This was no surprise to the boys. In a dozen long bus rides–including this one to Florida–and a flight to Sweden and back, none of the Owls had ever seen Muck sound asleep. He might doze a bit, but sound asleep? Never.
“Must be someone lost,” said Data, now more sure than ever.
“I guess,” agreed Muck, sipping his coffee. He had things other than helicopters on his mind. “We’re on at eleven against Boston. No morning swim–understand?”
“Yes, sir,” Travis said.
Travis knew Muck was worried about the strong Boston entry in the Spring Break Tournament. Muck figured if they could only get by Boston, they stood a good chance of making it into the championship round.
“I want everybody on the bus by 10:00 a.m.”
“I’ll have them there,” Travis answered. He was team captain. It was his job.
“We’ve got enough time!”
Nish was adamant. For breakfast Mr. Dillinger had prepared his great specialty–pancakes, sausages, hash brown potatoes, toast, and, on top of the pancakes, a scoop of blueberry ice cream–and after cleaning up there was still an hour to go before they had to be on the bus with their hockey equipment.
“No swimming, though!” Travis reminded Nish.
“How much energy does it take to look?” Nish almost shouted, shaking his head in disgust.
Travis gave in. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s get it over with.”
Nish gave one of his stupid yells–“EEEEE-AWWWW-KEEEE!”–and bolted for the tent to retrieve his ludicrous X-ray glasses. He and Andy had come up with another dumb idea to spy upon the gorgeous young woman staying at the far end of the campground. They’d located her tent the evening before, and today they’d go down early, when everyone was beginning to stir to start the day, and maybe catch her headed off to the showers again.
“This time I won’t drop my glasses!” Nish promised.
They set off, with Nish well out in front and Andy closest behind him. Travis, the least enthusiastic, brought up the rear, talking to Lars, who wasn’t much interested either. Lars also thought the idea of X-ray glasses was about as silly and immature and childish as anyone could get. But he seemed to get a kick out of watching Nish be immature and childish.
Simon was coming along as well. Nish had been about to go into his chicken act, but a sharp look from Travis had stopped him. Simon just seemed to want to be part of the gang.
The path leading out of the Owls’ campsite crossed a dirt road, and they had to wait for a truck to pass. The truck had searchlights on both sides, and even though the lights weren’t on, the boys felt like they were being examined. There were two men in the truck, both wearing dark sunglasses, both staring at them as the truck moved slowly by.
They hurried along the network of paths until they came to the far end of the campground. It was empty but for the campsite where the beautiful young woman was staying. There were more bugs there, and more undergrowth. It was a site most people would avoid unless they had no choice, Travis thought, but he supposed these people wanted to be away from everyone else.
“Shhhhhhhh!” Nish whispered, turning back and placing his finger to his lips.
The six Owls–Nish, Andy, Data, Lars, Simon, and Travis–all fell silent and ducked into the thick undergrowth by the path, where Nish led them, slowly, toward the campsite.
“We’re almost there!” Nish whispered, holding up a hand to halt them.
He stopped, fumbled in his pocket, and removed the X-ray glasses. He put them on and pulled them tight to his nose and ears. This time, they wouldn’t fall off at the crucial moment.
Nish took a step forward and fell flat on his face, his foot catching on a vine. He stifled a curse and yanked off the glasses. Then he stepped forward again, crouching low. He broke through the foliage–Travis could make out the campsite just over Nish’s shoulder–and then repositioned his glasses. Travis could see Nish looking from one side to the other.
“I can’t see anything!” he whispered back.
“I told you they wouldn’t work,” Travis said.
Nish turned back, his eyes bulging behind the strange-looking glasses.
“It’s not the glasses, stupid. There’s no one here!”
Andy pushed through and checked the tents, without the help of X-ray glasses. He confirmed Nish’s findings. “They’re gone.”
“Maybe they’re at the showers,” Wilson suggested.
“Naw,” Andy said. “We would have passed them on the way.”
