I should have known from first sight that something was up with the one new rookie.  There's tell tale signs that someone is hiding something, and, uh, "he" was showing them all.
     It was the first practice of the new season.  The veterans, like myself, were in one corner, planning pranks to play on the rookies and the new members of the team.  The rookies and guys that had played in Winnipeg last season (that's our Minor League team) were in their little groups, depending on who they could stand. The new players who had not played with the team before were in a group of their own, or his own, seeing as we only had one free agent signing the past off season that I had been aware of.  And, naturally, the goalies were by themselves.
     Coach had blown the whistle and called us all over to where he was standing when a voice called out,     "Hey, wait for me!"
     "You're late, Adams" Coach yelled.
     "I know," Adams said.  "I had trouble, uh, getting in."
     The guys laughed.  The door man has been known to not let rookies and new guys in, mostly on the captain's orders.
     "Don't let it happen again!" Coach said, glaring at the rookie and at our captain, Derian.  Coach is a tough guy, but he's fair.  He's a winner: every team he's coached has won a championship.  Except for our team.
     "Sorry," the rookie muttered.  His voice was very feminine.  I didn't think much of it.  My voice has a slight feminine tone to it as well, and I didn't want to point it out to the kid.  He was in for enough of a battle as it was.
     "I want each of you veterans to take one of the new or younger players under your wing.  Team chemistry is important to me, and I want to make this an important part of the Ice this year."
    He lectured some more, and sent the players off to pair off for paired drills.
     "Hey, Mo, come over here!" Coach said to me.
     I skated over to him.  "Yeah, Coach.  What's up?"
     "Mike, I want you to take care of Adams," he said.
     "Why?" I said, objecting.  I didn't want this kid as my partner: he was too feminine.  There were enough questions about my sexuality as it was because of my fragility and my facial structure.  I didn't need to be seen with someone who looked more feminine than I did.  His face was built in a very feminine way, right down to the curve of his lips and his long, full eyelashes.  In fact, if you didn't know better, you would have thought that he was a pretty female.
     "Adams is, uh, special.  Owner's kid and all."
     I rolled my eyes. *Great,* I thought, *now I'm going to be seen as a brown noser, too!*
     "And you're the most understanding veteran that I have.  Do you understand?"
     I nodded my head.
     "Adams!  Come over here!" he yelled.
     Adams, who was talking to one of the guys from Winnipeg, nodded his head and skated over.  "Yeah, Coach, whacha want?"
     "I want you to do drills with Michael here."  He pointed to me.  I nervously smiled.
     "What, can't I even choose my own partner?" he asked.
     "Your dad told me to take care of you, and make sure you didn't get harassed too much."
     "I'm a big kid, I can take care of myself," he said, crossing his arms over his chest.
     *Is it me, or do his chest pads...jut out a little bit?* I thought.  I shook my head and snapped back to reality.
     "Come on, Kid.  Let's go practice some passing," I said, grabbing his shoulder.
     When we found a nice patch of ice to practice on, the youth glared at me.  "I AM able to take care of myself," he said.
     "What's your name?" I asked, trying to start up a polite conversation.  "I imagine you know my name."
     "Yes, sir" Adams replied, batting a puck back and forth.
     "Please call me Mike.  You make me feel old when you call me sir."
     "Okay...Mike.  My name's Micole.  Most of the guys I've played with have called me Cole."
     "Micole's not a very common name, is it?" I asked, passing a puck to him.
     The kid shook his head in agreement.
     I stared at him, not able to keep my eyes off of "his" chest.  It looked like "he" had a nice rack...
     The puck hit me in the helmet.  "You should know by now to never pass or shoot when the other person's not looking," I said, staring evilly at Cole.
     "Well if you weren't so busy staring at my boobs, it wouldn't have hit you in the head," she mouthed, rolling her eyes in disgust.
     That was when everything clicked.  The feminine facial structure, the unusually long, dark eyelashes, the curvy lips, the voice, the, uh, lumps in her chest pads....
     "You're a fucking chick?" I said a little too loudly.
