“I think everyone’s here,” said Slapper, who’d walked over while tucking in one side of his jersey, which was the way he always wore it. “My dad took the day off from his construction job, too. Man, this is so exciting! I’ve even—”
Slapper suddenly had a worried look—and it was directed at Lucas.
“You’ve got your underwear on backwards, am I right?” Lucas asked, his eyebrows raised. When Slapper nodded yes, Lucas smiled sympathetically and patted his teammate on the back. “Good. You’re going to do well out there—and we’ll need all the luck we can get!”
The dressing room was starting to sound like a symphony of mismatched instruments: Swift and Bond were laughing loudly (maybe about what it would be like to wear dresses for this game); Lars was sitting on a bench, bouncing his knees up and down; Blades was tapping her stick; and Crunch and Mouth Guard were passing a roll of tape back and forth with their sticks. Click. Click. Click.
There was a rhythm to their dressing room. A beat. And definitely a lot of nervous energy.
“Put your hands on your shoulders if you can hear me,” Coach Small said in his quiet way as he walked into the noisy dressing room, tapping his pen against the top of his clipboard.
A few Chips put their hands on their shoulders, but many just continued on the way they were.
“Put your hands on your knees if you can hear me,” Coach Small continued as more joined in. “Put your finger on your nose if you can hear me.”
Almost every Chip now had a finger on his or her nose—all except Mouth Guard, who had his finger in his nose, as usual.
Looking around the room, Edge thought about how each of his teammates was different. Crunch was brainy, Bond was strong, and Mouth Guard always said what he thought—even when he wasn’t thinking at all. Swift was determined. Blades took risks. Dynamo was quiet. And Lucas put in more effort than any of them, regardless of the state of his equipment. No two Ice Chips were the same, but they were all where they belonged. This was their team. This was their home. This was their family.
See, hockey is for everyone, Edge thought as he quietly listened to Coach Small’s pep talk. Then he put on his helmet and followed the rest of his teammates out toward the rink.
* * *
“Tell Lucas this is for him—for our team,” Dadi told Edge as she leaned over the boards while the players were filing in. She was now wearing her jersey—as were her husband, Edge’s parents, and his little sister, Noor—and she was holding a kohl pencil in her hands.
Dadi knew that Lucas would be at the end of the line—another one of his superstitions—but she also knew that the two linemates would be together on the ice.
Edge looked up and chuckled. Then he turned his head so his grandmother could draw a black dot behind his ear, as she’d often done to Noor.
“For luck,” she said with a smile and a pat. “Mahriaa shot, keeta goal!”
And then she turned to go back to her seat.
“What on earth is that?” asked the Face, who’d been walking behind Edge.
“She thinks it’s bad luck to be perfect,” said the Chips’ top scorer, grinning. “If I have a mark like this—something that makes me not perfect—she thinks I’ll play a perfect game.”
* * *
The light show that filled the arena to kick off the match was absolutely insane. No wonder it had taken days to complete.
The moment the Zamboni finished clearing the ice, the rink lights dimmed and the music, sounding more like it belonged in Cirque du Soleil than a novice hockey game, hit full volume.
A bright white light banged on, shining down onto the red centre line. A player then appeared on the ice—suddenly, even though no door had opened in the boards.
“Oh, goodness, it’s a hologram,” Swift said to Lucas, rolling her eyes.
Both she and Lucas were standing with their helmets pressed up to the glass—Swift with her regular goalie helmet, and Lucas with the second-hand one he’d just bought with the allowance he’d saved. It smelled better than Speedy’s old helmet—the one he’d lost on their leap—but the sizing was still wrong. Luckily, his parents hadn’t even noticed the change.
This 3D hockey player who’d been created with beams of light was skating around the ice with his arms over his head, and both Lucas and Swift felt a shiver. It was like he was taunting them.
“This isn’t just a hologram—it’s a hologram of Jared,” Lucas said, squinting. Of course it’s a Blitz.
