by David Skuy
“Focus on your game,” Washington said. “Leave the lines to me, please.”
Rocket’s face was burning. “Sure. I was just wondering … Sorry, Coach.” He turned around and shuffled back to his spot.
“You give him your phone number?” Fryer said.
Rocket ignored him. Kyle and Nathan were looking at him intently. He could read the desperation in their eyes.
“He’s going to try,” he said weakly.
What else could he say? In silence, the three of them watched the play.
Cash passed to Hoffer on the left, who rang it around the boards. Gruny continued in to forecheck, while Cash and Hoffer peeled off for a change. Bourque and his left winger hopped onto the ice. Bossy and Fryer shifted to the door. Rocket gave Kyle’s thigh a punch, then scrunched over to join his linemates. Cash and Hoffer sat beside Rocket. Kyle and Nathan stayed where they were. They could’ve been in another country. It didn’t seem like they would ever get on the ice again.
“Seven minutes,” Cash said. “Three more shifts each, boys. Let’s get out there and get off.”
Rocket tried not to roll his eyes too obviously. Cash was the king of the two-minute shift. Bourque had even made a few comments about it under his breath.
Blue got it out of their zone and came in on Red’s defence. Gruny came off and Bourque’s right winger went on. Rocket gave himself a shake and straightened his shoulders. Coach Sonia had been a stickler about how her players sat on the bench. “How you sit is how you play,” she always said. He had to fire up. The chirping and Kyle and Nathan not playing were bringing him down. Good players couldn’t let that happen.
Red gained possession. A smart pass up the middle from Rainer to Bourque got the puck out of their zone. Bourque skated it over the red line and chipped it in deep. Then he curled toward the bench.
“That’s how you change,” Rocket muttered to himself. Maybe Cash would take a lesson.
“Rocket’s line is up,” Washington said. “Kyle, you take left. Nathan, you’re on right.”
“Coach? I got to get the hat trick,” Bossy said.
“Save it for a real game,” Washington said.
Bossy slumped back.
Rocket joyfully threw himself over the boards and stormed into Blue’s end. Now they had to make something happen!
The right defenceman held the puck behind his net. Rocket stopped in the slot and waited. The guy was a right-handed shot, which meant he would probably come out the right side. Rocket shifted over a few metres. Immediately, the defenceman came out the left side and passed to his winger set up against the wall.
Bad move. Nathan crunched him against the boards and the puck squibbed back to the corner. Rocket was on it first. He turned and faced the zone. Kyle was set up at the wall by the hash marks. Rocket rang the puck around the boards to him and then scooted in behind the net. Kyle bulled his way down low to the corner, pressured by the right winger. Rocket noticed Nathan take a position in the slot. Blue’s right defenceman went to the puck, but before he could get a stick on it, Kyle shoved it to Rocket.
Nathan faked right then slipped past the defenceman’s left shoulder and held his stick out wide right. Rocket snapped a pass to him.
Nathan took it, and the puck became a blur. It was a bullet drive over the goalie’s right shoulder. The goalie didn’t move.
A goal.
Rocket jumped up in the air.
“One touch — one goal,” Rocket said to Nathan. He gave his winger’s pads a slap. “Shooting percentage is a pathetic one hundred percent.”
Kyle and Nathan punched gloves.
“Let’s not waste time celebrating,” Rocket said to them. “Cash is probably crying to get on the ice.”
That got their attention. They skated quickly back to centre. Rainer went over to Nathan.
“Nice snipe,” he said.
Rocket liked Rainer. He never chirped at guys and he seemed fair. His defence partner, Big Z, didn’t say much, but he seemed to be an okay guy, too. Rocket sneaked a glance at the Red bench. Cash was standing and talking to Washington. The coach listened impassively — no line change yet. Rocket adopted a reverse grip. He had to win the faceoff. This was Kyle and Nathan’s last chance. Possession was key. His hand could feel better tomorrow. The hot beanbag had done wonders.
The referee held the puck over the dot. Blue’s centre had a reverse grip also. Rocket had already gone up against him. He was fairly straight ahead on the draw. Rocket gave Nathan a glance and nodded toward the sideboards. Nathan nodded back ever so slightly. The ref blew his whistle.
