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“Connor, honey. Does my makeup look okay?”
Helen Whisk looks up from the Samwell leaflet she’s been blindly staring at while her girlfriend fixes her makeup before dinner. She smiles at Sarah. “It looks great. I love your eyeshadow!” She doesn’t say that she’d love to wear it herself, because she doesn’t know how Sarah would react and - more importantly - knows exactly how both of their parents, sitting downstairs right now, would react.
“Thanks babe,” Sarah says and turns back to the mirror on Helen’s wall.
Helen returns to staring at the picture under the slogan “One in four, maybe more”. There’s a girl smiling widely in a skirt and a lacy top, but maybe because of how aware Helen is of the same qualities in herself, she can clearly see the Adam’s apple on the girl in the picture. She looks happy and looks perfectly comfortable standing there in the grassy quad. Helen tries to ignore the pang of longing for a life she can’t have.
It’s stupid, honestly, because she has no intention of ever telling anyone. She knows she wants to get to the NHL and has the skills to do so, but just the idea of being Helen Whisk on the ice makes her shudder. She doesn’t necessarily want to play as Connor Whisk, she just knows that, by letting everyone think that, she can keep being defined by her hockey, and that’s all she wants to do. She wants to play hockey, and she won’t let anything get in the way of that. She’d much rather be Whisk, #10, than have people either hate or fawn over her because she’s Helen Whisk.
But still, college means a room of her own where her parents can’t find anything while cleaning up. They’ve agreed to pay for a single in an athletic suite to ensure Helen doesn’t have to worry about a roommate disturbing her studying or sleeping. She hasn’t allowed herself to think too much about the possibilities that will open up, but she’s been wanting to try clothes more similar to the girl on the leaflet for longer than she can remember.
But after over a decade, what’s a few more days until she moves to Samwell, away from the suffocating atmosphere of home and family.
She’s going to miss Sarah, but they both knew this was happening ever since she said she wasn’t going to apply to anywhere near where Helen would be going to. But still, they’re together now, so Helen gets up to hug Sarah from behind. She’s done with her makeup by now, and turns her head back to say, “Oh, hi.”
Helen just hugs her tighter. “I’m going to miss you.”
Sarah smiles. “Yeah, me too. I know we talked about how difficult a long distance relationship is going to be, but we’ll stay friends even if the relationship doesn’t work out, I promise.”
“Yeah, of course.” Helen doesn’t know if she’s lying or not. She loves Sarah, both as a girlfriend and as just a friend, but loving Sarah is so tangled up in all the expectations that she’ll marry her high school sweetheart and be a perfect husband and father. And maybe she will, but she’s just about to start college and does not want to think about that just yet.
Eventually Helen’s mom calls out, “Dinner’s ready, come down, you two.”
Helen sighs and leaves the flyer on the bed open to a picture of the campus in winter. It’s beautiful, covered in snow and looking a world away from the dry landscape of Arizona. She just hopes it will really feel like being a world away.
“Right, son. Is that everything, then?”
Helen looks around the little dorm room. The bed’s done with a simple blue bedspread, there are hockey posters and pictures of her family and Sarah on the wall along with a poster of the Grand Canyon. Out of the window she can see the campus with its brick buildings, green trees, and students bustling around. Her mom’s just finished putting all her clothes in the closet, nothing but polos and khakis and sportswear.
“Yeah, that should be it. Thanks for taking the trip to move me in, it’s a long way from home.”
Her mom turns from the closet, frowning. “Honey, of course we did. Our son’s starting college, we wouldn’t miss it for the world!”
Her father nods. “Of course not, we want to see what kind of place you’ll be spending the next four years at.”
“That reminds me, have you met any of your new teammates? Or suitemates?” Helen’s mother asks.
They got in so early that no one else was there yet, which Helen was happy about, but now her mom is marching her out to meet new people.
“Hi! My name is Tony and I’m starting on the hockey team! What’s your name?” a guy with brown hair says with the eagerness of a golden retriever, shaking hands with Helen’s mom for some reason.
“On the hockey team? So is Connor! Connor, say hi to Tony!”
Helen steps out and really gets a good look at Tony. He’s her height, with bright blue eyes and brown hair that seems to grow in every direction.
“Hi. Whisk,” she offers and moves to shake hands with him.
Instead, Tony pulls her into a hug, and not just a brief bro-hug with a clap on the back. No, this is a proper hug, and Helen revels in how good it feels. She can smell his cologne, and the weight of his arms makes Helen want to stay there forever.
As soon as it stops being rude to do so, Helen pulls back, extremely conscious of her mom standing right there. It doesn’t matter what she wants, he’s a teammate and she’s not going to make it weird.
“So Tony, what do you want to study?”
He starts babbling away about all his interests, and Helen comes away with a vague idea of “math, philosophy or education”. Still, he seems nice and although her own enthusiasm is very focused on the ice, she likes how passionate he seems to be about everything.
“So why do you like economics?” Tony asks, and Helen has no idea how to respond.
“It’s useful.” She can’t say she doesn’t like economics, but she’s never really thought about what she’d really want to study. As it is, economics is easy and can get her a good job if hockey doesn’t work out.
Her mother, who is somehow not reading the room and going away, butts in. “Connor’s always been so practical. I mean, hockey is a wonderful dream and the NHL is a great possibility, but you never know what’s going to happen!”
Helen tries to keep the grimace off her face.
“NHL? Wow, that is so cool! I can’t wait to play with you! What position do you play? I’m a D-man!”
Hockey. That’s an easy thing to talk about, and Helen starts to relax. “I play center. I’m really looking forward to getting on the ice with the team.”
They’re talking about their favourite teams - Helen likes the Coyotes and apparently Tony’s entire family has always supported the Devils - when Tony’s parents come over to take him out for lunch.
Helen waves goodbye to Tony. He was nice. She lets that float around in her mind as she goes back to checking that she has everything she needs in her room.
“Good morning, gentlemen!” the tiny Southern guy on the steps of the hockey frat exclaims. It stings, of course it does, but Helen is relieved. She’s heard rumours about some guy who graduated last year who was always yelling about gender politics and everything. But he’s graduated, and hopefully no one will ask for her pronouns so she doesn’t need to outright lie, and she can just focus on the Hockey instead of the Men’s in the team name.
And okay, she doesn’t want to stereotype, but the way this Bitty talks and the way he bakes seem to suggest something or other. Helen tucks that away. She has no intention of telling these people anything they don’t need to know. She’s just here to play hockey, not to become the focus of anything off the ice. But still, it’s nice to know that maybe the homophobic chirping will be only from other teams, not from her own like it was before, although she always did a fine job keeping her head down, so it wasn’t targeted at her any more than anyone else.
The other newcomers to the team (Tadpoles, maybe?) stand around seemingly taking it all in like Helen is. She nods at Tony, who immediately comes over to her.
“Isn’t it so cool! The Haus, like in German!”
“Yeah, I guess so. It looks nice,” Helen says, not wanting to dampen his enthusiasm with her apprehension.
She gets nicknamed quickly, which is a relief, because the more people call her Whiskey (and not Whiskers, thank you for the suggestion, Chowder, but no ) the less they’ll say Connor. Although Jack Zimmermann’s always been a big idol of hers, she is very happy to not end up like he did, with no nickname ever sticking. Tony gets his nickname equally fast - Tango - but there’s no one for whom the nickname Foxtrot makes any sense, so the jokes the captains start making about their genius naming decision fall a little bit flat.
