Finding Hope Read Online Free Page A

Mom standing and clapping for me, hugging Hope. My team skated over to slap my helmet, but nothing felt as good as seeing Mom bursting with pride in the bleachers.
    The last time we played in Wolf Creek, I scored the game winner, in overtime. Instead of looking at Mom, I’d turned to the bench. Coach Williams gave a fist punch in the air and slapped his clipboard. Then he pointed at me. A silent, triumphant signal, like, “I knew you could do it.” The team unloaded off the bench and clobbered me, overjoyed at the win. When we got to the dressing room, Coach took a minute to single me out. Making sure I knew how much the team relied on me. What a special player I was.
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Hope
    T he rough wool skirt scratched against my legs. I yanked my navy socks up so they skimmed my knees and took a deep breath. The Ravenhurst uniform required a navy V-neck sweater and black shoes. I’d been living in tank tops and denim cut-offs all summer. The heavy fabric felt alien against my skin.
    I pulled my hair up into a ponytail and surveyed the final result. My eyes, the same icy blue as Mom’s, stared back at me. I was almost pretty, but nothing matched up. Eyes that were too big, a nose that had a bump in the middle, and lips that sat small and puckered, too far from my chin. I was awkward-looking.
    Not like Eric. He was good-looking, or had been. With light green eyes and a confident strut, he used to walk around town like he owned it. His hair was blond, like his dad’s. He’d let it grow when he played hockey, so it stuck out of his hockey helmet and flew behind him when he skated. Now it hung limp and unwashed.
    In Lumsville, I was the outsider, the one who didn’t know the right thing to say or wear, who laughed at jokes too late and then stopped laughing altogether. What was the point? Every year, I hoped that a new family would move into town. With a daughter my age. We’d have an instantaneous connection and become inseparable.
    That never happened. But Ravenhurst had. Maybe my mythical friend was waiting for me in the dorms.
    â€œPlease let them like me,” I whispered, squeezing my hands into fists in a silent prayer.
    The door opened and Cassie, my roommate, tore into the room. She was fresh from the shower and her robe hung off one shoulder. “Shit!” she wailed, frantic. “I’m late!”
    We’d barely said hello yesterday. She’d tiptoed in just before“lights out” and had whispered a greeting in the dark. Her parents had taken her out for dinner. From a small town five hours east of the city, she spoke quickly and laughed loudly.
    â€œCan you pass me those socks?” she asked from her bed, where she sat rubbing lotion onto her legs. “Thanks!” she said with a relieved grin and yanked them on. They stuck to her legs like sausage casings. I caught a flash of dimpled, cherub thighs as she wriggled into them.
    â€œOh,” she cried, pulling back her blanket. “Seen my sweater?”
    Even though I wanted to get to the dining hall and find a place to sit before it got crowded, I helped her search. “Is this it?” I asked, pulling a sleeve out from under a pile of books on her desk chair. The rest of the sweater followed.
    â€œThanks!” she said and took it from me. Her hair had left splotches of wetness on her robe. “So, where are you from?”
    â€œLumsville. It’s small, you probably don’t know it. Three hours west of the city.”
    â€œYou’ve probably never heard of Waterton, either. Dad got posted there for work and it’s in the boondocks, hours from anywhere. Small towns.” She shrugged, as if they were a lost cause. “What’s Lumsville like?”
    I gave her a wry smile. “About the same as Waterton, probably.”
    â€œI started at Ravenhurst last year,” she said, vigorously towel drying her hair. “My brother’s at Melton Prep. That’s, like, the