by David Skuy
What worried him more than that was how the rift between him and Jake had affected team morale. They played a team called Leaside in the quarterfinals — not a bad squad, but not as good as them. Terrence Falls should have won the game easily. Instead, it had come down to the last minute. Scott, Zachary, Pudge and Nick were barely on speaking terms with Jake, Liam and Thomas. The two groups had made it clear that they wanted nothing to do with each other. He was uncertain about Matt — he’d been fairly quiet lately, and didn’t seem to be hanging out with Jake that much. Regardless, team spirit was at an all-time low, with no sign of improvement.
Their semifinal opponent would be Flemington — and they were good. They’d beaten Terrence Falls 4–1 in last year’s tournament, and had made it to the finals, where they gave Chelsea a good battle, only losing by one goal. Terrence Falls would never beat Flemington, let alone Chelsea, if things didn’t change — and fast! He was thinking of how to fix the problem when he heard his name called out.
“Hey, Charlie. How’s it going?”
Charlie looked up. It was one of the guys on the team. For some reason couldn’t remember his name.
“It’s going okay,” Charlie said. “Stoked for the big game?”
“You know it. Except for Chesswood, every game’s been so close. Have to admit, there were moments when I didn’t think we’d get this far.”
“We’ve gotten lucky — no doubt about that. Better to be lucky than good!”
The boy nodded. “So where’re you off to?”
“I’m on a milk run,” he said. “Build up the bones before the game, and pack in a few pounds of cereal.”
“Sounds like a plan. I’m on a newspaper run. I wanted to check out the hockey scores from last night.”
“I don’t know who won,” Charlie said. “I didn’t catch the highlights. I was too tired — just went straight to sleep.”
Charlie was desperately trying to remember his name. This was pathetic. He was a forward, probably left wing — but it could be right. He wasn’t a defenceman — he was certain of that.
“Do you live near here?” Charlie said.
He looked taken aback. “Actually, I’m about a block down from you, on the same street.”
“That’s weird. I’ve never seen you around here.”
He shrugged. “I’ve seen you a few times, going to school and stuff.”
The two boys looked at each other.
“Well, I’ll see you at the rink,” Charlie said.
“Okay. Take it easy.”
He crossed the street. Charlie walked into the store, and then it hit him. “Dylan,” he said, smacking his forehead. The guy’s name was Dylan. Charlie had taken his place in the football game. He was right wing on the third line. How could he have forgotten that? He hoped Dylan hadn’t noticed. He must have sounded really dumb when he’d asked where he lived. They were practically next-door neighbours!
He bought the milk and headed home. He didn’t enjoy the walk, however. He felt guilty that he’d been playing hockey with Dylan and hadn’t said a single word to the guy. He was the new kid, not Dylan — the least he could do was be friendly. How many guys on the team did he really know? he asked himself. There were his friends — Scott, Zachary, Nick and Pudge — and his enemies — Jake and his crew. And while it was kind of awkward to get to know the grade ten guys, he hadn’t even made an effort. Some captain!
“I went out for some milk,” he announced as he walked into the house.
“Just toss it in the fridge, please.”
“No problem, Mom.”
Charlie sat at the kitchen table and poured himself a bowl of cereal. He spread out a napkin and grabbed a pen, and then he wrote his name at the top, drawing two large circles underneath. In one circle he listed his friends, and in the other, Jake and his friends. Below those circles he drew a third circle and wrote: The Rest. The team’s fundamental problem was clear to see. He’d always assumed the team was divided into two. It was actually divided into three.
Suddenly, a plan formed in his mind. He’d been so obsessed about Jake’s circle that he’d forgotten there were other guys on the team. He was supposed to be captain for everyone. Maybe it was unrealistic to expect Jake to be his buddy. At the very least he could make his friends and “The Rest” into one circle. Then, at the worst it would be four guys versus thirteen. He decided that from this moment on there’d be no Charlie Joyce clique — not if he could help it.
