Making the Cut (11 page)

“Goal!” Charlie declared.

“Assist!” Slogger yelled.

They slapped each other’s shin pads. Before they had a chance for another rush, Trevor blew his whistle to start the skills competition.

Charlie tied his skate laces together and tossed them over his shoulder. He forced himself not to get too stoked about the skills competition finals. He’d made two events: stickhandling and skating. The race had been total mayhem, with him, Savard, Gabriel, Jake and Tan all within two metres of each other at the finish. Their race had been so fast that all of them had made the final except Tan. Now he had to go to the other rink to face the winners of the other teams. Slogger had come second in the hardest shot, behind Burnett, and was waiting for him at the door.

“Come on, superstar. It’s starting in, like, ten minutes,” Slogger said.

Charlie zipped his bag up, grabbed his stick and walked to the door. “Slogger, you’re always holding me up,” he said.

Slogger grunted in reply and followed him down the hall.

Trevor happened to be at the front doors and held it
open for them. “I understand I’m holding this for two finalists,” he said.

Charlie blushed, but Slogger wasn’t too embarrassed to speak.

“Charlie’s in two, although he shoots like a wuss so I had to step in there.”

Trevor laughed. “Remember that Gretzky didn’t have the most powerful shot and he managed to score a few.”

“Not sure that’s good advice for the hardest shot competition, Trevor,” Slogger said.

“I guess you’re right. Pound the rubber, Slogger.”

“Will do.”

They made their way to the other rink in no time and headed to the dressing rooms.

“We’re in room 2 or 3,” Charlie said. “Any preference?”

“I’ve always liked even numbers,” Slogger said.

Charlie pushed the door opened and instantly wished he’d opted for the other room. Jake and Zane were there, Jake for skating and Zane for shooting. Savard and Gabriel were to his right and he chose to sit next to them, but the second he sat down they both got up.

“Is it something I said?” Charlie joked.

“Not this time,” Gabriel quipped. “The ice is ready. What took you so long?”

“I had to wait for Slogger,” Charlie said.

Gabriel’s eyes narrowed. “Do you expect me to believe that?”

“I might have been a bit slow getting my skates off,” Charlie said guiltily.

From across the room, Jake called out, “Good luck out there, boys. Should be fun.”

Charlie wasn’t sure who Jake was talking too. It couldn’t be him.

“Stickhandling is yours all the way, J.C.,” Jake said.

Savard seemed uncertain what to say. “We’ll see. Lots of competition.”

“Good luck in the race,” Jake continued, in a friendly tone.

Savard nodded.

“I’ll try to get a second then,” Jake said.

“Yeah. Sure. Good luck.”

He opened the door for Gabriel and followed him out.

Jake leaned back against the wall, eyes half-closed, his lips closed tightly together. “And of course good luck to my good friend Charlie Joyce. Two finals! My, my, well done. I’m so proud of you.”

Charlie started to tighten his skates.

“And a hearty good luck to you too, Slogger — the boy with the nifty nickname. Hey, Joyce, I hear your good buddies, Scotter and Nicholas, also made the finals — for Team 3, but still …” He shrugged.

Jake and Zane got up. “Delightful chatting with you both, as usual,” Jake said. Zane smirked and followed Jake out the door.

As soon as it closed, Slogger said, “I don’t know how you put up with him. I’d lose my temper so quick … I’d
probably have been kicked out of camp by day two.”

Charlie finished tying up his skates. “I don’t understand Jake,” he said. “He’s the classic bully, but he doesn’t get anything out of it. He actually can be funny — you saw him — and at school he’s sort of popular. Only he always seems to make sure most people don’t like him, even when he has a chance to make friends — even with the girls at school. I just figure it’s better to ignore him as much as I can. I can’t compete with him on the jerk front.”

“He’s the best jerk around,” Slogger agreed, standing up. “You ready to rumble?”

“Why not?”

He and Slogger had barely left the room when Charlie spotted Corey running down the hallway. He slowed to a walk and grinned awkwardly.

“I think there are lots of seats, Corey,” Charlie joked. “No need to hurry. The arena seats something like five thousand people.”

“I know. I’m going now, to watch I mean.” His face was very pale, and he looked uncomfortable.

“How’d the skills go?” Charlie asked, and instantly wished he could take it back. Corey was in street clothes, which meant he hadn’t qualified for any finals.

