Rebel Power Play (11 page)

The sound of grinding wheels caught his attention, and as he turned towards the sound he saw Zachary flying down the hill on his long board, hands behind his back, holding what looked like a piece of wood.

“Yo, Zachary. Slow down or you’ll get a speeding ticket.”

He did a big curve to stop. “Got a present for you, dude,” Zachary said. He dropped the piece of wood to the pavement and kicked it, and it rolled over to him. “Not the newest model, and it’s a bit hacked up. I asked my bro and he said he didn’t need it. It’s a pretty quick board. The wheels are a bit too hard for my taste — they’re like an 85A — gotta be careful on turns big time and slow down cause you can seriously drift. And maybe the wheels are a little small. Good for quick starts though. The bushings are kind of shot, but a little oiling and they’ll be cool.”

Charlie picked it up and spun the wheels a few times. The wheels were worn and the deck had definitely seen better days. The rails were scratched and big chunks were missing from the nose. He didn’t care, though. It was a long board. Now he could race with his friends on The
Hill, or keep up when they went for a ride.

“Zachary, thanks. That’s totally cool.” He hesitated before adding, “Are you sure it’s okay? I mean, are you sure your brother doesn’t need it …?”

“The dude’s got like five boards. He wants you to have it.”

Charlie was totally blown away. He held out his fist and Zachary punched it.

“We’d better hustle,” Charlie said. “We’re late already.”

Zachary set off down the hill. Charlie picked up his short board and hopped onto the long board to follow. He couldn’t believe the difference in acceleration.

“I see the guys at the gas station,” Zachary said over his shoulder.

Charlie merely nodded in reply. He had to concentrate. He wasn’t used to this kind of speed. Zachary pulled in first, and Charlie rolled in behind and stopped next to Pudge.

“You’ve finally decided to join the long board world,” Pudge said.

Charlie flashed a grin. “Not the latest model, but Zachary’s brother had an extra.”

“Cool. I was getting tired of waiting for you all the time.”

“Me too,” Charlie said, and they both laughed. “Nice of Mr. Stanton to let us use his gas station.”

Pudge held his hands out. “Just another satisfied customer at Bruno’s Bistro.”

Charlie looked up to the sky. “Perfect weather. Who wouldn’t want their car washed by the members of the famous Terrence Falls Rebels?”

“We could use the money,” Pudge said. “Brent can get us team helmets for around eighty bucks each. That’s a serious discount, but once you add the tax, it still comes out to about a thousand dollars. Every bit will help.”

“Helmets would be nice,” Zachary said. “Right now we look like we’re from ten different teams.”

Matt, Scott and Nick joined them.

“How much have we raked in so far?” Charlie asked.

“Forty dollars,” Pudge said.

“Halfway to a helmet,” Zachary said.

Julia and two other girls crossed the street and walked towards them. “Hi guys,” Julia said. “What’re you up to?”

As soon as they got close, Jonathon sent a short blast of water at them, which garnered screams of protest.

“Thought you were a car,” Jonathon said. “Sorry about that.”

Julia grabbed a clean towel from a bucket and wiped her face dry. “Very funny. Now, why are you hanging out at Stanton’s Gas Station on a Saturday morning?”

“We just love the gas station atmosphere — all that drippy oil,” Scott said.

“Looks to me like a fundraiser,” Julia said.

“Okay, we’re busted,” Jonathon said. “Car wash fundraiser it is.”

“How’s it going?” she said.

“We were just discussing finances. We’ve amassed forty dollars to date,” Jonathon answered.

She whistled. “In how long?”

“Two days,” Scott said.

The girls laughed.

“I’m being rude,” Julia said. “I think some of you may know Rebecca from school. And this is Alexandra. She’s new in Terrence Falls.”

They all said hi. Charlie had seen Rebecca before. She’d played on the Terrence Falls hockey team with Julia. Alexandra was an attractive girl, quite tall, but maybe not as pretty as Julia. As usual, Charlie was tongue-tied around the girls, but Jonathon and Scott had no such problem and kept the girls laughing with a steady stream of jokes. Two more cars came, and Charlie busied himself with washing and drying. When no one was looking, Julia hooked up a spare hose and took revenge by dousing Jonathon. Charlie laughed and turned to wave to a departing customer. That’s when a blast of cold water hit his back.

