by Fran Hurcomb
“But…okay, I’ll have to think about it. But I warn you, I can’t skate. I’ll probably have to be propped up. Do you have any equipment?” We all started to talk at once. Somebody’s brother had this, someone else’s had that.
“We’ll come up with equipment if you’ll just come out once or twice and try it out. We promise not to bug you if you decide not to do it after that,” said Sam. She was certainly sounding grown-up all of a sudden.
“Well, okay,” agreed Alice, still shaking her head in surprise. “I’ll try anything once.”
Alice agreed to meet us after school two days later. We had two days to find equipment.
The snow started about 1:00 pm. Big gentle flakes drifted down from the heavy gray sky. It was beautiful. Without snow, winter just didn’t feel right. It would be at least six months before we saw the ground again. This made me a little sad, but the beauty of it all quickly erased any sad thoughts from my brain. Of course, now we’d have to start shoveling the rink. This would really separate the hockey players from the couch potatoes.
Chapter Nine
Sure enough, the snow came down…and down…and down. The snowmobilers in town were thrilled. You were taking your life in your hands walking down the street. It sometimes seemed as though every crazy teenager in town had the use of a very hot snow machine. They went roaring up and down the streets and trails until about midnight. Of course, people complained about it nonstop, but it was hard to do anything about them because they were too fast for the bylaw officers to catch. Besides that, they were all dressed like Darth Vader, with black plastic helmets, black visors and black clothing. Everyone looked exactly the same.
My mom says that when snowmobiles first arrived in Fort Desperation they were really useful. They replaced dog teams as the best type of winter transportation. They were great for hauling wood, breaking trail and generally getting trappers and hunters around in the bush. Now they’re basically just very expensive toys, and I don’t like them. Too noisy and smelly. Too dangerous.
Anyway, it was snowing so heavily that we had to take a day off practice. There was no way we could ever shovel fast enough to keep ahead of the snow. That was actually a good thing, because it gave us time to get our equipment organized. The girls all came to the café, and we got everybody sorted out with equipment. We also got a few donations from older brothers. The biggest surprise came from the Graham twins, who staggered into the café dragging a huge duffel bag.
“What have you got in there, a body?” asked Sam.
“You’ll never believe this,” said Ruby. “Our dimwit brother was once a goalie!” And with that, they dumped a pile of equipment onto the floor. The smell was awful, but it looked like everything a goalie would ever need was there.
My mom’s customers were getting used to the café being hockey central. Some of them had been quite useful in helping us figure out which bits of equipment were which. Black Mike, an old truck driver who wasn’t even black, looked at our goalie gear. “Boy, this stuff is old. Looks like something I might have wore.”
“You were a goalie? No way,” said Sam with her usual tact.
“Sure. Back in Yellowknife, years ago. Played for the Giant Grizzlies. Course we didn’t use helmets, them days. Or a face mask. Sissy stuff. See this scar?” He pointed to a nasty-looking scar that cut one eyebrow in half. “Slapshot. Game against Con. Played the whole last period with my eye swole right shut.” He grinned a mainly toothless grin, chuckled and went back to his coffee. Sarah and the twins pulled faces when his back was turned. Black Mike was a café regular, so I was used to him, but I guess other people thought he was a bit weird.
While we surveyed the pile, the door opened again and out of the whirling snow came Tara, the rec coordinator.
“Wow,” she said, brushing off her hood and clapping her mitts free of snow. “Some storm.” She came over to admire our pile of stuff. “Where did you get all of this?” she asked, obviously impressed.
“Oh, here and there,” replied Sam, attempting to be cool.
We didn’t really know Tara very well yet. She had moved to Fort Desperation in the spring and had worked hard all summer to keep us kids occupied and out of trouble. She organized baseball tournaments, swimming lessons and soccer clinics. There were camping trips, canoeing lessons and craft nights. There was only one problem. In the summer, northerners, kids especially, like to stay up half the night and sleep half the day. Since it’s light all the time, it doesn’t really matter when you sleep, so anything that’s scheduled or organized doesn’t work very well. The summer is our free time after a long dark winter, and we’re sure not going to ruin it with lessons!
