Hey. I don't own Miracle. Really people, do you think I would be doing this if I did? I just had this idea and I wanted to try it out. Let me know what you think.


I definitely didn't want to move to Minnesota where nothing ever happened. I was born and raised in Boston which I thought was probably the best place on Earth. I loved being in the city. The city was exciting and there was never a dull moment. That's why I loved it so much; I hated dull moments.

But the fact was OC was going to no-where land because he made the Olympic hockey team. I was totally stoked when I found out, but then I realized that for the first time in my life we wouldn't be in walking distance of each other. We even lived in the same apartment at the moment. Jack and I were really close. I was studying art at Boston University and had the option to transfer to go to a college with a better program. At first I didn't even consider it because I knew my brother Jack would be completely lost without me. Even though he's older than me by two years and took care of me since I was sixteen, he needed me. He didn't even know it, but it was true.

One of the colleges with a great art program was the University of Minnesota. So I applied a week after we had found out that OC would have to go to Minnesota. I didn't tell him because I didn't want him to think I was trying to look after him. That's the other thing; Jack couldn't know he would be lost without me. It would hurt his ego. I hadn't gotten any reply but I was sure it would come any day now. I walked home from college to my apartment building thinking it might come today. I didn't know what I would do if I didn't get accepted.

No, I shouldn't get my hopes up. It probably won't be there.

Even so, I stopped by the mail room in the lobby and unlocked the metal box labeled: O'CALLAHAN.

Junk mail, junk mail, phone bill, mysterious white envelope. I flipped it over and read the return address. It was from Minnesota. I had it opened in about two seconds. Scanning the page, I only saw the word happy to inform, accepted and July 1rst.

"Yes!" I shouted so loud I got weird looks from everyone in the lobby. I didn't care, I just ran up five flights of stairs without stopping even though I tripped a bunch of times.

Maybe I had too much coffee this morning.

"OC?" I called as I stepped into our apartment. I dropped my bag on the my brother and I were slobs; stuff was always everywhere.

"In here," Jack replied from his bedroom. I walked across the living room/kitchenarea and into his room. He was laying on his bed in nothing but a pair of whitey tighties.

"I told you about wearing those!" I said as I came into his room. "You won't beable to have babies!" I sat on the window sill of the only window in the room.

"Sorry Jenna. Looks like you won't be able to be an aunt anytime soon." he

replied, using my real name which I hated. Everyone always called me Cal from O'Callahan. I threw a pillow and it hit him square in the head.

"Ow!" he whined.

"That did not hurt!"

"Yes it did! You're strong,"

"Whatever," I sighed and held up the envelope from Minnesota. "Do you know what this is?"

This time it was his turn to sigh."Mail, I guess."

"Not just any mail, dipstick. Mail from Minnesota."

He raised an eyebrow at me."Huh?"

"You know how my art teacher thought I should transfer to a different college because of the sucky program here?"


"Well, Minnesota is like the best place! So I applied and they accepted me!"

"Cal, that's great!"

He held out his hand and I high-fived it. We were so immature.

"So are you gonna live in a dorm or something?"

"Yeah that's what I was thinking. It'll be pretty expensive but when I'm rich and famous I'll be able to pay it off."

He grinned. "Hello, I'm on the Olympic hockey team! I think I'll be the famous one in the family!" he laughed.

"Well, then you can pay it!"

"That backfired. . .Wait a minute—is that all the mail we got?" he asked.

"Oh yeah. . ." I felt around in my jeans pocket even though I knew the rest of the mail wouldn't be in there. "I think I might have dropped it. . ."

OC rolled his eyes. "Classic Cal,"

"Hello?" Dave Silk's voice came from the living room.

"Silky!" I yelled and ran from the room to greet him. He was my best friend.

"'Ello govnah!" he said in a fake British accent.

"How do you do?" I asked, playing along.

OC walked out of his bedroom pulling on some clothes. "Oh great," he muttered sarcastically.

