(a/n: dedicated to isab3llaSanch3z for helping me with the spanish-english translations)

k a r r i s

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I was determined to do something for my mom.

Which was why I, once again, woke up an entire hour early before needed, in order to cater to the woman who pushed me out of her lady parts after 14 hours in labor. Despite being extremely groggy, and having the worse case of bedhead ever, I forced myself to slip out of the confines of my warm bed to splash cold water on my face. Well, more like dunk my head in a sink filled with frigid water.

The extremely chilly face bath aided in my endeavors to wake up, because when I finally made it down to the kitchen pantry to retrieve ingredients, I was wide awake. I channelled my father as I grasped different packages off the shelves, and retrieved specific spices off of the designated rack. Cooking was calming, I realized, as I flipped the pancakes and softly scrambled the organic eggs.

No wonder my dad loves this so much.

I made sure to brew my mother a fresh mug of her favorite dark-roasted coffee, and even took the liberty of slowly heating up the unsweetened soy milk on the stovetop to accompany her morning caffeine. I placed all my creations atop the table in pristine fashion— it was definitely Instagram worthy. I gazed at all my hard work, even doing a triple take at the powdered sugar beautifully dusted on the fluffy pancakes. My dad would certainly be proud, and for a moment, I contemplated texting my dad a photo of my carefully engineered creation.

"Something smells good, anak," mom strolled into the kitchen wearing one of her professional, yet pretty, dark grey dresses.

(translation: child, dear)

"It's your breakfast," I beamed, brandishing both my arms to showcase the spread of deliciousness on the table.

"You made me breakfast?" Mom smiled, her eyes drifting from the food to me. Her dark, glassy eyes radiated with gratitude and responded to it by pulling me into a tight hug.

"I love you mommy," I snaked my arms around my mom's waist and held onto her with all of me.

"Mahal na mahal na mahal kita," mom gushed. "Thank you for being a perfect daughter."

(translation: I love you a lot)

I cringed slightly at her statement— perfection was nowhere near my complex, and I was 5 foot short with a crap ton of secrets. And those secrets were what made me imperfect to say the least.

"You should eat before everything gets cold," I changed the subject, pulling away from my mom.

"As you wish," mom mused, grabbing a huge chuck of my cheek to pinch it.

I rubbed my face vigorously with a giggle as my mother pulled out the chair and sat down. She took the silver fork next to the plate and dug into her eggs and bacon first. I watched as she took a bite, nodding her head in approval. Dad would definitely be proud, and it was times like these, when I missed him the most.

"Are you going to eat too?" Mom asked, taking a sip of her coffee.

"I ate as I cooked," I told her with a chuckle. "I couldn't help it."

"You're just like your brother. Gabe was always stealing food as we cooked it," mom reminisced. She smiled as she thought about the memory— it was the first smile I've seen glide onto her face in a long time. "He'd eat so much during the cooking process that when dinner came around, he'd already be full."

I laughed, taking a seat across from my mom, "I remember that. I used to think that was his own way of getting out of family dinners to avoid awkward conversations."

"When did we ever have awkward conversations?" Mom laughed. "I only wanted to know how school was and if I needed to make sure you two knew about the consequences of unprotected sex."

I winced, "see! That's exactly what Gabe wanted to protect. You just can't give us 'the talk'," I air quoted. "While we're trying to eat Chicken Adobo."

The amount of times cringe-worthy topics would pop up during family dinners was endless. The subject would creep its way into everyday, normal conversation topics like school, friends, and our American Idol predictions. But then, out of nowhere, my mom would bring up romantic interests, exploring our sexualities, and of course, the dangers of having premature sex. Gabe and I used to cower in our seats, ears covered, all while singing tunes from Camp Rock at the top of our lungs. It was the epitome of awkward, but I'd have an awkward dinner every night for the rest of my life if it meant my parents were back together, and Gabe was still alive.

