“Oh.” Another learning experience. Go figure. “What time?”
“Show starts at nine.”
“We can go after,” he’d suggested slyly. “The game starts at five.”
“It’s a deal then.” She’d agreed, putting a white sheet of paper in front of him with one word on it. “Now, what is that word?”
“Volcano.”
“Look again.” Toni-she’d insisted he start calling her Toni if they were going to work together four times a week-had put a clear blue-tinted sheet over the page. For some reason, the change in color helped him shift his focus.
“Tornado,” he’d corrected himself, shaking his head. “Why do I do that? I’m so stupid.”
“No you’re not. You’re just dyslexic.”
“Which means stupid,” he’d countered.
“Did you know Thomas Edison was dyslexic?” No, he hadn’t known. Every time he put himself down, she always managed to find a way to build him back up. “So was Albert Einstein.”
“Really? Mr. E Equals M.C. Squared?”
She’d laughed. “Your memory is amazing sometimes.”
“Yeah, and then I can’t tell the difference between a volcano and a tornado,” he’d grumbled.
“You know the difference,” she’d insisted. “You just have a hard time with the symbols that represent the things.”
He’d beamed at her. “Hey, maybe someday, some tutor will tell another guy like me, ‘You know Henry Baumgartner, the famous hockey player? He was dyslexic.’”
“Anything’s possible,” Toni had agreed, turning his focus back to the work at hand.
She was a slave driver sometimes, but she claimed he’d gone from a third-grade reading level to a sixth-grade one in just the short time they’d been working together. He’d even managed to write his own paper for her class, and she’d been willing to give him an oral exam separately from the rest, which he’d passed with a ninety-six percent. He understood theme and symbolism in The Great Gatsby perfectly well if he didn’t have to spell it.
Now Henry sat enjoying the fruits of his labor, his first goal of the year showing on the scoreboard above, the woman who was responsible for his progress sitting proudly in the stands, and now there was Libby, too, sharing the moment. He wished he could go talk to her, ask her why she hadn’t called. It was probably a roommate thing, he’d long ago decided. Elaine wouldn’t talk to him-was probably mad he’d gone after Libby. And Libby probably just felt a normal loyalty toward her roommate in the whole thing. It put him in an impossible position.
Libby’s not here just to see you, he reminded himself, secretly hoping she was.
Her presence buoyed him so much he scored again on the very next shift, carrying the momentum of the goal he’d made just five minutes earlier. He felt the pass coming to him long before it was on his stick. He had sensed it coming moments before, when they were all tussling in front of their own net on the other end of the ice. He didn’t know how he knew, couldn’t explain the incredible body awareness he experienced on the ice, but he could anticipate, not only his own teammates’ moves, but the opposing team’s as well, with eerie accuracy.
That’s how he knew to put a rush of speed on toward the net, sensing a defenseman in red moving in behind him but he would be unable to check or block Henry-he was too fast. There was a pass coming from the right, unseen but coming anyway, and he put his stick out for it, stopping the puck’s trajectory without another thought and not even looking at the net before pulling back to take the shot.
The puck went in over the shoulder, the goalie twisting to get it, upended, staying there on his ass, winded and cursing himself for missing the shot, as Henry howled and pumped his fist in the air. The four of his teammates who were on the ice surrounded him, cheering and jostling and there was more of that again at shift change, guys slapping him on the back, the coach giving him an approving wink.
They won the game two to one, and both his team’s goals belonged to him.
He was flying by the time they headed off the ice toward the showers, and then Libby was waiting for him. How she’d managed it, he didn’t know, but she was standing outside the locker room, hugging herself against the cold and smiling. He wanted to put his arms around her to warm her up. Hell, he just wanted to put his arms around her.
“Hi Henry.”
His teammates trudged by him, admiring the girl he stopped to talk to. “Hey.”
Just be casual, he told himself, taking off his helmet and tucking it under his arm. His heart was thumping like a rabbit’s.
“I just wanted to say great game.” She had to crane her neck way up at him because his skates gave him several inches in height.
“Thanks.” He couldn’t help smiling, even though the expression felt too big and goofy on his face. “How’ve you been?”
“Oh, you know.” She shrugged one shoulder. “Busy.”
“Yeah, me too.” They just stood there. Smiling. It was kind of awkward, but then again, it wasn’t. Henry said the first thing he could think of. “How’s the library?”
She laughed. “Still standing.”
“Well that’s always a plus.” Henry couldn’t keep his eyes off her and tried to make conversation so his staring wouldn’t seem so obvious. “Seen any good vampire movies lately?”
“No, I haven’t been out to a movie since…” It was the first time her gaze shifted away from his. “Well, I’ve been busy.”
Impulsively, he took a chance. “Want to go?” When she didn’t answer, he pushed ahead, ignoring the vibe she was putting off, hoping it was just nervousness. “To a movie?”
A movie. That reminded him that Toni was taking him to a movie after the game and he had to get into the shower. For some reason, the thought made him feel guilty, as if he was betraying someone. Going out with Toni, even just to some artsy education movie, excited him. He couldn’t even say why, and wouldn’t have admitted it out loud to anyone, especially Libby. But it was the truth.
“What’s playing?” Libby asked.
He shrugged, his grin widening. “I don’t have a clue.”
“I don’t know, Henry. I just don’t think it’s a good idea.” Libby sighed when she saw him frown. “Maybe…maybe after we get back? I’m going home for break. My parents live in North Carolina.”
“That’s far.” Henry was already ridiculously planning the road trip in his head.
“Anyway, I’ve gotta run.” She reached out and touched his arm. He couldn’t feel much through all the padding and she must have known it because she found his wrist, bare skin between his glove and his jersey, squeezing there. “I just wanted to tell you…great game.”
He tried to think of something to make her stay, watching her retreating form, and called out, “So I’ll see you January?”
“I’ll be here.” She waved back at him and then disappeared around the corner.
The Michigan Theater was hardly crowded, even on a weekend. Art movies, especially foreign, were popular in a college town, but this was an old one. “An oldie but a goodie” as Toni had said. Henry had vaguely heard of it, but had never seen it.
Toni picked their seats, somewhere in the middle, and there was only one other couple in the place besides them.
“I don’t know if I’ll be able to follow this,” Henry admitted in a low voice. The screen was black-no previews or pre-show garbage to clutter it up. It was eerily quiet.
“You’ll do fine. It has a real story.” She shrugged out of her coat and he admired the way her skirt rode up when she crossed her legs and turned toward him, revealing the tight hug of her brown suede boots around her slender calves. “It doesn’t jump around like a video game.”
“You’ve seen it?”
She laughed, a sound that was as familiar to Henry now as breathing. Although at one point, he never would have thought the dragon-lady was capable of laughing. “I think it was required viewing when I was in college.”
“So what did you think of the game?” He tried to sound casual, but he really wanted to hear her opinion. He’d asked her to come to the game for a reason. He’d wanted her to see, wanted her to understand how important it was to him.