by David Skuy
Liam stood in the slot. “Easy draw, Jaker. No competition.”
That was tame stuff. Charlie ignored him and set up at the dot.
Liam was not done, however. “Hey, pastry boy. Why don’t you run along and get me a croissant,” he cracked.
Charlie slid his hand down the shaft of his stick. He would win the faceoff to shut Liam up.
“As a friend, I really think you should discuss the art of showering with that young lady we were talking about,” Liam said under his breath. “If you don’t want the problem to get worse.”
Charlie kept his eyes trained on the dot. Just when he thought they were going to play hockey.
“At least tell her to shower after a hockey game,” Liam added.
Charlie gripped his stick tighter.
“At least explain soap,” Roscoe piped in.
Jake adopted a reverse grip and joined Charlie at the faceoff circle. He leaned his head in so their helmets were almost touching.
“At least tell her to change her underwear once a month,” he whispered.
The referee blew his whistle and skated over to them with the puck in his hand.
It wasn’t going to stop. Charlie knew them too well. It was going to become a thing — first text messages, then Facebook, and soon it would get back to her. A rush of overwhelming anger swept through him. The puck dropped. Charlie ignored it. Instead he lowered his shoulder and crushed Jake with a check, extending his arms into his chest to finish him off. Jake flew back, knocked clear off his feet, and landed on his back, his helmet banging off the ice. A roar sounded from the stands.
Roscoe dropped his stick. “No way, loser,” he yelled, swinging at him.
Charlie ducked away, took a step back, and exploded at the hulking left winger. A solid right hook caught Roscoe on the side of his mask, causing him to drop his hands, and that let Charlie sneak a left hook to his chin. Roscoe’s mask slipped halfway up his face. Before Charlie could deliver another blow, two arms wrapped themselves around his chest and twisted him away.
“That’s enough of that,” a deep voice ordered. The referee dragged him to the back wall. “You ready to calm down?”
Charlie’s heart kept pounding away even though he was not winded in the least.
Pudge came over. “You got him, Charlie. Let him brag about that.”
Jonathon drifted over too. “What was that about?”
“Back to the bench,” the referee barked at them. “You’re in the dressing room, number eight,” he said, tugging on Charlie’s jersey sleeve and leading him to the door.
“I got your number eight for a game misconduct for a blow to the head, and a four-minute penalty for roughing,” Charlie heard the other referee tell Hilton.
“What about their guy?” Hilton said. “He threw a punch.”
“I kicked him out too,” the referee said.
Hilton grunted and turned away. Scott and Nick were in the stands clapping. The Wildcats’ supporters drowned them out, however, and Charlie left the ice to the sound of catcalls and jeers. Dalton met him at the dressing room to unlock the door.
“Give me a moment to fit this key … yes … there we have it.” Charlie walked in and flopped down on the bench. “The referee instructed me to tell you that with a game misconduct you are not allowed to join the team on the bench. Fortunately, he did not call a fighting penalty on you, which carries an automatic three-game suspension. At least now we know how the new head shot penalty works …” He paused. “That was my attempt to inject a bit of levity.”
Charlie stared at him.
“It was a joke.”
“Sorry. I’m … uh … I’m a little … Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”
Dalton rubbed his hands and then clasped them together. “I’m sure this must be quite distressing. While I’m not a player myself, I imagine emotions can get the better of you in the heat of the moment.” He cleared his throat. “If you don’t mind me asking, what was it that motivated your … actions? Some of the guys were wondering.”
He could only hope that meant the other guys on the ice had not heard, or at least had not understood, what was being said. If that was the case, he intended to keep it that way.
“It was Jake being Jake,” Charlie said wearily. “I lost it. No excuse. Could you tell them, and Hilton, that I’m sorry.”
Dalton leaned back into the door. “I will pass your message along, Charlie. I should get back to the bench.”
“Go get ’em.”
A roar sounded. Dalton poked his head out. “The Wildcats have taken advantage of the power play to even the score. It would appear that number nine has scored.”