"Both your and Gabe's birthday is approaching," mom brought up, mid-bite.

"Yea, at the end of the week," I nodded, not really wanting to discuss the subject.

"It's the big one," she noted. "You're turning eighteen. I know you don't want a Debut, but is there anything you do want? A party at the house? Maybe a weekend in San Francisco or somewhere new, like Seattle?"

(translation: a Filipino coming-of-age party at 18 years, equivalent to a Sweet 16, Bar Mitzvah or Quinceanera)

"No need for any of that," I shook my head. "I don't mind just having dinner, or maybe a small picnic with Gabe?"

"Just that? Are you sure you don't want something more special?" Mom insisted.

"I'm sure," I promised, shooting her a toothy grin that resembled one of my favorite emojis.

The truth was that my eighteenth birthday was supposed to be special. Gabe and I planned it earlier in the year, and despite celebrating our birthdays separately since we were 13, we both wanted to do our big 'one-eight' together. Our idea was simple: throw an out of this world, epic party that integrated his Willowridge friends with mine at Brampcrest. But I didn't really feel like celebrating anymore— I couldn't do it without my twin.

"So I checked the schedule at the fitness center," I started, switching the subject. "There's hot yoga tonight at 5PM if you wanna go."

"Don't you have hockey practice?" Mom looked up from her breakfast.

"I don't need to go today," I told her. "I can just tell Coach Benson that I have to hang out with my mom."

"You don't have to spend time with me. I'm alright, anak," she assured, and I believed her. My mom was doing alright, but I also didn't want her to feel neglected.

"I know you're alright," I nodded. "But I miss hanging out with you. We can do hot yoga and then afterwards eat back all the calories at In and Out."

Mom laughed, agreeing with my greatest plan, yet. The hockey team would be okay without me. They had Coach Benson, and they had each other. The Willowridge boys would always be obnoxious, crazy dudes that often had me face-palming myself, but they were family nonetheless. They supported each other enough to uplift one another, and if I missed a practice or two, it would be okay.

Berkley picked me up that morning. We slipped back into the timeline of our friendship seamlessly and it felt like nothing ever happened. In an instant, we were back to screaming lyrics to our favorite songs, and making a pitstop at the Starbucks near school to indulge in a blended sugary drink.

"Your outfit looks impeccable, by the way," I gushed, darting my eyes around Berkley's body which was clad in the most amazing clothes to ever exist.

"Why, thank you!" Berkley gave me a coy smile as she posed in the parking lot of school. "I decided to throw on a skirt and my favorite highlighter to remind everyone that I am a boss-ass-bitch."

"That's my girl," I laughed, playfully giving Berkley a push against the shoulder. "And speaking of being a boss-ass-bitch, I know a dance scholarship might be out of the question but have you found any other ones you can apply for? The deadline for early admission is coming up."

"There is one that Natalia forwarded to me," Berkley had a hopeful grin on her face as the two of us started for the campus buildings. "It's from Cosmo Latina and it's a scholarship and an internship opportunity."

"Shut your face!" I gasped, slapping Berkley on the arm.

"Ow," she rubbed the affected area before returning the love and smacking my arm too.

"I'm sorry but oh my gosh! That's amazing! Please tell me you're applying," I gawked at my best friend with wide eyes and hope.

"I already did," Berkley informed with a grin. "But here's the thing, the scholarship is only for NYU."

My jaw dropped, "don't mess with me!"

"I'm not playing," she promised with a chuckle.

"This is so exciting! I'm sending you all the good juju,"

"Thanks bestie. But I don't wanna jinx it or get my hopes up because I'm pretty sure they're going to get hundreds of applicants," Berkley expressed.

"Okay, okay, I'll stop talking about it," I maneuvered my fingers across my shut mouth to replicate the idea of keeping my lips zipped. I stood in silence for 0.3 seconds before surrendering to my excitement, and screeched over my best friend's perfect opportunity.

