“Sure,” said Sid. “You can even shoot rifles over there, and play drums, but—”
“Umm, anyone know how to juggle?”
Mouth Guard was back, and his arms were full, too—with a very odd assortment of items. He had juggling pins, a heavy-looking sandbag, a long rope, a bag of chalk, and a small ladder with only five rungs.
“Whaaat?” Mouth Guard said, smiling. “The guard there said I could borrow whatever I wanted.”
Bond rolled her eyes. “So you took everything?”
“No, no, this’ll be great,” Sid said as he wriggled himself into a kilt and slipped his arms into a bright red coat. “Playing baseball has helped me a lot with hockey. You don’t always need a stick and a puck to train.”
“Fun!” said Swift, excited for their next competition.
“I’m in!” Edge cheered as he tossed Lucas a red coat with gold buttons.
“I don’t want to play a little kid’s game!” Mouth Guard whined. With an oversized coat and his hat on crooked, he did look a bit like a toddler, but no one was going to point that out.
“You’re the one who found the chalk,” Swift said matter-of-factly. “You don’t want to get any better?”
“No-n-n-no,” Mouth Guard stuttered. “Well, yeah, but . . .”
“We’re all going to do it,” said Edge, delighted by their new training plan.
Sid was on the ground, busy with the huge piece of chalk. He’d found a long platform-like area where the cannons were rolled out, and on the smooth stone surface, he was drawing what had to be the world’s largest game of . . . hopscotch.
“Who wants a turn?” he asked as he finished his twenty-seventh hopscotch box. The boxes led off in all directions, but that’s how Sid had intended it. Excited, he moved back to the beginning. From there, they’d leap, hop, and dance their way through the game—like soldiers running through a mess of tires.
Swift was right behind Sid for the first run, followed by Edge, Lucas, Bond, and Mouth Guard.
Somehow, as he had on the stairs, Sid seemed to know exactly what he was doing. He flew across the board, hitting each box separately: first the left foot touching down, then the right foot crossing over to land in the next box, then back in the other direction.
The Ice Chips weren’t quite so graceful. Swift did okay (she often practised this kind of thing in track), but Edge got confused and leaped the wrong way, crashing into Lucas (and Lucas’s elbow) in mid-flight. They collided with a smack, and a moment later, they were both on the ground in a heap. But at least they were laughing.
The next challenge belonged to Lucas, but he kind of regretted it once they got started.
Sid was the first to hold the ladder upright, as Lucas had suggested, grasping the top of it because it wasn’t leaning on anything. Then, using balance and strength, he climbed almost to the top rung and back down, with the ladder hardly even moving.
The others followed and did okay, but Lucas got only as high as the second rung—it was harder than he’d thought!
“You don’t like losing.” Sid smiled sympathetically in Lucas’s direction. “Neither do I, but that’s why we keep practising!”
Luckily, Edge was already in position for the next game: the sandbag.
Chapter 13
Edge’s heart was beating wildly.
Bond had tied one end of the rope around the sandbag and the other around Edge’s waist. The idea was to have the Chips drag the bag behind them to build up their strength.
“From here to the wall, okay?” Swift said, getting ready to time her friend with her comm-band.
Edge had to work hard, but he did fine. Then Sid did well, as usual. Mouth Guard put some of his extra energy into it and was surprisingly fast. Lucas was in the middle of the pack—but he felt good. Then it was Bond’s turn.
Bond was bent so far forward, she looked as if her nose would scrape the ground. The strain was incredible. She was sweating hard. Every few seconds, she stopped, caught her breath, grunted, and then again pushed as hard as she could with her feet.
“Go, Bond!” Swift shouted, looking at her watch. Bond was slow, but she was doing it!
“It’s . . . so . . . heavy!” she squealed between gasps for air.
If she could do this, Bond thought, then she’d definitely force herself to tell the Chips her secret when they got home. Talking would be hard, but she knew she had to get rid of that other horrible heavy weight she’d been dragging around.
