Galen

It's going to take me a while to get used to this place and its people.

I always do things by myself in my own way; I don't hang around in crowds. Dex mostly does his own thing too, and his thing usually involves hanging out with Hunter and the rest of the clan.

I never used to hang out with all of them together because I prefer people in smaller portions - even when I like them – and for many years, Hunter and I couldn't be in each other's company for more than five minutes before it turned into an ugly brawl.

Besides, Paisley and her boyfriend, Asher, are in that group and having me there would just cause trouble because I never quite got over her after our very brief romantic thing when I was 14 and she was 13. It was dead before it even had a chance to bloom, ending badly due to a stupid misunderstanding that got my brother's nose broken.

I couldn't be around them after that.

At first, it was just me and Tanner, hanging out, talking, drinking, and getting high. Enemies turned best friends. Later we had Candice Swift with us most of the time. That was enough for me. When I wasn't with either or both of them, I would meet up with Kyle and Ronan - Candy's brother - but never all of them at the same time.

The last few months I spent in Briar Cove, I started to join the clan on their outings and it was surprisingly good. I even started to get along with Hunter really well. Dex always said he thought we could be great friends if we weren't both spanners.

I won't admit it out loud - and neither will Hunter - but lately, we started to have fun together, acting the maggot whenever we were in the same space. We've mended our fences and sorted all our misunderstandings from the past. It meant a lot to Dex, and I'm glad I was finally able to do something for my brother.

Still, it was overwhelming. I prefer groups of three or fewer. My head becomes noisy, and my nerves act up when there are too many people around me. It's exhausting.

The house I'm going to be living in for the foreseeable future has eight other people living in it. Oh, wait! Nine. Jax said there's a kid living there too. He is in the academy's junior program and away visiting his family for the Snowglen school holidays, which ends soon. I haven't met him yet.

Ten people in one house, and there aren't many places a person could be alone in there unless you sit on the toilet all day. Still, they all seem nice enough... 

Bleedin' hell, no! They don't seem nice at all! They're as nuts as a box of frogs, one more mental than the next.

I like them.

Jeroen has this civilized boy vibe going, and then he says the weirdest shite in the most startlingly crass ways that don't gel with that image at all. I think he is translating directly from Dutch at times, and it doesn't mean what he's actually trying to say. The words are obviously not as bizarre in his native language.

Last night, at the dinner table, someone said something about the old woman next door's chickens always being in the road, and they hoped she got them somewhere safe and warm soon enough to miss the storm. They were going to help her but got sidetracked with clearing the roads of ice and salting it.

"I'm used to chickens being f#cked up in cages. That's what I would do," Jeroen said. We all stared at him, and I, for one, was very confused about his strange fetish and pretty sure I didn't want to hear more about it. He saw the looks on our faces and realised that he was going to have to find other words to explain what he meant.

It took a while with some descriptions and explanations, but it turned out that he merely meant that he was used to them being bred and kept in caged-off areas, not left to roam the streets.

I feel better about Jeroen now.

I don't feel better about the Hunter with the hot body and pretty eyes, though... and I definitely don't mean the boy one. I think my problems with the girl Hunter is going to be way worse than my troubles with Hunter Drake had ever been. We just used to knock each other on our arses every chance we got before we called a truce after accidentally hurting Dex.

I used to want Hunter to beat me up. In a sick way, it helped me to feel better. It's good we stopped, though. I could tell that it was taking a toll on Dex. My brother loves me, but he was not going to give up his friendship with Hunter, not even for me. Not that I ever wanted him to, though he has a closeness with Hunter that used to make me jealous. It doesn't anymore. I've got that same closeness with Tanner.

Dex and I are two very different people; we need our own best friends. Fortunately, Dex loves Tan as much as I do and always has, even back when I didn't. He often hangs out with us when he's not with Hunter.

Girl-Hunter makes me uneasy. Her mischievousness is twisting my mind into a pretzel.

I'm trying to stay out of trouble here. I want to make this hockey thing work. Few people get a shot at their biggest dream in life. I want this future; I don't want to mess it up because there's a cailin living in the house with me who looks at me as if she sees me, and it confuses me. She doesn't know me. She clearly thinks I'm worth her time.

I'm not!

