Jeff sat on the bed and read it.
Dear Jeff,
Thank you for your letter telling me how much you enjoy watching me play my favorite game — hockey. It makes it all the more exciting for me knowing that there are fans like you out there rooting for me and my team. I hope I’ll live up to your expectations this season and not do anything to let you down.
Being a good hockey player takes a lot of practice. Since you say that you might want to be a professional hockey player, too, let me give you a little hint. It’s not just how well you skate and handle a stick. No, you have to be a smart player, too, to get ahead in this game. That means you need a good education. That’s the best way to train your mind to learn everything you have to know as a pro.
So work hard out there on the ice, but work just as hard in the classroom. Remember: keep your grades up and your stick down!
All the best,
Eric Stone
As Jeff read through the letter, he felt his excitement drain away. “Keep your grades up!” “Train your mind!” It was as if Eric Stone knew Jeff had had trouble in school before.
Then he began to wonder: had there been some mistakes in the letter he’d written to Eric? Maybe a misspelled word or a grammar problem? It hadn’t been a very long letter but, still, he knew it was likely it had been riddled with “sentence faults” and “paragraph faults,” as his teacher called them.
Why didn’t I ask Candy to look over the letter before I sent it? He groaned inwardly. But he knew why. He would have felt like a little kid just learning to write. He hated feeling stupid.
Jeff took one last look at Eric Stone’s letter, then crumpled it slowly in his hand. A quick toss and it was headed for the wastebasket— just as Candy walked into the room. The letter bounced off her knee and to the floor.
“Whoa, I’m unarmed!” Candy joked. She scooped up the wad and was about to toss it back at him. Then she stopped and smoothed out the paper. “Isn’t this the NHL emblem? Are they writing to you to say you’ve been selected as the number one draft pick?”
“Very funny,” said Jeff, trying to act as though it were nothing. “Here, give it to me.”
But Candy was already reading the letter. Jeff turned his back on her and picked up one of his schoolbooks.
After a moment, Candy said, “I don’t get it. Eric Stone is your big hero, isn’t he? So how come you’re throwing away a letter from him? That’s better than an autograph on a program, even.”
Jeff spun around and replied, “Yeah, you’re right. I wasn’t thinking. Maybe I will keep it after all.”
Candy held it out to him but before she let go, she asked quietly, “Are you upset about what he said about the importance of doing well in school?”
Jeff snatched the paper out of her hand and stalked over to the desk, not answering her question.
“Because if you are, I’m sure you could do better with a little extra help. Mom and Dad said they’d get you a student tutor if—”
“I don’t need a tutor! I’m not stupid!” Jeff said angrily. “I just need a little peace and quiet so I can get to work on my composition. It’s due tomorrow and I don’t want to spend all night on it.” He tore a fresh sheet of paper out of his three-ring binder and sat at his desk.
“I didn’t say you were stupid,” Candy said as she left the room. “At least, I don’t think you’re stupid in the way you think I mean.” She slammed the door behind her.
Jeff stared at the photo of Eric Stone for a few minutes. Then, with a sigh, he turned the picture over, picked up his pencil, and tired to remember everything the teacher had told the class about writing a composition.
The clock on his wall ticked loudly. Downstairs, he heard his mother come in the back door. A truck drove by the window. Eventually, he heard his father’s car turn into the driveway. Soon it would be time for dinner.
The paper was still blank when he pushed himself back from the desk and headed downstairs.
Oh, well, he thought. I’ll give it another try later. After I eat.
6
Is the roster up yet?” Kevin asked breathlessly as he hurried into school Friday morning. Jeff yawned widely before answering. He had stayed up late the night before finishing his composition.
“Not yet,” he replied. The rink was next to the school and he had just had time to stop by on his way to school. But the list hadn’t been tacked to the door. Now they would have to get permission at lunch recess to check again.
Morning classes dragged by. At lunch, Jeff sat with Kevin and a few other hockey players, but he was too nervous to eat more than a sandwich and a banana. He wasn’t the only one. When the bell signaled the half hour of after-lunch free time, everyone at the table jumped up as if he’d been stuck with pins.