He spun around. Julia and her friends were doubled over.

“Why me? I’m innocent!” he said.

“You’re all guilty,” Julia said, and she promptly sprayed him again. Everyone was laughing now.

“We should get going. Have fun, boys,” Julia said.

Charlie went to dry himself off. Julia came over. “What time do you play tonight?” she asked as Charlie was folding some towels.

“Game’s at 7:30.”

“I play at 6:00. I’ll stick around and watch.”

“Great. It should be a real test — the Snow Birds.”

“Good luck.”

He waved to her as she left, and then braced himself for some ribbing as Scott came over.

“You ever seen Alexandra before?” he asked.

Charlie shook his head. “Why?”

“No reason. I thought she looked familiar.”

“Did she look like a girlfriend?”

Scott gave Charlie a good-natured shove. “Maybe,” he said. “Maybe.”

Scott tossed a soapy sponge at Nick, who picked up a dirty bucket of water. He was about to toss it when Charlie intervened.

Business began to pick up and they washed a bunch of cars. Then a large, black truck sped over the curb, bouncing slightly, and skidded to a halt.

The screeching tires startled Charlie, and tinted windows made it impossible to see inside. Charlie’s heart sank when Jake, Thomas, Liam and Roscoe spilled out.

Through the driver’s side window a deep voice instructed them to “Make it shine, boys.” The window closed and the door opened.

Charlie guessed he was Jake’s father. He had his son’s jet-black hair and broad shoulders. He wore sunglasses, which he lifted to his forehead. A cigar burned between his thick fingers. As he closed the door a beer can tumbled to the pavement. He picked it up and tossed it back in the car.

“That was weird,” he whispered to Pudge.

“I hear he drinks a bit too much,” Pudge whispered back. “My dad … I heard him talking to my mom …”

Jake’s father spotted Pudge. He came over and shook his hand. “Nice to see you again, son. You haven’t been around much lately since you aren’t playing for the Wildcats. Is your dad well?”

“He’s doing good,” Pudge replied.

Charlie could smell the beer on his breath. For the first time he actually felt sorry for Jake. Must be tough to
have a father who drinks.

“Glad to hear it. Got to get to his restaurant again one of these days. Great guy — the best. Send him my regards.” He looked to his left. “Is that Mr. Danko?” He took a deep puff on his cigar. “Where’ve you been hiding?”

Matt shuffled his feet, clearing his throat a few times. “I’ve been real busy lately.”

“Well, don’t be a stranger. I remember when you used to practically live at our house. Speaking of which, your old man was helping me out not too long ago. I have some more work for him. My basement is a total mess. I need it cleaned out. Tell him I’ll call. I’ve been out of town on business, but I’ll make some time. Tell him, okay?”

Matt’s face was beet red. “Okay,” he said.

Jake’s dad blew a smoke ring. “So who’re you playing hockey for this year?”

“Playing with these guys — the Rebels. This is a team fundraiser.”

“That’s cool. I’m glad I stopped. Glad to help out. Jake was filling me in. You’re like an expansion team. Might not win too many games this year. But hey, hockey’s supposed to be for fun, right?” He laughed deeply and winked.

Charlie had mixed feelings. Jake’s dad didn’t seem like such a bad guy. But then why embarrass Matt like that in front of all the guys?

“I’m just gonna get some mints inside,” Jake’s dad said. “Jakey, why don’t you catch up with your buds?” He walked inside the garage.

The two groups faced each other. Charlie worried
about a brawl. Mr. Stanton would be furious.

“This whole feud thing is getting stale,” he said, hoping to defuse the tension. “We’ll just wash this car, and you can go on your way. Save your trash talk for another day.”

“Joyce, you always underestimate me,” Jake said. “I wanted to say how much I admire your courage … yes, that’s the word … your courage … for starting up the Rebels. I was saying that to Liam not five minutes ago, wasn’t I, Liam?”

“Absolutely. It might even have been three minutes,” Liam said.

Charlie didn’t respond. If he reacted, his friends would do the same, and a fight would be inevitable.

