Suddenly, Nova’s Your Majesty and Jaysen’s Your Grace make a lot more sense.
My eye roll and sigh combination is a work of art perfected by years of practice.
“Wait till you read it,” Delilah says.
I grumble as I flip through until I find my face again, surrounded by my sisters on the couch at Mom and Dad’s house in Raleigh. My face is as blank as always, but my sisters stare at the camera like they’re trying to break it.
At the time of that photo shoot, I’d been bitter about a lot of things. My parents have lived in Raleigh since I was ten years old, but that was only the third time I’d ever been there. I got to see my sisters for a day, and it was all about hockey.
Mickey James set NHL records, the article says. Mickey James II broke them. Mickey James III was bred to shatter them entirely. His five older sisters are a testament to their parents’ desperation to have a son to continue the James family’s hockey dynasty.
I blink. Read that last line again. Then a third time before I push the magazine away from me. “Fucking seriously?”
Delilah nods. “That’s the only mention of any of us. I mean, they do say Bailey and me are at Hartland, too. But they don’t talk about Mikayla’s SID job, or Nicolette’s medals, or Bailey’s lacrosse championship, or Madison’s coaching.”
“Or your Patty Kazmaier?” Delilah was literally named NCAA women’s hockey’s MVP last season. This is The Hockey News. They should probably mention something like that.
Delilah shakes her head. “Nothing we do matters. We only exist because Mom and Dad were desperate for a child with a Y chromosome.”
Jade tsks from her other side, stirring her own iced coffee with a metal straw. “That is an inaccurate indicator of gender and you know it.”
“Speaking from their perspective,” Delilah amends. The two of them start talking about a gender studies class they’re in together, and I drag the magazine back to me to give it a rage read while waiting for the professor to show up.
I skim through comparisons of Dad and me, how we were both too young for the draft coming out of high school, spending a year at Hartland in the meantime. Of course it has to bring up my height, because the hockey media is so obsessed with how tiny and adorable they think I am. The writer seems confident that my name and skill will be enough to secure the top pick in June despite my size. The third Mickey James to be taken first overall.
I only start really absorbing the words when I stumble on Jaysen’s name.
They seriously interviewed him for this?
Kill me now.
I’m not letting him take that spot without a fight. Teammate or not, I’m coming for him.
“This dickhead,” I mutter.
“What, you scared?” Delilah says. She raises her hands in mock surrender when I glare at her. “He’s sitting right there. Want me to get in his head? Throw him off his game?”
“No.” I want to earn that first overall spot. I need Jaysen at his best when I beat him. Prove I didn’t get here on my name alone. Prove that I’m just better than him.
“I don’t get how he’s even up for the draft?” Jade says. She takes a small sip of coffee and goes back to stirring. “He plans on graduating, right? How can someone be drafted if they won’t be available for four years?”
Delilah sits up straighter, ready to dispense some hockey knowledge. “Whatever team drafts him will hold on to his rights until the August after he graduates. He gets his degree, his draft team gets some free development, everyone wins.”
Jade looks unconvinced, but my phone vibrates, distracting me from the rest of their conversation. The official NHL Twitter just tagged me in a post with a picture attached. The preview shows a row of gray tables and half a person slouched over a notebook. My stomach bottoms out before I even click on it, expanding the picture to reveal this very classroom. I glance up, but the room is filled in enough now that I can’t pinpoint exactly who took it. All I see are the backs of heads bent over cell phones and a math textbook I didn’t bother to buy.
I take a better look at the picture. It shows Jaysen looking down at his phone and me in the back of the room turning a page in the magazine with a scowl on my face, Delilah and Jade smiling at each other as they talk.
Jesus. Social media is scary.
The original poster only tagged the NHL account, but whoever runs it added the comment who will get the better grade? with a thinking face emoji, and tagged both me and Jaysen.
It’s impossible to miss Delilah with that hair. They just don’t care about her. So I retweet it and say obviously @LilahJames23.