Page 13 of Rewind It Back

Pulling my feet out of my rollerblades, I unfasten my elbow and knee pads. I grab my hockey stick and gather my pucks in a pile in the middle of my driveway. The net is centered in front of our garage where I always practice. The garage door is peppered with plenty of dings and dents from my missed shots, but I’m getting a little better at making them in the net.

With my socks on, I shoot, but it goes wide, bouncing off the hanging light on the front of the house.

Thankfully, it doesn’t break. My mom would be pissed. She’s already upset that the garage door got dented, but she also didn’t tell me tostoppracticing either.

I wish I had a friend on my street who I could play defense against, or they could play goalie while I shoot, but there are no other kids around here.

Everyone on our block has lived here forever. That’s just how it works in this part of Boston. Our house is the same house my nonna grew up in. She raised my mom here, and now I live here. I’ve had the same neighbors my whole life. Some have kids in high school and others are having babies now, but no one is my age.

Last night at dinner I asked my parents if our new neighbors had kids, and my mom said she wasn’t ready to think about someone moving into Cecilia’s house yet, so the conversation ended there.

Cecilia was my nonna’s best friend and had always lived in the house right next to mine, but she died a couple of months ago and her family didn’t want to live there, so they sold it.

I didn’t bring it up again at dinner, but when I went to bed last night, I prayed that my new neighbors would have a kid my age.

I work on the stickhandling drill we learned at practice this week, moving the puck back and forth along my driveway before shooting it at the net.

I miss again, and when I turn back for a new puck, I watch a car pull into Cecilia’s driveway and park in front of the house.

It’s a normal car like my dad has, but this one is dark green and looks new.

Standing in my driveway, I watch as a lady gets out and looks up at the redbrick exterior of the house attached to mine before rounding the trunk to lift out a small moving box, carrying it into the house Cecilia used to live in. The lady has dark hair and looks around my mom’s age.

A man gets out next and carries in a bigger box behind her. Then the back door of the car opens and a blond boy steps out. He’s holding a lacrosse stick and he’s my same height.

He looks up at his new house before noticing me standing next door.

I wave. “Hey.”

He waves back. “Hey. Do you live here?”

“Yeah.”

He walks in my direction, gesturing to Cecilia’s house. “I’m moving in there.”

“That’s cool. I’m Rio.”

“I’m Luke.” His eyes are trained on my hockey stick. “You play hockey?”

“Yeah, but I’m not very good.”

He holds up his lacrosse stick. “I play lacrosse, and I’m really good.”

“That’s cool. How old are you?”

“Twelve.”

“Me too.”

He smiles. “Cool.”

My attention returns to the car to watch a girl climb out of the back seat too. She’s shorter than me and Luke but her hair is dark brown and wavy like mine. She’s wearing jeans that flare out at the bottom and a pink sweatshirt with a big yellow smiley face on the front.

She doesn’t look over in our direction. Instead, her eyes are locked on her new house. She’s got headphones over her ears and a cassette player in her hand.

“That’s my sister,” Luke says. “You don’t have to be friends with her since she’s a girl.”

“I have a lot of friends who are girls. And they’re all really smart and funny. I take a dance class and there are only girls there.”

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