by David Skuy
“You’re on the worst team in AA, big shot,” Kinger mocked. “Hockey’s not for midgets.”
“Did I just score two goals, or are you blind, too?”
“You’d last two seconds on the ice with me.”
“You can’t hit what you can’t catch.”
“So you can skate. You ever go into the corners?”
“Bite me, loser. You’re all talk. I know how you play. Cheap shots and garbage goals is all you’re good for.”
“Then do something about it,” Kinger said. He took a very big step forward.
“Leave it alone,” Ben said from his goal.
Rocket backed up. He couldn’t help himself. Kinger snickered and rolled his eyes. “Check out the tough guy. Biggest flinch ever.” Kinger stepped forward and straight-armed him in the shoulder. There was no turning back. Rocket knew he was going to get killed, but that would be way better than being labelled a wuss and a coward.
“Anytime, bro,” Rocket said. “Bring it. Drop your stick already, so I can shut your stupid mouth.”
Kinger let his stick drop from his hands.
Ty stepped in front of Rocket. “This is over,” he said.
“Out of my way — I have to teach Pocket a lesson,” Kinger said.
“I said it’s done.” Ty stared Kinger down. “It’s a stupid floor hockey game. You’re going mental over nothing.”
“The midget talks and talks and talks. He needs to show respect,” Kinger said.
“What about the slash to my leg?” Rocket said, moving next to Ty. “Where’s your respect?”
“Let’s forget about it,” Ty said.
“Why should I?” Rocket said. “He makes a team because he’s big, but he can’t even skate.” Rocket felt better for having said that in front of Ty and Adam.
“Hockey’s a contact sport,” Kinger said. “Deal with it.”
“Shut up, guys,” Ty said.
“You act like I’m the only guy who thinks he’s a joke,” Kinger said. “You and Ad-man both said there’s no way he can play contact anymore. Admit it.”
Ty hesitated, but only for a moment. “I’d have him on my team before you, any day,” he said.
“You really think you can stop me?” Kinger said to Ty.
Rocket found it hard to breathe. Ty had stepped up, big time. Now it was his turn. Maybe they weren’t such good friends anymore. Maybe all along it had been more about hockey. But they’d been teammates for three years, and teammates stood up for each other.
“It’s cool, Ty,” he said. “I’m not afraid. I’ll deal with him.” Rocket braced himself. This was going to be ugly.
Ty didn’t budge. “Can’t do that,” he said.
Adam came over and stood next to Ty, and Ben and Thomas joined him.
“Isn’t going to happen, bro. Forget it,” Adam said.
Kinger held his arms up in the air. “Whatever. Butt Losers is more like it.” He pointed at Rocket. “Open invitation to finish when your big brothers aren’t around to fight your battles. C’mon, Harry. Let’s space.”
Harry looked around the gym, first at Kinger and then at Ty and Adam. He shrugged. “I’ll … catch you later. I have to talk to Ty about something.”
Kinger rolled his eyes again. “I knew this was a waste of time. I’ll open the invitation to any of you. Just tell me when and where.” He opened his arms wide again. “Anyone? Just like I figured. All tough talk.” He pointed at Bird and the others at centre. “I don’t suppose any of you Organisms want to drop the gloves with me?”
“What does that actually mean?” Bird said.
Kinger threw his head back and roared. “That was perfect, bro. Perfect. What does that actually mean?” he mimicked. “Priceless, or what?” He left the gym.
Rocket knew he should say something. The boys had just done him a serious solid. They knew he couldn’t fight Kinger. But everything he thought of sounded lame. He stared at the floor.
“I’m serious,” Bird said. “What did he mean?”
That broke them all up.
“Means he wanted to fight,” Adam said.
Bird’s jaw dropped. “Fight that guy? Do I look insane?”
Ty elbowed Rocket. “You are nuts. You know that, right?”
“I might’ve lost my temper,” Rocket said. “I probably would’ve taken him, though.”
Ty shook his head, but he was smiling, and so was Adam.
Mr. Brighton, a gym teacher, walked into the gym with the ref. The veins in his arms and neck showed through his skin, and his forehead was deeply lined. He was mad.
