by David Skuy
“I live down the street from him.”
“I was just over there for dinner last night. Small world or what?”
“Dylan’s a good guy,” Charlie said. “Good player too. Plays for the Tigers.”
“He told me about the Hawks; and I know all about Dunn.”
Charlie and Pudge exchanged glances.
“That’s sort of why we’re here. We’re putting together a new team. We have a game in two days and don’t have sweaters or socks,” Charlie explained.
“What’s the budget?” Brent said.
Charlie dreaded that question. “Not good, I’m afraid. We were hoping for something in the bargain-basement range.”
Brent put his hands on the end of a stick and rested his chin on top. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll provide the sweaters and socks, as long as I can put the store’s name on the back. I can’t afford to sponsor the team like Dunn, but I can do that much.”
Charlie couldn’t believe his luck. Free practice time and now free sweaters! The Rebels were on a roll.
“When did you say you needed them?” Brent asked.
“Monday night.”
“That’s pushing it, but I have a few contacts that might help. Worst-case scenario, I have some practice jerseys, and can have the real ones ready for the next game.”
“Awesome. I don’t know what to say,” Charlie said.
“What’s the team name?”
“The Rebels,” Charlie and Pudge proclaimed together.
He nodded approvingly. “Good name. I like it. If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I need to make some calls. Leave everything to me.”
The boys thanked him and left. Only when he got outside did Charlie realize he was still wearing the hockey gloves. With a cockeyed grin he held them up.
“Nice move — steal from the sponsor,” Pudge said.
“Next time I should try on a pair of skates,” Charlie joked.
He went back in. Brent was sorting some paperwork.
“Brent, I wanted to ask you about these gloves. I forgot I had them on and walked out.” He waved his hand.
“On the house, Charlie. Enjoy.”
“Are you sure?” he said uncertainly.
“No worries.”
“Thanks a lot. And thanks again for the sponsorship.”
“Happy to do it,” he said, turning back to his paperwork.
“You won’t believe it,” he said to Pudge when he got outside. “He gave them to me.”
Pudge looked at the gloves. “Next time, remind me to put on some hockey pants. I gave mine away because of Dunn’s equipment. The only pair I got is like two sizes too small. They fit like cycling shorts.”
Charlie dropped his board to the ground. “Now that I have my racing gloves, the first one to my mom’s café is the winner.”
He pushed off and tore down the street.
16
REBEL YELL
Pudge had organized all the guys to come to Charlie’s house at five o’clock. Charlie and his grandfather were waiting in the dining room for them to arrive. He’d asked his grandfather about being the manager after his meeting with Steve Roberts. Even though he barely knew anything about hockey, he agreed immediately.
The problem of finding a trainer was solved almost as easily. Shirley, his mom’s assistant manager and pastry chef, had been by on Friday night, and burst out laughing when she heard what he needed.
“Talk to my son, Jeffrey. He’s in his first year of college in physiotherapy, and needs some practical training hours. He’s been looking for something. I’ll call him right now.”
A minute later, Charlie had lined up a trainer!
After the crazy few days he’d had, he could barely contain his excitement to tell the boys about the new team.
“Can you come into the kitchen?” his mom called. She pointed to two large trays filled with sandwiches and cookies. “You can carry these downstairs. I have to run to the café for half an hour. Do you need anything else?”
“No, we’re cool — and you didn’t have to do that.”
“Yes I did. Now have fun, good luck, and I’ll see you soon.”
Charlie ran the food downstairs. As he came back up he heard a loud noise outside, followed by cheering. He went to check it out. Zachary was lying on the ground at the bottom of the steps, his skateboard off to the side. One shoe was off.
“Try again,” Scott said. “I’m sure you’ll nail it this time.”
“What happened?” Charlie said.
“Zachary rode his board down the steps,” Nick said.
Zachary sat up, reaching for the board. “I almost made it, too,” he said.
