by David Skuy
“Maybe I can help.”
Charlie gasped. Zachary stood at the door and winked at his friends.
Everyone began talking at once.
“Hold on a sec,” Scott said over the noise. “Let’s make one thing clear. I’m not sharing my sandwich with Zachary.”
Zachary sat down at the table. “I got to thinking. Like Charlie said, the Snow Birds are stacked, and ice time will be scarce. My dad called Dunn last night and he said I could try out. I figured I’d play a ton with the Hawks — and keep you guys out of trouble.”
Zachary’s arrival lifted all their spirits and they joked around as usual all the way to the arena. Charlie laughed at everything; he couldn’t help himself. His dream team was actually happening. Three days ago he wasn’t going to be able to play at all. Now he was playing AAA with all his friends.
* * *
When they got to the rink, Charlie noticed the Hawks only had one dressing room.
“Looks like we’re all in room seven,” Charlie said. “I wonder why we’re all together?”
“Guess the coach is trying to foster team spirit,” Scott said.
They walked down the stairs and along the narrow corridor leading to the dressing rooms. Charlie went in first. He saw a large pile of cardboard boxes at the far end of the room, with dozens of sticks leaning against them. The players were sitting quietly, still in street clothes.
Charlie sat next to Christopher and Robert. “Why aren’t we getting ready?”
Robert shrugged. “Coach Shaw told us to sit tight and wait. That was ten minutes ago.” Charlie counted the players in the room: fifteen skaters plus two goalies, Simon and the kid who’d impressed him last tryout, Martin. “Where are the rest of the guys?” he said.
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Christopher said.
Zachary caught his eye. “What’s the story?”
“Coach told us to chill,” Charlie said.
“Why?”
“No clue.”
They didn’t have long to wait. The next moment the door flung open. Mike stormed in, followed by his father and Coach Shaw.
Mike walked to the back, grabbed a stick, banged it on the floor a few times, and then leaned on it to test the flex.
“You’re in trouble now, Simon. You won’t even see the pucks when I fire them at you with this howitzer.”
“That’s not fair, dude. You already got a rocket,” Simon said seriously.
Mike laughed. “Life’s not fair, Si. Let’s get out there and start shootin’, Dad.”
“Hold on a minute, Mike,” Dunn said. “Sit down and let me talk to the team.”
“Cool,” he said, flexing the stick again.
“Boys, I’m a guy that makes quick decisions. I go with my gut. That’s what’s taken me to the top in the business world.” He paused to look the players over. “I made the cuts last night. I saw the players I liked. The guys who didn’t measure up …” He shrugged. “Too bad for them. You wanna play elite hockey, you gotta have passion. Some of the guys I cut were good players — talented, solid skaters.”
He thumped his fist to his chest. “What didn’t they have, Mikey?”
“Heart. They got no heart.”
“Good answer. Hockey’s about guts, second effort, intimidation, being tougher than the other guy. Hit ’em first, I always say. We’re going to punish the other teams, make them afraid to even come out on the ice. Wear ’em down and crush ’em — that’s Hawks hockey. Remember that and we’ll get along just fine. If you forget it, you’ll get to know a little friend of mine named The Bench.”
He crossed the room to where Mike was standing.
“Check this out, boys.”
Dunn ripped a box open and pulled out a pair of hockey pants. Then he opened a few other boxes and pulled out shoulder, elbow and shin pads, and finally a pair of gloves. He tossed each piece of equipment on the floor. “Only the best for the Hawks. This is top-of-the-line — what the pros wear. Pick out what you need from each box. Most of the stuff is youth medium or large, but I brought some extra stuff so you shouldn’t have any problems with sizing.”
Charlie felt like a kid in a candy store as he pulled pants, shin pads, elbow pads, and shoulder pads from the various boxes. Dunn had emptied a big box with all the gloves on the floor. He picked up a pair. The palm was incredibly soft. He’d never had new equipment before, at least not this quality. His mother and father could never afford it. He put on the gloves and went over to Pudge.
“Is this not awesome?”
