by David Skuy
Steve Roberts and his mother waved to the crowd. Next to them stood a long table covered in trophies. Charlie led his teammates to the blue line.
Steve held a microphone.
“I want to congratulate the East Metro Hockey League triple-A minor bantam champs — the Rebels.” The crowd cheered and the players banged their sticks on the ice.
“Normally, we’d hand out trophies to the runners-up first … but given the circumstances, perhaps we’ll get right to it.” The crowd laughed. “Rebels, come get your trophies!”
Steve called each player’s name and shook his hand, and his mother handed out the trophies. He called Charlie’s name last, and gave him his trophy and the championship cup. Charlie held the cup over his head and the Rebels and their fans cheered loudly. Steve took the microphone again.
“We have one more trophy to award, for Most Valuable Player.” He picked up a trophy. “I put a lot of thought into this one. Some people say an MVP should be the best player in the league, or the guy with the most goals. I think it’s for the player who contributes the most to his team. As we all know, the Rebels are an unusual organization. The players ran the team themselves. They didn’t even have a coach until halfway through the season. And, as the parents of these boys know very well, they practised at six in the morning!
“One player took the initiative to organize the team. He missed some games due to an injury, but led his team in scoring in the regular season and the playoffs. He stood out all year with his creative and unselfish play. Let’s have a rousing cheer for this year’s MVP, Charlie Joyce!”
He couldn’t believe it! He’d just assumed J.C. Savard, Burnett, or maybe even Jake would win it. His teammates whacked his shoulder pads and pounded his helmet.
“Congrats, Charlie,” Steve said. “You guys surprised me. I still remember you coming into my office all those months ago. Never thought you’d make it this far.”
“Neither did I,” Charlie said.
“I knew you were a good boy,” Steve’s mom added.
Charlie held the trophy over his head, and the crowd cheered even louder than before. His teammates crowded around him.
“How about a picture?” Brent was on the ice holding a camera. “I need a picture for the store. First time I sponsor a team, and it wins the championship. I like it.”
Charlie put the championship cup on the ice and they all flopped down around it. Charlie noticed Hilton off to the side.
“Coach, you gotta get in this picture too,” he said.
“Yeah, come on.”
“Get in here.”
Hilton laughed and joined them.
“You too, Grandpa — and Jeffrey,” Charlie said.
“Give me that championship smile,” Brent said.
Charlie didn’t need to be asked.
29
KEEPIN’ IT GOING
Charlie sat on the front steps of his house. He flipped a Frisbee to Pudge.
“It’s amazing,” Charlie said. “The music’s blaring downstairs — and I can still hear Scott.”
“What’s he calling himself now?”
“Righteous King of Hip Hop.”
Charlie had invited his teammates to his house after the game. News spread, though, and a bunch of the kids from school who’d watched the game were also there. They’d been dancing downstairs for the past half an hour.
The trophies were arranged on the front steps. Scott had seen to that. “To make sure people understand there’s a new champ in town,” he’d said.
Pudge picked up a trophy. “The only thing wrong with the game was the Wildcats didn’t have to watch us get our hardware,” he said.
“I’m not gonna forget that game any time soon,” Charlie said. “It was totally random. I wonder what the league will do with Schultz. I still can’t believe he freaked out in the championship game.”
“No shortage of memories from this season,” Pudge said.
“Remember me and you sitting alone in that ice box of a dressing room before practice?” Charlie said.
“Or seeing those pink sweaters for the first time.”
“What about the car wash?” Charlie said.
“That was definitely a low point.”
“My low point was Dunn kicking me off the team. Too weird to think how it turned out.”
“Speaking of low points, aren’t you forgetting the concussion?”
“I’d like to forget about Jake.” He stared at the ground for a second before looking Pudge in the eye. “What I won’t forget is a guy I know who told me to put the concussion and the fight behind me and just play hockey.”
Pudge kicked at the steps a few times. He laughed and picked up the Frisbee lying to the side. “Wanna toss the bean around a bit more before going back downstairs?”
Charlie nodded emphatically. After a few throws, Charlie let loose a high one that grazed Pudge’s fingertips and sailed over the road onto the lawn across the street.
“I get it! I get it!”
Josh and his father were crossing the street. Josh picked up the Frisbee.
“Hi, Chawie. Hi, Fudge.”
“Hi, Josh.”
“That was quite a game,” Josh’s dad said.
“Didn’t know you were there,” Charlie said.
“Dunn kept telling everyone at work how you guys were going to flame out. Can’t tell you how great it felt to see you pull it off — and believe me, this will be like a dagger in Dunn’s heart. It’ll kill him.”
“It was fun,” Pudge said.
“Can I hold that? I like it,” Josh said, pointing to the MVP trophy. “What is it?”
“That’s Charlie’s trophy,” his dad said.
“I want it,” Josh said.
“Now, Josh. Charlie worked hard for that. It’s his.”
Charlie took it from the steps.
“I’d like you to have it, Josh. Will you take good care of it for me?”
Josh’s grin seemed too big for his face. He threw the Frisbee aside and hugged the trophy to his little chest.
“My twophy!”