“Remember—you’re smaller than the other players on the ice,” Sid called after her, still a little out of breath from his own iron man pull. “If you use that, and really crouch down in the corners, they’ll never get the puck away from you.”
Bond tried to get even lower, ignoring the burning pain in her legs.
When she finally collapsed against the wall, she was smiling.
“What’s up next?” Sid asked excitedly, scooping up one of the juggling pins and tossing it to Mouth Guard.
“You juggle, too?” Lucas asked. Is there no end to this kid’s skills?
“Only with my stick and a puck,” Sid said, tossing Mouth Guard the other two pins.
Mouth Guard now had all three pins in his hands, but all he did was toss the blue one up a few times and then catch it again.
“You guys know Paul Kariya?” Sid asked.
“Of course,” Swift said. “He’s in the Hall of Fame—but he quit hockey to become a surfer!”
“Actually, he didn’t,” corrected Lucas, who’d learned a lot about different players as he copied pictures of them into his journal. “He’s in the Hall of Fame, yeah, but he quit hockey because of too many hits to the head—too many concussions. Kariya said he had to retire.”
Sid looked at them oddly.
“What do you mean? Kariya’s not retired,” Sid corrected the corrector. “He only started with the Anaheim Ducks last year!”
“Kariya . . . he’s just starting out?” Mouth Guard asked, confused, but Bond hip-checked him from the side, forcing him to close his mouth.
The year! thought Lucas, wishing that he could pull out his journal without being caught by Sid. If Kariya just started playing with the Ducks last year—that means we’re in . . . 1996?
“Anyway, Kariya says juggling’s great for hand–eye coordination,” said Sid, not noticing the bizarre looks the Chips were shooting each other. “And that’s what makes a top scorer, right?”
“I can score, I just can’t pass,” Mouth Guard said without any insecurity. He tossed up a red pin and then a blue one, but they just crossed and fell to the ground. There was no way he’d ever get all three dancing in the air.
“Can I try?” asked Swift. Before she’d started hockey and track, she said, her parents had put her and her sister through rhythmic gymnastics.
Sid and the Chips watched as Swift tossed one of the pins into the air, quickly followed by a second, then a third. They would fly up, spin, and come down, and in a flash, she would catch them perfectly and send them flying again.
Magic, Lucas thought. Pure magic.
“You have to throw the pin into the right spot—that’s the trick. Don’t worry about catching it,” Swift said as her eyes moved back and forth, watching the pins. “If you’ve thrown it right, the pin will be there when you grab for it.”
“Just like a pass in hockey,” added Sid. “You’re supposed to think about where that puck needs to be. You shoot ahead of your guy—into the future—and if you’ve done it right, the player will be there to grab it.”
At the word “future” Lucas shuddered, but Sid didn’t seem to notice.
“You mean I don’t shoot to a person?” asked Mouth Guard. “I shoot to a place?”
“YES!” the other Ice Chips all yelled at once.
The Ice Chips had just returned everything they’d borrowed from the Citadel—the clothes and coats, the ladder and sandbag—when a light rain began to fall. The guard who accepted the clothes said he’d seen flashes in the distance—lightning—but the
kids didn’t think they’d heard any thunder yet.
“It looks like the storm really is going to hit us again—maybe it never really left,” Swift said as she pulled a stray strand of hair from her face. She was looking up at the darkening sky, and Lucas could tell she wished she could see more of the water, to watch the storm roll in. “This is going to be a big one.”
“This isn’t Halifax’s first hurricane, but it’s best to be careful,” Sid’s mom agreed.
“Just one more run?” Sid pleaded, tightening the strings on his hood. “It’ll be fast, I promise.”
“Aw, come on—really?” Mouth Guard said, groaning.
“I’ll die!” said Swift.
Sid laughed. “No, you guys can do this.”
And off he headed, with the five Ice Chips in tow, bolting toward a far corner of the fort. There was an opening there, but it was almost too dark to see anything at the bottom of it.
Still smiling, Sid led them into the darkness.
He danced down the uneven stone steps and the Chips did the same, all the way to the bottom.
