Double Shift

by David Skuy

  “Is it true? Do you really think you might have to leave Terrence Falls? You’ve only been here a year …”

  He quickly told her about his mom’s situation. “… But we’ve been going hard at it at the café,” he continued. “The entire team is helping, which is awesome. Spencer’s been helping too …”

  She furrowed her brow. “Since the entire team is there I assumed that meant Spencer too.”

  She did not sound happy. He was forever saying the wrong thing. But what had he said this time? She obviously liked Spencer, and he thought she would want to know Spencer had stepped up, that was all. “I just meant —”

  She cut him off. “So when do you boys get working again?”

  “Tomorrow after school.”

  “Count us in. We want bragging rights also.”

  “Who’s we?”

  “Me, Becca and Alex. I want in on saving your butt — again.”

  “Again?”

  “Saved your life on the bus; saved you in that dodge ball game with Jake; saved you from making a fool of yourself in front of student council when we were fundraising. Shall I continue?”

  “That should do it for now.” They had been through a lot together, come to think of it. “It’s hard work —” he began.

  “And since we’re girls …”

  “I didn’t mean that!”

  She sighed. “You really don’t get my zany sense of humour, do you?”

  He would have to agree with that. “Meet us at the café at four o’clock, and if you promise to be nice to me for the rest of this game, I’ll organize a pair of work gloves for each of you.”

  She put a hand on his arm. “When I heard that you were leaving Terrence Falls,” she said, “I almost …”

  “Go, Rebels, go! Go, Rebels, go! Go, Rebels, go!”

  Scott crossed over to where they were sitting. Nick was coming down the other aisle with Rebecca and Alexandra. Julia crossed her arms and put her feet back up on the chair. Nick slipped his cane under the seats.

  “When did you start sporting one of those?” Alexandra said to Nick.

  “I find a cane better suits my lifestyle,” Nick said.

  “Those are two things I never connected with you,” Scott said, “a life, and style.”

  The players for the next game came out and began racing around the ice. Alexandra checked her phone. She giggled.

  “Brandon’s so funny. Did I show you this?” She held her phone out for Julia to look at the screen. “You didn’t answer my text about the party,” she added. “Brandon, Nazem and Spencer are going.”

  Charlie kept his eyes glued to the ice. He noticed Scott was focused on tying his shoelaces, and Nick was fiddling with his cane.

  “I know. Sorry. It’s just that I might be busy,” Julia said.

  “Come on, Jules. You gotta. Becca’s already committed. A guy at their school rented out a hall and there’s a band and food and everything. Tickets are cheap, too. Please. Pretty please.”

  “Okay. Fine. It’s probably okay.”

  As hard as he tried to ignore the growing knot in his stomach, the thought of Julia going to a party with Spencer bothered him more than he wanted to admit. Which was dumb because Julia was just a friend and she could go to a party with whoever she wanted. Scott was not looking too happy either, but then it was common knowledge that Scott had a thing for Rebecca.

  The referee’s whistle sounded and the players began to line up for the faceoff.

  “So Brandon tells me you guys had a good game last week,” Alex continued. “He doesn’t know where Matt will play since he and Charlie are the centres …”

  “I like Matt up the middle,” Scott said. “He gives us more speed and power, so Charlie doesn’t have to carry the attack all the time.”

  “Excuse me?” Alexandra said.

  Julia caught Charlie’s eye and smiled. Alexandra certainly was not going to allow her Brandon to be dissed by the likes of Scott.

  Charlie tried to smooth things over. “I think he means that a third centre gives us more options. I, for one, like having a breather. Playing every other shift is tough.”

  “Come on, Joyce,” Scott said. “Brandon ain’t in Matt’s league. We all know that. I think we should shift Brandon to the wing.”

  “Brandon can play, but we’re talking Matt,” Nick added.

  “Sorry to interrupt your little lovefest,” Alexandra bristled, “but you guys are full of yourselves, and trust me, some of the players don’t like it.”

  “Alex!” Julia said.