“You almost broke your neck,” Pudge said.
Zachary got up, holding the errant shoe. He brushed off his pants, which were ripped at the knee. “My shoe got dirty, dudes,” he said, pretending to be angry. “What am I supposed to do now?”
“I’d try again,” Scott said.
“That’s exactly what I was thinking,” Zachary said.
“How about you do that later?” Charlie said. Zachary was the type who would try again. “My mom put out some grub downstairs. Go get some nourishment. Pudge and I have some big news and you’ll want to hear it on a full stomach, especially Scott.”
“What are you up to already?” Nick demanded.
“The rest of the guys will be here soon and all will be revealed,” Charlie replied. “Now, be good little boys and head on in.”
“Are you sure we don’t have time to see Zachary wipe out again?” Scott asked.
“Maybe after,” Charlie said.
“How about we just throw him down the stairs?” Scott offered.
A well-aimed shoe hit Scott in the chest.
“A hostage,” Scott declared, grabbing the shoe. “To the toilet with you.”
He opened the door and bounded down the hall, yelling, “Attack! Attack!” Zachary gave chase, with Nick close behind. Charlie had half a mind to join in the fun, but decided he should wait outside for the others.
His grandfather poked his head out.
“Based on the herd of elephants that just charged downstairs, I assume the team has arrived.”
“Some of them, Grandpa,” Charlie said. “The rest should be here soon.”
“I’ll be upstairs if you need me. By the way, what’s with the shoe? One of your friends was punching it,” he said. The corners of his eyes wrinkled, and he chuckled.
Only Scott could take it to that level, Charlie thought. Robert and Christopher came next, arriving together as always. He and Pudge went down the steps to greet them.
“How’s the defence pair doing?” Charlie said. Charlie knew how quiet they were, so he wasn’t insulted when they merely nodded in reply. “Thanks for coming over. Some of the guys are already here, so head on downstairs. There’s lots of food. My mom’s a cook and it’s good stuff.”
“Pudge said you have some info about hockey. What’s up?” Robert asked.
“We’ll fill you in once everyone gets here,” Pudge replied.
Jonathon and Martin arrived.
“Couple more guys and we got ourselves a road hockey game,” Jonathon said.
“Sounds good to me,” Charlie said. “Greatest game on earth.”
“I’d love to pound a few tennis balls past Martin,” Jonathon said.
“No chance,” Martin said. “I play out in road hockey. I’m a goal scoring machine off the ice.”
“I love playing net,” Charlie said. “We’ll switch positions.”
“I thought we were here for ice hockey,” Robert said, uncertain if they were serious.
“Did I hear you say road hockey? I’ll get my stick.”
“Dylan! Are you coming to join our little meeting?” Charlie said. “Or is this just a tease?”
Dylan feigned indifference. “I didn’t have much to do tonight. Pudge called me today and, since I was out for a walk anyway — well, I thought I’d come over and check things out.”
“Looks like everyone’s here, except for Matt,” Charlie said to Pudge. “Let’s do this thing.”
Zachary and Scott were engaged in an intense air-hockey game — last year’s Christmas present from his grandparents.
“Sorry to bother you guys,” Charlie said. “You can get back to your homework later.”
“I gotta teach Zachary some respect for his elders,” Scott said.
“I’m older than you,” Zachary said.
“I’ll just teach you some respect then.”
They stopped their game and sat down. This was Charlie’s favourite room. It had two large couches and he could just hang out and watch TV or play video games.
“First off, I want to thank everyone for coming,” Charlie said.
“Sounds like a marriage speech,” Scott said.
“Couldn’t be. Julia’s not here,” Nick said.
Charlie ignored them. He continued in a serious tone. “We all had different reasons for joining the Hawks. Some wanted the challenge of triple-A, some were just looking for a team, and some didn’t want to play for the Hawks at all.” He pointed accusingly at Dylan, who bowed back.
