Making the Cut (3 page)

Charlie turned over, punched his pillow, and flopped back down. He was tired. Curfew was ten o’clock, but he’d been too stoked to fall asleep for a long time. Jen had warned them about being late, so he tossed the blankets off and forced himself to get up. Wouldn’t be such a bad thing to have a relaxing breakfast. Corey had told him all about the fitness testing, and warned him not to eat too much. He’d better tell Scott, not that he’d listen.

“Hey, Corey. Want to grab some breakfast?”

No answer. Corey’s bed was empty. Maybe he was in the bathroom?

“Yo, Corey. You ready to go?”

Again, no answer.

That’s when he noticed the alarm clock — 8:55. The bus was leaving in five minutes for the fitness centre. How was that possible? His heart pounding in his chest, Charlie whipped on his sweats and sprinted out the room.

A bus was pulling away as he bolted out of the building. He tore down the road waving frantically. The bus stopped and the doors opened. Jen stood at the top of the stairs, hands on her hips, one eyebrow raised.

“So who do we have here?” she asked, as he got onto the bus.

“I slept in … I guess,” Charlie stuttered.

“I guess you did,” she agreed. “First day — probably not the best start. What’s your name?”

“Charlie Joyce,” he said meekly.

“Mr. Joyce. Could you promise not be late again? Please. Then we can just forget about this little incident.”

“I promise. The alarm didn’t go off. I had some trouble figuring it out, and …”

“Consider it forgotten. Please have a seat. Driver, we can get going.”

More than a few guys gave him looks as he walked down the aisle looking for a seat. Scott and Nick weren’t on this bus. Who would he sit with? Near the back, a kid waved his hand and pointed next to him. Charlie made a beeline over and sat with a grateful smile. It was Slogger.

“You like to cut it close,” he quipped.

“Pathetic, I know,” Charlie said. “I was lucky to even wake up.”

“Not that lucky. Fitness testing can’t be all that fun.”

A shadow caught his attention. Jen stood next to him with her hand out. “Mr. Joyce, you forgot to give me your fitness test form.”

His heart sank. He’d left it in his room.

“I might’ve forgotten it … I was in a rush to get here and …”

She leaned down. “Mr. Joyce, please don’t be my problem kid. I always have one.” She reached into a folder and pulled out a sheet of paper. “I need you to try a little harder — everyone else got on the bus and brought their form, and I must have told you five times during orientation.” She took a deep breath. “Here’s an extra. Fill it out, and give it back to me at the Fitness Centre.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Jen is fine. I hate to think I’m old enough to be a ma’am quite yet.”

“Sorry about that … Jen.”

She went back to the front.

“Nice bed head, dude,” someone said, a few rows back.

Were they talking about him?

Charlie’s stomach growled. He’d slept right through breakfast. He lowered his voice. “Be honest. Is my hair that bad?”

Slogger made a sour face.

“I’m such a loser. Just once I’d like to be on time for something.”

As inconspicuously as possible he tried to straighten his hair with his fingers.

“Group 2, over to the mat area.”

He forced himself to his feet. Sweat poured down his forehead. He’d only just finished the stationary bike test. His legs were still quivering — now what?

He joined his group in front of Jen.

“Can I have your form?” she said to him.

She crinkled her nose and took the paper with two fingers. Some of his sweat had dripped on the page.

“Soggy form-itis — you are having an interesting day, Mr. Joyce.”

A tittering of mocking laughter sounded behind him.

“Divide into pairs,” she continued. “One guy is a counter — the other will be doing push-ups. I want proper form. The nose and chest must hit the mat or they don’t count. I’ll be watching, so no cheating. Do as many as you can in two minutes.”

They paired up quickly. As Charlie looked around for a partner, another player ran by and knocked Charlie into someone’s back.

“What’s your problem?” the guy snarled.

He towered over Charlie. It was the kid who was sitting with Jake yesterday at the rink.

Charlie saw Corey skid to a halt near the stationary bikes. Had he run into him? No time to figure that out, unfortunately. He had to deal with a more immediate problem.