  “It’s true. You’re always on about how things will be okay when Matt gets back, and Zachary, and Nick and Scott. How do you think that makes the other guys feel?”

  The three boys didn’t answer. Finally, Scott said, “I didn’t exactly mean it that way.”

  “Yes, you did,” she said. “You may not have meant to put them down intentionally, but you have to admit you don’t think the Rebels have a chance without Scott, Nick, Zachary and Matt playing.”

  Other than what he thought of Spencer’s skill on the ice, Charlie had to admit she was right. But there was more to it. Just like when they started to fix the café, he and his buds had only been thinking about themselves, their little group. None of them had given any thought to the rest of their teammates. Now he realized the same was true about the team. Charlie always thought of his closest friends as being the core, the most important players. But a team needs different types of players, and his crew were not the only guys that could play. Spencer, Nazem and Brandon were solid — more than solid; and they along with the other new Rebels were the same guys killing themselves to save the Rainbow. While things might not have been going as fast as he would like, they had cleaned up, organized the materials, cleared away the damaged drywall and ceiling tiles and chipped away some of the discoloured floor tiles.

  “That’s not the way it is,” Scott said. “And how did you get the inside info anyway? It’s Brandon, I bet.”

  She flushed. “That’s not the point.”

  “But he’s the leak, isn’t he?” Scott pressed. “I figured him for that.”

  “For what?” Alexandra said.

  Scott shrugged her off. “Not your team, not your worry.”

  “Whatever.”

  This could be bad, Charlie thought, and just when things were looking up. If Brandon and Alexandra were friends, and this got back to him, Charlie would be back to square one in uniting the Rebels. The bottom line was that Alexandra was right, regardless of how she found out. But he did not want to pick sides against Scott. Anyway, he had a feeling the thing Scott cared about most was Rebecca going to that party, not whether Matt or Brandon played centre.

  “Alexandra, maybe you have a bit of a point,” Charlie began tentatively. “We do tend to talk about things getting better when the guys hurt in the accident come back, and let’s face it, the team will get better. At the same time, the new guys have stepped up and done awesome. We have more points this year than we did last year at this time. I hate to say it, but Alexandra’s probably right about us. We’ve never given the new Rebels a real chance. In fact, why are we still calling them the new Rebels? It’s like we’re ten-year veterans or something.”

  Nick picked up his cane and started to tap it on the floor. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but I guess you’re right. But do we have to actually agree with Alex?”

  “Is that so bad?” Alexandra said.

  Scott squirmed in his seat and cleared his throat. “Best thing would be for Alex to apologize for making us realize we’re jerks, and just get it over with,” Scott said.

  “Is this how really immature boys apologize?” Alexandra said.

  Charlie could tell she was trying not to laugh.

  “Not entirely,” Scott said. “We also do a fist bump.”

  “Come on. That’s so … juvenile.” But she reached out and tapped her fist with his.

  “And there’s more,” Scott said. He held his forearm ou
t. Alexandra bumped it with hers.

  “Not quite done,” Scott said. “This is the hard part. You gotta quack like a duck and do a dance. It looks like this.”

  Scott began quacking away, squatting low with his butt stuck way out and turning around in a tight circle.

  “You need to do it too or the apology doesn’t work,” Nick whispered loudly.

  By this point the girls were laughing too hard to answer. “Please stop,” Julia barely managed to spit out, “People will think we know you.”

  Scott sat down. “Not our fault. She demanded an apology,” he said, pointing to Alexandra.

  “You should be apologizing for what I just saw,” Alexandra said. “Go buy us some hot chocolate.”

  “Alex, you’re relentless,” Julia said.

  “Shush, you. Now shoo and hurry up, boys,” Alexandra said.

  “She makes sense to me,” Rebecca said.

  “It’s usually my policy never to agree with girls under any circumstances, but a hot beverage and a snack might be just the thing we need in this situation,” Scott said.

