A fat man with long black hair and a goatee sat by himself in the corner. The pitcher of beer on the table was nearly empty. He looked vaguely familiar but Alex couldn’t place him. The waitress arrived with a portable credit machine. The man punched a few buttons and handed it back to her. He poured the rest of the beer into his glass and downed it in a single gulp.
Stefan’s phone buzzed with a text message. He smiled as he read it.
“Emma?” Anna asked. Stefan nodded and texted a reply.
“Who else?” Alex said. Stefan and Emma texted each other a hundred times a day.
“She can meet us for lunch tomorrow,” Stefan said to Boris.
“Great,” said Boris. “I’m looking forward to meeting her.”
“She’s lovely,” Anna said.
By now Lara was on her way to Mexico, Alex thought. He had no idea what he was going to say to her when she got back. And he had no idea how she’d respond. The one thing he did know was that it would be impossible to go on pretending that nothing had changed.
Just then his cellphone beeped. It was a text—from Stefan. Don’t worry, she’s into you.
Alex looked up. His brother winked at him. “I always knew it was just a matter of time before you two got together,” he’d said earlier, when Alex told him that Lara and Jason had broken up. “You’ve got a vivid imagination,” Alex had answered.
The fat man with the goatee got to his feet and walked toward the front door. He was unsteady on his feet. Where have I seen him before? Alex asked himself.
“Karl,” Boris called out as the man walked by their table. The man stopped and looked at Boris blankly for a few seconds until he recognized him.
“Boris,” he said, breaking into a smile. “Mato le ti?” How are you?
Boris stood up and they shook hands. “This is Karl Chillich,” he said, introducing him to Anna, Stefan, and Alex. Alex noticed that Karl had one brown eye and one green eye—just like Lou Roberts—and realized he’d seen him at the airport after the first tour to Berovia and Maldania.
“This is Anna, Alex, and Stefan,” Boris said, identifying them only by name. It would be way too complicated to identify them by relationship. This is my son, Stefan; his mother, Anna; and her son, Alex. It looked like Karl was having enough trouble as it was.
“Karl was on the first tour,” Boris said.
“Best tour ever,” Karl said, slurring the words.
“Even if we did get a little more excitement than we bargained for on the way home,” Boris said with a laugh.
Karl gave Boris a puzzled look.
“The bomb threat at the airport,” Boris explained.
A confused look momentarily crossed Karl’s face. “Of course,” he said with a laugh to cover up his embarrassment. “I guess I’ve had a little too much to drink.” You think? Alex said to himself. “Enjoy your meal,” Karl said. “Merry Christmas,” he added, before waddling away.
“I hope he’s not driving,” Anna said.
“I’ll go check,” said Boris. He followed Karl out of the restaurant. He came back a few minutes later. “I persuaded him to take a cab.”
“He was actually planning to drive?” Anna asked in astonishment.
“He said he only lives a few minutes away.”
Anna shook her head in disgust. “I hope you two know not to get in a car with someone who’s been drinking,” she said to Alex and Stefan.
They rolled their eyes at each other. “Yes, Mom,” they both said with exaggerated patience.
“I don’t care where you are. Call me and if I can’t come get you, I’ll pay for a taxi.”
“Is the next tour fully booked?” Anna asked Boris after they placed their dessert orders. Boris and Roman’s second tour was scheduled for mid-January.
“It is. And we have a bunch of people on the waiting list so we’re going to do a third tour during March break. Roman and I thought you guys might want to come on it,” Boris said to Alex and Stefan.
“That would be fantastic, wouldn’t it, boys?” Anna said.
“I’d love to go,” Alex said, “but the provincial championships are being held the weekend after March break and we’ll be practising every day.”
“I was just going to say the same thing,” Stefan said.
“I guess you aren’t aware that only one team from our league gets to go. The one that wins the league championship.”
“I know that,” Stefan said, “and you’re going to have a great time in Berovia and Maldania.”