He folded the napkin and put it in his pocket. He vowed to get started on the plan right away, before their next game, in the dressing room. Time to show the grade tens, and his friends, what kind of captain he could be.
“Good luck,” his grandparents said in unison. They’d come along again to watch the semifinals with his mother and sister.
“Thanks,” he said, taking his equipment from the trunk and heading to the arena. He waved back at them and went in. He stopped to watch Chelsea play their semifinal game for a few minutes. It was already 5–0 for Chelsea, with ten minutes left in the second period.
Most of his teammates were getting dressed when Charlie walked into the dressing room. Pudge moved his bag over, and waved for Charlie to sit next to him.
“How are ya?”
“Stoked and ready to go.”
Pudge picked up his helmet and rested it on his knee. “Did you catch the score of the Chelsea game?”
Charlie nodded. “As expected, Chelsea’s kicking butt. It was 5–0, with about half the second gone.”
“They’re going to be tough to beat.”
“No argument here.”
They stopped talking while Charlie dressed. He needed to hustle if he was going to have time to put his plan into action. It didn’t take long before he’d pulled his pants on, taped his shin pads, and laced his skates. He took a deep breath and then started to go around the room to each player. His plan was to punch fists with each player, making a point of calling them by their first names, and offer some encouraging words or ask if they were ready to play.
“Go for it, Ethan,” he said. “Big game from the D today. Shut ’em down like last game and we’ll smoke these boys.” He held out his fist and Ethan gave it a punch.
“Let’s do it, Adam. Big game from you today. Dylan, I see two goals in your future.”
Jake was next. “I didn’t get the chance to compliment you on your goal last night,” he said. “I didn’t think there was any way you could catch up, but you did. I looked over and you were there. It was an awesome hustle.”
Charlie held out his fist. This would show everyone that he wanted to end their feud for the good of the team. The room was completely quiet, the atmosphere very tense. Jake stared back momentarily, and then snickered and began taping his shin pads. Charlie lowered his hand slowly, turned, and sat back down. That wasn’t good. Pudge raised both eyebrows and didn’t say anything. Scott and Nick exchanged surprised looks, but they also kept quiet. Ethan didn’t look happy. He shook his head at Jake and reached into his bag for his helmet. Jake’s friends were less discreet. Thomas was laughing, and Liam gave Jake the thumbs-up. Charlie noticed, however, that Matt remained silent.
Jake noticed it also, and he said to Matt, “The guy makes one pass a game and thinks he’s a superstar.”
Matt blinked a few times, cleared his throat, and replied in a low tone, “Give it a rest, Jake. You can be so lame sometimes.”
Jake stared long and hard at Matt. “What planet have you moved to, dude? Talk like that to me again, and I’ll make sure you’ll be eating through a straw for a year.”
Matt ignored him, and bent back down to tape his shin pads, which seemed to infuriate Jake even more.
“Big tough guy can’t think of anything else to say?”
Matt straightened up, his eyes blazing. “I don’t remember asking for your opinion.”
“Then make your move, wuss.”
Charlie couldn’t believe what was going on. After going around the room he’d planned on ma
king a speech about how the team had to pull together if it wanted to win. Things couldn’t have gone worse. He’d underestimated just how much Jake hated him, and he also hadn’t considered how Jake’s friends would react.
Charlie knew that neither player was likely to back down. Jake was a tough customer. But Matt couldn’t be intimidated, either. He wasn’t as big as Jake, but his powerful build made him an imposing figure when provoked.
Charlie tried to get them to calm down. “Guys, let’s be cool,” he said. “This is insane. We’re only one game away from the final. This isn’t the time.”
Jake looked over at him. “Actually, it’s time that I busted you up, once and for all. I’m tired of seeing your face, and I’m tired of putting up with your garbage.”
Jake charged him. Charlie was too shocked to move. Before Jake could throw a punch, however, Matt bodychecked him from the side, knocking him into the wall. Jake fell to the floor, but was back on his feet in a second.