“I’ll get the okay from Ms. Collins,” Jeff said as he headed over to the teacher on duty.
Ms. Collins agreed that they could take a quick walk to the rink to see if the roster was up. As he moved to rejoin the others, Jeff heard her call out to him.
“I’ll see you in English class, Jeff. I’m looking forward to reading your composition.”
In the excitement, Jeff had almost forgotten about it. Well, he’d stayed up half the night working on it, so no one could accuse him of not trying. Still, as he gave Ms. Collins a half wave to show he’d heard her, he felt a knot tighten in his stomach.
No time for that now, he thought. He sprinted to catch up with the rest of the boys. Together they hurried to the rink.
The list was there! Jeff pushed his way forward and scanned it for his name. At first he didn’t see it. Then he read through the roster again — and there it was! He let out a sigh of relief.
Kevin, Bucky, and Hayes had all made the squad, too. So had most of the other players from the year before. There were a few new names, too, including two way down at the bottom under the heading of “Alternates.” At the very bottom of the page was a note telling players there would be no practice that day but that they should stop in and get their uniforms.
Jeff ran down the steps and searched for Kevin. He spotted him with Bucky, Hayes, and a fourth fellow he didn’t recognize.
“Hey there, fellow Blades!” he called. Kevin was all smiles as Jeff clapped him on the back.
“Hey yourself,” he replied. “We were just talking about getting in a little weekend practice down at the pond. Interested?”
“Sure, sounds good,” said Jeff. He glanced curiously at the new person.
Kevin introduced the two to each other. “Jeff Connors, this is Sam Metcalf. He just moved here. He’s going to be the team manager!”
Jeff shook Sam’s hand. “That name sounds familiar,” he said.
Sam shrugged. “If you read the local district sports pages, you might have seen it in a few columns about hockey last year. I led my old team in scoring. I had hoped I’d be able to play here, too. But I missed the tryouts for the Blades because we were moving.”
Jeff shook his head sympathetically. “That’s rough,” he said. He was going to ask Sam some more questions but was cut off by the bell.
As the boys headed back to school, they settled on a time to meet for a pick-up game on the pond on Saturday.
“I’ll be there,” Jeff promised. “But now I have to turn in my English composition.” He groaned.
“Something the matter?” Sam asked.
“Jeff has trouble writing,” Hayes cut in before Jeff had a chance to speak.
Sam shot Jeff a sideways glance but didn’t say anything.
Jeff reddened. “Yeah, well, Hayes is so good at it he thinks anyone who doesn’t get all A’s has a problem. He’s lucky.”
Hayes smiled at him and nodded. “You’re right. I am lucky.”
Jeff was the last one to arrive in class. He turned in his composition and began to struggle to keep his mind from wandering. He liked Ms. Collins and really did want to do well in her class. But the afternoon sun was slanting through the tall classroom windows. Jeff found
himself staring at the dust whirling in the sunbeam and daydreaming.
I sure hope it doesn’t snow, he thought. It’ll be easier to play on the pond tomorrow if we don’t have to clear the ice. I wonder if I’ll be able to get the same number on my uniform that I had last year?
At last, the bell rang. As Jeff hurried out of the room, he could feel Ms. Collins’s eyes on his back. But she didn’t call for him to stay.
The final two classes breezed by quickly. Jeff grabbed the books he needed for his weekend homework, threw on his coat, and ran over to the rink. With all the other newly appointed Blades, he stood in line to receive his uniform.
“Welcome back to the team,” Coach Wallace said as he handed him a bright yellow jersey with a 19 on the back. Sam Metcalf noted the number in the book he was holding, then handed the book to Jeff for his signature. As Jeff was signing, Coach Wallace added, “I hope I’ll see that number on the ice the whole season this year, not folded away like last year.”
“Yes, sir!” Jeff answered with an enthusiastic nod. “You can count on it!”
