wednesday
Drew’s practice was running long again, and while Mack knew she couldn’t fault her brother for it, she was annoyed with him anyways.
It was Wednesday, which meant instead of driving home after school like she typically would, Mackenzie was stuck waiting for her older brother to finish chasing pucks so he could drive her the twenty minutes to their two-story across town.
Coach Hooch didn’t seem to care if her practices wound up eating into an extra hour, in fact she practically expected it to happen.
So Mack sat up in the observation deck, on one of those obscenely high stools, swinging her feet and trying to get a signal on the dying iPhone in her hand. A futile attempt was made, and she was back to tracking her brother's padded form as he skated around the ice with the rest of his team, the Guelph Gryffins. The white 61 stood out sharply against his red jersey.
From up above, she could clearly make out the concentric circles their coach had them skating. Coach Hooch always included a seemingly odd cooldown at the end of her practices, but ultimately the Gryffins had some of the most agile skaters in the league so obviously the white-haired woman was doing something right. When they trained like this, their movements often looked more like a dance from such an angle. Their jerseys, a maroon blur of intentional motion. A fact Mackenzie dared not share with any of the team, as they would surely throw a fit over such a description.
A loud whistle blew in three short bursts, signaling the end of practice. The boys took their cue instantly and filed off the ice, retrieving their water bottles as they passed the bench. Taking a moment to hydrate, a still-helmeted player waved up at the observation deck, having noticed Mackenzie’s presence when she arrived an hour earlier.
She chuckled and waved back good naturedly, recognizing the 55 on his jersey immediately. Her classmate, George Weasley.
Catching onto his friend's behaviour, the player to George’s right knocked the defensemen upside the head.
“Stop waving at my sister.” Andrew groaned, aware of the reputation many of his teammates possessed.
“Oh, DK,” George clicked his tongue, scoldingly. “I’m not the one you should be worrying about.”
He motioned across the ice where their center, Cormac Mclaggen, was idling. Not-yet in the tunnel. He wasn’t even attempting to be subtle as he ogled the girl above.
“Eh, Mclaggen! Hit the showers.” The older teammate ordered, earning Andrew what he was sure was an eye roll under the kids cage. “Slimy bastard.”
“I was just saying hi, dude. Practice ran long, she’s probably super bored. And pissed. I’d be pissed.” George explains, reassuring his buddy as they leave the ice.
“You're lucky, man. Your sister gets it.” Andrew admits, taking off his helmet and wiping his face with a Gryffins towel.
“Lucky? See how lucky you feel when your sister’s on the ice with you.” George hissed quietly, knowing if Ginny overheard she’d make him regret it. See, Ginny Weasley grew up in a house with six brothers, three of whom currently rotated lines with her throughout the season. Each of the Weasley boys played in the minors at some time or another, and Ginny was no different. All it took was a mistake on every form and permission slip since she could skate.
While Mrs. Weasley spent years pregnant and hoping for a beautiful daughter whom she could finally share things in common with; Mr. Weasley nurtured all of his children’s love for the intricate game equally. The result was a last name known throughout the league in abundance but not necessarily longevity. The three oldest brothers hadn’t made any lasting impressions and went quietly into generic adulthood after aging out.
“D’you think she’d rather wait for me to shower, or deal with my BO on the drive home?” Andrew inquired, pulling off his shoulder pads and stuffing them into his maroon bag.
“Your stuff’s gonna reek anyways, so you might as well save time.” Fred, George’s identical twin suggested from behind them. His trade-mark red hair, wet and falling messily against his forehead.
The Weasley’s were a family of gingers, the whole clan of them. Which meant that nine matching heads of fiery red hair could be found repping Gryffin colours on and off the ice. Four of whom were about to pile into their father’s blue Ford Anglea and ride to their farm just outside of town.
“Thanks Freddie, you’re a genius.” Drew admitted, untying his skates and pulling off the rest of his gear. Attempting to keep Mack waiting for as little time as possible.
But just before he reached the door, his captain, 19 year old Oliver Wood, addressed the team. His Newfie accent easily distinguishable from the rest of the team's voices.
