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The college paper, the Caldwell Chronicle met up before the semester started, and I was in the meet up, in the back of the room, watching as anxiety swelled in my throat and I was going to be given the worst assignments because there was a part of my brain that refused to co-operate and allow me to advocate for what I wanted.

Sometimes, not often enough, bouts of confidence took over me, like when Luke, the captain of the Orcas asked me about my thoughts on the team and I came out with it, full throttle, all my thoughts blurted out onto the table. It was absolute chaos because I knew I wasn’t going to be assigned to the team if I didn’t prove myself, and I really wanted the perks. Free tickets to all the matches, and maybe even get to go with them on their away games.

The paper was student-run with a couple of faculty members from the journalism and English lit departments overseeing everything. I liked seeing the teachers, hoping they would see me sat there and acknowledge me. But they never did, they probably had so much going on with the semester starting this week.

Harper Lin, the editor-in-chief stood in front of the group. There had to be thirty or more of us, so attentions were spread thin. I was a speck of a person compared to everyone else as they raised their hands to ask questions on every little thing that was mentioned in the meeting.

“Assignments have been given to students with seniority,” she said. “Followed by teacher recommendations across the campus, we want to make sure everyone is where they want to be. So, to the sophomores who are now regular contributors to the Chronicle, I want to make sure you’re all aware that you have the least amount of seniority, and you will be given any assignments that remain.”

She was basically telling me I was going to be stuck in something I wasn’t passionate about, but that didn’t even matter because I knew that I could write about anything.

“Lead journalist for our news section is Avery Johnson,” Harper said, followed by a quick applause. “The upcoming semester is going to be full of campus events, so there will be plenty of opportunity to pitch and write ideas.”

As they went down, handing out assignments, the pit in my stomach gargled and everyone glanced at me. It wasn’t the ideal way to pull focus. Everyone had bodily functions, mine was just starving after refusing to eat and only get by on a morning full of French vanilla lattes.

“Ok, we have this one coming in by special requestion,” they said, glancing at the sheet in front of them. “Wren Duffy,” she said. “Where’s Wren Duffy?”

I raised my hand and once more, the creek of all the chairs echoed in the room as everyone turned to see me. “Hi,” I said.

“Okay,” she said. “Coach Michael Sullivan for the Caldwell Orcas has requested you as the journalist for the team.”

A girl in the front row scoffed. “No,” she said. “I’m supposed to be assigned the ice hockey team. I’m dating one of their players. Come on. That insight is invaluable.”

Frozen to my seat, I was hoping for the assignment, but now that I’d been given it, those nerves were back and angrier.

“Actually, it’s best that we have someone who isn’t personally connected to the team,” Harper said. “Wren is going to be reporting for the team. Whatever you said to their coach seems to have worked. It’s not often we have the team coaches come to us, but it’s better they come to us about happy news rather than the expose they’re trying to bury.”

“It’s really not fair though, is it,” the woman said. “Well, do I at least get an assignment for another team?”

“Sophia Martinez you are reporting for the swim team,” she said. “You requested it alongside the ice hockey team, and I have in my notes that you used to be on your high school swim team, so it fits in with your past.”

Sophia glared at me. “No, I tried out for the swim team here, I can’t go back there.”

“Well, all the assignments have been handed out. You can write for the other sections, but you’ll have to pitch to the leads and to the editors. As all of you will,” she said. “It’s important to remember that you get out of the paper what you put in. It only works if you work for it.”

“What about the women’s ice hockey team?” she asked.

A scoff broke out from beside her. “I’m a senior, I’ve had the women’s ice hockey team for two years. You’re not taking my assignment.”

Sophia continued to glare at me. The last thing I needed was to be making enemies. I’d seen her in some of my journalism classes last year, so I was familiar with her approach at sucking up to teachers and then also with the way she would answer every single question before anyone could get the chance.

