Blazer Drive

by Sigmund Brouwer

  I allowed him to pull me away from Luke.

  Luke got to his feet and stared angrily at me. Neither of us said anything.

  Coach Price got between us.

  “Guys,” he said to the rest of the team, “five-minute break. Go for a light skate.”

  The other players slowly skated away.

  “What is wrong with you two?” Coach Price asked. “This isn’t kindergarten. You’re nearly grown men.”

  I opened my mouth to tell him that Luke had started it. Then I realized I would sound like a five-year-old. So I snapped my mouth shut. If Coach Price hadn’t figured out what had happened, he wasn’t going to listen to me anyway.

  Luke didn’t say anything either. He just stared at me, breathing heavy.

  “This is a Memorial Cup team,” Coach Price said, “not a Mickey Mouse outfit with no discipline. You’re my two best players. I need you. But nobody needs you bad enough to let you get away with this and wreck the rest of the team.”

  Coach Price waited for one of us to speak. He got more silence.

  “Here’s the deal,” he finally said. “Tonight, you two are going to meet somewhere. I don’t care where. I don’t care when. But you’re going to sit down and talk through whatever is eating at you both.”

  “Coach, I—” Luke began.

  “Cork it, Luke. Listen or leave the ice right now. If you leave, don’t come back.”

  By Luke’s face, I could tell he wanted to speak. But he held back.

  “Like I said, talk it through,” Coach said. “Without me. I’m not a babysitter. Understand?”

  Coach Price barked at me. “Ellroy. When? Where?”

  “McDonald’s,” I said after a few seconds. This wasn’t fair. It wasn’t my fault. But Coach was right. If we didn’t solve it, it would hurt the team. “The one down by the river. Six o’clock.”

  “You heard him, Zannetti? You’ll be there?”

  Luke nodded.

  “Good,” Coach Price said. “If you don’t get this stupidity straightened out, you’re bothoff the team. And remember, if you’re not part of the Blazers, you’re going to have a real tough time getting into the NHL.”

  Coach Price gave me one last look.

  “Which means, Ellroy,” he said, “if you two don’t solve this, no trip to California this weekend to play for the Sabres.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  I sure didn’t need more pressure as I walked through the McDonald’s parking lot to meet Luke at six o’clock. But there was a note in my back pocket. It had been under my windshield wiper when I left the Riverside Coliseum at the end of practice.

  Josh, I made some more calls today. There is another rancher who might be able to help us. I’ve got some other things to do, so I can’t wait for you right now. I know you don’t have a game tonight, so I hope you can meet me at 6:30. Take the Logan Lake exit off the Coke until it hits 97C south. I’ll be waiting at that intersection. We’ll talk to the rancher together. It’s important. x o x o x o—Steph

  On the bottom of the page, she had drawn a map for me. The Coke was short for the Coquihalla Highway, which went south from Kamloops to Vancouver. The Logan Lake exit was about a twenty-minute drive from Kamloops. From there I was to go west for about another fifteen minutes to reach Highway 97C where it turned south to Merritt.

  The part I liked best about the note was the x’s and o’s where she signed her name. I was pretty sure that meant “hugs and kisses.”

  The part I didn’t like was the timing. It was more than a half-hour drive from McDonald’s to the intersection to meet Stephanie. There was no way to reach her and let her know about my meeting with Luke. But if I didn’t meet with him, I was off the team. And if I was off the team, I wouldn’t be able to play in the NHL this weekend.

  I could think of only one solution.

  I pushed through the door into the usual noise of kids and lines at McDonald’s. I looked for Luke.

  No Luke. Plenty of other people and a big poster of Ronald McDonald. But no Luke.

  I looked at my watch. Six o’clock.

  At ten minutes after six, still no Luke. Even if I left now, I’d be ten or fifteen minutes late to meet Stephanie. I wondered what she had talked about with the rancher. I wondered if she would wait for me.

  I ordered and drank a chocolate milk-shake.

  Twenty minutes after six, still no Luke.