“Sorry,” he said to him. “I … someone banged into me. I didn’t mean to … sorry.”

The guy grimaced. “Just watch where you’re going.”

“Mr. Joyce, you seem a tad confused,” Jen said.

Charlie stared back. What did she want now?

“I told you to get a partner.” She pointed at the big player. “Join up with Zane.”

Definitely not his first choice.

Zane glared down at him. “You go first. I’m still puffin’ from the bike.”

Charlie would have liked a rest too, but didn’t dare protest, not after bashing into him. Jen was tapping her clipboard impatiently. He dropped to the mat and took a few deep breaths.

“Go!” Jen ordered.

He was caught off guard and was the last to begin. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Jen write something in her notebook. Must be something about him. He picked up the pace. Charlie tried to do a hundred push-ups every morning, so he was pretty good at them. Eventually, his arms began to tremble under the strain. Two minutes must be almost up, he figured.

“Forty-five seconds left!” Jen announced.

Impossible! No way he could keep going.

“Third period, boys,” he heard Jen say. “Who’s got what it takes?”

Charlie summoned all his energy and pumped out another twenty. Sweat poured into his eyes and dripped onto the mat. He had to stop. His arms and chest were on fire. A few others were on their knees or even flat out on their stomachs. He forced himself up — ten more and that’s it, he told himself.

“The final fifteen seconds!”

He willed himself to do four more and then collapsed on the mat as Jen called out, “Time.”

“You did 81,” Zane said, lips pursed and eyebrows raised. “Not bad for a skinny guy.”

He wasn’t sure that was a compliment, but said,
“Thanks,” all the same.

Zane started off strongly. At 45 seconds, to Charlie’s surprise, he dropped to a knee and stayed there until the one-minute mark. He struggled to do a few more, then quit.

“How many?” he gasped.

“Forty,” Charlie told him.

“Add a few, will ya?” he said. “I suck at these.”

Charlie struggled with his conscience while he waited for Jen. Should he lie? Zane had been kind of nasty to him, but then again he had knocked into him. As she stopped before him, Charlie figured it wouldn’t hurt anyone to add a few.

“Who was your partner?” Jen asked.

“Zane. He did 65.”

Charlie felt himself flush and his chest begin to pound. He prayed she wouldn’t notice. Fortunately, she wrote the number without a word and then gave him his form.

“You boys go over to the bench jump,” she said, pointing to the far end of the gym.

“What did ya tell her?” Zane asked eagerly when they were out of earshot.

“I added 25,” Charlie whispered.

Zane looked disgusted. “Wilkenson was right. You are lame. That’s still way less than you. Keep your head up on the ice, doofus.”

Zane stomped off, leaving Charlie totally bewildered. A hand patted him on the shoulder.

“Why’s Zane mad at you?”

It was Corey. He was breathing heavily and his shirt was soaked in sweat.

“I … um, don’t exactly know.”

Corey whistled softly. “Careful with him. He’s a serious defenceman, and dirty as they come. He’ll put your head through the boards and laugh about it. I’ve seen him do it too.”

“Thanks,” he said wearily. Like that’s what he needed — more enemies.

“So how are you doing?” Corey asked.

“Okay, I guess — as long as Zane doesn’t kill me first. What about you?”

“I usually do pretty good at the testing.” Corey laughed and bounded off to the next station.

Where did he get his energy? Charlie felt all stiff and tired. Tough to jump out of bed and start exercising — and on an empty stomach. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the bottom of his T-shirt. One more station. Could he just get through it without messing up?

Charlie made sure to be first in line for the next rotation. He’d been late enough today to last a lifetime.

“Joyce, no butting. Get to the back.”

Zane pulled Charlie’s shoulder and pushed him aside. A few of the guys laughed openly. Charlie whirled around. Zane stared back with a goofy grin and puffed out his chest.

Trevor motioned Zane to come forward before Charlie could react.

