Through Indigo's Eyes Read Online Free PDF

And the hockey player boys at school did nothing for me. Like Burke. Sure, I liked him and thought he was good-looking, but I preferred a guy who wore flip-flops instead of skates. A guy like John. He was puzzling and intelligent and always deep in thought and had long, thin legs instead of huge, muscular thighs like the hockey boys had. My body tingled, hoping he would be at the party. What would I say to him? Would he talk to me?
    We were on our way to the Glebe, my favorite neighborhood in Ottawa because it was so funky. Both of us remained silent. Bank Street ran through some neighborhoods, then a business area, then more neighborhoods, right into downtown. The Glebe was one of the last neighborhoods before the downtown core.
    â€œSo,” I said after we’d driven a little way, “what are your plans for next year?”
    â€œIt’s my draft year,” said Burke. “I’m hoping to go pretty high, then I can get to a rookie camp and hopefully a main NHL camp. I might have to play in the OHL again next year, but my big goal is to play NHL. So next year is hockey. What about you?”
    I fiddled with the snaps on my jean jacket. Good question, Burke , I thought. I had no idea what my plans were. “Work for a year, maybe.”
    â€œYou seriously have no idea what you want to do?”
    I shrugged and slouched in my seat. “Maybe I’ll travel. Who knows? I definitely don’t want to go to school. Me and school don’t mix.”
    I wished I could answer those questions. I turned my head and stared out the window again. Just because he knew exactly what he was going to do didn’t mean that I did. A sudden flash of hot air surged through me, and I felt as if I were burning up. Thankfully, we were almost in the Glebe; I could get out of the car soon. I undid the top snap of my jean jacket and loosened my scarf as I continued to stare out the window, telling myself to breathe. I wanted to fan myself. What was I reacting to? His questions? My inability to answer anything about my future? Or his assuredness?
    â€œWho do you play next?” I had to keep talking so he didn’t notice that something was wrong with me.
    â€œThe Kitchener Rangers.”
    Then he proceeded to tell me all their stats and that they were a good team, blah, blah, blah. In a way, I was thankful for his rambling because then I didn’t have to talk. As Burke chatted on, we drove into the Glebe, and I kept staring out the window as we passed upscale shops, specialty shops, bohemian shops, cafés, and tons of great restaurants: Thai, Vietnamese, vegetarian, and even trendy burger joints. My temperature began to return to normal, and I relaxed a little bit. The Glebe was a mix of old and new. Yes, there were beautiful old heritage buildings made of the classic red brick, but there were also newer condo complexes with large windows and modern features.
    One day I wanted to have my own apartment in the Glebe.
    Could that happen next year? Was that what I was going to do? Get a job and live in the Glebe?
    â€œMaybe I’ll get an apartment in the Glebe,” I said, my words coming out of nowhere.
    I snuck a glance at Burke. And then it happened. My mind went blank. I gripped the door handle of the car. No. Not now. Please.
    But it was over so fast I didn’t have time to blink. I saw a black and gold hockey jersey—then it was gone. Sometimes I got snapshots, still images instead of scenes. I breathed, thankful for the quick picture but totally bugged that I would see a stupid hockey jersey, as if I didn’t get enough hockey just living in Ottawa.
    â€œThe Glebe would be a cool place to live. Expensive though, eh?” he said.
    â€œYeah, that’s for sure.” I paused. I didn’t want the conversation to veer to me; I hated talking about myself. Plus, I wanted to find out more about what I had just seen. “What team do you want to pick you?”
    â€œWhat do you