     The three groups of guys around us stared at Cole.  Or, at least the ones that weren't in Winnipeg last season.  She turned a rather pretty shade of red in embarrassment.  "Uh, hi?"
     Derian cracked up laughing.  "No wonder Olson wouldn't let you in...he probably thought you were some sort of puck fuck."
     "Nah," Richard, his defensive partner, (and his partner in this particular drill) said.  "the owner probably wouldn't let her change with the rest of us.  Wouldn't look good for a team in it's second year of existence to get nailed with a sexual harassment case."
     Cole chuckled in agreement, smiling slightly. *She has a really pretty smile too,* I thought.
     "She was on the Lynx last season, and said that she was going to try out," PJ, one of the younger guys who had played in Winnipeg last season, said, "but I didn't think her dad would let her.  She's a really good left wing, though."
     "Thanks for the sell pitch, Peej," Cole joked, giving a sarcastic thumbs up.
     "No prob, Coley," he replied, giving her a sarcastic thumbs up in return.
     She chuckled.
     "She's a really nice girl at times, too," PJ said, smiling flirtatiously at her.
     "That's enough, Peej...don't make me slam you into the boards over there."
     "Yes, Ma'am."
     Owen, one of the wingers, looked at PJ and laughed.  "Not even dating her and you're already pussy whipped."
     PJ's eyes narrowed, and his child-like face grew dark and angered.  "Shut the fuck up, Owen."
     "But, guys, seriously, please, you can't tell anyone..." Cole said.
     "Listen, we're all gonna find out anyway," Owen commented, skating up to her.  "so why deny it?"
     "Because I don't want to be looked at as just a girl, dipwad." she said.
     "It's not going to happen, and you know that," Owen continued, skating closer to her.
     "Stop it, Owen," she said, skating up to the boards, her back towards them.  "Don't make me punch you."
     "Especially with a set of boobs like that." He shook off his gloves and went as if he was going to slide his hands across her chest.  Suddenly, a flurry of fists hit his face, mine included.
     "God, you ARE a perv!" Cole said, blowing across her right knuckles in the same manor a gunfighter would blow smoke off his gun.
     "Oops, did I forget to mention that she has a extremely good right jab?" PJ added with an evil chuckle.
     "What the fuck?" Owen asked, putting his hand against his left eyebrow and pulling it away.  "I'm     bleeding, you bitch!"
     "Don't touch me again," she said.
     "The fuck I won't, Slut." he said sarcastically.
     "Don't." I said, stepping in front of her.
     "Oh, like you could hold your own in a fight against me, Wussy Boy."
     "You're not going to only have to deal with Mike."  Derian stared Owen down with his bright blue eyes.      "You'll have to deal with Richard and me."
     Richard nodded his head in agreement.
     Owen rolled his eyes in anger and skated away.  "She WILL be mine by the end of the year!"
     Cole brushed some of her collar length, reddish brown hair back under her helmet.  "You guys didn't have to do that.  I wasn't kicked out of seven games last year for nothing." She smiled, rubbing her right hand proudly.
     "You alright?" Richard asked.
     Cole sighed, staring into his eyes.  "Yeah, I guess."
     "You're going to have to put up with that all season, you know," Richard replied, putting his hand on her shoulder.
     "From the league, or just Owen?"
     The group of us laughed.
     "Well, I know for SURE now that she has a sense of humor," Derian said with a chuckle.
     "If he makes another move on you, let me know," Richard said.
     "Okay," she said, stars obvious in her dark green eyes.
     "You think?" Derian asked me.
     "Matty CAN be a charmer when he wants to be," I replied.
     "Nah," Joè, the new guy, said, skating behind me.  "She's a smart girl.  She wouldn't do anything to jeopardize her career."
     "But she is a normal 21 year old girl," PJ added.
     "She won't develop a crush on him," the four of us said at the same time.

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Teeny Weeny Disclaimer: This piece of FICTION is owned by me, Lissa.  Please don't steal it and claim it as your work (like you would), or post it anywhere without my permission, or else I will send a fictious, angry version of Bryan Marchment out after your knee.  Thank you.