They all laughed.
“Are you sure?” Josh’s dad asked.
Charlie nodded and pointed to the other trophies. “These are more important.”
“Thanks, Charlie. When he loses interest I’ll see that it returns to its rightful owner. As for this fellow,” he picked his son up, “it’s time to get ready for bed. Say goodnight, Josh.”
“Goodnight, Chawie. Goodnight, Fudge,” Josh said, as his father carried him home.
The door opened and Scott, Nick, Matt and Zachary stormed out.
“I didn’t think you guys would ever leave the dance floor,” Charlie said.
“We were getting nervous — you two all alone with our babies,” Scott said. He took a trophy and cradled it in his arms.
“Now that you mention it, I was thinking these would look good in my room,” Charlie said. “They like me.”
Pudge elbowed Charlie.
“There’s Hilton and Brent,” he said.
The two men got out of a van and came over.
“How’s it going, gentlemen?” Hilton said.
“No complaints,” Charlie said. “How about you?”
“None that I can think of,” Hilton replied. “Brent and I found ourselves talking about the season after the game, and before we knew it we’d been sitting in the stands for an hour. I figured you’d all still be here, and we decided to drop by.
“I hope two old men won’t dampen the party,” Brent said.
“Not at all,” Charlie said. “Wouldn’t be right if you missed it.”
“We got to talking about the team’s future,” Hilton said. “I confess I had a great time coaching. There’s something special about this group. You have a chemistry that’s hard to find. I liked being part of it — and clearly, the result was satisfactory.”
“I don’t know about that,” Scott said. “I kinda thought the MVP should’ve come my way. You may not know
this, but most of the guys called me The Inspiration.”
“Don’t you mean The Perspiration?” Nick said.
Scott pretended to be shocked. “So that’s why everyone keeps giving me underarm deodorant.”
“That’s part of it,” Nick said.
“You were saying, Coach?” Charlie said. He had a feeling Hilton had something important to say.
“I was thinking — if you are all agreeable, that is — that I’d like to keep this team together for next year. And I’d definitely like to stay on as your coach.”
“That sounds like a plan to me,” Charlie said. “What do you guys think?”
“Depends on the money,” Scott said. “I’ll have to discuss it with my agent.”
“You mean your teddy bear,” Nick put in.
“Don’t tell them about Teddy,” Scott said. He pretended to cry.
“I also want to be a part of this,” Brent said. “I got some great publicity from the team. Sales picked up, the word got out about the store, and things are looking up. I’m starting renovations soon, which will give me way more space for new equipment. Next year I’ll be able to sponsor you properly. Maybe not like Dunn, but I’ll do my best.”
“The last thing we want is for you to be anything like Dunn,” Charlie said. “This is almost as great as winning the championship. I’m ready to practise right now.”
“I can get my equipment and be back in ten minutes,” Matt said.
“Mine’s in Charlie’s garage,” Zachary said. “I’ll meet you at the rink.”
Hilton laughed. “Take the day off. Now tell me, where can I find your mother?”
“She’s usually in the kitchen,” Charlie said.
“I’ll start there. See you in a bit, boys.”
He and Brent went inside.
Just then, Edward Shaw showed up. “Did I just see Brent Sanderson and your coach go inside?”
Charlie got up and shook his hand. “Nice to see you, Mr. Shaw,” he said.
“I told you, it’s Edward,” he said good-naturedly. “Your mom asked me to come by after the game. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Of course not,” Charlie said.
“It was nice to see you all do so well today,” Edward said.
“We appreciate that,” Charlie said. And he meant it. He’d never forget Edward’s kindness on the day Dunn kicked him off the Hawks.
“Couldn’t miss my team playing in the finals. In fact, I saw most of your home games too. I confess I’m starting to like hockey. I’m already looking forward to next season. Will you be having a team again?”
Charlie grinned. “It looks like we will.”
“Marvelous news. I can hardly wait.” He patted Charlie on the shoulder. “I should go in and say hello to your mom.”
“Try the kitchen,” he said.
The Rebels were most definitely on a roll — and it didn’t seem that long ago when Charlie didn’t even have a team to play on.
30
THE FUNKY CHICKEN
“Dudes, I have been waiting a long time to redeem myself,” Zachary announced.
“What did you do wrong?” Charlie said.
“Wait here,” he replied, leaping down the steps. He ran to the garage and emerged wearing a helmet and two elbow pads, holding a skateboard.
“I missed landing a jump from the top of these stairs the night you and Pudge told us about the Rebels. Seems only fitting I try again.”
“Awesome,” Scott said. “We get to see Zachary wipe out again.”
“Not likely, dude,” Zachary said.
They cleared the trophies from the steps.
“That looks a bit like my board,” Charlie said.
“Small price to pay for the glory,” Zachary said.
He got on the board, flashed a thumbs-up, and pushed off with his left foot. At the top of the steps he bounced hard on the board, bending down low at the same time. He flew in the air and, at the last second pushed back on the heel. His rear wheels skinned the tip of the bottom stair, but he managed to hold his balance. Charlie thought his rickety old board would snap in half when he landed, but by some miracle it held together, and Zachary raised his arms in triumph.
