Making the Cut (2 page)

The bus drove through a stone gate and under a wrought iron archway with a banner that read
Northern University
. It followed a tree-lined circular drive bordered by ivy-covered buildings and stopped in front of a squat, two-storey building. The door opened, and a blond-haired woman wearing a blue sweatsuit, the letters
YEHS
written across the chest, leaned up the stairs and waved a clipboard in the air.

“Grab your things and come meet me in front of this building,” she said cheerfully. “And welcome to the Youth Elite Hockey School.”

The boys on Charlie’s bus let out a big cheer and began to file out. Charlie was relieved to finally get off. He’d been late getting to the bus. He and Pudge had been playing some shinny at the rink the day before and he’d forgotten his sticks in Pudge’s garage. They had to turn back and get them, and Charlie was lucky to even make it. Unfortunately, the only seat left was in the first row next to one of the coaches. His name was Trevor, a
former Northern University player. He was a cool guy, but it was hard to sit with a coach for five hours. It was also painful to hear Jake behind him, talking to a bunch of the guys, pretending to be so nice. It seemed like at least half the players on the bus were Jake’s friends by the time they arrived.

“Listen up, boys. Can I have your attention please?” The blond woman held up her clipboard. Most of the boys kept talking. She didn’t seem too bothered by it. Slowly, she raised two fingers to her mouth.

Tweet! Tweet! Tweet!

It was the loudest whistle Charlie ever heard, and it worked. They all stopped. She smiled as if nothing had happened.

“Hi. My name’s Jen.”

“Hi Jen,” came some calls from the back.

“I know you’re all eager to get going, and excited about the next two weeks. We’re looking forward to working with you. I’ve been told you’re a very talented bunch, and the coaches have a fantastic program planned. All I need is a moment of your time so we can organize things. I’m the program manager, which means I’m responsible for making sure everyone gets to where they’re supposed to be. Of course, what that really means is that I give the orders and you obey.”

A loud chorus of protest was heard from the back. Charlie turned — Jake was in the thick of it, laughing and joking with the guys next to him. Charlie wondered if Jake knew them from before.

Jen cast a gaze their way. “I’m guessing you boys are going to be a problem.”

Charlie heard Jake’s voice above the others. “We’re as good as gold, Jen. I promise.”

Jen laughed and rolled her eyes. “I’m sure about that.” She pointed her clipboard at two large tables. “Over there you’ll see a list with room numbers. When I’m finished talking, I want you to go over in as orderly manner as possible, which probably means like a herd of elephants. Roommates are pre-arranged — no changes, don’t even try. Collect your luggage and put it in your rooms, and come back here. Please don’t unpack. You’ll have time for that later. You’ll then return to your bus to grab your hockey equipment and carry it across the field to the rinks. From there, I want you to all go to Rink 1 to meet the coaches.”

“Are we playing today?” Jake asked.

Jen shook her head. “I like your enthusiasm, but no, not today. Trust me, you’ll have plenty of time on the ice. After the coaches introduce themselves, I’m going to walk you through the program, provide an orientation of the campus, and then you can unpack and have dinner. You’ll be on the ice tomorrow.” She held her clipboard up again. “Ten minutes, gentlemen, and then I want you right back here.”

As predicted, most of the guys stampeded to the tables. Charlie hung back. It was a bit nerve-wracking having a roommate assigned to you. What if he got Jake?

“I don’t have to ask your name,” Trevor said, when Charlie got to the front. “Charlie Joyce.” He ran his
finger down the list. “You’re in room 20A — with Corey Sanderson.”

Nick and Scott were waiting for him by the bus. “So what rooms are you in?” he asked. “I’m in 20A.”

“I’m in 21A,” Scott said.

“What about you?” he asked Nick.

“22A. We’re all next to each other at least.”

“It’s like we’re a forward line,” Scott said, “and I’m the superstar and you two are my useless linemates.”

“Hey, Charlie. We should probably tell Scott that he can’t talk to us again until camp is over — and be gentle. He’s very sensitive,” Nick said.

“How about we dump our stuff in our rooms and then we talk about not talking to Scott,” Charlie said.

“Come to my room and we’ll talk about it,” Scott said.

