Disclaimer- I don't own any Ducks, (well I do own a rubber ducky) that's Disney's. I do own Rae though, so no stealing.

Wounded Duck

By SalyaSky

Chapter 1-Moving Day

            I've always liked new experiences; they're usually full of adventure and excitement. But I could do without this new experience; I don't see what could be so exciting about it, okay so that's a lie. It will be exciting to be on a top ranked hockey team but that's about it. And to get that new and exciting thing I had to leave home and all my friends, ones I had just made, to come half way across the country. Why couldn't they have sent me to a prep school within our state? Why do I even bother to ask that question when I know the answer. They think my friends are a bad influence on me, what a bunch of bull. Ah, why do I keep torturing myself with these musings when I know they'll solve nothing? Time to turn my thoughts to the future not the past, never the past.

The taxi has stopped, must be my new home. Yay. I climb out to view my new surroundings. They just scream wealth and snobbery. The buildings are large, blockish and red brick. There are black wrought iron gates. A wall surrounds the campus with black iron spikes on the top, to keep people out or in? The lawn is neatly trimmed and so are bushes and trees. The local populous, the students, seemed just as neatly trimmed with there designer preppy clothes. I wonder if they bath in their money like Scrooge McDuck.

I turn back to the cab driver who has taken out my luggage while I was perusing the scene. I hand him the money for the ride and he takes off to find another fare. How lucky, he gets to leave. I look at my luggage, one overly large duffel bag, one stuffed to the max hockey bag (not just hockey equipment in it), one fairly large cardboard box, a couple of hockey sticks, and my crammed back pack. It's hard to pack all your belongings when your mode of transportation is a plane. I heave my shoulders in a sigh. Time to get moving. I put my backpack on, sling the duffel bag crosswise over my shoulder, heft the hockey bag onto the other shoulder, pick up my hockey sticks, and then heave the box up. Now all I have to do is carry this stuff all the way to my dorm. First I have to find my dorm. Well, this should be a lovely hike. At least the scenery is nice, if you ignore the people.

Thankfully all the buildings have their names on them in big bold letters. I'm looking for West, it's an all girls' dorm, shudder, I can't stand girls (all right, most girls), too bad I'm one of them. Here's West at the far end of campus, I bet they did that on purpose, people with numb arms can't get into too much trouble on the first day. Now how to negotiate through the doors? I could always drop the box, open the door, slide the box through, and pick it back up on the other side. Yep, that sounds best.

"Hey, need any help." I turn to face the voice. Two boys stand there, one who's tall and lanky with a cowboy hat on his head and one who's on the chubby side (understatement of the year). I smile big and broad.

"Thank God. I would love the help. Keeping my arms attached to my body is a priority I have," I say to them.

They smile and move to grab something from me. "By the way, my name's Goldberg," says the chubby one, "and this is Dwayne."

"I'm Rae."

Goldberg takes the box and promptly stumbles forward almost dropping it. "Holy, what's in this thing?" he exclaims as he pulls himself together and hefts the box in a better grip, strain evident on his face. I hide a smile.

"It's got my stereo and a few other things."

Dwayne takes my hockey bag, and does the same thing as Goldberg did with the box. "What are you, a goalie?" he says in a Texan accent.

"No, I have more in there than hockey equipment, I couldn't fit everything in my duffel or box."

They both nod. "Ah, can we hurry this up a bit, this thing is heavy," Goldberg says. I laugh.

"Sure no problem." I open the door for them.

We make our way up to the third floor with only the occasional stop for them to shift their luggage. I try not to smile to widely, they were just trying to be nice, and you can't make fun of them for that. We finally make it to my dorm and the boys give a relieved sigh. I smirk at them before going in. The room's not that remarkable, two beds, two desks, two bureaus, tow closets, large window, off-white walls, and a skinny blonde. That must be my roommate, oh joy. She turns to us as we enter the room. The wide, cheerleading smile slightly falters as she takes in my appearance. I guess she wasn't expecting a broad shouldered girl wearing baggy cargo pants and t-shirt, with an eyebrow ring and blue-tipped short black hair. Not to mention the scar that ran across my cheek and into my hair, turning that hair over it white, that some said lent me an air of danger.

I smile back, taking in the miniature tight clothes, the multitude of blonde curls and the cute facial features. Gag. Oh, this is going to be fun, All-American cheerleader meets All-American tomboy. I almost laugh outright.

The guys behind me clear their throats to get my attention. I turn back to them.

"Oh, sorry guys. You can just throw the stuff on my side of the room." They do, and then rub their arms and shoulders in ecstasy.

"Hey, Rae, when you go to lunch find us and we can eat together, bring your roommate if you want," Goldberg said just before they leave.

My roommate speaks up. "Hi, my name's Stephanie."


"Ah, Rae. What an interesting name." She glanced at my things.

"So you play hockey?"


"I'm a cheerleader myself." No kidding. "Well, I say we get to unpacking so we can make lunch. What do you think?"

"Sure. I think that's a great idea."

We turn to our own things and start unpacking. The first thing she pulls out is a fluffy pink bedspread. I groan inwardly. This is going to be one hell of a long year.

A/N-Hope you find this somewhat interesting. Reviews highly welcomed.