by David Skuy
That proved to be an understatement. Time after time the defenders broke up the attack. Charlie became discouraged. The 1–3–1 was impenetrable. Hilton gave the puck to Philip, who once again pressed forward toward Brandon. This time his pass to Spencer was on the money. Charlie curled into the space in front of Christopher. Robert covered Pudge cutting across. Nazem converged to stop Spencer at the red line. Will moved to his left to guard against a pass to Jonathon. Christopher drifted to the left also.
Charlie suddenly got it. The passing lane would be open to him because Christopher had vacated that spot. “Yo, Spencer,” he called.
Spencer saw it too. Charlie broke with the pass and crossed the blue line just on side. He was in alone. Martin readied himself for the breakaway. Charlie faked a snap shot at the hash marks, threw in a stutter step to force the goalie to commit to his butterfly, and then lifted a backhand inside the post on the glove side. It was a sweet goal, but Charlie would never celebrate at a practice and show his goalie up. Instead, he turned back laughing and slapped Martin’s pads.
“That always works in practice. In a game I can’t lift it more than an inch off the ice,” he said.
“I wanted to give you some confidence,” Martin said, hopping up on his skates. “Give me your A-move next time.”
Charlie came closer. “Don’t tell the guys, but I don’t have one.”
Martin gave his shin pads a tap with his paddle and whispered, “They already know.”
Charlie laughed harder this time and gave Martin’s pads a final whack before heading back to centre.
They lined up again, with wingers and defence pairings switching it up, and slowly Charlie felt things get sharper. The defencemen began to make better choices. The forwards hesitated less often. Charlie was relieved to see Matt fitting in so easily. He was a strong skater and played only one way — full out. Charlie saw Spencer talking to Matt after those two connected on a play. Perhaps his instinct about his new teammates was right; they were coming around.
Finally, Hilton blew his whistle to end the practice. “An impressive effort, gentlemen,” he said. “I have a good feeling about our next game against the Hornets. It looks like we’re starting to put things together. So far it’s been a few shifts here, a period there — I want you thinking about putting together a solid three periods,” Hilton said.
“We put together three periods, and then three games,” Charlie said. “Time for us to put together our playoff run.”
“Amen to that,” Matt said.
“Give me a quick three laps and then off the ice,” Hilton commanded.
Charlie was determined to set the pace, and he flew off the mark down the side wall and then, leaning hard on his inside leg, carved behind the net and again back up the wall. He heard heavy breathing behind him: it was Spencer. The big defenceman could wheel with the best of them, and Charlie was not surprised he was next in line. But Charlie was not going to let him win that easily. A quick glance over his shoulder suggested Spencer was going to try and beat him when they got to the back wall. Charlie stayed out wide as he crossed the blue line and only when he got to the hash marks did he dart to his left, almost brushing the goalpost with his shoulder as he powered around the net.
“Not bad, Joyce,” Spencer said, maybe a metre behind him. “I had a feeling you’d cheat.”
Charlie turned his head slightly. “You can still enjoy watching my back for one more lap,” Charlie said.
Spencer laughed. “I think it’s time we traded spots.”
Brandon, Will and Jonathon were obviously unaware that this was a race, and they were taking their time. Charlie and Spencer bore down on them. At the red line, Charlie swung to his right just as Will began to swing his arms around as he told a story. Charlie had to duck and jump to the side, and he could do little to stop Spencer from cutting in between Brandon and Jonathon and taking the lead.
“Now who’s cheating?” Charlie called out, laughing.
Spencer pumped his fist in the air. Charlie gave it his all but Spencer had too much of a lead, and in half a lap there was no way he could catch him. Spencer stopped at the door with a flourish, sending a massive shower of snow into the air. Charlie did the same, but with the advantage of being able to cover his teammate with snow, rather than the boards.
“I’m very disappointed in you,” Charlie said. “Not sure you’re mature enough to apologize right away, but take your time and try to get the words right.”
