Wingman On Ice (5 page)

They remained on the pond for almost two hours. Ms. Hudson and Jane skated together most of the time, holding each other’s
hands while they skated frontward and backward. Tod saw that Jane was having a lot of fun. Several other skaters stopped and
watched them. Indeed, Ms. Hudson was one of the best skaters who had ever appeared on their ice pond.

It was practically a show she and Jane put on for them. When they were finished, the people applauded.

Tod couldn’t get over it. Ms. Hudson! His fifth-grade teacher—a skater like that!

Tod practiced dribbling and passing on the ice pond with Snowball, Skip, and some of his other teammates during the week.
He managed to do better with his studies, too. In school he just couldn’t get over the sight of Ms. Hudson with her glasses
on, looking so much—well, so much like a teacher. You wouldn’t think
she’d
wear jeans and be able to figure skate so well.

In the game against the Trojans on January 26, Coach Fillis had Tod playing defense again. Tod tried his best to play his
position but he just couldn’t block his opponents with his body or intercept the puck with his hockey stick as well as he
should. The Trojans
scored two goals that they should not have, all because Tod couldn’t keep the man from dribbling past him as he swung around
from behind the net. Both times the Trojan skated up in front of the net and sent the puck blazing past Tim’s shin pads.

In the second period Coach Fillis didn’t play Tod at all. The coach had Bud Wooley substitute for him. Tod sat on the bench
and watched the remainder of the game with his heart hurting as it had never hurt before. This was the first time he had missed
playing. And he deserved it. He knew he did. He wasn’t playing good hockey at all.

“Cheer up, Toddy, ol’ buddy,” said Snow-ball as Line 2 came off the ice the first time that second period. “Look how many
times I’ve been down. And I still get up. Don’t take it so hard. That’s the way I look at it.”

“I guess that’s the best way,” said Tod gloomily.

But you don’t have a brand-new hockey stick resting in a closet at home,
he thought.
You don’t really care about whether you deserve to play with a new hockey stick or not. I made a promise I’d never play with
that stick until I deserved it. And I have to do as I promised myself. You don’t know that, Snowball. You don’t know that
I had wanted that hockey stick more than anything else in this world, and now that I have it, I can’t play with it because
of that promise.

Never make a promise like that, Snowball. Never.

T
he White Knights were losing, 4-3. They were receiving their first setback of the season.

Skip Haddock was having a field day of penalties. He was sent to the penalty box twice—once for bodychecking a player against
the boards, and again for lifting his stick too high and, in doing so, striking an opponent.

No one on the ice played harder than Skip. He was certainly anxious to pull the game out of the fire for the White Knights.

Tod watched him admiringly. Even Coach Fillis remarked about him.

But Skip’s pluck and energy weren’t enough. The White Knights fell victim to the Trojans 4-3.

In the locker room Coach Fillis praised Skip for his pluckiness, but reminded him about his penalties. “I don’t like unnecessary
roughness,” he said. “You can always play good, fast hockey without roughing it up. And a high stick in a scramble might tear
open a boy’s face. Remember that, every one of you.”

He also pointed out Tod’s mistakes. They were no different than before. Tod was a speedster on skates, said the coach, but
he still wasn’t able to stickhandle correctly. He still needed more practice. Especially in passing.

Practice,
thought Tod unhappily.
Probably I practice more than anyone else on the team now.

“I think you do better as a wingman, anyway, Tod,” said Coach Fillis. “You can get to the puck faster than almost anyone else
on the team. That’s really important. I’m sure that as time goes on you’ll make out fine.”

Tod thought of the coach’s kind words as he rode home with Biff. Mr. Fillis was really a good guy. He didn’t “chew you out”
for not playing well. He usually understood the reasons and tried to offer criticism that would help you.

Biff’s voice interrupted Tod’s thoughts. “Doesn’t your father like hockey, Tod? I’ve never seen him at our games.”

“He has to work Saturday mornings,” explained Tod.

“Oh, that’s right. He’s a fireman, isn’t he?”

Tod nodded. “Yes.”

Mr. Jones looked aside at Tod as he stopped at a red signal. “I heard that there
are plans for a Father and Son Banquet to be held soon, Tod. It’s going to be at the Packer Hotel for all the hockey players
and their dads. Think your dad would like to go to it?”