Speaking of Jack Zimmermann, even though he’s graduated it feels as though he’s always hovering over them, because all the upperclassmen are still talking about him. Bitty calls him passionate, and the co-captains, who seem to be attached at the hip, speak very highly of his captaining too, even though the blonde one starts yelling about sheep for some reason.
As Ransom drags his friend away with a laugh, Helen can’t help but conclude that passionate certainly applies to most members of this team. She can’t blame them. No one plays hockey at D1 level if they don’t have a passion for it, a passion that is enough to beat all the injuries, bruises and aching muscles from hours spent skating and working out, a passion that makes waking up before dawn worth it, a passion that lets them ignore all the comments they hear from opponents, teammates and media. A passion that only grows from losses, a passion fed by the joy of winning and the crushing feeling of giving your all and knowing it isn’t enough. A passion to grow, so that next time your all will be enough to win. So yes, they’re all passionate.
Helen is passionate to make her mark on the ice, but only on the ice. When she looks at the teal-covered bedroom of the goalie, she wonders how Chowder feels being known by the freshmen first for his obsession with the Sharks instead of his ability in the goal. She resolves to never find out for herself.
Helen and Brad meet in an economics lecture. He lets his eyes wander across her body as he invites Helen over to do homework, and Helen wonders if hooking up will always be this easy.
She knows nothing about Brad except his name and phone number before she shows up at his address and realises it’s directly opposite the Haus. She curses under her breath and looks both ways before approaching the house and texting Brad to let her in.
She’s got her homework in her backpack just in case she misread the invitation, but Brad pulls her into his room and kisses her as soon as he gets the door closed.
Afterwards, she tells him, gesturing towards the Haus, “I had no idea you played lacrosse. I was worried my teammates would notice.”
“Oh, you play hockey? Don’t worry, I have no intention of letting anyone find out.”
Helen laughs. “Yeah, me neither. I’ve got a girlfriend back home.”
“Yeah, of course. It’s cool, we’re just blowing off steam.”
It’s nice to have someone to hook up with, and this is the least risky option, but Helen almost misses what she had with Sarah.
But really, Brad’s better than nothing and a great kisser, and if she kisses him hard enough she’s too busy to wonder about having an actual relationship at college. She can have a physical relationship now, and maybe she can still have Sarah’s familiar presence after Samwell.
Helen doesn’t so much become friends with Denice Ford - Foxtrot, they call her - as get dragged along by Tony’s enthusiasm and intuition until she gets to know Foxtrot enough to learn that there’s never been any reason to not be friends with her. She’s nice and can really command a room, but Helen’s just never been quick to warm up to anyone. Still, Tony likes her and that’s the best indication of trust she can get, so Helen listens to her talk - listens to her and Tony talk - and slowly they get closer.
The first time she feels confident to call her and Denice friends is at the first show of the play she’s the stage manager for. Helen and Tony show up with flowers and clap for everyone, but the loudest when Denice shows up to take a bow. She spots them in the audience and smiles.
She’s apologetic after they give her the flowers, saying they have a tradition for after the first showing and she can’t hang out with them.
So they take her out for celebratory fro-yo after the second show, still carrying the new flowers.
It’s late and they’re sitting outside eating fro-yo, chatting about nothing, when Tango asks: “So, why are they called vacuum cleaners? Houses have air, don’t they?”
Denice looks like she’s about to start explaining it, but she must catch a glint in Tony’s eye, because instead she punches his arm. “Tango!”
He grins at her, and says through laughter: “I know why, but I still think it’s weird!”
As Helen looks at Tony and Denice, both laughing so hard they’re almost falling out of their chairs, something warm seems to fill her chest. It seems so distant but also so so familiar. It fills Helen with a surety: These are her friends, and she never wants to part from them.
After they’ve walked Denice to her dorm and after Helen’s said bye to Tony in the common room of their suite, she sits on her bed. Her eye catches the picture of Sarah on the wall.
A distant echo of the warm feeling in her chest comes back. She tries to shake off the similarity. She and Sarah were friends first, that’s all there is to whatever this is. Hooking up with Brad is risky, following this feeling would be stupid and would probably ruin the best friendship she’s ever had.
Helen goes to bed and resolutely decides not to think about anything. It doesn’t work, of course, but at least she can’t quite tell who the person kissing her in the dream is.
Her parents don't really care about hockey, but that summer when she’s back in Arizona she convinces them to watch the Cup Finals with her. “The guys all like the Falcs, since the older ones all played with Jack Zimmermann,” she offers as explanation when they ask why she isn’t just moping about the Coyotes’ miserable season. It’s Jack’s name that gets them on the couch with her; he appears to be the only non-Coyotes NHL player they’re familiar with.
Helen’s on the edge of her seat for the entirety of the last game. As the horn finally sounds, she’s filled with so much relief she slumps back into the couch, hoping to become one with its material. “That was a damn nice goal, wasn’t it?” her dad says. “You hoping for similar results in your rookie year?” he asks with a slap on her shoulder.
Helen laughs. “That’s the dream, isn’t it?”
Her dad nods. “Well, that’s the hockey season all done and finished, then. Good for the Falconers. And that Jack Zimmermann, I’m sure they’ll ask you how it feels to go against him when you first play the Falconers.”
She tries to brush it off: “Oh, I don’t even know him really, he graduated before I joined, I’ve just heard what the upperclassmen say about him.”
“All good things I bet, he seems like a great player.”
“So I’ve heard.” To stop this conversation she doesn’t want to be having, Helen points to the TV screen. “Oh hey, that’s Bitty - Eric Bittle - on screen. He’s our captain next year. He’s a great player too.” He’s clinging tight to Jack, who seems almost more happy now than he did lifting the Stanley Cup.
Right as Helen has that thought, Jack kisses Bitty. Still holding him up, right at center ice.
Helen feels like she’s watching in slow motion as Jack says something to his parents, then shrugs and bends down to kiss Helen’s new captain again.
She’s already mentally bracing herself when her dad makes a disgusted noise. “Your new captain, huh? Be careful, son. And don’t pay too much mind to it when someone calls you like Zimmermann. You didn’t know what he was like.”
Helen nods. Even knowing it was coming, it still feels like she’s being checked into the boards. She can feel her throat burning and she knows she’s about to cry. Before she loses control completely, she jerks up from the sofa. “I have to text the team. I don’t think any of us had any idea.”
Before her dad can say anything, she flees to her room.
Her phone’s already blowing up with messages, but she ignores all of them to find her groupchat with Tony and Denice.
Whiskey
Holy shit, did you see what just happened?
Tango
Yeah! I’m really happy for them! I think Bitty’s been struggling with keeping this secret!
Foxtrot
Huh. That’s big. Really brave of them!
Whiskey
Wait did you know, Tony??
Tango
Yeah? I thought they were just keeping it to the team, but they’re pretty obvious, aren’t they?
Helen feels a surge of panic at that. It was pretty obvious Bitty was dating someone, but Jack ? If Tango noticed that, what else might he have spotted?
Foxtrot
Really, Tango? Maybe I’ve just been so busy running the team and haven’t hung out with everyone that much, but I really didn’t suspect anything like this.
Whiskey
I figured Bitty was dating someone, but I had no idea about Jack
Helen’s mind is spinning. The NHL has changed forever, but so has her parents’ relationship with Samwell. The only reason they approved Samwell was that Jack Zimmermann went there, and obviously that meant the hockey team was good, but now they know that both Jack and Helen’s future captain are queer.
