Quebec City Curlers: Chapter 4 - Frøya Solberg

Fourth of a six part series on the Quebec City Citadelles curling team.  

Anna Skovgaard runs a free weekly youth hockey class every saturday. It's a hit with children and the community at-large, but soon everything takes a turn when a bunch of delinquet curlers take over the ice and threaten to put her weekly events to an end. The young center is forced to rely on her teammates and an unlikely veteran to help save the day through a winner takes all curling battle. 

Chapter 1 - Anna Skovgaard
Chapter 2 - Mat Smith
Chapter 3 - Song Ju-gong

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Something about this game was frustrating, really frustrating.
 
In hockey you simply made a shot, sometimes good ones, sometimes not. You could send a bullet just under the bar and a goalie might still react and catch it - the result was never certain, but sometimes you’d get it. It didn’t need to be perfect each time. Curling was not that way. In curling there was almost always a winning shot, but hitting it exactly was the hardest part. Despite the sometimes seemingly impossible odds of having to hit the perfect shot, the fact that it was possible remained. Just toss the perfect shot and win, it was 100% - no variance. At least, that’s how Frøya Solberg saw it at that moment.
 
CLINK.
 
“Ah, so close.”
 
Another miss. Another point for the other team. Another failure.
 
Their three point lead had long since evaporated, and now entering the final frame, her team was down 5-6. It could be 6-5 right now, but well, she didn’t hit that perfect shot.
 
Wrapping her fist in frustration, Frøya turned back to Anna and Mat as Song came sliding down the ice to join the team. “Sorry everyone, just a little bit more curl an-“
 
“Don’t mention it, we’ll just beat them here at the end. Give them false hope and all of that.” Anna was the first to interrupt, clearly trying to keep Frøya from getting too down on herself. Losing had been something of a team effort to this point. Two-Fists had been knocking down any of Song’s set ups with brute force. Hon was a bit more consistent than Mat, Dark Wizard a bit more accurate than Anna. Frøya well, she had been put in hard spots by that point, and converted less points than Waldo by some clear margin.
 
“Are you all ready for the final beat down?” Waldo came sliding down the ice as well, joining his team next to the hack.
 
“You mean your-“ Frøya tried to reply in frustration.
 
“We need a quick timeout, about five minutes.” Mat interjected.
 
The three young Citadelles players looked at Mat in a bit of confusion. And not just because they all assumed there were no time outs. But for wondering what on earth they’d need so much time for. Instead of getting any answer, they all took witness to the legendary goalie pulling out his cell phone, and pawing away at the screen.
 
“Is now really the best time to uh, text?” Ju-gong was more confused as the rest, figuring Mat had some sort of plan behind his timeout.
 
“Sure thing losers!” Waldo had progressively been getting more and more smug as they had closed in on the lead. Now that they were back in front? He may as well have been some King on his throne. “Think up your last words while you’re at it!” Rather predictably, his followers all chuckled in a mocking reply.
 
“It’s fine guys, lets clear our minds a bit,” Frøya began to slide her way over to the wall of the rink, unconcerned with Mat or his texting. Anna and Ju-gong looked at each other a bit worried but shrugged it off and followed.
 
Arriving at the rink-board, she almost reached out to kick it in frustration. She had done so a few times before, but only in the heat of the moment. Home losses, missed shots on the power play, several key playoff losses. All of those high-pressure moments that ended in failure, and somehow this didn’t feel far off. Everyone relied on her to execute, to score, to be the ace in the hole. Pressure is a privilege, right? It sure didn’t feel that way. For every electric moment being serenaded by the home fans and goal horn, there were just as many that felt as eerie and dead as a graveyard, as if it were her hands that decided life and death, joy or depression, winning and losing. They were well on course to losing, and she knew that whether she liked it or not, the result would come from her hands alone.
 
She kicked the board, albeit gently.
 
“Don’t sweat it Froyo, none of us would’ve hit that shot either. I’m not even sure a pro could’ve.” Anna soothed her teammate by playfully smacking at the back of her head.
 
“I know… but that's the thing, a pro could’ve hit it.”
 
“And we’re not pros, so stop worrying so much. Go miss that shot in the Olympics and then you can hang your head okay?”
 
Frøya smiled as best she could. Her teammates were always rooting for her, always pulling for her, and yet that rarely mattered much. It only made her want to reward their faith even more, but that was simply more pressure. So much pressure. Playoffs were coming soon, would she handle it better this time? Of course she would.
 
“Oh I know that look, are you seriously moping right now? Don’t tell me you actually lost?!”
 
Her head perked up right away, she knew that voice from anywhere. For 20 years she heard that voice every day.
 
“W-what are you doing here?”
 
She had been so deep in thought, she had failed to realize that her own twin sister was not only inside the Ice Center, but walking over to her with two white plastic bags, one in each hand. On those bags was a large red and yellow logo, the unmistakable branding of “DENNY’S” on each side. Within a moment Sonja arrived up the boards, undid the latch to the door, and waved her teammates over to come join her.
 