The sooner she realises it, the better. Still, she's nice to everyone; it's possible that the way she looks at me doesn't mean anything. Jax confirmed that she spent most of the night with him and Denny when they just arrived and couldn't sleep. She didn't read to them; they played games and talked.

She's kind; I can see that in everything she does. She dotes on her dad and Tucker, and she has clearly accepted the others as brothers.... except maybe Denny. I'm not sure what she sees him as. That is all grand! She needs to see me as a bleedin' brother too.

There's no way I'm seeing her as a sister, though. During lunch, I tried to see her as Emmy, six years old and adorable, missing a couple of front teeth, but it was fecking impossible.

Emmy never winks at me while talking about sausage fests. Hunter is cheeky and clearly not shy at all. I still don't know if she's flirting on purpose or if that is just part of her personality, and I'm reading too much into it. Whatever it is, it makes my heart beat way too fast.

Shite! I should read an actual book instead! There are plenty in that house, and I brought two Terry Pratchett novels with me. Going Postal and Guards! Guards! My favourites. I should read them and not try to read the girl.

I cannot remember even one time in my life when a girl read me to sleep. The memory makes me chuckle. I enjoyed listening to her read, making cute voices for the characters the way Dex always does. I miss my brother, but he sure as hell doesn't make me feel the way Hunter did while reading to me.

Warm all over. Safe. I've never felt that safe before.

I should feel safe all the time. I've got pretty big muscles, and I don't suck at MMA, and what my strength and technique lack, I make up for with my temper. I'm not a scrawny, insecure 13-year-old boy - a sitting duck for predators - anymore. I can take care of myself now, but I still never feel safe.

Until last night, lying on that bean bag, with the fire warming the room and Hunter near me reading out loud. The memory makes me smile, which spells nothing but trouble!

I don't feel safe anymore!

I'm standing all geared up on the ice of the hockey rink in the arena after a seriously weird, fun walk-wrestling match through mid-calf-high snow. Last night, I didn't see snow when I was at the station, but I was hiding in the corner of a semi-shelter, not admiring the landscape. It was dark when I arrived in town, and there wasn't any snow there either, as far as I could see. The beauty of the world coated in a thick layer of white took my breath away when we left the house.

Now, my breath is taken away by the weirdos from my new home standing across from me, grinning eagerly. They're also dressed and ready for a serious battle - Jax even swapped his glasses for his contact lenses - and they're all armed with hockey sticks. Six against one doesn't seem fair.

They're going to kill me!

Hank and Hunter are the only ones not facing off against me. They are sitting on the bleachers, ready to witness the bloodbath.

"What exactly is it ye wanted me to show ye, Tucker?" I ask, feeling apprehensive. "Me entrails scattered over the ice."

Tucker stares at me, unblinking. He surprised me by gearing up, too, and he is standing on skates, resting his weight on the strange contraption strapped around his leg. It is clearly meant to strengthen his knee and keep him balanced on the skate. There are rubber stoppers on stakes at the brace's bottom edge, strategically placed at angles to the blade of his skate. I think the rubber might be more for protection because the spikes seem to bite into the ice, a lot like toe picks on figure skates.

If Tucker flexes his foot, he can make one or more of these stoppers hit the ice, stopping him from losing his balance and I've seen him use them to change direction very fast. I've never seen a thing like that before.

He is surprisingly dexterous with it strapped to his leg. A lot of thought had obviously gone into the skating aid, and he uses it with practised ease. I can only imagine how formidable he was on the ice when he didn't need extra help.

He is pretty intimidating as is.

"I don't want to see your entrails, Galen," he says after a minute as if he had to think about it. I'm glad he decided against it. "I want to see your form."

I'm not sure if he's being witty or really took what I said literally. It is hard to figure him out. He seems quite serious at the moment.

"Am I supposed to play against all of ye?" I ask, just to be sure. I'll give it a lash if that's what they want to do. I might die, but it will be fun.

"I'm going to set you some tasks, Galen," Tucker says. He has a way of using people's names when he speaks to them, as if he wants to make sure that they know to whom he is directing his words. Perhaps it's his way of staying on track. It's endearing.

"Okay," I say, flashing a look at the grinning bastards all facing me, "and they will be trying to kill me while I do those tasks?"

"No, Galen," Tucker says, still giving me an alarmingly solemn look. "They are going to help with the tests."

