by W. C. Mack
Of course I didn’t need a rest!
Especially if Cara didn’t need one.
“Are you okay?” Patrick whispered from his spot beside me.
“I’m awesome,” I lied, trying to make my breathing sound normal.
“You look kind of … exhausted.”
“I’m fine,” I told him.
“You know, the girls are all a year or two older than us.”
“I know.”
“They’ve been playing longer, Nugget.”
“I know,” I snapped, starting to get ticked off. I didn’t need an excuse for losing to a girl because I didn’t lose.
He shrugged. “I’m just saying.”
Once we were all lined up, Gunnar blew her whistle and I took off like my life depended on it.
My blades cut the ice faster than they did the first time around. My legs felt heavy at first, but once I got into the skating rhythm, I didn’t notice anymore.
I was seriously hustling and keeping up with everyone.
And that was a good thing, because it turned out that Cara the redhead wasn’t the fastest girl out there. There were three Blizzards who were seriously smoking the rest of us.
And the guys from Port Alberni were hauling, too.
I bent to touch the line and spun around smoothly, then took off for our goal line again. My legs felt good, but everything else was struggling. I tried to keep my breathing nice and even, but my throat and lungs felt like they belonged to somebody else. Somebody who was ready to lie down for a while.
I gritted my teeth, thinking about the times I’d been put to the test, especially going up against Bosko. I knew I could pull out all the stops if I had to.
And to save face on first day of camp, I definitely had to.
There were a handful of kids ahead of me, but that was about to change. I took a deep breath and ignored the raw feeling in my lungs. I lifted my left skate before my right blade had even hit the ice. And I did the same with my right, then my left again, picking up speed.
I was going for it! Practically flying!
I pumped my arms as quickly as I could, passing Tim and two members of the Blizzard.
Yes!
I touched the line, pulled another smooth turn and started racing for the next one. Pretty soon, I was one of the frontrunners, keeping pace with Patrick, Skinny Port Alberni and a girl with two long, dark braids poking out from under her helmet.
Man, was she fast!
But, in the end, I was faster.
I crossed the goal line for the last time, ahead of everyone else. Even though my knees were shaking and my lungs were empty, I felt awesome.
“Good job,” Patrick said, skating over and patting me on the back.
“You, too.” I looked over at Danny Holbrook’s camp and saw that they were split into two teams, busy scrimmaging.
As awesome as it felt to beat everyone at skating lines, I would have rather been playing.
“Those Holbrook jerseys are awesome,” I said.
“Yeah, but seriously, Nugget, who would put their own name on every jersey?” He watched them with me, then whispered, like an announcer, “Holbrook passes to Holbrook, who loses the puck to Holbrook, but can he out-skate Holbrook? Holbrook’s looking pretty nervous in goal, knowing that Holbrook has a heck of a slapshot.”
“Very funny,” I said, rolling my eyes.
I scanned the ice, looking for the Canuck. Other than seeing him huddled up with Bosko, I hadn’t had a good look at the guy yet.
Where was he?
“Our team’s over here,” Tim reminded me.
“I know,” I sighed. “It’s just …”
“Danny Holbrook?” he finished for me.
“Yeah,” I sighed.
Tim shrugged. “If you ask me, the dude’s overrated.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“Nice work on those lines, Nugget,” Katie Gunnar said, suddenly appearing next to me. “You’ve got some stamina.”
“And speed,” I told her.
She laughed. “And a bit of an ego, maybe?”
“Definitely,” Patrick said, nodding.
“Well, there’s nothing wrong with knowing your strengths,” Gunnar said, slapping me on the back.
“See?” I said, elbowing Patrick, who rolled his eyes.
“But it’s important to be aware of your weaknesses, too,” Gunnar added. Before I could say anything, she continued, “Now let’s get rolling, here.”
And that’s exactly what we did.
