1. Josie

1

JOSIE

Tonight, the Toronto Knights are set to play against the Montreal Bears in an attempt to put an end to their six-game losing streak. Despite winning the Cup Championship two years ago, they missed out last year in a nail-biting finale after center Wyatt Boone, tore his ACL during the game. While things looked up for the Knights with the return of their star player this season, Boone's missing his edge, leaving both critics and fans wondering if he'll bounce back in time to save their season.

I winced as I read the article on my phone. I was one of those hockey fans worrying about the team. It was still early in the season, but six losses in a row was a bitter pill to swallow. Especially when the Knights have three of the best players in the league.

The sound of my name echoing through my office phone speaker pulled me from my thoughts, and I placed my phone face down on my desk.

"Hey, Josie, can I see you in my office for a moment?" My boss, Lydia Ellis, asked.

"I'm on my way," I replied, hitting save on the document I was working on before I was distracted by my phone. Tucking it into my pocket, I headed down the hall to my boss's office. There was a flurry of last-minute activity across the floor as everyone finished up their work for the day. I'd hoped to do the same, but I had a feeling my boss had other plans. On Friday's we rarely worked past three o'clock, and as the clock ticked closer, I was more than ready to head home and relax. There was a dull ache forming in my temples and behind my eyes from staring at my computer screen for far too long, and I was in dire need of a glass of wine.

Standing outside my boss's office, I took a moment to smooth over my clothes before I knocked twice and opened the door. Lydia sat at her desk, her short blonde hair all I could see as she focused on her computer screen, fingers flying over the keyboard.

"You needed me?"

"Yes, come in," Lydia said with a final tap on the keys before she looked up with a smile and leaned back in her chair. "How's the latest article coming along?" she asked, gesturing towards the chair opposite her desk.

"It's going well. I should have it done by Tuesday and ready for this month's edition," I returned her smile as I sat.

Working at Fusion Weekly Magazine was my dream job. When I graduated from university with a degree in English and Photography, I thought I'd be lucky just to find a job at all. Finding one I loved still seemed like a pipe-dream. I spent months applying for jobs, gradually moving away from anything even remotely related to my degree, settling for odd jobs just to pay my rent.

I was juggling shifts between a local pizzeria and a fashion retailer when Lydia found me. In the midst of all my applications, one of her colleagues passed my resume on to her, thinking I'd be a better fit for what she was looking for. She must have seen something she liked because she came to the pizzeria and waited patiently until my break. I stank of pizza and sure as hell didn't look like I belonged in an office, yet, after a quick chat, Lydia offered me a job at the magazine she was kick-starting.

Fusion Weekly was a mix between a magazine and a newspaper, hence the name. Our specialty was showcasing everything from local hot spots to keeping the city in the loop with upcoming events. I finally got to do what I enjoyed the most, taking photographs of food and people enjoying local events, concerts and sporting matches, and accompanying them with entertaining articles. All while getting paid. The cherry-on-top was the fact that Lydia had become one of my closest friends. I was living the dream. My dream.

"So…" By Lydia's tone, I knew I wasn't going home anytime soon, and I fought back the urge to groan. "I just received a last-minute request to send someone to cover a local football team that's made it to the state championships."

"And you said I would do it," I finished for her. Her sheepish grin gave the answer away.

"Why me?" I could hear the whine creeping into my voice as the thought of that glass of wine drifted further from my grasp. I'd already spent the whole week following a local charity group as they planned their annual fund-raising event, taking photos and talking to various members. Then there was my usual workload of editing, writing blogs and my usual array of articles.

"Look, I know you've already had a full week, but I can trust you to do a great job even though it's Friday afternoon. Besides," she leaned on her desk, her eyes pleading. "They promised it would only take an hour. Tops. You take the best pictures of anyone here at the office and I'll pay you overtime."

I narrowed my eyes. "You're trying to sweet talk me into this."

Lydia grinned. "Is it working?"

"Maybe."

Lydia rested her chin on her hands. "Did I say you're the best reporter and photographer I have? That I would be lost without you?" This time I gave in and groaned aloud. As both my boss, and my best friend, she knew exactly how to get me to say yes. Being a people pleaser was a real bitch sometimes.

"Fine, I'll do it," I mumbled, and I thought if Lydia's smile grew any wider her face would crack.

"You're a lifesaver, Josie." Relief flashed in her eyes before she tapped on her keyboard once more, resulting in a ping from my phone. "There. I've just emailed you the details. Just take some pictures and ask the boys how they feel about making it to the championship. Get a statement from the Coach–you know, the heart-felt, inspirational stuff. Then you're done for the week. You can leave writing the article for Monday."

I nodded absently, already reviewing the details of her email on my phone. At least it wasn't that far from the office, and the assignment seemed straight-forward enough. I thought I'd easily knock it out in an hour if not less.

"I guess I'd better get going then, but you owe me one," I said as I stood and headed for the door.

"Yeah, yeah, add it to the list. Text me when you are done. Let me know if you want to hangout this weekend."

I waved over my shoulder as I stepped out of her office, closing the door behind me. The floor was almost empty as I returned to my desk to gather my camera and handbag. The sooner I got to the football field, the sooner I could get home and relax.