All of our friends thought Silky and I were annoying. We had all these crazy inside jokes and always acted really hyper when we were together. Even though Silky and I were never serious, he was the only other person besides Jack that I really trusted. I didn't trust a lot of people. I know everyone thinks it has something to do with my messed-up childhood. My mom walking out on me, Jack and my father when I was eleven. Their marriage was going to hell and my dad was abusive towards her, me and OC. It only got worse after she left. That's why the day after Jack turned eighteen he packed us up and we moved in with one of his friends. Nothing really changed. I mean, I kept going to the same school and OC went to BU like he was planning to. But Jack could have just left me to fend for myself. It would have been a lot easier without a teenager to take care of. I think he gave up a lot for me, so that's why I just wasn't going to leave him in Minnesota.

"I have super fantastical news!" I exclaimed.

"What? What?" Silky asked, already jumping up and down.

"I got accepted to the University of Minnesota!"

"Yay! We can be best friends forever!"

Silky had made the team, too. At first I had been pretty upset, but I knew that was selfish so I didn't say anything. Now everything was working out, something I definitely wasn't used to.

"Ah!" OC cried, covering his ears. "You're killing my ear drums!"

"Sorry, buddy." Silky said. "Isn't this great?"

OC glared at both of us. "Super,"

I burst out laughing. "We have to celebrate!"

"I don't think so, Cal." OC interrupted, poring himself a bowl of Cheerios. "Every time you walk into a bar you get hammered."

"Who said anything about going to bar?" I asked defensively.

He gave me one of his are-you-freaking-kidding-me looks.

"Alright, fine. But I don't get hammered every time I go to a bar. You're exaggerating." I looked to Silky for support. "Right Davey?"

He glanced at Jack. "Um. . ."

I rolled my eyes. "Wuss,"

"We should do something." OC admitted.

"Why don't we go out to eat?" I suggested.

"Why are you always thinking about food?" OC asked me, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Tisk, tisk." Silky put in. "You two have to pack."

"Come on, I don't have to leave until like a week!" I said.

"When do you go?"

"The first of July, I think."

"That's in two days, Cal." Silky informed me.


"So we can still go out!" OC said with a mouthful of Cheerios.

"Okay! You know I can't stay mad at you guys!" Silky said happily.

That night I went out to my favorite Chinese place with Silky, OC and his best friend Mike Eruzione, aka Rizzo. Plus Jim Craig, another friend of ours from Boston U. He had also made the hockey team, surprise, surprise.

"Have you guys packed yet?" Rizzo asked once our food came.

"Yes," Silky and Jim said at the exact same time OC and I said, "No,"

"Guys, we're leaving in two days."

"Relax!" I said, waving my chopsticks at him. "Did anyone ever tell you need to relax?"

"There's sweet and sour sauce all over you face," he told me flatly. I glared at him as Silky, Jimmy and OC laughed their heads off.

"Shut up!" I snapped. The three of them shut up.

"Anyways, what's the deal with you guys not telling me anything about your other teammates?" I asked, changing the subject.

"Just OC and Silky being immature." Jim informed me.

"Them acting immature?" I pretended to be shocked. "Impossible!"

"What Jimmy means is that there are a bunch of guys from Minnesota." Rizzo said. OC started grumbling at the mention of this.

"Well, obviously, Brooks is from Minnesota." I pointed out.

"What Rizzo means is Rob McClanahan." OC said.

"You mean Cheap Shot?" I asked. Jack and I had come up with our own personalnickname for the guy. Asshole.

"That's right."

"Guys, seriously, that was over three years ago." Jim said.

I had to admit, OC was carrying this grudge on a bit longer than necessary, and maybe I shouldn't have been encouraging him. But like I said, we were really close; we fought the same battles, we had the same enemies. We'd always be on the same side.

When we went home OC was still kind of mad at Jim and Rizzo. He went straight into his room without saying a word. I thought I should start packing but when I looked at all my crap I couldn't.