Helen buries her head in her hands. She’s tired and really wants to be back at Samwell.
Whiskey
I miss you guys. I wish I was back at Samwell already.
Tony and Denice’s responses say the same, though she knows it’s not the same for them.Their company through the phone doesn’t change the fact that she’s still stuck here for most of summer break apart from a training camp she was invited to, but at least they’re a reminder that she won’t be living with her parents forever.
Bitty is Samwell’s captain, and became the first out one by kissing his boyfriend at center ice right after the Stanley Cup final. Helen’s parents mostly calm down about it after a week or so of alternating concern for Helen and disgust and scorn towards Jack and Bitty. Helen tells them time and time again that she mostly just hangs out with Tony and Denice, not spending much time at the Haus.
Sure, being at Samwell means Helen doesn’t hear homophobia from her own team, but now the homophobia Bitty is experiencing seems to explode. Helen and Bitty are on the same line, and although she mostly notices it from the way Bitty looks even more grim than usual after some checks, sometimes the jeers get loud enough that Helen can hear them. The refs are also too close to not hear, but they never seem to do anything unless a check is too dirty to have any plausible deniability.
Helen just grits her teeth and resolves to play the best hockey she can, like she always does, and when they’re being especially nasty she focuses even more on passing the puck to Bitty than shooting herself. He always looks happier after a goal, and the opposition more frustrated. It’s early enough in her college career that she has time to rack up goals for contract negotiations later. Besides, given how much the media is following Bitty, the assists are probably giving her more airtime and attention than her own goals would.
Even when people encourage Bitty and tell him how much him being out means to them, all the attention just cements Helen’s plan of not telling anyone. She wonders if Bitty ever feels bad, knowing that people probably care more about his boyfriend and their relationship than the hockey either of them play. Bitty seems to like the attention, always stopping when a kid asks him to sign something or a couple wants a picture with him, but Helen is sure she’ll get tired of that in the NHL even without anything special off the ice.
Helen has always felt comfortable in a hockey uniform, because on the ice she’s just Whisk, and she’s known first and foremost for how good she is at hockey. No one asks about anything else if they’re too busy talking about her point streak or hat trick. But outside the ice, it always feels like everything she wears is a bit off, all her clothes feeling tight and suffocating. She doesn’t know if dresses will feel right either, but in college she finally has the opportunity to try.
She’s been thinking of wearing dresses ever since she was a little kid, only barely old enough to know she’s not supposed to want it and old enough to keep her mouth shut about it. Still, after over a decade of wanting, she’s suddenly scared that the dresses won’t feel right. That she’ll be thrown back into the limbo of questioning, unsure of her name and gender which she’s known from before she knew hockey was going to be her future. She’s also worried she’ll jeopardise that future, because what if the dress feels too good? What if giving in to the want will change her plans of never telling anyone? She knows that nothing good will come of showing everyone this secret while trying to play hockey on a serious level.
Still, the cheap dress ordered online has been hidden at the back of her closet long enough, and Helen Whisk doesn’t like leaving things halfway.
Behind closed curtains and a locked door, she pulls on a simple yellow dress. She’s intensely aware of how much her body differs from the women in the dress adverts, but a flat chest doesn’t matter so much when she can feel the soft and light fabric settle against her skin, so much more welcoming of her than the polo shirts she pulls on every single morning. Smiling at the feel of the satin straps on her shoulders, she turns her attention to the skirt of the dress. It ends just above her ankle, hiding her leg hair but not smothering her like her usual trousers. She slowly turns around while looking in the mirror, seeing the way the dress lies on her body, and she feels so happy she wants to cry.
She focuses on the feel of the dress and turns around faster, twirling in a circle. It makes her feel silly, almost childish, but the sensation of the hem fluttering gracefully takes all those thoughts away. She feels like she’s on the ice, watching as a puck flies towards the goal, already able to see the goalie won’t make it in time to stop it. She never wants the feeling to end.
She’d thought she would just take a quick look at the dress and go back to her regular clothes, but the door’s locked and there’s no harm in a little self indulgence. Helen keeps the dress on as she settles into her desk chair and continues an essay about the role of monetary policy in the US economy.
There’s a knock on the door just as Helen’s making sure the arrows on her diagram are going in the right direction. “Hang on a second,” she yells just as the door opens.
Helen jumps up from the chair and turns, heart hammering in her throat. Did she really forget to lock the door?
Tango looks momentarily confused, then his face melts into a grin. “Whiskey! That dress looks great on you!”
Helen flounders for a moment, wondering if she should just turn Tango away, but then says, “Tango, could you come in and close the door behind you?” not wanting anyone else in the suite to see or hear any of this. She’s panicking, but she is going to keep it under control. If she keeps calm, Tango won’t think twice about whatever explanation she’ll give for all of this.
Tango does, looking puzzled. “Sorry, was this a secret? I should have waited, but it’s okay, you look really great.”
After a thoughtful pause he adds, “I know liking dresses doesn’t equal liking makeup, but Ford’s really good at makeup, isn’t she? If you want help with it I’m sure she’d help you. I’ve tried some eyeliner, but in the end I didn’t really like it.”
Helen’s been standing stiff right where she jumped to at the initial surprise. Her heart’s still hammering, but now her brain’s also buzzing harder than ever.
She makes a decision.
“No, it’s not- This doesn’t mean anything, I just thought it might be funny, but I don’t-”
“Oh, sorry, I thought-”
“No, it’s not anything like- I’m not- I just wanted to try it out. Please don’t tell Ford, because there isn’t anything to tell, I just thought it would be funny to try on a dress.”
Helen doesn’t know if she’s imagining the flash of sadness on Tango’s face. It could just be her own feelings reflected, because as much as denying everything and calling this a joke feels the safest and smartest thing to do, it also hurts to lie to a friend.
Tango nods. “Of course, I’d never. Um, I came over originally to ask if you wanted to go to the dining hall together.”
Helen can’t help but smile at the promise that her mistake, forgetting to lock the door, hasn’t ruined everything. “Yeah, sure. Just a sec, I’ll meet you in the common room.”
There’s no denying it, Tony looks clearly sad when Helen emerges from her room wearing her usual polo and khakis, but all the same he throws a hand over Helen’s shoulders and starts chatting away about his most recent Wikipedia spiral, this time on 19th century science fiction.
Helen thinks about thanking him, but there’s really no way to do that without prompting questions, so she just listens and asks questions whenever Tony pauses for breath. It seems that nothing has changed between them, and Helen is beyond relieved for it.
Some weeks pass, and it seems that Tony’s kept his word and no one else knows about the clothes carefully hidden in Helen’s room. Maybe for that reason his words keep echoing in her ears. “Do you want to tell Ford? She could teach you makeup if you want to.”
She wants to, but telling Ford isn’t something she feels like she can do, considering that she couldn’t even bear to confess to Tony, and the two of them have been friends longer than they’ve known Ford, even if the three of them are now all best friends.
So instead Helen watches makeup tutorials, headphones in but the volume still kept low enough that she has to turn on the captions to understand anything. The door is double- and triple-checked to be locked, but Helen still keeps glancing back at it between every brushstroke on her face. She tries to reason that the only person that would come in without waiting for her to open the door is Tony, and maybe him knowing this won’t be a total catastrophe.
Slowly, she gets more and more used to the habit of getting home after class or practice a few times a week and putting on eyeshadow and blush, and becomes able to really appreciate the way makeup makes her feel, rather than just terror at the prospect of being found out.