I hope, he added silently. He gathered up his uniform and moved aside for the next in line. I sure do hope so.
7
Saturday dawned bright, crisp, and clear. Jeff jumped out of bed, dressed quickly, and pounded down the stairs to the mudroom. He was throwing equipment into his duffel when Candy wandered in.
“I wondered what that racket was!” she said with a yawn.
Jeff answered, “I’m meeting the guys for a game, but we have to get there early before someone else gets the best spot!”
“Well, eat something first,” his mother called out as he barged into the kitchen. Obediently, he wolfed down a bowl of cereal before heading out the door.
Ten minutes later he met up with the rest of the guys at the pond. It was still early in the day. With a little luck, they’d have a good couple of hours before the pond filled up with skaters. The only damper on his enjoyment was Ranger. Kevin had tied the big dog to a tree, but even so, Jeff was on the ice — and away from the dog — before anyone else.
They all took time to warm up, but before long Bucky called them together to choose teams. There were six boys in all, which meant they could go three-on-three. Bucky selected Hayes and Shep. Jeff, Kevin, and Chad made up the other side.
Since they didn’t have an extra guy to drop the puck for a face-off, they threw fingers to see who would be on offense first. Bucky’s side won. As they skated into position, Jeff, Kevin, and Chad called out for their men.
“I’ve got Shep!” Kevin said. Chad yelled that Hayes was his. That left Bucky for Jeff.
“Remember, no rough stuff!” Kevin reminded them as Bucky’s team started down the ice. “We don’t want any injuries before the season even starts!”
The trick with playing three-on-three without a goalie was to keep the offense from getting a clear shot. Anticipating a pass, stealing the puck off a stick, and crowding your player out of position were the keys to getting the puck headed the other way.
Bucky brought the puck down the ice with control. But Jeff stuck with him, looking for any opportunity to snag the disk away from him. Bucky was forced to make a pass; Hayes missed it completely. With a crow of victory, Chad snapped it up and skated furiously down the ice undefended. He drew up short right in front of the goal and casually slid the puck between the stakes.
“Hayes! Why didn’t you chase him?” Bucky yelled.
Hayes poked his stick at the ice. “I knew I couldn’t catch him,” he said lamely.
Bucky shook his head angrily. “You always have to try. If you give up too easily, the other team will always beat you.”
Though Jeff agreed that Hayes should have tried harder, he didn’t like the way Bucky was talking to his younger brother. He had started to tell Bucky to cool off when Chad skated up with the puck
“Care to try again?” he said with a devilish grin and a wag of his eyebrows. Everyone broke up laughing, even Bucky.
“Be prepared,” was all Bucky said as he took the disk.
Bucky started with the puck again. This time, he skated in long strides to the very edge of the ice, then spun around and passed to the middle, where Shep was waiting. Kevin was caught off guard and couldn’t cover his man. Shep controlled the puck easily and streaked toward the goal. Jeff made a split-second decision. He left Bucky wide open and went after Shep, yelling, “Switch!” to indicate that Kevin should get on Bucky.
But Bucky was too quick. The minute Jeff stopped covering him, he skated furiously toward the goal. Too late, Jeff realized what was about to happen. Shep glanced up, found his teammate, and slapped a pass to him seconds before Jeff reached him. It was pinpoint accurate. All Bucky had to do was deflect the puck into the goal to tie the score.
“That good enough for you?” Bucky challenged Chad with a smile.
Chad shrugged. “If I’d been involved in the play, I’m guessing I’d be taking the puck down the ice solo again. But I’m sure Jeff and Kevin did all they could.” He sighed dramatically while his teammates rolled their eyes.
The two teams traded goals and good-humored jibes for another hour. Only when Bucky criticized Hayes for not playing aggressively enough did the friendly atmosphere dissolve. It was after one such comment that Jeff called for a break.
The hungry boys crowded onto the bench and shared the snacks they’d brought.
“So where do you think Coach will put each of us this year?” Chad asked around a mouthful of crackers.
“I’ll probably be at center again,” Bucky said.
