Double Shift

by David Skuy

  “If you’re not using it … sure. But tell me if you get cold,” Charlie said.

  The extra sweatshirt helped, although Charlie could not help but envy his friends in their hats. The three boys rode on the sidewalk. Dalton rode his bike on the street alongside them. In less than ten minutes they arrived at the first house. Through the bay window, Charlie saw a couple of people moving around inside.

  “This is crazy, isn’t it?” Charlie said to Pudge

  “Totally,” Pudge said.

  Charlie steeled his nerve and knocked on the front door. An older man holding a measuring tape in his hand and a roll of papers under his arm answered it. His eyes narrowed. “Owners aren’t here. Not interested in what you’re selling.” He began to close the door.

  “We’re not selling anything,” Charlie said.

  Keeping the door open halfway, the man asked, “What d’ya want, then? We’re busy.”

  “Sorry to bother you. I realize you’re busy and all. But we’re … my friends and me are fixing up my mom’s café. It got damaged in a fire, and we’re trying to find used materials to fix it up and reopen.”

  The man opened the door wider. “What exactly do you want?”

  Dalton handed Charlie a paper, and he began to read the list. “We need ten sheets of drywall, drywall nails, mud — not sure why we need that?”

  “It’s for the drywall,” the man said, “to cover up the seams between two pieces.”

  “Right. Thanks. And we need two-by-fours and two-by-eights, which are …?”

  “That’s lumber — I think for your drywall.” He opened the door completely.

  “Yes. Thanks again. I’ve got a lot to learn, I guess. Construction is complicated, more than I thought.”

  He laughed. “It can be.”

  “And we need insulation, a couple of lights that hang from the ceiling — and paint and tiles if you have any.”

  The man ran his hand through his hair. “I heard about that café, I think. It was in the papers. Nice lady ran it.”

  “That’s my mom.”

  “You can get exactly what you need at any building supply store.”

  “We don’t really have the money for new materials,” Charlie said. “So we’re salvaging.”

  The man looked uncertain.

  “It’s a new environmental movement which seeks to recycle materials that would otherwise be thrown out,” Dalton explained. “It serves the dual purpose of meeting our financial constraints, and also helping the environment by diverting materials from landfill.”

  The man stared at Dalton for a second. “Okay. Never heard of that. Used materials, if they have been cut or have nails in them, will be hard to use … sounds odd to me. But let me think. Too bad you didn’t come last week. We filled eight bins at least. Hmm. Wait a sec.” The door closed.

  “A week?” Charlie lamented. “Our luck sucks.”

  “Maybe,” Pudge said. “He might have some stuff. He came around there at the end.”

  The man returned shortly. “You have a vehicle?”

  “My dad can come this afternoon with his truck,” Matt said.

  “Good. I spoke to the owners. I have some old drywall for you. I also have some good pieces of drywall, big ones, that you can have. You’ll just have to spend more time on the mud.”

  Charlie’s expression must have asked the question because he got an answer without having to say anything. “It’s easiest to use new pieces of drywall because they’re standard sizes. I’m giving you pieces that have been cut, usually because I needed a narrower or shorter piece. You can still use them — but I can’t be bothered taking them to another job. I’d throw them out. Now that I think of it, I can give you some mud and drywall nails — and you’ll need a couple of rolls of tape, which I can donate.”

  “Tape for what?” Charlie said.

  “Are you doing the work?”

  “We are,” Charlie said.

  “Hmm. Well, the tape is for the drywall. First you tape the seams, and then you put the mud over the tape to cover it up.”

  “So that’s how it works,” Charlie enthused. “Awesome. Thanks.”

  “Happy to help. Your truck should come before five o’clock. I’ll be gone by then.”

  They said thanks and goodbye, and headed to the second site in very good spirits.

  “We should have the materials nailed by today, and we can start the repairs tomorrow morning,” Charlie said gleefully over his shoulder to his friends trailing behind.

