Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 106346 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 532(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106346 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 532(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
“Did you eat good?” I ask Dylan, grabbing my own orange juice and drinking it while he nods and finishes his toast. Justin comes back over and sits down in front of us.
“You are going to be a bullet on the ice today,” Justin tells Dylan. “My father used to make me eat the biggest breakfast in the morning,” he says. “I used to hate it.” He shakes his head. “All I wanted was to get on the ice.”
“I like the ice the best,” Dylan says.
“One day, I didn’t eat breakfast, and I went on the ice. I couldn’t even skate,” Justin says, and Dylan just listens to his story.
“What happened?” Dylan asks, all worried.
“Well, I went to skate, and then I was going on a breakaway, but I just didn’t have the energy to skate it all the way to the goal line, and they stole the puck from me.”
“Was your dad mad?” he asks, worried for him. “Did he yell at you?”
“Nah, my dad never yells at me. My mom sometimes.” He smiles and looks at me. “Most times. Are you guys almost ready?” he asks, and Dylan nods.
“You need to go wash your hands and mouth before we leave,” I say, seeing the peanut butter across his cheek. Looking down at the syrup drops on the table, I bet he has some of that on him as well. I get out of the booth, and I’m about to go with him when Justin gets up.
“I don’t think you have the parts that belong in the men’s bathroom. I have it,” he says. I stand here with my mouth open as they walk away, and I sit back down, not sure what else to do. He’s been around me for a day, and my whole world feels like it’s shifted.
Sitting here, I wait for them to come back out, and when they do, Dylan is laughing at something Justin just said. “Ready?” I say, getting out of the booth. Justin looks over my head at the waitress, who nods at him, and he walks past me, grabbing a brown to-go bag.
“Is that your lunch?” Dylan asks him, and Justin just smiles at him. Opening the door, Justin gestures for me walk out before him. He opens the door for Dylan and makes sure he’s seated and buckled, and I get in, looking in the back.
Justin gets in and starts the vehicle, pulling off and making his way to the arena. “All the papers are in the glove compartment,” he starts saying to me, and I shake my head. “I have AAA in case something happens,” he says, pulling into the parking spot, “but I want you to call me and then call them.”
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” I say, and I have to be honest. I have no choice. My boss at the call center is amazing, but he can only do so much, and me missing work and leaving early is something he is already covering for me. Because of hockey camp, I’m arriving late this whole summer.
I get out of the car the same time as Justin and then Dylan, and Justin hands me the keys like it’s nothing. “Let’s go get the surprise,” Justin says, and Dylan skips beside him.
I walk beside them while Dylan asks questions, and Justin opens the door and waits for me to walk in. Dylan walks up to the lady who greeted us yesterday.
“Good morning, Dylan,” she says with a smile and then looks at me. “Good morning.” Then she must see Justin behind me. “Morning, Justin.”
“Hi, Malika,” I say, smiling and putting my hands on Dylan’s shoulders.
“We have a special surprise today,” Malika says, and Dylan jumps up and claps his hands.
“I’ll take them there,” Justin says, and she just smiles.
“Have a great day, guys,” she says while Dylan follows Justin around the staircase. When we get to the hallway, he turns and walks into the first room. Stopping at the door, I see tables against all four walls with equipment on it.
“Grab one of the bags,” Justin says to Dylan, gesturing to the stack of empty blue hockey bags in the corner. “Now let’s fill up the bag.”
“What?” Dylan asks, looking at him.
“You need a chest protector,” he says, going over to the table and grabbing one, and another man comes in the room.
“Hey, there he is,” a man says, coming up to Justin.
“Dan,” he says, holding out his hand. “So glad you could make this happen.”
“When Justin Stone calls, I come running,” he says, and I just watch him in action. “Who is this one?’
“Dylan Woods,” Justin says. “His mother, Caroline.”
“Dylan, let’s get you geared up,” the man says, grabbing Dylan and bringing him over to get him elbow pads. I have to wipe away a tear, and when Justin looks at me, I look down and try not to let him see. He’s never had new equipment before. He’s never had anything that was brand new and his own. Everything from his clothes to his shoes have always been secondhand.