Tests? He's testing me? Why? To see if I'll survive the training?

"Bring it on," I shrug, not feeling half as self-assured as I'm pretending, but there's no way I'm letting these arseholes get me down. I'll beat them all to a pulp if I have to. I'm startled when Tucker finally smiles brightly, clearly liking my answer.

"I want you to saucer pass the puck to me, Galen," he tells me, and now I'm confused. Yeah, he has a hockey stick in his hands, and he can skate, but I'm not so sure that handling the stick properly would be possible without that thing on his leg getting in the way.

He must have seen and misinterpreted the confusion on my face because he hurries to clarify his meaning. "A saucer pass is when you pass the biscuit by making it fly in the air like a flying saucer over obstacles, like other players' sticks and feet, Galen. It must still land flat on the ice so the player you're passing it to can control it."

"Aye," I say, not sure how to ask my actual question. I know what a saucer pass is. "Ye want me to pass it to ye, and they must get in the way and try to intercept it?"

"Yes, Galen."

"Don't worry," Denny chuckles helpfully; he clearly gets what my uncertainty is all about. "Tuck can handle it."

"Yes, I can handle it, Galen," Tucker assures me, and I'm not going to argue with the guy, especially since he is demonstrating his ability by working the blade of his stick over the ice with impressive speed and precision for a guy needing a device to help him stay upright on his skates.

"To be sure, to be sure," I grin, getting into position while guiding the puck I was given along the ice. When I see Naresh coming towards me to try and intercept it, I tilt my blade and tap the biscuit in a slightly scooping way that lets it sail over his stick's blade and past Denny's legs. It lands where I meant it to, ready for Tucker to send back to me, which he does at lightning speed.

Fine, so no taking it easy on him!

I pass it to him again and this time, I have to dodge Jeroen coming at me. When the puck is in my control again, even faster than previously, I have to fake to get past Kame. I guide the puck to my left and then rapidly shoot it to the right, from where I scoop it in another saucer pass to Tucker.

I'm having a blast, and the guys are enjoying themselves messing with me. They are becoming more and more assertive in the way they crowd me. When the puck gets intercepted, I'm surprised to see Tucker skillfully steal it back.

The guy is making my mouth hang open in awe. He must've trained himself day and night to be able to move around with that skating brace and a hockey stick. He might not be good enough to play in real matches, but he is holding his own really well against the guys, and they are not cutting him any slack, as far as I can tell.

The test is becoming increasingly tough, and I land on my ass a few times when I get checked by one of the guys. I can tell that they are holding back a wee bit because Hank told them that he's not buying chocolate for a month if anybody gets hurt. I might survive after all because these guys are clearly big on chocolates.

Hunter told them that if they injured me specifically, she was personally going to make their lives a living hell. That was just grand because it caused a lot of embarrassing heckling from the eejits, which was clearly her goal. The badgering ended when Denny told her that he had been begging her to make his life hell from the day he met her, and he was so happy to hear that all he had to do to get her to make him suffer was to check me into the boards really hard. He would happily do that for her.

Things derailed fast from there, and I'm surprised that Denny survived the physical reminders he received from the others not to come on to Hunter. She stepped in and saved him by telling the guys that she wanted chocolates and at the rate they were roughhousing the bastard, she was going to have to resort to stealing chocolates from the vending machines at the arena AGAIN.

That again made her dad give her a look, which made her chuckle happily.

Here we are now, trying to kill each other on ice, and I'm pretty sure the guys aren't supposed to be fighting each other since I'm supposedly the only one on my side. I'm still not sure whose side Tucker is on, but he passes the puck to me every time he gets it. Getting the puck passed to me could literally get me killed right now.

At this rate, there will be no chocolate in the house for many months. Still, it's pure class craic, even when I lose my bucket in a scuffle and my glove comes back bloody when I swipe at my nose.

Satisfied that I apparently know how to deke (draw others out of their position or skate past them with the puck) and fake and do saucer passes, Tucker splits us into two groups for a friendly game. Kame, Denny and me against Naresh, Jax and Jeroen. I can soon tell that these guys have all been training at the Farm for a while. They're tough, fast and accurate. They're way out of my league.

