9
We, the people of Valemont, hereby demand that the parking lot of the former cardboard box factory be repaved immediately and that the citizens of Valemont have free use of the lot for adult-supervised activities, such as roller hockey, until such time as the property is sold.
The petition was ready for signing. Mr. Bledsoe had gone over it and approved it. He’d made copies of it for all the members of the team. They were just about to go back out into the street to start getting signatures, when Kirby suddenly realized something.
“You know what, guys — we’re forgetting some people here.”
“Who?” Nick asked. But Marty and Lainie were already nodding in agreement.
“The Bates Avenue Bad Boys,” Marty said. “You’re right, Kirby. We may hate their guts, but we need their help for this. We’ve got to get them involved in the petition drive if we’re going to get a thousand signatures.”
“Well, I’m not going over there,” Jamal said, crossing his arms.
“Me neither,” Nick said. “Those guys will just beat us up.”
“Fine, we’ll go without you,” Lainie said. “But they’re going to want the lot paved and opened, too.”
“I can’t go right now,” Trevor said. “My cousins are over for Sunday dinner.”
“And I’ve got to stay off my skates for now,” Marty said.
“Well, I guess it’s just me and Kirby,” Lainie said. “No problem.”
“Don’t do it, Lainie!” Jamal protested. “Those guys will eat you two for lunch.”
“I’m not afraid of them, and neither is Kirby,” Lainie responded. “Are you, Kirby?”
“Nope,” Kirby lied. He was terrified, but he wasn’t going to say so.
“You’re sure?” Marty said. “Maybe I’ll walk over and meet you there.”
“You wouldn’t be much good in a fight,” Lainie said, flicking a finger at his sling strap. “Thanks, anyway. Come on, Kirby.”
As she skated and Kirby rode toward Bates Avenue, Kirby looked over at Lainie. “You’re really not scared?” he asked her.
“’Course I am. Are you crazy?” she replied. “Aren’t you?”
“Yup.”
“Well, do your best to hide it, because here we are,” Lainie said. “Follow me.”
The Bad Boys were practicing as usual. As Lainie and Kirby approached, one of them delivered an illegal body check to another. The second boy slammed into a parked car, denting it a little.
“Yeah! Yeah! I decked you, Slater!” Killer’s voice rang out. “In your face!”
Slater dragged himself back up and shook himself off. “Hey,” he said, “look who’s here.”
“Whoa, it’s the geek and his girlfriend! Wanna play a pickup game? No adults around to protect you now!”
“We’ve got something more important to talk about,” Lainie said simply.
“Oh, yeah? Like what?” All the Bad Boys were gathering around now. Lainie handed Killer a copy of the petition.
“This,” Lainie said. “We’re circulating a petition to hand in to the mayor, to get him to pave the parking lot and let us skate there again.”
Killer stared at the page and nodded. “‘We, the people…’ Not bad. You make this up?” he asked.
“Uh-huh. We need your help getting signatures. At least a thousand by next week.”
Killer spit on the ground. “No problem,” he said. “We’re gonna get way more signatures than you losers.”
“In your dreams,” Lainie said, tossing her hair back off her forehead.
“We’ll see,” Killer said. “Hey, guys, go get everyone you see to sign one of these papers. If they won’t sign, break their necks.” He grinned and looked at Lainie. “Salesmanship,” he said. “Now, get out of here, and take your geek boyfriend with you. Got it?”
Lainie narrowed her eyes dangerously but didn’t answer. Instead, she said, “Come on, Kirby,” and started skating away. Kirby followed her before the Bad Boys decided to chase them.
“That was cool!” he said. “You were so awesome, Lainie!”
Lainie grinned. “Thanks,” she said. “I thought I was pretty good, too. Now let’s see if those jerks manage to get any signatures. They’re not going to get more than us, that’s for sure. Not if I have to spend every last minute this week on it.”
“Me, too!” Kirby said. He really admired Lainie. She sure was brave. Even though she’d admitted to him that she was afraid, she never let the Bad Boys know it. Kirby was sure his own teeth had been chattering the whole time.
