As I have stated in a previous chapter, Parry Sound does not have a whole lot to offer in the “excitement and action” category. This becomes particularly problematic in the field trip department. One summer, I made friends with a couple of kids who came to Parry Sound on vacation (people actually want to come here for the summer to go “cottaging,” which apparently is a thing) and they were telling me all about the amazing field trips at their school. The kid closest to my age went to the Science Center, which is a place, at least according to his description, where you get to stand in giant bubbles and make slime. And his younger sister got to go to a doughnut factory. A DOUGHNUT FACTORY!
But in Parry Sound, there are no science centers or doughnut factories, so we pretty much rotate among three places:
1. The Museum
2. The Water Treatment Facility
3. A nature trail
Today, I have the exciting opportunity to learn about the fascinating world of water purification…for the fourth time. I feel like I could probably conduct the tour myself at this point, but I’m not complaining. At least I get out of school for the day.
I tried to petition Mrs. Vanderson to let us go to the Bobby Orr Hall of Fame for our field trip. I wrote a letter and everything:
Dear Mrs. Vanderson,
First of all, I just wanted to let you know how much I have learned in you’re class. You always find new and exciting ways to explain things and I for one find it very refreshing. And did you get a new haircut? It really suits you.
Anyways, on a completely unrelated note, I wanted to talk to you about the possibility of visiting the Bobby Orr Hall of Fame for our next field trip. It’s not that the Museum and Water Treatment Facility aren’t super interesting and there’s nothing I love more than an invigorating hike, but I also would enjoy learning more about the GREATEST HOCKEY PLAYER WHO EVER LIVED. I think other kids would like it too.
Sincerely,
Jay Roberts
She responded with this:
Dear Jay,
I am flattered that you find my teaching style such a good match to your ever-growing and inquisitive mind. I do wonder, however, if I was having an off day when I taught you the difference between “your” and “you’re.” (Please see underlined word in the enclosed photocopy of your letter.) I also appreciated the compliment about the haircut that I received three weeks ago. It is good to know it still looks freshly done.
In regard to school field trips, we do have certain requirements that need to be met in order for them to be approved. The biggest requirement is that the trips need to have some educational component, so that we are not just letting students miss school pointlessly. I would be interested to know what part of a trip to the Bobby Orr Hall of Fame you feel would be educational for our class.
Respectfully yours,
Mrs. Vanderson
P.S. I absolutely love Bobby Orr and have been to his Hall of Fame on many occasions. I even had the opportunity to meet him and have a picture signed a few years ago. It was a real highlight!
Well, now I had to plead my case.
Dear Mrs. Vanderson,
YOU’RE always trying to make everything a learning exercise, even my letter! (See? I do listen. Does that help my case?) There are many things that would be educational about going to the Bobby Orr Hall of Fame. For instance:
1. We could use Bobby Orr’s stats to make math problems.
2. Using a hockey stick as a unit of mesurement, we could figure out the length and width of different items. And then we could multiply that together to find the area. (See? I was listening during math class too!)
3. We could research stuff and write a report or something!
YOUR response to this letter would be much appreciated.
Sincerely,
Jay Roberts
The next day I received the following:
Jay,
I should probably just tell you—it’s not going to happen. Also, you spelled “measurement” incorrectly.
With warmest regards,
Mrs. Vanderson
So, the Water Treatment Facility it is.
I am on the bus, sitting beside Luke, while Mrs. Vanderson is going through the field trip rules, which no one is really listening to.
“It is a privilege to be able to go and learn outside of the classroom. If anyone tries to take advantage of that privilege, they will be sent home immediately and banned from future trips. Now, the Water Treatment Facility is an excellent place for us to observe and question, but it can also be a place of danger if people are not following instructions. So I want everyone paired up, and you need to make sure you stay with your partner at all times. Both of you will need to stay with the group unless I have given you permission to use the washrooms. Is everybody clear on the rules?”
A couple of kids give a half-hearted “Yes, Mrs. Vanderson,” which is apparently good enough for her because she gives a big smile and says, “All right, then! I can feel your minds filling with knowledge as we speak,” before sitting down.
“I seriously don’t think I have any more room for water purification knowledge,” Luke says, turning toward me. “I’ve heard this speech, like, a million times. I swear I could recite it by heart.”
“Yeah, I even know his jokes,” I agree. “What did the ocean say to the other ocean?”
“Nothing, they just waved,” we both say together before bursting into laughter.
“Seriously, that guy needs new material,” Luke says, and for the rest of the bus ride we discuss the other “highlights” of the water presentation.
When the bus comes to a halt, Mrs. Vanderson stands up with a finger to her lips, indicating that it’s time to be quiet. When she is finally able to get everyone settled down, we exit the bus in single file and then quickly find our “buddies.” I don’t have to find a buddy, because without even asking, Luke and I are partners. It’s just one of those things that goes without saying.
My class is led on the tour by a short man with glasses and a mustache named Rick, who, thankfully, is not the guy that cracks all the bad jokes. He is, however, AMAZINGLY boring and keeps losing his place in the presentation, which causes him to repeat just about everything twice. This is awesome, because when there is something that couldn’t interest you less in the whole world, it’s always better to hear it twice. At the halfway mark, Luke and I do what we always do in the middle of a field trip—ask for a bathroom break.