Spencer nodded, as if in serious contemplation. “That’s a good idea. I think I’ll wait a couple of years.”
Charlie gave him a forearm to the chest, and opened the door. “Leave me alone. I need to cry this out.”
He hopped off the ice.
“Guys seemed a bit more stoked for the practice today,” Charlie said cautiously, interested in hearing what Spencer thought. The new Rebels looked up to Spencer, and if Charlie could get him on side, the rest would follow; at least that’s what he hoped.
“I admit I’m getting a bit stoked about Hilton’s system. I’m understanding what he means, maybe not all the time, but once in a while. It’s amazing the difference when you’re moving your feet, getting in position, and looking at the entire ice.”
Dalton held the dressing room door open. “Good practice, gentlemen,” he said.
“If our manager’s happy, then it must have been good,” Spencer said. Then he laughed to show he was joking.
“He obviously didn’t see your disgraceful performance,” Charlie said.
Dalton’s face fell. “Oh dear. What happened? Is there a problem?”
Was there a more sincere guy in the world, Charlie wondered? He gave Dalton’s shoulder a clip with his glove as he walked past. “I’m only kidding, Dalton. He beat me in a race, and now he’s so arrogant he’s impossible to be around.”
“Not true,” Spencer said, flopping on the bench. “My problem is I’m so awesome it’s painful for others to be in my presence.”
Dalton looked helplessly at Charlie and then said in a whisper, “He’s joking too, right?”
“You’re definitely catching on,” Charlie said.
“I have noticed that I sometimes take things too seriously and fail to appreciate the levity of the situation,” Dalton said.
“Dude, don’t change — you wouldn’t want to end up like him,” Spencer said, pointing at Charlie. He held out a fist and Dalton gave it a tentative punch.
The rest of the guys piled in, and the dressing room became a lively place.
Will was still holding court with Jonathon and Brandon. Pudge and Matt were talking about the lines for the Hornets game, and Dylan was finding a song he wanted Nazem to hear. Only Christopher and Robert were quiet. Dalton came over to Charlie.
“Zachary just called from the dealership,” he said. “They have separated the materials we can use, and apparently they will be delivered to the café in less than an hour. We might need to hurry and get over there.”
“What café are you talking about?” Spencer said. “Is that your mom’s place?”
“Is your mom fixing it up?” Jonathon asked.
“What’s Zachary doing?” Brandon said.
Charlie looked pointedly at Dalton, who reddened stepped back toward the door. Maybe he had not told Dalton specifically to keep things quiet, but Charlie thought that was obvious. The entire situation was embarrassing to him. He did not want everyone on the team to know his business, and he absolutely did not want them to know he might have to leave the team. The Rebels had enough to deal with this season already.
He had to give them an answer, however. “It’s nothing,” Charlie said. “We’re just cleaning things up for my mom. Zachary’s helping, since he can’t practise.”
“Who else is helping?” Jonathon said.
The room was quiet again. “My mom’s been working hard starting up a new business, baking for people, events and stuff like weddings … and stuff … and she’s had no time to deal with the fire. I asked s
ome of the guys to help me.”
“What are you guys doing there?” Robert asked.
“Just cleaning up … fixing things a bit.”
“I assume Scott and Nick are helping … with Zachary,” Spencer said.
“I … um … think so,” Charlie said. “Well, obviously I know … they are.” Charlie wished they would stop grilling him about this. Why did they care so much, anyway?
“And Pudge,” Jonathon said.
“And Matt,” Brandon said.
His friends nodded. The new Rebels, especially Spencer, looked disappointed. Will shook his head a few times and tossed his gloves slowly into his bag. Nazem took a few deep breaths. Even more disturbing were the reactions of the original Rebels, like the twins, and Jonathon and Dylan. They looked downright mad — and he had to assume they were mad at him.
Then it dawned on him. They had the right to be mad. He had done it again, but this time even worse, ignoring not only the new Rebels but also many of his teammates from last year. In his effort to keep his problems a secret, he had caused more problems for the Rebels. Charlie lowered his eyes to the floor.
