Ice Time (8 page)

Instinct took over. Rocket faked a pass to Goldsy, and in the same motion, he let loose a wicked snap shot over the goalie’s shoulder.

He gasped. Someone had cross-checked him from behind. For a moment, the air left his body and he struggled to breathe.

“Bush-league cheap shot!” Rory yelled.

A defenceman stood in his way. Rory pushed him back, trying to get to the guy who’d hit Rocket.

“I got him,” the referee said.

Rocket sat up.

The referee pointed at the centreman. “You’re gone for two minutes: a cross-check after the play.”

The centre groaned. “I barely touched him. He’s two inches tall. Not my fault he fell like a house of cards.”

Rocket got up on one knee. “I learned that trick from Thumbelina,” he said.

The centre rolled his eyes and headed to the box.

Rocket stood up. The puck must have deflected out of play. He wondered where the faceoff was.

Then Rory came over with the puck in hand. “An honour to get an assist on your first AHL goal,” he said.

It took a moment to register. “That actually went in? A goal?”

Rory slapped his shin pads. “I think that’s what they call it when this little black thingy goes in between those red posty things.”

Rocket rolled his shoulders and neck. That cross-check had really hurt. He felt a bit wobbly.

Rory handed him the puck. “Welcome to the league — and way to pay the price in close.”

Goldsy tapped Rocket’s pads. “Nice shot,” he said simply, then skated away.

Rocket’s two defencemen gave him a pat on the helmet and skated back to the Racers’ blue line.

Suddenly, Rocket was overcome by a dizzy spell. He closed his eyes and shook his head. The feeling went away, but he still felt a bit sick to his stomach.

Nadav leaned over the boards. “Are you okay? That was a nasty hit.”

Rocket skated over and gave Nadav the puck.

“I’m fi—”

“Give me a break,” Barker interrupted. “He barely got touched.” He leaned over the boards, too. “Rockwood, don’t think I didn’t notice you disobeying my order on that faceoff. And don’t think scoring made up for it.” He stood back up on the bench.

“It was a nice shot,” Nadav said to him.

Rocket grunted and went to centre. McGill was keeping him on. That was the important thing, not Barker’s stupid comments.

He leaned down for the draw. Again, a wave of dizziness flooded over him and dots danced in his eyes. He blinked a few times and took a deep breath. The referee dropped the puck. Rocket swung his stick mechanically. The puck skidded back to his left defenceman.

Rocket did a quick curl and took a short pass on the fly. He crossed centre and gave it up to Rory, who continued down the wall. The other team’s left defenceman stumbled slightly, and Rory was able to keep going.

Just over the blue line Rory cut inside, and Rocket crossed behind him to the boards. Rory rewarded him with a nice backhand flip pass. The Marlies’ defenceman kept with Rory, confident his winger could track Rocket down.

Rocket felt a slash on his right leg at the top of the circle. The winger wasn’t able to keep up — they didn’t call him the Rocket for nothing!

He took it on net. The goalie came out to challenge. The left defenceman broke away from Rory and came across to head off Rocket.

Looking over his shoulder, Rocket saw Goldsy cruising into the zone, watched closely by the right winger. The centre had hustled back and had a stick on Rory.

Rocket faked a backhander to Goldsy, then made an unexpected power move on goal. The defenceman was surprised by his explosiveness, and Rocket was able to gain the edge. The goalie dropped into a butterfly a half-metre in front of his crease. He wasn’t giving Rocket much to shoot at, but Rocket figured any shot was better than nothing. He lowered his left hand and let the backhander go. The puck was still flying when the defenceman launched himself into Rocket’s back.

For a horrible second, Rocket thought he would crash into the post. His chest grazed the iron, and he tumbled to the ice behind the net, his momentum carrying him hard into the boards.

He heard a siren, and the crowd begin cheering loudly. Rocket looked at the net. The puck was nestled in the corner. Rory was holding his stick over his head in victory. He skated over to Rocket.

“Did you get a rebound?” Rocket asked, blinking a few times. He felt unsteady.

“Nope. All you. It was off the goalie’s mask and in,” Rory said. “My honour to assist on your second AHL goal —
this shift
!”

He helped Rocket up, then pounded him on the back of the helmet. Rocket wished he hadn’t. It made him even dizzier, and it hurt his neck. Goldsy and the defencemen joined in the celebration, and they all patted his helmet. Rocket almost fell. What was wrong with him?