Rocket changed his grip. The puck dropped. Instead of trying to draw it back, he jabbed the shaft of his stick forward to block Blue’s centre, and the next second he swung his stick to whack the puck with his forehand. His right hand felt like it was on fire. Maybe he’d overestimated his healing. No time to worry about that.
Nathan retrieved the puck from the boards and swooped in on Blue’s defence. Rocket hustled to support. About two metres from the blue line, Nathan lobbed the puck up high to the opposite corner. The right defenceman went back tentatively. Kyle slipped inside, lifted his stick and stole the puck. The right defenceman managed to press Kyle against the wall. Rocket went over to help and Kyle chipped the puck to him. Blue’s centre came at him from the slot. Rocket waited and then gave it back to Kyle. Rocket braced himself. The centre jumped up.
Anticipating the hit, Rocket had pressed himself against the boards. The centre ended up getting the worst of it and staggered back. Rocket didn’t allow himself to enjoy the sight. Kyle had fed Nathan in the other corner. Blue’s left defenceman struggled with him for possession. Nathan sheltered the puck with his wide frame. Rocket circled the net and Nathan kicked it over. The cycle was on. Again and again, Rocket, Kyle and Nathan circled, pushed, fought and pressed. Again and again, they kept the Blue team at bay, first in the right corner, then the left. The few times the puck was sent to the point, Rainer and Big Z supported them by making perfect passes to either Kyle or Nathan.
Then, Rocket had the puck in the deep corner. Nathan battled in front of the net for position. Kyle drifted into the high slot. Rocket’s eyes lit up. He could tell his linemates saw the opportunity, too. Rocket faked a move behind the net and cut diagonally to the faceoff circle on the goalie’s right. The right defenceman covering him was too slow getting over. Rocket curled on his inside edges, dropped his left shoulder and put the puck on his backhand. The defenceman tried a poke check, but too late. The goalie came out, pads in a V, glove shoulder height. Nathan sealed off the left defenceman, clearing a path for Rocket, who brought the puck to his forehand and reared back. The left defenceman threw himself to the ice, stick extended. Rocket took one more step and whipped the puck across his body to Kyle.
The goalie dropped to a butterfly. Kyle darted right and let loose a powerful wrister. The puck clinked the post, glove-side — a goal! Kyle nodded emphatically and slapped the ice with his stick. Rocket threw his arms around Kyle’s shoulders. Nathan held his arms wide and the three of them gave each other a bear hug.
“Okay, maybe this shift is the highlight,” Nathan said gleefully.
“If Gold wants puck possession, then he just got it,” Rocket said.
Rainer and Big Z slapped Kyle’s pads.
“That was a beauty,” Rainer said. “Can’t cycle the puck better than that.”
Big Z punched all three of their gloves, and with that the two defenceman headed to the bench.
As much as he’d love to keep playing, Rocket followed. He was tired.
“I think Cash wants a change,” Rocket said to Kyle and Nathan.
Cash was already at centre.
“Two goals in one shift,” Rocket said as they skated off. “I bet even Alvo is smiling now.”
He could only hope that was true.
CHAPTER 13
Rocket had nowhere to go. He stood on the edge of a cliff, the ground beneath his heels crumbling. Suddenly two hands
hit his chest, sending him flying backward. Rocket plunged into the abyss below, his fingers clawing at the air, his arms waving desperately. Above, he could see Connor on the edge, laughing and holding a huge boulder. Connor threw the boulder after Rocket, who kept falling faster and faster. But the boulder was faster still.
Rocket looked over his shoulder. He was about to hit the ground. When he turned back, the boulder was there. It—
“Bryan! Breakfast is ready.”
Rocket sat up with a start. He was in a strange bedroom. Why?
Devin peered in. “My mom wanted me to wake you up. We’re eating.”
The beanbag fell off the bed onto the floor. An incredible feeling of relief washed over Rocket. No Connor. No boulder. “Devin, you saved my life. I was falling to my death in a canyon, and a huge boulder was about to crush me. One more second and I was a goner.”
