by David Skuy
“Sounds simple enough,” he replied.
Mike kicked the ball and his team charged after it. Zachary called for it, caught the ball near his own goal line, and took off down the right side. Thomas touched him after ten yards.
Charlie huddled up with the other players. Zachary joined them.
“Dylan’s not showing up,” Zachary said. “Who’s gonna throw?”
“I’ll do it,” said a short kid wearing a Dallas Cowboys jersey.
Zachary looked unhappy. “Okay, go for it, Ethan.”
Ethan rubbed his hands together. “Beautiful. Okay, guys.” He pointed at Charlie. “What’s your name?”
“Charlie Joyce,” Zachary answered for him.
“Okay, here’s the play,” Ethan continued. “Zach and Charlie go out to the right, Tyler and Alexander, to the left. Outside guys cut in — inside guys cut out. Do it at ten yards — on three.”
“Hut. Hut. Hut!”
On the third “Hut,” Charlie took off. He made his cut at five yards, figuring he’d go underneath Zachary. The defender covering him got tangled up with another player, and he was wide open, but Ethan didn’t throw to him. Instead, he forced the ball into tight coverage on the other side. Thomas stepped in front of Alexander and picked it off. He was touched immediately, but his team had the ball close to the goal line.
Ethan kicked at the ground, not saying anything. He pointed at Charlie.
“You rush the quarterback,” he said.
Charlie lined up over the ball. The worst player always rushed the quarterback, but he wasn’t going to protest, and it was more fun than standing by himself in an empty field.
“Ready, set, hut one, hut two, hut, hut.”
Thomas was the quarterback. He pump-faked, then rolled to his right, close to the line. Charlie guessed he would try a short, quick throw because they were so close to the end zone. On the third steamboat, when Thomas was about to throw, Charlie jumped, holding his arms up over his head. He anticipated it perfectly, and the ball hit his right arm, bouncing off to the side.
“Good play,” he heard someone say.
Zachary came over to slap hands.
“Nice job,” he said. “Let’s hold them here.”
Charlie felt much better. He’d shown he wasn’t just a pylon. He lined up and waited for the next play.
This time Thomas rolled to his left. Once more Charlie timed his jump perfectly, and he managed to tip the ball enough to change its direction. The ball flew over Mike’s outstretched fingertips.
“How about throwing it past the guy?” Mike yelled at Thomas, who flushed and stomped to the huddle.
Zachary slapped Charlie’s back.
“You’re a one-man wrecking crew. Do it again and we get the ball back.”
Thomas took a deep drop on third down, so Charlie wouldn’t be able to block it. A wide-open receiver caught the ball a few yards over the line for a touchdown.
“See what happens when you don’t throw it at the rusher,” Mike said, giving Thomas a friendly punch on the arm.
“See what happens when you guys get open,” Thomas snapped.
They headed up field to kick off. Charlie waited on the goal line next to Zachary.
“We’ll get that back, boys. No problem. Let’s get a good return,” Ethan said.
Zachary moved close to Charlie. “We won’t be getting anything back, if he’s QB,” he said, whispering.
“Maybe he’ll do better now that he’s warmed up,” Charlie said.
“I doubt it. You’ve never seen him play.”
Ethan did slightly better. He didn’t throw an interception. His first throw was at Zachary’s feet, however, and the next one sailed ten feet over Tyler’s head. They were only fifteen yards from their end zone, and so had to punt on third down. Ethan insisted on kicking. He warmed up with a few practice kicks, and promptly squibbed it off the side of his foot and into the parking lot.
Charlie volunteered to get it. He had to crawl under a car, but got the ball in short order. He then fired the ball to Thomas from the parking lot. Thomas grunted when he caught the tight spiral — Charlie had put some serious heat on the throw.
The other team huddled. Charlie lined up to rush. He felt a hand on his shoulder.
“You ever quartered before?” Zachary said.
“A little,” he said.