"If I get in, you're so going to come visit me in New York," Berkley winked, joining me as we both grasped onto each other and hopped around in glee.

Our parade however, just had to be rained on, because there were terrible people who couldn't stand to see others so dang happy. Tegan, in all her radiance, stood before us with crossed arms. The heel on her boots gave her a height advantage, which aided in the mean girl's endeavor for superiority. That girl was a work of art, I had to admit-- made from only the most manacle. 

"Why so excited, girls?" Tegan's high-pitched tone rang in our ears, causing Berkley and I to cease our giddiness. "Did Berkley finally find a cure for her STDs? Or maybe you're celebrating because Berkley was named best webcam girl of the month?"

"Dammit Tegan! Does your life suck that bad that you need to bring everyone else down to your level of sucky-ness?" I spat, shooting Tegan a glare made of ice. She no longer scared me.

"Shut up you pint-sized twàt," Tegan sneered, taking a step towards me. As she towered above, I tried my very best to ensure my knees didn't quake, and my eyelids didn't quiver from intimidation. "You're such a snob for being a cheerleader to this whore," she pointed at Berkley, "whose vagina is probably a tunnel your echo could get lost in."

"Tegan what the actual fuck is wrong with you?" Berkley pushed me out of the way. "You're such a mean girl and I kind of feel sorry for you."

"Oh, shut up Berkley," Tegan groaned, rolling her eyes. "Why don't you go tend to your mom whose getting the shit beat out of her by your dad— father of the year, am I right?"

Tegan struck a nerve, and my best friend was not going to stand there and take it. Berkley had the innate fierceness back in her, and I was excited to watch the sass unfold— somebody get me some popcorn, please.

"You know what blondie?" Berkley began, an audacious sneer etched on her face. "I am fucking sick and tired of you being a pretentious piece of shit!"

"Excuse you!" Tegan gasped, her perfectly sculpted eyebrows furrowed with rage. "When did you develop the audacity to speak to me like that? You know, I almost felt bad kicking you off the dance team— maybe I made a mistake?"

Berkley let out an amused chuckle, crossing her arms above her chest and raising a brow. By this time, the two cutthroat females garnered an audience. Our classmates stopped in their tracks to be a spectator in what would go down in Willowridge history.

"But now it's clear to me," Tegan continued. "That you are a walking scandal who has single-handedly defamed the character of the Willowridge Titans. You're a slut, Berkley; an ugly, dirty slut!"

Our peers howled with shock and approval, pulling out their phones to document the argument.

"Eres una pera!" Berkley snarled. "Who jizzed in your non-fat, sugar free kale smoothie and turned you into the world's biggest buzzkill?"

(translation: you're a bitch)

"You know what? You can learn how to dance, learn how to find the square root of a number, but what you can't learn is class." Tegan, who prospered with malevolence, stepped closer to loom before my best friend. "You, Berkley, will always be an uncouth girl. Good luck in life."

"Oh, Dios mio! Es hora de golpearte con un poco de realidad! You, Tegan, will always be an unsatisfied, heinous girl who peaks in high school. When we're all grown up, making a name for ourselves, you'll be stuck," Berkley predicted, each word spewing out of her mouth with savage regard.

(translation: Oh my God! It's time to butt-fuck you with a little reality check!)

My jaw dropped and my eyes were glossed with extreme bewilderment. I couldn't help but to let an ear-to-ear grin form on my face because finally, Tegan was getting a taste of her own medicine. She was a bully who made Berkley's life hell and it was time for her to take responsibility.

The people who surrounded us were just as engaged with the sassy altercation on the campus parking lot. They watched with smiles etched on their faces, and I'm pretty sure Josie from Bio was live Tweeting the entire dispute. Tegan didn't once show any sign of fear; no slight tremble in her bones that indicated any type of uneasiness— until Berkley hit Tegan where it hurt the most, and dished the most truthful tirade to ever grace my ears. 

