said — and I guess it was.
“You gotta at least try to slow us down,” Rasheed said to the other team.
“Teams are way too stacked,” Collin complained.
“Let’s play to five and we’ll switch it up,” Rasheed said.
It didn’t take us more than five minutes to do that. Playing with Matthew and Rasheed was magic. They were always where I wanted them to be, and I would get the pass, right on my stick, at the exact right moment. Jacob kind of got in the way, but we basically ignored him. On the last goal, Rasheed, me, and Matthew must have passed it ten times around the net before I snuck behind a player at the far post and drilled it off the post before he could turn around.
The guy obviously didn’t like that much and he swung his stick at the puck and banged me right on the shin just after I scored. The pain took my breath away. No way I was crying, though. Undergrounders don’t cry when they get hurt. I turned away and wiped my eyes, pretending I had some dirt in them, and ignored the pain.
No one saw me — or at least nobody said anything.
“Sick moves, Jonathon,” Rasheed said.
We punched gloves.
“The J-Man is on fire,” Matthew said a few times.
I had to laugh. These guys were kind of funny. That was five goals. I pushed off and glided toward centre on one foot, hoping I got to stay on Rasheed and Matthew’s team.
I heard a deep, gravelly voice from the side of the rink say real loud, “Hey, Rasheed, I’ve seen enough.” He added, “Why don’t you introduce me to your new friend?”
Chapter 11
Rasheed pulled at my arm until I followed him to a man standing behind the fence. Undergrounders knew better than to trust adults, so I was totally on my guard.
“What’s your name, son?” he asked.
“Jonathon.”
“Well, Jonathon. That was some good stuff out there. You’re a good skater. I love the creativity and puck control — you can’t teach that. Rasheed told me you might come out this morning, and based on what he said I thought it would be worth taking the chance that you would play.”
I got real nervous. Lewis had warned me about government people who threw street kids into juvie or foster care. Was that what was happening? The man didn’t seem mean, and he smiled real big and looked friendly.
“I imagine you’re wondering who I am. I’m Rasheed’s hockey coach. My mom calls me Luigi — everyone else calls me Lou. Anyway, one of our forwards got hurt recently. Broke his leg snowboarding of all things, and we’re a man down.” He pressed his lips together real tight and grabbed hold of the fencing. “I understand you’re not signed with anyone?”
I looked at Rasheed for help.
“He’s not, Lou,” Rasheed said.
“Tremendous.” He scrunched his mouth to one side. “You’re not the biggest kid I’ve seen. How tall are you?”
“Don’t really know,” I muttered. Like I need to be reminded I’m small.
“With your speed that shouldn’t be a problem …” He rubbed his chin with his hand. “Do you mind taking a few shots on net?”
“Hey Collin, pass some pucks over, will ya?” Rasheed yelled.
“Sure thing,” Collin answered.
A bunch of pucks came firing over. I felt dumb lining up at the blue line while everyone else stopped playing to watch. I didn’t want to let Rasheed down, so I really laid into them and blasted a couple just under the crossbar. Another dinged off the post. I thought I did okay. The guys tapped their sticks on the ice, anyway.
“Come on over,” Lou called to me.
“Do you go by Jonathon, or Jon, or Jonny?” Lou asked.
“Don’t really care.”
“I’ll go with Jonny — a good hockey name. When I was younger I loved a player named Johnny Bucyk on the Bruins. Don’t suppose you … Well, probably not, since you weren’t even born when he retired.” He cleared his throat. “Jonny, I’d like to invite you to our next practice. Have a skate with us and if you like it then maybe you can help us out for
“You gotta at least try to slow us down,” Rasheed said to the other team.
“Teams are way too stacked,” Collin complained.
“Let’s play to five and we’ll switch it up,” Rasheed said.
It didn’t take us more than five minutes to do that. Playing with Matthew and Rasheed was magic. They were always where I wanted them to be, and I would get the pass, right on my stick, at the exact right moment. Jacob kind of got in the way, but we basically ignored him. On the last goal, Rasheed, me, and Matthew must have passed it ten times around the net before I snuck behind a player at the far post and drilled it off the post before he could turn around.
The guy obviously didn’t like that much and he swung his stick at the puck and banged me right on the shin just after I scored. The pain took my breath away. No way I was crying, though. Undergrounders don’t cry when they get hurt. I turned away and wiped my eyes, pretending I had some dirt in them, and ignored the pain.
No one saw me — or at least nobody said anything.
“Sick moves, Jonathon,” Rasheed said.
We punched gloves.
“The J-Man is on fire,” Matthew said a few times.
I had to laugh. These guys were kind of funny. That was five goals. I pushed off and glided toward centre on one foot, hoping I got to stay on Rasheed and Matthew’s team.
I heard a deep, gravelly voice from the side of the rink say real loud, “Hey, Rasheed, I’ve seen enough.” He added, “Why don’t you introduce me to your new friend?”
Chapter 11
Rasheed pulled at my arm until I followed him to a man standing behind the fence. Undergrounders knew better than to trust adults, so I was totally on my guard.
“What’s your name, son?” he asked.
“Jonathon.”
“Well, Jonathon. That was some good stuff out there. You’re a good skater. I love the creativity and puck control — you can’t teach that. Rasheed told me you might come out this morning, and based on what he said I thought it would be worth taking the chance that you would play.”
I got real nervous. Lewis had warned me about government people who threw street kids into juvie or foster care. Was that what was happening? The man didn’t seem mean, and he smiled real big and looked friendly.
“I imagine you’re wondering who I am. I’m Rasheed’s hockey coach. My mom calls me Luigi — everyone else calls me Lou. Anyway, one of our forwards got hurt recently. Broke his leg snowboarding of all things, and we’re a man down.” He pressed his lips together real tight and grabbed hold of the fencing. “I understand you’re not signed with anyone?”
I looked at Rasheed for help.
“He’s not, Lou,” Rasheed said.
“Tremendous.” He scrunched his mouth to one side. “You’re not the biggest kid I’ve seen. How tall are you?”
“Don’t really know,” I muttered. Like I need to be reminded I’m small.
“With your speed that shouldn’t be a problem …” He rubbed his chin with his hand. “Do you mind taking a few shots on net?”
“Hey Collin, pass some pucks over, will ya?” Rasheed yelled.
“Sure thing,” Collin answered.
A bunch of pucks came firing over. I felt dumb lining up at the blue line while everyone else stopped playing to watch. I didn’t want to let Rasheed down, so I really laid into them and blasted a couple just under the crossbar. Another dinged off the post. I thought I did okay. The guys tapped their sticks on the ice, anyway.
“Come on over,” Lou called to me.
“Do you go by Jonathon, or Jon, or Jonny?” Lou asked.
“Don’t really care.”
“I’ll go with Jonny — a good hockey name. When I was younger I loved a player named Johnny Bucyk on the Bruins. Don’t suppose you … Well, probably not, since you weren’t even born when he retired.” He cleared his throat. “Jonny, I’d like to invite you to our next practice. Have a skate with us and if you like it then maybe you can help us out for
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