Beauclair’s line had come out. Rocket gladly went to the bench. He needed some water. The guys were nice enough to hold out their gloves as he side-stepped his way to the middle, next to Rogers and Downey.

“Nice work,” Rogers said.

Downey reached a glove out and Rocket punched it.

When Rocket leaned forward to get some water, the spots came back. He waited for them to disappear. Weird. It was like he was fine one minute, and then he could barely stand up. He took a sip of water. It burned the back of his throat.

Nadav tapped him on the shoulder. “Bryan, can I run a few tests on you?”

“What for?” Rocket said.

“Have you had any dizziness or pain in the head or neck since that cross-check?” Nadav said. He was testing Rocket for a concussion.

The last thing Rocket needed was to start the third period alone in the dark room, especially after scoring two goals. He had to stay in the game. “Not really. It hurt, though,” he said.

“Where are you?” Nadav said.

“On the bench,” Rocket said.

“No. I mean, name the building.”

Rocket hesitated. The name had somehow slipped his mind. “It’s called … I just moved here so …” Then it came to him. “Pinewood Barns Arena,” he said with relief.

“What day of the week is it?”

“It’s … Sunday,” Rocket said. He had to dig deep for that one.

“What city are you in?”

“Pinewood.”

“Repeat these five words: table, dog, green, boat, shoe.”

Rocket repeated them.

“Do you remember the hit?”

“It was the last shift. Rory passed to me.”

“What was the score before you got your first goal?”

It was close. He knew that. Rocket looked up at the scoreboard: 2–0. He’d just gotten two goals so … he gave his head a shake. He was being stupid. “Zero, all.”

“What were the five words I asked you to repeat?”

Rocket was stumped. “Green … Um, I wasn’t really listening.”

Barker came over. He didn’t look happy.

“Goldsy needs a new stick,” he told Nadav. “Leave Rockwood alone. I told you he’s fine.”

“He took a hit to the back of the head or possibly the neck,” Nadav said softly. “I’m worried about a concussion.”

“Come on,” Barker said. “When did hockey become a game for little boys who need their mommies?”

“Protocol is that we—”

“C.C. is out with a pulled groin,” Barker cut Nadav off savagely. “We’ve only got three centres. He’s fine. Look at him. He’s totally okay. Rockwood, you’re okay to play, right?” He glared down at Rocket.

“I’m good,” Rocket said.

“Told you. Now get that stick for Goldsy and then check on C.C.,” Barker said. He turned back to the ice. “Call the hook, ref!” he yelled.

“Tell me if you get a headache or your neck hurts — or if you see spots or become sensitive to light,” Nadav said. He patted Rocket’s shoulder pads and left.

“Pick up the physical play, little boys,” Barker said. “We need to crush their spirit.”

“I wouldn’t mind crushing his spirit with my physical play,” Rogers whispered to Downey.

Downey chuckled.

Rocket contented himself with a long sip of water. Barker wasn’t winning any friends on the team. He was a rookie coach, and as he himself had said,
“Rookies should shut up and do their jobs.”

The coaching staff, along with Floyd and Blywood, crowded around C.C. in the dressing room after the game.

Rocket put on his sweatshirt. He’d already showered and dressed.

“I told you not to overuse him,” Floyd said to McGill.

“We’ll monitor the situation for a few days,” McGill replied.

“The playing minutes should’ve been managed better,” Barker said.

“Exactly,” Floyd said.

Rocket felt bad for McGill. Floyd didn’t seem to like him too much.

“You want to come for a workout tomorrow morning?” Rory asked Rocket.

“Definitely,” Rocket said.

Not actually true. Right now, all he wanted to do was sleep for a week. But if Rory was working out — and he’d played in the NHL — then Rocket should, too.

“See you tomorrow, nine o’clock,” Rory said. “Good game, bro. Two goals and an assist — awesome.”

In the third period, Rocket had stayed on the first line with Goldsy and Rory. He’d gotten an assist on Goldsy’s one-time slapshot from the top of the circle.

Rocket said goodbye to Rory and went to the door.

“Good game,” Goldsy called out to him.

“Oh … th-thanks,” Rocket stuttered. “Good game to you. Too.”

Goldsy turned to talk to Rory.

Rocket wondered about himself sometimes. He’d sounded ridiculous. Nice of Goldsy, though. Maybe Rocket had made a good impression today — a real step toward being accepted on the team.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Nadav said to him at the door.