“I’d like to be at wing,” Hayes piped in.
“Ha! If you keep playing the way you’ve been playing today, the only place you’ll be is on the bench!” Bucky snorted.
Jeff couldn’t believe that Bucky had said something so mean to Hayes right in front of them. He half wished Hayes would tell Bucky off, but Hayes was silent. The other boys were suddenly busy with their laces or rummaging in their duffels for more snacks.
Kevin stood up and wiped the crumbs from his coat. “I’m going to let Ranger run around for a while, okay?” he said as he undid the leash.
Before Jeff had a chance to protest, Ranger wriggled free of Kevin’s grasp and bounded over to the bench. He nosed each boy in turn, looking for a treat. They all patted him and pushed him away. When he reached Jeff, Jeff dropped the cookie he was holding as if it had burned his fingers. Ranger snapped it up and gulped it down in one bite.
Licking his chops and panting, he took a hopeful step toward Jeff.
Jeff shrank back into the bench.
“Jeff, what’s wrong? You’re not afraid of the dog, are you?” Chad asked.
Kevin collared Ranger and tugged him away from Jeff.
“’Course I’m not afraid,” Jeff said, embarrassed. “I just didn’t like the smell of his breath, that’s all.”
Chad nodded his head seriously. “Must have been the cookie Shep’s mom made. That was the last thing Ranger ate!”
All the guys laughed, but Jeff caught a look exchanged between Bucky and Hayes. The look seemed to say that neither boy believed it had been bad breath that had made Jeff jump.
8
By the time they had reassembled on the ice, several other skaters had joined them. Mothers with children just trying out skates for the first time, solo skaters doing fancy moves, and another group of hockey players vied for position on the small space.
“Hey, isn’t that Sam Metcalf over there?” said Bucky, pointing to the second hockey group.
Kevin shaded his eyes and nodded. “You wanna see if they’d be up for getting a real game going? Looks like they have about six players, too.”
“Good idea.” Bucky skated off.
While they waited, Shep, Kevin, and Chad passed the puck back and forth. Jeff decided to let Hayes know he didn’t approve of what Bucky had said earlier.
“Hey, Hayes,” he began.
Hayes held up his hand. “Listen, I know what you
’re going to say. But don’t worry about me. Before tryouts began, I asked my brother to keep me on my toes this year. Even though he’s kind of a jerk about it, he’s just trying to help me be a better player.”
“But you’re on the team already,” Jeff persisted. “So why do you need him to keep razzing you like that?”
Hayes gave Jeff a lopsided grin. “You may have forgotten about those two alternates, but I haven’t. I may be on the team now, but that’s no guarantee I’ll stay on it.” Jeff was about to give Hayes a word of encouragement when the other hockey team skated up. As they started introducing themselves to the others, Hayes added one last comment.
“I would have thought you, out of anybody, would understand I don’t want to be yanked from the roster. You know, since you have experience with that.”
Jeff wanted the pond to open up and swallow him. Instead, a gloved hand grasped his and shook it.
Sam Metcalf was grinning at him. “Did you hear the news?” he said excitedly. “I’m officially an alternate for the team now! One of the guys who was chosen decided he would play for an intramural squad instead, so Coach Wallace promoted me from manager to player.”
Jeff smiled warmly. “That’s great!” he said, liking Sam’s enthusiasm. In fact, he decided he liked Sam, period. It was a feeling that grew through the afternoon as the two teams battled for the puck. Sam was a good player, confident in his own abilities but generous with his praise for his teammates. By the time the sun was setting, Jeff found himself wishing Sam had been promoted to full player instead of just alternate.
But in order for that to happen, one of the existing players would have to go. Much as he liked Sam, Jeff didn’t want that to happen.
9
Two days later, Jeff found himself wishing he were back on the ice. The minute he walked into English class Monday afternoon, he knew something was wrong.
“Jeff, could I see you for a minute?” Ms. Collins asked quietly. She handed him the composition he’d written the week before. It was covered with green correction marks — and a big, fat “E.”
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