Breakaway

by W. C. Mack

  Late in the period, with only a minute left, Jeff passed the puck to Bosko and I was right on him, like a shadow. He moved left, I was with him. Right, I was there.

  Neither of us said anything as we battled for possession. We just grunted.

  He checked me against the boards, but that wasn’t enough to stop me from coming after him. I wanted that puck more than I’d ever wanted anything in my life.

  And I’ve wanted a lot of stuff over the years.

  “Go, Nugget!” someone shouted.

  “You can do it!” another voice called out.

  “Come on, Bosko!” Colin yelled. “It’s only Nugget!”

  I’d show him “only Nugget”!

  I got between Bosko and the goal, and the next thing I knew, I felt like I was in the middle of Gunnar’s backchecking drill.

  I’d always hated to skate backwards, but after she’d made us practise, it was no problem at all.

  Just a metre or two away from the goal, I stole the puck!

  And I took off.

  There was no one between me and a winning goal but Bedhead, and I was pretty sure he was ready for a nap.

  I tore down the ice, hearing all of the shouts behind me. No one caught up with me.

  It was the most awesome breakaway ever!

  I went straight at Bedhead, and when I was ready, I let loose on that puck.

  It flew through the air and, while I held my breath, soared right past Bedhead and into the net.

  Yes!

  We won!

  My whole team was out on the ice in seconds, cheering and patting me on the back.

  The Heroes looked pretty miserable, but that was fine with me.

  “I’m so proud of you guys!” Gunnar said, pulling us all into a group hug in the middle of the ice.

  I was so happy we’d won, I didn’t even care that I was squished up with a bunch of girls.

  Gunnar pulled out a big brown envelope. “I’ve got our team photos.”

  I thought way back to day two, when I’d been so desperate to switch teams. I hadn’t even wanted to pose for the picture.

  “Cool!” Cara said, reaching for one.

  Gunnar passed them out to each of us. I stared at the picture, which showed everyone on the team smiling. Well, everyone but me and my bad attitude.

  “Gunnar, do you have a pen?” I asked.

  She pulled one out of her pocket, but before she could pass it to me, I handed her my photo.

  “Can you autograph it?” I asked.

  She grinned. “Absolutely.”

  “Mine too,” Patrick said.

  “And mine,” Tonia added.

  Pretty soon everyone was waiting for their turn.

  “You lost?” a voice boomed from the other side of the ice.

  I looked around and saw that it was Holbrook, talking to the Heroes while he shoved his phone into his pocket.

  “You lost?” he said again. “To a bunch of girls?”

  The whole rink was silent. I wanted to point out that there were guys on our team, too, but it didn’t seem like the right moment.

  “You!” he shouted. “Big guy.”

  He had to be talking to Bosko.

  We watched Holbrook storm across the ice.

  “What’s your excuse?”

  Bosko just stared at him.

  “Answer me,” Holbrook snapped.

  “I don’t think losing to a good team needs an excuse,” he said. He shrugged like it was no big deal, but I could tell by the look on his face that he was ticked off. “But if you really want one, I could blame our poor excuse for a coach.”

  My jaw almost hit the ice.

  “What did you just say?”

  “I’ll be right back,” Bosko said, skating to the penalty box.

  We all stood there silently until he came back.

  “Who do you think you are?” Holbrook asked, as Bosko skated toward him.

  Bosko just stared. “Who do you think I am?”

  “What?”

  “You don’t even know my name, or the names of any other guy on this team.”

  I could tell by the looks on Colin and Chris’s faces that he was right.

  “Names?” Holbrook snorted. “I don’t need to know your names. You think I wanted to be here, wasting my week with a bunch of kids?”

  “Danny,” Gunnar said.

  He spun around to face her. “You can call me Mr. Holbrook,” he sneered. “I was a pro, you know,” he said, glaring at the rest of us.

  “And she is one,” Bosko said, pointing the felt pen he’d picked up in the penalty box toward Gunnar. “Gunnar, I was hoping you could sign my jersey.”

  My coach tried to hold back a smile, but couldn’t do it.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Holbrook said, but before he’d even finished, five more of the guys on his team were lining to have theirs autographed too.

  It was awesome.

  I watched Holbrook shake his head with disgust as he walked off the ice (the guy hadn’t worn skates all week!), then watched Gunnar get the attention she deserved.

  And while she was signing jerseys, I skated up to Ashley, then Cara, Tonia and the rest of the girls.

  One by one, I had them sign my team photo so I could hang it in my bedroom.

  I’m going to leave space on my wall for more photos. After all, the Winter Olympics are every four years, and I’m hoping that some of us will wear the red maple leaf someday.

  About the Author

  W.C. Mack was born in Vancouver., B.C. and now lives in Portland, Oregon. Always a Canucks fan, W.C. Mack has also been known to cheer for the Portland Winterhawks.