Tod shrugged. “Probably.”

“I think he would,” said Mr. Jones, moving the car forward again as the light turned green. “Don’t forget to ask him, anyway.
I’m sure there are lots of other dads who would like to meet him:”

Tod didn’t answer. Dad wouldn’t care about going to any Father and Son Banquet. He hardly knew any of the other dads and he
wouldn’t especially care to make new acquaintances. No, he wouldn’t say a thing about it to Dad.

“Hey, Dad,” said Biff. “I heard there’s going to be an Ice Show coming up, too. Have you heard anything about it?”

“Yes, I heard about that, too. Matter of fact, Tom Welling, the fellow who directs our hockey program, told me a few days
ago that plans have already been arranged.”

“Great! Are they going to get someone like the Ice Follies?” asked Biff.

“No. They’re going to get people from around town here. Seems that there are enough excellent skaters nearby who can put on
a good show, too.”

“I bet Ms. Hudson will be in it,” said Biff. “You’ve seen her skate, haven’t you, Tod? She’s terrific.”

Tod nodded. “She’s the best I’ve seen around here,” he agreed.

Thinking of her made him forget his sad thoughts, and he almost smiled. Ms. Hudson on skates. He certainly would never forget
her as long as he lived.

Tod knew there was exciting news the moment he entered the house. Mom’s face was lit up bright as a candle, and Jane’s round
face looked even brighter. Her big blue eyes were like brilliant moons. She began clapping her hands and dancing on her toes
as if whatever was making her happy just couldn’t keep.

Tod closed the door behind him and looked from Mom’s face to Jane’s. “Did somebody win a million dollars?”

Mom chuckled. “Not quite,” she said. “Tell him, Jane.”

“I’m going to be in the Ice Show!” she cried. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

Tod stared. “We were just talking about the Ice Show!” he said. “Mr. Jones said there’s going to be one. Who asked you?”

“Ms. Hudson,” said Jane.

“Ms. Hudson? She’s going to be in it, too?” Ms. Hudson seemed to be appearing in a lot of places lately.

“Yes. And she called Marylou Farmer, too. We’re going to start practicing tomorrow afternoon at Manna Rink. Oh, I can’t wait!”

Just then a car drove into the driveway. A few moments later Dad came in. He hardly had the door closed behind him before
Jane rushed up to him and spilled the happy news.

Dad’s lean face filled with pride. “When is the Ice Show?”

“February twentieth,” replied Jane. “I’ll be a wreck by then!”

Tod shook his head. You’d think Jane was in her teens the way she talked.

Dad removed his coat, cap, and boots and started to put them away.

“Well, guess I’ll have a chance, at least, to see my little girl skate,” he said. “Hardly have a chance to see Tod do his
stuff on skates. How did you make out this morning, son?”

“We lost,” said Tod. “Four to three. It’s just our first loss, though.”

Dad ruffled his hair, smiled. “Don’t be afraid to lose,” he said. “Everyone loses sometime.”

Tod remembered what Mr. Jones had said about the Father and Son Banquet. He looked at Dad. His lips parted. He almost mentioned
the banquet to Dad, then changed his mind.

No, Dad wouldn’t care about going. He didn’t care about meeting the other dads. Anyway, he had a lot of work to do around
the house … fixing the floors, the creaky steps. …

Dad turned and headed for the bathroom. Tod looked at Mom. She returned his look and smiled.

“As soon as Dad finishes, you’d better wash up, too,” she said. “First, though, get out of that hockey uniform.”

O
n Sunday afternoon Ms. Hudson drove up in her old car and picked up Jane. She had Marylou Farmer with her. Afterwards Jane,
in her breathless, excited way, told Dad, Mom, and Tod about all the men and women and boys and girls who had been at Manna
Rink to practice for the coming Ice Show.

“Marylou and I are the youngest ones in the whole show!” she said. “Isn’t that unbelievable?”

“It sure is,” replied Tod, and tried to keep from smiling.

Three nights a week—for almost an hour each time—Jane had to go to practice. Tod practiced hockey as much as he could at the
ice pond, strengthening his leg muscles, improving his wind, trying body checks, and above all, trying to get the feel of
the puck on his hockey stick.

