This, it turned out, was an important choice. The lot sloped slightly downhill, and there were more cracks near the downhill goal. Marty pointed uphill. “We’ll take that one.”
“Figures. Let’s play,” Killer growled as he skated off to his position.
All the parents started cheering their kids as the teams lined up for the opening faceoff. Kirby skated off to the sideline. Across from him, four Bad Boy subs waited to enter the game. At least I’m not the only one, thought Kirby.
One of the Bad Boy subs dropped the puck, and the game was on. Marty won the faceoff and got the puck to Trevor, who quickly skated toward the Bad Boys’ goal. Marty followed him in, but the defense was all over them, grappling for the puck, which soon came loose. Spike got it on his stick, and passed it across the blue line to Killer.
Right away, Kirby could tell that the Skates were in trouble. Nick had come too far forward on defense, skating himself right out of the play. Now poor Jamal was all that was left between the Bad Boys and Lainie. Killer made a move as though he was going to shove Jamal, and Jamal, terrified, ducked. Killer easily skated past him, while Spike went straight for the goal mouth.
Killer moved in close, faked, then flicked a wrist shot above Lainie’s left shoulder. Somehow, incredibly, she blocked the shot. But the rebound skittered right onto Spike’s stick!
He shoved it clumsily at the goal. Lainie fell on it. Both Bad Boys hacked at her glove, trying to dislodge it, and before she or her teammates could think to call the puck dead, one of the Bad Boys had jammed it into the goal.
A shout went up from the parents on the E Street side of the rink. “Come on, guys!” Mr. Bledsoe called. “That puck was dead!”
The Bad Boys paid no attention. They mobbed each other, cheering. One to nothing already, and the game has barely started, Kirby thought.
After that, the Skates seemed to dig in. Trevor and Marty put some pressure on the offensive end, getting off one or two good shots whenever they could free themselves from the Bad Boys’ smothering defense.
But the main reason the score remained 1-0 was because every time the puck came into the Skates’ end, Nick and Jamal just slammed it right back down the rink instead of manuevering for a good pass. There were a lot of icing calls against the Skates, and that meant a lot of faceoffs in their own end. Luckily Lainie managed to hold off the barrage.
That is, until Trevor tripped over some bad cracks in the pavement, and Killer and Spike mounted another two-on-one rush, with Nick again too far forward.
This time, when Jamal ducked, his stick caught Spike’s shot and deflected it past Lainie into the goal. Lainie shrieked in frustration and pounded her stick on the pavement. “Come on, defense!” she yelled at Jamal and Nick.
“Hey, go easy!” Marty told her. “They’re doing the best they can.”
Lainie looked over at Kirby and then at Marty. Marty knew what she meant. “Yeah, okay, take a break, Nick.”
“Me?” Nick seemed stunned. “I’m not tired.”
“I’m tired!” Jamal said, getting to his feet clumsily and skating off the rink.
“Let’s go, let’s go!” shouted a Bad Boy sub, ready at the center faceoff circle. “Get a man in here!”
“Kirby! Go!” shouted Marty. “You’re in for Jamal on defense!”
Kirby grabbed his stick and leapt onto the playing area, giving Jamal five as they crossed paths. “Come on, Kirby, pick me up,” Jamal said.
Kirby nodded, not even stopping to think that he’d concentrated all week on playing forward. He knew next to nothing about defense.
As if they knew that, the Bad Boys mounted a rush down his side. Two of them went by, one on either side of him, passing the puck around behind him before he knew what was happening.
“Come on!” Lainie yelled, after just barely managing to deflect the slap shot. “I need some help back here!”
Kirby felt himself go red under his face mask. But there was no time to feel embarrassed. He had to go after the puck! Moving quickly, he outhustled Spike for it and flipped it down-rink to Marty.
The pass hit right on Marty’s stick as he flew by Killer, who was stuck to him like glue. Marty had him by a step and fired from midzone, sending it between the pads of the sprawling goalie. Score!
The half ended with the Skates swarming Marty, their hero. He had gotten them back into the game with his last-minute goal, just ahead of halftime.