Kirby was shy at first about ringing the doorbells of people he didn’t know. And when they opened their doors, he stumbled on the speech he’d prepared. But after Marty called him and it turned out that he was having the same problem, Kirby didn’t feel so bad. At least he wasn’t the only one.
So the two boys worked out a plan. They would set up a table outside Reilly’s Sporting Goods, downtown. Lots of people came by there, and the ones who went into Reilly’s were already interested in sports. There would be a poster asking people to sign the petition, so all he and Marty would have to do would be to answer questions.
This plan turned out to be a big success. After only fifteen minutes, they had gathered twenty signatures! Seeing the crowd gathering in front of his store, Mr. Reilly came out to see what was happening.
“What’s this you’re up to?” he asked, looking over the poster they’d hand-painted. “‘Help make the roller hockey rink a reality’? What roller hockey rink?”
“The parking lot at the old cardboard box factory,” Marty explained. “We want the town to pave it and insure it so that kids can play there.”
“Well, I think that’s a great idea!” Mr. Reilly said. “This town doesn’t pay enough attention to recreation for kids, if you ask me! Besides, it’ll help me sell more sports equipment. Where do I sign?”
Kirby showed him where, and Mr. Reilly signed with a flourish. “There! Now, let me know if there’s anything else I can do to help.” Turning to the people walking down the street, he shouted, “Hey, everyone! Come and look at this!”
Marty gave Kirby the thumbs-up sign, along with a big smile. “Yes!” he whispered.
“Well, isn’t this something! Over one thousand signatures!” Mayor Casper Huggins rubbed a hand over his shiny bald head in wonderment. “There are only five thousand people in all of Valemont — that’s one in five… twenty percent — my, my!”
Kirby could almost see the mayor calculating votes in the next election.
“Six hundred twenty-seven of the signatures came from us,” Lainie whispered to Kirby just loud enough for the Bad Boys, sitting across the aisle of the town council chamber, to hear. The Bad Boys sat there and smoldered.
At the front of the room, Marty and Killer had just handed over the petition. Now, as they returned to their seats, the five town council members gathered around and read Lainie’s statement. They nodded, impressed.
“I move we vote on this,” said one council member, taking off her glasses.
“I second the motion,” said another, raising his hand.
The vote was unanimous, and everyone in the crowd cheered. Every member of both teams was there, along with at least half the parents. Hockey was a big issue in their families; Kirby could see that. And so could the council.
“Ahem,” Mayor Huggins said, “can we please have quiet? Thank you. Now, the council has voted in favor of the proposition. I therefore proclaim that the parking lot be paved and temporarily put at the disposal of Valemont’s citizens, for their supervised use — subject to the insurer’s approval, and funding, of course.” He cleared his throat again and sat down. “Anything else before we adjourn this meeting?” he asked.
“I have a question,” Lainie got up and said. Everyone looked at her, including Kirby. “Does what you just said mean that we have to pay for it ourselves?”
“Ahem,” Mayor Huggins coughed as murmuring rose in the room. “Well, yes… of course, the tow
n budget has no provision for this. I can’t direct town personnel to make the improvements without assuring them of payment.”
“Well, how much will it cost?” Mr. Bledsoe asked from his seat.
“Ahem, well, let’s see… somewhere in the neighborhood of five thousand dollars, plus another thousand for insurance.”
“Six thousand dollars!?” The murmur in the room became a roar, as people leapt to their feet.
“I’m willing to make a personal contribution to begin the collection of funds,” the mayor said hurriedly. Kirby was new in town, but even he knew there was an election coming up that November, and that the mayor was running for reelection. “I pledge five hundred dollars!” he said.
Everyone cheered. “Count me in for two-fifty!” Mr. Bledsoe shouted, to more applause. Ten minutes later, the amount needed had shrunk to only three thousand dollars.
“We can do this,” Lainie said, turning to her teammates. “We got signatures — all we have to do is go around asking for money. Easy!”