“Broke my stick warming up,” he complained. “Had to use a piece of junk. The flex was way too high. Then during the race I caught a rut in the corner. This is the worst camp ever. I lost my concentration and choked in the stickhandling.” He looked off in the distance. “I’ll see you back in the room. Hope you do well.” He pushed
between them and walked down the hall.

“That dude is from another planet,” Slogger said.

Charlie didn’t respond. Slogger didn’t know about Corey’s relationship with his father. He bet Corey wasn’t looking forward to the next phone call.

As soon as Charlie stepped onto the freshly flooded ice, Scott and Nick came racing over.

“Competition must be weak if you two made it,” Charlie said.

“What event are you in?” Nick asked.

“Stickhandling and skating,” Charlie answered. “Slogger’s doing battle in the shooting competition.”

“Shooting competition?” Scott said. “That’s too bad. I’m in that too, so you have no chance.”

“I will destroy you,” Slogger said to Scott, sounding like a robot.

Scott shook his head and his face got all pouty. “I know guys on Team 1 get cranky if they lose. Should I just let you win?”

“I think that’s a great idea,” Slogger said.

They both laughed and slapped each other’s pads.

“Let’s warm up and scare the competition,” Scott said to Slogger, and they went to retrieve some pucks from the net.

“Ready to stretch the legs?” Charlie said to Nick, and the two of them skated around the rink a few times before Trevor blew his whistle and called them all to centre.

“The order of events is as follows: stickhandling, shooting, and the speed race. For the first two events
players go in team order, with Team 1 going first, Team 2 second, and so on. The speed race is two heats of six skaters, and then a final. Give me the stickhandlers down at the far end.”

Jen and Trevor set up the pylons in a zigzag pattern. When they were done Trevor skated over.

“Team 1 is up. Who’s going first?”

Savard, Gabriel and Charlie looked at each other. No one wanted to go first. It was always better to relax a bit at the beginning by watching. Finally Charlie volunteered. He slid a puck to Trevor and stepped forward.

“You know the drill. Same as before. Stickhandle between the eight pylons and shoot the puck into the net. Miss the net and the clock continues. Cool?”

Charlie nodded.

“On your marks … get set … go!”

Charlie pushed the puck ahead of him and carved around the first pylon at the top of the circle, puck on his backhand. He whirled towards the second and carved around that, puck on the forehand. He got into a rhythm, and by pylon six he felt great, even faster than he’d done it last time. He zoomed around seven and powered on to the last pylon.

A groan went up in the crowd, and none louder than Charlie’s. The puck had stuck in a patch of wet ice that hadn’t dried from the flood. Charlie had to backtrack and retrieve it. He fired it into the net to stop the clock, even though he knew it was over. The delay would kill him; he couldn’t win now against guys like Savard and Gabriel.

He whacked the boards and sat back on the bench. Scott and Nick came over.

“Not sure if stopping the puck like that was a good idea, Joyce,” Scott said.

“Leave the cheering up to me,” Nick said. “You totally suck at it.” He patted the back of Charlie’s helmet. “That was bogus. You should get another try. You were the first one. The ice will be perfect when the other guys go.”

Burnett was standing nearby. “I thought you had it going, Charlie. Tough break.”

“Don’t think I could take J.C. anyway,” Charlie said. “This is his event.”

In fact, Savard was flying along as they spoke, proving Charlie right. He avoided the spot that tripped Charlie up by going a touch wider, and then fired it into the net. Gabriel went next and narrowly missed matching Savard’s time by a tenth of a second. No one else was close. Third place went to Pete, who really impressed Charlie with his agility.

The shooting competition was fun to watch, especially with Scott’s antics, although after the stickhandling, Charlie was a little down. After every shot, the speed was posted on an electronic display. Each player got three shots. In the end, Burnett edged out Slogger for the win — and Scott came third. That cheered Charlie up; and he still had the race to redeem himself.

The racers crowded around Trevor.

“You’ve already done this with your teams, but I’ll go
over the rules once more to be clear. You start on the goal line. Twice around, but the finish line is centre, so it’s a bit more than two laps. No pushing. No cutting off. Careful around the nets. Fastest three players go into the finals. I put all the names in a hat, and pulled them out at random for the heats. Line up in the order your name is called, first player closest to the boards.