Next a hologram of Beatrice lit up, and then, one by one, images of their teammates appeared in flashes. The fake Stars began whirling around the rink like a cyclone gathering energy, distracting the spectators while the real players filed in toward the centre. By the time the announcer had called the last player’s name and number, they were all huddled at centre ice, in the middle of the cyclone . . . waiting. The bright white light’s circle on the ice grew just big enough to include all the Stars players—the real ones.
The holograms were gone.
That’s when Coach Blitz worked his way into the middle of the group and started shouting.
After each rough, angry call, his players were there to answer him:
“WHO BURNS BRIGHTEST?!”
“THE STARS!”
“WHO BURNS BRIGHTEST?!”
“THE STARS!”
“AND WHO’S ON FIRE?”
“WE ARE!”
“WHO’S ON FIRE?”
“WE ARE!”
“NOW LET’S BURN UP THE ICE. I SAID, ‘BURN UP THE ICE’! LET ME HEAR YOU!”
“STARS! STARS! STARS!”
“STAAAAAARS!”
This was the Coach Blitz’s new cheer, and Lucas hated it—all the Ice Chips did. They also hated the fact that they had no cheer to send back at them.
“We never came up with anything,” said Edge, bumping Lucas’s arm with his stick. “Coach Small said we could make up our own cheer, but we didn’t. We forgot.”
“We were too busy leaping, and now it’s too late!” said Bond, disappointed. They all watched as the Stars moved over to their half of the ice, with Jared and Beatrice acting like they’d just been crowned.
The regular lights came back on, and soon the announcer was talking again, calling out the Ice Chips’ numbers and names. Only now, it was as though he was too bored to be there.
“Number 17, Ekamjeet Singh . . .”
“Number 8, Tianna Foster . . .”
Chapter 17
FRRRRRL-FWEEET!
The referee’s whistle blew, calling Lucas and Beatrice to centre for the faceoff.
“We looked in your stinky purple gym bag,” Beatrice said with a sneer as she leaned forward and placed the heel of her stick on the ice in front of her. “Nice fake trophy. You guys really are losers.”
“Why do you care?” Lucas sneered back. In his head, of course, he was thinking about the Stanley Cup, and about the fact that he—Lucas “Top Shelf” Finnigan—had actually, finally, had the chance to hold it above his head. It didn’t matter that it was in Swift’s purple bag at the time, or that he wasn’t skating but running to catch an electric streetcar.
What was important was that he’d held it. Seen it. Smelled it.
And that had taught him something he’d never expected to learn.
He wanted to hold a trophy over his head, but that trophy wasn’t the Stanley Cup. His dream was to do what he was doing at this very moment: fighting for the right to hoist the Golden Grail, just as the Ice Chips had done in that old photo he loved so much.
“Well, I don’t care if you’re losers,” Beatrice said awkwardly—it was the only comeback she had. That and sticking out her tongue.
Lucas just rolled his eyes. The Blitz twins never changed, not even for a championship match.
FFFF-RRRRRRLLLLLL!
The referee blew his whistle again, and the round black disk was dropped to the ice.
They were off!
Beatrice won the first faceoff and sent the puck flying into
the curve of Jared’s stick, where it landed without a sound. Jared stickhandled twice, but then surprisingly went for a slapshot on the Chips’ net, probably trying to show off for the crowd. The puck didn’t even make it to Swift, and Bond picked it up easily, sending it around the boards behind their net.
The Stars’ fans jumped to their feet anyway, some of them even cheering. Lucas’s parents clapped and yelled, “Go, Ice Chips!” a couple of times. But Edge’s dadi didn’t say a thing.
Lucas won the next faceoff and got the puck back to Edge, who was ready for it. He smiled—he’d been practising his tuck move all morning, to make sure he still had it.
Jared was now barrelling toward him, but Edge saw him coming and waited until the very last moment before trying his special play. Once the Stars’ forward was on him, Edge used the tip of his stick to flip the puck back and draw it toward himself. Then once Jared reached for it, Edge slipped it through his opponent’s skates and was off and running!