I see my arse without a mirror more times than any sane lad would want to, but it's helping me learn. When I magically manage to score a goal off Naresh - the strongest player here - after a fierce battle, I do Jax's happy dance, and he joins in because, apparently, seeing anybody score a goal against Naresh trying to defend it makes him happy. It doesn't seem to bother him that he is in Naresh's team.

By the time we leave the ice, I'm feeling mellow and happy in a way I've never felt before, even after several beers and smoking weed. This is a good kind of high, and I cannot wait to tell Tan and Dex all about it.

I'm sweating like a pig, and I think I have a black eye despite wearing a helmet, but I still have all my chicklets, even if my lip stings. I haven't broken any bones.

"That was quare savage!" I tell the guys when we reach the bleachers, where we take off some of our protective gear. "Best craic I've had in ages!"

"You took drugs, McKenna-san?" Kame asks, looking concerned, and I get how he could be confused since craic is pronounced the same as crack.

"That might explain it," Naresh says, and he is also looking worried, peering suspiciously at my face. I know that the Farm has strict rules against any form of narcotics. If I'd actually used cocaine, I would be out on my ear tomorrow after the mandatory weekly drug test. When I was still spiralling into hell, I didn't do hard drugs like cocaine, and I haven't used any weed for months now.

"Craic means having a laugh and a bit of fun, that kind of thing. Not drugs," I explain, and their faces clear up with relief.

"It was crack," Kame agrees happily. "Very, very good crack!"

"You're right," Jax laughs, flinging an arm around my shoulders. "You are some kind of quarry savage! Your lip is bleeding, moron. Stop grinning. You look like you've just slaughtered a bunny and eaten it alive."

"Dude, if I slaughtered it, I couldn't eat it alive," I tell him, laughing too. The guy is such a muppet!

"I'm sure you would be able to find a way," he assures me. "Quarry savages can do weird shit like that."

I really hope that is not going to become my nickname... Well, it does have a certain scary ring to it, so...

There's a weird look in Hank's eyes when he meets us at the bottom of the bleachers and helps me take off my helmet. He probably saw the blood and got scared that one of his boys got injured before even starting their training. It would not go over well with the officials at the academy.

"I'm fine," I assure him, and I cannot stop myself from grinning, though I know it's a bloody smile that makes me look like... well... a quarry savage, apparently.

"Yes," Hank tells me. "You really are."

I hear Hunter giggle near me, and turning my head, I find her looking up at me with eyes glittering as if they're filled with diamonds. She steps closer, rising on her toes to press a tissue to my busted lip, and when I lean over and take it, she unceremoniously stuffs a plug of rolled-up tissue into one of my nostrils.

"Cheers."

"That red stuff needs to stay inside your body," she tells me. "It's gross when it's outside it... and well... not very healthy. Here, put some of this on your lip; it will stop the bleeding fast," she instructs, handing me a sugar packet. I just blink at her, wondering if she's coddin' me again. She and Denny got me good with the shortcut bullshit earlier.

Thinking about it still cracks me up.

"I'm not messing with you," she laughs, her bright eyes setting my brain on fire when I look into them. "I promise."

"Cheers," I say again, tearing the packet open and pouring some of the sugar on the cut, which is more severe on the inside of my lip.

"Hey! Rink Chick! I'm bleeding too!" Denny yells at her, pointing at a small scrape above his eye.

Jax told me last night that Hunter insists on being called a rink chick and not a rink rat because, according to her, chicks are cuter than rats. I thought he was joking, but hearing Denny call her that, she jumped onto the bottom step of the bleachers and walked over to him. She's the perfect height now to reach his tiny injury, which she gently dabs at, using a fresh tissue. It looks like she brought a supply of them along to mop up our blood.

"It's not Rink Chick anymore, Denny," she tells him, looking extremely serious. "Jax gave me a new title last night. I'm now a Twirly Girl."

"Damn straight, you are," Jax laughs. When Hunter turns her head to smile at him, Dennis sees it as the end of his medical treatment and tosses her over his shoulder, walking away with her, yelling at him to put her down because she is not going into the locker room with a rink rat quarry bastard savage.

I'm not surprised when another near-death-inducing tussle breaks out to save the lass from the plonker.

"I'm not sure, Hank," I say, watching Hunter run back to us while my housemates try to kill their friend... again. "But I don't think I'm the biggest quarry savage here. Naw, not at all, at all."

~~~