“Pretty dope,” Pudge said. He held up a shin pad. “The protection’s amazing, and they’re light as a feather.”
“I guess there are some benefits to having a coach who owns sporting goods stores.”
“Stand in awe, boys,” Scott said. He wore his new shoulder and elbow pads, and flexed his arms like a bodybuilder. “The first guy I hit will be going through the boards.”
“You still have to catch the guy,” Nick said. He gave the pads a whack with his hand.
“Didn’t even feel it,” Scott said. “Maybe you should start working out, Nick.”
Charlie got dressed. He’d always been a little envious of guys who got to wear the best equipment. Now it was his turn. He was dying to get out on the ice. He could see the others felt the same way. Who wouldn’t? The equipment made him feel invincible.
“Everyone satisfied?” Dunn said.
The players whooped their approval.
Dunn slapped a few players on the back. “Today, just wear your own helmets. This week you’ll all come to the store and we’ll measure you for new ones. We need to fit them exactly, with the right cage. If we tried to do it now, we’d never get to practise. And we’re here to play hockey — right?”
He got an even louder yell this time.
“Help yourselves to two sticks each. They’re all composites — the best. We got Eastons and Bauers.”
Shaw coughed nervously. “Excuse me, Mr. Dunn. We didn’t have enough Bauers in stock, so I brought these.” He held a stick up.
Dunn snorted in disgust. “Why’d you bring that junk?” He shrugged. “Sorry, boys. I’ll bring some more sticks next practice. Just grab an Easton or one of the quality Bauers.” He turned to Shaw. “Call the Richmond store. They just got a shipment.”
Shaw nodded and scribbled a note in a small black notebook.
“One last thing,” Dunn said, “before we get out there.” He held a purple hockey sweater with red trim. On the front a large, menacing hawk gripped a broken hockey stick in its claws. Dunn pointed to a white C stitched to the sweater. Dunn flipped it around — number 8. Charlie suppressed a gasp. That was his number — he’d worn it since novice and for the school team. Dunn had barely paid any attention to him — he’d been kind of mean, if anything. Maybe Mike or one of the other guys had talked to him. He would have preferred a team vote, but it was still a huge honour.
“So who wants this one?” Dunn said.
In spite of himself, Charlie felt a smile cross his face, and he reached out his hand. Dunn tossed the jersey across the room to Mike.
“You ready to lead this team to the championship?”
“Not a problem,” Mike said.
Charlie felt like an idiot. He hoped no one had noticed. Of course Mike was captain. He’d go for number nine — lots of famous players had worn that.
Dunn held each sweater up, and a player wanting that number raised his hand. If two players wanted the same sweater, Dunn decided, usually telling the losing player to “get over it.” When nine came up, Charlie held up his hand. Dunn didn’t even look his way.
“Sean, nine’s a goal scorer’s number — it’s got your name on it.”
Sean was Mike’s friend. Charlie breathed deeply — only a number, he reminded himself. He changed his strategy. This time he’d wait for a number no one wanted. He had to wait until everyone else picked, however. Zachary got his customary 15. Pudge got 5. Scott was 16 and Nick 17. They didn’t look
happy. Dunn held up 18. He felt ridiculous, the only guy without a sweater. He held up his hand and Dunn fired it over. At least it had an eight!
“Okay, you lazy slobs. How about we actually play some hockey? Finish dressing and hustle out. Edward, I want these boxes broken down and back in the van, then I want you on the ice too.”
Shaw nodded glumly. He slowly started folding the boxes, so they would lie flat.
“And don’t forget to get your new sticks,” Dunn said. “Edward, leave the boxes for a sec and cut the sticks to whatever size they want.”
Charlie was close to the sticks. He grabbed one of the Eastons. He’d flexed a few high-end composites in a hockey store — now he actually had one! Probably cost five times more than his stick. He waited in line for the assistant coach to cut the stick to size. Pudge came over.
“Impressive gear, or what?” Charlie said.
Pudge didn’t answer right away. He raised his eyebrows and nodded a few times. Charlie could tell he wasn’t happy about something.
“What’s up?” he said.