“Excuse me, Mrs. Vanderson? I really need to go to the bathroom,” I say, using my whiniest voice.
“That’s interesting, Jay. It seems to me that you had to go to the washroom during our last field trip to this facility. And, if I remember correctly, the field trip before that. I do hope that you don’t have some kind of medical condition,” Mrs. Vanderson says, a look of false concern on her face. A few kids in the class chuckle. No matter how old you get in the kid world, talking about bathrooms is still funny. Here are some other things that remain funny:
1. When you see signs that have missing letters or burned-out lights so that they spell different things. Like, it’s supposed to say “All you can eat butter chicken” but instead it says “All you can eat butt chicken.” That’s just good comic material.
2. Rhyming, altering, and/or adding to a kid’s name. The weird thing is, most of the names we make for kids aren’t all that inventive. But put “Icky” with “Nicki,” and something magical happens.
3. People spilling food on themselves or, better yet, getting hit with food. One of the biggest regrets in my life thus far is that I have never been involved in a food fight. Just once, I would love to see someone get a pudding cup poured on their head. I mean, it would be totally hilarious, right? (Unless, of course, that person was me, in which case you could just replace “hilarious” with “horrifying.”)
I think I should take this opportunity to say that I DO NOT have a medical condition that makes me have to go to the bathroom (just in case that was unclear). My mid-trip b
athroom break is solely for the purpose of getting some time away from Rick and his repetitive ramblings.
“So…can I go, Mrs. Vanderson?” I ask, since she has not yet answered my question and is still just looking at me with one eyebrow raised.
“I suppose. Please make it quick, and be sure to take your buddy with you,” she replies, turning around to face the rest of the class and Mustache Rick.
Luke and I leave the room and turn left when we get to the end of the hallway. Yes, we know this place well enough to know exactly where the bathroom is. I push open the door and start to comment to Luke how I think Mrs. Vanderson is getting wise to our bathroom scheme, when I stop dead in my tracks.
Leaning up against the wall with Jake, another kid from my class, is Mick Bartlet.
“What the heck are you doing here?” says Luke, beating me to the question.
“I had to take a bathroom break, what does it look like?” Mick responds, folding his arms and giving a sly smile.
“Strange, I didn’t hear you ask to go to the bathroom. Jay, do you remember hearing Mick ask to go to the bathroom?” Luke is scratching his head as if trying to remember.
“No, Luke. I can’t say that I do. And since only two people are allowed to go to the bathroom at a time, I suppose you two should be running along now,” I say, opening the door and motioning for them to leave.
“Hmmmm…I think that Jake and I would rather stay. Isn’t that right, Jake?”
Jake nods, but I can tell that he would probably rather just go back. He’s an okay guy, but pair any kid up with Mick and they suddenly become…well…Mick-ian.
Mick slaps Jake on the back (by Jake’s reaction it must have been a pretty hard slap), steps past Luke, and comes toward me.
“I meant to tell you, that was a really nice goal you had in our last game. I mean, if that goalie had even a tiny bit of skill he would have been able to catch it. You basically just gave it to him.”
“Yeah, well…I guess I’m lucky that the league has such crappy goaltenders then,” I reply, trying to pretend that he’s not bothering me and that I am not starting to feel heat building behind my ears. I don’t know what it is about Mick Bartlet that gets to me but…oh, wait. Yes, yes I do.
HE IS A TERRIBLE, AWFUL PERSON.
Okay, that might be a little harsh. My mom says that when people do mean, horrible things, it’s usually because there’s an insecurity they are trying to cover up, and that we should never call someone a “bad” person but rather say that they are a person who “acts badly.” So, let me rephrase that:
HE ACTS LIKE A TERRIBLE, AWFUL PERSON.
There. That looks about right.
“I mean, personally, I try to shoot the puck using a bit of power, you know, bring some heat. But I suppose, for a squirt like you, it’s probably hard for you to shoot like a normal person.”
He’s trying to get at me. I know this. He knows I hate it when he refers to me as a little squirt, and when people imply that I can’t play with the “big boys” because of my size. He is trying to get you, Jay. Don’t react. Don’t give him the satisfaction. Just stay calm and be the bigger man. You have nothing to prove to…
“I can outshoot you any day of the week and twice on Sunday,” I blurt out, and even as I say it, I wish I could take it back.
Mick bursts out laughing. “Oh you can, can you? I would love to see that. I would REALLY love to see that.”
Luke is stepping toward Mick now, and I know what he is going to say before he even opens his mouth.
“He’ll prove it. A shootout, you and Jay, 4:00 this afternoon, at the bay. We’ll get Brent to goaltend.” I shoot him a glare, but he just shrugs his shoulders and looks back at Mick, waiting for his response.
“You and me, Squirt? You actually want to do this?”
No. I actually don’t want to do this. It’s not that I don’t think I can outshoot Mick Bartlet. I mean, he’s good, but I feel fairly confident I can take him. But I really don’t need this aggravation right now. Also, if he loses, I can see Mick punching me in the face or something.
