My Little Story

Synne was sad again. She sat in her chair and stared at the picture tacked
on her message board. She gazed into his two-dimensional eyes and wondered 
what he was thinking when the picture was taken…whether he had been elated 
to have gotten a professional job at his age, as his half-smile, half-smirk 
suggested, or was just putting on a decent face for the camera. He had dark
hair in the photo. Synne remembered singling out the attractive dark-haired 
man skating around the edge of the rink towards the area where she stood. 
‘Hmm…he’s a nice one,’ she had thought, ‘number 66…have to make a note of him…’.
She watched him with laser-like intensity as he worked the puck towards the 
net and a fraction of a second before running into the posts, slammed the 
puck directly at the plexiglass before her. She instinctively drew back a 
few centimeters and then resumed her previous pose. ‘You better watch out, 
boy. If it weren’t for that plexiglass…’ she thought at him. She smiled at
her own faux-attitude and re-trained her sights on number 66. Play on, player…
     
"No, Delyn. I want him…you can have Mark. I want HIM. Forget Mark!", said 
Synne mock-peevishly. "Hey, you mean you don’t want Mark anymore—are you 
sure???", asked Delyn incredulously. "I’m absolutely sure," laughed Synne,
"shake??" She stuck out her hand. Her friend took it warily, as if it might
turn out to be some horrid mutation that would bite her given half the chance. 
They shook hands, then they burst out laughing. Once they had settled down, 
Synne picked up the program and studied the roster. "Hmm…number 66………his 
name is Ken Steward and he plays left wing…I know who I’ll be cheering for 
tonight…"
	
"Have we found one of the players to our liking??? Hmm???" teased Ms. Minors. 
"Yes we have," Synne replied lightly, "the lucky—-or perhaps not-so-lucky—-man
is Mr. Ken Steward." "Oh. I know him. Age-wise, at least, you couldn’t have 
picked a better guy," said Ms. Minors, "he’s the youngest player on the team 
at 20." "That’s still almost 7 years," Synne frowned. "Seven years is nothing."
	
"Was he blonde before???" inquired Synne of her friend. "I don’t think so," 
was the reply. "Hmm…he’s still cute, but I rather liked the dark hair," 
Synne meditated wistfully, "he DOES look attractive in a suit, however. 
Shall we go ask for his autograph???" "Hey—you’re the one who wants his 
autograph—-you ask!" "Alrighty then—-come along for moral support, will 
ya???" Synne got her pen and her ticket stub. They got up and walked around
the midway towards the section where Ken was chatting with some friends. 
Synne began to walk down, and noticed Delyn wasn’t following along properly, 
so she beckoned her and said, "Oh, come on, don’t be scared," half-mockingly. 
After a while Delyn walked down the steps too. The little dark-haired girl 
walked the rest of the way down and having gotten Ken’s attention, couldn’t 
bring herself to say a word, and so just pushed the pen and ticket stub at 
him, and after receiving it back, ran away as quickly as her legs could 
carry her, only mouthing the words ‘thank you’. "You’re a dork," said Delyn, 
"He’s a dork too. You two are dorks together." "I am so embarrassed. He 
probably thinks I’m a rude little freak. (Which of course I am, but I 
don’t want him to know it.)" Synne grieved. Upon getting back to their 
seats, Ms. Minors teasingly said, "There’s your little friend—-you want to 
ask him for his autograph???" "We just did," Synne replied.
	 
She raced after the tall blond figure striding towards the concessions 
stand. "Ken???" He turned at the sound of his name. "Ye-es???" "I was 
wondering if I could have a picture with you???," entreated the small 
blue girl. "Sure." He put a casual arm around her, and she waveringly 
put an arm around his waist as well. She smiled impishly at the black 
lens of the camera held by Delyn. It was over all too quickly. He 
withdrew his arm, and she withdrew hers. "Thank you," she remembered 
to say, before he turned back to his original purpose. "He’s really 
tall," she remarked dryly to no one. 
	

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