It was dark. It was damp. It was dank, Lucas thought—a word his bompa sometimes used to describe an old abandoned garage at the end of the gravel road near the cottage.
“Okay, so here I race to the top as fast as I can, then I come down skipping two steps at a time, then up again backwards and back down skipping three—and I keep going until I’m about to fall over,” Sid said. “Who’s with me?”
The Ice Chips slowly raised their hands.
“Okay, go!” Sid shouted and took off, fast.
Up the uneven stone steps the Chips and their new trainer flew. They reached the top and leaped down two at a time, then raced up again, then back down. Again and again.
Lucas’s lungs were burning. He knew he could make it to the bottom once more, but that was it.
The others clearly felt the same. When Lucas made it down again, Swift was there at the base of the dark staircase, crouched over and gasping. Edge’s face was as red as a stoplight, and Bond was holding her sides. Mouth Guard, thankfully, was silent, swallowing air like it was life-giving water.
Lucas looked around, but with the storm rolling in overhead and no light on, he couldn’t make out much of what was in the shadows surrounding them.
Then they heard a clink. The sound of a door opening. A door creaking. Footsteps, like old leather shoes on a hidden staircase.
And then a moan.
“AAAAAAAOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYY!”
The Grey Lady!
Instantly, Lucas’s lungs filled with fresh oxygen. His legs found new muscles. His boots moved like they were tied to rocket blasters.
The Chips flew up the stone steps so fast that Lucas wondered if they’d ever be able to stop.
Up, up, up they ran, into the rain and wind that was now swirling through the courtyard. When they were far enough away, they collapsed, their hearts pounding in their ears.
But where are Sid and Mouth Guard?
They weren’t with them. And Lucas hadn’t seen them running up the steps . . .
He quickly sat up and looked toward the staircase. Nothing.
He waited. Still nothing.
Could they still be down . . . there?
Just then, the kids saw something moving above the opening to the staircase—something round.
It was bobbing, rising slowly . . . and it had a big C on it—for the Montreal Canadiens! It was Sid’s baseball cap, on top of Sid’s head. He was walking up the stairs toward them!
And he was smiling—and moaning . . .
“AAAAAAAOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYY!”
Lucas’s heart had skipped a beat. Edge looked angry, and Bond just rolled her eyes.
And then another loud, rolling sound floated up from the bottom of the staircase . . .
PPPPFFFFWWWWHHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEET!!!!!
Chapter 14
“MOUTH GUARD!” the Chips all yelled at once, their voices rising and falling like trombones. Their fart-throwing teammate was now bounding up the stairs behind Sid, laughing his head off.
“That Grey Lady has some serious gas!” Mouth Guard snorted.
“That’s so rude!” shouted Swift, trying to keep in a giggle.
“And mean!” added Edge. He was laughing so hard he was crying.
Lucas was about to say something, too, but he was interrupted—by the sudden blast of an explosion!
As fast as they could, the Chips all moved to cover their ears. But that single blast was the only one.
Then the smell of gunpowder came floating through the air.
And the sound of . . . bagpipes?
“Ahhh!” Sid yelled. “The Citadel fires its cannon at noon! I’M LATE FOR THE SKATE!”
Sid’s parents had already put Taylor into her car seat, but they didn’t know what to do with the other kids’ stuff.
“It’s okay—go!” said Lucas, not wanting to slow Sid down. “We’re going to find someone at the Five Fishermen restaurant. We’ll run down the hill and meet you at the bottom!”
“If you don’t mind bringing our sticks and things down for us,” Swift added, winking at Taylor through the window.
“We’ll be fast,” Edge said with a proud smile. “We’ve been training.”
The Five Fishermen, they’d seen on their way up, was across the street from the big arena where Sid was about to skate. While Edge had docked the boat, Captain Brannen had told him that he ate lunch there every day. Swift had decided that was their only option: find Brannen, and then find their way back to Riverton. Last time, they’d landed near a rink and had leaped back home after skating as hard as they could. This time, Brannen’s boat seemed like their best choice.
