Full Strength

Fifteen-Logan🏒

        Early Monday morning, Lillian was finishing up packing. She had planned to leave for the airport in five minutes, but I doubted that was going to happen. She was still in pajama pants and had her suitcase open on the living room floor.

        "I don't know why I'm nervous," she sighed, tugging the loose strands of hair that had escaped her ponytail back from her face. "I've flown about a million times. Traveling is easy for me."

        "When's the last time you went home?" I asked, hoping it wasn't some obscenely large amount of time.

        She thought about it. "I think early October. Home opener, y'know. So not long ago."

        "Right." For me, it felt like the home openers had been just yesterday. After all, I'd only played in eight games before gluing my butt to the couch. But in reality, it had been more than two full months since the home openers.

        Lillian looked up from her suitcase. "You're sure that you'll be okay on your own?"

        "I mean, I am a grown-up. I can take care of myself."

        She frowned. "Most grown-ups tend to have the ability to walk."

        "I'll be fine, Lilli," I said soothingly. "You've talked to Eve for about three hours about what to do for me. And I've gotten pretty good on crutches, so it's not like I'm totally stuck here."

        "You can always call me," she said anxiously. "Like, always. Middle of the night, during a game, anything."

        "Of course," I said, secretly thinking I would be calling her (at not so dire times) to hear the sound of her voice.

        Lillian paused in her suitcase-rifling. "It's just for a week," she said convincingly, although whom she meant to convince wasn't clear.

        "Just a week," I echoed. "I'll be okay on my own. No wild house parties, no trying to walk. I'm a responsible kid."

        "See, I seem to remember reading a gossip article about how you went to a restaurant after a game and ordered seven hundred dollars of chicken wings," she said, a smile tugging at her lips.

        I was offended. "That was an extremely responsible decision! A treat for the team."

          "Seven hundred dollars worth?" she pressed, clearly not believing the innocence of the story.

          Thinking back to that night, when we'd convinced Adam to pour an entire bottle of hot sauce over his bucket of wings, then eat the whole thing without any relief, I said, "Yep. It takes a lot to feed a whole team of hockey players."

        "It wasn't your best look, that's all," she said.

        It dawned on me. "You read gossip articles about me?" I asked, a sly grin developing on my face. 

        Lillian's face turned the color of a fire engine. "One time. Only because my dad mentioned it," she mumbled.

        "How long ago was this?" I asked, amused.

        "That doesn't matter! The point is, be responsible," she said firmly, pointing an accusing finger at me before zipping shut her suitcase.

        "Oh, no. You had a celebrity crush on me," I teased. Normally, strangers adoring me was weird, but this was something else entirely.

        "I did not! It was one time!" she said, her face somehow getting even more red. "And I didn't find it attractive! Seven hundred dollars on wings is not the way to a girl's heart!"