“HEY!” Jared called out as he turned to go after Edge, but Beatrice, appearing to misread her brother, suddenly plowed into him. The Blitz twins were flat on their backs on the ice when Edge went five-hole on the Stars’ goalie, easily slamming the puck into the back of the net.
It was 1–0 for the Ice Chips. They were one point closer to their trophy!
Edge circled around and offered Jared his hand. “Sorry about that,” he said, grinning. When Jared didn’t take the hand and scowled, he added: “I guess she thought you were a hologram.”
Edge’s grandfather was the first up on his feet and cheering, but Edge’s grandmother still hadn’t moved. She was looking at the Stars’ coach, and she was frowning.
“MAAAHRIAA SHOT! KEEEETA GOAL!” was soon ringing out across the arena, but Edge wasn’t sure who had even started it. The rest of the Chips’ fans were jumping to their feet, and the Stars’ fans had started booing.
“This seems too easy,” Lucas whispered to Edge. He couldn’t understand why the Stars were playing so badly.
Jared Blitz hates that tuck play. Does he never see it coming?
* * *
“Great move, Edge,” Coach Small said, slapping the Chips’ top scorer on the back after his second goal—scored using his special play.
They were nearing the end of the first period when Nolan went for the puck, but Beatrice stole it from him . . . and fumbled it. Jared then lazily picked up the rebound off the boards and sent a saucer pass into the middle of nowhere. None of the Chips knew why.
It was 2–0 for the Ice Chips when the buzzer went, signalling the end of the period. Lucas didn’t get it. Are the Stars actually trying to lose? Or are they working on a plan?
The announcer was asking everyone to clear the ice to make room for a flood—there would be three this game—and of course, another light show.
Lucas was on his bench, watching the various Stars’ players file off the ice, when he finally made eye contact with Nolan.
The Stars’ defenceman pulled off his helmet and mouthed something, but Lucas couldn’t make it out—he was too far away. Next, Nolan made a sign with his gloves still on, pointing his fingers like he was about to shoot, then dropping one “gun” down on top of the other. Lucas still didn’t get it. He turned to take a sip from his water bottle and saw that Shayna, Nolan’s sister, had skated back onto the ice to pick up a glove she’d dropped near the Chips’ bench.
“It’s the underdog thing,” Shayna explained as quickly as she could out of the side of her mouth. “You guys get all the cheers because no one expects you to win—and then sometimes you do.”
Lucas nodded. He kind of understood.
“We want that—Coach Blitz wants that. We’re tricking you,” Shayna continued. “The plan is: you win the first period, and then we’ll kick your butts for the rest of the game. That’s how everyone will love the Stars.” A moment later, Shayna was stepping off the ice with the rest of her team.
* * *
Slapper squished himself between Edge and Lucas, who were waiting near the boards as the next light display was beginning.
“We’re doing awesome,” he said, wrapping an arm around each of his teammates and giving them a little squeeze.
The Chips had walked back to their dressing room to retape or wipe their hair with towels, but as usual, Coach Blitz had insisted that they return to watch the show he’d prepared.
“It’s a trick, Slapper,” Lucas said loudly once the music had started.
As the lights changed, cracks and holes appeared on the ice—they were projected like the holograms—and the sound of snapping ice went crackling through the arena. A moment later, pieces of the ice seemed to fall away, leaving behind gaping holes of lava.
“If they add holograms of us to this, I’m leaving,” Edge said, feeling a little shiver go down his spine.
Then in a flash, the entire ice surface was a chessboard, and holographic Beatrices and Jareds were appearing on different squares.
“How is it a trick?” Slapper asked, looking hurt. “You mean we’re not really this good?”
“We could be—we can be,” said Lucas, thinking about what he’d learned in their half-ice practice, and then what he’d learned about himself out on that frozen canal. “We can do this,” he said, tapping Slapper’s stick with his own. “But you’d better be ready to score.”
Slapper stared straight ahead at the bizarrely lit ice and swallowed hard.