"Tomorrow," I muttered to myself as I got into my pajamas and turned on the TV in my room.


On the first of July OC, Silky, Rizzo, Jimmy and I were taking a plan to Minnesota. That morning, all I had packed was some clothes.

"You're unbelievable," Silky told me. He was standing in the door frame watching me ransacking my room. How many clothes did I have?

"Don't just stand there; help me!"

He went to the other side of my room and picked up an ancient duffel bag sitting on my bed. We were leaving all the furniture in the apartment for the next tenants, but I still had loads of junk. I didn't even have enough bags to put it all in. I was borrowing some of Rizzo's.

"Hey, watch it!" I yelled at Silky as he started to pick up one of my cameras.


"That thing was expensive! Leave it in the case it comes in."

"It wasn't in a case, Cal."

I got down on my stomach and pulled it out from under my bed. "Here you go!" I said brightly, pushing it over to him.

He just shook his head. "Like I said. . .unbelievable."

Somehow I managed to get all packed up in time for the flight. Silky and I were exhausted. We slept the whole plan ride.


College in Minnesota was going great. I loved all my art classes. I was taking painting, sculpture, photography and film. I wanted to do it all. I tired to schedule my classes when there wasn't hockey practice. I loved hockey and thought it was so cool to watch the actual USA team practice. And Minnesota wasn't so bad either. But I had no sense of direction and was getting lost. Constantly.

I was able to come to the first practice. I sat in the stands of the U doing some of my more boring homework. I wasn't really concentrating. I kept looking up to see what was going on the ice. Herb Brooks sure did yell a lot.

After a while I got bored of watching them doing drills, plus I was hungry. I put my books in my bag and went to the concession stands in the lobby. I was sitting at the bar halfway through my second hot dog when one of the players came out. He had all his gear on and his face was all red. His nose was bleeding. I guessed there had been a fight and was mad I missed it.

Stupid hunger pains.

I didn't recognize him so I guess he was from Minnesota. Or maybe Wisconsin. Even though he was all bloody, I could tell he was pretty good looking. I watched him out of the corner of my eye as he sat a few seats down from me. He grabbed a handful of napkins from a dispenser and started mopping his face with them.

My mom's a nurse. Or was. I don't know what she's doing nowadays. I hadn't seen her since she left when I was eleven. I hadn't talked to her since then. But anyways, OC and I were always getting hurt as kids. We loved to play street hockey and always played rough. We were always coming home with scrapes, scratches and bruises. I had a million memories of my mom cleaning up our injuries. For some reason that always stuck with me.

"You're doing it all wrong," I blurted out. The guy slowly looked up at me. He had wavy brown hair, brown eyes and a mole on the right side of his face near his chin.


"You're just making it worse," I explained. He still didn't get it. I sighed and put my half-eaten hot dog down. "First of all, you need water." I got a new napkin and leaned over the bar so I could get it wet under the sink. "Now hold still." I instructed. Then I started to dab his face where it was bruised and bloody. At one point he closed his eyes and had a look of utter peacefulness on his face. I could be gentle when I wanted to be. It took me a minute to realize I had been dabbing a lot longer than necessary.

I pulled my gaze from his face and abruptly moved away from him. I threw the bloody napkin away.

"Well, that should do it." I said.

He opened his eyes. "Thanks. I feel much better."

"Yeah. . .it's no big deal." I lied. It sort of was. I wasn't the kind of person to just be nice to strangers. Sometimes it was just hard looking past my own problems to reach out to my friends. I remembered last year when my friend's boyfriend broke up with her at a party in front of everybody. She started crying right there. It took me a full minute to move across the room and comfort her. I felt frozen, like I couldn't move my feet. I didn't know why it was so hard. I wanted to help her.

"So there was a fight, huh?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

He chuckled a little. "Yeah. I sort of got the worst of it." He stuck out his hand. "Rob McClanahan."