“Listen,” Harper said. “Assignments are just that, everyone is free to pitch and write for other section of the paper. However, it’s unlikely to be added. Since Caldwell is a D1 college and fund most of the paper, it’s important we give the coaches the students they prefer to have write for them. If you really have an issue, take it up with them, but in my sophomore year, I got into a heat conversation with Coach Rotherham for the men’s basketball team and to this day, he will not let me attend a game.”

My anxiety didn’t need to be this sky high, and Bloo was in my messenger bag, out of reach, and out of comfort for me to grab hold of and squeeze my feelings into.

Once the editor-in-chief, Harper had finished with her speeches that we supposed to be filling us with hope and opportunity, she introduced us to the other staff who worked for the paper, which most of us already knew, but there were a couple of sophomores I hadn’t seen before, probably weren’t even majoring in journalism or communications.

The humanities building was a short trek away from the larger and main campus areas. It was another sign I needed to invest in a bike, or one of those electric scooters I could whoosh around on.

Sophia cornered me outside the building. “Listen,” she said, swiping a blond lock of hair behind an ear. “I’m going to read every single write-up you put out for the team, and I will report back on them until you decide to give up and hand over the assignment.” She clocked her head to the side and smiled. “You got that?”

“I—I—”It was high school behavior. We were supposed to have left that behind already. “It’s not my fault I was given it. I guess I spent more time at the rink.”

She rolled her eyes. “Highly impossible, considering I’m always there. My boyfriend is one of their best players, so, don’t make me use my connections. I will.”

Behind her, a familiar face appeared. It was Luke, his brow furtive and pinched together. “Are you stalking me?” he asked, but the seriousness on his face broke into a big smile.

“Lucky,” Sophia said, spinning on her heel. “Oh my god. I’m dating Finn.”

“Does he know that?” he asked.

She laughed. “So funny. Anyway, I was just saying to my friend here, that we should switch assignments. He’s supposed to be doing the reporting for the Orcas this season, and obviously, since I’m more connected, I should do it.”

My jaw clenched so hard I figured I’d end up losing a tooth from the hard grind happening, and Bloo was still in my bag, unable to get to him was really a struggle right now. Both taller than me it seemed, looming over me, their smiles a mixture of menace and fright.

“Congrats,” he said. “Coach will be pleased to know you got it. And we should talk sometime, I want to boost the team’s image through the paper, if you wanna help with that.”

“Thanks,” I let out in a quiet blurt.

“But don’t you think I’d be better?” Sophia asked.

“I don’t even know you,” Luke said.

She laughed again. “You’re hilarious. Well, I’m gonna go, I’m going to see my boyfriend and tell him I didn’t get what I wanted, so hopefully if you change your mind, R—Rich—Ree—”

“Wren,” Luke said. “His name is Wren.”

The smile might’ve had a different meaning to it now. I was on the spot, trying to figure out what he wanted from me, and it didn’t take a detective to know Sophia wanted to report for the Orcas.

Sophia walked off, strutting up the path from the humanities building toward the center of campus. I stood in front of Luke with my hand in my messenger bag, playing with the fabric of Bloo’s tail, feeling the fray of cotton bundle between my fingers.

“I’m studying business management,” Luke said, unprompted. “It’s my back up plan, in case going pro doesn’t work out for me.”

“You don’t have to talk to me,” I mumbled. He was literally the hottest man on campus, and everyone looked in his direction when they got close enough. “I’m not going to write anything bad about you. You’re a good player.”

He sighed, sucking his lower lip in his mouth and pressing his top teeth down slightly. “We stared at each other for a moment, and I was willing to break the conversation short there and have him just see me as the fly on the wall reporter that I wanted to be.

“I kinda feel like I was an ass to you when you came by the rink,” he said. “You didn’t deserve that, and I’ve got a lot going on. Which again, I shouldn’t take out on anyone. Only the puck, am I right?”

“It’s fine, really. I’m used to people seeing me and then just forgetting I was there,” I grumbled out. One thing my therapist had told me was to stand straighter and look at people when I spoke, it should help project my voice and give me confidence in speaking.