"Just a little more to your right," I called out. "No, your other right."

I struggled to contain my frustration, sweeping my hair back from my face as the footballers jostled each other, not listening to a word I said. We were thirty-five minutes in, and I'd finally managed to get them all into position for the team photo. I hadn't expected to find it so challenging to fit forty-odd teenagers into a single frame, not to mention get them to hold their positions long enough for me to take the picture. I thought footballers were supposed to be disciplined, but this lot didn't take direction well.

At least, not from me. Instead, they argued about the order I positioned them in–which was in order of height. But then they wanted to change the order based on their jersey numbers, only then I couldn't see everyone. All the while, their coach stood off to the side, having an animated conversation on his phone, seemingly oblivious to disaster unfolding before me.

My frustration was building, and I felt like I was seconds away from completely losing it. One simple picture–that's all I was asking for. I've had little kids act better than this, and trust me, wrangling kids for a photograph is hard work. Taking pictures of them running plays was easy–each of them happy to show off.

After finally getting the boys position, I called over to the coach to have him join the team. I then rapidly took a series of photographs before they all started moving again. Over an hour, and all I had were the photos. It was tempting to leave it at that and get on with my weekend, but Lydia had specified she wanted comments for the article, and there was no way I was coming back again next week. Overtime or not.

With my camera hanging from my neck and my phone's voice recording app on, I walked over to the boys. "Who would like to make a comment for the article?" I called out over the loud chatter. An instantaneous sea of heads turned towards me, before I suddenly found myself swarmed. "Okay, okay! One at a time, please!" I waved my hands to quieten them.

I should have known that a bunch of teenage boys required specific instructions as their attempts at humorous questions were thrown at me.

"Are you single?" The boy in front of me asked, with a mouthful of braces and a horrific haircut. He couldn't have been more than sixteen, but clearly thought he was smooth. I raised an eyebrow at him in response. Around him his friends snorted, a few slapping him on the back for what they thought was a ballsy act. "In your dreams," I replied, turning to the next player. His question was no better.

"Are you into football players, babe?"

It took everything I had not to laugh at his attempt at a suave smirk. Sophisticated, these boys weren't.

"Nope. Next."

"How about you and me ditch this place and go get something to eat." This boy went so far as to wink at me. I decided to call his bluff.

"Sure. Do you have a car?" I asked. The kid sputtered in front of me, his cheeks reddening in response. "Thought so." Before another boy could ask me out or make some stupid horny comment, I held my hands up and took charge. "I'm twenty-five and so far out of your league. That goes for all of you. Now if anyone actually has something to say about this team, or the upcoming championship, then step forward. If not, I suggest you go wait for your parents to pick you up." The looks on their faces were priceless as suddenly none could meet my eye. They clearly weren't used to taking blows to their egos. With their humor deflated, they grumbled and started walking away towards the parking lot. I probably should have felt bad, but I didn't.

Aside from the fact they were all far too young, I was completely over this assignment. One that should have taken less than an hour had taken almost two. Yet, I still had no comments for the article. As I was about to call my losses and tell Lydia I'd come back next week, one of the boys appeared to change his mind as he turned and walked back towards me. He appeared to be one of the older of the team, 17 or 18, with a mop of dirty blond hair that he huffed out of his eyes.

"Sorry about them," he nodded back at the rest of his team. "I'm Mateo, team captain."

"Nice to meet you, Mateo."

"Do you still need some comments? I'm happy to help."

My eyebrows shot up, surprised by the legitimate offer. "Uh, yeah, I do." As much as I wanted to get home, I knew this was my way out of having to return on Monday. "I promise it will be quick." Before he could back out, I held my phone up and asked my first question. "So, this is the first time your team, The Greyhounds, has made it to the Championship. How excited are you and the team?"

"We're pumped!" he grinned, lighting up his features with excitement. "We came so close last year, but this year we're going to win it. I know we can."

I was pleasantly surprised by the maturity of his response–especially compared to his teammates. "So, you're a high school senior, correct?"

He nodded, still smiling.

"After graduation, are you planning to continue playing at university?"

"Sure am. I already have a few schools I'm interested in and hoping to play for."

I went on to ask him a few more questions about his time on the team, what he enjoyed most about playing football, and how he liked his coach. Once I was satisfied I had enough for the article, I turned off my voice recorder and slid my phone in my pocket.

"Thank you, Mateo. I appreciate you taking the time to answer my questions."

"No problem. Happy to help." Mateo huffed his hair out of his eyes again before he grinned.

"Good luck at the Championship," I smiled back, not wanting to keep either of us away from the weekend any longer.

"Thanks!" Giving me a nod, he turned on his heel and jogged towards the parking lot. By now almost everyone was gone, only a few teens remained chatting as they waited for their parents, their coach long gone. Happy to have finally finished, I double checked I had all my things and headed back towards my car.

Sliding in the driver's seat, I pulled out my phone and sent Lydia a quick text to let her know I was done, including a reminder that she really owed me one. After securing my camera safely back in its case, I was finally ready to head home.