“I’ll bet they’re at the beach,” Nish said, his enthusiasm returning.
“We haven’t time,” Travis warned.
“Quit your whining,” Nish snapped. “We’ve got time. Besides, these things were made for the beach–remember the package?”
“We can make it,” said Andy.
“Let’s do it!” added Data.
Travis looked at Lars, who simply shrugged to suggest they might as well get it over with.
With Nish and Andy leading the way, the boys began running for the beach. There was a back trail leading from this end of the campground to the lake. Perhaps this was why they had come to this out-of-the-way site, Travis thought. It had its own virtually private access to the beach.
The trail twisted and turned. They crossed a wooden bridge spanning a small creek, climbed over a fallen tree, and then came to a final bend in the path. The lake flickered blue through the opening.
Nish held up his hand to stop everyone.
“They’re here!” he hissed.
Beyond the trees he could see two men on the beach pushing a rowboat out onto the water. The lovely young woman was also there, in a bathing suit. She was already in the water, holding onto the boat as they pushed it off the beach.
“This way!” Nish hissed, heading away from the trail toward a stand of trees near the sand.
For once, Travis agreed with Nish’s tactics. It was a public beach, but somehow this morning it felt like the public was not welcome. Travis didn’t know how, but these people gave the impression they did not want company, did not even want to be seen.
Nish held up his hand. “Down!”
The Owls all ducked down and scurried up to the thick stand of trees. Travis put an arm out and pushed away a branch. He could see very clearly now. The men were getting into the rowboat, which had been loaded with a large bundle of some kind. The woman, still standing in the water, began turning the boat with her hands, pushing it out into deeper water. The man with the shaved head, sitting in the middle, put oars into the oarlocks and began rowing, turning the boat some more. The man with the ponytail seemed to be tying rope around the bundle.
Now the woman was wading back through the water toward the shore.
“They work!”
The five other Owls turned at once toward Nish. He had his special X-ray glasses on, and he was leaning as far out from his cover as he dared, staring hard and grinning from ear to ear.
“Fantastic!” he said.
“Lemme see!” Andy almost shouted.
“Me too!” said Data.
“And me!” added Lars.
Travis turned, looking at Lars with surprise. Lars shrugged and looked sheepish. “I just want to see if they work,” he explained. It didn’t sound very convincing.
“Cost you a buck each,” Nish announced.
“What?” they said as one.
“A buck a look,” Nish said.
“No fair,” complained Andy.
Nish made no reply. He simply stared, grinned, and kept congratulating himself. “Beautiful…fantastic…I can’t believe it…”
Andy couldn’t take it any more. “All right! I’m in. C’mon, lemme see outta them!”
“Who else?” Nish had to know first.
“Me,” said Data.
“I guess me,” added Lars.
“Me,” said Simon in a quiet voice.
“Trav?” Nish asked.
Travis couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “I already pai
d for half of them. Remember?”
“Oh, yeah,” Nish said. “Sorry.” He sounded more sorry for himself than for Travis, however.
“Lemme see,” said Andy.
“Everybody’s agreed then?” Nish said. “A dollar each.”
Everyone except Travis nodded.
Nish smiled and took off the glasses, handing them first to Andy. Andy fumbled with them, dropped them, grabbed them up, cleaned them with his fingers, and pushed them on. He moved a branch away and stared out toward the young woman, who was still standing at the edge of the water, watching the progress of the rowboat.
“Nothin’!” Andy protested.
“They work fine for me,” said Nish.
“My turn!” said Data.
Andy handed them over. Data put the glasses on and looked through the gap in the branches. He stared a long time before saying anything.
“I…think I see something,” he said, finally.
Data slowly removed the glasses and gave them to Lars, who looked quickly.
“Nothing.”
Lars handed the glasses to Travis, who knew even before he looked that he would see nothing. The lenses were ridged, so they gave a fuzzy-edged look to whatever you looked at, almost like a videotape on pause. Whatever the effect was, it wasn’t X-ray.