Devin gave him an odd look. “I’ve read that stress and anxiety can affect our dreams,” he said. “The falling dream is common for people who are facing a lot of stress and feel like things are out of their control. Maybe there’s a connection between your dream and this being the last day of training camp?”
“Um, maybe,” Rocket said.
“Anyway, you should probably get going. Dad says we’re leaving soon.”
“No problem. I’ll hustle.”
Devin left. Rocket hopped out of bed and raced to the shower.
Devin was right. Rocket was totally nervous about today. Last day of training camp — D-Day. The coaches were making cuts to get down to twenty-eight players for the exhibition season.
Rocket showered quickly and towelled off. He knew worrying wouldn’t help; he just didn’t know how to stop. What if he didn’t make the cut? Would they keep him as a reserve player in case they wanted to call him up later? Could he still get on a Junior A team for this season? And if he did make it, then what about his mom and Maddy? They’d be stuck in that neighbourhood for the next few years, and Maddy would have to watch out for Connor and the Brigade on her own. But if he didn’t make it, he’d never get his family out of there …
That boulder felt real enough right now — the stress was beyond intense.
His worries still racing through his head, Rocket got dressed and went upstairs.
Strohler was at the table with Kimberly and Devin, the receiver in his ear glowing blue.
“We can’t stop an NHL team from drafting Aaron,” Strohler was saying. “To a certain extent it depends on the luck of the draw. If Aaron goes number one, and I think he will, then whoever wins the lottery will take him. But that’s where I can help. I’ll get him the best contract and set up tons of endorsements. In a year or two, you’ll all be set for life.”
Rocket sat next to Devin.
“Yes, Chris, you’re totally right,” Strohler said, rolling his eyes. “That’s why we need to get him an offer sheet when he’s an RFA …”
“What’s he saying?” Kimberly said to Devin. She handed him a plate of eggs, bacon and toast.
“He’s talking to Cash’s dad about the NHL draft,” he said.
Strohler pushed his empty glass toward Kimberly and tapped his earpiece. “I swear I’m going to kill that guy. He calls me ten times a day with questions — and then never shuts up. Brutal. Life’s really fair. He knows nothing about hockey. He’s as dumb as a bag of hammers, and this idiot’s kid is going to make millions of dollars. Go figure. My kid can’t even skate.”
Devin adjusted his headphones.
Strohler shoved his glass closer to Kimberly who was pouring the boys juice. “Am I invisible? Some OJ?”
She pushed the carton to him. He grunted and poured it himself.
“What happened to Cash last night?” Strohler said to Rocket. “Why didn’t he come over?”
“Yeah, sorry. He said he had something … something to do with his parents, I think,” Rocket said.
That was a stupid thing to say. What if Strohler asked? Too late now.
“Doesn’t matter,” Strohler said. “I came up with a better plan, sheer genius. I invited the team over for a party tonight — the guys that make it, of course, with parents and billets. That’ll get Gold on my side, and he’s in tight with Cash’s parents. The boys will go swimming and hit the hot tub. I might even score another client or two while I’m at it.”
Kimberly put her coffee mug down. “Was I going to be told about this?”
“Relax. Had to make an executive decision. I need more time with Chris and Dawn. I’m so close, I can taste it. Seriously. This party will put me over the top.”
He pointed his fork at Devin. “Get me every piece of information on Jamie Gold you can find. I mean everything. I want to know when that idiot was toilet trained. I’m serious, Devin, and do it right this time.” He put his fork down. “I still can’t believe Gold made the NHL. I was three times the player he was — no wait, four times — and five times tougher. We even had a fight, I think, back in Junior A. I totally whipped his butt. The guy was useless. Ridiculous I didn’t get called up. Then that stupid suspension … I should’ve sued the league.”
“That was so many years ago,” Kimberly said.
“Not for me,” Strohler said. “I’ll show them who Carl Strohler is when I’m the biggest hockey agent on the planet. You wait. It starts with OHL players. Soon I’ll have a bunch of NHLers on my roster. Then I’ll expand to Europe and Russia. I predict Russian players are going to make a huge comeback in the NHL, and I’m going to cash in on it.”