“Pudge and I had an idea, and we wanted to get your opinion.”
“It was Charlie’s idea,” Pudge piped in.
“Maybe at first, but Pudge helped to make it happen.”
“What happened, already? What’s the deal?” Nick cried.
“The Hawks are dead — Long live the Rebels!” Charlie declared.
The guys stared at him.
“I guess I should start at the beginning. I spoke to the guy who runs the league. We can take over the Hawks and put our own team in. Dunn paid for the league registration. We have a sponsor — the Hockey Shop; a name — the Rebels; a manager, a trainer …”
“We’ve got your mom’s cookies,” Scott said, holding one up.
“True,” Charlie agreed, laughing along with the others. “And since we’ve all played tons of hockey, I figure we also have a coach — us! We can coach ourselves.”
There was silence for a few moments.
Then absolute mayhem broke out. Soon they were all chanting, “Re-bels! Re-bels! Re-bels!”
Scott held his arms over his head to quiet things down. “I got a question,” he repeated a few times. “Be quiet, you animals.” He lowered his arms. “We do need one more thing — a captain.”
“I nominate Charlie,” Pudge said.
“I second it,” Scott said.
“I third it,” Nick followed.
“I fourth it,” Scott said.
“You already seconded it,” Nick chastised. “Now we have to do it again.”
“Come on, guys,” Charlie said. “We should do this properly. I’ll hand out ballots and we can nominate a few people.”
“I think you’re captain,” Christopher said.
That surprised Charlie. Christopher rarely said anything, especially in a crowd. Charlie looked around the room. His eyes met Pudge’s.
“Move on, captain,” Pudge said.
He didn’t respond for a few seconds, a bit overwhelmed. “Thanks, guys. I appreciate it,” he said finally. “Now stop interrupting me, Scott, and let me finish for once.”
“The guy’s captain for less than a second and he turns into a dictator,” Scott said.
“We got lucky with uniforms,” Charlie said. “The owner of The Hockey Store is giving us sweaters and socks for free.”
The guys all cheered.
“Before you get too stoked, wait till you hear about practices. Sir Thomas Dunn, our former sponsor, put down a small deposit at the Ice Palace. But that’s for prime time and we can’t afford that. So I spoke to Gus Wilson, the rink manager, and he’ll let us practise in the morning for free, thanks to Dunn’s deposit. We just have to promise to be off the ice before the next group so he can run the Zamboni.”
“What time are we talking?” Zachary asked.
“Believe me when I say that this will hurt me as much as it hurts you … We can practise at six o’clock in the morning — that’s 6 a.m.”
“Ouch,” Scott said. “Mega-ouch.”
“It’s a killer,” Charlie said, “but it’s all we can get. We’ll only practise one or two times a week to keep the pain to a minimum. We need to commit to it, though. We have to practise, or this whole thing will be a waste. We can’t just play games and expect to compete.”
He looked around the room again. “Is everyone still in?”
They all nodded or flashed a thumbs-up.
“We’re also short a few bodies. Right now, we have four defencemen and six forwards, which is okay but it’s an injury away from being seriously undermanned. As it is, most teams will have an extra line and another pair of defencemen — we’re going to have to really be in shape or teams will wear us down by the third period.”
Matt walked in. “Did you count me in that number?” Charlie held out his first and Matt gave it a punch.
“You ever played hockey before?” Scott said.
“Don’t tell me you’re on the team,” Matt said.
“I’m probably the best player.”
“Then I’ve played before.”
They laughed, and Matt flopped down on the floor.
Charlie hadn’t seen Matt in such good spirits in a long time. He hoped it meant things were better at home.
“Don’t get too excited, Matt,” Zachary said. “We practise at six in the morning.”
“That’s great,” Matt said. “It won’t interfere with school or work.”
“This guy’s too upbeat for me,” Scott said. “I say we kill him.”
Scott leapt onto Matt, and they started to wrestle.