  “Make a right up here,” Pudge yelled.

  Charlie carved hard, leaning to his right, and for a moment thought he might eat some pavement. But he pulled it off, and turned around to boast to his buds. “See how I pretended to almost fall.”

  “You gotta stay alive or there’s no point to all this,” Pudge said.

  “There’s some logic to that,” Charlie said.

  They arrived in no time. This house was much bigger, which in Charlie’s mind meant more materials. He headed straight for the front door and knocked loudly. Again, a man opened the door; he too carried a tape measure and clutched some rolled-up papers. Must be a construction thing, Charlie figured.

  “Hi. My name’s Charlie Joyce. Me and my buds here are looking for materials to fix up the Rainbow Café. It got damaged in a fire and we’re trying to repair it. We were hoping you could help out with some lumber, insulation or any building materials you don’t need or will be throwing out. We have a truck that can …”

  “We got nothing,” the man said. He shut the door.

  The four boys stared at it.

  “That went well,” Matt said.

  “Definitely not a former customer,” Pudge said.

  “Maybe I spoke too fast,” Charlie said. “Should I ask again and explain it better?”

  “I suggest we proceed to the third site,” Dalton said. “My sense is he would be less than receptive to us asking again.”

  Charlie turned away. “I think you’re probably right,” he said.

  A less confident group continued onto the third site; and they left it feeling downright nervous. Charlie had barely introduced himself before the door closed in his face. Charlie continued to joke around with his friends as they headed to the final site, trying to block out what was obvious to everyone. This was the last good lead, and after that …?

  No materials.

  That meant no Rainbow Café.

  It was that simple.

  18

  UNBURIED TREASURE

  They arrived at the car dealership in a pack. A few trucks were parked in front, along with a front-end loader and a small bulldozer. At the far end of the parking lot stood stacks of paving stones and, next to them, white bags on a skid wrapped tightly in plastic and rolls of thick black paper. The building itself seemed deserted.

  “They might have left early,” Matt said.

  “All we have is some drywall,” Charlie worried. “We’ll never get this done.” He peered through a large window, one of many that stretched across the entire front of the showroom. It was dark inside and hard to see. “I think we got ourselves a dead end, boys,” he said.

  “Gosh darn it,” Dalton said.

  The rest of them exchanged glances, then burst out laughing.

  “Sorry for the strong language,” Dalton said sincerely.

  “No worries,” Matt said. “It is … um … a bit of a negative development.”

  “I concur.”

  “Hold on, fellow scavengers,” Pudge said, his face pressed up against the window. “I see signs of life.”

  They all looked back in.

  “Definitely humanoid. We should investigate,” Matt said.

  “I’ve got an idea,” Charlie said. He went to the front doors and began to knock.

  “Brilliant,” Pudge said.

  A figure emerged from the darkness and came to the doors.

  Charlie grinned. “It worked.”

  “What’s up, boys?” the man said, stepping out.<
br />
  He seemed friendly enough. Charlie summoned his courage and told him what they wanted.

  “That’s a big undertaking; you don’t have a contractor?” he said, when Charlie had finished explaining the situation.

  “Matt is sort of the unofficial contractor,” Charlie said.

  “My dad’s a carpenter,” Matt said, “and I help him sometimes. Dad said he’d try to help us, but he’s tied up with another job right now.”

  “I guess we’re winging it,” Charlie said.

  “I can’t really give you any new stuff that we don’t use up. The owner is a bit of a fanatic about that and he makes sure that any extras are used for the next job. Let’s just say he doesn’t throw money around.”

  “What are you building?” Charlie said.

  “This is going to be a new Dunn’s Sportsmart. He already has one downtown, so I don’t know why he needs another one here, but the guy’s got tons of money and he must know what he’s doing. I could ask the owner, Tom Dunn, if you’d like. You never know. He might let you have something. What’s your name?”