Pudge shrugged. “The equipment is great — it’s the best there is. I’m just thinkin’ about school stuff. I’m cool.”
Charlie left it alone. Pudge obviously didn’t want to talk about it. It probably had nothing to do with the Hawks. How could it? All together on one team, best gear in the world, three hundred dollar sticks. How much better did it get?
6
SNEAK ATTACK
Charlie pulled his collar tightly around his neck to keep the rain from running down his back. School had just finished, and he was waiting for Matt. Matt had missed homeroom, the only class they had together, and Charlie hadn’t seen him the rest of the day. Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen him around much at all lately.
Finally, Charlie caught sight of him running out the doors.
“Hey, Matt!” he said.
Matt didn’t stop. Instead, he sprinted off down the street. Charlie groaned and took off after him. Ten minutes standing in the pouring rain and now he was going for a jog! Charlie screamed his name several times. Finally, Matt turned around.
“Didn’t know you could run like that,” Charlie said, breathing heavily. “You should go for track this spring.”
Matt didn’t laugh. He looked at his watch. “I’m a little late for something. Sorry, but I gotta get going.”
“I just wanted to fill you in on the Hawks.”
The rain continued to pour down. Matt ran his hand across his face. “I don’t know about that. It’s been kinda crazy for me. School’s intense. Don’t care about hockey so much at the moment. Maybe I’ll get back into it next year …” He broke off and looked at his watch again.
Charlie’s mind flooded with questions. This wasn’t the Matt he knew. Since when did he not care about hockey? What was the big hurry? And since when did he wear a watch? Charlie had to get to the bottom of it.
“Why were you so late leaving school? I nearly caught pneumonia waiting for you.”
“I didn’t get my book report done for English. Hilton made me stay after school to finish it. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Charlie was even more bewildered now. Matt was a straight-A student. He never missed an assignment.
“Hold on. What’ve you been up to? You missed the first tryout, and the team’s been picked. I could speak to the coach. You should see the equipment we got — it’s unreal. Easton composite sticks, pro gloves, just incredible stuff.”
“That sounds great, Charlie. But I don’t feel like playing. No big deal. I appreciate you telling me and calling … I’m just busy.”
“Busy doing what?”
He shrugged. “Got a job, which is why I’m in a hurry. It starts in ten minutes, and my boss said I’d better not be late again or he’d take it out of my pay.”
“Where are you working?”
“With a roofing company. I help rip the shingles.”
“You’d rather work than play hockey?”
“Some of us don’t have a choice.” His tone had an edge to it. He looked at his watch again. “I really gotta go. I’ll catch up with you later. Good luck with the — ”
“Roscoe, let me introduce you to the two biggest losers in Terrence Falls.”
The voice filled Charlie with dread. Jake was crossing the street towards them with his buddies, Liam and Thomas. The big new kid was with him too.
“Great,” Matt growled. “Now I’m definitely going to be late.”
“You can get going,” Charlie said. “I’ll tell these guys to buzz.”
Matt folded his arms across his chest, his eyes narrowing.
“We really miss seeing you around, Matt,” Liam said. “You run off after school every day. I wonder why.”
Jake had a big grin on his face.
“We gotta go,” Charlie said. “We’ve got no time for this. Bye.”
“Why the hurry?” Jake sneered. “Oh, I forgot. Matt’s gotta make some cash for his old man. How’s the roofing business?”
Liam and Thomas snickered. Matt flushed and balled his fists.
“Did I tell you boys that Matt’s dad is doing some yard work for my dad?” Jake continued. “My dad got him a few other jobs too. I think he’s cleaning out our garage. Didn’t do a good job raking our leaves — missed a few — but I let him off the hook. I even gave him a two-buck tip.”
“Maybe it’ll be enough for Matt to buy a lollipop,” Liam said.
“Or a bag of chips,” Thomas said.
Charlie didn’t understand. Why would Matt’s dad rake leaves for Jake?
“We gotta go, so later,” Charlie said.
Jake stepped closer. “Joyce, I understand you’re trying out for Dunn’s new team. What’s it called?”
“The Hawks,” Liam said.
