by David Skuy
With a heavy heart, he opened the door.
23
THE LAST WALTZ
Charlie found he couldn’t look at his teammates. Instead he focused on carefully retaping two of the fingers on his right glove. He wasn’t sure how to tell them. He had only told Pudge, and Pudge had barely said a word to Charlie since. Charlie inspected his left glove. It was holding in there, so he left it alone. Hilton had gone over the game plan a few minutes before, and had barely started his pep talk when he cut it short and left. Charlie sensed it wasn’t going anywhere, and probably he did too.
Something was missing. It was that feeling in the dressing room when you know your team is stoked, that perfect mixture of nerves, confidence and calm — that combination of focus and excitement that takes you to a higher level. He looked around. The Rebels did not believe in themselves. They had taken steps forward as a team, only to fall back again. It was as if their failure at the café had been the last straw.
Charlie gathered his nerve. It would be the last thing he would ever do as captain of the Rebels. He could only hope it worked.
Dalton came in. “Coach Hilton has asked me to let you know that the game has been delayed due to an injury on the ice. The Zamboni is only just now coming out.”
He turned to leave.
“Stay here for a sec,” Charlie said to him. “I wanted to say something to the team and I want you to hear it too.”
Dalton looked surprised. “Is there something I can do?”
“I don’t need you for anything, other than to hear this. Bit of an announcement — a new development, I guess. First off, I gotta give you all huge props for the work at the Rainbow. Maybe we didn’t pull it off, but it wasn’t for lack of effort. It got me thinking last night, though. Better to lose as a team than win as individuals. The first Four Golden Rules of Hockey are all right, but Rule Five is the king. I’ve said this before, and I wanna say it again, for the last time. This will always be my team. Charlie Joyce will always be a Rebel.”
No one responded. The silence hung heavily.
“Is this about the café … and your mom?” Zachary said.
Charlie dropped his gloves in his bag. “My mom told me this morning, me and Danielle, who’s my sister, by the way, for those who don’t know — she’s the one ringing the cowbell most of the time. Anyway, my mom doesn’t think she can make enough money just selling her baking. She’s working insane hours, up at three in the morning and when she’s not going to bed early, she’s up real late getting stuff done. She said she can’t keep going like this —”
“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” Scott said. His face was white as a sheet.
“Couldn’t you stay until after the school year … or at least the season?” Nick said.
“She’s taken a job in Stanville, in a restaurant. We have to leave after Christmas.”
“Christmas is in one week,” Dalton said.
“Don’t I know it. We’ll stay with my mom’s friend for a few weeks and then move into another place my mom has found to rent. She wants us there as soon as possible to arrange for things — school …” He forced a grin. “I ain’t dying, guys — I’m coming back to watch you kick the Snow Birds’ collective butt in the finals.”
No one laughed.
“My dad said he could help after Christmas,” Matt said. “I kinda thought that might save things.”
“My mom doesn’t want to wait,” Charlie said, “and she doesn’t think the bank will wait either. She’s made up her mind, I guess.”
“This is a huge loss for the Rebels,” Spencer said. “I know this must be a killer for you and your crew. I feel bad for your mom, and bad that we couldn’t get it done for her. Tell her I’m sorry. And I’m not sure the finals is gonna happen without you, dude.”
Charlie knew exactly what to say. “That’s not true. This is the best team in the league. All we need is confidence. All year it’s been excuses: guys are hurt; we’re playing a new system; it’s just a rough patch. Forget all that. I’m not leaving this team as a loser. This is bigger than me having to move. This is representing. This is stepping up when it hurts inside. It’s suck-it-up time. I ain’t gonna look back on what might have been with the Rebels. I’m gonna look back at how the Rebels slaughtered the Wildcats one more time.”
“A Wildcats butt-kicking does intrigue me …” Nick said.
“I’m with Charlie on this,” Spencer said.
“True dat,” Brandon said.