“A rip-off,” Travis pronounced. He handed the glasses to Simon, who didn’t even bother trying them on.
Nish was still smiling. “I can’t help it if they don’t work for you. They worked fine for me. And Data.”
Data didn’t know how to respond. “I…guess,” he said.
Travis looked back toward the water.
“Look!” he said.
“We have been!” said Andy.
“No! In the boat!”
The X-ray glasses and the beautiful young woman were forgotten as the six boys turned their attention to the rowboat, now well out on the water. The rower was standing up, as if keeping watch, and the man with the ponytail was attaching something to the tied-up bundle. The two men then pulled at the bundle and moved it to one side of the rowboat.
With an enormous effort, the men lifted the bundle, and Travis now saw that attached to it were two heavy concrete blocks. They steadied it on the gunwale for a moment, and then pushed it over. It splashed heavily and sank. The shift of weight caused the rowboat to rock so violently that the man with the ponytail fell back heavily. But the boat didn’t tip over completely. The one with the shaved head quickly began rowing back to shore, where the woman waded out into the water once again to catch the boat and haul it up onto the sand so they could jump out.
“What do you think they dumped?” Andy asked.
“A body?” Data suggested.
Data–the most naive member of the Screech Owls–had the wildest imagination and came up with the silliest, most ridiculous statements.
But this time no one laughed. And no one had a better idea.
“We’ve got a bus to catch,” Travis said.
The others seemed relieved to be brought back to reality.
“Let’s go before they see us,” said Nish.
He turned, took one look at the X-ray glasses in his hand, and tossed them into the bush. “What a waste,” he said.
The X-ray escapade was the talk of the Screech Owls’ dressing room as the team prepared to meet the powerful Boston Mini-Bruins. Some of the Owls laughed so hard they had tears in their eyes. Nish, of course, was convinced his tricking the others to pay a dollar each for a look erased the trick the joke store had played on him when he bought the glasses.
“No way anyone’s going to make a fool out of Wayne Nishikawa,” he announced as he began lacing up his skates.
“Is that right?” Sarah said, fumbling in the side pocket of her equipment bag.
“That is correct,” Nish grandly announced.
Sarah pulled out the Polaroid snapshot Data had taken in the lineup for the Tower of Terror.
“What’s this, then?” she asked no one in particular.
Nish looked up from tightening his left skate. His jaw dropped as he realized what he was looking at: a glorious photograph of the bird poop he had worn on the ride.
“Where’d you get that?” he demanded, the smile gone from his gaping mouth.
“Oh,” teased Sarah, “let’s just say a little birdie gave it to me.”
“You better hand that over!” Nish said, standing up and falling at the same time, as his untied skates gave way.
Everyone in the dressing room again started howling with laughter. Nish scrambled back to his feet and began advancing across the room toward Sarah, who was quickly stuffng the photograph away.
“You’re the big deal-maker,” she said. “I’ll make a deal with you, okay?”
“I’m not paying anything for that.”
“No money,” she said. “You take us to the championship, the evidence is yours to destroy.”
Nish stopped halfway. He mulled it over a moment, then stared fiercely at Sarah. She had him; Nish couldn’t resist a challenge.
“Agreed,” he said.
Too bad they didn’t have a few more embarrassing pictures of Nish, Travis thought halfway through the opening period.
The Boston Mini-Bruins had been a force. They had worried the Owls during the warm-up–no fog this time–with their size and shots, and Travis had worried himself when he failed to hit the crossbar on any of his pre-game shots.
The Mini-Bruins had taken an early two-goal lead, scoring first on a fluke breakaway that Jesse Highboy gave them when he tried a drop pass, and then on a point shot that went in between Jenny Staples’ pads.
Muck had not been amused. He had warned them about the good teams from the Boston area. He had reminded them that many of the best players in the National Hockey League–Brian Leetch, for instance–were coming out of programs similar to that of the Mini-Bruins. “You’ll probably be playing against some future NHLers,” Muck had said.