I froze. So this was Cheap Shot up close and personal. I immediately pushed all those thoughts of him being good looking away and cursed myself for ever thinking that.

I didn't shake his hand. I couldn't.

"I'm pretty sure I know who did that to you."

He gave the same look he did when I first had spoken to him. The one I thought was sort of cute. I did not just think that! Stupid, stupid, Cal! He was the enemy! God help me.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I think it was my brother. I'm Cal O'Callahan. And I think you're an ass."

"Cal O'Callahan?" he repeated, momentarily distracted. That's what everyone said when they first heard me name. I definitely wasn't going to explain it to him.

He shook his head a little, probably trying to clear it. "How can you say I'm an ass? You don't even know me!"

"I know that you cheap shot my brother!"

"That's what all this is about?"

"Damn right it is!"

"Well, you know what?" he yelled back at me. "Boston would have lost even with O'Callahan in the game!"

"Are you calling my brother a bad player?" I demanded.

"Maybe I am! I also think he's a childish baby with anger management issues! He's crazy!"

"Shut up about my brother!" I had a temper and was really protective of my friends and family. Actually, Jack was my only family, but that was beside the point.

"He's the ass here and I can see you're a lot like him!"

I lost it then and really let my anger out. I reeled back and punched him the gut. I knew he was a forward and didn't have any protection there. The force of the punch knocked him off his stool and he grunted in pain.

"What is with your family?" he shouted, clutching his stomach.

"What's going on here?"

Rizzo and Silky had just walked into the lobby.

McClanahan glared at me. Rizzo and Silky put two and two together. My temper and tendency to get in fights, McClanahan holding his stomach.

"Come on," Rizzo said sternly and grabbed my arm.

"Let go of me," I barked but he just pulled me outside.

"What the hell are you doing?" he demanded. We were standing in front of the building.

"Giving him what he deserves."

"You have to let this go! It's not even you're problem."

"You know it is!" He knew it was, too. He knew how close OC and I were. His problems were my problems and vise versa. "He was bad mouthing OC. What was I supposed to do?"

"You don't go around punching people you hardly now!" Rizzo yelled at me. He seldom lost his cool, but he hated violence. He hated OC's and my temper. "You have got to cool it!" he continued. "This is crazy! We're on a team now, so you might as well get used to it!"

I shrank back from Rizzo's words. He was like a second brother to me. I didn't want to make him mad. I felt guilty. He always looked after me and I had upset him.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly. Apologizing was another thing that was hard for me to do.

"I know. I'm sorry I yelled at you, Callie."

"Don't be,"

"Well, don't apologize to me. Tell that to Mac."

"No way,"

"Cal, come on; you have to do this."

He reached out to grab my arm but I moved away.

"I can't, Rizzo!" I looked down at my Converses and then said softly, "I'm not ready."

He understood. Well, not completely. No one—myself included—knew why it was so hard for me to be serious or emotional. No one knew why I couldn't get to that emotional place with other people. I was scared of commitment. I was scared of needing things, but even more so of being needed. That's why I had so few close friends. Silky and Rizzo were basically the only ones.

It was hard for me. Sometimes I just wanted to trust people. That's why I had never had a long term relationship. The second I felt it was getting even a little bit serious—I ended it. Sometimes I hated myself for that. I had probably missed out on a lot of good relationships, but I always think, who cares? They would have ended eventually

and then I would have been disappointed. I was scared of getting hurt. Again. I was scared of being abandoned or betrayed.

It was sort of funny. I wasn't sacred of playing hockey with boys and stuff lik ethat. Actually, I was a daredevil. The only thing I didn't chance were my feelings. The only thing I was really scared of were emotions, my emotions.

"Okay," Rizzo said more gently, right back to his normal self. "Alright, Callie. That's okay."

But somewhere in the pit of my stomach, I knew it wasn't.


Yo, thanks for reading! You review if you liked it OR hated it. A compliment, constructive criticism, whatever.