“Who were the boys involved in the fight?” he said.
The ref looked around. “He was one,” he said, nodding at Rocket. “The guy from the other team isn’t here. He was really big, way bigger than him.”
Mr. Brighton lowered his head and raised his eyebrows. “Who was this other guy, Bryan?”
Kinger was a king-sized jerk, and Rocket would’ve loved to see him get in serious trouble. But he wasn’t going to rat on him. No way. Hopefully, Brighton had played a little hockey in his time, and he’d let it slide.
“Bryan? Will you answer the question, please?”
Rocket smiled awkwardly. “There wasn’t really a fight. It was just … we were fooling around. It’s hockey; you know how it is.”
Brighton rubbed his chin with his hand. “So Edward is lying?”
Rocket didn’t want the kid to get in trouble. He’d probably gotten scared when Rocket and Kinger had dropped their sticks and he’d run off to get a teacher.
“We had a little scrum in front of the net. No big deal.”
Brighton’s eyes narrowed. “Fine. Don’t tell me. But until I know who that other person is, I think you’ve played your last game for the year — and that goes the same for both teams. So is anyone talking?”
The gym was silent.
“I will not tolerate fighting — ever,” Brighton said. He looked around. “Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mr. Brighton,” a few kids mumbled.
“Good. Game’s over. Put the sticks and nets away and get ready for your next class.” He folded his arms across his chest.
Ty and Adam took their sticks to the storage room. Rocket cast a confused look at Brighton and followed them to put his stick away.
“Don’t blame me, Rockwood,” Brighton called out. “You know better than to get into a fight — over floor hockey, for Pete’s sake.”
“So, is that what you call a little scrum?” Ty said to Rocket when he walked in.
Rocket laughed and tossed his stick into the garbage bin. “Maybe it was more like a tussle. Sorry about that. I can’t believe Brighton kicked you guys out.”
“Brighton’s insane,” Ty said. “We all know that. I’m not defending Kinger for what he did, but I’m not blabbing to Brighton, either.”
“No chance,” Adam said.
“You hanging around after school?” Ty said. “We’re playing soccer.”
Rocket had promised to hang with Maddy. But Ty was obviously trying to make up, and it would be nice to be friends again.
“Sure. Sounds cool. I’ll come by. Is a certain someone playing?”
“Who cares?” Ty said. “No one messes with us, right?”
They used to say that whenever another team tried to push one of them around. It sounded funny now that Rocket didn’t play for the Huskies. It was nice to hear, though.
“So, after school?” Adam said.
He nodded. Kinger wouldn’t show, not after this.
“I’ll speak to Brighton, too,” Ty said. “He might give us a second chance once he’s cooled down. And, maybe, you could come back and play with the Butt Kickers?”
“I was dumb to invite Kinger,” Adam said. “Totally on me.”
Rocket knew he was turning beet red. “Maybe. I’ll … um … We’ll see. We can figure it out after school.”
“Cool. Bring it,” Ty said.
“Always,” Rocket said. He nodded at
his former two best friends, and he wondered if things might go back to normal, at least outside of hockey. “See you later.” He left the storage room.
Bird and the team, along with Megan, were gathered in the middle of the gym.
“I still say we won the game,” Bird said, “which makes this our first win ever. Thanks, Bryan,” he said.
“We’ve been kicked out of intramurals,” Nigel said. “What’s the point of him being on the trivia team now?”
Megan glared at Nigel. Bird, Des and Daniel were at a loss for words.
“Nigel means it’s too bad Mr. Brighton did that — it would’ve been fun …” Megan said. Words seemed to fail her also.
He didn’t need to hear more. Things were clear. His sports-trivia expertise was not really needed — and they already knew the names of Asian cities. They’d only wanted him to play on the Organians and help them win. He felt like a huge idiot: a little boy who’d been tricked by the big kids. “Good luck next week against Woburn,” he said quietly.