“Of course Jake would score,” Charlie muttered.
“Pardon?” Dalton said.
Charlie gave Dalton a thumbs-up. As the door closed, he slowly untied his skates. The Rebels were down to one centre. He had just levelled Jake and pounded Roscoe — you’d think that would cheer him up. It didn’t. He felt guilty. He had let the team down. But how could he allow Jake and Liam get away with talking such trash about Julia?
He took his time, and had only begun to undo the tape on his shin pads when the crowd let out another roar. He shuffled over to the door to look out.
He slammed it shut again. Liam and Roscoe were congratulating Jake on his second goal. It was 2–1, and there was nothing he could do about it. By the time he was dressed and had joined Scott and Nick in the stands, there were two minutes gone in the third, and the score was 4–1.
“Did you have to test out the new rule so quickly?” Scott said.
“It’s not his fault,” Nick said. “He just forgot this isn’t the U.F.C.”
“I forgot to use my brain, that’s what,” Charlie said.
Scott patted Charlie’s back. “I do that all the time,” he said.
“What went down?” Nick said in a serious tone.
He should have thought something up in the dressing room. “Liam was chirping as usual, and then Jake got into it. I … I shouldn’t have done it … They were just too annoying for words.” He pressed a foot against the top of the seat in front of him.
The lady sitting there moved over.
“What did they say?” Scott said.
Charlie gritted his teeth. “It’s a long story. They came to the café before the game, and … they talked junk about … my mom. Can’t remember exactly how it started, but … I just lost it.” He kicked the seat in front of him. The lady turned around.
“Sorry,” he said, turning crimson. “My foot slipped.”
She frowned and turned back to watch the game.
“I’d do the same if they were chirping about my family,” Scott said.
“I’d rather be on the ice right now, to be honest,” Charlie said.
“He’ll think twice before opening his big mouth again,” Scott said.
“Look at that!” Charlie said. He kicked the back of the chair again. “Sorry. I’m sorry,” he said to the lady. He got another angry look.
Liam had deflected a shot from the point past Andrew for another goal.
“I don’t blame you, Charlie,” Nick said. “You can’t let them say stuff like that. You had to step up. But maybe the timing wasn’t the best.”
The rest of the game was a disaster, and pure torture for Charlie. The Wildcats knew the Rebels were undermanned, and they played a dump-and-chase game, grinding the defence down and controlling the puck for long stretches in the Rebels’ zone. Halfway through the third the score was 6–2. Charlie, Nick and Scott watched glumly as the goals kept coming. The final tally was 9–2: a blowout.
“We should go cheer up the troops,” Scott said. “I think I’ll start with a few standard clichés like ‘We got that one out of our system,’ then move to, ‘One game at a time,’ and finish up with, ‘We didn’t play our game.’ You got anything, Nicky?”
Nick made a sour face. “How about ‘We suck,’” he said.
“How about I do the talking,” Scott said, and the three boys headed to th
e dressing room.
4
ALARM
Hilton was standing in the corridor with Jeffrey.
“Go on in, Scott and Nick,” Hilton said. “The boys could use a lift after that. This is one time when I don’t want you to be serious.”
“Darn it, Coach. I used up my last joke two minutes ago,” Scott said.
“Do your best, then. I need to speak to Charlie for a moment.”
Scott opened the door. “Gentlemen, on a positive note, you can’t play worse than that,” he began. The door closed.
“I’m sorry, Coach,” Charlie said. “That was plain dumb. I’m gonna apologize to the team. I don’t know why I let Jake and Liam get to me. Plain stupid. I cost us the game.”
Hilton flicked his pen a few times. “Charlie, I’m not so concerned about the game as I am about you. Forgetful and late I can accept, but unfocused and undisciplined, that’s not the Charlie Joyce I know.” Charlie crossed his arms and lowered his chin to his chest. “Is there something bothering you that I can help with?” he asked.
He couldn’t tell him. “I’m sorry for letting you and the team down,” he said.