It doesn’t really feel like something she’d ever want to do every single day, but it’s fun every once in a while and she likes the way it makes her look and feel.
One thing she does adopt for daily use is nail polish. She’d found a list once, furtively looking things up on incognito mode, of subtle ways to feel more feminine. It suggested black nail polish as a somewhat socially acceptable alternative to more colourful styles, but it feels like too much for Helen and not really her style, so she wears clear polish, relishing in the smooth weight of it on her fingers.
It’s the first time she leaves her room with makeup on when everything goes wrong.
Helen shows up to the party nervous and glancing over her shoulder. Bitty had sat them all down after practice a week or so ago and specified that no one was togo to the party. Naturally, Helen had texted Brad immediately, asking if he wanted to go.
Because she knows most of the team is either scared of or respects their captain too much to question him, she’s decided to take an unnecessary and foolish risk, just because she thought it would be nice. As Helen waits and looks around for Brad in the darkening evening, she’s also hoping he won’t react badly to the makeup. It’s nothing too extreme, just some subtle eyeshadow and a tinted lip gloss, but even with the terror of wearing it outside, she feels so happy remembering the way she looked in the mirror and sensing the way the makeup feels on her.
Brad’s reaction isn’t ideal, but she doesn’t mind too much. He walks up and says, “Hey, sorry I’m late,” then does an almost comical double-take. “Whoa, makeup? I didn’t peg you for someone who’d like that.”
Helen just shrugs it off with a “Wanted to try it.” Neither of them is much of a talker, and they both know they’re here for the booze and the making out, not chatter and compliments.
They’re downstairs, the house thrumming with the energy of the music and all the people, far more than you’d think would comfortably fit into a frat house.
The music is loud and the lights are low, and no one is paying Helen and Brad any attention.
Helen’s got a hand on Brad’s back, pulling him towards her and the wall. They part from a kiss and Brad puts a hand on her cheek. “You know, now that I’m looking at it, that makeup looks pretty nice on you.”
Helen smiles and is about to kiss him when her eye catches something on the other side of the room.
She pushes Brad away, says, “Shit, that’s my captain, I’m sorry, I have to go,” pulls the hood of her hoodie deep over her head, and runs.
There’s nothing she can do about getting caught with Brad, there’s not much plausible deniability about that, but she sure as hell isn’t letting Bitty close enough to see the makeup.
Whiskey’s pushing through the people on the porch - wait, that’s the Waffles - as Bitty yells, “Whiskey, wait!”
She doesn’t, but Bitty catches her arm anyway. “Wait. It’s okay. I didn’t - or I’m not -”
Helen tries to tug her arm away, but when Bitty won’t let her go, she turns her head to glare at him.
Bitty’s eyes widen and he lets go. Helen doesn’t hesitate to take the opportunity to get away from where her captain and the team’s freshmen are all staring at her.
The light of the streetlamps is yellow and not very bright, but there’s no way Bitty didn’t see the makeup from that close. She knew it was a stupid idea, and now the stupid idea that she could look like what she wants outside her own room has shattered in her face. Brad and all the other partygoers don’t really matter, but Bitty is on her team, is her captain . Helen doesn’t know how she can show up to practice any more.
She wants to throw up, but even more than that she needs to get away from all of this, so she pushes all the emotions down and runs away.
Afterwards, Helen can’t quite remember how she got back to the dorm. She remembers running from Bitty reassuring her that he hadn’t seen anything, and somehow she made it to her room.
She sits on the floor of her room, breathing hard like after a long shift, but in the end, she gathers herself enough to go knock on Tango’s door.
“Hi, Whiskey! Oh, are you wearing makeup? It looks really good,” Tango says, before Helen can say anything.
Helen looks at him, feeling like she’ll start crying if she says anything, and that’s when she sees Ford.
She takes one look at Helen and goes, “Hey, what’s wrong, come here. Can I give you a hug?”
Helen nods and when Ford opens her arms she almost collapses into them.
Eventually Helen composes herself and pulls away from the hug. “Uh, thanks.”
Helen stands there, trying to collect her thoughts for what feels like a lifetime but is probably only a few seconds. They’ve already seen the makeup, and Tony’s seen the dress. Bitty already knows about Brad, so what’s the point of trying to keep it completely under wraps any more? She trusts her two friends more than she’s probably ever trusted anyone. Ford’s mentioned former partners with pronouns ranging from he to she to they to others that Helen is only barely familiar with, and Tony’s never said anything bad about it.
Helen makes the decision.
She leans back on the door. “Guys? I need to tell you something.”
Tony and Denice both make noises of agreement, watching her carefully.
“You are my best friends and I wasn’t planning on saying anything, but Bitty kind of found out and I really don’t want to talk about this with him, so.”
She doesn’t want to look at them. If she does, she will never get the words out, so she looks at a bright orange pen that’s fallen next to Tony’s desk and fidgets with her sleeve. “I’m bi. And transgender. My name is Helen.”
She wants to explain more, but she needs to know first. Helen looks up. Tony’s smiling. “Me too! Well, not the trans part, but anyway.”
Denice says, “Thank you for trusting us.” She looks from Helen to Tony and smiles. “So, I guess we’re all bi, what a coincidence.” After a pause, she says carefully: “Can I ask about Bitty?”
Helen nods. “So I’ve been hooking up with this LAX bro and we went to a party. The party that Bitty told everyone not to go to.”
Tango winces.
“Yeah, that went well. Bitty saw us. I guess he doesn’t technically know I’m trans but he did see the makeup, so...” Helen shrugs.
“I’m not planning on coming out to anyone else. I mean, I’m going to the NHL and beyond that I just don’t want to stand out in that way. And I just know Bitty’s going to make a huge deal about this.” She can feel her speech getting faster; she’s babbling and nervous and scared.
“I could talk to him if you want,” Denice offers, concern clear on her face.
Helen contemplates the offer. It might work, but at the same time she hopes if she doesn’t mention it to Bitty he’ll just drop it. “I think I’d prefer to just not think about it, but thank you.”
There’s a brief awkward moment but then Denice says, “Helen, that’s a lovely name.”
Tony nods in agreement. “Did you know Helen of Troy was the most beautiful woman in all of ancient Greece?” he asks after a moment of thought, and something flutters in Helen’s stomach, both relief at how easily both of them are taking this and the crush that she’s had on her best friends since freshman year.
The rest of the year goes by much the same way, except Tony and Denice have taken to calling her Whiskey in public and Helen in private, and she doesn’t hold back from calling male actors attractive when they hold movie nights. It’s nice, even if it’s a bit of an adjustment to respond instinctively to Helen the same way she does to Connor, but only when around Tony and Denice.
She and Brad still hook up, but both of them are pretty rattled by the party, so they keep it to their rooms now. She can feel something waning between them, but it’s never been a close friendship for her, and nothing romantic, so if Brad’s not going to call it off she won’t be the one to end the best way she has for letting off steam.
Bitty tries to corner Helen sometimes, at team breakfast or after practice, but once it’s clear he doesn’t want to talk about her on-ice performance she starts avoiding any moment where they may end up alone.
They’re still on the same line, and thankfully Bitty keeps it off the ice.
They’re on the same line in the final NCAA championship game, where they can either win or they can prove everyone right, that Bitty being captain isn’t good for the team.