Everyone had a good laugh as Scott and Matt pretended to knock each other around, WWE-style.
“One last thing,” Charlie said when it was over. He could tell the guys were restless. “The game against the Hornets on Monday starts at seven o’clock at the Ice Palace. Let’s show up an hour early. We all need to sign medical release forms, organize sweaters, and handle a few other administrative details. That about covers it — no need to clear out, by the way. Feel free to hang out.”
Scott jumped up on the couch. “I need to apologize to all of you in advance,” he said. “I am about to crush each and every one of you at air hockey. No tears, please. Simply accept that I am the greatest player to ever hold an air hockey paddle.”
He hopped over the back of the couch and grabbed a paddle, holding it to his heart. Nick took the other paddle, and held it to his.
“I feel a tournament coming on,” Nick said. “First to three wins. Champion plays on. Last man standing is declared champion of all time.”
Scott nudged Charlie with his paddle. “You should warm up. You’ll be playing me in two minutes, after I destroy this pathetic air-hockey impostor.”
They all crowded around the table, trading jokes and laughing at Scott’s antics. Charlie noticed Matt standing off to the side near the couch. He wandered over to him.
“How’s it going?” Charlie said.
“I’m beat. The restaurant is crazy on Saturdays. I was running from the second I got there. Pudge makes it look easy. I’m always on the brink of disaster.”
“You’ll get the hang of it,” he said. “Anyway, good to see you back.”
“I missed it more than I thought. I’m lucky to be working for Pudge’s dad. He’s given me flexible hours, so I can make all the games.” He lowered his voice. “Thanks for helping my dad out … I … um … appreciate the help … and for taking on Jake and those jerks, and …”
“I didn’t do anything,” Charlie said. “Just mentioned that your dad was available. You should see the work he did at the café — amazing. As for Jake,” he shrugged, “I somehow doubt that’ll be the last time we tangle with his crew.”
Scott let loose a huge scream. “How is this possible?” he wailed.
H
e tossed his paddle to Charlie, his head lowered. “Gentlemen, we all know Nick’s a cheater. That’s the main thing. Now excuse me while I have a good long cry.”
Charlie faced Nick across the table. “Nick, I’m afraid your championship run is about to end. Maybe it’s best if you just quit now and spare yourself the humiliation.”
Nick rapped the disk at his net in reply. Charlie blocked it, and the game was on, with most of the onlookers calling next game.
17
BRING IT ON
Charlie tugged on his grandfather’s sleeve.
“What time is it?” he asked.
“The game starts in thirty minutes.”
He had to force himself not to try to rip the armrest off the van door. “I told everyone to be an hour early.”
“Perhaps we should have left to pick up the sweaters and socks a bit earlier,” his grandfather said quietly.
He was right. Charlie had wanted to see the end of a TV show, which would have been fine if they hadn’t hit a ton of traffic on the way to The Hockey Shop. He was feeling sick to his stomach.
“Why don’t I let you off in front?” his grandfather suggested. “Take your equipment in and I’ll bring the rest of the stuff.”
“It’s okay. I can handle it. Just drop me off.”
They pulled up in front of the arena.
Charlie was out of the car in a flash. He slung his hockey bag over one shoulder and the bag with the sweaters and socks over the other. With sticks in hand, he staggered towards the doors.
“You sure you don’t want some help?” his grandfather called from the car.
“I’m good. See you in the dressing room.”
He felt a surge of pride when he saw REBELS — Room 6 written in chalk on a board in the lobby. The past five days had been a blur, a real whirlwind adventure. What had started during that road hockey game at his house was now a reality — he was playing hockey with all his friends, and this time without Mike or his dad to ruin it.
He pushed the door open.
“What’s in the bag, captain?” Scott asked. “Presents?”
“Only good boys get presents,” he said. “You’ve been naughty lately.”
“I think I ate a carrot yesterday — that’s a serving of vegetables.”
