by David Skuy
“With my luck, he’ll be in my classes,” Charlie said.
They caught up with the girls.
“Sorry,” Julia blurted. “I totally lost it.”
“Jake can have that effect on people,” Pudge said. Charlie and Zachary laughed.
“I shouldn’t have done it, though. It just gave them more ammunition.” She was upset. “What are Emily and Trisha doing hanging out with those guys? I guess I overestimated them.”
“Trisha didn’t look too impressed,” Charlie said, and immediately got the feeling he hadn’t said the right thing. “Anyway, are you … um … okay?” he said to Julia.
“I’m fine,” she said. “We’ll see you guys later.”
The girls walked away. Scott and Nick ran up behind them.
“We had to exchange cupcake recipes with Jake and Liam,” Scott said. “Is everything cool?”
Everything was definitely not cool.
16
TWO STEPS FORWARD …
Charlie’s shoes squeaked with each step. They were still wet from the soaking they had gotten last night coming home from Pudge’s. He was supposed to meet Pudge early this morning and sneak into school to check on the plastic, but he had forgotten to reset his alarm. Breakfast had been a banana and a piece of untoasted bread, followed by a mad sprint. He was also supposed to speak to the committee about getting the deposit for the ice time. They were already late and the rink manager had sent him a stern email.
He knocked twice, waited three seconds, and knocked once more. The door opened, and Pudge poked his head out.
“I knew you’d be late. I’m surprised you actually remembered the secret knock.”
Charlie flicked his eyebrows and held out his hand where he had written the knocking pattern with a pen. Pudge pushed open the door.
“I came in with the janitors,” Pudge whispered. “I told them I was presenting to the committee and must have got the time wrong.”
“That’s not a total lie,” Charlie whispered back. “You are presenting later.”
They began their way up the stairs to the roof. At the first landing, Pudge glared and pointed at Charlie’s feet. Charlie held his hands out apologetically. He knew his shoes were ridiculous. Then he got an inspiration. He took the shoes off. Pudge flashed a thumbs-up.
When they reached the door, Charlie put his shoes back on. He opened it with the key Dalton had given him, and they went outside. The sun had just begun to peek out from behind the clouds. The warmth felt good.
“I almost forgot what the sun looked like,” Charlie said, holding his face up to it.
“Let’s tan after. Matt told me what to do after school yesterday.”
“When did he get sick?”
“Not sure. I called last night, and his mom said he was down for the count. Anyway, check the edges and see if any water is running under the plastic, or if there are any holes. We can move the sandbags or adjust the plastic around if we need to.”
“I’m on it, Sergeant.”
They exchanged salutes.
Charlie inspected the plastic for any signs of leakage. He felt underneath the plastic and, with great satisfaction, found the roof was dry. The plastic sheeting was doing its job.
“All good at my end,” Charlie said.
“Other than some bird poop, we’re good here too,” Pudge said.
Charlie looked around. “They should set up a roof-top patio where we could hang out. The view is killer.”
“Not sure it’s in the school’s best interests to have Scott and Nick up here on a regular basis.”
“Wise words, Sergeant.”
“Speaking of wise words, we should probably skedaddle before we’re spotted.”
“Sergeant, Phase I of the mission is complete,” Charlie said, once they’d made it back to the main floor. “Phase II is far tougher, however. In fact, it’s a suicide mission. Our objective is to convince Melissa and A.J. and the rest of the committee to front us the money for the ice deposit.”
“Can’t live forever,” Pudge said. “Onward.”
Charlie opened the door to the cafeteria. The committee members sat at the far end behind two tables pushed together, and two students were presenting to them. A few others were sitting off to the side, waiting for their turn. As they walked down the stairs, Julia rose slightly from her seat and waved. There was one spot next to her. Charlie felt his throat tighten.
“I’ll go around to the other side,” Pudge said.
“Hi, Julia. How’s it going?” Charlie said, trying to sound relaxed.