“Lara’s invited too,” Boris said.
Maybe it won’t be such a bad thing if West Van wins the championship, Alex couldn’t help thinking. Now who’s the one with the vivid imagination? he asked himself. Stefan winked at him again, as if he’d read his mind.
“Are you guys going to play against each other in the Hollyburn tournament?” Boris asked.
“Only if we both make the finals.” Alex explained that Richmond and West Van were on opposite sides of the draw. Each team would have to win their first two games in order for them to meet in the final. “And that’s not going to be easy,” he added.
“Maybe not,” Boris said, “but I have a feeling that’s exactly what’s going to happen.”
The waitress came to the table. “We only have one slice of lemon meringue left,” the waitress said.
“You can give it to my baby brother,” Stefan said.
TWENTY-NINE
Boris’s prediction turned out to be accurate. Richmond and West Van each won their first two games of the tournament, and the two teams were facing each other in the championship final.
The drive to Hollyburn’s arena took place in silence. Anna and Boris were up front. Alex and Stefan sat in the back. Stefan was leaning back against the seat, his eyes closed, cool as a cucumber. With the chemistry monkey off his back, he’d brought his A game to the tournament, just as Alex had anticipated.
Alex had never been so nervous before a game in his entire life, and that was saying something. He had played well in the first two rounds, every bit as well as Stefan, but he’d need to keep it up in the championship final if he was going to impress the scouts. It’s only a game, he told himself in a futile effort to calm his jittery nerves. It wasn’t as if his life was at stake. No, the Voice agreed, just your chance for a college scholarship.
Anna dropped Alex and Stefan off near the entrance to the arena. “We’ll see you after the game,” Anna said.
“Good luck,” Boris said.
Alex and Stefan walked into the arena together. Bill Henry was standing at the concession stand, talking to a man in a University of Washington jacket. The butterflies in Alex’s stomach went into overdrive.
Richmond came out firing on all cylinders, taking the game to West Van from the get-go. The Cougars peppered Stefan with shots from all angles but they couldn’t put the puck past him. If you didn’t know better, you could have been excused for thinking it was Lou Roberts behind the white mask. Did you see that? the Voice marvelled after Stefan dove across the crease to rob Bill Kelly of a certain goal. Even Lou couldn’t have made that save. The scouts must be drooling. Alex’s nerves tightened another notch with every miraculous save. He could feel his confidence sagging. He knew he couldn’t possibly match his brother’s performance.
The game was four minutes old before he faced his first shot. West Van’s left-winger carried the puck over centre ice and flicked a high lazy shot toward him before heading to the bench for a line change.
The shot was as easy as they come but it caught Alex napping. He stayed in his crease, realizing too late that he should have come out of the net to catch the puck while it was still in the air. It landed a few feet in front of him, took a crazy bounce, skipped past him, and before he could react, it was in the goal.
Alex stared at the puck in disbelief. He hadn’t misplayed a shot like that since he was an Atom. Biggest game of your life, and you let in a goal like that, the Voice said in disgust as Alex angrily swept the puck
out of the goal.
Alex took a sip of water, skated to the corner of the rink, and then got back in position. He remembered what his first coach had told him. “A good goalie needs a bad memory.” It meant that you had to forget about a mistake as soon as you made it. If your mind stayed in the past, you couldn’t be ready for the present.
Doug Harvey skated up to him. “Shake it off, big guy,” he said. “We’ll get it back.”
But the Cougars couldn’t get it back. And Alex couldn’t shake it off.
Three minutes later he paid the price for his lack of focus, letting in another goal when he failed to hug the post on a routine shot from the wing.
Two minutes before the first period ended, Alex was slow to get to his feet after making a save, leading to another West Van goal that gave the Lightning a 3–0 lead at the first intermission.
Coach Hampton stopped Alex on his way to the locker room. “It’s not your day, Alex. I’m going to put Earl in,” he said bluntly.