Chapter 18
“Those lights are so weird,” the Face said to Edge and Swift as the Chips all filed back onto the ice to make a loop before beginning the second period. “Edge, you’re lucky you’re getting to score so much. Your grandma must be going wild.”
Edge shrugged his shoulders. He was never sure what the Face was really saying. Half the time he was bragging, and the other half he was just confusing.
“It’s tough out there today,” Swift said to the Face, banging her stick against his pads. “But hopefully you’ll get a chance in net, too.” Because Swift was so good, the Face barely got any ice time—and Swift never let herself forget that.
The three Chips looked up as the Stars’ cheer started at the other end of the rink. This time, it was so loud it sounded like they might even be using the announcer’s microphone:
“WHO BURNS BRIGHTEST?!”
“THE STARS!”
“WHO BURNS BRIGHTEST?!”
“THE STARS!”
“AND WHO’S ON FIRE?”
“WE ARE!”
“We really need a cheer,” Lucas said to Edge as his friend caught up with him on the ice. “If the Stars are trying to trick us—and trying to psych us out—we need to fight back in every way we can.”
* * *
Lucas took the next faceoff, and the puck went back to Edge and then back to Lucas again. Both Blitz twins were speeding toward Lucas when he tried Edge’s tuck play, but he was too slow. Beatrice poke-checked him and the puck was soon rattling around in the Chips’ end again.
Beatrice quickly roofed a wrister for the Stars’ first goal, and then when Lucas lost the next faceoff, Jared got them with a slapshot that slipped past a gap in Swift’s pads and was in.
The game was tied 2–2 at the end of the second period. But Lucas could tell that the Blitz team was just getting started—they really were about to crush them.
* * *
“Okay, I’ll do it,” Slapper said, almost whispering into his jersey. He’d walked over to Lucas and Swift in the dressing room—it was their last break before the final period. “Just don’t make me look like a dummy in front of my dad. Don’t steal my puck again.”
“Wooo! The Stars are shining tonight!” Jared shouted in the hallway as Mouth Guard, who was playing with the Chips’ dressing room door, swung it open and shut again. The next time it opened, Jared blew a kiss to the Chips, which made the players furious.
“Oh, yeah?” Lucas yelled back, puffing out his chest. “Well, I hope you brought your sunglasses tonight. Because our whole
team is stellar!”
“Yeah—and we’re about to go supernova!” Edge added, laughing.
“You guys are weak,” said Bond, giggling. “Now what’s our cheer?”
“We don’t have one,” said Mouth Guard, still at the door.
“Well, let’s change that!” demanded Dynamo. His knees were already twitching; he was ready to get back on the ice.
“Change that how?” asked Lars, as though he didn’t believe it could be done.
“What about saying ice is cool—you know, like chillin’,” suggested Slapper. He was trying his best.
“How about . . . no, nothing. Forget it,” said Crunch.
“A song about ice? Are we allowed to sing a song?” asked Bond, looking hopeful.
Lucas shook his head. Edge’s brain was starting to hurt.
“Um, I think I know what we want,” said the Face, clearing his throat and stepping forward. For once, he didn’t sound full of himself. “It’s perfect, I promise. But I should ask first. I want to make sure we’re allowed.”
The Face had the most serious expression the Chips had ever seen.
And he was looking directly at Edge.
* * *
The final light show had something to do with butterflies being released into space, and a hockey player who looked like Coach Blitz skating around a tiny planet like he was the Little Prince on ice. Lucas couldn’t imagine how anyone had understood it, but still the Stars’ fans had cheered wildly.
“Everyone squeeze in, gather together,” Swift said once the Chips had made their loop of the ice. They squished themselves into a small circle in their own end and put their arms over one another’s shoulders, just as their opponents were doing.
The Stars were the first to launch their cheer:
“WHO BURNS BRIGHTEST?!”
“THE STARS!”
“WHO BURNS BRIGHTEST?!”
“THE STARS!”
Then it was the Chips’ turn.
“Are you sure?” the Face asked Edge one final time as he wiggled his way into the centre of the group.
The Ice Chips and the Stolen Cup Page 9