Charlie could have run through a wall he was so ready to play. “This is the game when we put it all together, boys. We stop thinking about Hilton’s system and we just do it. We totally commit. It’s time for Rebels hockey, which means playing a thousand kilometres an hour — and hard. This game is over the minute we step on the ice. Everyone here agree?”
They sure did, and the team chant of “Re-bels! Re-bels! Re-bels!” started up.
Charlie held his hands up to quiet them down. “This is my last game as a Rebel, and my last game wearing this C on my jersey. We’re a team — and that means no player is more important than another. We win or lose together, and that includes these two strange dudes who are in the stands every game, Zachary working the door, and each of the guys wearing a uniform in this room.
“We may not be much of a construction crew, but I say we’re the best team in the East Metro Hockey League, and after this game, the Wildcats are gonna know it. This is Rebel-time, boys.”
Dalton opened the door and did a quick check for time.
“The Zamboni has a final lap and then we’re on,” he said.
“Hands in,” Charlie said, standing up in the middle of the room, and the Rebels solemnly held their gloves out. “That means everyone,” he said, and Scott, Nick and Zachary added theirs. “You too, Dalton,” Charlie ordered.
“No regrets after this game,” he continued. “No wondering what if we’d only pushed harder, fought for that puck a little more, backchecked a little faster. We’re Rebels to the core, and we’re gonna play like that. Do it, Spencer.”
“Uh-uh. Captain leads this cheer.”
Charlie took a deep breath. “Rebels on three,” he shouted. “One … Two … Three.”
“Rebels!”
Martin and Andrew led them out. As was their tradition, Charlie and Pudge held back.
“Weird to think this is our last game together,” Pudge said.
“I still remember the first time Hilton put us on the same line,” Charlie said.
“At practice, for the Champions Cup team.”
“And you got two goals.”
“Because you set me up.”
“Maybe we should do that again, for old times’ sake — and maybe add a few,” Charlie grinned.
They punched gloves.
For the first time since the night at the café when they stopped working Pudge looked Charlie square in the eye. “If it weren’t for you, I’d still be that pathetic kid always being bullied by Jake, scared of his own shadow. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”
“That’s never gonna change,” Charlie said. He gave Pudge’s shin pads two whacks, then two more. Pudge did the same to him. Together they walked out. Pudge hopped onto the ice and began to race across the blue line. Charlie paused a moment. The Rebels supporters were sitting together behind their bench. Scott and Nick were leading the cheers. Next to them he spotted Julia, Rebecca and Alexandra. Brent, the team sponsor, was there too. Charlie’s mom and Danielle were standing, Danielle clanging her cowbell like crazy over her head. He felt the weight of responsibility, to the Rebels, to his family, to the people cheering, to his coach, and it felt darn good. He was going to enjoy this game for all it was worth.
He stepped onto the ice and pushed off. Spencer snapped a pass to him. Charlie cradled the puck with the tip of his blade, and then hit Dylan streaking down the middle to take a shot on Martin.
* * *
The puck ricocheted off the boards and spun on its side, stopping at the R
ebels’ blue line. Liam and Robert ignored the puck entirely and lowered their shoulders simultaneously for a hit. They both bounced backward, stunned by the force of the check. Charlie and Jake were the nearest players to the puck and they bore down, arriving at the same time. Charlie was smaller than Jake, but he felt as if he could lift half a ton with one arm. Jake tried to create space by extending his elbow. Charlie dug his edges in, bent his knees and drove a shoulder into Jake’s ribcage.
“Loser,” Jake grunted.
“Get your own puck,” Charlie replied, as he flicked it back to Robert.
Robert pushed the puck up ice, and when Roscoe cut over he saucered a pass over his stick onto the blade of the breaking Pudge.
“Enjoy this,” Liam said with a sneer. The shaft of his stick buried itself into Charlie’s side.
“This too,” Jake said, delivering a vicious cross-check just above the elbow.
Charlie absorbed the blows and took off down the ice. He would not be goaded into a fight in this game — no chance. As much as those cheap shots had hurt, Charlie had only one purpose. Jake and Liam were behind the play, and if Charlie got there in time he could support the rush.
