nodded.
I couldn’t speak. I’d never even thought about switching the guys around. I’d been a right winger for my whole life.
Geez, I didn’t want to end up playing defense or goalie or something.
How was I supposed to score?
“I think Bosko might do well at centre,” Dad said circling something on his notepad.
Now
that
sounded good. I’d keep right wing, which I’d mastered, and Bosko would be stuck in a brand new slot.
I chewed faster, getting excited again.
It was genius!
We’d win games and I’d take the goal competition.
The doorbell rang just as I was imagining skating around the rink, holding the Island league trophy high above my head.
“I’ll get it,” I said, jumping up from the table and leaving my empty plate behind.
When I opened the door, Kenny was standing on the front step, holding a tennis ball and his stick.
“Wanna play?” he asked.
I looked at him like he was crazy. Of course I wanted to play. “Hold on.”
I ran upstairs for some shoes, then back down, wincing as Wendy yelled at me to be quiet. She even said something about beauty sleep.
“Whatever,” I muttered. If beauty was what she was after, she’d be sleeping for years.
No matter what Bosko thought.
“Ready?” Kenny asked from the doorway.
“Meet me in the driveway,” I told him, zipping through the kitchen to grab my stick from the mudroom.
“Where’s the fire?” Dad asked.
“Me and Kenny are going to play until we have to leave.”
“Does he need a ride to the game?” Mum asked.
“I’ll ask.”
His family was … difficult at the games and that made me feel sorry for Kenny. After all, my family behaved pretty well when they came out to cheer us on.
Kenny’s dad liked to yell at the refs.
But not as much as his grandma did.
When I got outside, Kenny had already pulled the net out from the side of the house. It had taken a pretty serious beating over the years, and some of the holes were big enough to let a bowling ball through, but that was okay.
“You need a ride to the game?” I asked.
Kenny glanced at me with relief. “If that’s okay with your mum.”
“She’s the one who asked.”
“Cool,” he said, smiling. “So, you think we’re gonna win today?” he asked, taking a shot.
I thought about Dad leading us straight to the championship. “No doubt,” I told him.
“I don’t know, Nugget. Nanaimo’s pretty tough,” he said, digging the ball out of the bushes with his stick.
“But they’ve only beaten us once in the last two seasons.”
“Yeah, but …” he passed me the ball and didn’t finish what he was saying.
“But what?”
“Nothing,” he shrugged.
I lined up a shot and watched the ball fly right into the top corner of the net. “But what, Kenny?”
“I don’t know. We’re kind of off our game.”
“Off our game? What are you talking about?”
“The guys were saying how no scrimmages at practice meant we wouldn’t be, you know, warmed up for the game.”
I snorted back a laugh. “It’s only been two practices. If we’ve all forgotten how to play, we couldn’t have been any good in the first place.”
“But we’re awesome!” Kenny argued.
“Yeah,” I said, rolling my eyes at him. “That’s the point, you goof. We’ll be fine.”
Better than fine, actually.
We were going to stomp on Nanaimo.
I would make sure of it.
* * *
When it was time to head for the rink, Wendy insisted on driving. If we’d taken Dad’s car, that would have been fine, but I wasn’t a big fan of her skills with the minivan.
Mostly because she didn’t have any.
“How about picking a lane?” I asked, when she almost took us into oncoming traffic.
“How about zipping it, twerp?” she snapped, turning thewheel so hard we almost ended up in a ditch instead.
Mum didn’t say anything, but she had a white-knuckle death grip on her armrest.
“How about a little less chatter?” Dad said, wincing as the tires squealed on a corner.
I couldn’t speak. I’d never even thought about switching the guys around. I’d been a right winger for my whole life.
Geez, I didn’t want to end up playing defense or goalie or something.
How was I supposed to score?
“I think Bosko might do well at centre,” Dad said circling something on his notepad.
Now
that
sounded good. I’d keep right wing, which I’d mastered, and Bosko would be stuck in a brand new slot.
I chewed faster, getting excited again.
It was genius!
We’d win games and I’d take the goal competition.
The doorbell rang just as I was imagining skating around the rink, holding the Island league trophy high above my head.
“I’ll get it,” I said, jumping up from the table and leaving my empty plate behind.
When I opened the door, Kenny was standing on the front step, holding a tennis ball and his stick.
“Wanna play?” he asked.
I looked at him like he was crazy. Of course I wanted to play. “Hold on.”
I ran upstairs for some shoes, then back down, wincing as Wendy yelled at me to be quiet. She even said something about beauty sleep.
“Whatever,” I muttered. If beauty was what she was after, she’d be sleeping for years.
No matter what Bosko thought.
“Ready?” Kenny asked from the doorway.
“Meet me in the driveway,” I told him, zipping through the kitchen to grab my stick from the mudroom.
“Where’s the fire?” Dad asked.
“Me and Kenny are going to play until we have to leave.”
“Does he need a ride to the game?” Mum asked.
“I’ll ask.”
His family was … difficult at the games and that made me feel sorry for Kenny. After all, my family behaved pretty well when they came out to cheer us on.
Kenny’s dad liked to yell at the refs.
But not as much as his grandma did.
When I got outside, Kenny had already pulled the net out from the side of the house. It had taken a pretty serious beating over the years, and some of the holes were big enough to let a bowling ball through, but that was okay.
“You need a ride to the game?” I asked.
Kenny glanced at me with relief. “If that’s okay with your mum.”
“She’s the one who asked.”
“Cool,” he said, smiling. “So, you think we’re gonna win today?” he asked, taking a shot.
I thought about Dad leading us straight to the championship. “No doubt,” I told him.
“I don’t know, Nugget. Nanaimo’s pretty tough,” he said, digging the ball out of the bushes with his stick.
“But they’ve only beaten us once in the last two seasons.”
“Yeah, but …” he passed me the ball and didn’t finish what he was saying.
“But what?”
“Nothing,” he shrugged.
I lined up a shot and watched the ball fly right into the top corner of the net. “But what, Kenny?”
“I don’t know. We’re kind of off our game.”
“Off our game? What are you talking about?”
“The guys were saying how no scrimmages at practice meant we wouldn’t be, you know, warmed up for the game.”
I snorted back a laugh. “It’s only been two practices. If we’ve all forgotten how to play, we couldn’t have been any good in the first place.”
“But we’re awesome!” Kenny argued.
“Yeah,” I said, rolling my eyes at him. “That’s the point, you goof. We’ll be fine.”
Better than fine, actually.
We were going to stomp on Nanaimo.
I would make sure of it.
* * *
When it was time to head for the rink, Wendy insisted on driving. If we’d taken Dad’s car, that would have been fine, but I wasn’t a big fan of her skills with the minivan.
Mostly because she didn’t have any.
“How about picking a lane?” I asked, when she almost took us into oncoming traffic.
“How about zipping it, twerp?” she snapped, turning thewheel so hard we almost ended up in a ditch instead.
Mum didn’t say anything, but she had a white-knuckle death grip on her armrest.
“How about a little less chatter?” Dad said, wincing as the tires squealed on a corner.
Similar Books