“I didn’t want to bother you guys with all this stuff; maybe that was dumb. Truth is, me and Pudge, Matt, Zachary, Scott and Nick … and Dalton … are trying to fix up my mom’s café, replacing some walls and ceiling tiles, repairing the range, lots of stuff.” He leaned back against the wall and looked up. All his teammates had stopped undressing and were waiting for him to continue. He hesitated for a second, but that was all.
Because now he really understood what Rule Five was all about.
“My mom’s business isn’t going so great; well, it’s going, but apparently it will take more time; and the bank wants money from her and the landlord and … well … to complicate things my mom’s been offered a job at a restaurant, which is great; what’s not great is it’s in Stanville. We’ll have to move. And … I guess that’s it. We’re trying to repair the damage from the fire so she can reopen and make some money in time. It’s a long shot — a total long shot, but we figured it was worth a try.”
“But wouldn’t the insurance pay for that?” Dylan asked.
That was a question he could have done without. But he had gone this far. “The fact is the fire was my fault. I left the range on the night we played the Wildcats, and that’s why the insurance company won’t pay us. My mom’s got a lawyer, but it’ll take months to figure out, apparently.”
“And what are Zachary, Nick and Scott doing again?” Brandon said.
“Dalton had the idea of salvaging the building supplies we need,” Charlie said, “which basically means we take stuff people are throwing out or don’t need from other construction sites and reuse it.”
“Let me get this straight,” Spencer said. “You caused the fire by leaving the stove on, and you dudes think you can fix it yourselves.”
“I suppose,” Charlie said.
“And you’re getting the materials from the garbage.”
“Essentially.”
“And if you don’t pull it off, you have to move to Stanville.”
Charlie nodded.
“When do you need us?” Spencer said matter-of-factly.
Charlie leaned against the wall, staring back at him.
“If you want, right after practice,” Dalton said, jumping in. “We have a shipment of materials arriving soon.”
Spencer glanced quickly at Brandon, and then over at Will and Nazem. Each nodded ever so slightly. Jonathon flashed a thumbs-up, as did Dylan and Martin. Andrew had leaned over to untie his pads. He looked up and nodded also.
The twins looked at each other. “We’re in,” Robert said.
“Sounds good to me,” Spencer said.
Charlie was overwhelmed.
“We can all meet at the Rainbow Café in about an hour,” Pudge said. “This is awesome of you guys. We’ll get it done in half the time now.”
“I will revise the schedule in light of the additional manpower,” Dalton said.
Charlie still did not trust himself to speak. He wished his mom could have seen what had just happened. That would have convinced her. A picture of the café came to mind.
Look out Rainbow. You’re about to get a Rebels makeover.
20
NEW RECRUITS
Charlie held the arena door for his mom.
“Good luck, Charlie,” she said, taking a sip of coffee. “Who are you playing again?”
“The Hornets,” he said and, lowering his voice, added, “They’re not the best team in the world … so we should win this one.”
“I thought it was one shift at a time,” she said.
“Are you becoming a hockey insider on me?”
She arched her eyebrows. “I’ve watched you play a few thousand games, so I’ve picked up some lingo along the way. Anyway, you should get going. Your game starts in less than an hour.”
Charlie searched for the Rebels on the dressing room listings — and felt his heart fall to his feet. In a panic he looked at the teams on the ice and then the scoreboard. “I don’t get it,” he said. “That game is almost over, and there’s two games now before ours. Did I …”
“Oh, Charlie. Did you get the time wrong?”
“I thought Dalton said 8:10 …”
“You told me 7:10.”
He flushed. “You may have a point there.”
But his mom did not laugh. “It’s been a long day and you made me rush to get here …”
For a second he thought she was actually going to cry. She had been like this for a while now, always irritable and emotional. He did not know what made him do it, but he went over and gave her a hug.