As Strohler went on about the money he would make, a new worry popped into Rocket’s head. What if he got cut today? He couldn’t be here for the party. It would be a total humiliation. His appetite disappeared.
“Would you like more juice?” Kimberly asked Rocket and Devin.
They held out their glasses.
“I’ve taken care of everything for tonight,” Strohler was saying. “The caterer should be here to set up the food by five, and I told Gold to have the team come for seven. You just need to make sure the house is in order.”
“I’ll be at work until six today,” Kimberly said.
“I think you can close your clothing store a couple hours early,” Strohler said. “This is important.”
“So is my store. Since you quit working for my father, I’m the only one earning money.”
Strohler snorted. “I sign Cash, and the money you make from that store will be petty cash. Don’t you worry about that. This is my chance. They cheated me out of millions as a player, but they can’t stop me now. I’m on my way up, and no one’s stopping me.” He stuffed half a fried egg into his mouth.
“Can you do me a favour?” Strohler said to Kimberly, still chewing. “Buy some Diet Coke for the party. Apparently, that’s all Chris drinks, and he drinks it by the bucket. He’s like an addict. Get ten bottles.”
Strohler reached for the orange juice. “So tell me, Bryan, you got any feel for what Cash is thinking on the agent front?”
The daily question.
“I think he’s real close to making a decision,” Rocket said.
Not true, but he figured that would satisfy him.
“He must’ve said something more specific.”
“We usually talk hockey — strategy, the lines and plays …”
“Here’s what you got to do,” Strohler cut in. He didn’t say it like Rocket had a choice. “Tell Cash he’d be stupid not to sign with me. Tell him that I have all the contacts, that I understand tax law, contracts and marketing and that he’ll make tons of money with me. Build me up. Okay?”
“I’ll try.”
Strohler suddenly stood up. “We leave in seven minutes. Be ready.” He tapped his earpiece. “Strohler, talk to me,” he said, and he went to the hallway to take the call.
“So what’s on for today?” Kimberly asked Devin.
Devin glanced into the hallway. “I think we’re watching the tryout,” he said.
“Maybe tonight, at the party, you can show the boys some of
your games?” she said. “That might be fun.”
“I doubt it,” Devin said, looking down at the table. He seemed even less happy about the party than Rocket and Kimberly.
“The guys would love to play,” Rocket said, hoping to cheer Devin up. “They game all the time. They’ll be into it.”
Devin just shrugged.
Strohler popped his head in. “I want to get there a little early,” he said. “Devin, can you hurry for once in your life? You’re still in your pajamas. You going to a sleepover or a hockey rink? Come on.”
Suddenly, Devin’s head was bobbing up and down to a beat Rocket couldn’t hear.
Strohler threw his hands in the air. “That kid is deaf, I tell you. I’m going to throw those stupid headphones out. He never hears a word I say. Kimberly, can you get him ready?”
Devin got up and walked out.
Strohler slapped his Bluetooth receiver on. “Strohler, talk to me. Yeah. I’m looking at signing three potential first-rounders. Prepare the contracts like I told you, and we can change them if we need to …”
“Good luck today,” Kimberly said to Rocket.
“Thanks,” Rocket said, “and thanks for breakfast. That was great. I’ll just brush my teeth, and I’ll be ready.”
Rocket went to the stairs. He heard a sound to his right and looked down the hall. Devin was standing against the wall, his arms crossed. Rocket looked over his shoulder. Strohler had gone back into the kitchen.
Rocket headed over. He could understand why a guy like Devin might not want to hang out with a bunch of guys like Cash, Hoffer and Gruny.
“Hey, Devin. Don’t worry about the party,” Rocket said. “It won’t be a big deal. Like I said, most of the guys will game, or they’ll be all over the swimming pool.”
Devin just looked at him.
Rocket tried again. “Or, maybe you could hang at a friend’s house tonight? Clear out until the guys are gone?”
“Friends? Yeah, maybe. Doesn’t matter,” Devin muttered.
Rocket wasn’t making any headway, and he needed to get ready.