“You’re as good as dead, Danko,” he yelled.
Before he could charge again, Charlie got up and stood next to Matt.
“So I’ll take both of you losers on,” Jake snarled.
Then Pudge got up and stood next to them, followed by Scott, Nick and Zachary. Ethan came over, as did the rest of the grade tens.
“You were saying, Wilkenson?” Ethan said quietly.
That stopped Jake in his tracks. “You guys are real brave when it’s ten against one,” he said.
“I think that’s more your style, Jake,” Matt said.
“I think I’d rather jump out of an airplane without a parachute than play with you jerks,” he said.
“Let me book your flight,” Scott said.
A few titters of laughter were followed by a few more, until most of the guys were roaring. Charlie watched Jake closely. He half expected him to take them all on. He didn’t. Instead, with a cocky grin on his face, he picked up his bag and said, “Liam, Thomas, I’m tired of carrying this loser of a team. Let’s go. It stinks in here, anyway.”
Jake left, followed by his two friends.
“If you ask me, it smells a lot better now,” Scott quipped.
That set the guys off again, but they quieted down when the coaches walked in and reality sunk in.
“I just saw Jake, Liam and Thomas leaving with their equipment,” Hilton said. “Would someone like to tell me what’s going on?”
Charlie felt all eyes on him. He cleared his throat to stall for time. “I don’t think they want to play for the team,” he said finally.
Hilton took a deep breath, shaking his head.
He looked around the room.
“Here’s what we’ll do. We’ve got five defencemen, so one guy will sit every second shift. Up front, we have two lines and a sub. Dylan, you go through the lines on the wing. Matt and Charlie will be the centres. I just have to speak to the convener about the lineup changes.”
Hilton and Tremblay left. Charlie didn’t know what to say to the team, but he had to say something. He had initiated the fight to some extent by going up to Jake in the first place. But he still thought he’d done the right thing. Jake, Liam and Thomas made the decision to quit. That wasn’t his doing. Unfortunately, the fight seemed to drain the energy out of the team. Everyone was quiet, looking down at the floor or straight ahead at the walls. What could he do with this lifeless bunch?
While Charlie considered his options, the Chelsea players filed past the dressing room. Some of the players began chanting, “Six in a row!” Obviously, they’d won. The chant grew louder until all the Chelsea players and the coaches were joining in.
The Terrence Falls players sat glumly, listening to their rivals. Charlie cupped his hands around his mouth, and bellowed at the top of his lungs, “Wait till you play a real team. And bring your silver shoes to match the silver medal you’ll get. Terrence Falls gets the gold!”
That got a reaction.
“Has Terrence Falls ever won anything?” one Chelsea player hooted.
“I don’t see you even getting to the finals,” said another.
“We’ll try to keep the score under 10–0 for ya.”
That was too much for an avid trash-talker like Scott. “You’re living in the past, dudes. You’d better hope we go easy on you.”
“Come and see my trophy case, big man,” a Chelsea player responded.
“You really know how to party,” Scott mocked.
His teammates joined in, and soon both teams were trading insults back and forth. The Chelsea coach eventually hustled his team into their dressing room, and the hallway was quiet. Not the Terrence Falls dressing room, though — all the players were on their feet, fired up for the game.
Zachary jumped up on the bench. “Play with reckless abandon, boys,” the normally laid-back winger said. “If you don’t break a bone, you’re not trying!”
“Safe with the puck,” Craig chimed.
“Leave it all on the ice today,” Ethan said.
“And play smart. No stupid penalties.”
“Let’s go out and hammer these guys.”
“They can’t keep up if we play our game.”
“Sudden death, guys. No sense worrying about tomorrow.”
Charlie held up his hand and the room quieted. “I don’t think anyone gives us a chance without Jake, Liam and Thomas. But, to tell you the truth, I didn’t think we had a chance of winning with them. I think we just got a whole lot better. We go hard right from the start. We win this game one shift at a time. And it starts with the drop of the puck.”