“That was some pass, Kirby,” he said, slapping Kirby five. “Guys, I think we’ve got a player here.”
“Listen, you guys on defense have got to stand your ground,” Lainie complained. “I’m getting killed out there.”
“They’re too much bigger than Jamal and Kirby,” Marty said. “And Nick, you’ve got to stay back to help.”
“But you guys weren’t getting any shots off!” Nick protested.
“He’s right,” Marty said. “We need more muscle on defense and more speed on offense. Kirby, you ready to play forward?”
“Definitely!” Kirby said excitedly. It was the chance he’d been waiting for all week.
“Good. I’ll put in some time on defense. I’m big enough to get in their way.”
“Thank goodness,” Lainie muttered, nodding in approval.
“Will you lay off?” Trevor told her.
Lainie blinked. “You’re right,” she said, backing off. “Sorry. I guess I’m a little scared is all. They shoot hard.”
“It’s okay,” Marty said. “We’re all a team, and that’s how we win. Put your hands in here.”
They all put their hands together and shouted, “Go… Skates!” It was time for the second half.
The new strategy worked, in a way. The Bad Boys had no success getting the puck past Marty, but on the other hand, Kirby and Trevor were unable to get off any good shots.
Actually Kirby never got to see much of the puck. Trevor, not knowing if Kirby was any good, was hogging the puck, and getting it stolen by the Bad Boys time after time.
“I’m open! I’m open!” Kirby would shout. But Trevor, when he could have easily passed to him, didn’t even try. Instead, he took wild shots.
Kirby realized that if he was ever going to get a shot, he’d have to get the puck on his own. He decided to try to make a steal in the forward zone.
Before he could succeed, however, he was subbed for, and Marty went back to playing forward, inserting Jamal on defense. Suddenly Kirby was back on the bench.
Then, about halfway through the period, Marty went down. He tripped over the same crack in the pavement that had surprised Trevor in the first half and landed hard on his right shoulder. He lay there on the asphalt, writhing in pain. Play came to an instant stop.
“My shoulder! My shoulder!” Marty was crying. His parents were kneeling down next to him in an instant, and other parents were asking everyone to back away and give them room.
“It might be dislocated,” Mr. Bledsoe said. “We’d better get him to the emergency room. Can you get up, son?”
Marty got to his feet, still whimpering, his arm hanging limp, as the stunned Skates looked on silently. He skated over to the gate and got into his parents’ car with them. The Bledsoes sped off.
“Whoa, man!” Trevor said. “Do you think he’s going to be okay?”
“Marty’ll be okay,” Lainie said, sounding not too sure of herself. “The question is, will we be okay without him?”
They all looked at each other anxiously as the Bad Boys started calling to them to resume the game or forfeit.
Trevor took over as acting captain. “Okay, Kirby, you’re in at forward again. Let’s go. Let’s win it for Marty!”
With a yell, they took their positions. The puck was dropped, and Trevor won the faceoff, sending it back to Nick at the blue line.
“Nick! Here!” Kirby shouted. “I’m open!”
Nick passed it toward him, but the Bad Boys had heard Kirby shouting. Spike intercepted the puck, speeding the other way.
Kirby leapt i
nto action, skating so fast that he overtook Spike just as he raised his stick for a slap shot. Reaching underneath, Kirby swept the puck onto his stick, and Spike fired nothing but air!
Kirby was already across the blue line by the time anyone realized what had happened. He skated straight in, then faked a shot just as Killer got to him. The Bad Boy captain tripped as he tried to block the shot, but Kirby had never intended to shoot. Not yet.
Now, with Killer on the ground and Trevor yelling for him to pass the puck, Kirby skated straight in on the goalie. Zigging and zagging, he got the goalie off balance, then flipped the puck over the Bad Boy’s shoulder and into the net!
A wild cheer erupted from the E Street side of the parking lot. “That’s my boy!” he heard his father shouting.
Kirby was mobbed by his teammates, and the whole pile of them fell on top of him in total happiness.
But the game wasn’t over yet. There were still a few minutes left in which to win — or lose. Furious and stunned, the Bad Boys turned up the heat, mounting rush after rush at the Skates’ goal. But Lainie was not about to give anything up. Not now. Not after they’d come this far. At the end of regulation time, the score was tied, 2-2.