We spent the whole morning practising technical stuff, like skating backwards (a weakness of mine, I had to admit), changing directions in half a second, stick handling and, finally, shots on goal.
I glanced over at Holbrook’s side to see if he was anywhere in sight. Part of me hoped he’d seen my magic on the ice and would demand that I switch to his team.
As I waited in line behind the rest of Gunnar’s team, I imagined Danny Holbrook giving me a camp MVP award on Friday. I could practically feel the weight of a gigantic trophy in my arms.
“You’re up, Nugget.” Patrick said, poking me in the back.
“Cool,” I said, taking the puck Tim passed me and skating toward the first orange cone.
It was a drill the Cougars did all the time, so weaving through the cones felt really smooth and natural.
What made it even better was that I was super warmed up after a whole morning of drills, so I felt nice and loose.
The goal was empty and I took my time lining up a shot that was guaranteed to impress Holbrook.
I swung my stick and connected with the puck perfectly. It whipped through the air and right into the top left corner of the net.
“Sweet,” I whispered. What I really wanted to do was shake my fist in the air, like it was the winning shot in the last four seconds of the final Stanley Cup game. But I held back.
I passed Cara the puck and she took off toward the cones while I headed for the back of the line.
The whole way there, I expected to hear Holbrook’s voice, asking who that awesome player was, but it didn’t happen.
When I saw Cara’s great shot, it got my attention and from that point on, I almost forgot about Holbrook while I watched my own team.
After Cara’s turn, a couple of other Blizzard girls showed that they had some skills, then Jeremy Simpson’s sister Tonia took her shot and just nailed it. The puck moved so fast, I wished we had a radar gun to measure its speed.
Seriously.
Ashley Bosko was up next, and even though she had nothing on her brother, I had to admit she was decent, too.
The truth was, I was kind of impressed with most of the Blizzard girls. And maybe even kind of impressed with Katie Gunnar. She seemed to know what she was doing.
I looked over to Holbrook’s side and saw him leaning against the penalty box while his guys went at it. Bosko had the puck and he was dodging defencemen like it was nothing. And to him, it was.
I heard Kenny shout that he was open, and Bosko passed to him.
While Danny Holbrook started digging around in his jacket pockets, I watched my best friend make the best shot of his life, scoring on Bedhead.
“Yes!” Kenny shouted.
“Nice play,” I heard Bosko say while a couple of guys slapped Kenny on the back.
Holbrook didn’t even look up, because he’d found what he was looking for.
A cell phone.
It probably means I’m a jerk, but I was kind of glad the coach had missed Kenny’s shot. It would have stunk to watch a Canuck get all excited over Kenny’s playing while I was stuck in Girlville.
I watched Colin shoulder-check Jeff, then pass the puck to Chris. But Chris barely had it two seconds before Bosko stole it and headed for the goal.
I checked to see if Holbrook was watching, but he was too busy clearing his three girl players off the bench and into the penalty box so he could have a private phone conversation.
“Nugget, it’s your turn,” one of th
e Watsons said, passing me the puck.
I took off toward the cones, wondering who Danny Holbrook was talking to.
* * *
When both coaches blew their whistles, we all skated off the ice to grab our lunches from the locker room. My brown bag weighed a ton, but it was always hard to know whether that was good or bad. Heavy could mean something like a can of pop, but because Mum was a nutritionist, it could also mean a tub of hummus. And I knew from experience that it was impossible to explain hummus to the rest of the guys.
On my way back to the stands, I watched Gunnar walk over to Danny Holbrook with a big smile. She said something I couldn’t hear and then her smile disappeared when he said only one or two words back and kept coming toward the stands.
Gunnar just stood there and watched him walk away for a few seconds, shaking her head, like she couldn’t believe what she’d heard. Like he’d said something totally crazy.
Weird.
I was hoping Holbrook would come up into the stands and eat lunch with us guys. I figured it would be an awesome chance to hear some behind-the-scenes stories about the Canucks and what it was like to be a real NHL player.