“They didn’t mean that …”
He walked away before Megan could finish. He didn’t want them to see that he was actually upset. Somehow, the trivia team had become important to him, something to do that wasn’t so hyper-competitive, like hockey, but that he was still good at. And maybe, for the first time in his life, he’d felt, at least a little, that there was more to his life than hockey. But he’d been pretty stupid to think he was actually on the team — as if he contributed — as if he would ever be more than a hockey player.
CHAPTER 23
Rocket bounced the tennis ball on the blade of his stick. “Hey, Maddy. Did you tell Griffen to meet us behind the building?”
She kicked a few loose rocks on the ground. “Yes, like you ordered. Still not sure why.”
“I wanted to warm up with a few shots,” he said. But the truth was that since Connor and his crew had jumped him, he didn’t like hanging out in front.
Maddy knew him well enough to see through his excuse. Just like he knew her well enough to see that she was seriously mad at him.
He trapped the ball with his foot and balanced the stick on the tip of the blade with his right hand. “Sorry again about Tuesday. Ty and Adam invited me to play soccer and I couldn’t be rude and say no. You know how things have been.”
She twirled her hair in her fingers. “You said that already in your message.”
“That was stupid of me. I should have apologized in person. Sorry.”
“Yeah. You’re busy.”
She looked away.
This felt weird. Maddy was always in a good mood, and she never got mad at him, not really, not for very long. But they hadn’t talked in days, and now it felt different between them. It didn’t make a lot of sense. Sure, he’d ditched her after school, but it was only one time — and it wasn’t like he didn’t have a good reason.
He fired a shot off the wall and trapped it with his stick. Then, on a whim, he reached into his coat pocket and felt around. It was there.
“I was going to save this for an emergency,” he said with a grin. He held out a hard candy in a wrapper. “How about I give this to you and you can pretend you don’t hate me.” He jiggled it in his palm.
Maddy smiled, but not in her usual way. “I don’t want it. Thanks.”
Rocket dropped it back into his pocket. She wasn’t going to make this easy. He figured he’d tell her about his tussle with Kinger. “Did I tell you I got kicked out of intramurals — and off the trivia team?”
She kicked a few more rocks. “I don’t remember.”
“Well, I did. Got into a fight, with this jerk named Kinger, and Mr. Brighton, this uptight gym teacher, kicked me out ’cause I wouldn’t squeal.”
She didn’t react.
“The trivia team didn’t actually kick me off, but the only reason they wanted me on the team was to help them win a floor hockey game. Their team’s called the Organians. Guess what that’s from. You’re going to die when I tell you.”
“Dunno.”
“I’ll give you a clue — it’s from an old TV show.”
“Don’t know.”
“Okay. So guess who the Organians were playing?”
Maddy shrugged.
“Guess.”
“No idea.”
“I’ll give you a clue.”
He kicked his butt with the heel of his shoe.
She stared at him.
This was getting ridiculous. “You’re a ball of fun tonight,” he said. “We don’t hang out one day after school and it’s a crisis.”
Girls could be such a pain.
“Sorry I’m not more excited about spending my night watching you play hockey,” she said.
“Then don’t go.”
“How are you going to get there, genius? Griffen said if he has to go, so do I.”
Rocket blasted another shot at the wall. If only his mom had a car. Then they wouldn’t have to be nice to Griffen. Lately, he was always calling her and asking her to go for a drink.
Maddy turned her back on him.
Rocket kept shooting, harder and harder. With every shot, he got angrier at her and Griffen, and even his mom. The ball bounced off the wall and Rocket swung at it with his stick. It hit the heel and skidded under the garbage bin to the right.
“Perfect,” he muttered. The bin always stunk. He dropped to a knee and looked under. The smell almost made him gag. The ball was stuck under the back corner. He slid into the crack between the building and the bin and reached under with his stick. The ball rolled out.
“I’ll mess that punk up big time if I see him.”
Rocket froze. That was Connor.
“He’s a total loser. You’ll waste him,” Raja said.
Rocket closed his eyes tight. He couldn’t leave Maddy to face them alone.
He opened his eyes and began to shuffle out from behind the bin, desperate to think of what he could say to sound tough.
Maddy slipped in next to him and put her finger to her lips. They both remained perfectly still.
