by W. C. Mack
“Eat, Nugget,” she ordered.
So I did.
“Last day,” she said, ruffling my hair, then lifting the book off the table. “How is it?”
“Really good,” I told her, then chased my mouthful of mush with a big slurp of milk. “I’m hoping Gunnar will sign it.”
“I’m sure she’d be happy to.” She pointed to the laundry room. “Your jersey, socks and the rest of your gear are on top of the dryer.”
“Thanks, Mum.”
Maybe she’d be willing to sign the jersey, too. How awesome would that be?
I’d only made it through half of my oatmeal before I heard Mrs. Cavanaugh honk her horn in the driveway.
“Gotta go,” I told Mum.
“You didn’t finish,” she said.
“It would be rude to keep her waiting,” I said, hoping that would get me off the hook.
“Good one.” She sighed as she handed me my lunch.
If she’d been in the mood to make oatmeal, I hated to think what kind of a nightmare was in that paper bag.
I grabbed my clean gear from the laundry room, shoved it into my gear bag and let Mum kiss me goodbye.
“Last day,” Kenny said from the front seat, after I’d climbed into the minivan and buckled my seatbelt.
“Yup.”
“We’re gonna smoke you guys this afternoon.”
“Kenneth!” his mother warned.
“What? We are.” He shrugged. “It’s a simple fact.”
“We’ll see,” I told him, feeling like we had a decent chance of winning.
But what if we didn’t?
How long would it take for my teammates to let it go?
One week? Two?
No, we had to win. It was as simple as that.
* * *
When we got to the rink, it looked like we were the last ones there. Kenny and I rushed to the locker room and got changed as fast as we could.
When we were done, Kenny stared at my jersey.
“It’s so weird to see you wearing that,” he said.
“I think it looks pretty cool, and it is my team.”
“More like your Girl Guide unit,” Kenny laughed.
I stared at him, partly because I thought we were past the teasing about me being on Gunnar’s team and partly because there was no way he came up with that comment on his own.
“Who said that?” I snapped.
“Me?”
“I don’t mean just now. I mean who said it first?”
He sighed. “Chris.”
“Pretty hilarious,” I said, rolling my eyes.
Kenny shrugged. “We all thought so.”
“Well, I don’t think you guys will be laughing when you see what those girls can do.”
“French braid their hair?” he asked, chuckling again. That is, until he saw my raised eyebrow. Then he cringed a little. “That one was Colin.”
“Hilarious again,” I told him, picking up my stick and heading for the doorway.
“I was just kidding, Nugget,” he called after me.
“I know.”
That was the whole problem. All the guys thought it was okay to make fun of the girls and think they couldn’t play as well as we could. Even I’d been thinking that way for most of the week. But the truth was, I would have been happy to go up against any team in the Island League with Cara, Ashley and Tonia on my side.
I stepped onto the ice, just itching to give the guys a run for the money.
Of course, we had to get through the whole morning first. And skating laps was a good chance to concentrate on something other than the scrimmage.
“Hey,” Ashley said, moving in next to me.
“Hey,” I said, speeding up.
But she sped up too.
“I’m sorry about yesterday,” she said.
“Me too,” I said, pushing the pace a little harder.
She kept up. “I was just sick of being treated like a weirdo all the time, you know?”
Why wasn’t she even out of breath? “Smart isn’t weird,” I told her, going even faster.
“But genius is,” she said, still keeping up.
“No, it’s —”
“You saw what our dinner table is like. Seriously, Nugget. Mnemonics? Who does that?”
“Hey, my family plays Scrabble and stuff,” I said, knowing it was a pretty weak argument.
“I saw your face and I know for a fact you thought it was weird.”
“No, I —”
“It isn’t just you, anyway. None of the kids at my school like me.”
“Maybe it’s because you’re a liar,” I said. I cringed a little because it sounded meaner than I meant.
“This week is the first time I’ve ever lied about it.”
“And how did that turn out for you?” I asked sarcastically.
“Fine, until you guys found out.”
“What I don’t get,” I said, seriously panting as we went even faster, “is why you decided you had to lie to me. I didn’t give you any reason to think I’d be a jerk about it.”
“Good point,” she said.
The next thing I knew, she was a metre ahead of me, then another.
What the heck?
I grunted as I lifted my legs faster and faster, mad that I couldn’t reach her speed.
I skated as fast as I could, but there was no way I could keep up.
And my jaw practically hit the ice when Ashley Bosko lapped me at top speed.
She slid to a stop and let me catch up.
“What was that?” I asked, ticked off that she’d beaten me by so much.
“Fast,” she said, shrugging.
“I noticed. What are you, a superhero?”
“I used to be a speed skater.” She stared at me. “And I can tell by your face that you’re ticked off I beat you.”
“No,” I lied.
“Sure you are. You struggled to keep up, you couldn’t do it, and now you’re mad at me.”
I didn’t want to admit it, but she was right. “Maybe.”
“I’ve made my point. Now you know why I was hiding the fact that I’m a prodigy, too.”