  “It’s my policy never to agree with Scott, but he’s probably right,” Nick said. All of a sudden Nick looked up at the scoreboard, and then at Charlie. “How come you’re not getting dressed?” he said.

  “I got the time wrong and came early,” he said. “I thought the game was at 7:10.”

  “It is,” Scott said.

  Charlie shook his head. “It says 9:10 where they list the dressing rooms.”

  “Which is why we told the guy in the pro shop that they mixed the games up and he changed it,” Nick said.

  Charlie did not know whether to laugh or cry — and if no one had been there, maybe it would have been the latter. “Excuse me while Hilton yells at me for being late again.”

  He left to the sound of their laughter. It was funny, but he was not in the mood to laugh at himself. He was in the mood for things to go his way, for him to get a break. He was tired of pedalling up a mountain all the time.

  It would be nice to coast downhill once in a while.

  21

  A STEP BACK

  Brandon lost the draw and the puck spun to the Hornets’ left defenceman. Ryan forechecked, and the puck carrier banked it sharply off the boards to his left winger. He clearly thought he had some space, for he took a few steps with his head down to gain speed. Robert stepped in and made him wish he had been more careful.

  Scott cheered from the stands. “Massive hit.”

  “Awesome, Robert!” Nick called out.

  Brandon and the Hornets centre battled for the loose puck, which rested against the boards about two metres past the red line in the Rebels side of the ice.

  “It’s yours, Brandon,” Charlie said.

  The Hornets player slipped the puck between Brandon’s skates and legged it free, curling into the middle of the ice.

  Christopher had swung over to challenge. The centre wisely chipped the puck in and gave chase. Jonathon came back off his wing to retrieve the puck.

  “Take the left boards,” Charlie muttered. Under Hilton’s new system, Brandon should cover for Jonathon. Instead, he circled in the slot for a pass. That put him and Dylan on the same side, along with Chris and Robert.

  Pudge saw it too. “Might have a slight case of the bunchies,” he said.

  With all five Rebels on one side and under pressure from the oncoming centre, Jonathon flung the puck behind the net and around the far boards. Brandon broke off too late to get it and it squirted past him to the Hornets right defenceman. Jonathon stepped up to cover the other point, and Dylan as the right winger hustled across to the other side. Christopher and Robert settled into their positions down low. The only problem was that everyone had forgotten about the Hornets centre behind the net. He sneaked in behind Robert to Martin’s right, a metre out from the crease. At the last second Charlie saw it. He stood up.

  “Behind you,” he screamed.

  The defenceman rifled a beautiful diagonal pass to the centre, who turned his stick sideways and deflected it into the open side. Martin had barely moved.

  “Running around in our own end,” Hilton said. “You guys know better. We lost two battles for the puck, didn’t play hard in front of our net, and the result was a goal against. Hockey’s a simple game, even when you’re playing badly. Now put that behind you and focus.”

  He folded his arms across his chest and stared stonily toward centre. Charlie lowered his head and tapped the top of the boards with the shaft of his stick. He was burning to get out there, but Hilton had started Brandon, this time with Jonathon and Dylan on the flanks, and he was not going to shift things up just yet. Made sense, too. Better to give the boys on the ice a chance to redeem themselves.

  The puck dropped and this time Brandon knocked it to the right boards. Dylan flicked it past the winger and charged forward.

  “Hold on,” Charlie said to Pudge. “This looks promising.”

  The left defenceman went straight at him, determined to hold the blue line. Dylan surprised everyone by faking an outside move, then sliding the puck between the defenceman’s skates to set up a two-on-one. The other defender cut over and held his stick to cut off the pass. Dylan glanced to his left. Brandon had slowed at the high slot, his stick on the ice, clearly looking for a pass. Jonathon had a slight step on their right winger, but it would be hard for him to do more than rush the net. A metre inside the circle, Dylan swept his stick toward Brandon. The defenceman bit. Dylan immediately pulled the puck back to his forehand. The Hornets’ defenceman refused to give up, however. He scrambled to his left, forcing Dylan to make a quick decision: shoot or pass. He chose to shoot.