Pudge looked over his shoulder and then veered to the right sharply, to the centre of the neutral zone, leaving the puck about three metres from the blue line. Matt was there to gather it up, taking it hard toward the left wall. All the while, the Wildcats right defenceman watched on warily. Once Matt crossed the blue line, Pudge made a beeline for the slot, and Robert, suddenly as offensively minded as Spencer, drifted to the left to give Matt an outlet.
All this time Charlie was killing himself to catch up. Matt slowed at the top of the circle, took a step toward the defenceman, and gave it to Robert. Without a second’s hesitation, Matt drove around the defender, who had to peel off to cover him, which gave Robert more space to move closer to the net. Roscoe cut across the top of the Wildcats’ zone to stop him. Robert waited until he was less than two metres away and flicked the puck between his legs. The puck landed flat and settled in the slot, two metres before the hash marks.
Charlie collected the puck in full flight. He could sense Jake and Liam behind him. Matt fought for position near the goalie’s right, and Pudge battled to his left. He did not have much time. Best to shoot, he figured, and he was about to pull the trigger when the defenceman covering Pudge surprised him by throwing himself on the ice to block the shot. Charlie jumped and swung the puck wide to his forehand. The puck barely slipped past the sprawling player’s skates, but Charlie was not as lucky and the tips of his blades caught the player’s shin pads. He felt himself become airborne, heading for a painful crash landing.
Somehow the puck was still on his stick, however. He considered a shot until a familiar voice changed his mind.
“Char. Over.”
Charlie lowered his left shoulder and hooked the puck to Pudge at the side of the crease. The rest was a blur. He landed on his shoulder, his helmet also taking a good knock, and spun over once before sliding into Matt and the other Wildcats defenceman. A pair of gloves thudded into his back and his face was pressed onto the ice. His chin struck with a fair bit of force so that he might have been seriously hurt if he had not been wearing a cage.
“Stay down, loser.”
He felt another sharp blow to his head.
“Play is over, boys,” the referee said.
Jake gave him another none-too-gentle push at the back of his head and got off. Charlie was on his feet in an instant. Enraged, he took a step toward Jake, who was laughing at him, egging him on. Charlie almost threw a punch. At the last moment he relaxed his arms and lowered his gloves. That was not the way he was going to end his last game in a Rebels uniform; Rule Five would not let him. In that moment, his anger melted away. The Rebels supporters were cheering like mad, and he could hear a cowbell ringing. Pudge had his stick over his head, and so did the twins. They had scored the first goal.
“You got away with another cheap shot, Wilkenson,” Charlie said. “But you also cost your team a goal. Looks like I win again.”
Jake did not seem too bothered. “I’ll get it back when I feel like it. More important to trash your face.”
“Be nice. You know how sensitive he is,” Liam said.
Pudge thrust himself so close to Liam that their facemasks were only inches apart. “You don’t look so tough up close.”
Liam backed away, but his cocky grin wasn’t going anywhere. “Pudgikins is cranky — quick, get him a doughnut!”
Pudge laughed him off. “You’re a broken record. Same lines for ten years.”
Charlie moved over so he and Pudge were shoulder to shoulder. For a few moments it was a staring contest.
The referee stepped in between them. “Are we going to have problems today?” he said. He blasted his whistle and pointed to the centre dot. “I’m happy to give a penalty to anyone who wants to keep mouthing off.”
Even Liam kept quiet.
Charlie and his teammates celebrated their goal with a few high-fives as they headed to the bench for a change. Danielle’s cowbell continued to clang above the cheering din of the spectators.
“Awesome rush, Robert,” Charlie called over to the defenceman at the other end of the bench. “That was your goal.” Robert merely blushed and nodded his head a few times. Charlie tapped Pudge’s shin pads. “I still owe you one more.”
“No kidding. I’m not letting you off the hook. Only you don’t have to kill yourself to do it.”
“Small price to pay.”
Zachary gave both of them a slap on the back as they settled in. “Heart and skill, dudes. They can’t stop that.” Leaning closer he added, “and good work not taking a penalty. They’ll be after you guys all game.”