“Don’t think so,” Rocket said.

“Didn’t you have your first of these tonight?”

Rocket had no idea what he was talking about.

Nadav gave him an odd look as he pulled a puck out of his pocket. “Your first goal? This is the puck.” He held it up. There it was, in gold lettering, the date and
Bryan Rockwood, 1st AHL Goal
.

“You’re the best!” Rocket said, reaching for it. “I’d almost forgotten.” In truth, he was having a hard time remembering the actual goal.

“I want to check you out tomorrow. I know it’s an off day, but is there any chance you can come by?” Nadav said.

“I’m working out with Rory at … in the morning.” Rocket couldn’t remember what time Rory had said.

“I’ll see you then,” Nadav said.

“Hey, you,” Floyd yelled from across the room. “Get me a bottle of water. I’m parched here.”

Nadav grimaced before reaching for a bottle. Rocket didn’t envy him.

As he headed to the lobby, Rocket got more excited with each step. Cool that Megan had seen his first goal — his first two. And he was glad Ritchie and the kids had been there, too.

The lights in the lobby were bright, and he had to put a hand across his eyes. His head swam, and he leaned against the wall.

The feeling passed almost as fast as it came, but Rocket was unnerved all the same. He felt good. He did. So, was it a concussion? The symptoms — dizziness, nausea, forgetfulness, sensitivity to light — seemed to come and go.

After a game like tonight’s, an injury would be an epic disaster. He’d finally had the chance to prove he could play. Plus, C.C. was going to be out for a least a few games. The team needed Rocket, and he didn’t want to let them down.

Leona saw him first. “There’s Rocket Man!” she shrieked.

She and Rafa hopped up and down, their hands over their heads.

“Hey, guys,” Rocket said. “Enjoy the game?”

“We very much enjoyed your goals,” Ritchie said.

“Did you get my puck?” Leona said.

He’d forgotten. Rocket felt the puck in his pocket — his first AHL goal. “Of course, I did,” he said. He gave it a last look and handed it to her.

“Mine doesn’t have writing,” Rafa wailed.

“You can share them,” Rocket said.

“This is mine,” Leona said to Rafa.

“Not fair,” Rafa whined.

“Children can be a great joy in life — and a great big headache,” Ritchie said, laughing.

Megan spotted him. “Great game, Bryan. Wow! So glad I came. André and Maddy will be mad they missed it. Two goals! That was a dirty hit, though. He should’ve been kicked out.”

Rocket rubbed the back of his neck. “Tell me about it. I was seeing spots there for a while.”

“Do you think you have a concussion?” she said.

“Megan, have you met my Pinewood family?” Rocket said quickly. “Ritchie, Rafa and Leona.”

“Bryan gave me a puck with writing on it,” Leona said.

Rafa scowled deeply.

“I’ll write on your puck, too,” Rocket told him.

Rafa stuck his tongue out at Leona, and she stuck hers out back.

“I am Ritchie. Very nice to meet a friend of Bryan,” Ritchie said.

Megan smiled at him. “Nice to meet you, too.”

“We should get going,” said Ritchie. “Our bus will be here soon. We will see you at home, Bryan.”

“I can give you a ride,” Megan offered.

“It is okay. You have a long drive home,” Ritchie said.

“It’s no problem,” Megan said. “I can fit five people.”

Rocket was too tired to turn down a lift. “Once Megan decides something, you won’t get her to change her mind,” he said. “Let’s get these two brats home.”

“He’s the brat,” Leona said, pointing at Rafa. “I’m a wonderful child.”

Megan laughed, and they all headed to the door, the two kids chattering away.

Rafa and Leona kept at it all the way home, with Megan and Ritchie laughing the entire time. Rocket had trouble following the conversation, and he was so drained from the game, he could barely keep his eyes open.

Megan pulled over in front of their building.

“Again, thank you,” Ritchie said. “I hope you will be able to return for a long visit soon. I think Bryan will be lonely here without his friends or family.”

“I will, thanks. Hopefully soon. School is busy, but I’ll figure out another game, maybe on a Friday or Saturday.”

“Wonderful. I will be looking forward to it,” Ritchie said. He and the two kids got out.

“Bye, guys,” Megan said. “Take care of Bryan for me.”

“I’ll be home in a bit,” Rocket told them.

He yawned deeply as they left.