Winter, however, is another thing. The days are short and the cold is sometimes really extreme. Of course, from my point of view, the whole reason for winter is to play hockey, so once the arena is operating, cold and darkness aren’t huge problems.
“Good news about ice time,” said Tara. “You’ll be able to get ice at least three times a week, just like the boys, once the arena opens. Isn’t that great?”
“Yeah. If the arena ever opens,” said Geraldine, who was busy trying on shoulder pads.
“Well,” replied Tara, “from what I could understand, they’ve ordered the parts they need for the Zamboni and they should be here next month. Are you girls still practicing on the pond?”
“Yeah, except all of this snow is going to slow things down quite a bit,” replied Sam.
“Yes, I suppose it will,” said Tara solemnly. Her face suddenly lit up. “Well, I’ll see you all later,” she said as she hurried out the door.
“Wonder what she’s up to?” mused Sam.
“Maybe she’s going to start a craft class to make Zamboni parts,” Ger giggled. That got a good laugh from everyone as we continued to sort through the smelly bags of equipment.
The snow finally stopped overnight. At lunchtime, we all agreed to bring shovels with us after school. There looked to be about six inches of the fluffy stuff on the ground. This was going to be brutal.
As I walked to the pond after school, the sun was dipping below the trees and the sky glowed pink and blue. In the distance, I could hear a motor. Sounded like a generator or a chainsaw on steroids. As I got closer, I could tell that the sound was coming from the pond. In the distance, I could see a small figure in red. The air over the pond looked thick, like it was in the middle of a snowstorm. I slowly began to see that the small red figure was pushing something back and forth on the pond. A snowblower! Someone was using a snowblower on the pond! I raced down to the edge and dropped my gear. Small stakes had been placed around the edge of the area that was being cleared. There, in the middle of the pond, covered in snow and frost, was Tara. Because of the noise of the machine, she hadn’t heard me arrive. Slowly and methodically, she pushed the snowblower down the length of the ice surface that she had marked out. When she reached the end, she paused before turning around. She looked up for a moment, saw me and waved.
“I’m almost done,” she called above the roar of the machine. She turned and headed down the far side of the rink. That’s what it was—a rink! Our pond had become a real rink. Now it had edges. It looked almost the same size as the rink in the arena. Wow! She must have been at it all day.
I quickly laced up my skates and headed out with my shovel to clear the last little bit of snow off the surface. While I whizzed back and forth with my shovel, the others arrived. They were all as amazed as I was and quickly hit the ice to help. Tara finished the far edge and pushed the machine over to the benches. She shut it off and sat down.
“Whew,” she said. “I’m glad that’s done. There was a lot of snow.” She was covered in snow and frost. Even her eyelashes were heavy with tiny snowballs.
“Yikes,” screamed Sam, when she got close enough to see Tara better. “A bushman. Or maybe I should say bushwoman.”
Tara growled a not very convincing growl and shook herself. Snow flew all over us. Behind us, a pickup truck pulled up and
stopped. Curtis hopped out and strolled over.
“Wow. Now that’s a rink,” he said. He looked at Tara, trying to see who was under the layers of snow and frost. “Looks like you might be responsible for this,” he laughed.
Tara smiled shyly and nodded.
Sam, with her newfound maturity, jumped to the rescue.
“This is Tara, the new rec director,” she said to Curtis. “This is Curtis, our coach,” she explained to Tara.
Curtis and Tara smiled at each other and then quickly looked away. Weird! Maybe Tara thought Curtis was cute too.
“This is great,” said Curtis finally. “Thanks a lot. Saved the girls a lot of shoveling.”
“Oh, that’s okay,” replied Tara. “It was kind of fun. I borrowed the snowblower from the hamlet garage. Might as well put it to good use. I even brought my skates. Do you mind if I take a spin around while you practice?”