She looked up at the clock. “Don’t tell me you forgot the time.”
“We had to check on the leakage situation,” Charlie whispered.
“And?” she asked.
“So far so good.”
“Not so good here. Melissa and A.J. are on the warpath. I’ve picked up that the fundraising is not going well. The parents had a meeting here last night, and apparently a bunch of them don’t want to waste money on temporary repairs.” She paused and smiled. “Anyway, thanks for coming.”
“I said I would.”
“Next is the skate-a-thon. Who’s presenting for that?” Melissa asked.
“I guess we’re up,” Charlie said.
“I have Julia Chow and Charlie Joyce and … Anthony Moretti,” A.J. read.
Charlie almost laughed. It was weird to hear Pudge’s real name.
“So what’s the status?” Melissa asked.
“We have rented the ice,” Julia said. “We do need some help from the committee for the deposit, though. We’ll get it back once we collect the pledges. The manager is asking for it up front. It’s two hundred and fifty dollars.”
A.J. had been chewing on her pen. She tossed it to the table and said, “We are trying to raise money, not give it away.”
“It’s just a deposit,” Charlie jumped in. “In a week, we’ll have it.”
“Maybe,” A.J. said.
Melissa was shaking her head. “Every group is asking for money to buy this or that. You guys need to get with the program. We get money, not give it. No wonder this is turning out to be a disaster. People think it’s a fundraiser for everyone else …”
“How is the skate-a-thon looking?” Dalton interrupted.
“We have about twenty commitments,” Julia said, “and I think we can easily triple that once word gets out.”
“How much did the ice cost?” Dalton asked. “The Ice Palace is expensive.”
“We didn’t exactly get the Ice Palace,” Charlie said. “It turned out to be booked. We were able to get cheap ice at Humberside Arena.”
“Humberside?” A.J. barked. “Never heard of it.”
“It’s not that far,” Charlie said. “We took a bus and it didn’t take too long … an hour or so …” His voiced trailed off.
“We could use a school bus for everyone,” Dalton said. “That would make things easier.”
“I don’t want to waste a bus on this,” A.J. said.
“It would be helpful. Humberside is quite a distance,” Dalton said.
Charlie loved the idea of a school bus. “How much would a bus cost?” he said.
“The local bus company is contributing free bus trips for the fundraising. But we only get ten, so we have to be careful when we use them,” Dalton said.
“We might need two buses,” Julia said tentatively.
“This is becoming too much,” A.J. said.
“How about we take care of the deposit,” Charlie said. “Then could it work?”
Melissa and A.J. exchanged a glance. A.J. shrugged. “I don’t love this idea, but if they take responsibility for the cost of the ice, then okay.”
“That means you cover the deposit and the full cost of the ice,” Melissa said. “If you lose money, we’re not responsible.”
“We won’t lose money,” Charlie responded. “I mean, the entire cost is about eight hundred dollars, and if each kid raises only fifty dollars we’ll be fine.”
“And if you o
nly get ten kids raising ten dollars each, you won’t be,” A.J. said.
“I think it’s a good compromise,” Dalton said.
The other members nodded.
“Then we can have the buses?” Charlie said.
“Yes,” A.J. said sharply.
“When is the skate-a-thon scheduled?” Melissa said.
“This Friday,” Julia said. “Charlie spoke to the vice-principal and she said the participants could have the day off school. We just need parent/guardian permission forms.”
“Okay. Arrange with Dalton about the buses,” Melissa said.
“We can talk after,” Dalton said to them.
“Thank you,” Julia said.
A.J. was scanning a list of names. “I think we have the bake sale report next. Are you guys here?”
A few kids stood up.
“I guess we should go,” Charlie said to Julia and Pudge.
They left the cafeteria.
“That A.J. is no skate-a-thon lover,” Charlie said, when they were outside. “What luck to get those buses, though. I didn’t think we had a prayer.”