And yet, if someone had walked into the Lakeland arena this hot March morning and been asked to point out the two peewee hockey players most likely to reach the NHL, they would have pointed to the Owls’ top centre, Sarah Cuthbertson, and the big kid on defence, Wayne Nishikawa. Sarah’s deal with Nish was working wonders. He was playing a magnificent game–blocking shots, completing long breakaway passes to Dmitri and Travis, playing the point perfectly, and carrying the puck, for once, at exactly the right time.
How to figure out Nish? To Travis, Nish was his best friend as well as the silliest kid he knew. He was a lazy hockey player one game, the hardest worker the next. This, fortunately, was one of those good times for Nish. He got the Owls back into the game on a brilliant move when he jumped unexpectedly into the play. Sarah had taken the puck up ice and had curled off toward the right corner. Travis knew this was his signal to rush the net, and he raced in, fully expecting her pass. Instead, Sarah threw a saucer pass out into what seemed like nowhere. The puck flew lightly through the air, over the outstretched stick of her checker, and landed flat, perfectly, in open ice, where Nish, racing up past the Mini-Bruins’ backcheckers, gobbled it up on his stick, deked once, and, using a surprised defenceman as a screen, roofed a hard shot the goaltender never even saw. Two minutes later, Nish fed Sarah a perfect breakaway pass that tied the game at two goals apiece.
How, Travis wondered, could Sarah and Nish seem such a natural mix on the ice and so different off the ice? When they weren’t playing hockey, they were often at each other’s throats, Nish baiting Sarah with his big mouth, Sarah refusing to allow him to get away with any of his nonsense. But watching them play this game, watching the way Nish jumped into Sarah’s outstretched arms after she had tied the game, Travis had to wonder if, in fact, Sarah and Nish were actually quite fond of each other.
The game remained tied right into the final minutes, Jenny Staples brilliant in the Owls’ goal, the Mini-Bruins’ goaltender spectacular in his end, stopping first Dmitri and then Travis on clear breakaways.
&nb
sp; With less than a minute to go, Nish broke out of his own end and hit Dmitri with a hard, accurate pass as Dmitri cut across centre, Travis criss-crossing with him so they could change wings.
Travis loved this play. There was nothing he liked better than coming in on his off-wing, a left-hand shot on the right side, perfect for one-timers into the corner, where he turned, looking for a passing play. He saw Travis and fired the puck across, Travis one-timing it perfectly off the crossbar!
A Mini-Bruins defenceman knocked the puck down, turned, and fired it high to get it out of the Mini-Bruins’ end. Travis turned fast, just in time to see Nish floating through the air like a basketball player about to dunk a ball, only Nish had his glove held high and had somehow snared the puck just before it made it across the blueline. The linesman signalled the play was onside.
Nish dropped the puck even before his own skates touched the ice again. The defenceman who had shot the puck was down to block it, sliding on his side toward Nish.
Nish poked the puck and hopped again, this time right over the sliding defender, the puck squeezing through under his knees, the only space large enough.
Nish was in alone.
The Mini-Bruins’ goaltender charged to cut off the angle. Nish deked once and sent a perfect backhand to Travis, who had an unexpected second chance–except this time the net was empty. He made no mistake, the puck bulging the twine in the centre of the net.
The Owls had won!
“I’ll take my picture now,” Nish announced after the cheering and back-slapping and high-fiving had died down in the Owls’ dressing room. Even Muck had come to shake Nish’s hand, while shaking his own head at the same time. Travis figured Muck was as baffed as he was by Nish’s erratic bursts of brilliance.
“This just gets us into the championship game,” Sarah said. “You still have to win it.”
“Aw, come on!”
“That was the deal, okay?” Sarah said.
“No fair!” Nish said, slamming his gloves and helmet into his equipment bag. He slumped in his seat, exhausted.
The Complete Screech Owls, Volume 2 Page 11