  Charlie didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Tom Dunn was practically the last guy on earth that would help them. He had kicked Charlie off the Hawks last year, which turned out to be a favour, of course, because that’s why he and Pudge had started up the Rebels.

  “Thanks, but I don’t want to bother him,” Charlie said.

  “I’ve worked with freecyclers before on other projects — and with other owners — and I know you guys also can find useful stuff from materials that are going to be thrown out,” he said.

  “We would be more than happy to pick through your refuse if that is at all possible,” Dalton said.

  He laughed. “Come on in, boys.” As they followed him to the main showroom he flicked on the lights and held out his arm. “Help yourselves.”

  Charlie had never seen such a beautiful sight. And to think a few days ago he would have thought this was junk. Pieces of lumber were piled up at the far side of the room, all shapes and sizes, and next to that, light fixtures, and on the other side of the room, ceiling tiles; they might not match perfectly with those in the Rainbow but they were the same colour and close enough. This had to be everything they needed, and more.

  “It all has to be cleared out in three days. Take whatever you need. It’s garbage to me,” the man said.

  Charlie was too overwhelmed to speak. Until this moment, he’d been trying to ignore reality and convince himself they could get this done. Now he was beginning to believe it.

  “We’re going to need everyone for this,” Charlie said to Pudge.

  He had the phone to his ear. “Already on it … Yo, Scott. We hit the jackpot …”

  Charlie crossed his arms, and wandered around for a closer look. While everything they needed might be here, most of it was twisted and jumbled together. It would take time to pick out what was useable. He put his gloves on.

  “Thanks a million for this,” he said to the man. “I really appreciate it, more than I could ever say.”

  The man waved him off. “Like I said, it’s garbage. This stuff costs a fortune to throw in the landfill, and it spares me the trouble of loading it in a truck. Every piece of lumber you take saves me money, so go crazy, boys. Just be careful. There are nails sticking out everywhere and you don’t have steel-soled boots.” His phone rang. “Excuse me. I need to take this.” He walked away.

  Charlie went over to the lumber pile. He took hold of a piece and tugged. It held firm. He pulled a little harder, then harder still, and then put a foot on the pile for leverage and put all his weight behind it. It didn’t budge. They were wedged in tightly by the pieces on top. This was not going to be easy.

  “Are you ready to go hunting for treasure, matey?” Pudge said to him, pulling his gloves on.

  “I thought I was Major?”

  “The pirate theme seemed more fitting in this case.”

  “I’m ready, Redbeard,” Charlie said.

  They began to pull pieces of wood off the top of the pile.

  19

  TEAM EFFORT

  Charlie let out a groan as he leaned down to fish out his gloves from his hockey bag. His arms were beyond sore and he could barely open his hands. He and Pudge had gone nuts on that pile of wood. Scott, Nick and Zachary had caught a lift from Nick’s mom and had joined them, and together they had collected a ton of great stuff, although there was still more to do. Dalton figured they’d need another day. The man offered to drive the materials to the café if they loaded it into his truck, which was awesome because Matt’s dad had called to say he could pick up the drywall at the first house, but he was too busy tomorrow to help.

  The boys had been so into their work that they almost forgot about practice. If it had not been for Dalton they probably would have. It was fun though, hanging out together.

  “Don’t worry about us,” Scott had called out to them as they left. “Who cares about guys with broken arms and legs — we’re expendable!”

  Pudge called ahead to his dad to bring his equipment to the rink, and fortunately, Charlie had left his equipment at Pudge’s house after the last game. His dad was happy to get Matt’s stuff too. So with nothing else to worry about, and the three “expendables” working on the pile, they formed a long board–bike convoy and snaked their way to the arena. Charlie rolled his neck and stretched his legs to try to get rid of the tiredness in his body. For probably the first time in his life he really did not feel like playing hockey.