“Sounds good,” Charlie and Nick chorused, and all three friends hauled their bags up the stairs to their rooms.

“I’ll be over in a sec,” Charlie said to Scott, as he pushed open the door to his room.

“You must be the one and only Charlie Joyce.”

His roommate came over and held out his hand.

“And you must be Corey,” he replied tentatively, giving it a shake.

“Guilty as charged.”

Charlie felt totally intimidated. He was supposed to compete against this kid? He was downright huge. Was he really only fifteen?

“I’m from Brunswick. Where’re you from?” Corey
asked.

His friendly tone put Charlie more at ease.

“I’m from Terrence Falls. It’s small. You wouldn’t have heard of it.”

“Sorry, but I haven’t. What league did you play in last season?”

“The East Metro — the EMHL.”

He nodded vigorously. “I know that league. Played in a tourney a few years ago against a team from there. You ever heard of a place called … now let me think … what was the name … I remember green sweaters …”

“It doesn’t matter,” Charlie said.

“The rink was red brick — an ‘old-school rink,’ my dad called it. Nice place too. I can picture the team in my head.” He looked out the window and then snapped his fingers. “Got it. Is there a Cliffcrest near you?”

“That’s like half an hour from Terrence Falls.”

“So I sort of know your hometown. Probably played there.” He sighed. “Been in so many rinks I can hardly remember them. Anyway, I took this bed, so why don’t you set up over there.”

Charlie put his bag on the far bed.

“You weren’t here last year, were you?” Corey asked. “I mean, I don’t remember you.”

“Nah. This is my first year.”

Corey nodded a few times. “This is my second. Got invited last year too.” He flopped on his bed. “I’m sounding like a jerk, I know.” He waved off Charlie’s protest. “If you have any questions, just ask. I know everything that goes on. It can get pretty intense,
believe me. Some guys totally crack under the pressure. I love it, though. We have two-a-day practices, along with fitness training. Fitness is my thing, so I’m ready. They take the conditioning part as seriously as the hockey, believe me. You get in shape or they’ll kill ya.”

“You look like the fitness part won’t be a problem.”

Corey grinned and patted his stomach. “My dad’s a workout maniac. He’s got me going to the gym like four times a week, and we got this personal trainer to work on strength and flexibility. I do all sorts of hockey-focused training. This year we worked on quick starts. Built up my legs. Scouts look for that.”

“For what?” Charlie asked, bewildered by the non-stop talk.

“Acceleration. Forwards who can drive past a defenceman.”

“Have you met a scout?”

“A few,” Corey replied nonchalantly. “My dad deals with them, mostly. There’ll be scouts at the Challenge Game, and some at a few practices.”

“The … what game?” Charlie asked.

“Forgot. You’re a first-timer. At the end of camp they pick the top twenty players, plus goalies, and we scrimmage. It’s not a real championship … but it’s cool.” He laughed. “I’m gonna head down to the bus. Once I get talking hockey … feel free to tell me to shut it. I won’t mind.”

Ring, ring, ring
.

Corey reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone. “Hi, Dad. We just arrived. Hold on.” He put his
hand over the receiver. “Good to meet ya, Charlie. I just gotta talk to my dad for a sec.” He opened the door, then stopped. “Forgot to ask. What position do you play?”

“I’m usually centre. Not sure where I’ll play here, though.”

“I’m centre too. Hope we get on the same team.”

With that, he left. Charlie tossed his bag on his bed, and went to check out his friends’ rooms. They beat him to it, however. The door flew open and the pair of them walked in.

“Could your roommate be any bigger?” Scott exclaimed. “He’s like a small mountain.”

“His name’s Corey,” Charlie said. “I think he’s a fairly serious player. He was invited here last year, and he’s been scouted and has a personal trainer. Anyway, he said that they work us pretty hard.”

“As long as they feed us, I say bring it on,” Scott said.

“We should get going,” Nick said. “Jen told us to hustle.”

“Don’t be such a worrywart,” Scott said, folding his arms across his chest. “We’re superstars now, dude. We can do what we want.”

They looked at each other.

“I kind of want to go,” Charlie offered.

“Me too,” Nick said.

Scott thumbed towards the door. “I think it’s clear that we can’t be told what to do — so let’s hurry before Jen yells at us for being late.”