“I called in some uh…” Mat paused as he was thinking. “Reinforcements?”
 
Sonja placed the bags on the concrete flooring outside the ice and folded her arms in a clearly hostile manner. “This was supposed to be a victory meal, but if you already lost then I can go feed it to those dogs I saw outside.”
 
“We haven’t lost,” Ju-gong sounded a bit unsure of himself, “Yet…”. For the last 8 ends he had been shot calling to little result. Finding a game tying or winning score was difficult to puzzle out in his mind. They were almost certainly doomed.
 
All four of them shuffled through the open board and made their way off the ice. Sonja and Anna began to unpack the contents of the food from each bag, quickly revealing the contents of not just a GRAND SLAM, but a GRAND SLAM “PACK”, the family sized version of the famous classic meal. Complete with eight buttermilk pancakes, a matching number of scrambled eggs, four crunchy bacon strips alongside four tender sausage links and a container packed with hash browns. It was the ultimate breakfast combination, truly deserving of its title of GRAND SLAM, and for such an affordable price, you were practically losing money by buying anything else.
 
Anna picked up a random extra container, an unaccounted for entity. “What on earth is this?”
 
The group gathered round and looked down on that transparent lid, five pairs of eyes blinking in confusion as they looked at the monstrosity below.
 
Sonja pulled out the receipt and looked it over, her eyes confounded as she read over a hand written note on the small piece of paper. “Please enjoy the extra goodness we added to your order free of charge, signed, Dennys”

Frøya opened her lips slightly, as if speaking a taboo. “Is that… an order of Zesty Nachos?”
 
A silence befell the group as they came to the same realization as her. It was in fact, an order of Zesty Nachos, the pepper jack queso practically identifying it on smell alone. It was an abomination unlike any other, a spicy, gluten-free, nacho dish made by a breakfast restaurant.
 
“Why would they do this to us?”
 
“I think Celly had those once… that time they missed training for three days straight…”
 
“Is this some kind of joke?”
 
“Even in Chicago this was considered bad food…”
 
“Can we get a refund on this? It was free but I’m still not paying for that!”
 
Each of them took a turn expressing their dread over this mistake of a menu item, almost losing their appetite for the good food still ready to be devoured. Anna had enough control inside her to lean over and place the container on the ground, rather than dropping it in disgust.
 
“HEY HEY HEY!” from back on the ice, Two-Fists came sliding over in a rage, having finally noticed what the group of hockey stars was up to. “Having breakfast in the middle of a game while we starve? That’s hardly fair!”
 
Mat turned and smiled, “We’ll just be a minute more, don’t worry, just a quick few bites before we continue. Skipping breakfast for too long is bad for your health.”
 
“Well we don’t have anything, so you all shouldn’t get anything either.”
 
“But we did…” Frøya spoke up, drawing the attention of both teams to her as everyone looked at her. She gulped, unsure if they would actually take the bait, but she at least had to try. Turning around slightly, she bent over to pick up the container that Anna had just put down.
 
‘That will never work, that’s not food’ were what the eyes of her teammates expressed, but yet she carried on with the plan. Holding her arms outstretched, she fearfully held the offering out to the brute of a man, as if he might slap it from her hands at any moment.
 
“This is for you all…”
 
Everything seemed to freeze as Frøya simply had to hold out the order of Zesty Nachos as if they were some prize. Her allies did their best to keep a straight face as well, a few worried smiles breaking out behind her that only made things look even more suspicious. Two-Fists gazed down on that container with intent, his brow furrowing as he seemed to snort and huff as she took stock of the offering.
 
“Are those Nachos?”
 
“Yes.”
 
“For breakfast?”
 
“… Yes.”
 
“They look pretty good.”
 
“They are…” Frøya looked away, avoiding the act of lying directly to someone’s face as best as she could.
 
“Deal.”
 
And with that, Two-Fists scooped up that container, and while still on the ice, carried it back to his team for presumabe consumption.
 
There was an ominous pause as all five of the hockey players watched those Zesty Nachos be delivered directly to the opposing curling team. Everyone seemingly in a state of disbelief that not only did they accept the cursed goods, but perhaps even intended on eating them as well.
 
Sonja was the first to break the silence, “That was kinda toxic I’m not gonna lie.”
 
“L-listen, I just acted without thinking… I didn’t think they’d REALLY take it.”
 
“Uhuh”
 
“I mean it!”
 
“Anyway,” Mat cracked open the container of hashbrowns and carried a spoonful of those sweet golden potatoes into his mouth. “We had better fuel up, if Frøya wants us to win this badly, we had better make sure we do.”
 
The other nodded and began to snack down on their GRAND SLAM breakfast as best as they could, feeling a little sick as they looked over onto the ice, and witnessed their opposition start chowing down on the worst Denny’s item to stain their menu since the T-bone steak.
 
Oh god.

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Part five coming soon!