Then for two days the weather got so warm that he and all the other skaters were afraid that the ice would melt. However,
the weather dipped to below zero after the second night, and their fears vanished.

Tod worked hard to improve his skill at stickhandling. He, Jack Evans, and Biff Jones practiced together most of the time.
He could play with those boys without feeling ashamed of his playing. Skip, Joe Farmer, and some of the other guys were too
good. He wasn’t as comfortable practicing when they were around. They played
with the puck mostly among themselves and gave him very few chances at passing.

On Saturday morning the White Knights played the eleven o’clock game against the Vikings. Coach Fillis had Tod back at the
right wing spot, with Jim Wright at left wing and Skip at center. Biff and Snowball played in their defensive positions.

Tod was happy to be on the forward line again. He felt better playing forward. When you feel better at a certain position,
you can play better. Tod knew he had to play much better if he ever hoped to use his new hockey stick. The season was moving
along rapidly.

Skip scored the first goal for the White Knights. Twice Tod had an opportunity to slip the puck past the Viking goalie, but
both times he failed. If he hadn’t pushed the puck too hard …

But that was his main trouble, not being able to control the puck.

The score was 1-1 until fifteen seconds before the end of Line 2’s time on the ice. Then Jack Evans poked in a goal to put
the Vikings in the lead 2 to 1.

The White Knights’ Line 1 tied it up at the beginning of the second period. Joe Farmer scored with an assist by Larry Thomas.

“Okay, you guys,” said Joe to the Line 2 players as Line 1 skated off the ice. “Let’s see you break the tie.”

“I’ll break it,” replied Skip.

Boy,
thought Tod,
he doesn’t think much of himself, does he?
From the second that the referee dropped the puck in the face-off, Skip was going to prove just what he said. He pokechecked
the puck, gave Jack Evans a body check that almost knocked
him down, then had the puck to himself. He dribbled across the Vikings’ blue line. Tod envied the way Skip stickhandled the
puck. He did it so easily, guiding the puck as if it were magnetized to the hockey stick.

Then Jack Evans dashed up from behind Skip. He shoved his stick under Skip’s and stole the puck! In a flash Jack brought himself
to a quick stop, ice chips flying from his skates. He turned and carried the puck back across the blue line, the red line,
and then the White Knights’ blue line.

Tod rushed him. Skip, who had skated back furiously, came at him from the other side. His leg shot in front of Jack and Jack
stumbled and went down sprawling.

Shreeeek!

Time was called. The referee tapped Skip Haddock on the shoulder and pointed to the penalty box.

“I didn’t mean it!” yelled Skip angrily.

The referee ignored him. He skated with Skip up to the timekeeper’s desk. “Tripping!” he said. “One minute!”

Tod saw the burning look Skip gave the referee as he climbed over the boards to the bench instead of going through the door.

With their opponents having one less player, the Vikings worked harder than ever to break the tie. The White Knights fought
even harder. Twenty seconds before Skip’s time was up, Tod passed to Biff in front of the Vikings’ net and Biff socked the
puck in for a goal.

There,
thought Tod.
At least I have one point, for an assist.
The one minute was up, and Skip returned to the ice. It was Line 3 that scored again for the White Knights, putting them
in the lead 4 to 2.

Then, during the second time around, the Vikings got a good passing streak and
knocked in two goals almost within a minute of each other. That was the best they could do, and the best that the White Knights
could do, too. The game ended with a 4-4 tie.

In the locker room Jack Evans grinned at Tod and patted him on the shoulder. “Good game, Tod. You really looked great today.”

Tod shrugged. “Thanks, Jack.”

“You really did, Tod,” said Coach Fillis, grinning. “You did a fine job of passing. Just keep that up.”

A warm feeling went through Tod. Maybe those hard practices during the week were doing him good at last.

In the game against the Spartans he played as he had never played before. Twice in the first period he passed for assists
that resulted in goals. Then, with twelve seconds to go before Line 2 had to get off the ice for the last time that first
period, Biff came
around the Spartans’ net. He passed to Tod who was in a good position in front of the cage, and Tod smacked the puck in for
his first goal of the season.

Coach Fillis shook Tod’s hand as the boys skated off the ice for the intermission. “Good going, Tod,” he said. “I knew you’d
be coming along. You’re a fast skater. Handling that puck takes time, and you’re catching on now fine.”