And a super fast skater.
Wait a second.
“Have you been going slow at camp on purpose?”
She nodded.
“Why?” I didn’t give her the chance to say anything, because I already knew the answer. “You wanted to be normal.”
“Yeah,” she said, nodding. “And it worked. For a while, anyway.”
I was still having a hard time understanding why she wouldn’t want to show off. Sure, I understood that kids got jealous and everything, but so what?
“If I could skate like that, I’d do it all the time,” I told her.
“That’s because you don’t have to worry about making friends, Nugget. You’ve got a ton of them.”
I didn’t know what to say and Ashley didn’t say anything else. She just kept pace next to me until Katie blew her whistle to start our drills.
For the rest of the morning, I thought about what Ashley had said. If she was willing to skate slowly to fit in at camp, what kind of things did she do at school so kids wouldn’t be jealous of her? Did she pretend she didn’t know answers in class? Act less smart than she really was? Blow quizzes or tests so people would like her?
I thought about Bosko, and how no one ever gave him a hard time about being a genius (sure, that might have something to do with the fact that he was also a giant who could crush them if they did, but still). I wondered if maybe it was different for Ashley because she was a girl.
I thought about the players in Gold who always got stuck in the net instead of other positions, and the ones who were made fun of by both guys and girls for being on a male team when there wasn’t any other choice.
I looked across the ice and saw that the girls on Holbrook’s team were stuck playing cards in their penalty box.
It wasn’t fair.
None of it was fair.
A
s soon as there was a break, I skated over to Gunnar.
“How’s it going?” she asked.
“Good,” I said. “For me, anyway.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Okay,” she said, like it was a question.
“You know, I’ve been checking out Holbrook’s team and I’m tired of seeing those girls left out.”
Gunnar nodded. “I tried to talk to him about it, but … well, he’s kind of old school.”
“But you aren’t,” I reminded her. “And us players? We’re so new school, we’re still in school.”
“Good point,” she said, chuckling.
“I think those girls should join our team.”
“Nugget, it’s the last day of camp.”
“I know, but … they should get to play in the game, too. With us.”
It was kind of a risky suggestion, because I had no idea whether they were any good and it was super important that we win.
At the same time, it was suddenly super important to me that they play.
Gunnar looked like she was considering it.
“I want them to help us smoke the Heroes.”
Gunnar smiled. “That would be kind of sweet, wouldn’t it?”
“Totally sweet,” I told her, skating back to the rest of my team.
* * *
I was definitely ready for a break when lunchtime rolled around. As I passed the Port Alberni guys on my way to the Cougars’ lunch spot, I told them about the girls joining us and they both high-fived me.
I thought about how dumb it was that the Blizzard didn’t eat lunch with Ashley or the Holbrook girls and realized that us guys were doing the exact same thing to the out of town guys. It didn’t make any sense.
So I invited them to eat with us.
“Are you sure?” Mark asked.
“Yeah,” I told him. “It’ll be cool.”
It wasn’t totally cool, though. While most of the guys didn’t have a problem eating with “the enemy,” Colin and Chris gave them the cold shoulder.
“Anybody want my cheese and crackers?” Patrick asked.
I did! I peeked into my bag and groaned when I saw a bunch of cherry tomatoes, two cartons of milk, a granola bar and an egg salad sandwich.
Great.
“What do you have?” Skinny asked, holding up a PB and J on the squishy white bread Mum swore she would never buy.
“Nothing you’d want,” I sighed.
“Try me.”
I lifted the egg sandwich out of my paper bag and cringed.
“Egg?” he asked. When I nodded, he handed me the peanut butter dream.
“Seriously?” I practically choked.
“I love egg salad,” he said.
I bit into my new sandwich like it was a chocolate bar. And it tasted almost as good.
While I was chewing, I looked at the other end of the stands, where the girls were eating their lunches together. I thought about inviting them over too, but the truth was, they looked totally happy hanging out on their own.
It was on the ice that they needed the invitation.
I sure hoped Gunnar would make it happen.
And she did.
After lunch, we had three new players on our side, all wearing brand new Gunnar jerseys and big smiles. In fact, one of them almost blinded me with the glare from her braces, but that was okay.
Gunnar quietly explained to our team that one of our players had suggested they join us, and when Ashley and Patrick both gave me questioning looks, I just shrugged.
But they knew.
“That was really cool,” Patrick said, when we split up into teams for a practice scrimmage.
“Thanks for going to bat for my cousin,” Mark said, slapping me on the back. “I should have done that myself.”
“Yeah, I’m impressed,” Ashley said, smiling. “You’re a good one, Nugget.”
Knowing what a jerk I’d been earlier in the week, I was happy to hear it.
* * *
I couldn’t stop checking the clock every couple of minutes, and when two o’clock rolled around, I was totally ramped up and ready for battle.
Gunnar blew her whistle and both teams met at centre ice.
“You guys don’t stand a chance,” Colin said.
“Wait and see,” I told him.
He glanced at our three new girls and laughed. “You’re playing with our rejects, Nugget.”