“I hear your sweaters have a unique design — and what colour would you say they are?” Jake asked.

“A brilliant pink, I believe,” Liam said.

“Technically, I think it’s ballet pink,” Jake said.

“Whatever colour, it makes you sick to look at them,” Thomas said.

“Not as sick as watching them play,” Roscoe said.

That broke them up.

“Jake, you’re a broken record,” Charlie said.

“And you’ll have a broken neck after our game on Sunday,” Jake said.

“Why don’t we settle it now?” Scott said.

“Forget him,” Charlie said. “He’s not worth the effort.”

“I’d like to oblige you, dude, but not with Dad around,” Jake said. “But I’ll be sure to run your head through the boards, just for old times’ sake.”

Charlie, Dylan and Zachary finished washing the
truck.

Scott snorted in disgust and walked away, wringing out a wet towel. Charlie knew what Scott really wanted to wring out!

Jake’s father returned.

“Matt and Pudge, really nice to see you again. Hope you can come by the house,” he said. The two boys nodded.

“Here’s ten bucks for the wash. Looks like you did a bang-up job. Thanks.”

They watched in silence as the truck pulled away.

“I say rip that money up. It might have touched Jake,” Scott said.

“Second that,” Matt said.

Charlie ignored their suggestion. It would be pointless.

“Car,” Pudge shouted.

Charlie wandered over with the towels. His English teacher and former hockey coach stepped out.

“This must be my lucky day,” Hilton said. “I was just thinking about how I’d find the time to clean this filthy vehicle, and I come across a fine crop of hockey players providing that very service.”

“Step aside, Mr. Hilton,” Charlie said. “We’ll get this done in no time.”

The arrival of his former coach made him forget about what had just happened. Everyone seemed in good spirits as they washed the car. The twins sprayed the outside. Next, Scott, Nick and Matt attacked it with large foamy sponges. The twins gave it another soaking, and Charlie, Pudge, Zachary and Dylan dried it off.

Hilton caught Charlie’s eye.

“How’s the team doing?” he asked.

He stopped drying and stood up.

“We won our first game against the Hornets — barely, but we won. We also beat the Tornadoes 3–0. We lost to the Tigers 5–3, but it was close. The next two games will be the real test. Tonight we play the Snow Birds, and then the Wildcats on Sunday.”

“Sounds as if you’re off to a solid start.”

“We could use a few more guys. We tend to run out of steam by the third period, what with only two forward lines. The Snow Birds will kill us if we slow down. I think we need to play defensive, conserve our energy until later in the game. Otherwise, we could be in trouble.”

“Can I make a suggestion?”

“Of course.”

By this time the others had formed a semi-circle around Hilton.

“Send the puck in deep as often as you can, and only one forechecker. The other two forwards line up across the blue line, the defence a bit back. I’ve seen them play. Their defencemen love to rush. Stop them before they get going and force some passes. Clog the middle and make them go outside. You should get some good chances off turnovers.”

“I think we’re finished your car,” Pudge said.

Hilton examined it. “Looks great. So what’s the cost for this service?”

“We accept any size donation,” Scott said, “and have I ever mentioned what an amazing privilege it was to have such a superb tactician behind the bench for the high school hockey tournament?”

“Easy does it, Scott,” Hilton said, laughing.

“It’s ten dollars,” Charlie said, giving Scott a dirty look.

Hilton pulled out his wallet and handed Charlie a twenty-dollar bill.

“I’ll get you the change.”

“That’s okay. Good luck in your game tonight,” he said, getting in his car and driving off.

Elated by his teacher’s generosity, Charlie counted the money they’d made so far — $285. At this rate, by the end of the day, they’d easily be more than halfway to paying off the helmets. Another car pulled in. Things were definitely beginning to look up.

Charlie watched the Snow Birds as he rounded centre. They were intimidating. J.C. Savard was firing shots at the backup goalie. The Rebels would have to shut him down or there’d be little chance of winning. Only five games into the regular season and he already had a big lead in the scoring race. Burnett was stretching by his bench. The big, rangy defender was a deadly scorer in his own right. And if that weren’t enough, their acrobatic goalie, Alexi Tolstoy, busy scraping his goal crease, had let in only one goal this season.