“Listen up, B'ys." Oliver, bare from the waist up, stepped to the middle of the room, just behind the lion etched onto the floor. Never on-top-of, or it earned the player two extra hours of dry-land training the following day to undo the curse . Oliver had a lot of superstitions like that. Some of the guys would admit amongst themselves that he could be a bit intense. “We’ve got the Mythic Cup in 3 days. This is our year, I can feel it. I just want to say I’ve loved being your captain, and I’m going to miss you b'ys. I reckon I’ve got the rest of my life waiting for me after this, but I'll be there the once pullin' my weight. I is wantin' ya to eat, sleep and breathe this damn tournament. We's got the opener against Kenora on Saturday. We’ve gots to give it our all, b'ys.”
“Dead right, Woodsy.” Harry Potter, the team's star center, stepped up to his mentor and patted his bare shoulder, before noticing the amount of sweat that now coated his hand and immediately regretted it. “We’ll win you that trophy, Woods. Right, boys?”
Andrew whooped alongside his team once, because he really did wanna kick ass at the tourney, before pushing open the bright yellow locker room door. Waving a hand hlaf-hazardly in farewell.
“Hey.” He greeted his younger sister, who was leaning, one foot behind her, against the wall a few feet away.
“Hiya,” She nodded towards the now closed locker room door, “I could hear Oliver’s heart to heart from out here. Are your tears dry enough to drive safely, now?”
“Oh leave Woodsy alone, we’ve lost to the Saginaw Slytherin every year, he wants a win. We all do, Mack, that’s kinda the point.”
“Ugh, I know,” She huffs, in acceptance, “Sorry, I’m just annoyed Hooch kept youse for so long. Didn’t mean to dismiss your dream, man, for real. I’m just impatient. ”
“Yeah, all good. George mentioned you’d probably be pissed.” Drew muttered, more to himself than his sister. And then was reminded of his friendliness on the ice. “Hey, how do you know George so well?”
“You know we all go to the same school, right? I don’t make it a habit of being buddies with your teammates, but George seems nice enough. He’s rather perceptive.” Mackenzie rolls her eyes at her older brother's protective routine. Perfected from the years he spent silently judging his teammates and vowing to keep their paws off his only sister.
The pair attended the strict Godric Academy, alongside most of Drew’s teammates and the other Guelph elite. Despite running in different social circles, more often than not the siblings wound up at the same parties and pre-games.
“I want you to stay away from Mclaggen. I don’t like the punk.” Andrew requested, unsettled by the way the kid was openly leering during practice.
“Cormac?!” Mackenzie made a face, her round nose scrunching in disgust. “Oh please, Drew, give me some credit.”
Laughing at his sister's reaction, slightly reassured, Andrew began the short trip to the parking lot, his hockey bag slung over his shoulder. Mackenzie trailing a mere half step behind him, eager to leave the arena and finally get home.
The lights on his beige Outback blinked twice as he unlocked the car and dropped his gear in the trunk, slamming it shut for good measure.
Drew, with one hand on the wheel and the other fiddling with the radio dial, was peppered with questions as he drove across town. Mack was eagerly asking for as many details about the up-coming competition as possible. By the time he flicked his turn signal and took the sharp left turn onto their street, the travel plans had been finalized.
Mackenzie would be driving up with a few girls from school in her brother's Outback. They’d leave the next morning and follow the team’s bus all the way to Hogsmeade, on which Drew would most likely be snoring for the majority of the five hour drive. The teams were given a Thursday check-in so they all had ample time to arrive and recuperate before Friday’s practice and Saturday’s opening game.
Their father would be flying to Hogsmeade on Saturday in time for puck drop. Despite working full time as a single parent, he had yet to miss a single one of Drew’s games.
Their parent’s had split when Andrew signed his contract and moved across the province. Their father, his doting supporter, was willing and able to pack up his life, transfer jobs and move alongside his son. Mackenzie went with them, as she couldn’t imagine not living in the same house as her brother and father. While the siblings departed, their mother remained out west, determined that they’d all come crawling back when he aged out of the Minors. Due to her consistent criticism of Andrew’s dreams, his father made sure to support him tenfold. Proud of his son for the commitment to his natural talent.