“The buses?” Julia snapped. “What about the money? We need two hundred fifty by tonight or we lose the ice, and then we’re on the hook if we don’t get enough pledges.”
“I can cover the deposit,” Charlie said. “I was saving money for a new long board. The roofing supplies took a chunk, but I still have about one hundred and fifty. If you guys can cover the rest … ?”
“We’ll go halves,” Pudge said. “I have money from working at my dad’s restaurant.”
Julia sighed. “I have some money too,” she said. “Alex, Rebecca and I ran a day camp this summer for some neighbourhood kids. We’ll go thirds.”
“Then it’s a deal,” Charlie said. “Humberside skate-a-thon, or bust.”
“I like the first option,” Pudge said.
Charlie laughed, but without enthusiasm. If this was a bust, not only would they look dumb, but it might cost them a lot of money — and it would be goodbye long board. But there probably wasn’t anything to worry about, he thought. They had twenty kids already, and a day off school was sure to be a draw. He’d personally already raised seventy-five dollars in pledges, and Pudge told him he was up to a hundred. That was almost the entire deposit already. He was worrying about nothing.
But a nagging feeling kept the butterflies in his stomach going. The fundraising seemed like a mouse running on a wheel — lots of activity, but it wasn’t going anywhere.
17
LINEMATES
Charlie bent over and stickhandled rapidly for a few metres, and then from the blue line launched a floating wrist shot at the net, caught easily by Cassie. Charlie looked fretfully at the dressing room door. It remained unopened. Where were they?
Cummings blew her whistle from centre, and Charlie joined the group of girls who had surrounded her; and it did not take the girls long to make it clear they were definitely not impressed with his friends’ tardiness.
“Is your crew busy fundraising?” Alexandra asked.
He knew sarcasm when he heard it.
“I’m sure they’re doing something wonderful for the school,” she continued.
Julia’s eyes narrowed.
“I think they got held up … or something,” Charlie offered.
“They should come on time, don’t you think?” Alexandra pressed.
“We may as well get started,” Charlie said to Cummings. “They don’t need to do the skating drills.”
“Of course not,” Alexandra said. “But we girls need all the skating practice we can get.”
“I didn’t mean that,” Charlie said.
Cummings interrupted. “I’m not particularly impressed by some of the players’ apparent lack of commitment, but it makes sense to run through some warm-up drills. Then I want a scrimmage. I might be able to organize an exhibition game on Saturday against Flemington and it would be nice for linemates to play with each other first.”
Charlie’s heart did a flip-flop. The Rebels had a practice.
“Do you know what time the game is?” he blurted.
“Their coach said he had ice at nine in the morning.” She paused. “Is that a problem?”
“Kind of,” he said. “I can’t do it — and neither can Pudge, Zachary, Matt, Scott or Nick. We have a practice.”
Cummings pursed her lips and seemed about to ask another question, when she raised her whistle and let out a short blast. “Let’s line it up on the goal line,” she said.
As they skated over, Alexandra asked, “Can’t you guys miss one practice?”
Julia and Rebecca glided over, with Emily and Trisha trailing behind.
“We … um … uh …” He had a feeling they were not going to be happy with the answer. “We lost our last game, so … Hilton won’t be happy.” The truth was the boys would never miss a practice to play co-ed hockey. They weren’t that stoked to be playing in the first place.
The girls stared at him for a few moments and skated off.
* * *
By the time the boys got there, the skating drills were done and they’d spent a few minutes doing two-on-ones with Cassie in net. Cummings blew her whistle and called them to the bench.
“I told you this ice time was given to us by a friend of mine. The team he coaches agreed to let us practise. I am disappointed that you do not respect their sacrifice enough to get here on time,” Cummings said quietly.
The guys lowered their gaze to the ice.
Cummings turned to address the rest of the players. “It also doesn’t sound as if we can get it together for an exhibition game.”
Pudge shot Charlie a questioning look. Charlie shook his head.