“I mean, it’s okay if you don’t want to take me on. I know it’s probably scaywee for a wittle guy like you to go up against a big scaywee guy like me—”
“You’re on,” I hear myself say before I can stop it from coming out.
“Well, won’t this be fun! I’ll see you at 4:00, loser. You two enjoy your bathroom break,” Mick says with a smirk. Then he pushes the door open to leave, with Jake trailing behind.
Luke and I stand there in silence for a moment before Luke finally breaks it.
“I, for one, think it’s great to put yourself in healthy, competitive situations that will help to mold and define your character.”
“Sometimes you’re a real idiot.”
“Now, the term ‘idiot’ in this situation refers to a supportive and loyal friend, right?” Luke grins and points to himself, and I respond sarcastically with, “Yeah, you nailed it,” before pushing open the door so we can head back to the group.
At the end of the presentation, we all receive a button that says “Water Works!” and Mrs. Vanderson gives a thank-you speech to Mustache Rick for his interesting and informative presentation. Parents and teachers are always telling us not to lie, but it seems like it’s okay when they do it. An interesting double standard.
As we pull out of the Water Treatment Facility, the typical bus-ride antics begin. Throwing things at other kids in the seats farther up and then pretending to look around to see who did it. Standing up and then sitting down as fast as you can before the bus driver and/or teacher can catch you. Waving from the back window at people in cars, and trying to get truck drivers to honk their horns as they pass. It’s stupid, I admit, but it passes the time. Preoccupied as I am with thoughts of my shootout with Mick, though, I just can’t seem to get into it. I slink down in my seat, shut my eyes, and try not to think about anything at all.
“So, ready to take on Mick?”
Yes, Luke is my best friend. Also, on occasion, the guy drives me NUTS.
CHAPTER 14
“Okay guys, so we’re going to do a best out of five. You’ll start back here, behind this branch, skate up the ice, and take your shot. Everybody got it?” Max has taken it upon himself to oversee this little after-school competition, and both Mick and I nod to indicate that we understand the rules.
There is an actual net instead of the usual markers so the shootout will be “the real deal,” according to Luke. At the edge of the bay, a few of our classmates have come out to watch. (It’s more likely that they have nothing better to do, rather than actually being interested in the contest…small town, remember?) Mick stretches and then takes a few shots on net as Luke gives me a completely unnecessary and unhelpful pep talk. He’s good for that kind of thing.
“All right, it’s time to focus. Are you focused?” Luke asks, giving me a slap on the back.
“Uh…yes?” I reply, it sounding more like a question.
“Just remember that this is your moment, your destiny. Every minute of your life has led up to this. Fate has brought you here today, to this place…”
“I’m pretty sure ‘fate’ has nothing to do with it. The way I remember it, SOMEONE has a huge mouth, and that person is completely responsible for this entire thing. Who was that guy again? Tall, dark hair, ugly face…oh, that’s right. It was YOU.”
Luke shrugs and gives me a wide grin. “Listen, we can dwell in the past and talk about who got who where, but how will that help you right now? Just focus on your task and try not to think about the fact that everyone will make fun of you for the rest of your life if you lose,” he says, and then hands me my stick.
“Wow. As always, super helpful,” I respond sarcastically.
“You’re welcome!” Luke shouts over his shoulder as he makes his way back to join the spectators.
“Are we doing this or what?” Max asks, looking impatient. Mick and I skate toward him until we are both behind the tre
e branch. “Coin toss to see who starts. Call it, Mick.” Max flips a quarter up in the air and Mick calls out “Heads” before the coin falls to the ice, spinning a few times before it settles.
Heads. Mick goes first.
Mick skates around the ice one time, his hands holding his stick on the back of his shoulders while his upper body twists from side to side. He skates into place, then bolts up the ice with full power and takes a slapshot. But the puck heads straight for the goalie, who grabs it with ease. Brent (who is also the goalie for the Shamrocks) is no slouch. Mick is going to have to do better than that to get one by him.
I stand behind the tree branch and Max drops a puck in front of me. When I see that our goalie is back in place, I grab the puck and start skating toward him. The closer I get, the faster I go, using some of the stickhandling moves I’ve learned at practice to try to backhand it in the net. Brent anticipates my move and is able to get his glove on the puck for a save. Not a great start.
Mick is up next, making his way up the ice, and he does a nice little deke before putting it in. He raises his hand up in victory. A few kids whistle and shout in response and he bows before the small crowd. This guy could not be more annoying if he tried. He gives the puck a small tap in my direction so that it lands right by my stick and gives me a small smirk. I take the puck back to the branch thinking about how the only thing I want is to take that smirk off his face.
I start skating, my eyes focused on the net, knowing full well where the puck is simply by feel. Sometimes in practice our coach makes us close our eyes while we do drills for puck control. It’s always super frustrating at the time because you know you could probably do better if you could just open your eyes, but in this moment, I am happy for every minute of those drills. I should tell Coach that. Or write him a thank-you note.
Jay Versus the Saxophone of Doom Page 10