“You wanna go grab a coffee and I’ll let you pick my brain about anything.”

“I’m—” I looked up at him, the sunlightin his eyes, hitting just right. How could I say no to that look? “Sure. I have like an hour or so. Or fifteen minutes, however long you have.”

He nodded and continued to hold that gorgeous smile I knew people swooned over, and today, I was going to be one of them, right here on the paving, my entire body would drop lack a sack and all I’d remember was that he’d smiling my direction.

We walked to the center of campus where the main cafeteria was. I barely said a word on the walk over, he seemed to be doing damage control with me, which meant I wasn’t imagining things, and he was cold towards me when we were introduced.

The cafeteria was quiet given most students hadn’t moved in yet. They would all be arriving soon though, and then this place would be packed at all times. I wouldn’t miss it though, everything came with salad garnishing, and that was a big nope for me.

Sat at a table with coffees, Luke had a large chocolate pastry while I was still reeling from the verbal confrontation at the humanities building.

“I’m kinda surprised I hadn’t seen you around at any of the games last season,” he said. “You know a lot about the team.”

I nodded, but realized he couldn’t read my mind, and I had to use words. “I tried to attend as many games as I could.”

“Do you skate?”

“Oh no, I’d probably go into the splits and break both my legs.”

Luke laughed. I’d made him laugh. The earth needed to desperately open and swallow me whole. Please. “We’re gonna have to get you on the ice, you know. Someone is my business class once said, how can you talk about the market if you don’t experience it directly, talking about being more than just financially invested, but also emotionally. It’s whatever, not the point. But you need to feel the ice, see how fast we really go.”

“It’s—it’s dangerous though. I’ll stay by the sidelines and watch, well, behind the glass.”

He broke off the edge of his chocolate croissant and shoved it in his mouth, getting pastry flakes all over the table and up his t-shirt. “I’m not asking you to take part in a game, because that’s not for the weak. People would kill to get on the ice with us.”

“I’m not a killer,” I said.

He laughed again, pounding a fist on the table. “I really misjudged you. You’ve got a subtle humor, I love it.”

“Thanks, I guess.” My stomach knotted, I drank some of my coffee, hoping I wasn’t going to explode on the seat because being this anxious and adding caffeine was often not the best mix.

“When classes start next week and we get practices scheduled, I want you to be coming over and observing so I can introduce you. I’m assuming the Orcas are still getting a full page in the paper.”

I didn’t know the exact page layout or word counts, so I nodded and tried to look like I knew what I was talking about. “I know my first write-up is going to be about you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. The new captain, where you plan on taking the team this season, and how you’re going to get there,” I said. They were questions I had, burning to be asked, but I hadn’t prepared a thing, so they’d have to wait. “If you have any time free next week, we can do an interview style thing then.”

He nodded. “Let me give you my number. We can text about it. And I want to run some things by you about social media stuff.”

I quickly shook my head. “Oh, no, I’m not on social media.” Except for an account I had on a fan fiction website where I posted some of my writing.

“It’s just ideas. We have a social media guy for the team, but you’re—” he gestured at me.

I didn’t know what he was gesturing at first, and then I saw the pride pin on my jacket, his hand had clearly pointed to it, but before I could double check, he was going in for another bite of his pastry. Now, I had more questions, but not for the paper, for him. I didn’t know what he meant by it, and too much time had passed, I couldn’t ask him.

“Here is my number,” he said, turning his phone around on the counter showing his details. “I’m serious about getting you on the ice. Even if you hate it, it’ll be good for the socials. Right?”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Also, don’t worry about skates, you can borrow some,” he said.

After the exchange, I was left wondering what he wanted with me and his social media account. I didn’t have a following, I was a nobody. A nobody with a pride pin, and then the question seemed to answer itself. He was using me to appeal to the LGBTQ+ community on campus, not like I’d ever attended one of the meetings they held.