Charlie was the last one out. He hesitated briefly before closing the door.

Hard to believe it was all about to start.

Charlie waited as the crowd of players walked through the arena doors. He’d overheard someone say there were four rinks, and this one had five thousand seats and was used by the university hockey team. At the top of the stairs he stopped to look for Nick and Scott. He also spotted Jake talking to a bunch of guys.

“Why is it that every kid always wants to sit in the back row?” Jen asked him. “Never could understand that. Follow me — we need to fill up the front.”

Charlie felt incredibly dorky following Jen. To complete the humiliation she lowered his chair and pointed to it. He heard some guys laughing.

Jen continued to corral the stragglers, directing them to the front row.

“Quiet down now, gentlemen,” she said loudly. “Here comes Coach Clark to introduce the staff.”

A buzz of excitement rose as the camp’s founder and head coach came through the dressing room tunnel and up the stairs into the stands to face them. Charlie had
read the camp website and knew all about him. He was a former NHL player, a rugged defenceman famous for big hits. He’d been coach of the university hockey team for the past twelve seasons. Seeing him in person, Charlie was struck by the intensity of his eyes.

Without warning, Coach Clark began speaking. “I’d like to extend a warm welcome to all of you, newcomers and returning players. This is the twenty-first year for the Youth Elite Hockey School — but judging from my grey hair I’m sure you know that.”

The players laughed politely.

“A lot of people like to focus on the star players who have been here. We’ve had forty-two NHLers through our doors, and almost two hundred fifty boys have played at the major junior or university level. Sure, I’m proud of that tradition. It’s not the point of this camp, however.”

Clark’s powerful frame and the serious way he spoke had caught Charlie’s attention, and he listened intently.

“You’re here because you earned it, because you represent the best fourteen- and fifteen-year-olds in the Eastern region. You’re used to being the best players on your team. So what we have here is an all-star team, and that means you’ll have a unique opportunity to test yourself against some serious competition. It’s not about winning or losing, or making it to the NHL. It’s about learning about yourself, learning how to compete and to improve, learning that you have abilities you’ve never had to use before because you could get by without them. Well, not here. Here you
need to get better, and you do that through hard work.”

“As many of you may know, we divide you all into four teams of twenty players each. Some boys take the division of players into teams too seriously, but I urge you not to do that. We try to match up players based on playing styles and complementary skill sets. Throughout the camp we may move players up or down depending on how they’re doing. Please, keep things in perspective, and don’t worry about where you’re placed. We’ve also been known to make mistakes in judgment, and you’ll have lots of time to prove to us what team you should be on.”

A smile creased his weathered face. “And believe it or not, you’re all going to have fun. This is an elite program, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be a good time too. So moving on, let me introduce the coaching staff. You’ve met Jen. She’s the program director, and essentially the boss here, so listen to her. Next to Jen is Trevor. He’s a former star player on the university team, and we’re thrilled to have him here to help coach. He’ll be working with everyone at some point. Trevor will also be running the fitness sessions. I understand the early morning runs are particularly fun, right, Trevor?”

The players groaned. Charlie wondered if he was serious.

Four men joined Clark on the stairs. He put his hand on the shoulder of the man next to him. “This is Coach Miller. He’s handling Team 1.”

Miller barely cracked a smile.

“Coach Miller was assistant coach with me on the
Junior National Team, and he also spent eight years in the NHL as an assistant, where he won a Stanley Cup ring with the Dallas Stars.”

Miller held up his right hand. There it was — a real, honest-to-goodness Stanley Cup ring. Charlie stared at it in disbelief. He whispered to the guy next to him, “I wouldn’t mind having one of those.”

Jen shot them a look. “Pay attention, please,” she hushed.

Charlie felt himself blush, and he slouched down in his seat.

“Team 2 will be led by Coach Binns,” Clark continued. “He’s worked at all levels of the game, including the Swiss Elite league.” Next he pointed to a tall man with a shaved head. “Coach Williams will handle Team 3. I think he’s been coaching at this camp since we opened. Is that right?”

“You and I have been here a long time,” he replied.

“And finally, we have Coach Palmer with Team 4. He’s a Major Junior A coach, and also coached in Europe for several seasons.”