Hilton nodded toward the dressing room. “Head on in, then.”
The boys stopped talking.
“I messed up, guys. I need to apologize — big time,” Charlie began. “Jake and Liam said some ignorant stuff and I lost it, and … I just blew it. They’re not worth listening to, and I cost us the game. It was a stupid thing to do.”
After a few moments Scott cleared his throat. “Tell us again how stupid you are.”
Charlie let himself laugh a little. “Very, very.”
“So … more than me.”
“That might be pushing it,” Nick said.
“Scott and Nick told us what they said,” Spencer began. “I guess I understand. But dude, you can’t be taking yourself out of a game and leaving us shorthanded like that. Guys diss each other all the time. It’s part of the game. You gotta learn to roll with it — or give it back to them by putting the puck in the net.”
“Nazem was trash-talking with that number fourteen all game,” Brandon said. “Spence is right. You can’t take it serious, or else they’ll never stop.”
“That guy never shuts up,” Nazem said. “Not a bad player, though.”
Number fourteen was Liam. If they only knew what he was really like. “I get it. Like I said, I lost it,” Charlie said.
“We hear ya,” Spencer said. “But you can’t just lose it anymore. Okay? You gotta think on this. It really did hurt us out there.”
“The dude was on about his mom,” Zachary said, in Charlie’s defence.
“Yeah. I say stuff on the ice too, and I’ve been dissed way worse,” Spencer said.
“I’ve played the game before,” Charlie said. “I get it.”
“What’s gonna happen next time we play the Wildcats and they diss your mom?” Spencer said.
“Nothing. Because I’ll be there to put Jake through the boards,” Scott said.
“Not if I get to him first,” Nick said.
“So you guys will save us again,” Brandon said.
“We won’t take garbage from the Wildcats, if that’s your question,” Scott said.
“Great. And we’ll have a brawl and we’ll lose the game,” Brandon said.
“Don’t take Rule Five so seriously. We’ll handle it,” Nick said.
“Thanks for that,” Spencer said.
“It’s on me, guys,” Charlie said. The last thing he wanted was for this to make the tension worse between the old and new Rebels. Besides, they were probably only bummed about the game. “Bad game, that’s all. It’s over. Out of our system. There are no problems with Rule Five, or any rule. It won’t happen again. If it does, you can call me on it. But it won’t. Okay?”
Brandon shrugged and muttered, “Okay.”
Spencer rolled some sock tape between his palms and fired the ball into the garbage can. “That’s good enough for me. But look, we joined this team because it won the championship last year, and now we’re in fourth and we’ve lost three in a row. I didn’t sign up for this.”
“Don’t stay on my account,” Scott said.
“Get on the ice already,” Spencer shot back.
“Let’s be cool, dudes,” Zachary said. “Charlie’s right. Nothing sucks worse than a loss to the Wildcats. Keep it together. We’re a team.”
“All teams have a rough patch. We had one last year too,” Charlie said. “We’ll get over it. We had them tonight for half the game. We put three periods together and it’s ours. No problem. We put this behind us and move on.”
No one answered. They began to undress quickly. Scott caught Charlie’s eye. The usually jovial defenceman looked decidedly unhappy. Charlie made the telephone sign with his thumb and little finger. Scott nodded and he left with Nick and Zachary. Brandon and Spencer were speaking quietly to each other, with Nazem leaning over to listen.
Charlie sat next to Pudge. “Tough one, huh?” Charlie said.
“Losing was the easy part. Listening to Jake and Liam mouthing off was ten times harder.”
“I didn’t help.”
Pudge lowered his voice. “What did Jake actually say?”
Charlie slapped Pudge’s thigh pad with his hand. “Ancient history. I can’t remember.” He laughed as if nothing was bothering him. “You think listening to Jake’s bragging is hard. It’s way harder watching from the stands. That was brutal. Anyway, hurry up and get dressed. It’s weird how much more a dressing room stinks when you’re not wearing equipment.”