Brown’s got a giant D-man. Cole, #82, is targeting Bitty the whole game, and there’s nothing Helen can do about it except try and keep playing, try and not think about how he’d be targeting her too if he knew.
The moment when Bitty doesn’t get up feels like an eternity, but at the same time it’s a blink of an eye before he’s up and off his feet, slamming upwards into Cole. It’s clearly an illegal hit, and Helen is almost ready to curse at her captain, but sometimes revenge is important.
Bitty is sent to the dressing room for concussion protocol, and Tango goes in the box to serve his penalty.
Helen shares a glance with the members of her team left on the ice. She can tell all of them are worried as hell for Bitty, but they can’t afford to think about it right now.
Helen spares a thought to think at least it’s the last game Bitty will play anyway, but then it’s just the puck and the clock and the players on the ice, and nothing else matters.
She loves being on the ice. There’s nothing better than this when the world narrows down to just the size of the rink, and all she can hear are the sounds of skates and sticks on the ice.
Well, that isn’t quite true. The only thing better than just the joy of playing hockey is the joy of playing good hockey and getting rewarded for it.
It’s a good play, but they get lucky, too. Nursey manages to turn over what’s about to become a three-on-two rush towards the Samwell goal, and sends the puck to Dex a bit higher up the ice. Dex doesn’t hesitate a split second and sends the puck to Helen, who catches Hops’ eye. She takes it up the ice, drawing the Brown defensemen closer, and Hops crosses the blue line just behind her, waiting for the pass. Just as the defensemen get close enough to either steal the puck or check Helen into the boards, she fakes a slapshot. As the goalie leans towards her, she sends the puck neatly sideways to Hops instead, giving him plenty of space to launch the puck into the net.
The horn sounds.
They celebrate, slamming into Hops and yelling happy nonsense. All too soon it’s over, and Helen has to sit on the bench as Brown pulls their goalie and tries to catch up.
They don’t.
Samwell red and white rains through the air and the Samwell bench floods the ice.
“Well, hello there!” Bitty says, all cheerfully like he’s surprised to see Helen. And hell, maybe he is. She’s been carefully avoiding any situation where he might try to talk to her. She’s not worried about what he would say, not after calming down and realising that outing her to anyone probably wouldn’t be good for his public image. So she’s not scared anymore, but she’s happy with her life as it is and doesn’t need Bitty’s concern or pity, or even worse, him trying to fix something that isn’t broken.
She doesn’t actually think she’s been in Bitty’s room since the Taddy Tour. “Hey, Bits. Got your text.” Sure, she isn’t interested in talking about Brad and the party, but she’s not going to ignore a text from her captain just because it might lead to an uncomfortable conversation.
“Whiskey, you should have my room.”
Bitty must be able to see Helen’s surprise, both at the dibs and the fact that he’s not starting with what’s been hanging between them ever since that party.
She barely hangs out with the team, and only ever when Tango and Ford are there for her to sit in a corner with.
“Why me and not ...Dex? Or Ford?”
Dex is about to be captain, and he’s living in a dingy basement, and Ford’s work for the team seems never-ending. Both of them deserve better than what they have, and deserve it more than Helen. Besides, Helen’s parents can afford the dorms perfectly well, but there are team members for whom Haus rent would be a big relief.
“Whiskey, you make this team and you should live in the Haus. I think you’d make the entire team stronger for it.”
Helen doesn’t know what Bitty’s expecting. She’s not going to turn into a social butterfly and the heart of the team just by moving into the Haus. She’s not going to turn into Bitty.
She can’t forget the way Bitty’s been trying to corner her ever since that party. It doesn’t seem like he’s going to bring it up now, but Helen needs to know. She grabs an old puck from atop Bitty’s doorframe to keep her hands busy and says, “We never talked about that party.”
“We don’t have to.”
Helen doesn’t say what she really thinks - that Bitty’s behaviour all year seems to indicate otherwise - but he already knows, so what’s the harm in explaining. Maybe it’ll make him see that Helen isn’t what Bitty seems to think, she doesn’t want to be like him and she really doesn’t want to be the center of the team like Bitty seems to think she is.
“I’m not- I’m still dating my girlfriend. You know that, right?”
Helen isn’t sure if she still loves Sarah like she’s supposed to, but as long as Sarah doesn’t call it off, she’s going to hang onto the safety net of having a girlfriend who her parents love. It’s easier that way.
“I’m a pretty private person. I don’t need to be flashy or - stand out.”
She’s not lying when she says she doesn’t need to stand out, and she really doesn’t think who she is or who she likes is anyone’s business but hers, but maybe that’s something brought on by the way the world views people like her. She decides not to dwell on it for too long, because she can’t change the world, not fast enough that it would still be safe for her to be making those changes. Jack and Bitty are doing everything they can to change the hockey world, but not fast enough to change Helen’s mind.
Helen wonders if coming out to Bitty, really telling him that she’s trans would help him understand, but really she doesn’t need him to. She just says “I can’t be like you,” and hopes that he gets that she doesn’t want to and can’t be the hero and icon he has become.
“You don’t have to be,” Bitty says. Helen hopes she’s imagining his sad face. She knows she doesn’t have to be out, and she really doesn’t need Bitty’s thoughts on it.
Still, she’s not lying when they shake hands on the dibs. “Thanks for everything, Bitty. You had my back this year.”
After the first openly gay NCAA captain graduates, the homophobic comments on the ice don’t stop. If anything, they ramp up more, since without an openly queer person to target, the comments are distributed more evenly towards all of SMH, and the officials seem to have stopped caring even what little they did when Bitty was playing.
Helen tries to not look too hard at who’s grimacing the most in the locker room after nasty games, because she’s scared that she’ll see her own expression reflected back. Still, sometimes it’s nice to hear the rage in Dex’s voice as he tells the team he’s not about to lose to that team, that he won’t let them prove that who he’s dating makes him worse on the ice. Helen nods along; she’s happy to let out her anger by playing her best game, but she knows that she should enjoy this while it lasts, because unless she’s scouted by the Falcs she’s not getting into a locker room that cares as much as SMH does.
Bitty was a great captain and an even better liney, but in a way Helen is very relieved that he has graduated and moved out of the Haus. Dex does his job on the ice more than well, and if he thinks there is something wrong, he tries to fix it, but he also respects that people don’t need him prying into everything they do.
It’s different, living in the Haus instead of the dorms. Dex continues with Bitty’s tradition of team dinners, and Helen gets used to sitting around a table filled with team members every Friday, sharing stories and laughing. Well, she’s mostly happy to just listen, but especially when it’s only the Haus’ inhabitants she’ll join in sometimes.
Most of it is about hockey or something funny that happened in class, but occasionally she’ll reminisce about a family trip or something that happened on an earlier hockey team. It’s nice, getting close to people like this. Helen just got used to calling Tony and Denice her friends, but she’s tentatively approaching something like friendship with the Frogs, too.
As Helen grows closer to her team and more used to being out to Tony and Denice, Brad starts feeling less important. With Tony and Denice knowing, she doesn’t need to blow off steam with him any more.
She has never been in love with Brad, there’s nothing romantic between them, but as her crush on her best friends keeps growing, it just starts feeling less and less appealing to sneak over to the LAX house for some making out, especially when it also exposes her to Brad’s speech patterns, which seem to consist mostly of calling her dude, man, and bro .
For a while, she contemplates just ending it over text, but in the end she sends a message: “Hey, I want to talk. Can I come over?”
Brad leads her up to his room before he says, “So, what’s going on?”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t think we should do this any more.”