“Nope,” one of the girls said. “We joined a new team, so we actually rejected you.”
The rest of the girls giggled, and so did I.
Danny Holbrook just glared.
“Let’s move on,” Gunnar said. “We’ll play three fifteen minute periods. Ready?”
We all cheered and skated to our own benches.
Gunnar listed her starters and I was glad to be one of them.
“Are we gonna do this?” Quinn asked.
“We’ve practically done it already,” I told him. We’d done it in my head, anyway.
Us starters skated into position, and I eyed the competition, who didn’t look nearly as serious as we were. Oh well, that was their problem, not mine.
I figured I’d be up against Colin at left wing, or maybe one of the guys from out of town. So when Eddie Bosko skated over and faced me across the line, I swallowed hard.
He was supposed to be right wing, like me.
Sure, we’d played against each other before, but that didn’t mean I liked it.
I looked at the other Cougars out on the ice, getting ready to play against me.
It was kind of a spooky feeling, knowing that some of my best friends would be my enemies for the rest of the afternoon. I wondered how Bosko would feel when we played his old team, the Sharks, later in the season. He’d played with those guys for as long as I’d been teammates with Colin, Kenny and everybody else.
Then again, he hadn’t been listening to his old teammates talk trash for a whole week.
I couldn’t wait to wipe the ice with them.
I checked out Danny Holbrook, who actually looked like he was paying attention, for once.
That is, until his phone rang.
I shook my head as I watched him head for the bench to take the call.
“No way,” I muttered.
“Tell me about it,” Bosko said. “You definitely lucked out at this camp.”
I totally agreed.
Gunnar blew her whistle once, then dropped the puck. Jeff McDaniel took possession and passed to Eddie in about half a second. I tried to check him, but he breezed past me like I was a ghost.
Part of me wished Dad hadn’t made him play left wing when he subbed in as coach. Bosko didn’t need the extra edge.
I chased after him, determined to get that puck, but when he deked out Simon and headed for the goal, it ended up being his own sister who stole it.
“Go, Ashley!” Cara shouted from the bench.
She was going, all right.
She whipped down the ice, dodging Chris and a Port Alberni guy so she could head straight for Bedhead at goal.
But Kenny got in the way.
“Nugget’s open!” Patrick shouted.
Ashley glanced at me, then passed the puck.
“Nice pass!” Gunnar shouted.
I didn’t have a clear shot, so I skated around the back of the net, knowing Bedhead hated that. I came in tight and took my shot, but he dropped to one knee and it bounced off his pads.
Nuts!
Kenny chased down the puck, then hustled across centre with no one covering him.
“Get him!” Tonia Simpson screamed from the bench.
Ashley took off like she was on fire and caught up with Kenny, but couldn’t get the puck away from him. He went right and she stayed close to him, all the way to the boards, where it was hard to tell who was shoulder-checking who.
“Nice one!” Quinn shouted when Ashley came away with the puck.
She was back down the ice like lightning, and before I’d even crossed the centre line she was circling t
he goal.
But Bosko was right on her, taking jabs through her skates from behind.
It was battle of the geniuses, right before my eyes.
Ashley came out on top of this round, and when she saw an opening, she took the shot.
Bedhead blocked it with his stick, but before he could pass the puck to one of his defencemen, I swooped in and stole it.
I was back behind the net again, watching his helmet swivel back and forth while he tried to figure out which way I would come at him.
The right way, it turned out, when I slipped the puck right past him on the left.
It was hard to tell who on Gunnar’s team was screaming the loudest, the boys or the girls.
“Lucky shot,” Chris said, bumping me with his shoulder when he skated by.
“Lucky enough,” I said, smiling. “One-zip, buddy.”
“Not for long,” he muttered.
Unfortunately, he was right.
The Heroes came back strong, scoring two goals in the next three minutes.
The guys went nuts, cheering, but I didn’t hear anything out of Holbrook.
In fact, I couldn’t even see the guy.
“Don’t let them get to you,” Gunnar shouted from the boards. “Shannon and Tim, take over defence.”
I watched them race onto the ice while Patrick and Simon hit the bench for a break.
My heart was pounding. We were losing. Only by one goal, but they’d scored both of them so fast!
It turned out I didn’t have to worry too much because in seconds, Ashley had the puck again and she was hauling toward the far goal.
“Nice hustle!” Gunnar shouted.
But Bosko was right on her tail, going after the puck.
“I’m open!” I shouted, in perfect position for a shot.
Ashley passed the puck high and fast, so I had to smack it down to the ice with my glove. In less than two seconds, I’d taken the shot.
In three, Bedhead had missed it.
“Nugget! Nugget! Nugget!” my teammates chanted from the bench.
It was seriously awesome.
By the time the first period was over, the score was still tied.
By the time we hit the end of the second, we were still two-all.
It was making me nuts!
We went into the third ready to “leave it all on the ice,” as my favourite announcer, Dave Hodgkins, would say. And by all, I meant my heart and a bucket or two of sweat out would be left out there to get that win.