  I ordered and drank another chocolate milkshake. Just as I was throwing the cup into the garbage, Luke walked in, wearing his Kamloops Blazers team jacket.

  I didn’t look at my watch. I didn’t have to. I knew it was 6:30 because I’d been looking at my watch every thirty seconds.

  I had a choice. I could say something to him about making me wait. Or I could smile through my anger. Saying something to him would just make him defensive, and it wouldn’t change the fact that he was late. So, instead, I smiled.

  “Hey, Luke,” I said.

  “Whatever,” he said. No smile.

  I noticed he was wearing a baseball cap. If he thought it was cool to be bald like Michael Jordan, why was he covering his shaved head?

  I didn’t ask him that, though. I kept smiling. I needed a favor from him. The best I’d be able to do was meet Stephanie some time after seven o’clock. And only if Luke helped.

  “I know Coach Price wants us to talk,” I said. “Any chance we can do it while I’m driving?”

  “Where? Why?” he asked.

  I explained as much as I could.

  “Bloodlines and dead cows?” he said. “Forget it. And don’t expect us to talk this through either. I just came down here to tell you I don’t care whether we play for the team or not.”

  Something inside me snapped. This was the guy who had punched me. This was the guy who might cost me a trip to the NHL. This was the guy who now smirked at me because he was happy to be able to say no and make life difficult for me.

  I grabbed the front of his jacket with both hands. I yanked him toward me. I lifted him onto his tiptoes, surprised that he was lighter than I had expected.

  We were in our own private world among all the people around us.

  “Look,” I whispered between gritted teeth. “I’m about to stomp you good. We both know this is your fault. So if I’m going to go down anyway, I might as well make you pay.”

  Then I realized what I was doing. I was threatening to beat someone up. When I was fourteen, I’d gotten into a fight at school. I’d expected Dad to punish me for it. Talking to me later, though, Dad had not gotten angry at me; he’d been sad. He’d said that God had seen fit to put my soul into a body built stronger and faster than most others. It was not something to take pride in; it was simply the way I’d been born. He’d said it was a shame to take that gift and use it to hurt others. He’d also said that violence is something stupid people do because they can’t think of better solutions. Then Dad had walked out of my room and left me to think.

  I let go of Luke’s jacket.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “That wasn’t right. I just wish I knew what’s going through your head.”

  Luke stared at me for a few seconds. Shaved skull. Dark eyebrows. Dark eyes. He bit his lower lip.

  “You should have hit me,” he finally said. “I really don’t care about anything. And I wanted to be able to hate you.”

  His eyes got shiny. He turned his head away from me and started walking to the door.

  “Come on,” he said without looking back. “Let’s get in that stupid truck of yours.”

  I wasn’t sure. But it sounded as if he had started to cry.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Luke didn’t say anything as I pulled out of the parking lot. It was dark, but as we passed beneath a streetlight, I looked over. His face was turned away from me. He was leaning against the passenger door, the bill of his baseball cap pressed against the window.

  I didn’t know what to say. Coach Price had told us to talk it through. I had no idea what “it” was. Until a few mi
nutes earlier, I hadn’t even known that Luke wanted to hate

  me. I couldn’t figure out why. I’d never done anything to him.

  We traveled through town in silence. The highway climbed up the mountain and the lights of the city glowed below us. With the radio off, there was only the hum of tires and the whistle of wind against the speeding truck.

  I waited until we were on the Coquihalla Highway to speak.

  “Is it because I got the MVP last year?” I asked. It was the only thing I could figure.

  “Huh?” My voice had made him jump, like his mind was a million miles away.

  “Is that why you want to hate me?” I asked. “Is it because you didn’t win the MVP?”

  He laughed. It was a bitter sound. “I didn’t like it. But you deserved it. I might have been a better hockey player. But you helped the team more. Even I have to admit that.”

  “Oh,” I said. He’d just said he might have been a better hockey player. Like he wasn’t any more.

  “Do you hate me because you’re in a slump?” I’d said it. I’d put it out in the open.