"You'll probably marry some bombastic, rich guy and get knocked up, looking for some kind of approval. But then, you'll be disappointed with your life once again," Berkley's voice was strong, and commanded our attention. "Your hideous heart will come back to bite you in the ass when you find your future husband fucking the neighbor, and your rotten spawn hating the shit out of you. But, that's just a guess. Good luck in life!"

Mic drop— go best friend, that's my best friend.

Berkley had a satisfied smirk plastered on her face while Tegan's fists were clenched at her sides. The poise drained from within the mean girl, leaving her more pissed than ever. Tegan shook with fury, and her eyes hounded Berkley as if she were innocent prey.

The crowd that circled us bursted into fits of hysterical laughter and hollers brimming with teenaged approval. The it-girl was put in her place, and all before homeroom even started— this was going to be a really good day.

"Oh my gosh, you're my hero," I praised, hugging Berkley from behind.

"And that's how you shut a bitch down," Berkley giggled. "Esa chica insolente y cruel finalmente consiguió lo que se merecia y ni siquiera me siento ni un poco mal."

(translation: That insolent, cruel girl finally got what she deserved and I'm not even a little sorry.)

"Hey Berkley," Tegan called out, obviously needing the last word. "We speak English here in America."

Silence.

The giggles and delighted cheers all came to a sudden halt as Tegan stood there with a satiated sneer. All eyes darted over to Berkley as we all awaited for a response. Tegan was ruthless, everyone knew it, but that short, bigoted statement was a low blow— even for her.

Berkley took a step forward, and I swore the entire vicinity felt the chill that radiated around her like an aura. She could spit out all the curse words in both the English and Spanish dictionaries, slap the pink blush off of Tegan, or dropkick her into a cesspool, and no one would blame her. As we all anticipated Berkley's response, watching as she let out a subtle chuckle, an unexpected quip captured our attention.

"Tegan, walk the fuck away,"

My head snapped in the direction of the angered voice, and my peers that encircled us, made room for the headstrong girl. Mollie Santos marched forward, her eyes zoned in on Tegan with ire prickling her normally kind demeanor. I held my breath, my eyes wide with intensity as they followed Mollie's movements.

"Mol? Wh-what, hey," Tegan's confidence faltered as she stammered through her words.

"Don't 'hey' me," Mollie air-quoted. "How could you be so mean? We speak English here in America? Really, Tegan? That is the most prejudice thing I have ever heard you say."

"I-I don't actually m-mean it," Tegan quickly explained, attempting to soften the blow of her radical words.

"If you didn't mean it, then why'd you say it? Tegan, I've known you for two years, and if there's one thing I learned about you, is that you say what's on your mind without a regard to consequence," Mollie's testimony spoke volumes because Tegan began to exude nervousness.

"What are you saying?" Tegan pipped up, her tone of voice morphing from self-assured, to docile. "You're not saying I'm racist, are you? Because you know I'm not. My own blood is a mixture of ethnicities— Italian, French, Chinese, Middle Eastern."

"That's what makes it worse," Mollie shook her head. "I've tolerated your propagandist sermons, and your xenophobic words for the last two years because I was scared of standing up to you— but I've had enough. I will not stand here and let you oppress me, Berkley, Karris, or anyone else who might be a little different than you. You need to check yourself, before you wreck yourself."

"Mol, I'm sorry. I really am; I didn't mean to offend you," Tegan tried to console her friend, but unfortunately for the mean girl, her previous words ran too deep.

"I'm done," Mollie raised her hands up, as if to surrender. She took three steps backwards, before turning her heel and walking away completely.

Tegan, who was always a fierce and confident girl, stood at the center of the parking lot with tears in her eyes. To put it simply: she royally messed up. I think Mollie, the gracious and friendly girl everyone loved, was the only true friend Tegan ever had. But now, she had no one to have her back. Willowridge High's queen bee was officially dethroned.