He sits heavily onto his bed, clearly confused. “What’s the matter? Are you still freaked out about what happened last year?”
And yeah, she has decided to never do something as stupid as kissing a guy at a party again - too many phones around and too many scouts in the stands - but most of their meetings take place in the privacy of Brad’s room.
Helen thinks back to the warm fuzzy feeling she gets when hanging out with Tony and Denice, a feeling she’s never felt with Brad. “No, I just have a huge crush on someone and, well, I can’t be sure, but I think it might be going somewhere.”
Brad smiles an earnest smile. “Well, good luck with that. I’m happy for you, man. Just let me know if it doesn’t work out.”
Helen smiles. “Yeah, will do. Thanks for everything. Uh, I hope you find someone else.”
Brad nods, and there’s a moment where it looks like he might kiss Helen, but then he shakes his head and says, “Well. It’s been good.”
Helen takes this as her cue to leave. “Yeah, it’s been good. Bye.”
She feels oddly light walking home to the Haus.
Helen’s lying on the floor of the attic reading about central banks, when Tango says from where he’s doing a handstand against the wall, “You know, I never really understood why Ollie and Wicks didn’t just give dibs to all three of us.” He kicks off from the wall and stands up, gesturing around the room. “I mean, there’s plenty of space for you here, Helen.”
Ford nods from her desk, the curtain that splits the room pulled open like it usually is when they’re all hanging out. “Yeah, you’re right. We could have gotten bunk beds or something. I’m really happy Bitty gave you his dibs or else it’d be a lot harder for us all to hang out so much.”
Helen smiles. “I really like hanging out with you, too. But I think that half of the team is convinced the two of you are dating, so they’d be pretty confused if we all lived here.”
Helen barely needs to be looking at Tony to see his confusion. Denice looks much less confused, but she isn’t exactly agreeing with Helen either.
“Seriously? You didn’t know? I mean, you two do make a nice pair, and all the previous inhabitants of the attic have been dating each other. I’m pretty sure that’s why Ollie and Wicks gave their dibs to you two.”
Denice laughs. “Really? I’ve had at least three people ask me how I knew I was a lesbian. So I don’t think the team has any clue of my crushes.”
“Crushes? Plural?” Helen says. It’s not quite a question, and more an expression of curiosity and confusion.
Helen cranes her neck up as she hears Denice stand up and walk over to her. She sits cross-legged on the floor next to Helen, and gestures for Tony to join her. “Plural,” she says with a smile.
As Tony comes to sit next to the two of them, Helen scrambles up into a sitting position. Tony doesn’t look surprised, but there’s a nervous expression on his face, almost like when someone tells him off for supposedly talking too much.
“I’ve been told I’m better at getting information across concisely, but I’m sharing both mine and Tango’s opinions when I say this, Helen.” Denice takes a deep breath, then takes Helen’s hand into hers. Helen doesn’t know what she would do if she saw Denice’s face now, so she just looks at their hands. She doesn’t miss the way Tony takes Denice’s other hand, though.
“I wouldn’t mind the team thinking I’m dating Tony, but we talked about it and we don’t want to do it without you. I know you don’t want to come out to the team and that’s okay, but I mean it when I say I have a crush on both of you.”
Helen looks up at her then, sees the nervous smile and says, “I- yes.” She grabs Tony’s hand then, and the three of them are sitting on the floor in a circle, all holding hands like some kindergarten friends, but it feels like everything she’s ever wanted.
There’s an air of trepidation, and as much as Helen wants to lean in and kiss Denice and Tony, there’s something she needs to do before getting into an actual romantic relationship.
“I need to call my girlfriend.”
Tony and Denice both try not to react, but she can feel their hands tensing up as the words leave her mouth. “We- She said it was okay if we found other people, I just need to tell her.”
Helen stands up. “I’m sorry. I’ll be back soon.”
In her own room, she has to take a moment, laying on her back on the floor to process exactly what has happened. Then she pulls her phone out of her pocket and gets up to sit on the edge of her bed.
Sarah’s number is in her favorites, but her call history is all Tony and Denice. She desperately hopes that Sarah will forgive her for how long she’s been keeping up their masquerade of a relationship, because she genuinely doesn’t want to lose her as a friend.
“Hi, babe. What’s up?”
“Sarah. Hi.” Helen runs a hand through her hair. It’s getting longer than she usually lets it, she idly notes, and the thought doesn’t bother her as much as it might have a few years ago.
“How are you doing?” Sarah says, and Helen just can’t do this.
“Sarah, I’m sorry.”
The line stays quiet. Helen can hear Sarah’s breathing on the other end, waiting for her to explain.
“I know we said it would be okay and just to call if things changed, but I know this is still a shitty thing to do-”
Sarah interrupts, and she doesn’t sound angry or even sad. “Well. What’s her name, then?”
The assumption stings a bit, but it’s a relief that Sarah doesn’t seem to even think twice about the pronoun.
“Uh, it’s Denice. She’s our team manager.”
“Well, I’m happy for you and Denice. And I have to admit, I would have called you soon anyway. I found someone, too. Sam.”
“Sam? That’s nice. I hope that’ll turn out good. I’m happy for you.”
“Yeah. Thanks,” Sarah says.
They’ve said all that needs to be said, but Helen hesitates, doesn’t want to hang up yet. “Hey, do you think it’d be weird to still be friends?” she asks, because they were childhood friends first and dating second.
“No, I’d like that,” Sarah says. “I’ll see you over the summer, yeah?”
Helen smiles. “Yeah, that would be nice. Besides, I think we’d have to have a really awful breakup to make our parents stop being friends.” Frankly, it’s not even true to say they were friends first, more that their parents were friends even before the two of them were old enough to have any thoughts on the matter.
Sarah laughs. Helen can’t remember the last time she’s heard it, and she hopes the agreement of being friends won’t fizzle away like their relationship did.
“Are you bringing Sam home this summer, then?” Helen says, because she wants to know Sarah is happy. It might have been a while since she’s really loved Helen the right way, but she still cares about Sarah in a way that is difficult to put into words.
Sarah goes quiet. “Don’t tell our parents, ok? I can’t bring-” Helen can hear her breathing on the other side of the phone. “-I can’t bring her the way I’d want to, but maybe.
Oh. Helen almost laughs. “Really? That’s amazing. I hope you have fun with her.” She hesitates, but it just seems fair given how worried Sarah was, and she’s still feeling giddy from the events of the attic. “So, it being Denice wasn’t the whole truth. I’m- I’m also dating Tony. He’s one of my teammates.” Dating is probably a big word for a relationship that barely got started before Helen ran out, but she’s too happy and relieved to think of anything better.
“That’s great! I’m really happy for you, Connor.”
They chat a bit about school and their respective dating lives, but then Sarah excuses herself to go to a study group.
Helen slumps onto her bed. It’s weird that she really liked telling Sarah about Denice and Tony, but the idea of telling Sarah she’s trans has zero appeal.
It’s not that she doesn’t trust Sarah, it just doesn’t feel important that she knows. Helen knows who she is, and that’s all she really needs. But this starting relationship? It’s about more than just Helen. She can’t quite believe it’s happening, and she needs someone else to hear, or she might just think she’s imagining all of it.
Helen goes upstairs and smiles at Tony and Denice, who are eyeing her carefully. “She’s got a girlfriend, so I think we’re about even.”
Tony and Denice come over to hug her, and Helen holds them both tight.
