by David Skuy
“Ch-ch-ch-ch-ch,” he said, imitating a machine gun.
Charlie cocked his head to one side. “Why are you shooting at me? I’m innocent.”
“No. You’re a bad guy — and I’m the good guy.” He fired a few more rounds.
“Doesn’t matter. I have an invisible force field,” Charlie said. He pretended he could knock his hand against it.
“My bullets have go-through-invisibility-force-field powers,” Ethan said.
“But I also have an anti-go-through-bullets chest protector,” Charlie said.
“Yeah. I got super-duper mega pointy bullets that totally kick your chest thingy.”
“So what. I have an eyeball laser gun and I’m firing at you right now.”
Ethan shrugged that off. “Big deal. I got laser-stopping rubber powers and your laser bounces off me and goes back and kills you.”
Charlie threw his hands up. “This dude is tough.”
Ethan pointed his truck at Pudge. “You want some?”
“Now, now, sweetie. Be nice,” his mom said, flipping a page in her magazine.
“You can shoot, but it won’t matter since I have mega-bega-lega magnet hands and I can catch your bullets and throw them back,” Pudge said.
“Uh-uh,” Ethan said fiercely. “I got melting powers in my ears that make your hands drippy and the bullets go through them.”
“The kid is good,” Pudge said to Charlie. “We better combine our powers. Commence combo crushing action.”
They held out their fists and shook them. Ethan ducked behind the broken car.
A lady interrupted their game. “Mr. Joyce. Mr. Moretti. I’m Sarah Martins.”
They lowered their fists. Charlie wanted to die.
“Hi … sorry … hi. I’m Charlie and this is Pudge.”
“Please come to my office.”
“I won,” Ethan declared as they got up to follow her.
Charlie laughed in spite of himself. “You did. Awesome job.” He held out a fist and Ethan gave it a punch. Pudge did the same.
“I like that kid. Shows a competitive spirit,” Charlie said to Pudge.
“There’s no quit in the E-Man,” Pudge said.
Sarah held the door open. “Have a seat in here,” she said, “and tell me how I can help. I assume this is a school fundraiser.”
“Not exactly,” Charlie said. “We’re here about the Rainbow Café. My mom is Donna Joyce. She owns it.”
“Does your mother know you’re here?” Her voice had a slightly suspicious tone.
“Not exactly. But she wouldn’t mind.” Charlie figured he should get right to it. “Did you hear about the fire at the café, by any chance?”
“I was made aware of it.”
“Right now the insurance company won’t cover the damages. It’s a legal thing, and my mom’s seeing a lawyer.”
“I am not quite sure why we’re discussing your mother’s business,” she said, with a decided edge.
“I know there’s a payment due to the bank soon, to this bank. It will be tough for my mom with the café closed.”
“I cannot discuss matters relating to an account without the client present. What is it you’re asking?”
“She needs an extension,” Charlie said bluntly.
“Look. As I said, I cannot discuss this matter with anyone but your mother,” she said. “I understand your concern, but this is between your mother and the bank.”
“We have a plan to fix the café,” Pudge said.
“Are you her son, too?” she asked.
“No. A friend. We only need a little more time, and the café will be up and running and you’ll get your money.”
She looked at her computer, tapping away. Charlie had a feeling she was reading her emails.
“Boys, I don’t want to sound rude, and I wish you luck in fixing the café, but it really isn’t the bank’s concern. So if that’s it, I really have to get back to work,” she said.
“But we’ve organized a crew,” Charlie said. “And we have a way to get materials for cheap, practically for free.”
She looked up from the screen. “Good luck with the project. But …” She pointed to the door. “I really am very busy.”
Pudge got up. Charlie remained rooted in the chair. She wasn’t listening.
“We have to fix the café. Otherwise my mom has to leave Terrence Falls for another job, and we just got here, and … and … is it really such a big deal to give her another few weeks to pay? The bank has lots of money.”
Her eyes softened for a moment — but only for a moment. “I’m sorry to hear that. Hopefully things will work out.”