“Go ahead,” replied Curtis. “I mean, it is your rink!”
Tara laughed. “It’s not mine! It’s for everyone. That even includes boys,” she added with a grin.
“Oh no.” We all groaned.
“Oh yes,” she said. “It’s for anyone who spends a bit of time cleaning it occasionally.”
“Fair enough,” said Curtis. “Okay, girls, let’s get some of that fancy equipment on and we’ll run a few drills.”
We had just started into our drills when a snow machine with two people on it came roaring across the playground toward us. It braked to a halt by the benches and shut down. The figure on the back took off its helmet. It was Alice Greyeyes! In all the excitement of the new rink, we had completely forgotten that she was coming. The driver, her boyfriend, Cory, removed his helmet as well and scowled at us. Alice walked slowly over to the bench, a pair of skates slung over her shoulder.
“It’s Alice,” yelled Lucy. “Uncle, our new goalie is here.”
Lucy was so excited that she completely wiped out as she raced toward Alice. She slid across the ice on her stomach and stopped right by Alice’s feet. “Hi.” She grinned.
“Hi, yourself,” replied Alice.
“Are you going to put on your equipment?” asked Lucy.
“Well, I don’t know quite what I’m supposed to do,” replied Alice.
“Oh,” said Lucy gravely. “Well, Uncle will know. He’s our coach,” she said with obvious pride.
On cue Curtis skated over, smiling. “I’m Curtis Beaulieu. I guess I’m the coach. At least for the next few days.”
Alice introduced herself. “The girls asked me if I’d try out to be their goalie,” she explained.
“Are you usually a goalie?”
“Actually, I’m a soccer goalie. I don’t know anything about hockey.”
“Oh,” said Curtis with a nod. “Well, do you want to give it a try?”
“I guess I could,” Alice replied.
“Can you skate?”
“Not very well. I can stand up, but that’s about it.” “Okay. Well, why don’t you put on your skates and grab a helmet and a stick, and we’ll get you skating a bit to start with.” Curtis smiled at her, and then he skated back to the center of the rink. “Come on, girls. It’s going to be dark soon. Let’s get going.”
Chapter Ten
The rest of the week passed in a blur: school, hockey, school, hockey. Having Curtis as a coach had given everyone a major lift. He had us doing drills we had never tried before. We were improving every day, especially the new girls. The biggest surprise had to be the twins. They still skated sort of funny, but Curtis had quickly noticed something—they were great going backward. Nobody, not even the Smithers girls, could keep up with them. According to Curtis, they were going to be the core of our defense.
We had lots of forwards. Sam, Ger and I had played together last year on a line, and so had the Smithers girls. Sarah and Alyssa were getting pretty good on defense. Little Lucy was as slippery as a weasel. She seemed to be able to sneak through or around most of us. When she got bigger, she was going to be great. The newer players like Morgan and Denise were still trying out different positions.
Alice was doing okay in goal, as well. She could skate a bit, so standing in net on skates was not going to be a big problem. All those years of playing goal in soccer had given her quick reflexes and an instinct for where a shot was likely to go. For her, it was the equipment that was the problem.
“There’s just so much of it,” she complained. “It must weigh thirty pounds. And that mask. It’s always in the way. I can’t see anything.” She was totally exasperated. Curtis laughed.
“Well, I know what you mean,” he said, “but believe it or not, you’ll get used to it. You’re strong and fast. You’re going to be a great goalie.” Alice glowed.
The only thing I was worried about was her boyfriend. I heard at school that Cory was giving her a hard time about playing hockey. Maybe he thought it was taking up too much of her time. I guess it would all boil down to how much she was enjoying it. So far, so good.
After Friday’s practice, Curtis called us all together. “Well, tomorrow’s the day I head out to camp. I’ll be gone for two weeks.”
There was a long groan. “What are we going to do?”
“Well, that’s pretty much up to you. Do you want to keep playing or do you want some time off?”