“Nuh-uh,” Jamal said. “Asking for money is harder. Why don’t we have a yard sale or something?”
“I could bake some things, and you could have a bake sale!” Kirby’s mom volunteered.
Kirby’s heart swelled in his chest as all the other kids thanked his mom. Kirby gave her a big hug.
“We could sell lemonade,” Jamal suggested.
“How about a car wash?” Kirby was startled to hear Killer’s voice in his ear. The big brute’s arm went around Kirby’s shoulder. “We can do this,” Killer said, smiling at the E Street Skates.
Lainie smiled broadly. “Guys,” she said, “this is going to be a breeze!”
10
It wasn’t a breeze. Nothing like one. It was two weeks of backbreaking, sweaty work. But none of the Skates or the Bad Boys complained. They could all see the money adding up, quarter by quarter, dollar by dollar.
Through the car wash, the yard sale, and the bake sale, Kirby met a lot of people in town.
Of course, there were some people who didn’t want to help out, either because they thought the paving should be paid for by whoever wanted to use the lot or because they thought skaters were a nuisance. But most people gave at least a little to the cause. They seemed to like the idea of young people trying to do something good for themselves and the town.
It was the hottest time of the summer, though, and that wound up being the hard part. Kirby would come home exhausted after taking his turn working at the bake sale or yard sale or car wash. Sometimes he’d take a shower, but other times, he was too tired even for that and just flopped down on his bed to rest.
By the end of the second week, they had been done it. Three thousand dollars in cash had been raised. When they all showed up at the weekly town council meeting and handed the money over to the mayor, he was speechless — which was saying a lot for Mayor Huggins.
After a few seconds, he managed to say, “I’m — I am — what a surprise! I congratulate all of you; you’ve done an — an outstanding job!” Turning to his town council, he added, “I want this work done as soon as possible! When can we start?”
“Tomorrow,” one of the council members replied. “I’ll get a work crew on it first thing in the morning.”
“Splendid!” Mayor Huggins was beaming. “Again, let me congratulate you all. You have done Valemont a great service. Your town thanks you, and I thank you.”
Three days later, the parking lot had been cleaned of all litter and freshly, beautifully paved. Instead of white lines for parking spaces, the town had actually painted a hockey rink — complete with faceoff circles, goal creases, and a blue line across the center!
Gathering for their first game on the new rink, the E Street Skates stood opposite the Bates Avenue Bad Boys.
“Hey, you!” Lainie yelled at one of the Bad Boys as the two teams prepared for the big game. “Don’t spit out your gum here. You’re ruining our new rink! What’s wrong with you?”
“Oh. Sorry,” the player said, and picked it up, not even giving Lainie an argument.
Boy, Kirby thought, Lainie sure is tough. When she gives orders, people listen. He wished he was more like that.
Marty was there with his parents, but he wasn’t in uniform, and he wasn’t playing. His shoulder had healed — mostly. But the doctor and Marty’s parents were not ready to let him take a chance of hurting it again so soon.
Marty had told the Skates he’d be ready in about another week. For now, he could coach them, but they were going to have to beat the Bad Boys without him in the lineup.
That wasn’t going to be easy, either. The Bad Boys were really charged up. Not only had they failed to beat the Skates last time, but the Skates had gotten more signatures and raised more money than they had.
The Skates tested the new surface for a while, getting used to the feel of the pavement. Then Marty brought them into a pregame huddle. “Okay, guys. They’re probably going to come out playing rough and trying to scare us. But we’ve got a big audience today,” he said, indicating the crowd that was congregated outside the rink’s boundaries. “So if the Bad Boys do anything more than touch you, be sure to scream like you’re in extreme agony, and I bet the adults will make them stop. Other than that, Trevor, you need to keep an eye out for Kirby. They’re expecting you to take all the shots. So if they double-team you, Kirby will be free.”
“Okay,” Trevor said, frowning. “But don’t worry, I’ll be able to get the shots off.”