It takes a bit of adjustment to fall into the routine of dating, but mostly it’s the same as their friendship, except they’ll hold hands in a dark movie theater, or after getting froyo they’ll come back to the Haus and make out on someone’s bed, taking pauses whenever someone accidentally falls off.
Denice has permission to let Nursey and Dex room together on roadies despite them dating, so she continues to put Tony and Helen in the same room. The only difference is that when she sneaks in to watch TV there’s more than conversation to distract all three of them.
At the banquet, they give her a plaque. She looks at it for a moment, taking in the weight of a captain’s role. She didn’t want to assume she was getting the captaincy; she doesn’t really mingle with the team outside of compulsory events, but Tony and Denice encouraged her to at least think a bit about what she could say.
“Thank you, everyone. It’s an honor and I will do everything I can to help this team and to be the best captain I can be, for all of you.”
She thanks Dex for his work, saying that he’s leaving big boots to fill, then promises to be there for her team both on and off the ice.
The hockey part should be easy, but it’s the off-ice part of captaincy that makes it difficult to believe these people trusted her with the plaque in her hands and all that it represents.
It’s a short speech and she’s sure everyone can tell she wasn’t expecting this, but as she sits back in her seat and looks around, she has a good feeling about the year to come. She brushes her hair behind her ear, still not quite used to the feeling of long hair but loving it all the same, and nods in all the right places as Tony explains his latest obsession.
There’s a feeling growing in her chest, and Helen idly pokes at it as she listens to the others talk. She’s happy that the team seems to like and value her enough to vote for her, and she is proud of herself for becoming that important to the team. All the same, the biggest feeling is the weight of responsibility and a confidence and surety that she can do it. She won’t be the same kind of captain Ransom and Holster, Bitty or Dex were - she doesn’t have even an ounce of their baking or cooking skills - but when she looks at Tony and Denice, and her younger teammates, too, she has a feeling it’s going to be a good year.
After the banquet they head back to the Haus. There’s no need to say anything as Helen follows Tony and Denice up the stairs.
She closes the door behind herself. “Tango, I need to ask the coaches first, but I’d love to have you as my alternate next year.”
Denice throws Tony’s jacket in her face. “Whisk. No hockey talk in my bedroom.”
Helen smiles. “Your bedroom? I think you may be forgetting someone.”
“Are you aware I’m standing right here?” Tony asks. “And also yes, Helen! I’d love to!”
Helen grins at the prospect of having her boyfriend by her side as captain, but focusing on the current situation, she raises her hands in defeat. “All right, no hockey talk and no forgetting Tony.” She shrugs off her own jacket and places it on the back of a chair before making her way over to her partners for a proper celebration.
A few weeks into the new season, Helen starts getting concerned about one of the new freshmen.
James Richards, quickly nicknamed Ricky, is a great player. He’s playing second line, but only because Helen herself is on the first line. He apparently grew up in Pittsburgh and has played hockey since he was four, but no one’s ever seen pictures or tape. After his first practice, Helen actually asks the coaches about him, curious to see the tape he got in with, but Hall and Murray’s response is vague and boils down to “Sorry, but no.”
He focuses on the drills on the ice, but is more than happy to chirp everyone and have a fun chat, the same at team breakfast or informal hangouts at the Haus.
The only time this isn’t the case is in the locker room. While most of the team just wants to get out of their sweaty gear and into the shower as soon as possible, Ricky lingers, taking his time unlacing his skates and taking off his pads.
The first roadie of the year takes them to play Harvard. They barely manage to eke out a 2-1 win, only thanks to some excellent work from their new goalie. Harvard is playing - and checking - like in a playoff game, so despite the win everyone is exhausted and just wants to get to bed.
Denice is handing out keys in the hotel lobby while Helen’s chatting with Bully about what drills would be best for their d-men. They get interrupted by Hops coming to drop a kiss on Bully’s cheek. “You’re with Louis tonight, babe.” Bully smiles fondly at him and says, “Good night, then. See you tomorrow.”
Helen is fairly sure all three of them are dating, but hasn’t really asked. But then again, neither have any of them asked about how often she comes down the attic stairs in the mornings. She honestly isn’t sure who got whose dibs but regardless the upper floor of the Haus is now occupied by the three Waffles as well as herself, Tony, and Denice living in the attic. Dex’s bungalow is still there, but mostly used as a nap place for anyone not living in the Haus.
Helen’s used to sharing a room with Tony on roadies, but this time as he comes with a key card in hand, it’s with a freshman in tow.
“Hey, Whiskey. First roadie, so I guess they want the older ones keeping an eye on the freshmen. Foxtrot wanted to talk to you,” he says, and gestures towards Denice, who’s still handing out cards.
Helen lets the mass of hockey players recede before approaching Denice. There’s still a few guys loitering around, but they look to have already gotten their cards. Next to Denice stands their second line center, Ricky. He looks nervous and uncomfortable the same way he does when the locker room gets particularly rowdy and naked.
Denice waves a hand in greeting, but before Helen can respond she turns to Ricky. “Do you want to go somewhere more private for this?” He nods. “Okay, let’s go up to the room, then.”
Confused, Helen follows a determined Denice side by side with Ricky, who’s shooting nervous glances at her
“So. Um. I didn’t want to tell the team because it’s not relevant to them, but obviously with roadies it might be a little bit tricky, and well, the locker room is a bit difficult,” he starts rambling as soon as the door closes.
“Hey,” Helen says, because this isn’t going anywhere and the kid’s just going to give himself a panic attack like this. “Whatever it is, I promise it’s okay, and you don’t need to tell the team anything you don’t want to. But they’re good people, and if anyone gives you trouble you’ve got me, Denice, the coaches, and a lot of our teammates behind you.”
Ricky’s still looking pale and nervous, but Helen’s interruption seems to have snapped him out of whatever spiral he was in. “Right. Yeah. Well, I had to let the coaches know, and to make arrangements, Denice is in the loop too, but what I wanted to say is that I’m trans.”
Oh. So that’s why Denice has been giving her a meaningful look for the entirety of this encounter. Helen’s mind is whirring with thoughts, and she has to concentrate to get out, “Yeah? That’s okay, Ricky. You’re a great player and an important part of the team, that’s all that matters. So what about roadies is giving you trouble?”
Ricky seems to relax, then explains, “I got top surgery last year and the scars are pretty noticeable. No one’s mentioned them in the locker room or to me privately, so I think I’ve managed to keep them hidden pretty well. But I need to take my testosterone today and I really don’t want someone walking in on me sticking a needle in my thigh.”
Helen grimaces. “I can imagine that being a tricky situation.”
Ricky seems content with that, but there’s a little nagging voice in Helen’s head. It says, “Wouldn’t it be nice? And it would make him feel less alone.” She decides to follow it.
Helen spares a glance to Denice who has been loitering by the door, clearly wondering whether she should leave, and blows out a deep breath. “I’m trans too. My name’s Helen.”
Ricky sits on one of the beds in the room. “Thanks for telling me. It’s nice to know I’m not alone. Can I ask why you don’t want others to know? Is the team- Should I be worried?”
Helen shakes her head immediately. “No. It’s not about the team, they’re good. But if you hear anything or anyone gives you trouble, come talk to me, I’ll take care of it.”
Denice adds on: “Me and the coaches, too. We don’t tolerate any kind of bigotry or bullying on the team.”
Ricky nods. “Sorry, I didn’t want to imply that you had to come out. I’m just pretty nervous about this. But thank you.”