“Let ’em,” Charlie said. “Makes me feel better.”
He rooted around the front ledge for a water bottle. His arm, where Jake had cross-checked him, brushed against the butt-end of Jonathon’s stick. He winced and almost dropped the bottle.
“I like the flow and intensity level so far,” Hilton said to them all. “Only we need to win the war, not the battle. They’ll come back at you twice as hard. Are we ready for the challenge?”
Charlie took a big sip. He was hurting, but he couldn’t have cared less. He was determined not only to meet the challenge, but to fly over it. “One goal means nothing,” he said to his teammates. “We increase the effort level and take the play to them. We crush their spirit and the game is ours. We win this game one shift at a time.”
Spencer dove at a loose puck and knocked it free to Philip before sliding sideways into the boards. His partner one-timed it off the wall and out of the Rebels’ zone to relieve the pressure. Spencer was very slow getting up, but he did not even look to the bench. A shake of the head and he was right back in the play.
“Next shift, we have Charlie going out with Jonathon and Dylan,” Hilton announced.
Charlie stood and put his foot on the edge of the bench. Nazem had won the puck on the right side and with a nifty inside move had some space to push forward in the neutral zone. Instead of forcing another rush after a hard shift, he got over centre and dumped it in deep. All three Rebels immediately headed to the bench, breathing heavily. They had given it their all.
“Nice shift,” Charlie shouted as he flew off the boards and took off to pressure the Wildcats defenceman camped out with the puck behind his net.
24
BACK TO WORK
For the remainder of the first period and then the second, both teams settled into a tense, bitterly fought rhythm, as the Rebels and the Wildcats took turns storming the net, each playing with a desperate intensity. The harder the Wildcats pushed, the harder the Rebels pushed back — a case of an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object.
Charlie took a short pass from Christopher on his backhand and, cutting sharply at the top of the circle, powered out of the Rebels’ zone. The Wildcats were changing on the far side of the ice, a bad change too, whi
ch gave him some room. Matt had shifted over close to centre, with Pudge camped out by the left wall a couple of metres across centre. In this situation, Charlie was tempted to go it alone and see if he could beat the Wildcats’ defence. A turnover at the blue line nursing a one-goal lead was inexcusable, however — and selfish. He gained the red line and reared back as a signal to his linemates to take off. When they were about a metre away from the blue line he lofted a forehand in Pudge’s direction.
Pudge had been a monster on the forecheck all game. Again he beat the right defenceman to the puck, absorbing a big hit in the process and. keeping his feet moving. shovelled it around the back of the net to Matt at the hash marks. Charlie had drifted over to Pudge’s side waiting for things to develop, and when he saw the Rebels had control of the puck, he snuck down low. Matt banked it off the wall to him. Charlie pressed his skate against the wall to stop the puck and then kicked it up to this stick. By then Jake, Liam and Roscoe had flooded back to defend, with Liam in the high slot, Roscoe covering Christopher at the left point, and Jake and the right defenceman bearing down on him.
If two guys were on him, Charlie reasoned, a Rebels player had to be open. Pudge took his customary spot in front. Matt drifted into the slot. They were covered. That left Robert wide open at the right point. Charlie considered a pass to him. Again, he decided it was too risky. “Behind,” he yelled, knowing Pudge would get himself behind the net for a pass. Before Jake or the defenceman got too close he gave the puck back to Pudge. The defenceman broke off and returned to the front of the net. Charlie had no doubt Jake would finish his check. In fact, he counted on it.
Jake’s eyes were blazing as he left his feet to deliver the crushing check. Charlie stood still at first, then at the last second did a 360-degree spin. Jake brushed past his shoulder and smashed into the boards with such force Charlie heard him gasp for breath. He could not stay to enjoy that beautiful sound, however. There was a goal to score. Robert had moved further in, a metre past the top of the circle, which drew Liam away from the slot. Matt occupied the defenceman in front, so with Jake out of the play Charlie was able to slip into open space in front.