by W. C. Mack
“B, m, v,” Ashley said, rolling her eyes. “Beets, mushrooms, vinegar. Be My Valentine.”
“Very nice,” Mr. Bosko said, then turned to me again. “What are you trying to memorize?”
Did I really want to continue the conversation? I couldn’t see a way out of it.
“All of our Prime Ministers. In order.”
“Hmm,” all of the Boskos but Ashley said at once, leaning back in their chairs.
It was nothing like dinner at home. At all.
“I always remember Tupper by thinking of Tupperware,” Shane said.
“Nice start,” Mr. Bosko said. “Let’s see what we can do with visual clues.”
“John A. MacDonald was first,” Eddie said.
“You could think of a pillow or some other object, in the shape of a giant number one, covered in a tartan pattern,” Mr. Bosko told me.
What?
“A Scottish tartan,” Mrs. Bosko said. “Scottish, like MacDonald.”
“Or you could visualize one Big Mac,” Shane suggested.
Ashley sighed. “Okay, I don’t think he’s going to need a mnemonic device to remember his own last name, you guys.”
They all stared at her for a second, then Eddie nodded. “Oh, yeah. Nugget McDonald.”
“Duh,” Ashley said, looking at me and rolling her eyes. “McDonald to MacDonald isn’t much of a stretch.”
“Next up, Mackenzie,” Mr. Bosko said. “What do you think, Shane?”
I knew they were trying to help, but I kind of stopped listening.
Maybe Ashley was right, and being normal was way better than being a prodigy.
And when it came down to it, I was pretty impressed that she’d actually survived that household.
Chapter Eleven
The next morning, after I’d had my shower and smelled bacon cooking (yes!), the first thing I reached for was my Gunnar jersey. Sure, it was a wrinkled mess from being balled up in my bag, but that wouldn’t stop me from wearing it. I was officially part of Katie Gunnar’s team.
I didn’t even wait until I got to the rink to put it on, like I normally would.
“That looks great, honey,” Mum said, when I came downstairs.
I knew it did, because I’d already checked myself out in the bathroom mirror. “Thanks.”
“So,” she said, with a knowing smile, “you’re enjoying camp.”
“Definitely,” I told her, then explained a little bit about the other Cougars making fun of our “girl team.”
Mum shook her head. “You guys need to stop bickering over all of the silly little details. It’s just hockey.”
What?
“First of all, it’s not just hockey, Mum. And second, it’s not me causing problems,” I told her. “It’s Colin and Chris.”
She gave me a knowing look. “It’s everybody.”
I couldn’t really argue with that, especially when I was trying to shove a huge spoonful of fruit salad into my mouth. Blueberry, strawberry, peach and banana all exploded on my tongue.
Tasty, but it needed a little extra kick.
When I finished chewing and swallowed the mouthful, I reached for the sugar bowl.
“No,” Mum said, snatching it away before I could grab it.
“Just a little.”
“That isn’t a bowl of oatmeal, Nugget. Fruit is naturally sweet.”
“So is sugar,” I told her.
“Not going to happen,” she said, putting the bowl in the pantry.
It didn’t matter. I had a feeling hockey camp would be sweet enough already.
* * *
Kenny and I joked around the whole way to the rink, and when we dumped our bags in the locker room, I was glad to see Patrick and Tim gearing up next to the Port Alberni guys.
The first hour or so of camp was pretty awesome. I felt fast and strong when we did our drills. It was cool to know that the workout would help me during our afternoon scrimmage and when Cougar practices started up again next week.
Every now and then, I’d check for any sign of Danny Holbrook on the other side of the rink.
He wasn’t there, and it kind of looked like Colin was running things. He had a whistle stuck in his mouth and was splitting everybody up into teams. The next thing I knew, they were scrimmaging. Again.
The girls were still playing keep-away by themselves, which looked super boring.
“It’s too bad Holbrook isn’t playing the girls,” I said, quietly.
Mark looked as surprised to hear me say it as I was.
“Yeah,” he sighed. “We hear about it every morning on the drive here. They’re pretty ticked off.”
I would be too.
“You guys carpool?” I asked.
He nodded. “One of them is my cousin.”
“Cool.” I looked to the other side again. “Where is Holbrook, anyway?”
“Who knows,” Patrick shrugged. “Making another important phone call?”
“Or catching a morning meeting?” I suggested.
“Are you guys with us?” Gunnar asked.
I nodded when I turned to face her, noticing that she was checking out the other side of the rink, too.
It seemed pretty weird that Gunnar and Holbrook were both there to coach and while she was keeping us hopping with drills, the Heroes were left to be zeroes.
“I really think we should play them,” Ashley whispered, from the other side of me.
“Holbrook doesn’t want to,” I whispered back.
“He’s not even here,” Ashley said.
“Yeah, but —”
“Can I help you two with something?” Gunnar asked.
“No, I, uh …” I felt Ashley elbow me, pretty hard. But that wasn’t enough to make me ask. “No.”
“I think we should play Holbrook’s team,” Ashley blurted out before I could stop her.
Gunnar shook her head. “Not going to happen. I already asked him, remember?”