“Maybe,” Marty said. “Nick, you have to stay back the whole time. No more two-on-one rushes for them, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Okay, then, let’s go. Put your hands in here.”
They did their “Go… Skates!” cheer, then went out to face off with the Bad Boys.
For the first five minutes or so, the game stayed scoreless. Trevor was hogging the puck as usual. Even when Kirby’s man came over to double-team him, Trevor didn’t try to pass to Kirby. Instead, he fired off a quick shot at the goal, which the goalie easily handled.
On the other end, the defense was playing better. Jamal had new skates, and both he and Nick were having an easier time skating on the new, smoother surface.
Finally Spike took a shot that ricocheted off Jamal’s stick and straight past Lainie into the goal. That broke the scoreless tie, and it meant the Skates would have to come from behind.
Kirby decided that Trevor wasn’t ever going to pass it to him. In which case, Kirby wasn’t going to wait around for the pass to come. Instead, when his man left to double-team Trevor on the other side of the forward zone, Kirby headed straight for the goal crease and stood there, waiting for Trevor’s inevitable shot.
When the shot caromed off the goalie’s blocking pad, Kirby was ready. All he had to do was guide the puck back into the net! As the Bad Boys’ goalie stood in shock, Kirby jumped so high in the air that he felt like he was flying. The Skates all mobbed him, slapping him on the back and on the helmet and yelling their heads off.
It was Kirby’s second goal as an E Street Skate. And he’d hardly even touched the puck!
“Way to go, Kirby!” he heard his mother shouting from the sideline. “Whoo-oo!”
“All right!” Marty said, giving him a high five. In a low voice he added, “Listen, Kirby, keep going to the goal, because Trevor’s never going to change.”
“Right,” Kirby said, flashing a huge grin.
“Let’s see if we can catch them off guard again.” Marty slapped him on the back and sent him over to the faceoff circle.
The Bad Boys scored once more, right before halftime, on an awesome slap shot from Killer. Lainie flinched in spite of herself, and the puck went in, just over her shoulder.
“Don’t feel bad, Lainie,” Kirby told her at halftime as they cooled down by pouring water over their heads. “That goal would have gone by anybody.”
“I should have had it,” Lainie insisted. She slammed her stick on the ground.
In the se
cond half, the Skates rallied. Trevor, angry at being pushed around by the Bad Boys’ defensemen, whipped a slap shot by their goalie. That tied the game, and Trevor loved every minute of it. This was his chance to gloat, and he took it.
“In your face!” he said, pointing at the defenders, who nearly lost it when they heard that. They glared at Trevor with pure fury in their eyes.
“Shut up, punk!” Killer shouted, and Spike had to hold him back.
“Do it in the game,” Kirby overheard him say in Killer’s ear. “Wait for your moment.”
The game grew tense. Everyone knew that a fight could start at any moment. Then, very late in the game, one of the Bad Boy defenders saw that Trevor was looking the other way. He quickly gave him a sharp elbow in the back.
“Ow!” Trevor yelled. “Hey, come on! That’s a penalty!”
But there was no referee to call penalties. It had always been understood that if anyone did anything outrageous, they were penalized by common agreement. But this time, the Bad Boy defender just shook his head and went back to work.
Trevor was really fuming now. In spite of Marty’s warning to take it easy, he couldn’t resist getting even. Next time he got the puck, he tried skating right through the defense and got into it with his shoulder first.
“That’s a definite penalty!” Killer yelled, staring straight at Marty.
Marty nodded, disgusted. “You’re off, Trevor.”
“What!?” Trevor was beside himself.
“You checked him. You’re off.”
“But he elbowed me first!”
“Nobody saw it,” Marty said. “Sorry.”
“Man,” Trevor steamed. “We need a ref around here.”
Kirby agreed. “Maybe one of the parents could do it,” he suggested. But no one agreed with him. A ref would need to be impartial, they all said, and on skates besides.
Trevor skated to the penalty box, fighting back angry tears, while the Bad Boys hooted and cheered.
Roller Hockey Radicals Page 6