She picked up the phone and began punching in a number.
Charlie stared at her. Pudge shook his shoulder. “Let’s go. We got stuff to do. C’mon,” Pudge said very quietly.
“Terry, I got your email and I wanted to follow up …” she said into the phone.
Charlie pushed back on the chair and the legs made a scratching sound. She gave him a look. Charlie ignored her and walked out. He had been holding his breath without even knowing it, and he had to take a couple of deep breaths.
“That was pleasant,” Pudge said, closing the door behind him.
“I wonder if she’d melt if we threw water on her,” Charlie said.
Ethan was looking out the window of an adjacent office. He fired his truck at them as they walked by. As angry as he was feeling, Charlie could not help but laugh, and he fired back with his fingers. Pudge pretended to lob a grenade. Once outside, they dropped their boards and pushed off. They did not speak for several minutes.
“Okay. So the bank’s not on side,” Charlie said. “What would Ethan do? Would he quit? Would he give up?”
“No chance,” Pudge said. “That dude ain’t never quit nothing in his life. He’d just use his anti-quit injection formula.”
“That’s what we need — a good dose of Ethan’s formula.”
Pudge pretended to inject him with a needle.
“So what if we don’t have an extension? We don’t need one. If we get the Rainbow up and running in two or three weeks, that should give my mom a fighting chance to pay the bank — don’t you think?”
“Ethan’s my new hero,” Pudge said.
“What does surrender even mean?” Charlie said.
“Never heard of it.”
“It’s not even an English word.”
They turned the corner.
“We have our work cut out for us, though,” Charlie said.
“I got my ‘Get the Work Done’ energizer spray,” Pudge said, and he mimed spraying himself.
“Give me a squirt.”
Pudge sprayed him.
“Sergeant, let’s go to the Rainbow and assess things,” Charlie said, pushing off a few times to gain speed.
“I’m with you, Major.”
Charlie knew he was, along with the other guys, and for all their joking around, Charlie knew Ethan had the right attitude. Charlie had let his mom down — and Danny — and his friends. He’d let them all down.
Okay. Charlie Joyce had messed up. Big time.
But Charlie Joyce was going to make it right.
15
STRONG START
A roar went up from the crowd.
“Sounds like they’re finally playing again,” Pudge said.
“I’ll check it out,” Charlie said.
A section of the glass had come loose, and the staff had taken forever to put it back in place. He felt like he had been waiting for hours, and there was still ten minutes left in the third period. Nick and Scott were standing at the corner watching the game. Charlie joined them.
“Does Char-Char need his skates tightened?” Scott said.
Nick put his hands on his hips. “Did someone forget to go pee-pees again?”
“I can’t sit anymore. Besides, I’m too stoked about the café,” Charlie said. “Are you guys still okay to help after the game?”
“Should I answer this time o
r you?” Scott said.
“I’ll take it. You answered the last fourteen times,” Nick said.
“You’re right. I’m being totally lame,” Charlie said. “It’s torture enough to wait to play; it’s worse to wait until it’s over so we can start working. I’ve gotta make this right for mom …”
“Remind me how many times he’s mentioned that,” Scott said.
“That’ll be eighteen since we got here,” Nick said.
“I’ll shut up now,” Charlie said.
A forward in a red sweater took the outlet pass from his defenceman and chipped it off the wall and out into the neutral zone.
“Good. I would like the opportunity to express myself without being interrupted,” Scott said. “Now tell me, Nicholas,”
“Yes, Scott.”
“Can you show up after the game to fix the Rainbow Café?”
“Finally, someone asking me an intelligent question. What do you think, Charles?”
“I think I’ll watch the game five to ten metres away from you guys,” Charlie said.
“Why are you avoiding the question?” Scott said. “What are you hiding, Joyce? What’s your game? We’re onto you.”
“Scott, I won’t be insulted like this. What do you say to a hot chocolate and a hot dog that has been sitting on the warmer for over three years?” Nick said.
“I say that’s the most brilliant idea you’ve ever had; actually, it’s the only idea you’ve ever had. Lead on, Sir Nick.”