A gift , their father called it.
A fool’s errand, their mother had called it.
That had been three years and two trades ago, while currently Drew sat on a contract from the Moose Jaw Meteorites; signing him to four seasons with the professional hockey team beginning just days after his 20th birthday.
The pair of siblings made quick work of dinner, their father Miles, pulled himself away from his study just long enough to eat with his children and ask about their respective days at school.
Retiring to their rooms to finalize their packing before their week away, Mack reminded her older brother to set a second alarm for otherwise he was sure to sleep-in and miss the team’s departure time.
While it wasn’t Mackenzie’s first time attending the Mythic Cup, it was the first year she was not going with her father so she fully intended on making use of the few days of freedom before he arrived. Both the men in her life were inherently overprotective, so when her best friend Gia found out Miles wouldn’t be arriving until Saturday, she pounced at the opportunity to make, as she put it, stupid teenage memories with her best friend. Gia wound up booking a flight from Nova Scotia and begged Drew to use his last family & friends ticket on her, so they could sit together at the games. Needless to say, Mackenzie had no idea what she was in for, but she was rather excited.
Her phone, finally turned back on and charging, began buzzing from its place on the white desk of her vanity. Mack swiped across the screen to answer the incoming call.
“Girl,” Her best friend's face popped up, Gia’s dark pin straight hair was loose and hung just past her shoulders. “I hope you packed light because I’ve got big plans for us this weekend.” Her philosophy when it came to clothing was simple, if you’ve got it flaunt it. She was itching for Mackenzie to ditch her cargo’s for a mini skirt at least once this trip. Regardless of whether or not they were traveling five hours further north in the dead of winter.
“Fine. You can dictate two outfits and I will pack them with no argument.” Mack collapsed backwards onto her bed, her golden hair fanning out in a circle as an excited squeal erupted from the other end of the call. “But- you will, in return, bring some Rink Appropriate clothing. Because I know you, you’ll be complaining you’re cold ten minutes in.” Catching the wave of Gia’s pale hand in her attempt to brush off her worries, Mackenzie doubled down. “I mean it Georgia, bring warm clothes.”
“Yes, mom.” Gia rolled her honey coloured eyes, but stood up from the couch and marched into her room nonetheless. She flipped the camera, giving visual proof that she did in fact pull three knit sweaters from their hangers and toss them onto her duffle bag, which was currently unable to be zipped closed with all the things she was trying to pack. “So, I was watching Outlander yesterday-”
Mackenzie was used to her friend calling to chat about their favourite shows and usually she'd be more than attentive to the conversation but she hadn’t started packing yet and she knew her friend would be more distracting than helpful.
“Listen, Georgia, love you but I gotta go pack. We can talk all about it when I see you tomorrow, okay?” Mackenzie had barely gotten the words past her lips before there was three obnoxious knocks on her bedroom door.
“Mack, open up.” Andrew called from the hallway. “I knew it! What are you doing on the phone telling George Weasley you love him?! I thought you guys barely knew each other.”
Mackenzie glared at the purses and towel hung on the back of her door, as if her annoyance could burn a hole through it and reach her brother. Georgia’s laugh crackled through her phone speaker as Mack swung her oak door open, a hand on her hip and slight scowl on her face. She found it considerably funnier than Mackenzie did, chuckling until the phone was shoved in the boy’s face.
Realization dawned on him as Drew came face to face with the smiling brunette currently on FaceTime with his sister.
“Georg-I-A.” Mack enunciated, “As in, my best friend Gia. Not your lanky teammate. God, you’re paranoid.”
“My bad, Mack. Gia, a pleasure as always.” Drew apologized, shaking his head slightly embarrassed as Georgia continued laughing at his mix-up.
“See ya, DK.” Gia’s teasing voice the last thing he heard as the door slammed shut in his face. “As for you, Mack. You aren’t getting off that easy, let’s see you pack those outfits.”
The pair ended the call after deciding on two pairs of jeans that were so tight Mackenzie could barely sit down, a black pleated mini skirt and the promise of a dress from Gia’s closet.