Too Long Gone
I’m not going to go on and on about how I seemed to disappear from the writing world. I’ve had to get a “real” job before I went crazy sitting in front of the computer by myself all day. So, my freelancing has gone down to bare minimums.
The cool thing is this frees me up to work on my Young Adult novel “Desert Ice”. I’ve gotten around 26000 words written. I’m trying to accomplish 50,000 words by midnight on November 30th (National Novel Writing Month nanowrimo.com anyone?) Anyway, here’s an excerpt:
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Max concentrated on long strides. Just keep putting one foot in front of the other. Now turn. Right over left. Right over left. His face burned from sweat trickling down his cheeks. Puffs of breath crystallized the air in front of him. Two more steps then straighten out. He watched Hannah’s back in front of him and kept his body even with the white “31” on her jersey. One more step. Max’s left skate caught under the blade of his right foot toppling him forward. He put his hands out in front of him but even the padding on his thick gloves did little to deflect the impact as his palms slammed against the ice. Crack! His shin guard made a hollow sound as he hit his knees. Losing his grip, the used Bauer flew out of his hand skittering across the ice. Eric flew by, spraying him with a cloud of ice.
“The idea is to stay on your feet,” Eric commented flipping around so he was skating backwards a smirk across his face. With little effort, he flipped back around his long strides easily and quickly making distance.
Max slammed into the boards just after his stick did. Pulling himself to his feet, he saw all his teammates lined up on the goal line ready to charge back across the ice. Coach Kumpula skated towards him from center ice.
“You’re doing better, but you have to learn to control your legs around the turns,” he said.
Max felt his face turning crimson under his face mask.
“I know, Coach,” he replied. Trying to avoid looking his coach in the eyes, he picked up his stick. Man, I know I can get this. Max started around the face off circle as all but one of his teammates passed him going the other way.
“Was your mom able to get your skates tied up tight enough?” Hannah asked when he reached the other side. Max liked Hannah. She was an amazing skater. When he watched her streak across the ice it was no surprise she had been skating since she was two. The youngest of seven children, Hannah was the only girl. Her mom had put her in figure skating, but finally gave up when she kept finding her in her brothers’ hockey gear. When she got her first stick, she had refused to do anything without it, even taking it into the bath with her. It was no wonder when she handled the puck it looked like she was using an extension of her arm.
“Yeah, but she still has a hard time with them,” Max replied. He was a little embarrassed when his teammates brought up the fact his mom had to help him with his gear. It was all so new and bulky. He had learned to put on the shin, elbow and chest pad. He could finally shimmy his socks and pants on over the top. Usually he could get the jersey down, but sometimes he still would get tangled half in and half out of it. In the two months he had been playing ice hockey he had gotten better at that as well. But, for some reason, he still struggled with his skates. When he put them on and even if he strained over the laces, they never seemed to be tight enough and he would wobble on the ice. His ankles went every which direction and his skating was worse than ever. Sometimes Coach would have him skate back to the bench. Putting Max’s foot up on the bench, Coach would effortlessly pull each X tight and wrap the ends around his ankle twice. Patting the final foot twice, he would send Max back on the ice. Even though his feet felt better, inside his stomach churned. No one else needed to have their skates tied. So, having his mom struggle with the laces before practice was better than facing his teammates.
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It’s just part of the draft but I’m very excited!!!!
