Face-Off

by Michael Betcherman

  “You’re sure you’re feeling all right?” Anna asked Stefan. He was sitting beside her in the front seat. “No more double vision?”

  “I’m fine,” Stefan said.

  “Why are your eyes closed?”

  “I’m just trying to focus on the game and forget about everything else,” Stefan said.

  Alex knew that couldn’t be easy. Maybe Anna felt as though things were getting back to normal, but it sure didn’t feel like it to him. Their lawyer had kept the news organizations at a distance, but the phone had rung off the hook with calls from people none of them had seen in years. Things had gotten so out of hand that everybody moved into a hotel under assumed names. School had been a zoo, as well. Even though all the details had been in the paper and on TV, everybody, even the teachers, wanted to get the story first-hand. Alex, Stefan, and Lara couldn’t walk down the hallway without getting swarmed.

  No, Alex thought, things aren’t quite back to normal.

  “I’ll meet you right here after the game,” Anna said as she pulled up in front of the entrance to the arena, “and then we’ll go get Boris.” Boris hadn’t been able to fly out of Maldania until today due to a snowstorm that had shut down the airport in Grabel. Anna was on her way to the store in Abbotsford. The pipes had burst early that morning and she had to meet the insurance adjustor.

  Alex and Stefan got out of the car. West Van was playing the first game of the tournament, and they had arrived a half hour before McAndrew had told the team to report, so the arena was quiet when they walked inside.

  Alex hadn’t given much thought to hockey in the three weeks since the season ended. There had been other things on his mind: the magical trip to Europe with Lara and then the incredible adventure that culminated in the capture of the Stork and the Snowman. But he started thinking about it as soon as he and Stefan stepped into the empty West Van locker room.

  He wondered if he would ever play competitive hockey again. He was going to the University of British Columbia next year and he would try out for the team, but his odds of making it weren’t good. The Thunderbirds weren’t losing many players, and the recruits who had received scholarships had the inside track on the few positions that were available.

  He thought of all the locker rooms he’d walked into over the years; he remembered the pre-game rush of anticipation mixed with fear and excitement, the feeling of being a warrior, of knowing that he would soon be put to the test. It saddened him to think that he might never experience that again. He thought about the disappointing way the season had ended after it had started with such high hopes. If his career was over, so be it, but he wished it hadn’t ended like that, without having had the chance to put himself to the test one final time. He would have given anything for the opportunity to strap his pads on one more time, for the chance to scratch that itch and prove he still had it, even if it was only to himself.

  Stefan tossed his hockey bag on the floor and sat down on a chair. He sighed heavily and put his head in his hands.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Not really.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m seeing double.”

  “What? You said you were fine.”

  “It started again this morning. I was hoping it would go away.”

  “You have to tell McAndrew you can’t play.”

  “We can’t win with Dempster in goal. He sucks.” Jack Dempster was the West Van backup goalie.

  “Doesn’t matter. You can’t play if you’re seeing double. You could get hurt.”

  “I know that.”

  “So there’s no problem.”

  “No problem? It’s the provincial championships.”

  “I know,” Alex said, “but there’s nothing you can do about it.”

  “You play for me.”

  “What?” Alex stared at his brother in disbelief.

  “You play for me. You pretend you’re me.”

  “Are you crazy?”

  “Nobody will find out. It’s just for one game. I’ll be okay tomorrow.”

  “You’re crazy.” The idea was completely insane. He hadn’t played in a real game in three months. And now his brother wanted him to play in the provincials. It was a ridiculous idea. Completely ridiculous. And all Alex could think about was how much he wanted to do it.

  “Come on,” Stefan said, reading his mind. “You know you want to.”

  “We’ll never get away with it.”

  “Sure we will.”

  “This is insane,” Alex said. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Does it matter?” He gave Alex a challenging look.

  Alex met his brother’s gaze. Then he unzipped Stefan’s hockey bag and took out his long underwear. “I hope you washed this stuff,” he said.

  Stefan took off the jacket and tie McAndrew had ordered the players to wear, put on Alex’s street clothes, and walked out of the locker room.

  A few minutes later, the West Van players started arriving.

  “Hey, Stefan. How you feeling?”

  Alex gave a thumbs-up.

  “S’up Stefan? You good to go?”

  Another thumbs-up.

  Alex realized he didn’t have to worry that his new teammates would find out he was an impostor. They expected to see Stefan in a Lightning jersey and that’s what they saw. Fears that he would be outed were soon replaced by the usual pre-game jitters.

  He put on his gear. Jock, underwear, pants, left skate, right skate, left pad, right pad, chest protector. And finally the West Vancouver jersey with number 33 on the back. Alex caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. It felt weird to be wearing the jersey of the Cougars’ longtime rival.

  Everybody was dressed when Coach McAndrew arrived. He looked around the room, making eye contact with everyone. Alex met his gaze. There wasn’t a glimmer of doubt about who he was in the coach’s eyes.