  Said what the guys were saying behind his back.

  “I said I wanted to hate you. And yes, that’s part of it.”

  He sighed, loud enough to be heard above the wind. On both sides of the highway, the pine trees were dark outlines, like soldiers guarding the land.

  “You’re nice,” he said. “You go to church. You smile all the time. You don’t get mad at things. Even if you couldn’t play good hockey, people would like being around you. Me?”

  There was some silence before he started again.

  “Me. I always had hockey. Now it’s going away. It’s not fun to watch you get better and better and have people like you.”

  “What do you mean,” I asked slowly, “about your hockey going away?”

  He turned away again, a movement I caught out of the corner of my eye.

  “I’m real messed up, okay? Let’s leave it at that.”

  Messed up? I thought of how badly he had been playing. I thought of how slow and weak he had been on the ice. I thought of how light he had felt when I grabbed him by his jacket.

  Messed up? I didn’t know much about drugs, but I had to wonder if that’s what he meant.

  “You can get help,” I said, thinking if he wanted to explain, he would.

  “Tell you what,” he said, “let’s not talk anymore.”

  “But Coach Price—”

  “Yeah, yeah. Coach Price. Tomorrow, go ahead and tell him we talked it through. Tell him everything will be fine. And it will be. I promise I won’t give you any trouble. In McDonald’s, I found out I don’t have the energy to hate you.”

  He paused. His voice got a little stronger, as if he were grinning. “No, I changed my mind. I want to make a deal with you. Help me get through the season, and I’ll stop pushing you.”

  “Help you get through the season?” I repeated, confused.

  “Be a friend. Stick up for me. I can’t tell you how much I hate it when the guys bug me about my shaved head.”

  “Then why did you—”

  “Look, just make the deal.”

  “Sure,” I said. He shouldn’t have had to ask. We were on the same team.

  “Good. Now get us to this meeting with your girlfriend.”

  Girlfriend. I liked the sound of that.

  “I’ll sit in the truck and shut up,” he finished. “You won’t even know I’m around.”

  Trouble was, when we got there, Stephanie wasn’t around either.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The headlights of my truck illuminated a pile of rocks beside the stop sign. Had someone stacked them there? Stephanie?

  I let the truck idle and got out. A night breeze chilled me. The stars above were white dust in a black, black sky. The hills were dark. It was a lonely highway. It was a lonely intersection.

  The final rock on top of the pile held down a piece of paper.

  I grinned. Stephanie was pretty smart. I pulled out the paper and took it back to the truck. I switched on the dashboard light.

  “What is it?” Luke asked.

  I read it out loud, skipping the hugs and kisses part at the bottom. “Sorry we missed each other. Hope you are just late. If you get here by 7:30, go to the Belkie ranch. (Dan Belkie.) I should be there at least that long. Steph.”

  It was ten past seven. We had lots of time.

  Again, she had drawn a map with the note. I handed the map to Luke and left the dash light on as I started to drive.

  “Read out the directions as I drive,” I said.

  “Hugs and kisses?” he asked, reading the bottom of the note.

  “Yeah, yeah.” In my hurry, I’d forgotten it was there in her neat handwriting. “Just read the directions, will ya?”

  The driveway to the Belkie ranch was off a gravel road, up a hill, about fifteen miles from the intersection. As the headlights swept through the turn, I saw the entrance was marked by old wagon wheels and a large mailbox.

  Gravel and rocks bounced off the bottom of the truck. The driveway up to the ranch was narrow and twisted up the steep hill. Maybe I was going a little fast, especially for that kind of road. But it was a long way to the ranch house, and I wanted to get there soon. For some reason, I was nervous. Maybe because the ranch was so far away from town. Maybe because of the black night. Maybe because I had no idea what was happening.

  There was a light on in the kitchen of the ranch house. It was a long low house with a sidewalk that lead from the drive to the front door.

  I parked the truck. Luke waited inside.