The two jokesters headed to the stands. Charlie chuckled to himself and rested his elbows on the railings of the boards. The boys looked to be in minor peewee, and they were pretty good. Hard to imagine he was that small only three years ago. Neither team could sustain much pressure. A defenceman on the black team was free-wheeling in his end looking for an opening. He faked a pass across ice to his defence partner and hit his hard-charging centre up the middle, who in turn shovelled it on ahead to his left winger. A sweet move to the outside and he gained the blue line and banked it off the wall deep into the red team’s territory.
Charlie pounded the glass to show his appreciation. That was an impressive display of skill. The Rebels could learn a thing or two from these little dudes. They certainly never quit skating — lots of Rule Two. His thoughts turned to the rebuilding plan. Sometimes it seemed a crazy idea — and other times totally doable. His buds and he had pulled off lots of things people thought were whacked. Maybe this would be another. That cheered him up. He turned to go back to the dressing room.
His good mood vanished. A bunch of guys were milling outside a dressing room. A few were passing a tennis ball between them with their sticks. A couple were half dressed in their shin pads and hockey pants. He recognized them instantly in their distinctive black uniforms. They were playing after the Rebels.
“Has Chuckles learned not to take cheap shots when someone isn’t looking?” Jake said.
Charlie reminded himself of his new rule. He was not going to lose his cool. “I’m not sure,” he said. “Maybe.”
“Wow. Listen to smarty pants,” Thomas said.
“Chuckles has become a comedian,” Jake said. “Didn’t you hear that he was a funny guy?”
“I did not know that, Mr. Wilkenson,” Liam said. “Tell us more.”
The other Wildcats stopped passing the ball and crowded around to listen in.
“It’s not much of a story. A stupid boy and a smelly girl get together and live happily ever after,” Jake said. “It’s a beautiful love story if you can stand the stench.”
Charlie gritted his teeth.
No fighting. No fighting. No fighting.
“Be nice. Chuckles cries easy,” Liam said.
“See ya, boys,” Charlie said, and he walked to the Rebels’ dressing room.
* * *
Charlie’s nerves kicked in the second he entered the room, which was weird since he had felt fine until then. After a minute of sitting quietly getting dressed, he realized it wasn’t just him — everyone was tense and feeling awkward. They were lacking in confidence after the drubbing by the Snow Birds. And after his pathetic game, he was in no position to give a pep talk. All he could do was play great and prove to them he was someone the Rebels could count on. His game had to do the talking, not his mouth.
“How much time is left?” Pudge asked him.
“Would you believe I forgot to look?”
“I’d be more surprised if you knew.”
On cue, as always, Dalton came in with the information. “There are five minutes left in the game. Coach will come in to talk to you guys. In fact, he’s coming down the hall right now.” Dalton opened the door, and Hilton walked in.
“Thanks, Dalton,” he said.
“Did you see the list of materials Dalton put together for the café?” Charlie said quietly to Pudge. “That dude is organized.”
“What about the timetable?” Pudge whispered.
“He is awesome,” Charlie whispered back. “We’ll fix the café in no time.”
“The Tigers have won two games in a row,” Hilton said. “I saw some of their second win. They love to chip and chase. Their defencemen especially love long passes from the hash marks to wingers hovering near the red line, so watch for that. This is a good forechecking team. That means our forwards have to get back in good time to set up and give the D a solid target, and I want puck possession over wild passes. If you have to dump it out to relieve the pressure, that’s fine. But I’d rather see controlled passes to linemates moving to open spaces. Quick feet will kill them. We break down their forecheck and get the puck out of our zone with pace, we can use our speed to win this game.”
“Hard on every puck,” Spencer said. “Last game we lost the battles behind both nets. That can’t happen again.”
“We can’t get down on each other,” Brandon said. “Let’s keep the intensity level high — all game.”
“And no dumb penalties,” Will said.
“Quick shifts, too,” Nazem said. “We can’t get tired out there. Up and down and off.”
