Free Any Way You Slice It by Kristine Carlson Asselin

this. This is why you’re my BFF.”
    She smirks and rolls her eyes. “Yeah, right. I know. I’ll pick you up in two hours. Be ready or you’ll be late for your shift.”
    â€œThanks, Mom.”
    She shoves me into the door.
    I’m on the ice just after practice starts. The guys are already racing up and down the rink. I step over the threshold, and ease into the movement. My muscles are tight, but it’s not bad. I extend my legs and try to take longer strides. Skating with all the gear is easier today, too.
    â€œHey, Blades!” Jake gives me a thumbs-up. “Looking good.”
    Some of them look surprised to see me again, but tiny Jimmy Flores gives me a shy wave and then stumbles. Mark Temple nods a greeting.
    I put my head down and focus on the drill. Skating back and forth from the blue line to the red line.
    During a break, I stretch out my legs on the bench.
    Jimmy nudges me. “Are we really going to start winning now that you’re playing with us?”
    â€œI have no idea.” I try to laugh it off, but his face is dead serious. “No pressure or anything. I hope you’re not all putting your hopes and dreams on me.”
    He shrugs. “Coach thinks you’re going to bring us luck.”
    â€œSeriously?”
    Out on the rink, Temple takes a shot and Carter completely misses the block. All of us on the bench cheer for Temple’s goal. When the noise dies down, Jimmy is still waiting for an answer.
    I think about lying to him, but I surprise myself. “Probably not. But so far I’m having a good time, if that counts for anything.”
    If Coach is putting all his faith in my ability, he’s deluded. Or he’s remembering my dad’s glory days with a little too much rapture.
    Jimmy nods, kicking the leg of the bench. “Well, for what it’s worth, having fun is good. But it’s nice to win, too. So I hear.”

    On Thursday, a freshman I’ve never seen before high-fives me in front of my locker. Two minutes later, a tall kid salutes me without saying a word.
    Caroline Chapman stops loading her backpack and looks at me.
    I ignore her and call out to Lori across the hall. “Did my dad air another one of those old commercials?” I’m racking my brain to figure out what I’ve done to get so much attention.
    She stares at me from across the hall. “Duh. Pen. Hockey much? Rink Rats.”
    I smack my palm against my forehead. I can’t believe I didn’t recognize the guys from the team without all their gear.
    When Ethan Carter slaps me on the back and says, “Great practice yesterday,” Caroline can’t keep her mouth shut any longer. He’s a fashion crime on two feet, wearing a black corduroy jacket over an old concert T-shirt.
    â€œWhat the hell have you been doing, Penelope?” This is Caroline’s golden chance to butt her nose into my business.
    We all turn and watch Carter walk into the bathroom. Caroline hits my arm. “Are you suddenly the mascot for Team Reject?”
    â€œWhat are you talking about?” I’m oddly elated at the thought of the guys giving me respect. I’m just embarrassed I didn’t recognize some of them. I don’t know how to put it into words, but it feels good to be treated like part of the team. Yesterday was better than the first practice, almost like they’d accepted me—everyone except Johnson.
    When Jimmy Flores nervously skitters by and sort of half waves before running down the hallway, Caroline’s eyebrows are halfway up her forehead. If I don’t meet her eyes, I can pretend she’s not staring at me with a mixture of awe and revulsion.
    A minute later, Jake Gomes strides toward us, his dimples on high beam. Yesterday, under all his hockey stuff, I couldn’t see the wave in his hair or the way his eyes sort of sparkle.
    He punches me on the shoulder. “I’m wicked glad you decided to play;