“I know, but can you ask again? Those guys have been total show-offs all week.”
“We need to put them in their place,” Skinny Port Alberni said.
“Please?” Cara asked, and all of the other girls chimed in.
“Fine,” Katie said, shaking her head and laughing. “I’ll give it another shot.”
We warmed up by skating laps and every time I got a view of Holbrook’s team, I looked for their coach. I didn’t see him until my fifth time around, and when I did, he was standing on the ice, texting while the guys played.
The morning passed by pretty fast and when we played some keep-away, I noticed the girls on my team were better than some of the boys. Not better than me, but some of the guys. Cara was one of the best players and Ashley was good, too.
I took a quick bathroom break, and when I came back down the hallway toward the rink, all of the light was blocked by a giant shadow. I panicked for a second, until I realized it was Bosko.
“How’s it going?” I asked.
“You tell me.”
“What?”
“I said, you tell me, Nugget.”
What was that supposed to mean? “Uh …”
He leaned close and I felt like I was shrinking. “I’ve been watching you.”
I cleared my throat. “I’ve been watching you guys, too. You don’t seem to have much supervision.”
“I’m not talking about your team, Nugget.” He made a V with his fingers, which he pointed at his own eyes, then at mine. It was kind of scary. “I’ve been watching you.”
Yesterday, he was backing me up about the Port Alberni guys in our locker room and now he was “watching me”? It didn’t make sense.
“What’s going on?” I asked, hating the shake in my voice.
“You tell me,” he grunted.
“I have no idea what you want me to say, Bosko.”
“Do you like my sister?” he demanded.
“What?”
“You heard me,” he said, stepping close enough that I could smell peanut butter on his br
eath.
“No, I don’t like her. I mean, I like her, but I don’t like-like her.”
He snorted. “Like-like? What are you, nine?”
“You know what I mean. She’s cool to hang out with and stuff, but no, I don’t like her.”
“So you aren’t in love with her?”
Okay, gross. “No.”
“Good, because if you were, I wouldn’t be too happy about it.”
“But I’m not,” I reminded him. Then I started thinking about how he drooled over Wendy. “Wait a second. You’re in love with my sister.”
“So?”
“So how is that any different?”
He leaned in really close, so I could not only smell the peanut butter, but practically taste it. “Because Ashley is my sister.”
I couldn’t argue with that.
“Well, I don’t like her, so you have nothing to worry about,” I said, edging past him to get back out on the ice.
“I’m still watching you,” he called after me.
* * *
When we broke for lunch, I headed for the stands to eat, but I stopped when I saw Gunnar approach Danny Holbrook.
I couldn’t decide what I wanted to happen. If we played his team and won, it would be awesome. If we lost, we’d never hear the end of it.
“Danny?” Gunnar said, skating up to him.
“What?”
“My kids would really like to play your guys this week. You know, just a fun game.”
“They wouldn’t have fun,” he growled.
“What?”
“Listen, Gunnell —”
“Gunnar,” she said, smiling tightly.
“Whatever. Look at the group you’ve got. A bunch of girls and some pipsqueaks.”
I felt my face get hot.
“What’s your point?” she asked.
“My guys will tear them apart.”
“How do you know?” she asked. “You’ve barely even seen them play.”
Whoa!
“Excuse me?” he barked.
“I’m not sure there is an excuse.” She cleared her throat and I could tell she was nervous. “You’re here to teach these kids new hockey skills and maybe some life lessons and —”
“Give me a break. I’m here because my agent told me to be here.” He shook his head. “And I thought it was going to be high school kids, not … this.”
She frowned. “Great attitude, Danny.”
“What do you care?”
“I consider it a privilege to be asked to coach these kids.”
“You would,” he sneered.
Her cheeks turned bright red. “And why is that?”
“You’re crazy enough to think you have something to teach them.”
Katie took a deep breath and I could see that she was steaming mad. “Why don’t you put your money where your mouth is, Danny? I officially challenge your team to a match on Friday afternoon.”
“You officially do, eh?” He laughed. “No thanks.”
“So you forfeit?” There was no nervousness in her voice, now.
He frowned. “No.”
“Then Friday it is. Two o’clock,” she said, and skated off before he could say anything else.
I had to admit, I was totally impressed.
I climbed the stairs, smiling to myself. Katie Gunnar was what my dad would call one tough cookie.
“What are you smiling about?” Ashley asked, as I climbed past the girls.
“Nothing,” I said. “Just the fact that we’re playing Holbrook’s team on Friday.”
“Seriously?” she asked, raising her hand for a high five.
I gave her one, then glanced up at the guys.
Bosko was looking like he might reach down my throat and pull out an organ.
I shook my head at him and whispered, “Gotta go,” to his sister.
The last thing I needed was to get on the gorilla’s hit list. The fact that we’d kind of become friends while he tutored me didn’t mean he wouldn’t kill me.
I took a deep breath as I got closer to the guys.
“Nugget —” Bosko started, but I interrupted him.
“So,” I said to the group. “It looks like Friday is game day.” I looked at Patrick and Tim. “Us against them.”