In ten minutes, the first bell would ring, prompting everyone to head over to homeroom. The rampage between Tegan and Berkley was officially over, and it was time to head into campus. Our peers sauntered away first, then shortly after, it was my best friend and I. As we both strolled towards the main building, I looked over my shoulder to glance at Tegan. The poor girl stood stationary, tears continuously streaming from her eyes as everyone else walked passed the former mean girl.

At my locker, I quickly grabbed the binder and notebooks needed for the first half of my classes. I seized my cellphone from the small pocket of my messenger bag and stuffed it into my jacket before placing the book bag into the metal compartment. As I did so, I noticed a dear friend stroll by. He laughed at something funny, before playfully pushing a friend aside.

"Hey Luke!" I called out, waving my hand. He gave me a head nod and said a few words to his friend. Moments later, he approached.

"Good morning Karris," he grinned. "I would ask how your morning is going so far, but according to Snapchat, yours is going pretty fucking awesome."

I slammed my locker shut with a chuckle, and stood up, "it's been eventful. But hey, I wanted to apologize to you."

"To me?" Luke cocked his head in curiosity.

"For the rudeness, and snide comments in defending Berkley," I recounted. "She told me everything."

"Ah," Luke nodded his head with a smile. "Now you know. I was only trying to help her gain the confidence of," he lowered his head and brought his voice down to a whisper, "coming out."

"I understand that now. So, I'm sorry for being an asshat," I reiterated.

"Come here kiddo," Luke pulled me into a wondrous hug, which I reciprocated with just as much warmth. When we separated, he hinted, "I do have something to tell you though."

"What's going on? Do you need a tutor again?" I guessed.

"No," Luke shook his head, a giggle escaping his mouth, before pursing his lips in wonder. "Well, maybe for English Lit. But that's not what I wanted to tell you."

"What is it?"

"I used to be Gabe's number one crony,"

"You? Really?" I was surprised with Luke's disclosure because he didn't seem like the type of person to be a pushover-- then again, he did dump BBQ sauce all over me once upon a time.

Luke nodded his head, his eyes glinting with embarrassment, "yea. I did anything and everything Gabe wanted me to do. Usually I didn't mind because I also saw him as a friend, and he always had my back. But as you know, he hated Calum."

"Oh yea," I groaned, ashamed that my own twin brother was a misfit bully.

"I used to torment Calum too," he admitted, guilt laced in his tone.

I let out a small gasp, "stop, you didn't!"

"Unfortunately, yea I did," Luke confirmed. "I ended up feeling terrible about it. Gabe had this plan to further humiliate Calum at lunch, but I put an end to it even though it backlashed on me."

"What do you mean?" I questioned.

"Gabe got really pissed off at me, and I mean really fucking pissed. I guess he thought that I was backstabbing him," Luke reasoned, shrugging his shoulders. "But like how Mollie defended Berkley today, I had to defend Calum. So I put Gabe in his place and in turn, Gabe put me in Calum's place."

"Oh my God, I'm sorry," I apologized, feeling sadness prickle my heart. Luke really was a sweetheart, and I hated the idea that he was the victim of my brother's torturous escapades.

"But it's all in the past," Luke moved the topic forward. "Calum and I are friends, now. And if Gabe were still here, I know he and I would be laughing about the whole thing."

"Thanks for trusting me enough to tell me all this," I pulled Luke into another hug, just as the first bell rang.

"Of course," Luke beamed, his dimples making an appearance. "Now, let's head over to homeroom before we're both late."

The rest of the school day went on without a hitch. The entire student population was talking about Tegan versus Berkley the whole day, sharing their own opinions about the argument. My best friend was once again, the talk of the school, but this time, she got nothing but praise. A lot of our peers were proud of her— proud that she stood up to the reigning queen bee. Mollie also received kudos from our classmates for being a hero to us minorities.