As he circled behind the goal he spotted Julia with Alexandra and Rebecca. Julia waved, and he waved back. He noticed some kids from school in the crowd. Nice of them to support the team, he thought. He picked up some speed, found a puck, and flicked it in the air, bouncing it off the blade a few times. He felt silly showing off, but why not? The nerves were kicking in and it took his mind off the game.

Bhrrr!

They all took a few final laps after the buzzer and then crowded around Martin.

“This is it,” Charlie said. “We’ve worked hard to get
here. Got some wins, but they mean nothing if we can’t bring it tonight. The Snow Birds were last year’s champions. Let’s show them who’s going to win it this year. Gloves in the middle, boys.”

Their gloves piled on top of Charlie’s.

“Go, Rebels, go!” they chanted, tossing their gloves in the air.

The crowd was getting excited, clapping and cheering for both teams.

“Go for it, Charlie!”

That sounded like Julia. He forced himself to focus. His line was starting. J.C. Savard was waiting at centre.

“Have a good one,” Savard said, tapping Charlie on the shin pads with his stick.

“You too,” he said, bending down for the draw.

He wanted to establish himself physically right off the bat. When the puck dropped he tied Savard’s stick up and pushed hard into him. Savard was caught off guard. He fell back, which allowed Charlie to kick the puck to Scott.

Good start, he thought, spinning to his right, looking for a pass. Instead, Scott feinted his way and fired it across the blue line to Nick. Charlie quickly changed directions, and Nick slipped a pass to him just over the red line. He cut sharply on his right skate and headed up ice. For a moment he was tempted to try to split the defence. Hilton had warned them about getting caught. Rather than risk turning the puck over in the neutral zone, he fired it into the right corner and continued in on the forecheck.

He glanced back with satisfaction. Zachary and Jonathon were also following Hilton’s advice —
standing at the blue line with Scott and Nick plugging the middle. Burnett had retrieved the puck. Charlie closed in, determined to make him pass. Burnett retreated behind his net, standing tall to survey the scene. Without warning, he took off to his right. Charlie wasn’t fooled. He shifted across, laying his stick along the ice to cut off the passing lane. Burnett dumped it off to his right winger. Charlie merely continued that way and lowered his shoulder, crushing the puck carrier into the boards. Burnett snuck in and retrieved the puck, with Charlie close behind. Burnett decided to set up again and went back behind his net.

Charlie settled in the slot and waited. This time Savard circled behind the net and took the puck. Charlie skated over, forcing Savard to drop it to the trailing Burnett. Then, to the delight of the Rebels supporters, Charlie poke-checked Burnett before he could take two steps. The speedy defenceman recovered quickly and retreated to the safety of his net.

Charlie guessed Burnett would try to leg it out himself. He passed to his defence partner in the left corner. Charlie pretended to follow, never taking his eye off Burnett. Sure enough, the puck came back, and Burnett promptly skated up the right side.

Charlie met him at the top of the circle. Zachary stepped up also. Cornered, and with nowhere to go, Burnett tried a wild pass to Savard up the middle. Nick was right on him, and the puck jumped over Savard’s stick and down the ice.

The Rebels supporters roared their approval, clapping and chanting, “Re-bels! Re-bels! Re-bels!”

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The ref’s whistle signaled icing. Charlie headed to the bench.

“Keep up the pressure,” he said, as Matt jumped over the boards to take his place.

“Awesome shift, boys,” he said on the bench. “We play a disciplined game and we’ll be in this. The turnovers will come. Get the first goal, and this game’s ours.”

Charlie was excited to see the old Matt back — aggressive on the puck, strong at both ends, lightning fast, and ready to play the body. After a dump-in by Dylan, he delivered a massive hit. The defenceman crumpled to the ice, holding his ribs. The whistle stopped play. The Rebels players drifted to the bench to wait for him to recover.

“Way to get in there, Matt,” Charlie said. “I’m lovin’ this defensive coverage. We’re playing smart hockey. They’re totally confused.”

“One shift at a time,” Matt said, slightly winded from the hit also. “No letting up — not one second. These guys are no big deal.”