“Five-minute overtime,” Lainie called out, and the two teams formed up immediately. In the flurry that followed, both teams played carefully, making sure not to lose the game by being out of position. There were a lot of stoppages of play as players fired the puck down-rink or out of bounds. Then, with only seconds left, the Bad Boys mounted a two-on-one rush. Kirby was way down at the other end of the rink, but he raced back toward his own zone, hoping against hope that he wasn’t too late.
Killer got off a slap shot. Lainie did a full split to block it, and the puck came out in front of the goal. But Spike was there, waiting. Lainie tried to get back into position, but Kirby could see that she would never be able to stop the next shot.
As Spike wound up for the slap shot, Kirby’s instincts took over. Lunging forward with his stick, he reached out as far as he could. The tip of his stick fell just short of the puck. But as Spike’s stick came down, it hit Kirby’s stick instead of the puck. There was a loud crack, but no shot. Lainie sprang forward to cover the puck, and the game was saved!
“Time’s up!” shouted one of the parents, who was acting as timekeeper. The overtime ended the way regulation had: 2-2, a tie.
There was the usual lineup and hand-slapping at the end, but the Bad Boys were in a foul mood. Kirby saw at least one of them spit on his hand before offering it. He pulled his own hand back, avoiding total gross-out. Then, his arms around his teammates shoulders, he skated back with them toward the sideline.
“We did it! We saved the game for Marty!” Jamal shouted happily.
“What are you so happy about?” Trevor asked. “Marty got hurt. And besides, we didn’t win.”
“We will next time,” Lainie said confidently. “Soon as we get Marty back, we’ll have a rematch. Next Saturday, same time, their team said.”
“If we get Marty back by then,” Nick corrected. “If his shoulder is dislocated, won’t that keep him out of action all summer?”
They broke up to greet their parents. Although she didn’t say anything, Kirby sensed that his mother was troubled.
“Marty’ll be okay,” he assured her. “You’ll see.”
“I don’t know, Kirby,” his mom replied. “That could have just as easily been you. The pavement here is in very bad repair. That boy Trevor nearly hurt himself, too.”
“It’s not that bad, Mom — really!” With a sinking heart, Kirby could see that he wasn’t convincing her. He could only hope that Marty wasn’t too badly hurt and that his parents would let him play in the rematch.
He didn’t even want to think about what his summer would be like if they refused to let him play.
8
Just as Kirby and his parents were coming home after the game, the phone rang. Kirby ran to answer it. It was Marty Bledsoe.
“So, did we win?” he wanted to know.
“Tied, 2-2,” Kirby said. “Are you okay?”
“I’m talking to you, aren’t I?”
“Yeah,” Kirby said, smiling. Marty couldn’t be too badly hurt if he was joking around. “So? Did you break your arm?”
“Nah. They thought my shoulder was dislocated, but it turned out it’s only a bruise. It got all purple, though. Wait till you see it — it’s really cool.”
“Does it hurt?”
“Only when I move it. But I’m in a sling, so I don’t move it very often.”
“I — I guess that means you can’t play with us next week,” Kirby said.
“It’s worse than that,” Marty said, his joking tone turning dismal. “Here’s the really bad news. When the town found out I hurt myself, they got all scared about people using the parking lot. My dad told them we weren’t going to sue or anything, but they don’t care. The mayor already told my dad he’s going to ask the town council to lock the parking lot so no one can play.”
“Oh, no!” Kirby’s stomach knotted. “They can’t do that!”
“Yeah, well, you try and stop them, because my dad couldn’t. And he’s a lawyer.” Marty sure sounded down about it.
“Hey, Marty?” Kirby asked, a thought suddenly striking him. “How come you called me first, and not any of the others?”
“Huh? I don’t know,” Marty confessed. “I guess… I guess I wanted to see how it was going for my new teammate. And I don’t know — about the lot being closed, I thought you might have an idea or something. I already know what the others are going to say about it.”
“Like… ?”
