one sure went, Jason did. She’d made it to the chairs she’d always wanted to be in.

But the last didn’t go. 82 days. 9-1, it was over as easily as it started. The time, the effort, the energy; well, it didn’t sit right. It festered.

Danielle was a calm person by nature. But sometimes she just… she really wanted to hit something. It’s just a game, is what she used to tell her father as a teen as he got crazed watching football and hockey on the television. “Look

It’s more than just a game, he’d reply, barely looking at her, passion and frenzy in his eyes, a grin gracing his lips.

She’d shake her head, bemused.

But now? She got it. Americans cheering for her, booing her, it didn’t matter; but at the core, it was more than just a game, at least Big Brother was. It now saturated her life. Turned her way of thinking into something… different.

Being loved by a Jury, being “kind,” over being smart and driven were valued. Many preferred a healthy swirl of strength and pleasantry. Ambition without callousness. Something tailor-made, neat, and pretty for the show. For the game. For everything.

Every quip with her friends, every interaction; purpose and motive stayed in mind until Danielle could be only loved. If she’d ever get to participate in something so grand again, she’d remember that.

Maybe it was toxic.

Maybe it was necessary. Necessary to know and embody.

One thing about Danielle though was that she truly did read the letters she received. There was something so pertinent about feedback; about passions. It was reality. Her reality.

Reality tv, sure, would worsen over time; it’d become more addled with the prompted, the nudged, and the orchestrated. But it was reality to them.

It was reality to her.

She sifted through her fan mail, and one in particular struck her. It was on an envelope with some kind of anime print on it. The paper was a mottled cream color, and the print was a faded, rusted old orange, and it smelled faintly of… pears?

She opened it, and, well, it was lengthy. It was categorized and color coded- She was perplexed, to say the least. Just, rambling, and rambling about her game abilities. Her potential for physical strength. Her affinity for strategy. An analysis of the game. It was almost as bad as her friend Rae, who quite literally never shut up about it the game either…

The letter was signed, CalBuzzy… She didn’t recognize that name, or that tag. But at the core, it was a proposition to be her coach. As a self-proclaimed BB encyclopedia, Calvin and their friend, fellow Historian Stephen Slimm, were scouring the country to put together a team, an unsuspecting team readying themselves for the 2020 Winter BBGames Olympics, which would be filled with international CBS stars around the world.

Calvin’s plane boy, Dale got them in touch with CBS productions and on a flight right to the studios to pitch an idea. Contestants had done sports matchups before on a smaller scale, like boxing, and they wanted to… think bigger. So, the rest was history, because if there was one thing about Calvin and Slimm, it was that they could talk their way into something. With rich athletic histories, a willingness to contribute their knowledge out of sheer passion for the game? They were shoe-ins for coaching their respective US teams. But they’d have… quite a few consequences upon failure. The network joining with other networks, from Canada, to the UK, to Australia, to France, to the fanaticism of Brazil, well, it was no small feat. It was in good faith that the networks would create something universal. Something exciting for the somehow-growing fanbase. Giddy for the game though, and eager to be a part of production for their grand new scheme, they were ready. And they’d make their personal US team, Calvin taking the reigns on the training, and Slimm taking the time for extensive interviews and media management.

Everything was denoted on the letter. And there was something that the two intrinsically understood: Second place is the most motivating placement of all. Any player deemed robbed? That’s where the recruits would be taken from.

She was in.

***

Tiffany and Natalie received the letter soon after. As did Janelle. Alison Irwin. Diane Henry. Dani Donato. Porsche Briggs, Kalia Booker. Britney Haynes. Becky. Vanessa. Hannah. Jessica. Haleigh. Rockstar. There are six positions for players in hockey, and they’d be perfectly assigned into their respective roles. And better yet… there was incentive for them all. Money.

Tiffany’s eyes widened at the offer, with Natalie at her side, who’d been following her since her fall. They needed that money if they both wanted to move, if they both wanted to care for their families; even Natalie had cost herself with her own “accidental” fall; medical bills aren’t cheap. Not that other sports would be less dangerous, but, maybe the sturdiness would be something to build from.

Nat had been on track to cheer for professional football teams. She could be on the Challenge if she wanted, she thought. But to be by Tiff’s side, to encourage the cohesion essence together, she was willing to go all in on something that would have free training, and Vanessa was the same; she needed to be there as much as her sister. Natalie would be by their side and train.

There was a catch though. Medaling was the only option. If not… they’d be dedicating months of training, trials and tribulations for… not a cent. It was high risk, high reward. Time that could be spent looking for jobs? Time that could be spent working and paying rent? Scrapped for months trapped away training. There would be tests of endurance. Speed. Focus. Perhaps five hours doing nothing but the games, staring ahead. Research; fast research. The oddest of tasks, really, would be hosted to them.

It wasn’t too unfamiliar for them though. This time, though, there was no stipend. Just a scrappy pair of coaches for the event of their choosing: Ice Hockey.

Calvin was actually irked at their own lack of foresight not asking to host a Summer Olympics when they could coach Sport Climbing, and Slimm just found it amusing. Slimm wasn’t even going to put the USA team on his draft, in all honesty. He was too much of a realist.

***

Danielle was the first to show up to training, shaking Calvin’s hand politely, reproach and wariness in her eyes, but a keen respect for the ambition, not to mention the opportunity in of itself. Tiffany and Natalie followed. Then Janelle, nodding at the other woman, and Dani, Porsche, Kalia, all rolling in as a tight squad, ready to be a team.

It turned out… Big Brother wasn’t exactly something that provided longevity with its “fame.” Take it from BB9 winner or BB21 winner. Even money doesn’t last. And with everyone so highly scrutinized. They needed this. In the nation today? There was an underlying desperation there.