Helen nods, too. “Right. Yeah. We’ve got your back.”
Ricky glances between Helen and Denice, and excuses himself to the bathroom, and Denice comes over to give Helen a hug. “Hey. That was really brave of you. How are you feeling?”
Helen takes a moment to consider. “I feel really good. Thanks for arranging this,” she says and kisses Denice.
It’s only later, while she’s shaving her legs in the shower and can hear Ricky puttering around in the room, that it really hits her what she’s done. She came out. It’s not the first time she’s done it, but it feels different. Coming out to Tony and Denice had been in a fit of panic, but telling Ricky was just a choice she made completely out of her free will. She doesn’t want to tell too many people, doesn’t really feel a need for everyone to know, but she concludes that maybe coming out isn’t always a bad thing.
She’s yelled her throat hoarse cheering for Denice and Tony, and walked across the stage to accept her diploma with shaking hands. Still, she’s smiling widely as she steps off the stage.
This is it. The four years that everyone says will be the best years of your life. As Helen finds Tony and Denice in the crowd, she can’t help but agree. She has a diploma in her hands she’ll hopefully never need, and now it’s time to leave the happy haven of a liberal New England college and become a real adult, or as much of a real adult as someone who gets paid to play hockey all day can be.
Helen decides to ignore it for just a moment longer. She’s looking around campus one last time when her parents find her. “Connor! We’re so proud of you!” her mother says. She hugs her, then moves on to Tony and Denice, leaving Helen and her father. He claps her on the shoulder. “Good job, son.” She nods at him. She’s done all they asked for: Get a degree before playing professionally. It’s strange, now. She hasn’t really felt like Arizona is home for these four years; going back for the summer has been just a period of waiting before returning to her real home. But now there will be no more long summers spent texting and calling Denice and Tony, going for morning jogs in the Arizona heat, and dying a little on the inside every time her parents open their mouths.
It also means there will be no more of Samwell, either. No more grassy quads and the big windows at Faber, no hurrying to class or eating in the dining hall. No more Haus dinners or discussions with Hall and Murray. Those she will miss, but she’s had a good four years and it’s now time to move on.
Helen tells herself it’s just nerves when she first pulls on an Aeros jersey with “Whisk” embroidered on the back. She knows she’s resigning herself to hopefully years more of suits that seem to always fit badly, to ties that choke her the same way her new teammates calling her bro and man seem to.
She buys a house in Houston, and ignores the questions of why on earth she and her girlfriend have their college friend living in their basement, isn’t she concerned what they’ll get up to when she’s away on roadies? She just says, “No, I trust Tony and Denice,” and doesn’t mention that whenever she calls home from hotel rooms it's to both of them saying the bed feels too empty without her.
Helen Whisk keeps two separate closets. When she’s home, she wears dresses and flowery tops, skirts and sometimes family jewellery her mother gave her, saying they were for her future daughters, or maybe for Denice. Her athletic wear doesn’t really bother her, because it’s just the most convenient thing to wear while working out, and athletic wear isn’t even that gendered most of the time. As much as she can objectively acknowledge she looks good in the game day suits, and that the NHL wealth really shows in the expertly tailored, high quality fabrics, none of that stops the discomfort Helen feels in them.
The second closet is near the front door, because this isn’t clothing Helen wants to wear at home. The team is never invited, because they don’t need to know about the exact inner workings of the Ford-Tangredi-Whisk household, do they?
The second closet keeps clothing just like what Helen wore at Samwell. She puts on polo shirts, starts calling her hair
flow
and, like putting on sunscreen to beat the Arizona sun in her childhood, she slips back into being Connor Whisk. On the inside she’s always Helen, but for now it’s simpler and less painful to just accept that, at least until retirement, she will be Connor Whisk if there are other people around. Still, it’s better than before, now that there are two who aren’t included in
other people.
Before leaving for a roadie, Helen Whisk kisses her girlfriend and boyfriend goodbye. Then, Connor Whisk goes out and does his job.
It’s not all hiding, though. Helen would call at least most of the people on the team her friends. They play video games on roadies and go to bars, talk about not much of anything. There’s a couple others who went to college and they share stories of parties and frat houses and what it’s like knowing every year that the oldest players will be graduating and knowing many of them will never play a game of serious hockey ever again.
It’s not all hiding, and it’s not all insignificant things. Helen brings Tony to team events sometimes, confidence brought on by the fact that most of the time she brings Denice.
“Yeah, my girlfriend was busy with work so Tony tagged along, I hope that’s okay.”
Tony smiles and introduces himself as Helen’s college teammate. Helen elbows him and says, “He’s neglecting to mention the fact that he lives in our basement because being a teacher doesn’t pay too well.”
It’s best to keep as few secrets as possible, to hide everything in plain sight. Tony and Denice call her Whiskey in public. It’s easy to remind everyone that yes, her girlfriend was the team manager and yes, their names and nicknames spell out W-T-F. Helen finds herself calling Denice and Tony Foxtrot and Tango more often in public, to explain why they call her Whiskey and to pretend her fondness for Tony is just college nostalgia or some kind of bro bond instead of love.
No one asks about it, but they all seem to like Tony. Their PR manager sidles up to Helen, asking if he should be keeping him out of photos. Helen doesn’t flinch, doesn’t lie or get defensive and ask what he means. She just says no, it’s public knowledge that they’re close friends. He nods and politely pretends not to notice Helen’s grateful look when he doesn’t push the issue. She wonders if everyone gets the talk, that they can tell the team anything and there won’t be any problems, or if maybe they’ve all figured at least a part of it out. It doesn’t bother her as much as it maybe should, as much as it would have bothered her back in college.
But still, she’s told the PR manager all that he needs to know, that Tony is a close friend and a roommate. It’s not a lie. Just like with Denice, they were all best friends first and foremost and still are, and Helen does indeed share a room with Tony.
A few minutes later Helen notices the PR manager talking with Tony and drifts close enough to hear they’re plotting an event to bring some Aeros to the school Tony teaches at. Tony is really excited about it, and Helen lets herself smile at that before going to chat with their goalie and his girlfriend about their new puppy.
The Aeros win the Cup in Helen’s fifth year on the team. She’s twenty-seven, and she’s achieved everything she’s ever wanted in life.
There’s an A on her chest and she has two broken fingers, but none of that matters when she gets passed the cup. It’s heavier than she expected, and just for a moment she feels like Atlas, holding up the sky, because this is everything . She’s been dreaming of this feeling for over twenty years.
She takes a lap, probably grinning like a fool and unable to even believe that this is happening, then passes the cup along.
They take pictures. The cameras flash and it all feels unreal, like something that can’t really be happening to her.
As the families and friends come onto the ice, Helen hurries to find her loves. She kisses Ford, then sweeps Tony into a tight hug. Frankly, in the hubbub of the celebration she could probably kiss him and explain it away as bro-ship, just a bit of celebratory fun if anyone noticed. But Helen won’t, she just hugs him tight and whispers “I love you.” As she lets go she repeats it to Ford, who puts her arm around Tony’s shoulders and says “I love you too.”
It’s everything she’s ever wanted in life. She has achieved the greatest thing you can in hockey, and she has two people by her side who love her more than anything, exactly as she is.
It’s everything she’s ever wanted, but tucked at the back of her mind, a new dream pokes up its head. A dream of her life after hockey. She hopes it won’t be for a long time, but she can’t say she’s dreading retirement the same way most of her teammates are.