“Hey, that hockey dude lives here,” Connor said.
“You mean the squirt with the shoulder pads?” Raja said. “That was out front.”
“Duh! I mean it was this building,” Connor said.
“Yeah, yeah, I know: in front,” Raja said.
Rocket heard the sound of a bouncing tennis ball.
Let them take his stupid tennis ball and go.
“Nice catch, klutz,” Connor said.
“Throw it near me next time,” Raja said.
“You mean right into your hands again?” Connor began laughing. “You’re such a total moron. You couldn’t catch a beach ball.”
“You whipped it at me. You’re the moron.”
“Anyone want this Coke?” a girl yelled.
Rocket figured that was Tina, the girl who used to be Maddy’s friend.
“Pour it on Raja’s hands. Maybe he’ll catch the ball, if it sticks to him,” Connor said.
“Pour it into Connor’s brain and maybe he won’t be so stupid,” Raja said.
“That doesn’t even make sense,” Connor said. “You really are a moron.”
“Forget you,” Raja said.
“Give me the Coke,” Connor said.
Rocket strained to hear what was going on. He thought he heard someone walking away. He and Maddy exchanged glances. Her face was white as a sheet.
Something smashed over their heads, and he and Maddy ducked.
“Why’d you toss my Coke?” Tina said.
“I was finished.” Connor’s laugh sounded like a machine gun. It faded as he walked away.
Rocket waited until he couldn’t hear their voices, and then he pulled on Maddy’s shoulder. They shuffled out from behind the bin.
“My life sucks so bad it’s ridiculous,” Rocket fumed, wiping the Coke from his jacket and pants. Connor had thrown the open Coke at the bin and missed, and it had sprayed all over him. “I’m supposed to show up in the dressi
ng room wearing a can of Coke? Great. That guy’s such a loser he can’t even hit a huge open bin from five metres away.” He threw his hands up in the air. “Look at me. I’m covered in it.”
“I kind of got hit, too,” Maddy said.
“But I got a game.”
“Poor Rocket — always poor Rocket.”
“What’s your problem? I said I was sorry about Tuesday and you’re still freaking out about it days later. I’ve got enough to deal with. I got bounced from the Huskies, I’m playing on the worst team in AA, I’ve been banned from intramurals, and I was so desperate to do something at lunch that I joined the stupid trivia team, but they don’t want me either. Now I’m head-to-toe in Coke …”
Maddy was crying.
His anger melted away. He’d never seen her cry before. “Hey, Mads. I’m just whining. Don’t take me seriously. It’s not that bad, I guess.”
“You live in such a bubble world it’s unbelievable!” Maddy yelled. “I have to live with an idiot who does nothing but yell at me and boss me around. I have to be in my room by ten, I’m not allowed to watch TV, and he’s always telling me I’m stupid, that I’m a pain and that I’m not grateful enough to him for taking care of me …” She was sobbing. “Why did my mom run away and leave me? I mean, she ran away and left me here, with him! I kept thinking she’d come back, but it’s been a year! She’s such a …”
She stopped and tried to catch her breath. “I have no one to take care of me, and poor Rocket complains about playing floor hockey with the Organians. You’re at some fancy school — and so what if your team’s no good? I don’t play on any teams. I don’t do anything except deliver papers to give Griffen money. And the highlight of my day? Seeing the great Bryan ‘the Rocket’ Rockwood play hockey. And I get to do it covered in Coke — thrown by thugs who go to my crappy school. On my lunchtime, I have to worry about getting beat up. So what are you worried about again? The trivia team?”
Rocket was stunned. Maddy usually acted like the happiest kid in the world. He hadn’t known things were that bad. Or maybe he hadn’t really thought about it.
“I didn’t know … things were like that. Or maybe I knew stuff was going on, but I didn’t …” He stopped to think. He wasn’t being honest. He’d assumed everything was okay because she never complained. Not like him; he complained about everything. “I’ve been a bad friend, haven’t I?” he said softly. “I’ve been obsessed with the Huskies and hockey — and myself, of course. Like … there’s Coke on you and … I’m sorry, Mads.”