Clark folded his arms. “As I said, this camp is about testing yourself against the best players in your age group. Again, I want to stress that it is not all about making Team 1. Having said that, work hard, compete hard, learn and listen — and if you’re lucky, you may get picked to play in the Challenge Game.

“I’m going to turn you over to Jen now as she has some information to go over with you. Things start tomorrow morning, so get a good night’s sleep and I
know I speak on behalf of the entire coaching staff when I say we look forward to working with you all.”

Jen held up her hand. “Please stay seated. I’m going to go over some orientation, hand out the info packages, which have the schedules — very important — and also assign you times for your fitness tests tomorrow.”

The coaches waved and walked down the stairs, disappearing into the tunnel leading under the stands. Jen and Trevor began opening some boxes.

While he waited for them to start, Charlie looked around. The arena seemed brand new, with a fancy scoreboard at one end and box seats. The ice glistened under the lights. When he turned to his right he did a double take — J.C. Savard and Burnett were here too!

Not that he should be surprised at that. Savard was probably the best player he’d ever faced, and Burnett was a high-scoring defenceman with a wicked shot. He’d gone up against both of them when he played for his high school team, and also in league play.

That ruled out playing centre for Team 1. Savard would be one centre and Corey would be the other.

Jen stood up, holding a pile of blue folders.

“All I need is your absolute attention for twenty minutes, and then you’re free to cut loose before dinner.”

A few guys, led by Jake, let out a big cheer. She laughed.

“I need those twenty minutes, though. Coach Clark is a stickler for time. Don’t be late for anything. Please. So I need to go over the schedules.”

She walked over to Charlie.

“Would you help me pass these folders around?” She gave Charlie and the guy next to him two large stacks.

Charlie was totally embarrassed. It made him feel like the teacher’s pet. When he got near the back row, he heard someone snicker. He didn’t need to look to know who it was.

“Thank you very much, Charles. I really appreciate it,” Jake said to him as he took a folder.

Charlie gritted his teeth and continued.

“You’re very good at this,” a kid next to Jake said. “Well done, laddie.”

He’d been on their bus, and Charlie had noticed him joking around with Jake.

Charlie didn’t answer. Better to ignore them, and who cared if Jake found a few jerks to hang with. Only a jerk would hang with Jake, anyway.

“Let’s hurry it up, please. Just hand out the folders, and return to your seats,” Jen said.

He hesitated. Was she talking to him?

“You, in the blue sweatshirt. Let’s move it.”

Charlie handed out the rest of the folders and got back to his seat at fast as he could.

“I really enjoyed that,” the other boy said to him as he sat down.

Charlie figured he’d gotten hassled a bit too. “I got a few compliments on my handing out skills,” he said.

“Maybe I need to work on mine. I dropped a bunch.”

“I’ll give you some tips after this,” Charlie said.

The boy laughed. “I’m Ben Slogen. Most guys call me Slogger.”

“I’m Charlie Joyce … I guess most guys call me Charlie.”

“Then that’s what I’ll call you.”

Jen interrupted their conversation. “Please turn to page one. This is your schedule, the single most important piece of paper in your life. There’s lots of free time to relax and hang out with friends, but we’ve also put a great deal of effort into maximizing the time you have here. I won’t say it again: Be on time! Okay?”

“Yes, Jen. We promise.”

Everyone turned. That was Jake, and the guys were all laughing. Charlie rolled his eyes. It wasn’t that funny.

Jen seemed to think it was. “Thank you so much, kind sir. I know I can count on you. I hope the rest of you are as dedicated to punctuality. Now, as you can see, wake up is at seven o’clock — and yes, that’s in the morning. Everyone better remember to set their alarms.”

Charlie forced himself not to groan out loud. Getting up in the morning wasn’t exactly his strong suit. Most days he had to sprint to make his first class. No one else reacted, so he kept quiet.

“We have fitness testing to start the day tomorrow, and then your first practice is in the afternoon. Check the bulletin board in the cafeteria for a list of names and which rink you’ll be playing in …”

Charlie looked at the schedule. It was packed — hockey, hockey, and more hockey.

Could he compete with these guys? Slogger looked like a serious player too. He was taller than Charlie and
had thick legs and broad shoulders.

They’d find out soon enough.