The rest of the game passed in a blur. Alex sat on the bench, numb, barely registering the action on the ice. He’d never been pulled from a game before, let alone a game that meant this much. He felt humiliated, as if he were sitting there naked with everybody in the arena staring at him. He wished the ground would open up and swallow him live.
Earl Bales played well, giving up only one goal in the last two periods, but getting the puck past Stefan was a puzzle Richmond couldn’t solve. West Van ended up winning by a score of 4–0.
Alex stood by the boards with his teammates as the championship trophy was presented to West Van and the tournament all-stars were announced. He applauded when Stefan received the tournament most valuable player award, but inside he felt the jealousy rise up like a tidal wave. He wished the clock could be turned back to the start of the game so he could have another chance. But he knew he’d had his chance. And you blew it, dude, the Voice said. You choked in the biggest game of your life.
His teammates went out of their way to reassure him in the locker room.
“Everybody has a bad game, big guy.”
“This doesn’t count in the league standings. We’re still in first place.”
“No worries, dude. We’ll get them next time, when it counts.”
The kind words didn’t make him feel any better.
At least it can’t get any worse, he told himself when he finally managed to drag himself out of the locker room. Then he looked across the hallway … and saw Stefan deep in conversation with Bill Henry.
THIRTY
Coach Hampton called Alex into his office before practice two days after the loss to West Van.
“How are you doing?” he asked. Alex shrugged, averting the coach’s gaze. He knew what was coming. It had kept him awake all night. He was about to lose his starting position. Hampton would be decent about it, but no amount of sugarcoating was going to make this pill any easier to swallow.
“You had a bad game,” the coach said. “There’s no getting away from it.” He waited until Alex looked up at him. “I don’t know who was wearing your uniform, but it wasn’t the guy who’s led this team all year, the guy I’m counting on to do the job against Hollyburn on Thursday.” Alex looked at the coach in surprise. “You’re still my starting goalie, son. Even Lou Roberts has a bad game once in a while. And he always bounces back with a great game.” Too bad you’re not Lou Roberts, the Voice said.
They talked for a while after that but everything the coach said boiled down to the same thing Alex’s first coach told him: “A good goalie needs a bad memory.”
It was good advice, but no matter how hard he tried, Alex couldn’t follow it. His memory was just too damn good. The next two weeks were the most miserable two weeks of his life.
Three days after Coach Hampton’s pep talk, Alex stumbled through a subpar performance against Hollyburn, letting in three goals he should have stopped in a 4–3 loss. It was the team’s first defeat in the regular season.
He followed that up the next week with a horrendous outing against Aldershot. Only a last-minute goal by Kenny Nelson allowed Richmond to escape with a 5–5 tie and avoid a second consecutive loss.
Then, two days after that, the bottom fell out with an abysmal performance in a 4–2 loss to the cellar-dwelling Chilliwack Condors.
Alex was playing as if it was the first time he’d ever strapped on a pair of pads, so he wasn’t surprised when Hampton called him into his office before the game against West Van and told him that Earl Bales was getting the starting nod.
“I don’t like doing this, Alex, but I don’t have a choice,” the coach said sympathetically. Alex nodded. If he was a position player, the coach might have been willing to stick with him. But when a goalie played badly, it could affect the rest of the team and that’s exactly what had happened. His teammates had lost confidence in him. In the past they knew they could count on Alex to bail them out if they made a mistake. Now they were playing tentatively, afraid that a mistake would lead to an opponent’s goal.
“I know you’re disappointed,” Hampton continued. Alex nodded again but in fact he was relieved. He’d been dreading the rematch against his brother all day. He would never have imagined that one day he would prefer to sit on the bench rather than play, but that day had come.
“I don’t know how Earl’s going to handle the pressure,” the coach continued, “so you need to keep your head in the game and be ready if I call on you.” Alex nodded again, but he hoped it wouldn’t come to that. Amen, the Voice said.