I didn't see Tegan the rest of the day, and I assumed she went home. Another person who I didn't see, but hoped to, was Ashton. When I texted him, I received no response. Then, my mind fluttered to his mom. I prayed that though she would leave this Earth soon, it wouldn't be for another several weeks. So I sent Ashton one last text that day, reminding him that I was here to talk, and went on with the rest of my day.

During my lunch break, I made a stop at Coach Benson's office. The boy's locker room was thankfully empty, and to my surprise, smelled like Peach Bellini body wash from Bath and Body Works. I found Coach sitting at his desk with his eyes glued to the computer screen. Standing next to him, was Michael, whose attention was also locked in on the device before him.

"Knock, knock," my voice was sing-song as I tapped the open door with my knuckles. As both men threw their heads back in laughter, they looked over at me with smiles.

"Karris, come in," Coach Benson's giggles faded, as I strolled into his office.

"Hey Karris! You gotta see this video of a llama failing to jump over a crate," Michael enthusiastically encouraged. "It's hilarious."

"Put the link on my Facebook wall," I advised with a smile. "But I just wanted to stop by and let you know that I have to skip hockey practice today."

"Is everything okay, Karris?" Coach asked. "Is it your health?"

I shook my head, "my health is fine but my mom's going through some rough stuff right now and I really need to be there for her. I hope you understand."

"Not a word more," Coach raised his hand, shooting me a genuine smile. "We understand. Take all the time you need, Coach."

"Do you need anything from us? Help cook dinner or vacuum your house?" Michael offered. He had this awesome quirk about him that I was always fond of— whoever marries him would be in for a lifetime of absolute cuteness.

"You're very kind," I rested a hand to my heart, moved by his altruism. "But I am good, for now. If I find myself needing an extra hand, you'll be the first I ask."

I was beyond blessed to have the hockey team as my second family. When I initially joined, it was because I wanted to prove a point. I wanted to testify against the notion that women couldn't play hockey. But I did more than just validate my point— I slapshot it out of the rink, and gained a dependable, loving family too.

The loyalty and affection of the Willowridge Hockey team boded well a few hours after school when my mother and I were on our way to hot yoga. I sat in the passenger side of the car, as mom drove to the fitness studio on Juniper Avenue. I texted the team, asking how practice was, but to no avail, there was a lack of response. I did however, receive a photograph of the team indulging in hot cocoa at the local cafe.

"Are you ready to sweat out all the terrible food I know you've been eating?" Mom asked, glancing at me with a smirk.

"What? I totally had oatmeal three mornings in a row," I defended myself, though mom wasn't entirely wrong.

"You smell like pizza," she noted.

"Fine, maybe I had few Hot Cheetos," I succumbed, sinking into my seat.

Mom parked her car in an empty stall, shutting off the engine. The music died down entirely, as did the warm air flowing from the vents. We both exited the vehicle, grabbing our water bottles and gym bags from the backseat. As we walked towards the small building in the plaza, I noticed several cars parked in the surrounding area. There rarely was a full class of students, but I assumed word spread of the benefits of hot yoga.

Then we walked in.

Standing in the lobby was the majority of the hockey team, clad in baggy shorts and loose tank tops. They all smiled brightly when my mom and I walked in, greeting us with excitement. I grinned, yet expressed puzzlement as I gawked at the boys before me.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"We're taking hot yoga with you and your mom," Luke announced.

"What? Why?" My eyes flung from Luke to each member of the team.

"Because you are the greatest thing to have happened to this team," Michael pronounced with pride.

"You helped us out," Calum pointed out. "Now it's time we help you out. We're family, right?"

I glowed from the inside out, "family."

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Okay, I am in love with Berkley and the final dethronement of Tegan Loelli. I had the best time writing the altercation & it's definitely one of my favorite moments in this story.

Thank you for voting, for commenting, and sharing your thoughts / this story to your friends.

We have about 8 chapters left in Slapshot, and it's crazy to think that this story is almost done!!