Undergrounders (7 page)

“I’d like to. Thanks for asking. But I don’t have equipment and …”

“That’s no problem,” Lou practically exploded, laughing and slapping his thigh. “The sponsor provides the pants and helmet, and I put three boys and a daughter through hockey. I got enough gear at home to dress ten teams. You need shoulder, elbow and shin pads, right?”

I felt dizzy.

“How about a jock strap. Some boys are particular about using someone else’s. Is that a big deal for you?”

I shook my head slightly.

“Tremendous. I’ll see you there Tuesday night. Practice is at Win Hadley Memorial Arena at eight. Do you need a lift?”

This was insane!

“We can drive him,” Rasheed said.

“Tremendous again. Looking forward to seeing you, Jonny.” He waved and began walking away. “Have fun, boys!”

“This is great,” Rasheed said to me. “Where do you live and we’ll pick you up.”

“Are we gonna play some hockey?” Derrick said. “Hurry up, you two.”

“Hold your horses,” Rasheed said.

I figured the best thing was to agree and just not show up. “My house is kinda far away. Why don’t I meet you here?”

“My dad won’t mind picking you up. Are you sure?”

“Positive. I hang at my uncle’s a lot … after school.”

I was getting to be a fairly pro liar.

“We’ll meet you here at seven, then.”

“Come on, sticks in the middle,” Collin said. “This time I’m playing with Jonathon,” he said.

My head was really spinning. I’d actually been invited to try out for a real hockey team. I knew I couldn’t play, but it was fun just to think about doing something other than hawking for change at the Market and dealing with Fitzy and Will — and just about everyone at the Underground.

I got my stick and followed Collin to the other end. I decided not to think about it until the game was over.

The puck squirted to the boards and I raced over to get it.

Will stuffed himself into his sleeping bag and forced his way in between me and Rose. I pulled my sleeping bag up to my chest — it was too small to go higher — and I shook my shoulders as hard as I could. The cold in my body wouldn’t go away.

“Stop shaking, Mouse,” Will said. “You’re so bloody annoying.”

I was too cold to care. Rigger had let us in an hour early, and we were all crowded together in our store to try to stay warm. It had been brutal today. Even Reggies weren’t going outside, and I hadn’t hawked a cent.

“I can’t feel my feet,” J.J. whimpered for like the hundredth time and he rubbed them together.

“Quit squirming!” Will yelled.

“Could you stop spazzing out?” Rose said. “You’re more irritating than the both of them put together.”

“You’re the spaz,” Will shot back, and he pulled his sleeping bag over his head.

“So lame … so lame,” Rose said. She rolled over on her side.

It got quiet again, and naturally I thought about the practice tonight. I’d obsessed over it all day: should I or shouldn’t I? I’d even sharpened my skates again. Every time I convinced myself not to go, I’d think about it
again. The shinny game had been so fun. To be able to play hockey for real would be too awesome.

Will lowered his blanket. “If you kick me again I’m gonna pound you, J.J.”

J.J. was crying — as usual.

“Congratulations, jerk,” Rose said. “If you’re so tough why don’t you kick an executive out of his store.”

Will pulled his blankets over his head, but not before kicking J.J. with his boots. J.J. whimpered and moved over.

I couldn’t take it. I had to leave. “I’m gonna go see if Lewis is back,” I said, jumping to my feet.

“He ain’t there,” Rose said. “I just walked by his store.”

My legs were stiff and it hurt to stand. My feet were tingling too. “Whatever. I’m not going to lie here all night and freeze to death.”

“So what’s the plan, Mouse? You going to a hotel?” Rose mocked.

“I’m going to play hockey.”

I didn’t mean to say it. It just came out.

Rose sat up. “You think it’s smart to go outside? I know you like hockey, but that’s downright stupid.”

“I got asked to play, so I’m going to.”

Will’s head popped out from under his blankets. “Goody-goody for you,” he said.

“Who are you playing with?” Rose pressed.

“Some guys I met at the rink.”

“You’ve been playing hockey with Reggies?” Will said.

“Not good,” Rose said. “They’ll turn on you, trust me. I’ve seen it a million times. They don’t put up with street kids — or anyone who ain’t like them.”

Since when did Rose look out for me?

“They aren’t like that. They invited me to practice tonight — no big deal.”