“How about you take over for the next set of downs.”
Charlie felt uneasy. “I think Ethan’s set on playing QB.”
“Good for him. I’m tired of playing on my own ten-yard line, and watching the ball hit my feet when I’m wide open.”
Charlie was about to tell him not to bother. He didn’t want Ethan to be mad at him — he had enough enemies. But Zachary took off to cover his man before he had the chance.
Thomas didn’t fool around. He tossed a strike to Mike to take them to the five-yard line. Then he rolled to his left and threw across his body to a player cutting back the other way.
“That’s 14–zip, for those of you keeping score. Let us know when you plan to complete a pass, and we’ll start trying,” Mike taunted Charlie’s team.
They lined up for the kickoff.
“Ethan,” Zachary called out. “How about we give Charlie a chance to quarterback?”
“I’m just warming up,” he said. “We’ll drive down the field this time.”
“Let’s just give him one try. I’ve seen him play before. He’s got a good arm. And besides, we could use your speed on the outside.”
That quieted Ethan, but he still didn’t look happy. He glared at Charlie briefly. Charlie wished Zachary hadn’t done that. He also wondered why Zachary said he’d seen him play before. That wasn’t true.
After the kickoff, Charlie knelt down on one knee in the huddle, and cleared a patch of earth. With his finger he drew the play. “Ethan, you switch positions with Zachary. Run a ten-yard buttonhook. Zachary, cut around him and run a corner route, about fifteen yards. Alexander and Tyler, do the same thing on the other side. On two.”
Charlie snapped the ball and faded back. He looked left, and then rolled to his right. Ethan had run a lacklustre route, but Zachary was really moving and had beaten the defender. He threw the ball towards the sidelines. Zachary caught the ball in mid-stride, and set off downfield and into the end zone.
“Nice toss,” Tyler said.
“Something tells me we’ve found a new quarterback,” Alexander added.
Ethan didn’t say anything. He went back to the line and called for the ball.
Zachary ignored him. “I don’t suppose you can kick,” he said, throwing the ball to Charlie.
“I’ll give it a try.”
Ethan had assumed he would kick. With a deep scowl, arms crossed, he moved aside.
Thud.
The ball soared high into the air.
“I got it,” Mike called. He misjudged Charlie’s towering kick, however, and the ball went over his head, slamming into the ground and through the end zone.
“Awesome kick,” Tyler said, offering a high-five. Charlie ran up with the others to play defence.
“Hey, little boys. Get ready for some real football players.”
Charlie saw Jake and Liam sprinting towards them. He groaned. Just when things were starting to go well.
Jake joined Mike’s team and Liam came onto Charlie’s side. Liam barely acknowledged him. He lined up opposite Jake. Charlie went back as rusher.
“Can this guy count to eight?” Jake said, pointing at Charlie.
“No. He goes to four twice,” Liam said.
The ball was snapped and the receivers took off. Charlie fumed while he counted. Those guys never missed a chance to abuse him. Grade nine was shaping up to be a nightmare.
Thomas completed two short passes, one to Jake and the other to Mike. On third down, they still needed twenty-five yards for a score. The bell rang to end the lunch period. “Last play,” Mike called.
Charlie steeled himself for a final rush. H
e desperately wanted to prevent a touchdown and shut Jake up. The ball was snapped and Charlie started counting.
“Six steamboat, seven steamboat, eight steamboat.”
His teammates had done a good job. Thomas hadn’t found anyone open. At eight, he rushed in. Thomas tried to spin away, but Charlie wasn’t fooled. He kept coming and touched Thomas in the back.
“I got you,” he said.
“One hand only,” Thomas said.
He hurled the ball to the corner of the end zone. Jake pushed Liam aside and jumped up to catch it.
“Major TD action,” he said, spiking the ball. “In your face, dude.”
“Pass interference,” Liam said.
“The ref didn’t call it, so no foul.”
Charlie interrupted. “I touched him before he threw it. No TD.”