  Charlie got to his feet. The far side was wide open. The goalie had overplayed it —

  “Don’t do that!” Charlie said. He could not help himself. Dylan had missed the net by a metre, and the puck had wrapped around the boards. Jonathon reached for it, and he got the tip of his stick on it, not enough to get control, but enough to slow it down so the Hornets right winger could pick it up easily.

  Just like that the Hornets forwards surged out of their zone on a three-on-two.

  “Was that supposed to happen?” Pudge said.

  “Spencer and Philip will shut it down,” Charlie said.

  But after a token move inside, the puck carrier busted it wide right. Both defenders were caught flat-footed. Neither had expected such an aggressive and simple move. Martin stayed back in his net, playing for the deke, probably because the puck carrier was coming in so fast. Bad decision, as it turned out. He feigned a backhander, brought it over to his forehand, dipped his left shoulder and roofed a wicked shot under the crossbar.

  As painful as it was to watch, Charlie had to admire the goal. “That was a beauty,” he said. “No chance for Martin.”

  He and Pudge got up, assuming Hilton would call for a change. That had been two goals in forty-five seconds. But again Hilton remained with his arms crossed, a slight frown the only indication of his mood. They sat back down.

  “Perhaps he wants us to strategize some more,” Charlie said.

  “Perhaps he wants to lure the Hornets into a false sense of security before we pounce and score ten unanswered goals,” Pudge said.

  “Two–nothing in less than a minute; we’re doing a good job on the first part of the strategy,” Charlie said.

  Zachary put a hand on their shoulder pads. “Would you boys mind scoring two quickies?”

  Philip had the puck behind the Rebels’ net. He brought it out the right side. Dylan and Brandon crossed, like they were supposed to, with Jonathon sweeping across the top. The forechecker waved his stick wildly from left to right. Philip looked to pass to Brandon against the boards, but then hesitated and dropped the puck.

  “Get to it,” Pudge yelled.

  Spencer should have followed up. The puck sat there in the slot. The Hornets centre took it on his forehand and shot in one motion — another goal. Martin stared up at the ceiling. Philip did
the same.

  “Brutal,” Zachary said. He banged the top of the boards with his fist.

  “Now that’s the really brutal part,” Charlie said, pointing to the goal scorer. It was none other than Mike Dunn; a more obnoxious guy Charlie had never met. He was not mean like Jake and his crew, and he was basically harmless — just hard to take most of the time. He definitely liked scoring against the Rebels, and true to form he was windmilling his left arm, his right arm holding his stick high over his head, like he had just scored the overtime winner for the Stanley Cup. He glided toward the Hornets’ bench, balancing on his left foot, stick still held high.

  Spencer dug the puck out of the net and fired it down the length of the ice. The referee came over and said a few words to him. Spencer simply nodded. Hilton had one foot on the top of the boards. He called Spencer over and leaned down.

  “Switch,” Hilton said before Charlie could hear what he was going to say to Spencer. Hilton did not take kindly to temper tantrums. He hopped the boards and headed to centre.

  “Don’t worry about it, guys,” he said to Brandon and Dylan as he passed them. “One bad shift. You’ll get it back.”

  They did not respond. What was there to say? Barely a minute gone and it was 3–0. The ref held the puck over his head and then over the dot. Mike crouched for the draw. Charlie had to stop himself from smiling. Mike always did the same thing: reverse grip and pull it back to his right. As the puck fell, Charlie thrust his stick between Mike’s skates to tie up his stick. He then spun his butt into Mike’s midsection to create space and allow him to shovel the puck with his forehand back to Robert.

  The referee’s whistle immediately halted play. Charlie quickly counted the Hornets players. He guessed they had too many men. But they had five skaters, just like the Rebels. He looked up at the clock. It was working. “What’s the call?” he asked.

  The ref looked at him as if he had just asked the dumbest question in the world. “You’re in the box for two minutes.”

  Charlie turned around. “Who?”