“You’re dumber than I thought,” Rose said, and with that she rolled on her side away from me.

I left.
She
was dumb. They all were. She was right about Lewis, though. He wasn’t in; and that couch looked crazy comfortable. But I couldn’t go in without permission; he’d kill me. Rigger was camped out on his chair, and he’s the last guy I wanted to talk to. I put my head down and walked by.

“It’s a thousand degrees below zero out there, Mouse. Where’re you off to?”

“I’m playing hockey.”

“What? Are you nuts?”

“It’s not outside. I’m not stupid.”

He grinned real big and flicked his eyebrows a couple times at me. “Don’t forget us Undergrounders when you’re in the NHL.”

I grinned. “I’ll get you a front-row seat.”

“How about a private box?” he called out, as I started to climb up.

• • •

As I waited at the rink, there were moments I almost started whimpering like J.J. My feet were frozen, and I couldn’t feel my hands either. I had to get my
equipment from my hiding place, and then walk to the rink, and I almost quit a few times, but freezing to death was better than huddling in the Underground listening to J.J. snivelling and Rose and Will being idiots.

A blue van stopped in front of me and the side door flew open.

“Sorry we’re late, Jonathon,” Rasheed said. He seemed embarrassed. “I promised to clean my room and sorta forgot. Mom made me finish.”

“I just got here myself.”

“Well, get in. It’s freezing.”

“Open the trunk for him,” the driver ordered.

“Sorry, Dad,” Rasheed said. He hopped out and took my bag and stick without asking and tossed them into the back. He looked at me kind of strange and said, “Go on in.”

The van was incredibly warm, like a furnace. Every part of my body relaxed, and I swear I could have laid down on the floor and gone to sleep right then and there. But his dad jolted me awake with a question, which I should have expected because adults are always firing questions at kids.

“So what school do you go to?” he asked me.

Every Undergrounder had an answer to that question in case a cop or some nosy do-gooder Reggie hassled you.

“I go to Glenwood, sir.”

He laughed. “That’s not far from the train station, right? And you can call me Rick, although I appreciate the manners.”

Suddenly I smelled food. Rasheed was eating a sandwich — tuna. I hadn’t eaten today. Money was too tight.

“Where did you move from?” Rick asked.

The smell made my head swim, like when you’re sick and you feel all floaty.

“Jonathon, I was asking where did you move from?”

Luckily I had to cough, and I added a few more to give me time to think. “We lived in Brentwood, sir … I mean Rick.”

“So not so far away. We went camping near there two summers ago. Remember, Rasheed?”

“Wasn’t that the place with the rocky beach?”

Rick grunted. “I think you need to forgive me for that already.”

Rasheed laughed. “Never. Too much fun bugging you about it.” He pulled on my sleeve. “Lamest holiday ever. The beach was full of rocks and the water was ice-cold. We didn’t go swimming the whole week.”

“Are you eating, Rasheed?” Rick said. He didn’t sound mad, though. “You have to eat something before practice.”

Rasheed stuffed the sandwich into the bag. “Mom knows I hate tuna. I’m not hungry, anyway. And besides, we can get burgers at Johnny’s after.” He pulled on my sleeve again. “Have you been there?” I shook my head. “Best burger place in the world. We gotta take Jonathon to Johnny’s, Dad.”

He laughed. “We will, but not tonight. At least eat your banana.”

“Do you like tuna?” he asked me.

“Sure.”

I might have said that a bit too loud. A soggy piece of bread would have been okay, let alone a sandwich.

I couldn’t slow down and probably looked like a massive pig. The sandwich disappeared big-time fast. Rick and Rasheed talked about the team while I ate. The Rangers had been together for three years, but after last season four of their best players, including Matthew, had left to play for the Red Wings.

I felt something poke me in the ribs. Rasheed put his finger to his lips and tossed a banana onto my lap. I polished that off and gave him the peel, which he held up so his dad could see it in the rear-view mirror.

“I finished the banana,” Rasheed said to his dad. “What should I do with this?”

“We’ll get rid of it at the rink. We should be there in ten minutes,” Rick said.

“Can you turn on some tunes?” Rasheed asked.

I leaned back. My hands were getting their feeling back. I wished I could have said the same for my feet. They weren’t going to thaw out for a while, for sure. Still, I wasn’t complaining. I was fed and mostly warm. I closed my eyes and listened to the music.