“Like Trevor will start getting himself all upset, Lainie will throw a fit, Nick will cry, and Jamal will secretly be happy he doesn’t have to get out there and face the Bad Boys again.”
Kirby laughed. “So what do you want to do?”
“I need to rest,” Marty said. “They gave me something at the hospital for the pain, and I’m kind of out of it. Could you call everybody, and tell them to meet on E Street tomorrow at two? We need to figure something out.”
“Okay. See you then,” Kirby said, and hung up.
“What was that all about?” his dad asked, peeking over the top of his newspaper.
“Marty’s okay,” Kirby said, and explained about his shoulder being bruised, not dislocated. “I’ve got to make some calls, all right?”
He ran upstairs to call the others from the phone in his mom’s office. Kirby wasn’t sure he wanted to tell his parents about the parking lot thing. Not until after the meeting, anyway. Whatever happened, he didn’t want to do anything else to get them upset about roller hockey. Things were touchy enough already.
The E Street Skates sat on the curb in a row. Most of them were wearing their skates, except Marty, who had walked, and Kirby, who had biked over. Marty had his right arm in a blue cloth sling. Everyone wore serious expressions on their faces. Nobody was saying a word.
“This really bites,” Trevor finally said.
“You can say that again,” Lainie agreed. “There’s got to be something we can do about it! I mean, this is supposed to be a democracy, right? That parking lot should be of the people, by the people, and for the people, right?”
“What are you, Lincoln?” Trevor said with a little smile. They all laughed — the first time they’d laughed in the whole hour they’d been sitting there.
“Shut up,” Lainie said, giving Trevor a playful elbow in the arm. “Seriously, we’re citizens in this town, aren’t we? Just because we’re kids and we don’t vote, does that mean we don’t count for anything? How can they do this to us?”
“It’s called lawsuits, Lainie,” Jamal said. “Somebody could sue the town for a lot of money. Marty, for instance.” He rubbed his hands together and licked his lips greedily. “I’d be happy to be your lawyer, old pal!”
“Quit the clowning,” Marty said. “But you’re right — that’s why they’re not letting us play.”
/>
“Is there anyplace else we could go for games?” Kirby asked.
Everyone shook their heads. “That’s the whole trouble with this town,” Nick said disgustedly. “They never do anything cool for kids.”
“What about the May Fair?” Marty asked. “And the soccer league and the town pool? They do stuff. They just hate it when kids skate, that’s all.”
“It’s discrimination!” Lainie shouted. “I say we talk to the mayor!”
“And tell him what?” Trevor asked. “That we demand a skating rink? Yeah, he’ll really buy that because we said so.”
“Wait a minute,” Kirby said. “The mayor should at least hear our side. Maybe we can convince him we’re right.”
“Yeah, right,” Trevor said skeptically.
“Hey, it’s worth a try,” Marty said. “Nobody’s got any other ideas, and it’s better than doing nothing.”
“So what are our arguments?” Kirby asked.
“Well, that we need a rink, and the parking lot’s perfect for it…,” Lainie began.
“But he’ll say the pavement’s too messed up and that it’s dangerous for kids.” Marty held up his wounded arm to prove his point. “He’ll say we’d need insurance or something.”
“So the lot would need to be paved,” Kirby reasoned.
“Right. Which would cost like a zillion dollars,” Nick said, sighing. “And then you’d still have to get insurance. That costs money too.”
“Well, maybe we could get the town to pay for it,” Kirby said.
Trevor shook his head. “The mayor’s not going to listen when a bunch of kids come in to see him. It’ll be like, ’Oh, that’s nice, children. Go and play now. But not in the parking lot.’ “
“Well, then, how about we make a petition?” Jamal said.
“What’s a petition?” Nick asked.
“Nick, everyone knows what a petition is!” Trevor said, rolling his eyes. “It’s when you get people’s signatures in favor of whatever, and hand it in.”
“So, like, we get a hundred signatures, and then we give it to the mayor?” Nick asked, beginning to smile.
“A hundred? Try a thousand!” Lainie said excitedly. “Come on, gang, let’s go back to my house and write up our statement! We’re not stopping until we get our rink!”
Roller Hockey Radicals Page 5