Just because I wasn’t on his team didn’t mean I wouldn’t be able to talk to the guy.
I actually started to feel kind of nervous about what to say to him. That is, until he turned left and headed for the main office.
Oh well, I had a whole six days to get to know him.
I kept climbing until I got to the rows that were loaded with most of the Cougars and sat down.
Just as I was opening my lunch bag, I noticed that Katie Gunnar was climbing the steps toward us.
Luckily, she joined the Blizzard girls, who were giggling and shrieking in their own group, a few rows down from the Port Alberni guys.
At least most of them were. Ashley Bosko was sitting a couple of rows up, kind of near the three girls from Holbrook’s team, but not totally with them.
Whatever.
I dug into my bag, relieved when I saw that the heavy stuff was juice boxes.
“Trade you my mandarin for your brownie,” Tim said to Patrick.
“No way.”
“I’ll take the mandarin,” I told him. I loved those things and I’d already eaten the one from the toe of my Christmas stocking. “Want my fruit punch?”
“Deal.”
I gave him the juice box, glad that Mum had packed three of them for me.
“So,” Chris said, from his spot in front of me and Patrick. “How’s it going?”
“Great,” Patrick said.
“Seriously? he asked. “You like the girl’s team?”
“Yeah.” Patrick nodded.
“What are you guys gonna be called, anyway?” Colin asked. “If we’re Holbrook’s Heroes, who are you?”
“Gunnar’s Girlies?” Jeff asked, through a mouthful of peanut butter and banana.
“You have girls on your team, too,” I reminded him, getting annoyed.
“Only a couple, and not as our coach,” Chris said. “You guys got burned.”
“Totally burned,” Kenny agreed.
I knew from experience that agreeing was what Kenny did best, so I didn’t let it bug me.
“She’s pretty cool, actually,” one of the Watsons said, in between gulps of chocolate milk.
“Pretty cool,” the second Watson repeated.
I waited for the third one to pitch in, but he was too busy with an awesome looking peanut butter cookie to get involved.
“Yeah well, she’s not as cool as Holbrook,” Chris said.
“Holbrook’s not that cool,” Patrick said.
Everyone stopped talking and even chewing to stare at him.
“Dude, he was a Canuck,” Jeremy said.
“A long time ago,” Patrick said, sounding pretty sure of himself.
“Yeah, well, Gretzky retired before I was even born,” Chris said. “And I still think he’s pretty cool.”
“Obviously,” Kenny said, and a couple of guys nodded.
“Hold on a second,” Patrick said, waving a banana in the air. “Are you actually comparing Holbrook to Gretzky?”
“No, I’m just making a point.”
“Do you know what that point is?” Patrick asked.
One of the Watsons snorted.
“Look,” Chris sighed. “All I’m saying is I don’t think you guys are getting your money’s worth out of camp.”
“What are you talking about?” Patrick asked.
“You didn’t even get jerseys,” Colin said.
“Yeah, we did,” a Watson said. “We’ll have them tomorrow.”
“Are they in the shop?” Chris asked. “Having those last few sequins added?”
I knew we weren’t going to get anywhere with that conversation.
“I saw all the hats and stuff Holbrook gave you guys,” I said, kind of hoping somebody might offer to share.
“Pretty awesome,” Jeff said, nodding.
“Was it all autographed?” I asked, thinking of how a few extra bits and pieces could round out my collection at home.
“No,” Jeff said. “It wasn’t Holbrook’s stuff,” he added, quietly.
“Was it signed by other Canucks?” Patrick asked.
“No,” Bosko said. “The hats are from a burger place in Surrey, with their logo on them.”
“Huh?” That didn’t even make sense.
“The stickers were from —” Bosko began.
“A garage,” Chris finished for him.
“Seriously?” I asked.
“And the calendars were from the Bank of Montreal.”
“Hold on,” I said. “None of it was hockey stuff?”