Pudge didn’t laugh. He bent at the waist and began to unwrap the tape from his socks.
* * *
Charlie’s mom turned the radio off. “Do you boys mind? I have a bit of a headache. It’s been a long day.”
“Sorry, Mom,” Charlie said.
He had only just turned it up. She smiled at him, but her eyes did not have their usual life. She seemed real worn out.
“I have to be up early tomorrow,” she said, “so I’ll need you to watch Danielle until I get back. You can expect a visit from Hannah too, and, I should warn you the girls are planning an awesome beauty parlour — that’s a direct quote from your sister.”
“Mom! Last time they tried to give me a manicure.”
Pudge burst out laughing.
“I believe chocolate-chip muffins will also be involved, so your efforts won’t go unrewarded,” she said.
She slowed and turned toward the café. Charlie planned his next move. He had to whip inside and clean up fast enough his mom would not become suspicious — and also remember his knapsack! He had been messing up too much lately. He did not need his mom to find out he had not closed up properly, and she did not need that either!
“Are you okay with this, Pudge?” his mom said. “Do you want me to drop you off first?”
“Don’t worry about me,” Pudge said. “I’m in no rush. The Rainbow’s not far anyway.”
She turned again, but a police car with its lights flashing blocked the street. His mom rolled down her window.
“Excuse me, officer. My café is about a block and a half away,” she said.
“Sorry, ma’am. You’ll have to go around,” the policeman said.
Charlie looked farther ahead. There were a bunch of police cars and a fire truck.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“I’m not entirely sure,” he said. “There was a little fire. Nothing too serious. Don’t know much more. I was just told to close off the street.”
“Okay. Thanks. Then things will be fine by tomorrow morning?”
He laughed. “I’m sure they will.”
She laughed also. “It’s tough to sell bread when your customers can’t come to the store.”
The policeman looked more closely. “I’m sorry. I didn’t recognize you at first. You’re Donna, right? I’ve dropped in a few times at your place. Love the Rainbow Café. Good coffee.”
“Thanks. Come by anytime and I’ll fix you up a nice latte.” She rolled the window up. “Sorry, Charlie. You’ll have to get it tomorrow.’
This was a nightmare. His mind raced for a solution. “Pull over here. I’ll just run over. Give me the key. I’ll be back in a sec. Seriously. I need that knapsack.”
“Oh, Charlie.”
“Please? I swear — two minutes and I’m back.”
She bit her lower lip, and then pulled the car over. “Hurry up.”
“You wanna come for a run?” he asked Pudge. He guessed his friend would not want to hang alone with his mom.
Pudge followed him out and they set off at a light jog. “So what’s going on?” Pudge said.
“I really did leave my knapsack,” he said.
“And …?”
“And … maybe I left a mess when I made myself a grilled cheese sandwich — left it on the counter — and forgot the time and Mom pulled up outside the café and I had to run out and …”
Pudge held up his hand. “Sorry, dude. I only speak English. I’ll make the usual assumption that there’s a disaster waiting and you need me to fix things.”
“Why else would I bring you along?” Charlie grinned.
The smile slowly disappeared from his face. There was a second fire truck parked behind the first, and although it was dark, he could see a faint trail of smoke rising from a building. He ran a little faster.
A fireman held up his hand. “Hold on, boys. You can watch from here.”
“What happened?” Charlie said.
“There was a fire, probably a grease fire. We have it under control.”
“Was it the Rainbow Café?” Charlie said.
The fireman turned. “I think that’s what the sign says. Yeah. I wasn’t first on the scene. The water’s been turned off for a while, so I imagine it was more smoke damage than anything.”
“Damage! Was anything ruined?” Charlie said. His voice sounded shaky.
“Not sure. Anyway. You have to stay back.”
“But that’s my mom’s café,” he said. “I gotta get in there.”
The fireman’s expression became serious. “Do you have a phone to call your mom? She should come over; the captain will want to speak to her.”
“She’s waiting for us at the end of the street,” Pudge said. “We can run back and get her.”