• • •

My heart started racing. Where was I?

“Jonathon. Jonathon. Long day at the office?”

The voice seemed to come from far away.

“Practice time.”

Someone was shaking me — Rasheed. I snapped out of my fog and remembered where I was, then stumbled out of the van behind him. Rick was holding my bag and stick out to me. I was so embarrassed I couldn’t look at him when I took my stuff. Falling asleep — what a doofus move. Rasheed must be thinking I was the biggest loser.

I followed Rick and Rasheed to the rink, my nerves getting worse with practically every step. I couldn’t believe this was really happening. This was crazy, going to a hockey practice, as if I were a normal, everyday kid, as if I had a home, parents, school, friends.

But to be honest, I wanted to make this team more than anything. I couldn’t imagine my life without it, going back to the Underground and admitting I didn’t make it to Will and Rose, so they could rub it in my face. I steeled myself as we went into the dressing room.

“Tremendous. You came,” Lou said to me. “I have some equipment for you to try on.”

I was totally wiped out. Lou had seemed so laid back the first time I’d met him. Now he was a certifiable maniac, making us skate in circles, backward and forward and sideways and jumping. My legs were limp as spaghetti when he blew his whistle and waved us to the bench. I was a little irritated that I was the only one who seemed out of breath.

“I want to work on our power play a bit,” Lou said. “Give me Rasheed, Jacob and Derrick up front, with Collin and Peter on D.” He looked around and his eyes settled on me. “Penalty killers will be Michael and … Jonny as forwards, and Simon and Carlos on defence. Andrew can start in net for the power play; Nicholas, you be on the kill. The rest of you go on the bench for now.”

The other players scampered off the ice. “We’re having a ton of trouble breaking out of our end and getting into the neutral zone with speed,” Lou said to us. “We’ll go the whole ice; the team with the man advantage has the puck.”

Rasheed and his linemates skated to the far end. Lou tugged on my sweater and pointed at the whiteboard with a marker.

“Here’s our penalty-killing system. One man deep,
and he forces the play left or right. Second man stays at the blue line and looks to intercept a pass or force the play to the outside. If the puck gets past you, hustle back and set up the box. Got it?”

I nodded — but I most definitely did not get it. I knew the box meant the four penalty killers formed a box in our end in front of our goalie. Ron was a creep, but he knew a lot about hockey and he taught me stuff when we watched games on TV. I also remembered a few things my coaches told me. But we never had any systems. We just went after the puck.

Michael glided over. “I’ll be first in. You take the left point in our end.” He didn’t wait for an answer, and skated off.

Lou shot the puck down the right wall, and Michael took off after it. I followed, not too sure exactly where to go. Lou told me to anticipate the pass. Peter had it behind his net. Jacob didn’t look that eager, and I knew Derrick loved to carry it. I gambled on him and cheated his way. Then like a total doofus Peter passes it, and I’m right there to pick it off. I’m laughing it was so easy. Andrew came out to challenge, but I figured the short side up high was open — the puck banged off the post and in.

Lou blasted his whistle. He didn’t look too happy. “That was good … Michael, Jonny.” He pointed at Peter. “Maybe not so good on the breakout. Can we try again?”

Andrew shovelled the puck to Peter, and I drifted backward to the blue line. This time Derrick circled
behind the net and scooped up the puck. Michael cut left to head him off. Since Jacob was a pylon, I didn’t worry about him. For sure Derrick would drop it to Peter, and right on cue when Michael got near, Derrick dropped it. If Peter then passed it across to Jacob I’d have been beat for sure, but he tried to deke and I stripped him of the puck, beat the goalie on a backhand deke, and flipped it into the left corner.

Lou blasted his whistle — he loved that thing — and he looked real grumpy. “Which side’s got the power play?” Peter banged his stick on the ice, which made me feel kind of good. I’d burned him twice already.

Lou snapped his fingers. “I’ve got an idea,” he said with a sour face. “Let’s have Jonny on D this time. Peter, take a break.”

Peter stared at Lou, real unhappy. “I’ll get it next time,” he said. “The puck hit his skate by accident. I’ve got it figured out.”

“I just want to try it once,” Lou said. “No big deal. Have a seat on the bench and I’ll get you back in.”