by David Skuy
He quickly scooped up the muffins. What a waste. His mom was going to freak. And when he thought about it, he could have just sold them the muffins and it would have been over. All they had really wanted was something to eat. Now he had made a total fool of himself, ruined the muffins, and given Jake that idea about Julia. One comment on Facebook and it would spread like wildfire.
A car horn blasted. He looked out the window, then up at the clock. His heart started pounding. He was going to be late — again. Coach Hilton had warned him. The captain was supposed to set the example. But he hadn’t even finished closing up. The horn blasted again, this time even louder.
He would have to finish later. He rushed to turn off the lights, punched the numbers into the alarm, locked the front door and raced to the van.
“Sorry, Mom,” he said, slamming the door shut. She drove off.
“Was there a problem?”
“No. Nothing. I just got … distracted.”
“My goodness, Charlie. I waited five minutes for you at the corner. Cars were honking at me like crazy.”
He punched his thigh. “I forgot my knapsack. How dumb can I get? I have my homework in it.”
“Do you want to turn back?”
He shook his head. “We’re late as it is.”
“We can swing by after the game,” she said. “Okay?”
“Yeah. Sure … thanks.”
“So who did you say you’re playing tonight?”
“The Wildcats — Jake’s team.”
“Sounds ‘epic.’” His mom flicked her eyebrows. When he didn’t respond, she peered at him closely. “Isn’t that what you kids say?”
“Sorta,” he said. “It’s just that when you say it sounds a bit …”
“Are you suggesting I’m too old to say ‘epic’?”
“Not too old … just maybe not young enough anymore.”
“How about if I added ‘Okay, dawg,’ or ‘Got ya, dude,’ or how about ‘Awesome, bro’.”
“Not really helping, Mom. But I think you’re cool.”
The light changed. “Thanks. But somehow I doubt that,” she said, laughing.
Charlie looked at a street sign. They were still at least twenty minutes away. Hilton was going to kill him. “Do you mind if I listen to the radio?”
“Sure. Just not too loud.” She slapped the wheel. “Another red light. We must have bad luck tonight. We might be a few minutes late, Charlie.”
It felt like it took forever to get to the rink. He practically jumped out of the van before she had even come to a stop. He ran to the back to get his gear and sticks.
“Charlie,” his mom called out.
“What is it?” he snapped. Didn’t she realize he was late?
“I forgot to thank you for closing up,” she said. “You’re a great help, and I don’t tell you often enough.”
Did she have to say that? If she only knew what a mess he had left: muffins out, crumbs on the floor, half a sandwich on the counter. If he told her she’d probably race back and do it herself, and then he’d never hear the end of it. Best to tell her after the game. “No big deal … It was nothing … Thanks.”
Her window rolled up and she drove to the parking lot. He pushed the door open and shuffled as fast as he could to the dressing room.
Hilton had his Five Golden Rules. Charlie was going to add one: Don’t let Jake and his crew get to you. Never again!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
David Skuy spent most of his childhood playing one sport or another — hockey, soccer, football, rugby. Now he is a writer and lawyer who lives in Toronto, Ontario with his wife and two kids. He still plays hockey once a week and remains a die-hard Leafs fan.
He began writing the Game Time series to try to capture the competition, the challenges, the friendships and the rivalries that make sports so much fun.
David Skuy won the 2012 Silver Birch Award for his novel Undergrounders.