“Play,” we all said.
Curtis smiled his big smile. “That’s what I hoped. I’ve arranged for someone to be here for your practices, but you older girls are going to have to give her a hand.” Her? Who was he talking about?
“Tara can be here every day after school to keep things going,” said Curtis. Tara, who had been skating at most of our practices, smiled at us.
“I know I can’t coach you like Curtis does,” she said quietly, “but with your help, I’m sure we can keep things going until he gets back.” There was a moment of silence while we took in this piece of news. Then I said, “Sounds good to me. Thanks, Tara. We need all the help we can get.”
“Maybe when I get back, we’ll have a game against the Peewee boys,” said Curtis. “They’ve been practicing a bit, but I think if you keep working, you’ll give them a good game.”
A game! Everyone’s eyes lit up. Yes!
The only one who looked a bit worried was Alice. “I’m not sure I’m ready for a game yet,” she said quietly.
“Sure you are, Alice,” said Sam. We all nodded in agreement.
“You’ll be surprised at how well you’ll do,” said Curtis. “Those boys won’t know what hit them.”
We should have known that things were going too well. My mom calls it Murphy’s Law. On Saturday night, someone trashed the skate-sharpening machine. For as long as I can remember, the sharpening machine had stood in the entranceway to Dave’s Gas Bar. It was the only place within three hundred kilometers to get skates sharpened. Sometimes it broke down for a day or two, but Dave was always able to get it up and running again. For a dollar apiece, your skates usually came out sharper than they went in.
According to Dave, a snow machine had pulled up in front of the station around 10:00 pm. He thought it was coming in for gas or something. But instead the driver quickly passed a rope around the skate-sharpening machine and dragged it off the porch and about a kilometer down the road, where it was run over several times. It was toast. Dave told the rcmp it happened so fast that he didn’t even realize what was going on until the machine was gone. The driver was dressed in a Darth Vader helmet, so Dave couldn’t tell who it was. It could have been anybody. But who?
Fort Desperation gets its share of vandalism, but this was the first time that I had been directly affected. Last summer someone broke most of windows at the school, but this was different. No skate-sharpening machine, no skating. It was simple. Why would someone do something like that?
One bad thing about skating on the pond is that your skates get dull really fast—way faster than in the arena. Without the sharpening machine, our practices were going to end really soon.
Luckily, at school on Monday, the Smithers girls let everyone know that their dad was driving to Hay River the next day and would take all of the skates that we could deliver to the detachment by 9:00 am. We had a quick practice after school, and then everyone walked by the detachment to drop off their skates.
This solution would work once, but what about next week, and the week after that? Corporal Smithers was really nice about everything. He piled all the skates into two boxes and said he’d let us know how much it cost when he got back in two days. We helped him load the boxes into the back of the huge rcmp suv, and then asked him if he had any leads.
“Not yet,” he said, “but Fort Desperation is a small place and nothing stays a secret forever.”
Chapter Eleven
When Corporal Smithers returned to town, he brought not only our skates, but a beat-up old skate-sharpening machine as well.
“A donation from the Hay River Hardware Store,” he said, grinning. “They sharpen with a grindstone now, so they had this old-timer stored in the back, waiting for a new home. I’ll take it over to the gas station and see if Dave wants it.”
ACP. We all grabbed our skates and headed to the pond for a quick skate before dark. It had been three days, the longest any of us had gone without skating since the pond froze.
Six of us arrived together and immediately noticed that there was something on the ice: fluorescent red paint. At first it made no sense, but then Sam put it all together.
“GIRLS GO HOME. It says GIRLS GO HOME,” yelled Sam. “Why would it say that?”
We stood there in stunned silence. This was meant for us. Why would anyone do this?
“Maybe it’s a joke,” said Sarah.
“I don’t think so,” replied Alice quietly. “Look at this.” She gestured to several holes in the ice. They weren’t too deep—maybe three inches or so. Just enough to make skating into them dangerous.