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| My photos are so much lamer since I started respecting copyright. |
It’s autumn, back to school, cooler nights and you know what
that means: hockey season! At this time of year, I’m filled with optimism that my
team will have their best season ever. But that’s because they’re full of potential and haven’t yet broken my heart. I’m sure you can sympathize, since most fans experience emotional highs and lows during the long hockey
season.
Ironically, I find it easier to write in the off-season,
since I’m not watching hockey games all the time. And I’ve been writing and
editing a lot this summer. If you have already read Hockey Is My Boyfriend, you know that there are three parts. Part One was released on July 21st. And Part Two should be released around the
beginning of the hockey season, which is October 8th. I’ve got my fingers
crossed—as well as my legs, toes, and eyes—that all the revisions will be done by then.
Meantime, what to read? I’ve written a short story that
links Parts One and Two. If you’re on my mailing list, I’ll
be sending it out on Monday. If you’re not on my mailing list, there's a place to message me at the bottom of the righthand sidebar. If you haven’t even read the book yet, what are you waiting for?
Here’s a sneak peek of the short story, French Kiss, for you.
October 2004
Kelly
Kiana, my next-door
neighbour, and I were walking back to our residence after a late breakfast. It
was the Saturday of the Thanksgiving weekend, and our residence had emptied
out. Everyone within driving distance of home had fled Montréal, and the
building felt strangely forlorn.
“I feel like a
loser since I have nowhere to go for Thanksgiving,” Kiana complained. But she
wasn’t a loser at all; she had turned down multiple invitations because she was
trying to get a big assignment completed. “It’s not like I could have gone home
to Oakville anyway. My parents are in Istanbul right now.”
“No way I could
afford to go home to Vancouver.” I missed my family and friends a ton, but the
airfare alone would have been over $600. Besides, I had games on Sunday and
Monday.
“Ahmed told me
that the foreign students are doing a Thanksgiving dinner, with turkey and
everything, on Monday. Did you want to go to that?”
“Actually we’re
doing a team potluck after our hockey game. Since we’re all here anyway, one of the
assistant coaches offered to host. I’m supposed to bring a dessert. What should
I get?” No way I was cooking, but dessert was easy; I’d zip over to Provigo and
buy something.
“Pumpkin pie,
of course,” Kiana said. But I figured someone else would do pie, maybe even
bake one. I liked chocolate desserts better.
When we got up
to our floor, we could see a guy hanging out down at the end of the hallway.
“Who is that?”
Kiana wondered, squinting. “Oh boy, is that Carl? I thought he went back to
Ottawa.”
Carl was the “hot guy” on our floor. Kiana, as well as half the girls here,
had a crush on him. Possibly she saw this as her big chance to be alone with Carl
and work her charms.
“I thought
everyone else left,” I said. It felt empty enough. When we got closer, the guy
turned around at the sound of our voices.
“Not Carl,”
Kiana whispered to me. “But something even better. Who is that hottie?”
I sighed. “It’s
my ex-boyfriend. But what the hell he’s doing here, I do not know.”