Charlie sensed that some of the other guys — and he hated to say it but it was the old Rebels — were waiting for him to jump in. He was their captain, and he was usually the guy that ended a pep talk. Something inside him held him back, however.
“Give me Spencer and Philip on D to start,” Hilton said.
The two defencemen punched gloves.
“And I want Charlie out there with Pudge and Dylan.”
The room went quiet. Charlie noticed Brandon and Nazem looking at each other. Charlie kept his eyes fixed on the door; and for the first time since the playoffs last season he forgot his ritual with Pudge to be the last ones out the door. As soon as Dalton told them the Zamboni was off he leapt up and practically ran out on the ice. On his second lap Pudge came up beside him.
“You looked like you were being chased by a swarm of bees,” Pudge said.
“Sorry,” Charlie said. He felt bad now about breaking their tradition. “I’m too stoked for this baby. I took off before I knew what I was doing. Hope it won’t be bad luck.”
Pudge tapped his shin pads. “I’m guessing a super-stoked Charlie Joyce is just what this team needs.” With that he skated away.
Charlie kept to himself the entire warm-up, and he did not even bother taking a shot. He just wanted the game to start. As soon as the clock ticked down to ten minutes, which signified the start of the game, he raced to the red line for the faceoff. The referee was laughing when he came over.
“At least someone is ready,” he said. “I guess you’re tired of waiting in the dressing room.”
All Charlie could do was nod. He did not want to get distracted. With a reverse grip he bent his knees slightly and leaned forward, carefully to distribute his weight evenly across his blades. Hilton had warned him about being too eager and getting up on his toes, which put him off balance and also made it harder to move laterally. The whistle blew and the referee held the puck up over his head, t
urning first to Andrew and then to the Tigers goalie. The Tigers centre put his stick down. The referee held the puck over the dot.
Their sticks clashed, only Charlie was a fraction faster and the puck went spinning back to Spencer. He sent the puck to Philip. Charlie recognized the play from their practice — the neutral zone counterattack. Charlie faked right and curled hard to his left. Philip took two strides forward and saucered the puck onto his backhand. He took it without missing a step and bore down on the defence. Pudge was gunning it hard down the wall, Dylan on the opposite side. The right defenceman looked undecided. Charlie figured he was the guy to exploit. He waited until Pudge was half a step from the blue line and rifled a sharp pass, careful not to lead him too much.
Pudge blew past the surprised defender and carved toward the net, the goalie coming out to challenge. The left defenceman came across, his stick held low to the ice to prevent a pass across the slot to Dylan. Pudge held onto the puck a moment longer and then fed Charlie in the high slot. Charlie one-timed it to Dylan. The defenceman threw himself on the ice to block his path to the net. All he did was take himself out of the play. Dylan flicked the puck over his legs to Charlie. He considered passing to Pudge, when the goalie dropped to the ice. The top of the net was totally exposed. He took a final step and fired a wrister to the blocker side. Pudge threw up his arms. Dylan wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Barely ten seconds into the game and they had scored.
“Not a bad start,” Dylan said.
“Let’s focus on the finish,” Charlie said.
Pudge gave them each a fist punch. “On to the next goal, dudes. This is nothing.”
Charlie liked their attitude. All business. Put the quick goal behind them and work hard, that was the way. Spencer and Philip came over.
“That almost looked like the play Hilton drew at practice,” Spencer said, giving Charlie’s pads a tap.
“Good puck movement,” Charlie said. “Total respect for Rule Four.” He gave each defenceman a cuff on the helmet.
They took their places for the faceoff. Charlie won the draw again, this time back to Philip. The Tigers centre pressed forward. Charlie curled into the open seam, and Philip again saucered a neat pass as he broke free. This time Charlie sent it to Dylan as he cut across the middle, and the right winger took it over the blue line on a slant, both defencemen backpedalling frantically. Pudge had followed him in, and Dylan sent a gentle pass between the right defender’s outstretched stick and his right foot. Pudge took it on his forehand, and, grinding his left skate into the ice, made the corner and kept going hard to the net.