“Let’s keep the energy level high for the first half of this period, and then settle back,” Charlie said.

“We can play these guys,” Matt said. “Don’t be intimidated. You hit them — they fall. It’s simple.”

“Forwards are playing awesome,” Scott said, slapping Matt’s shin pads. “They can’t make a move. I haven’t had to do anything yet — and I’m liking that big time.”

The Snow Birds player got up slowly and, with the help of two teammates, skated to his bench. Players from both teams banged their sticks on the ice. The crowd clapped politely.

Matt’s line stayed on for the faceoff. He won the
draw back to Scott, whose one-timer nearly beat Alexi. The Snow Birds showed how good a team they were, however. The centre didn’t let Matt get to the net, and the right defenceman in front tied up Pudge so he couldn’t get the rebound. The other defender slapped the puck out of harm’s way. The left winger carried it up to the hash marks and then chipped it off the wall and out of the zone, relieving the pressure.

The rest of the period went according to plan. The Rebels didn’t score, although they had some chances, and the Snow Birds didn’t score either. Charlie couldn’t have been happier. They were in the game; and better yet, the Snow Birds couldn’t crack their defensive scheme. Martin barely worked up a sweat. Time and again the Snow Birds turned the puck over in the neutral zone, or they iced the puck after forcing a pass.

“I’m feeling it, boys,” Scott said, as they changed ends for the second period. “They’re freaked. I’m telling you. They don’t have a clue. Just keep dumping it in and forechecking like mad.”

“No penalties is huge,” Pudge said. “We can’t give them a power play.”

“Pudge is right,” Charlie said. “We didn’t have a penalty that period. Even strength we can play with them — no problem.”

His line was up. Charlie had to wait at centre because the Snow Birds were still huddled around their coach. He was drawing a play on a clipboard, poking his black marker forcefully several times. The referee’s whistle interrupted, and they filed onto the bench, with Savard coming out for the faceoff. The ref dropped the puck too hard, and it bounced higher than usual. Both players
missed it, their sticks striking each other instead. It bounced to Charlie’s left and he was able to whack it between the Snow Birds defencemen and down the ice. The Rebels fans went crazy. They loved seeing Charlie beat the great J.C. Savard on a faceoff.

“Sharpen your skates, Savard. You’re looking clumsy out there.”

“It’s only gonna get worse, Snow Birds.”

Alexi stopped the puck behind his net, leaving it for Burnett. Charlie set up for the forecheck. What happened next took him, and his linemates, completely by surprise.

Savard swung behind the net and carried the puck up the right side. Charlie shifted across to cut him off. Unlike during the first period, Savard skated as hard as he could and made no attempt to pass to the right winger. Instead, once Charlie had committed, he dropped it back to Burnett. Charlie peeled over, but before he could get close, Burnett slid a pass to his left winger cutting in from the boards, who in turn hit Savard breaking out up the middle. The Snow Birds fans started to make some noise — finally their team had broken through the Rebels defence unhindered. Savard darted to his left to keep away from Christopher, who had pressed forward. Robert had stayed back, however. That left a seam between them. Savard cut back to the right, shrugging off Christopher’s stick check. From there it was a footrace. Robert tried valiantly, but Savard was too fast and by the blue line he was in alone.

Ten feet from the net Savard cut right, the puck on his forehand. Savard then swept his stick across the crease — except the puck wasn’t on his stick. Martin fell
for the fake, dropping to his knees to cover the right side. Savard even pretended to take a backhand. The puck slid, untouched, inside the left post.

Charlie slapped the boards with his stick. That forecheck had been totally lame. He’d allowed them to get the puck out of their zone at top speed, something that hadn’t happened once the entire first period.

The Rebels quickly learned that the first period strategy was no longer working. The Snow Birds used quick passes to get past the first forechecker, and then hit the man cutting up the middle. At the eight-minute mark of the second period, Savard set up another goal, breaking across the line and finding Burnett with a perfect pass at the top of the right circle. He buried a blast low to the stick side to make it 2–0.

Charlie was on the bench at the time.