“Sorry, Mom,” he said softly. “Another one of my dumb moves.”
She hugged him back. “Yes it was — but I forgive you because I know your brain is still too small to remember game times.”
“Thanks for understanding,” he said, and they both laughed. “You don’t have to stay. It’ll be two hours before we start. Go home and I’ll catch a lift with one of the guys.”
“Are you sure?”
“No worries. You can watch game number three thousand and one next week — when we play the Wildcats. And, like, how big is that game?”
“Um … Totally awesome?”
Charlie shook his head slowly. “You’d probably want to go with ‘Massive’ or ‘Huge.’”
“I guess I’m still learning. I’m a bit too tired to be ‘Cool Mom’ right now anyway. I think I will go home and rest up for the Wildcats. Gotta beat the Wildcats!”
“Now that’s a ‘Cool Mom’ thing to say.”
She gave him a kiss and turned to leave.
With an hour to kill, a snack would be nice. “Hey, Mom,” he called out. She turned. Her face was lined with worry. “I’ll … uh … see you later, at home.”
“Okay, dear. Have a good game.”
He walked to the stands slowly. With the way things were he did not need to spend her money on junk from the snack bar, that’s for sure. He carried his bag up the stairs and laid his sticks across it. The game was almost over. By the size of the players he judged them to be atoms. A forward for the blue team took a huge backswing and tried a slapshot, missing the puck completely and falling on his butt. He could remember doing the same thing a bunch of times when he was a kid. His dad kept telling him not to worry about slapshots, but he would not listen, and his dad had been prouder than anyone when he finally learned to raise the puck. He had to laugh.
“Be nice to the little guy. He’s cute.”
His old friends the butterflies kicked in. Julia was sitting across the aisle a few seats in, feet on the back of the chair in front of her.
“What are you doing here …?” he said.
She peered at him from under her hat. “I had a practice before this game. Becca and Alex are coming to watch your game, and I figured I’d hang with them too. I didn’t feel like going home and coming back, so I decided to stay. I’ve texted them
— they’ll be here soon.”
“Since when did they become such diehard Rebels supporters?”
“Is Brandon playing?” she asked.
“Yeah. Why?”
“We went out, the girls and I, with him and Spencer and Nazem to a movie — and then for ice cream — last week. Brandon invited us. It was no big deal, but that’s why Alex is coming.” She took off her hat and ran a hand through her hair. “I believe Alex may have a slight crush on him. Don’t tell anyone or she’ll kill me — although I think she’s told everyone anyway. You know Alex.”
Charlie’s chest tightened. “That’s cool. I mean, they’re good guys. Good players too, especially Spencer. Awesome skater with the puck, sees the entire ice. I can see why you like him.”
Arms crossed and leaning back in her seat, Julia took a deep breath. Charlie thought she looked a little flushed, like she had a fever.
“Are you feeling okay?” he asked.
“I’m fine, Charlie.” The buzzer sounded to end the game. The blue team had won and the players raced from their bench to mob their goalie. “Are you going to be antisocial the whole time?” she said.
He looked around. “Antisocial? Why? No. I mean … What do you mean?”
She sighed and patted the seat next to her. Charlie grinned awkwardly and moved across the aisle.
“You must be pretty stoked for this one. Why so early?” she said.
“More stupid than stoked. I got the time wrong.”
She threw her head back and laughed. “Of course you did.”
“That’ll be our little secret, right?”
“I won’t tell anyone … except Scott and Nick and Alex and Mr. Hilton … and I should probably update my Facebook status and share it with all my friends.
“Okay. But it can’t go beyond that.”
The gates opened and the Zamboni came out. The conversation suddenly lagged, and Charlie felt at a loss for words.
Julia retied her ponytail and then put her hands in her lap. In a soft voice she said, “Spencer told me about the café … and about Stanville.”
If she knew, then everyone must know, which kind of bothered him. It was personal stuff. Julia was different, of course. She was a friend. But he did not want all the kids at school bugging him about it.