  “All right, boys,” he said. “This is it. You know what to do. Now go out there and do it.”

  It might have been the shortest pep talk in history.

  The players gathered in the middle of the room around the coach. “One. Two. Three,” they all shouted. At the last second Alex remembered to shout “Lightning” and not “Cougars.”

  The reality of the situation hit him as soon as he stepped out onto the ice. Who did he think he was, trying to take Stefan’s place? His brother was one of the top ten high school goalies in North America. He was the backup goalie for a rep team.

  By the time he skated down to the Lightning goal and put on his Lou Roberts mask he knew the game was going to be a disaster. He should never have agreed to do it. The first warm-up shot from one of his teammates went right through his legs. So did the second. He bent down to adjust one of his pads. Get it together, he told himself. He waited for the Voice to tell him he was making the biggest mistake of his life, but the Voice was strangely silent, at least the one he was used to hearing. You can do it, man. You don’t have to be Stefan. You just have to be yourself.

  Alex took a deep breath. He stood up and tapped his pads with his stick to let his teammates know he was ready. Stick on the ice. Square up to the shooter. Stand your ground. He turned the shot away. Stick on the ice. Square up to the shooter. Stand your ground. He blocked the next shot. And the one after that. By the time the referee blew his whistle to start the game, Alex felt pretty calm. But he knew he wouldn’t relax completely until he faced his first shot.

  He didn’t have to wait long.

  Prince Rupert controlled the opening face-off and dumped the puck into the corner to the left of the goal. The West Van defenceman chased after it, closely followed by the Commodores’ left-winger.

  “Man on, man on,” Alex yelled to let his teammate know he didn’t have much time, using what he hoped would pass for a Berovian accent. The accent worked but the warning didn’t help. The Prince Rupert player bounced the Lightning’s defenceman off the puck and slapped it along the boards to his centreman, who made a perfect pass to a teamma
te moving into the slot. He whipped a shot that was headed for the upper shelf but Alex snaked out his glove and made the save.

  “Way to go, Stefan,” his teammates yelled.

  Prince Rupert kept up the pressure for the next few minutes but Alex was steady as a rock, giving the West Van offence time to find its stride. The match turned into a see-saw affair, the momentum shifting from one team to the other and back again. Alex and his Prince Rupert counterpart were tested time and time again.

  West Van opened the scoring early in the second period but the Commodores came back with the equalizer a few minutes later, a screened shot Alex had no chance to stop. At the end of the period the score was tied 1–1.

  Alex went into the locker room and collapsed on his chair. He was dog-tired. The three weeks of inactivity were taking a toll. The intermission seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. It took all his strength just to get back on his feet when it was time to go out on the ice again.

  “Keep it up, big guy. We’ll get one for you,” one of his teammates said as they left the locker room to begin the third period.

  The Lightning did just that. Four minutes into the period they scored the go-ahead goal. Prince Rupert responded to the challenge and turned up the pressure. Over and over again they swept in on goal, and each time Alex turned them away. He was in the zone. It felt like the game was being played in slow motion.

  The 2–1 lead held up. When the game ended, the West Van players spilled over the bench and skated down to the goal to congratulate him. The crowd was on its feet, cheering. When Alex reached the West Van bench, he stopped and looked into the stands, searching for his brother.

  Stefan was on his feet, pumping his fist in the air. Lara was standing beside him, waving furiously, a huge smile on her face. Alex saluted them with his mask and then stepped off the ice.

  Coach McAndrew didn’t give his players much time to celebrate. “Nice win, gentlemen, but we’ve still got a lot of work ahead of us. We play the winner of Kamloops– Coquitlam tomorrow at noon so I want everybody to go home, get some rest, have a good breakfast tomorrow, and show up ready to play.”

  Alex sat in his uniform for fifteen minutes before he had the strength to take it off. It wasn’t a problem continuing the pretense that he was Stefan. His teammates didn’t bat an eye at his one-syllable responses when they congratulated him on his amazing performance. They could see that he was completely spent.

  Alex texted Stefan after he showered, as arranged, and then put on his jacket and tie and headed for the washroom. A minute later Stefan walked into the locker room.

  “Hey, Alex,” said the few West Van players who hadn’t yet left.

  Stefan nodded.

  “Your brother was awesome, man.”

  Stefan nodded again. He went into the washroom and entered the stall next to the one Alex was in. They switched clothes and then returned to the locker room.

  “See you guys tomorrow,” Stefan said, picking up his hockey bag.

  “Later.”

  Lara was waiting outside the locker room. So were Roman and his wife, Sophia.

  “Great game,” Roman said to Stefan. “You were magnificent.”

  “Fantastic,” Sophia said.

  “Thanks.”

  “I’m so glad you’re feeling better,” Roman said to Stefan.

  “You don’t know how upset he’s been at what happened,” Sophia said.