“Zachary, Jonathon, we need to change things up. They’re killing us with the centre circling the net and dropping it to the defenceman. One forechecker can’t cover both players. Let’s go with two forecheckers in deep and stop the play before it develops. We need to stop the breakout pass up the middle.”

“But if we miss, don’t we risk an odd-man rush?” Jonathon said.

He was right — but what else could they do? Charlie had no time to consider. He needed to tell the defence what they were doing, and someone had to tell the other forward line.

“We’ll just try it,” he said. “I think it’ll work.”

He shifted down the bench to tell Scott and Nick. Christopher dumped the puck in deep, and the twins, tired after a long shift, came over for a change. Scott and
Nick went out before he had a chance to talk to them. On his way back, Zachary and Jonathon changed for Dylan and Pudge. “Just great,” he said to himself. Scott and Nick had no idea what Zachary and Jonathon were going to do. But at least he could tell the rest of his teammates.

“Listen up,” he said to the players on the bench.

“Centre! Centre!” Matt yelled. He was coming off for a change.

Charlie had to go on. As planned, Zachary and Jonathon pressured the Snow Birds defence. Charlie stayed back and picked up a check. Good thing too, because the defenceman with the puck saw the two wingers coming. He shouted to the centre, who, instead of circling the net, cut up the middle. A quick pass and he was storming towards the Rebels’ end.

To make matters worse, Scott and Nick were in the middle of the neutral zone, as they had been all game. Charlie tried to cut him off but the centre was too quick, and he sent a crisp pass to the left winger streaking down the boards. Nick was caught flatfooted, and the forward had a clear cut breakaway almost from centre. At the hash marks, he froze Martin with a quick feint and then snapped a hard wrist shot to the stick side, just over the blocker. Martin barely moved. The puck sneaked under the crossbar, ricocheting off the inside support bar, knocking Martin’s water bottle to the ice before bouncing straight out. At first Charlie thought it had hit the crossbar. The ref was right there, however. He blew his whistle and pointed at the net. As he circled around, Charlie smashed his stick on the post. The shaft snapped in two. He threw it in disgust against the boards.

“Awesome shot, man,” he heard the Snow Birds centre say.

“The dude didn’t even move,” said another player.

“He didn’t even see it,” the goal scorer boasted.

They all laughed, slapping gloves.

Charlie felt like smashing the goal scorer to the ice. The guy was so full of himself. He picked up his broken stick.

Zachary had skated over to him. “Hey, dude, you need to keep cool. We’re still in the game.”

He suddenly felt ridiculous. He’d just broken a three hundred-dollar stick!

“Sorry, Zachary. I just lost it. I’m good. But how messed was that?”

“I thought you told the defence what we were doing.”

“I tried but they went out before …” He stopped. “Ref, can we get a time out?”

The referee blew his whistle. “Time out … Red …?” He looked at Charlie. “Your sweater is red, right?”

He was in no mood for jokes about the colour of his sweater. He nodded and went to the bench. Then he explained the new forechecking strategy.

“Let’s try to slow them down,” Pudge said quietly.

“We’re letting them take it to us,” Scott said. “We gotta be more aggressive.”

“Crank up the heat again,” Matt said. “First to the puck every time.”

A few more clichés were offered, but Charlie could see that no one really believed they could win — and neither did he. The team’s confidence was shattered, and the game became a laugher for the Snow Birds. The puck
barely left the Rebels’ zone, as if the Snow Birds were on a perpetual power play. Charlie was relieved when the buzzer finally sounded to put an end to his misery. The final score was 7–0 — a massacre.

Charlie was so embarrassed he couldn’t look the Snow Birds players in the eye when shaking hands. He skated to the bench to help carry the extra sticks.

“Can you think of something good to say after that?” Pudge asked. He reached for an empty water bottle.

“How about we were lucky to lose by seven.”

“Not very inspirational.”

“I don’t feel inspired.”

Pudge punched him lightly on the shoulder pads. “It’s not your fault, Charlie.”

“I couldn’t think of any adjustments. Hilton’s strategy worked perfectly in the first period. When they changed their breakout, I couldn’t get the guys organized. I ended up making things worse, confusing everyone. I still don’t know what we should have done — how inspiring is that? What about the next time we play them? The score’ll be 20–0.”