***

Danielle, blades in hand, slipped into the locker room. Not her own. Not her squad’s.

It was dark.

***

Practice ensued. Day in, and day out. Danielle learned about thing she didn’t think she would. And she learned that sting of second and third was still felt by people she barely considered friends before as well. Janelle, Alison… There was something there that everyone felt there was something to prove.

But not to themselves. They knew they were good. They knew they were worthy.

It was still about perception.

“Danielle!”

She heard her name echo over frigid air, and she snapped to attention on trained instinct; Calvin was a good coach. Right. Practicing. Over and over.

Regardless, she smiled at Janelle, who’d wrist shot the puck toward her at rapid speeds. She was… getting along with everyone. It was like a family. Even Tiffany and Natalie’s squabbling grew on her.

But most of all. It was the late night dinners. It was three months of training, throwing themselves together as haphazardly as a Jamaican Bobsled team, but in that time, that freneticism there was bonding. They needed the money.

***

One final match. Canada or USA would be the last to qualify.

Their goalie has an injury. Kelsey Faith. Not someone anyone respected, really. They all watched in hushed gasps as it was announced the week before. But she was healing. She was being treated in a hospital nearby.

“It’s horrible” came the hushed whispers.

Danielle’s eyes flit to her BB sisters though. Horrible.

But the girl was recovering, and she’d beat them. She knew it.

She whipped another practice shot into the net.

“Let’s just do out best. I hope she’s okay,” came Natalie’s whisper. Tiff’s nod. Janelle looked bored with the blonde girl on the screen. All Danielle could hear was that announcer voice stating that Canada was still the pick to win.

She looked at Alison. She looked at Porsche. There was an indifference. A neediness that matched hers.

***

She took the blades and crashed them heavily into Canadian gear, unblinking. She was tearing priceless material and slicing until it ruptured into splintered wood and chipped paints. Soon she’d be slicing something even more priceless, though.

She left without a word, her body now on autopilot, walking to the hospital, untraceable.

Making her way through the hospital, she bore flowers, 6 roses, thorned. She was there out of respect, of course. That’s what she told the nurses and staff. She was clearly a hockey player.

Peeking into the room, voice as sweet as honey, she greeted the injured Kelsey, whose blue eyes fluttered open gently, seemingly gracious to see a face, any face, greeting her even with a cloying, pink smile.

Uneaten tater tots laid discarded on her hospital bed’s tray, frayed blonde hair splayed out on the pillow practically matching its color.

A nurse bustled her way in there with a whiny voice, glasses, and a messy bun, taking away the tray and murmuring, well- whining, that Kelsey needed her rest.

Danielle agreed. She needed her rest.

As soon as the nurse, Nicole or something, she didn’t know her name, left, she approached Kelsey slowly, tilting her head to scrutinize her soft features. Kelsey Faith wasn’t mean to be a great Hockey player, she thought. A goalie, really? How did miss Kelsey Faith, who could not even possibly fall into the “robbed” category by anyone’s standards except for beside two idiot brothers, ever land herself in the position of strongest base.

Goaltenders wore different equipment than the rest of the team, and they were masters of efficient edgework; they needed proper save selections, and good positioning and stance throughout. If Kelsey was trained for goaltending, no one else was, surely. It was too different of a position.

And that’s the thing.

Perception was reality.

She didn’t cut into Kelsey’s IV with a different kind of blade, small and precise, because no one saw it. She didn’t avert her eyes as Kelsey sputtered for breath, jolting up as she felt something distinctly wrong within her, because no one saw it. Kelsey’s body wasn’t becoming destabilized because no one saw it.

There was no Diary Room session to get the inner workings of Danielle’s brain on camera this time around. The only one who knew what she was thinking was her. And to her, well. She’d just won the game.

She walked back calmly, nothing appearing awry on her face. She got back to practice. She reunited with her BB sisters, who had scarcely noticed her absence aside from Tiffany and Natalie, who greeted her with nervous excitement for the game. The field was still empty, as the Canada team was waiting on some of their members, and thus there was no reason to practice yet. The field was hers for hours before anyone would arrive in the stands.

She skidded onto the smooth ice, ice screeching beneath her. Despite the heavy gear, she felt she could almost be a figure skater, innocent as a dove, with not a soul seeing her fangs. She grinned.

She stretched out her arms in the empty stadium, feet moving beneath her as if on instinct, 1, 2, 3: she stretched out her arms feigning a slapshot, right toward the empty goal, that, beautiful, empty goal, and fireworks went off in her mind.

Suddenly the crowd was cheering around her, raucous applause running through the stands, the stench of sweat from her teammates pervading her senses, the flames of victory in her eyes.

As blood trickled to the floor in a steady drip, drip, drip; a crimson hourglass splashing to the tiled flooring as if the clock for her own personal game’s victory. Drip, one step closer, drip, two steps closer, drip, three steps closer, drip, a score. Another.

A hockey game consists of three 20-minute periods, marking about an hour’s worth of gameplay, but of course the game takes longer with a 15-minute intermission and the like. Overall, the length of a game is about the span of time a human body can live without the proper treatment for injuries.

Drip. The sound of scarlet sand bouncing to the floor.

Sponsorships for Tiffany, enough to support her family and make a name for herself.

Drip. A gentle splash.

Natalie staying by her side, settled into a sport again but with the proper means to do it.

Drip. Choking gasps.

A smile on Calvin’s face.

Drip. Something congealed.

The Black Widow’s grin.

Drip.

Danielle’s eyes lit up on that empty field. We won.

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