  “Everything worked out, so it’s all good,” Stefan said.

  Lara went up to Alex and gave him a big hug. “You were incredible,” she whispered. “I’m so proud of you.”

  “Young love,” Roman said to Sophia. “Can’t stand to be apart for more than five minutes. Remember when we were like that?”

  “No,” she said with a smile. She gave Roman a kiss on the cheek. “Roman told me about what you’re planning to do with the reward,” she said. “I think that’s wonderful. Simply wonderful.”

  Alex, Stefan, and Lara had decided to donate the $500,000 reward to a charitable organization that supported child victims of war.

  “We gotta get going,” Roman said. “Good luck tomorrow,” he said to Stefan.

  “Call me later,” Lara said to Alex.

  “Okay.”

  She gave him another hug before leaving with Roman and Sophia.

  Stefan grabbed the hockey bag. He and Alex headed for the exit. Bill Henry was standing in the hallway, talking to a scout from the University of North Dakota. He walked up to them.

  “Hey, guys,” he said.

  “Hey.”

  “Heck of a game,” he said to Stefan. “Best performance I’ve seen in a long time. If I didn’t know any better, I’d have thought it was Lou Roberts behind that mask.”

  “Thanks.”

  “If they don’t treat you right in Denver, give us a call.”

  “Too bad he doesn’t know who was behind the mask,” Stefan said after Bill Henry rejoined his friend. He didn’t have to finish the thought. Alex knew what his brother was thinking. He was thinking the same thing. If Bill Henry knew he had been in goal, Alex just might have gotten that scholarship to the University of Minnesota after all.

  “Looks like you got it back,” Stefan said.

  “Got what back?”

  “Your mojo.”

  “Looks like I did.”

  It was funny, Alex thought. It was one of the best games he’d ever played. And, except for him, Stefan, and Lara, nobody else in the world would ever know about it. The crazy thing was that he didn’t really care.

  Anna was waiting outside the arena. “Congratulations,” Anna said to Stefan. “I heard you were fantastic.” She looked to Alex for confirmation.

  “He was incredible.”

  “And you’re still feeling all right?” Anna asked Stefan anxiously.

  “One hundred percent,” Stefan said.

  “Who wants to drive?” Anna asked.

  “I do,” Stefan said before Alex could speak up.

  Anna tossed the keys to him. Fired them would be a better description. An overhead toss from a few feet away. Stefan snaked a hand out and snagged the keys as easily as if she’d handed them to him.

  An amazing catch for someone with double vision, Alex thought. Impossible, in fact. “Nice catch,” he said.

  Stefan gave him a wink and then walked to the driver’s door.

  “You must be proud of your brother,” Anna said.

  Alex met his brother’s eyes over the roof of the car. “He’s the greatest.”

  Anna beamed. She ruffled Alex’s hair in appreciation of his expression of brotherly love. “Why is your hair wet?” she asked.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I would like to thank my wife, Claudette Jaiko, my daughter, Laura, and my mother, Lita-Rose, for their encouragement and support during the writing of this book. I would also like to thank Gordon Betcherman, Monique Marchildon, David Diamond, and Jake Onrot for reading the manuscript and providing invaluable feedback. Thanks also to my nephews, Nicolas and Zacharie, who gave me the inside scoop on minor hockey, and to Ben Gross, John Wilkie, and Jim Marinow for their assistance during the research of the book.

  I would also like to thank my wonderful agent, Patricia Ocampo, at Transatlantic Agency. And very special thanks go to my editor, Lynne Missen, for her patience and insight, and to the rest of the team at Penguin Canada.

  RAZORBILL

  an imprint of Penguin Canada Books Inc., a Penguin Random House Company

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Canada Books Inc.

  90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario, Canada M4P 2Y3

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, U.S.A.

  Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  Penguin Ireland, 25 St Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd)

  Penguin Group (Australia), 707 Collins Street, Melbourne, Victoria 3008, Australia

  (a div
ision of Pearson Australia Group Pty Ltd)

  Penguin Books India Pvt Ltd, 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park,

  New Delhi – 110 017, India

  Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale, Auckland 0632, New Zealand

  (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd)

  Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty) Ltd, 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank,

  Johannesburg 2196, South Africa

  Penguin Books Ltd, Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  First published 2014

  1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 (WEB)

  Copyright © Michael Betcherman, 2014

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  Publisher’s note: This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Manufactured in Canada.

  LIBRARY AND ARCHIVES CANADA CATALOGUING IN PUBLICATION

  Betcherman, Michael, author

  Face-off/Michael Betcherman.

  ISBN 978-0-14-318216-0 (pbk.)

  I. Title.

  PS8603.E82F32 2014 jC813’.6 C2013-907726-X

  Visit the Penguin Canada website at www.penguin.ca

  Special and corporate bulk purchase rates available; please see

  www.penguin.ca/corporatesales or call 1-800-810-3104, ext. 2477.