“With the guys on that team, they should call it the Flops,” Roscoe said.
Jake laughed and gave Roscoe a high-five. “It’ll be fun when we play you. You might learn something — like the meaning of pain.” He lunged forward and punched Charlie’s shoulder with his palm.
It hurt, but Charlie didn’t show it. He moved back, keeping his eye on Jake.
Thomas chuckled. “We promise to take it easy when it’s 10–0 after the first period.”
“Matt, you didn’t show for the Wildcats practices. I hope our little fight at the tournament didn’t scare you off,” Jake said.
“Dudes, look. I think Matt’s crying,” Liam said.
“I’d be crying too if my dad was such a loser,” Jake said.
Matt’s face was so pale Charlie thought he might be sick. Matt didn’t react to Jake’s taunting, however. That surprised him, since Matt had a temper. Why would he just take this from Jake?
Charlie wasn’t about to let Jake get away with it.
“I guess you all think you’re being tough, but this act is beyond lame. Without Matt, you’ll be lucky to make the playoffs. Just watch — it’ll be the Hawks vs the Snow Birds for the championship.”
“Listen to that,” Liam howled. He was bent over laughing. “The dude’s delusional.”
“The dude’s pathetic,” Roscoe said.
“The dude’s a dead man,” Jake said.
He lunged at Charlie again. This time Charlie was ready and blocked Jake’s punch. He followed up with a double forearm to Jake’s chest.
Jake fell back a few steps. “Guys, get a shovel, ’cause by the time I’m finished with this guy you’ll have to scrape him off the sidewalk.”
“Take him down, Jake,” Thomas said.
“Hammer time,” Liam said.
Charlie circled to his right.
“Here’s an interesting situation,” Charlie heard someone say.
He lowered his fists and relaxed. His friends had appeared out of nowhere.
“Why can’t you little boys behave?” Scott continued.
“Don’t you know four against two is not a fair fight?” Nick growled, looking straight at Jake.
Pudge placed his ha
nds on his hips and stood next to Charlie.
“You guys just finished choir practice?” Jake said. “Or were you doing flower arrangements after school again?”
“Doesn’t Hilton teach that class?” Liam asked.
“You’re a tough talker when Hilton’s not around,” Charlie shot back.
“I forgot,” Jake said. “Joyce is in love with the great Hilton. Sorry for not dropping to my knees and praying to that jerk. One day maybe you’ll be lucky enough to play for a real coach.”
“One day maybe you’ll be lucky enough to play for a real team,” Charlie said.
Jake twisted his mouth to the side. “Have your fun now, Joyce. It won’t be fun when the Wildcats beat the Hawks to a pulp. Let’s space, dudes.”
They crossed the street. Jake turned around. He pointed two fingers to his eyes, and then at Charlie. “Matt, tell your old man he can clean our toilets tomorrow,” he said.
He and his friends laughed uproariously.
“I’m going to crush that guy when we play against the Wildcats,” Scott said. “He’s going through the boards, I swear it.”
“What was that all about?” Pudge asked Charlie.
“Don’t know exactly. Me and Matt were just talking and they come up and started messing with us. No reason. Right, Matt?”
Matt didn’t reply. He looked dejectedly at his watch.
“Typical Jake — chickens out once the numbers aren’t on his side. Never one for a fair fight,” Nick said.
“We owe you guys,” Charlie said. “Lucky for us you showed up.”
“You could take them, easy,” Pudge said. “They’re full of hot air, that’s all.”
Charlie sighed. “Something tells me I’ll get the chance to test that theory. What’s Jake’s problem anyway?”
“He was the best hockey player in school — until you came,” Pudge said.
“I’m not sure about that,” he replied. He didn’t want Pudge saying that in front of the guys. “There’s a screw missing in his head, that’s all I know.”
“We were on the way to my dad’s for dinner,” Pudge said. “You want to come?”
“I’m not gonna pass up a chance to scarf at Bruno’s Bistro,” Charlie laughed. “Can we cruise by my house first, so I can drop off my knapsack and tell my mom? It’s right on the way.”