“In the meantime, I want to announce the lines, so you can at least get some practice time together,” she continued. “Remember we need three girls on the ice at all times.” She held up a whiteboard.
A smile spread across her face. “We’re not at a funeral, people. Don’t take things too seriously. This is fun — it’s hockey. Let’s put the negatives behind us, and come together to win this tournament. With the talent on this team we can do it — and win a lot of money for the school.”
Her attempt to lighten the mood fell flat. Charlie tried to help out. “Let’s do this, Terrence Falls,” he said, slapping the ice with his stick.
All that was missing were the crickets chirping.
Emily broke the silence. “Coach Cummings, why is Trisha on the wing?” she said. “She’s a centre.”
“We’ll try things this way, and then make adjustments if need be,” Cummings said.
Emily scowled. “I don’t think it’s right that the boys get to be centre, as if none of the girls can play. Trisha’s the best player on the team, and you put her on right wing. It’s not fair.”
Trisha looked straight at Cummings. “I’ve always been centre,” she said. “I’ve never played wing in my life.”
“I can play the wing,” Charlie said. “It’s all the same to me.”
The girls were not satisfied.
“Julia is a centre too,” Alexandra said, “and Zachary is a winger, so …” She shook her head, and leaned on the butt end of her stick.
Zachary tried a joke. “I’m just happy to be allowed to play after being late.”
The girls were in no mood to laugh.
“You’ve seen Trisha play,” Emily said. “She scored fifty-two goals last year in Bantam. We need her at centre.”
“We need Julia at centre,” Alexandra said firmly.
“I’m okay at the wing,” Julia said. “It’s … fine.”
Charlie didn’t believe her. He was pretty sure she was not happy either. Then he noticed how Trisha, Emily and Li were standing together on their coach’s left, and the rest of the girls were grouped on the other side. He knew those three hung out together. It occurred to him there was more going on here than who played centre.
The smile had long since disappeared from Cumming�
��s face. “I think some of you have forgotten a simple rule in hockey. The coach decides the lineup. I welcome you to approach me after practice to discuss anything, including your positions, but remember I make the decisions. Second, my decision to put the boys at centre is based on the reality that Charlie, Zachary and Matt are bigger and stronger physically. It’s not about skill level. I think the other teams will put a boy at centre, and we can’t get pushed around there. Trisha and Julia are terrific players, and I expect a lot from them.”
She pointed her stick to one end. “Cassie, you set up down there. The other team has to hit the post to score. Charlie and Zachary’s lines will start. We’ll rotate the lines, with Zachary coming off first. We’ll do the same for the defence. Nick and Michelle and Pudge and Emily will start. Let’s move it. We’ve wasted enough time already.” She gave her whistle a blast and skated off.
Charlie was impressed. He figured Cummings for a softie because she was always so nice to the students. But she had delivered that in no-nonsense language, and she was right.
Charlie lined up at centre with Zachary. “That wasn’t the most relaxing moment,” he said.
Zachary laughed. “Next time I make a joke remind me that I’m not funny.”
Matt joined them. “Which one of us is big and strong again?”
“It ain’t Charlie,” Zachary said. “We know Emily can take him.” He had that lopsided grin of his firmly in place.
“Who said you’re not funny?” Charlie deadpanned, and all three of them had a good chuckle.
“You guys just take this so seriously.” Alexandra’s eyes were blazing. “Everything’s a joke to you, including this team. And obviously the Rebels think it’s a joke to play with girls.”
Charlie finally ran out of patience with her. “We’re here to win the tournament for the school, no different than you. There was no dissing.”
“Right. I must have totally misunderstood,” Alexandra said.
“Give it rest, Ms Drama Queen,” Trisha said, from her left. “I’m finding it hard to concentrate.”
“I’m not sure I asked for your opinion, Superstar,” Alexandra shot back.
“That’s Ms Superstar to you.”