  He checked out his gloves. The tape holding the thumb together on his right glove was slipping off again, and the rip on the side of the other glove was getting worse. He hunted around his bag for tape. As he fixed his glove he looked around the room. Most of the guys were leaning against the wall staring into space. No one was talking.

  Dalton opened the door. “Zamboni’s off,” he said.

  Matt sidled up next to Charlie and Pudge. “I’ve been dying to play for weeks and it finally happens and all I want to do is take a nap,” he said.

  “It’ll be awesome to see ol’ number ten on the ice again,” Charlie said. “Once Zachary comes back we’ll have three lines.”

  “And all our problems will be solved,” Brandon said as he walked by them and reached for the dressing room door.

  “I just meant that …” Charlie began.

  “I’m joking, dude,” Brandon said. He was not smiling, however.

  Charlie had no idea how to take it. “Well, at least Matt can spell you and me at centre. I could use a shift off once in a while.”

  Brandon looked over at the three of them. “That makes some sense. I’ll give you that.” He paused and seemed on the verge of saying something, and then just as quickly seemed to change his mind and he left.

  Charlie followed his teammates onto the ice, deep in thought. Was that a breakthrough moment with Brandon, or was he being sarcastic? Had the great game against the Tigers united them, or had it merely papered over the divisions in the team? He knew there was still something missing, something that the entire team could rally around. As he dug his blades into the ice and picked up speed behind the net, he racked his brain to think of what that could be.

  Hilton blasted his whistle and called them over to centre.

  “I’ve noticed a few teams are playing a 1–3–1, which I have strong feelings about, as you know. It slows the game to a snail’s pace, it’s boring, and it’s against the spirit of the game. Still, we have to be prepared. It’s not all that different to a traditional trap. There are several ways to beat it. Here’s one, and the good thing is it fits with the Rebels philosophy.

  “As with the trap, the key to beating the 1–3–1 is puck movement, hard skating and good decision-making. The moment you see them set up three across the neutral zone and there’s no pressure on the puck, run this play. D1 carries the puck straight at the lone forechecker to force him to commit. Then he hits D2 who should be going full steam. At the same time, all three forward
s take off, the right winger going deep, the left winger cutting across ice and the centre to the area in front of the lone defender.

  “If each defender takes a forward, then D2 carries the puck over centre and dumps it in. Once he crosses our blue line you can expect the forwards to collapse, so you have to make that quick pass. First option is always to the winger on your side, in this case the right winger. The centre is option two, with the left winger being your option of last resort. Remember, short passes to players moving is what we want. You stand around and wait for the pass, the 1–3–1 will smother you before you get started.”

  He lowered the whiteboard. “Lots to take in at once. Why don’t we do something radical and try it; and with Matt back we have eight forwards, so we’ll go with three sets of wingers, and Charlie and Brandon alternating centres. Speaking of which, let’s hear it for Matt’s return.”

  Charlie noticed the new Rebels were a bit reserved — but they still joined in to cheer Matt.

  “Good to be back,” Matt said when the cheers died down. “Thanks.”

  “Give me Charlie with Jonathon and Pudge as the attacking line, with Spencer and Philip on D,” Hilton said. “Defending will be Brandon, Nazem and Will, with the twins playing back. Robert, I want you on the right side covering Pudge. Christopher, you’re the rover at the back. Brandon will be the forechecker. The rest of you file onto the bench and pay attention. Watching others mess up is a good way to learn.”

  Hilton blew his whistle and passed the puck to Philip. Brandon took his place at the blue line and held his stick out to cut off the inside lane. Philip went straight at him. Two metres away he cross-iced a pass to Spencer, but it was a bit ahead of him and he couldn’t control it. Charlie had cut in front of Christopher who was the lone defender at the far blue line. He should not have bothered. Robert had taken advantage of the bad pass and stripped Spencer of the puck. He flipped it to Brandon, who gave it back to Hilton.

  “Score one for the 1–3–1,” Hilton said. “Don’t worry, though. This will take some time.”