Sid jumped into the back seat beside Taylor just as Lucas and his teammates took off running.
Tired but determined, the Chips sped down the hill as the rain started to fall harder and harder. Halfway down, Lucas slipped on the mud and fell on his butt. Leaning in over his shoulder, Bond reached out her arm to help him up.
“I guess now isn’t a good time to explain?” she said over the howling wind.
“We aren’t sure how to get home from here, if that’s what you’re asking,” Lucas said, wiping a splash of mud from his cheek. “Now you know as much as we do.”
“Are you ready for your rematch tomorrow?” Sid asked with a smile. “Mouth Guard said something about it.” He was rushing, but he still wanted to say goodbye.
The five Chips were beside him, standing under an awning in front of the blue-glass entrance of the big arena, taking their things out of the van as fast as they could.
“Sid, let’s get moving,” his dad said. “I know you like to step onto the ice last, but you don’t want to be too late.”
“Yeah, I know,” Sid said, hoisting his hockey bag onto his shoulder. “Just one more thing.”
Lucas was about to put his helmet back on, to protect his head from the rain that was now falling in big, heavy drops just beyond the awning, when Sid stepped up to him and punched him in the arm.
“You know,” Sid said, “if you’re in better shape than the other players, it’ll show in your game. And you’re good, I can see it. Keep training.”
All Lucas felt at that moment was exhausted—and wet—but he hoped what Sid was saying was true . . . or could be true.
Then Sid shot Bond a big smile. “And you—even if you don’t have the other players’ natural skills, you can always make something happen on the ice if you work hard enough. That’s what I try to do.”
As Sid waved to the others and moved toward the doors, Bond just looked down at the sidewalk. She was embarrassed and didn’t want to tell the other Ice Chips why. Only Mouth Guard knew her secret. But soon, the rest of her teammates would, too.
Mouth Guard started gushing the moment their new friend was out of sight. “Sid’s awesome! What a coach! He even let us shoot on his basement net when we were at his house . . .”
T
he Chips were now hurrying down Carmichael Street in the rain, on their way to the Five Fishermen.
“Well, I guess I shot on the net, but Bond shot on Sid’s parents’ laundry machine,” Mouth Guard said.
“I didn’t try to shoot the dryer!” Bond yelled, gently jabbing her elbow into Mouth Guard’s ribs. “Sid had taught me how to flick my wrist, and then the puck just flew!”
“She even left a big black mark on it!” Mouth Guard laughed, giving Lucas an image of an old beat-up dryer full of little black dents—an image that somehow felt familiar . . .
When the Ice Chips finally reached the stone-and-clapboard restaurant, they noticed that the storm was again wreaking havoc in the city. The trees in the park across Argyle Street were now swaying back and forth like dandelions—some were almost bent in half! The gutters along the sidewalk had become streams, and cars were plowing into puddles as their drivers tried to push their way through.
“Is that . . . part of a roof?” Bond asked, pointing to a chunk of dark shingles that had just blown into the park. She was holding on to her helmet as though the wind might blow it off. Underneath it, her braids were flying around like windsocks.
“We have to get more bottled water and bread—more supplies!” a man yelled to a woman as the two of them—one with giant boots and the other with an inside-out umbrella—went splashing past.
“We told Sid’s parents we’d take cover in the restaurant until this was over,” said Swift, feeling guilty that they’d somehow brought Bond and Mouth Guard into this storm with them. “We’d better get in there—fast!”
But they couldn’t get into the restaurant—no one could. A sign outside the tall historic building said it didn’t open until 4 p.m.!
“They’re not even open at lunchtime?! But Captain Brannen—” Edge started to say, confused.
Lucas was tucking himself into the arch of the doorway, unzipping his backpack, and hurriedly fishing out his journal.
The wind was turning the pages for him as he searched—the pages that had finally dried out—and soon Lucas had what he was looking for: a drawing of a beat-up clothes dryer.
The Ice Chips and the Haunted Hurricane Page 6