Alex’s wish was granted. Earl Bales was solid from the opening face-off. Richmond started out playing cautious hockey, but the rookie made three great saves in the early going that restored the Cougars’ confidence. They went on the offensive and didn’t let up for the entire game.
Stefan was his usual magnificent self, but his West Van teammates were completely outplayed by a rejuvenated Richmond squad who cruised to a convincing 3–1 victory.
The entire team piled out onto the ice after the game was over to congratulate Earl and the celebration continued in the locker room. The gloom that had descended on the team since the Hollyburn tournament flowed out of the room; the belief that they were a championship-calibre team flooded back in.
“Great game, Earl,” Alex said.
“Thanks,” Earl said. He looked Alex in the eye to let him know that he understood how Alex was feeling. Alex nodded but he knew Earl didn’t have a clue how he felt. Earl thought that he was disappointed about losing his starting position and that he had been hoping Earl would play poorly so that Hampton would put him back between the pipes. That’s how most people in his position would feel. But that wasn’t the situation. To the contrary. Alex had been praying that Earl would play well so that he could stay on the bench where he would be safe, where he wouldn’t have to suffer another public humiliation.
He’d lost his mojo and he didn’t know if he was ever going to get it back.
Want me to wait for you? Stefan texted as Alex watched his teammates celebrate the victory.
Go ahead. I’ll see you at home, Alex texted back.
You okay?
I’m good.
Lara was waiting in the corridor when Alex finally emerged from the locker room.
“How are you doing?” she asked sympathetically. Alex shrugged. “Do you want to get a coffee or something?”
“I can’t,” he lied. “I have too much homework to do.” You mean you’d rather go home and feel sorry for yourself, the Voice said.
“It’s Friday night,” Lara pointed out. “You have all weekend to do your homework.”
“I’m way behind,” he said. The words were out of his mouth before he realized how lame they were. School had only started two weeks ago. He couldn’t possibly be that far behind. “I’ll see you at work tomorrow.”
“Suit yourself,” she said, not bothering to call him on his obvious lie, or to hide the fact that she was pissed off. Lara had been trying to get him to open up ever si
nce she got back from Mexico, the day after his disaster in the Hollyburn tournament, but he had shut her out. He couldn’t bear to talk about what happened. And as to his resolution to tell her how he felt about her, there was no way he was up to that. He wasn’t sure he had any feelings for her. Or for anybody else. He was too busy feeling sorry for himself.
He watched Lara as she walked away. He wished she’d turn around and come back, but he knew she wouldn’t. And he didn’t have it in him to go after her.
Alex lay in bed that night, unable to fall asleep. How could things have fallen apart so quickly? he asked himself. He’d been having the best season of his career. But he knew the reason: a case of sibling rivalry that turned into a train wreck. He had never come to terms with the fact that Stefan was a better goalie than he was. It was like a sore he kept scratching but never allowed to heal. His brother’s heroics at the start of the tournament final, with all those scouts in attendance, tore off the scab and while Alex was watching it bleed, he let in that ridiculous first goal. From then on it was game over.
He got out of bed and started playing his hockey video game to get his mind off his troubles. He played for a couple of hours until he could barely keep his eyes open. As he logged off, he noticed that he’d received a Twitter alert from the War Crimes Tribunal. He clicked on the link. One glance at the headline and his eyes were wide open.
ZARKOV ESCAPES: ACCUSED WAR CRIMINAL INJURED IN GOVERNMENT RAID.
“The Berovian government announced today that accused war criminal General Anton ‘the Stork’ Zarkov escaped capture during a raid on his mountain hideout by Berovian soldiers.
“Just before dawn a crack unit of Berovian soldiers moved in on a farmhouse near the remote mountain village of Sotram where General Zarkov was reportedly hiding. They engaged the general’s heavily armed supporters in a firefight that lasted for several hours. By the time government forces prevailed, General Zarkov had fled. The accused war criminal was reportedly shot during the battle but the extent of his injuries is unknown.
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