“No,” Jeff said. “But it was free.”
Man, if I was a retired pro, I would bring all kinds of cool stuff from my old team to hand out.
Bank calendars? Ugh.
What was Holbrook thinking?
Kenny piped in. “Who cares about whether the free stuff was any good?”
Judging by the looks on everyone’s faces, we all did.
Kenny continued, “You guys have been doing drills and stuff all morning while we’ve been playing.”
Bosko’s deep voice came from behind me. “Drills are important.”
Usually two or three words from Bosko were enough to shut everybody up. But not at hockey camp, I guess.
“Sure, at practice,” Jeremy said. “But this is camp. The whole idea is to play.”
I’m not sure what our number-one benchwarmer really knew about playing, but he did kind of have a point.
“Yeah,” Kenny said. “I’m here to have fun.”
“Me too,” Chris said.
Maybe Chris was right and we really weren’t getting our money’s worth by running a thousand drills.
Maybe Katie Gunnar really was ripping us off.
Chapter Five
When I hit the ice again after lunch, I didn’t want to waste any more time. Camp was only six days long, and the first day was already half over. Thanks to Eddie Bosko’s tutoring, I could calculate that I had already wasted just over eight percent of my camp time on drills.
That meant we still had more than ninety percent left, and I was ready to make the best of it.
Gunnar blew her whistle and we all skated over to meet her at the goal line.
“I hope everyone is feeling full, happy and ready to work,” she said, with another big smile. “We’re going to work on fast turns this afternoon.”
“Seriously?” I whispered to Patrick. “More drills?”
“I’m sure she has a plan,” he whispered back.
It seemed to be about time I came up with one of my own.
I let everyone else get into line ahead of me and watched for a minute while pairs of players took a turn skating. When Gunnar blew her whistle, they had to change direction, turning right. The next time she blew it, they had to turn left. Every single time they heard the tweet, they had to switch. And Gunnar blew that whistle a lot.
Patrick and one of the Watson triplets were up, and they looked pretty good on the first couple of turns, but when Gunnar picked up the pace it turned into a bit of a mess.
Next was the other Watson and Tim, then Skinny and Big Nose from Port Alberni. Because there were only seven guys on the team, I was the odd one out, which meant I had to find a partner from the Blizzard.
“Fine,” Ashley Bosko said, rolling her eyes.
“Fine what?”
“I’ll do the drill with you.”
“I didn’t ask you to,” I told her.
She leaned on her stick. “You were going to.”
“Why don’t you pair up with one of your friends?” I asked, pointing over my shoulder at the other girls.
“Too late,” she said, with a shrug.
I turned to see that they were already split into twos.
Great.
“Hey, why didn’t all of you girls sit together at lunch?” I asked, hoping to distract her from wanting me for a partner.
She stared at me. “I don’t know any of them.”
“But you’re the Blizzard,” I reminded her. “You’re a team.”
“No, we’re not,” she said, shaking her head. “The girls on Holbrook’s team are from Port Alberni.”
Just like the extra guys on my team. What were they trying to do, take over Cutter Bay?
“Okay, so they aren’t on the Blizzard but you’re —”
“Not on any team this year.”
“What? Why not?”
She sighed, like I should have known all of this stuff. “When we moved here in September, the Blizzard’s roster was already full. I’ll sign up for next season.”
“But you’re —”
“Trying to squeeze some hockey in during Christmas break, if you don’t mind. So, are we partners?”
“It doesn’t look like I have a choice.” I sighed.
“Don’t worry, Nugget,” she said, with a laugh. “I won’t embarrass you.”
I stared at her. What was that supposed to mean? That she thought she could beat me at fast turns? Ha!
“I know you won’t,” I told her.
When it was our turn, I knew I did a better job than most of the kids, and I was definitely better than Ashley. She kept turning the wrong way and almost skating into me, no matter how many times I told her to watch out.