“Here’s the exercise,” Trevor explained. “Start on one
side of the bench. When the whistle blows, you hop back and forth over the bench for two minutes.” He grinned broadly. “Hockey players need two strong legs and a brain. We’ll work on the brain part later. Now we test the motor.”

“Zane, you’ve been through this before. Show ’em how it’s done.”

As with the push-ups, he started out strongly and tired badly after the initial burst. He ended up with 74.

The instructor pointed at Charlie. “You’re next.”

“Bet the dude trips before he gets 10,” Zane said.

Charlie winced. That guy was becoming a curse. He readied himself, and focused on the exercise. Zane had obviously gone out too fast. He decided to keep a more even pace. The strategy worked. At the one-minute mark, he’d already blown Zane out of the water.

“You’re at 80,” Trevor encouraged. “Keep going.”

Charlie went faster. He’d show Zane. For the final fifteen seconds he went crazy, his feet flying back and forth over the bench.

“Time!”

Trevor put a hand on his shoulder. Charlie struggled to control his laboured breathing. “Congrats, Charlie. You just got the highest total today — 155.” He pointed to the next kid in line. “Let’s see if you can top that.”

No one did. The closest score was 118. A couple of guys looked at him differently, he thought. Not Zane, though. He made it clear he wasn’t impressed. Charlie spotted Scott and Nick sitting on a large mat, and joined them.

“How’d the fitness test treat you, dudes?” Charlie asked.

“I think I set a record at each station,” Scott said.

“A record for lowest score,” Nick said.

“And I bet no one will beat it for the rest of camp,” Scott answered proudly.

Slogger came over. “That’s enough exercise for one morning. I barely ate breakfast, and now I could eat a horse I’m so starved.”

“Please don’t mention food,” Scott said. “A horse would barely make a dent in my appetite. I need to swim in a sea of French toast, cereal, eggs and chocolate milk.”

Charlie rubbed his stomach. “Stop complaining. I slept in and missed breakfast. I’m gonna pass out if I don’t eat soon.” He suddenly had an odd sensation of being watched.

“Hey, Charlie. How did you do?” Corey asked intensely.

Charlie wondered where he’d come from. “Okay … I guess.”

“How many push-ups?”

He didn’t want to say in front of his friends. “Don’t remember exactly.”

“Did you do more than 70?”

Corey’s eyes were wide apart, his voice very serious.

“Maybe … a few more,” he said finally.

“What about the bench jump. Did ya beat 152?”

“I’m too tired to remember.”

This was a bit weird. He needed to change the subject.

“I should introduce you. Scott, Nick, Slogger, this is my roommate, Corey Sanderson.”

Corey immediately brightened up. “Good to meet you guys. How do you know each other?”

“I go to the same school with Scott and Nick, and Slogger and I met at orientation,” Charlie said.

“Gotcha. Cool.” He cleared his throat. “What positions do you play?”

“We’re defence,” Scott said, pointing at Nick. “But he’s kinda useless.”

Corey looked confused, as if he didn’t understand.

“I’m a defenceman too,” Slogger said.

Corey got up and laughed. “Great to meet you guys. I’ll catch up with you later, Charlie.”

He moved over to sit with some guys Charlie didn’t know. Nick nudged Charlie and looked at him intently.

“What?” Charlie asked.

“What’s with all the questions? Bit over the top, don’t ya think?” Nick said.

“I don’t really know him,” Charlie said. “He seems all right, though. A little hyper, maybe. But speaking of over-the-top behaviour, listen to this.” He was about to tell them about Zane when Jen called for their attention.

“Sorry for the wait. We had to tabulate the results. This year the player with the best fitness score wins a new Easton stick. Coach Clark wants to show you the importance he places on fitness.” A murmur rose among the players. “So, the player with the highest score is — Charlie Joyce.”

Nick, Scott and Slogger cheered and punched
him good-naturedly. Charlie blushed — but this time it felt good, especially after the way the morning had gone.

“But unfortunately, and here’s a lesson for you all, Mr. Joyce was late for the bus this morning and forgot his form. I told you yesterday how vital it is to keep to the schedule. You have to be responsible for yourself, on and off the ice.