“Give me Jake, J.C., Pete, Nick, Mathew and Charlie. The rest of you will go in Heat 2 — you can hang at centre and cheer. When I blow my whistle, the race is on.”

Charlie assessed the competition quickly. He didn’t know Mathew, a kid from Team 4. The others he knew were good — all powerful skaters. From the last race, he knew that once you got behind it was hard to pass guys, especially around the nets. He decided to get as close to the front as possible, and then hope for an opportunity to jump into first at the end.

Trevor held up his arm. “On your marks …” he said, “get set …” He raised the whistle to his lips.

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Charlie exploded off the line, and took about ten short strides to get going. By the top of the circle he was at top speed and was practically flying when he crossed the red line. He was totally focused on being in front for the first turn. At the blue line he risked a quick glance to his right. Pete and Jake were a step behind, and maybe he had half a body length on Savard, but not much. Nick was just behind him too. This was perfect, he thought. As long as he was in front of Savard, even by an inch, he
could turn tight around the net and they’d all have to slow down.

He could hear the others breathing hard. Charlie ducked his left shoulder and, with his skates lined up one behind the other, carved around the net. His inside shoulder glanced off the netting, but it didn’t slow him down. The guys in the stands were making tons of noise, cheering the racers on, and that fired Charlie up as he powered back. He’d done it. He was in first!

Charlie knew his speedy opponents wouldn’t be far behind, and he’d probably surprised them by going out so fast and aggressive. They might also think he’d get tired. Well, they were in for another surprise. This was going to be his race. Charlie carved around the net and began the last lap. Savard and Jake were only a step or two behind him, so he didn’t dare slow down. He lengthened his stride and forced himself to ignore the burning sensation in his lungs. He’d gone out hard. The last half-lap was going to be a killer.

The guys watching were really going crazy now, and the Heat 2 players were pounding the ice with their sticks. Charlie focused on the skates cutting into the ice behind him as he geared up for the final turn. Savard was on his outside shoulder. Charlie figured he’d try to make a move now, given there was only one turn left. Charlie drifted a little to the outside to force Savard wide and then carved hard around the net. It worked. Savard had to move over. Then, out of nowhere Jake tried to sneak inside Charlie and Savard. He got by the post, but the angle was too sharp and his skates gave out and
he crashed into Charlie, who, in turn, crashed into Savard.

All three players wiped out, with Savard getting the worst of it because he was closest to the boards. Charlie and Jake sandwiched him and then fell on top. Charlie heard the other three skaters whiz by.

“What was that?” Charlie heard Savard sputter. “Get off.” He slapped Charlie in the facemask.

What?
Jake had caused the pileup. Then another glove hit him in the small of the back.

“Joyce cheats again,” Jake said, as he struggled to his feet. “Knows he’s going to lose and trips me. Typical!”

Charlie threw his gloves under Jake’s chin and knocked him backwards. “You’re the one that smashed into me. I’m so tired of your garbage, it’s not funny.”

Jake two-handed Charlie in the chest and he fell over Savard’s outstretched foot and tumbled to the ice.

“Get off me, already,” Savard yelled.

“Yeah, get off the dude,” Jake jeered. He held out his hand and pulled Savard to his feet. “That’s the second time this guy has messed with you in a race. I’m sick of him.”

Charlie jumped to his feet, and was about to charge Jake when Trevor intervened.

“Hold on, guys. I want to speak to Jen. She probably got a better view from the stands. It looked like someone was cut off and …”

It was too much for Charlie to take. How could he say “someone,” when it was so obvious that Jake had cut him off.

“It doesn’t matter,” Charlie said to Trevor through
clenched teeth. “Disqualify me. I couldn’t care less about this stupid race or this stupid camp. Forget all of you.”

He pushed past Savard and skated towards the door leading to the dressing room. Catcalls and jeers fell from the stands, and Markus and Zane were dissing him as he left the ice. The race was the final straw. How could anyone not see what Jake did? And what was with Savard punching him in the face? He lost all respect for him as of that moment.

Slogger, Scott and Nick were at the boards. “Meet us outside,” Scott called to him.

He nodded, but didn’t stop to talk. He was done talking, done trying to impress the coaches, done trying to do anything. He was done period. He’d get these last two days over with and go home.