He looked at Alexi. “How about you lead us onto the ice, so we can win this thing already.”
The goaltender flipped his mask down and marched down the hall. Charlie held the door open and hit each player’s shoulder pads as they passed.
“Let’s go, Scott. Your game, Ethan. Come on, Nick. Take it to them, Pudge. Work hard, Dylan …”
Charlie was last to leave. He cast a glance at the empty dressing room. Could they really win without three of their best players? Frankly, he wasn’t sure.
16
SHORT BENCH
Terrence Falls came out strong, and dominated most of the game, firing shot after shot at the Flemington goalie. He’d played an outstanding game, however, and the score remained tied at 0–0 deep in the third period — but he’d also been lucky. Nick had banged one off the post early in the first period, and Zachary had missed on an open net to start the third.
With less than three minutes to play, a Flemington defenceman had the puck at his blue line. His left winger cut across the neutral zone.
“Simon, quick pass,” he said.
The winger took the pass, but Charlie was right on him, and he was forced to circle to his end, where he dropped the puck back to his defenceman. He decided to try it himself this time, and headed down the left side. Pudge saw that and cut him off, which left him with little choice but to fire it in.
Charlie took advantage to call for a change, which is why he didn’t see the puck careen off Pudge’s skate. Pudge dropped to the ice, clutching his foot, and the whistle blew.
Charlie assumed the puck had gone out of play and didn’t turn around.
“Pudge got hurt,” Matt said, pointing to the ice.
Charlie’s heart sank. Pudge had played such a solid game to that point. He followed the trainer over to his friend.
“You gonna make it?” Charlie asked.
“Zachary said if you don’t break a bone, you’re not trying.”
“Please don’t tell me your foot’s broken.”
“Let’s find out.”
“Wait a minute,” the trainer said. He probed gently. “Okay, try putting some weight on it.”
Charlie helped him up. Pudge slowly lowered his skate to the ice. He winced, leaning on Charlie for support. “Not too bad,” he said. “I’ve had worse.”
Pudge glided to the bench, with the trainer’s help, but he kept most of his weight on his other foot. Charlie star
ted slapping the ice with his stick and was soon joined by the other players. Matt hopped the boards and skated to Charlie.
“We didn’t need that,” Matt said.
“Tell me about it,” Charlie replied.
“Not much time left. We need to take it up a notch and put this game away.”
“It’s time for you to be the hero.”
Matt grinned. “Now that you mention it, I do feel heroic all of a sudden.”
Charlie rapped his shin pads and joined Pudge on the bench.
“Do you think you can play?” Charlie asked.
He looked uncertain. “The pain’s gone away a bit. I think I’ll give it a try and see what happens.”
Charlie looked up. A Flemington defenceman had the puck at centre, and he fired it down the ice to get a change. He turned back to Pudge. “We need you out there. It would be huge if you could tough it out.”
A roar from the crowd interrupted, and he heard the whistle blow.
“What happened?” he asked Zachary.
“I think this team’s cursed. Alexi caught the puck, and went to sweep it behind the net to Scott. The problem is, he swept it right into our net,” Zachary said.
“They scored?”
“It appears so.”
The Flemington players had their sticks over their heads, most of them laughing, pounding the scorer’s back.
Hilton pulled lightly on Charlie’s shoulder pads.
“How about you go out there and tie this game up?” he said.
Charlie jumped over the boards and headed straight to Alexi. He had dropped to his knees, head down. He looked up at Charlie, unable to say a word.
“We wouldn’t be here without you,” Charlie said, giving his pads a whack. “And what’s done is done. Let’s make a deal, you and me. I’ll get that one back, if you promise not to let another goal in for the rest of the game.”
Charlie knew Alexi was ultra-competitive. He even hated giving up a goal in practice, so that challenge was music to his ears. He loved to be counted on, to come through in the clutch. Some players shrink from that responsibility. Not Alexi, and Charlie was counting on it.
