The Junior Goodwill Games *Gunnar Stahl*

Chapter Five

"Ashley, open the door!" Connie's familiar soft voice sounded through the door. She sounded tired and by the time on the clock on the nightstand next to me, I could understand why.

"What? I thought we had warm-ups at 11:00am?" my voice was scratchy as I pushed myself up from my laying position. My elbows both cracked in unison, I definitely needed some kind of warm up because my body was not meant to be moving yet. I rubbed my eyes and stood slowly, walking toward the door and opening it for Connie to come in.

"You -" she started when I interrupted her.

"Don't finish," I shook my head, a smile spread across her face.

"I was gonna say that you probably missed the wake up call from Coach," she chuckled as she smoothed her Team USA windbreaker, "You look fine."

"Girl, didn't I say don't finish?" I joked in a sarcastic tone as I closed the door behind her.

"Even Guy can't get me to listen, relax," her tone was just as sarcastic as mine.

"So why is Coach waking us up so early?"

"We have a press conference in a half hour, I guess he was a little distracted after our win last night," she shrugged with a sly smile, taking a seat on my bed as I went to my duffel. I pulled out my matching windbreaker, my Team USA t-shirt, and a pair of jeans that still smelled of the store I purchased them from.

I walked toward my closet seeing Connie turn to look in the opposite direction, this wasn't our first rodeo together. After years of all the teams shenanigans, she and I bonded on being the only girls who stuck around.

"Where's Julie?" I wondered, throwing my clothes into my large suitcase.

"She went to go make sure all the guys were awake. Brave woman that one."

"She underestimates them," I replied, recalling the many occasions they pulled pranks on the innocent. I pulled on my jacket and walked out of the closet, she didn't move.

"Can I turn around now or...?"

"Yes, Connie," I assured, as she turned her braid whipped across her shoulder and rested comfortably.

"Ready?" she asked to which I nodded with a slight roll of the eyes, it was still too early. I was nervous and excited for the media attention, but there was also a fair amount of anxiety working its way in. 

We all met in the lobby and were escorted to the coliseum by Coach, Tibbles, and Ms. Mackay. Knowing that we were about to receive all this attention had everyone fired up, even Coach Bombay. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, Team U.S.A. hockey and the man chosen to lead them to the gold, Gordon Bombay," Tibbles introduced us and called on the first reporter to raise her hand, she was a beautiful blonde with bright green eyes.

"Team U.S.A., how does it feel competing on the international level here in Los Angeles?" she asked with a recorder in hand.

"Feels good, we love it," Charlie said into one of the many microphones in front of us, his voice quivered with excitement. 

"Coach Bombay, the Vikings from Iceland are the heavy favorite. Their coach has already guaranteed victory. How are you gonna handle them?" the second reporter questioned, my mood soured at both the topic and her wording.

I noticed a group of guys wearing the same black Iceland jackets making their way toward the press conference, at the very front was a man with dark slicked back hair. His cynical smirk made me nauseous, but it was so familiar. The man who I suspected was the coach moved forward to reveal the one face I couldn't get out of my head, his eyes met mine from across the area and suddenly I was blind to everything else.

"Um, hard work. I think our team is ready to go up against the best in the world, we're not worried about them," he started off shaky and unsure, but ended with confidence, "Iceland may be tough but we're Team USA and we're going all the way."

They did look tough, every last one of them of them held the same cold expression. All tall and muscular, all looked far older than teenagers. Gunnar stood out from the rest, he was the only one who didn't look angry. I broke contact but still couldn't catch a breath, he was here. He was actually here. I didn't know whether to feel relieved or upset.

"Team USA's going down, that's where you're going," as the words left his mouth, his face clicked into place in my head. Stansson, a former NHL player.

"That's Stansson, the coach of the Iceland team. He's wound pretty tight," Tibbles whispered to Coach, his eyes went wide.

"Stansson from the NHL? Wolf "The Dentist" Stansson is coaching? You didn't tell me that," Bombay grunted in return, clearly intimidated by Stansson.

"That guy's a dentist?" Ken asked, misunderstanding the small encounter. Security rushed up to Stansson, likely shooing him away to refrain from any confrontation.

"That was his nickname, he played one year in the NHL," I answered, looking over to meet Gunnar's eyes once more. His body language was off, looking almost detached from what was going on.

"He collected more teeth than goals, even punched out his own coach," Charlie continued.

"I heard they ran him out of the league and the country," Gaffney added.

"What happened to freedom of speech, huh? Isn't this America?" Stansson complained, arguing with security. 

"That's his team? They're huge!" Ken exclaimed looking the Vikings up and down.

"Ken, everyone's huge to you," Fulton joked, earning a laugh from each of us.

"They are," I murmured, Gunnar was being pulled away by Stansson from his jacket. My eyebrows furrowed at the unnecessary force he was using, Gunnar took one last glance at me and followed his team. It left a bitter taste in my mouth.

The following day, we were leading Italy six to nothing, I was skating out on the ice around Goldberg, he had just saved a shot from Italy and was now smart talking one of the players who came close to fighting him until I came in and broke it up.

I skated to the center of the rink when the puck came straight to me from Fulton. Dean checked a player who was skating my way and I went straight for the goal, scoring for the first time here in LA. The end score of the game was eleven to zero, furthering our way to the gold.

After a long shower and a walk back to my dorm room, I was ready to sleep. As fun as the competition was, it took an emotional turn and I wasn't sure how to feel about it without having closure.

I threw my hockey duffel on the ground and took a seat on the bed in my room, a deep breath escaped my lips as I held my head in my hands. A knock on my door shook me from my trance, anxiety suddenly formed a lump in my throat. 

I stood from my place and walked toward the door, opening it and immediately feeling my stomach drop. His expression was soft.

"Can we talk?"