“Nah,” Colin said, shaking his head at the same time and spraying us with spit-drenched cookie crumbs. “Holbrook will never let that happen.”
“He already is,” I told him. “We’re taking you on.”
“Ha!” Chris barked. “We’ll wipe the ice with you.”
“You think so?” I asked.
“Your team has more girls than guys,” Kenny pointed out.
“Thanks for the news flash,” I told him.
“You don’t stand a chance,” Bedhead said.
“We’ll see about that,” Patrick told him.
And suddenly I couldn’t wait to play Holbrook’s team. All week I’d been listening to them brag and watching them scrimmage, but they hadn’t been paying any attention to us. They didn’t know how fast Cara was, how much better I’d gotten at skating backwards or that Quinn was becoming an awesome stick-handler.
They’d been so busy acting like big shots, they’d forgotten to watch out for the underdogs.
I actually enjoyed my celery sticks, for once, and not just because Mum had added peanut butter. I was looking forward to putting the Holbrook team, including their coach, in their place.
“Anyone want my graham crackers?” Patrick asked.
“I’ll take them,” Bosko said, offering him an orange.
Kenny asked, “Are they supposed to be cookies or crackers?”
“Who knows?” Chris said. “Feel like giving up that Rice Krispie square?”
“No way,” Kenny said, putting it in his lap for safekeeping.
I watched the guys swapping food and when Bosko moved to a spot next to me, I tried not to panic.
“How’s it going, Nugget?” he asked.
“Fine,” I told him, taking a bite of celery. “Gunnar’s actually a lot cooler than I thought. And tougher.”
“I wish I was on your team,” he said, quietly.
I didn’t think I’d ever heard him say anything like that before. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. I’m here to have fun, but I also want to learn some new plays and moves, you know?” He shook his head. “Holbrook doesn’t even want to be here, but these clowns are too star-struck to notice.”
I looked at Holbrook’s guys, who were all proudly wearing his name on their jerseys instead of their own.
I hadn’t seen him coach anyone all week, and they were still acting like he was some kind of legend.
“Kind of nuts,” I said quietly.
* * *
When I got home that afternoon, the first thing I did was grab Gold from my room. I carried it downstairs and got comfortable in Dad’s recliner.
Before I opened the book, I took a good look at the picture on the cover. Gunnar and the rest of the team looked so happy and so proud of themselves, it made me want to know what it taken for them to get there.
The Olympics.
Gold medals.
I cracked open the book and started at the beginning. Usually, I already knew a bunch of stuff about the team or person I was reading about, but this time, it was all new to me.
I read each of the player bios, and was surprised by how many of them were the only hockey players in their families. Then again, Gillian Apps had a father and a grandfather who were NHL stars. Now that was a hockey family!
What I was most surprised by was how many of them had to play on boys’ teams growing up. Cutter Bay had had a girls’ league for as long as I could remember, but when Gunnar’s teammates were girls, there was nothing for them.
How weird would it have felt to be the only girl on a team? Never mind that it sounded like they always got stuck in goal.
Ugh.
I was amazed they’d stuck with the sport at all.
The book wa
s so interesting that before I even realized it, I was almost forty pages in and really liking it.
“What are you reading?” Dad asked, sitting on the couch across from me with his newspaper.
I told him about the gift from Mum. “Did you know that women have only been playing hockey at the Olympics since 1998?”
Dad nodded. “I did. There were other events that didn’t used to be open to women, too. Like the marathon at the Summer Olympics. Women didn’t compete until 1984, which isn’t that long ago.”
I stared at him. “Yeah, it is.”
Dad laughed. “I mean in the big scheme of things, Nugget.”
I could see what he meant — 1984 wasn’t a hundred years ago or anything.
“It’s pretty cool to know someone who actually went to the Olympics,” I told him.
“And won,” Dad said.
“Twice.” I thought about it for a second, the way Bosko had put it. “Gunnar’s team beat every other team in the world.”
“Pretty impressive,” Dad said.
“Gunnar even scored the final goal for the gold medal the second time around.”
“How is she doing as a coach?”
“Good,” I told him. “She knows lots of stuff and she’s good about spotting our weaknesses.” I shook my head. “But I guess Holbrook’s good at spotting her weaknesses.”
“What do you mean?”
I shrugged. “He’s been kind of a jerk. He didn’t want his team to play ours because we have a bunch of girls on our roster and he kind of put Gunnar down for being a girl coach, too.”
“And are the girls pretty good?”
“Yeah. Some of them are awesome.”
“Well,” Dad said, “I don’t want to point fingers, Nugget, but you had a bit of an attitude about a female coach, too.”
“I know,” I sighed.
“You judged her the same way people have judged you for being small. You’ve spent your whole hockey career trying to prove to people that you’re a tougher and better player than they think.”
“Same as Gunnar,” I said, feeling like I’d been a jerk, myself. Dad was right. I hadn’t given her a chance at all.
But at least I was making up for it.
Chapter Twelve
We all knew we had to work super hard, since the big game was just a day away.
We were all wearing our jerseys and even though the rest of our gear didn’t match, we still looked like a unit.