“Who’s your daddy?” he said.
“Who’s completely whacked?” Charlie answered.
“Who was crazy enough to let me use his board?” Zachary replied.
Charlie and Zachary traded high-fives.
“One day, Zachary, you’re truly gonna kill yourself,” Charlie said.
“But not today!” Zachary shot back.
Matt was putting the trophies back on the steps.
“Charlie, where’s the MVP trophy? I swear I saw it here,” Matt said.
Charlie pointed across the street. By coincidence, Josh had come out the door moments before in his pajamas holding the trophy.
“I found the real MVP and gave it to him.”
“I don’t remember him playing many games,” Matt said.
“You weren’t at the street hockey game in my driveway before the season. If Dunn hadn’t almost run Josh over, he never would have stopped the car and invited us to the Hawks tryouts. The Rebels would never have been born.”
“I guess we all underestimated that little dude,” Zachary said.
“He’s my new hero,” Scott said.
“Goodnight, Chawie!” Josh yelled.
“Goodnight, Josh,” they all yelled back.
Josh’s mom came outside, waved, and picked Josh up in her arms. He held the trophy over his head as his mom carried him in.
“Time for some Rebels to take over the dance floor,” Charlie said.
“You’ve gained some confidence since your last dance,” Pudge said.
“No point being afraid,” Charlie said. “I learned that this season.”
“Let’s do it, guys,” Scott said.
They charged up the steps, chanting, “Re-bels! Re-bels!” Charlie lagged behind. He felt like being alone for a minute. Pudge’s comment had brought up some painful memories. Now that the season was over he could admit to himself that he’d been downright afraid of Jake. But ultimately he’d faced up to him. And Jake had proven himself a coward by losing his temper and getting those penalties. His dad had told him a thousand times that cowards are selfish, that they always let others down when the game is on the line.
The memory of his dad made him sad, but this time it was in a good way. He liked having those memories — they were the only things he had left.
“Are you coming in?”
Julia had come out onto the porch.
Charlie felt embarrassed being outside by himself. “I was just getting some fresh air. Trying to soak it all in.”
“It was a lot of fun … watching the games,” she said. “You were terrific. I thought the whole team … sort of followed you.”
She blushed and looked down at the steps. He could tell she was nervous too. Why couldn’t he just talk to this girl? He liked her, and yet there always seemed to be something unspoken between them that made talking hard. Time to put an end to that, he decided.
“There’s a little thing that’s been bugging me for a while,” he said. “Something I want to say to you.”
The expression on her face turned serious.
“I wanted to apologize for what I did at the dance — or, how I acted. I was messed by the concussion …” He bit his lip and shook his head. “Scratch that. I blamed the concussion for every stupid thing I did — and believe me, I did a lot of stupid things. The concussion had nothing to do with any of it. Anyway, at the dance, I was maybe a bit nervous and … Jake and his crew were staring at me … and I think I sounded sort of dumb when we were talking by the doors before I left.”
“Is that why you’ve been … I don’t know … avoiding me?”
She looked up him. He noticed that her hair was down by her shoulders. Usually she wore it in a ponytail.
He folded his arms and nodded. “I’ve been a jerk. Don’t take it perso
nally. I’ve been a jerk to my friends also. I didn’t mean to avoid you or anyone. To be honest, the fight with Jake, and his bragging about it all over school, I just figured …”
“What did you figure?” she asked in a soft voice.
He leaned back against the railing. “I figured that … maybe people wouldn’t want to hang out with me, not after Jake made me look so lame. That maybe people would prefer to hang with Jake and his friends.”
“And why would I want to do that?”
“Well … he did knock me around pretty good — and you did dance with him.”
She brushed a hair from her face and raised her chin. “I told you — I danced to be polite.” She looked him square in the eye. “I came to your games because I wanted to.”
Charlie felt himself flush.
“I’m glad you did — come to the games, I mean.”
She laughed. “My team choked and lost in the quarterfinals, so I had time to kill.”
Charlie thought she looked kind of cute with her hair down and her nose all scrunched up. He laughed too, and felt his nervousness disappear. He thought about how he’d underestimated his friends, assuming they’d drop him because he lost a fight. He understood how lucky he was to have buds like Pudge, Scott, Nick, Zachary, Matt and all the guys on the team. It seemed he’d underestimated Julia too. He was lucky she was giving him a second chance.
He remembered something from their conversation at the school dance.
“I was about to ask you to dance before Pudge said we had to go,” he said. “And you did say it’s rude to refuse to dance with a guy … at least, a guy you know and who asks politely …”
Her expression changed to a half-smile.
“So … do you want to dance … with me?” he asked.
She smiled. “I won’t dance with you to be polite. I’ll do it because I want to.”
Charlie felt himself blush, and Julia lowered her gaze.
“Let’s go downstairs,” he said, holding the door for her. “Who knows what Scott’s up to.”
When they walked in, Scott was standing on a chair in the middle of the room.
“The Rebels got the pink sweaters; the Rebels got the sponsor; the Rebels got the coach … and the Rebels got themselves the trophy.”