“No chance. You only got me with one hand,” Thomas said.
“I got you with both, right in the back.”
“One hand — and besides, you crossed the line before eight,” Thomas said.
“I did not,” he said. “I got you.”
“You’re dreaming.”
Liam saw a chance to pick on Charlie, and immediately changed his tune.
“I never saw you touch him. You missed when he spun. And you gotta learn to count, cause you crossed at seven,” he said.
“How can you tell? You were halfway down the field.”
“I was close enough to tell that you didn’t come near him.”
“You wanna win that bad,” he said to Thomas, “then fine.”
“Do you need to have a good cry?” Jake said.
“I need to go to class,” he shot back.
Charlie headed to the school. He barely held his temper in check. All he wanted to do was wipe that smug look off Jake’s face — and Liam’s too. Thomas was just a liar. Charlie sacked him. What kind of guy cheats playing touch football at lunch?
“Wait up, Charlie.”
Zachary walked up beside him.
“I saw it all,” he said. “You got him — and he knows it.”
“Who cares,” Charlie said. “It’s just stupid.”
“It’s irritating, that’s what. You sacked him — and it was pass interference on Jake. No way that’s a TD. They act like it’s their game and they can do whatever they want.”
Charlie looked at Zachary with new respect. He changed the subject. “I assume you made the second tryout for the hockey team,” he said.
“I assume you did too,” Zachary said.
“I did. I got lucky, though. I made a stupid play during scrimmage and cost a goal.”
“No big deal,” Zachary shrugged. “You’ll make it. It might be a weird year, because from what I saw on the first tryout this team could have a lot of kids from grade nine.”
They reached the front doors.
“What class you got?” Charlie asked.
“Apparently, I need to learn some math. What about you?”
“I’ve got science.”
“We have an exciting afternoon ahead of us.”
Charlie laughed. “I’ll see you at the tryout.”
Zachary turned a corner and went down a hall. He seemed like a good guy, Charlie thought. He hoped they’d be on the same team again for the scrimmage. Just then the bell sounded signalling the start of classes. He took off for his locker to get his books. His teacher has already warned him about being late.
5
THE FINAL STRAW
The dressing room door was open. Charlie heard the guys laughing and shouting at each other. He usually relished the locker room banter. That was part of the fun of playing. Not here, though. To him this was hostile territory. No friends here. He was an outsider.
Charlie walked in feeling self-conscious. Jake, Matt and Liam sat together at the far end. Mike was near the door. He chose Mike, and threw his bag next to him.
“There’s room on the other side,” Mike said with a sneer.
“Sorry,” Charlie muttered, quickly unzipping his bag.
Mike growled quietly and shook his head, but he pushed over to give Charlie some space. Charlie tried to appear nonchalant, but inside he fought to stay relaxed and look cool. He would have given almost anything to be somewhere other than in this dressing room. Nothing to do about it now, he told himself, pulling his skates out.
As he bent over to dig out his hockey pants, a ball of plastic hockey tape hit Charlie squarely on the top of his head. At the far end of the room, Jake, Matt and Liam buried their heads in their bags. Each of them was trying hard not to laugh, and not doing a very good job of it. Most of the other boys laughed out loud. Scott, Zachary and Pudge were the only ones who didn’t join in. Scott scowled at the three perpetrators, and Zachary slammed his foot into his skates. Pudge looked down at the floor.
Charlie saw the ball of tape on the floor. He reached down and picked it up, tossing it in the air a few times before dropping it into his bag. He didn’t say a word, just continued to get ready for practice. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Jake reach over and give Matt a high-five. Charlie guessed that Matt had thrown it.
Out on the ice Charlie raced around the rink at top speed, whipping past the other players. He cut crisply behind one net, digging his edges in, pushing off with each step to maintain his speed. He didn’t really know why he was doing it. The coaches weren’t even on the ice, and everyone else was content to dawdle along or take shots on the goalies. He just felt the need to go full out.