  A border collie ran up to me as I stepped out. It sniffed at my pant legs. I scratched between its ears. Most farm dogs go crazy when strangers arrive. Not this one. It was friendly and followed me up the sidewalk.

  A single yard light threw a shadow ahead of me as I walked.

  I rang the doorbell. No one answered. I rang again. Still no answer.

  I walked back to the truck and opened the door.

  “Weird,” I said to Luke, standing outside. “She should be here. We didn’t see anyone come back out on the road.”

  “Unless her directions were bad. She is a girl.”

  He caught the look on my face. “Bad joke?”

  “Yup,” I said. “You mind waiting? I’m going to look around.”

  “Don’t have much else to do,” he said, slouching back against the seat. He was sounding almost human.

  I walked away from the house toward the barn, which was a couple of hundred yards away. As I walked farther from the house, it got darker and darker. The collie stayed with me, running little circles.

  I heard the low moaning of cattle in pens on the other side of the barn. As I got closer, I heard voices.

  Just as I reached the barn, an outside light switched on. I jumped. Then I saw that it was a security light rigged to go on when it senses movement.

  The light showed a set of wide barn doors, half open.

  “Hello?” I called out as I walked up to the doors. “Hello?”

  I didn’t want anyone to think I was sneaking around.

  I peeked inside. A big man in coveralls stepped toward me. I jumped again.

  “Hello,” I said. “Are you Dan Belkie?”

  “Long ways from the beaten path, son,” the man said. He had wild bushy hair. His hands and wrists stuck out a couple of inches from his shirt sleeves. He wore big work boots.

  “I’m sorry to bother you,” I said. “I have a friend named Stephanie Becker. She told me to meet her here. She was going to talk to Dan Belkie.”

  Another man joined us. He was much smaller than the wild-haired guy. He wore tan pants and a sweater. “I’m Dan Belkie. This is my foreman, Jim Cowle.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said. “My name is Josh Ellroy.”

  I stuck out my hand. Dan Belkie stepped forward and shook it. The big man didn’t.

  “Ellroy,” he said. “As in Ryan Ellroy?”

  “Yes, s
ir. He’s my father.”

  “And quite the rancher. Pleased to meet you. What can I help you with? You were talking about a girl?”

  “She told me she was coming here to meet you. Have you seen her?”

  The big man quietly moved around behind me. I didn’t like that. But it seemed rude to say anything. What was he going to do? Jump me? Dumb thought. Even so, the skin on my neck prickled.

  “Haven’t seen any girl,” Dan Belkie said. His voice was soft. It sounded educated, with an English accent. “You say her name was Stephanie?”

  “Yes.” I looked past Dan Belkie. With the big man out of the doorway, I could see a little more of the inside of the barn. I saw the bed of a pickup truck. In it was a large basket, big enough for two or three people to stand inside. Some ropes hung over the side of the basket.

  “Maybe she’s playing a joke on you,” Belkie said. “It’s a shame you had to drive all the way out here by yourself.”

  “Actually,” I said as I jerked a thumb back over my shoulder at my parked truck, “I have a friend with me.”

  “Oh.” Belkie shook his head. For a second, it seemed like he was looking at the big man behind me. “Well, then at least you’ll have company on your way back.”

  “You’re sure,” I said, “that Stephanie never made it here?”

  “Young man, are you accusing me of lying?”

  I felt my ears turn red. “I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just that—”

  I stopped. If he was lying, I wouldn’t get anywhere like this. If he wasn’t lying, I would just be making a fool of myself.

  “It must be a joke,” I said. “Stephanie lives on a ranch too. She’s probably with her friends right now, killing herself with laughter.”

  Dan Belkie put his hand on my shoulder and guided me back toward the house. We walked side by side. When I headed back to my truck, he dropped his hand.

  I can take a hint. He wanted me to leave.

  “Well, sir,” I said as we reached the truck, “I’m sorry to have bothered you.”

  “No bother,” he said. “Have a safe drive back. These mountain roads can be dangerous.”

  I felt a chill run through me. And it wasn’t from the cold mountain air. It was from the way he said it.