Going Places by Fran Hurcomb Page A

tired of the boys. Some of them are getting awfully big and mean.”
    â€œWell,” she said, “I was talking with Milly Smithers…you know, the wife of that new rcmp corporal. They have three girls who all played girls’ hockey back in Newfoundland.” I’d seen the girls at school. One of them, the middle girl, Daisy, was in my class. Our school is small—a total of about two hundred students from grade one to twelve—so new faces really stand out. Daisy and her sisters were the topic of many conversations. They seemed friendly, but they kept to themselves. Having an rcmp dad probably meant they had more rules to follow than most of the kids in Fort Desperation.
    â€œJust because it happens in Newfoundland doesn’t automatically mean that it will happen here, Mom,” I pointed out. “This is the Northwest Territories. We’re, like, thirty-five years behind the rest of the country in everything, including girls’ hockey.”
    â€œNow you know that’s not true. We do have the Internet now.” She did have a point. The Internet had arrived in Fort Desperation two years ago. It was slow, but it was here.
    â€œAnyway,” she continued, “if you’d like, I could do a little research online. I think Yellowknife has girls’ hockey now.”
    â€œMom, Yellowknife is big. They even have a Wal-Mart. We have George’s Trading Post and Video Rentals. It’s just not the same. You can’t compare us to Yellowknife.”
    â€œHoney, couldn’t you try to keep an open mind for a few days? Ask around. You never know. There might be some other girls who’d be interested. Playing withgirls might actually be fun, and besides, you’re less likely to get hurt.”
    Ahaaaa…there it was…the real reason for this sudden interest in girls’ hockey. Last year I’d broken my collarbone in a boy’s game against Hay River. That Melvin Laroque plays so dirty. I never even saw him coming. He flattened me into the boards and skated away with a big grin on his face. They took me off on a stretcher. It was so embarrassing. It made me feel a little better to hear that my teammate Michael Greyeyes beat him up after the game. But still…I was out for the rest of the season, and that sucked.
    Boys’ hockey was rough, but I was used to it. The boys in town try not to kill me and the other girls, but in the last year or so some of them have grown so much that it even hurts when they lean on me in the corners. I sometimes feel like I’m surrounded by giant aliens. Boys from other communities aren’t always so nice. In fact, it sometimes feels like they’re out to get the girls, just to let us know that they think we shouldn’t be playing hockey.
    â€œMom, girls’ hockey might be totally wimpy. They don’t even allow bodychecking. It would be…” I tried to think of the right word. “Dainty!” I said finally.
    She laughed. “I can’t imagine you or Sam or Geraldine ever being dainty, dear. Sorry. Anyway, think about it a bit and talk to the others. You never know, it might work.”

Chapter Two
    As I walked down the main road after school the next day, trying hard not to break my ankles in the frozen ruts, I did think about girls’ hockey. In some ways, it seemed like a good idea…to have other girls to change with would certainly be more fun. Right now, we had to change in the bathroom off the lobby, one at a time, while the boys got to monopolize the two changing rooms. And I had to admit that even though I had been playing with these boys since I was seven and knew them inside out, I really didn’t feel like I belonged with them anymore. Some of them would be quite happy if girls never played.
    This year I was supposed to play Bantam. I have one of those end-of-the-year birthdays that alwaysleaves me younger than everyone else on the team. My parents let me stay