The ball of tape was the final straw. He’d had enough. Since his arrival in Terrence Falls he’d felt as if he’d been under constant surveillance, worried about his every move and every word, afraid he’d do or say the wrong thing. The tape ball showed how well that strategy was working. Guys were now throwing things at his head — and openly laughing at him. Maybe it was a weird way to look at things, but Charlie almost felt grateful to Matt. He’d shown him that his problems weren’t going to disappear on their own. He had to stand up for himself — and he had to do it now.
Hilton’s whistle blew, and the boys stopped and hustled over to the bench. He greeted them warmly and said, “Okay, fellas. We’re into it now. As I said, I can only dress fifteen skaters and two goalies for the tournament, and I think all of you are good enough to play. Unfortunately, there are still twenty-eight of you, so that means one goalie and twelve skaters will have to be cut.
“All I can say is give it your best, and good luck. I’m going to let Coach Tremblay run you through your paces, so I can sit here and watch.”
“Let’s go,” Tremblay barked. “Everyone line up at the far end, and I’ll try to remember a few skating drills.”
Charlie learned quickly that Tremblay had a good memory. Twenty minutes later, after a dizzying array of drills that left him gasping for air, Tremblay blew his whistle. “I think we should include some pucks, to see if you guys can actually play this game,” he said.
Charlie laughed. He was beginning to warm to him. Coach Tremblay was always friendly, always offering encouragement or some good-natured advice. More important, behind his joking and laid-back attitude lay a deep well of hockey knowledge, and there’s no better way for a coach to earn a player’s respect than to have that.
“I think this is the perfect time for the neutral zone one-on-one drill. What do you think?”
Charlie and the others answered his question with a sea of blank stares.
“I’ll take that as a yes, and explain the drill.”
He retrieved a small clipboard from the bench. “These things are great,” he said, holding up the clipboard. “I wish I had ’em when I started coaching. You hold your papers on the front, and on the back are the rink markings, and you can use a marker on it. Isn’t that amazing?”
Again, his question garnered no response. “I’ll take that as another yes,” he chuckled. “Anyway, here’s the drill.”
Tremblay sketched out the drill rapidly on the back of the clipboard with a well-practised hand.
The players all nodded.
“Let’s divide into two groups, one at each end. Those of you who played defence last scrimmage may as well stay on defence. Goalies, you can organize yourselves, but let’s have at least one of you in each net. Okay, let’s go.”
A confusing few minutes passed as the players tried the drill, not exactly sure of what they were supposed to do. Tremblay calmly explained it over again, until they eventually figured it out, and the drill began to go smoothly.
Charlie had joined one group of defencemen. Jake, Matt and Liam were among the forwards facing that group. When he saw Matt ready to go, he went to the front, budding ahead of Thomas.
“Hey, you’re kidding, right? I’m next. Get to the back.”
“You can go next,” Charlie replied icily, “as long as it’s after me.”
Thomas grunted in surprise, then shouted “Hey, Matt, show this loser how to play the game.”
Charlie ignored him and got ready. Coach Tremblay waved at him to begin, and he skated hard to the blue line to take an equally hard pass from Matt. He was certain Matt would want to show off in front of his friends by deking him out and scoring, so he probably wouldn’t be focused on the first part of the drill. That’s when he’d make his move.
Once Matt finished circling, Charlie hesitated with the puck slightly before passing to close the gap between them. He then made as if to turn and skate back towards his own end to get in position to defend. Matt accepted the pass, lowering his head momentarily to gather steam. Charlie had no intention of defending, however. He didn’t retreat one inch, and when Matt crossed the blue line, Charlie took two steps forward and smashed his shoulder into Matt’s chest.
Matt flopped to the ice like a sack of potatoes, landing full on his back. Charlie leaned over his prone body and said, “Thanks for the tape, I really needed some.” He then passed the puck to Thomas nonchalantly, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
