Making the Cut (7 page)

“One tray?” Scott said incredulously. “You trying to starve me?” Scott helped himself to three bananas, some cheese and crackers, two pieces of bread, and two yogurt containers — and then added a bunch of grapes and an orange.

“You had breakfast, right?” Slogger asked.

Scott put his forefinger on his chin. “I don’t rightly know,” he said, as if deep in thought. “I think it would be prudent to eat this in case I forgot.”

Charlie was surprised by how hungry he was, and he piled the food on. A nagging feeling bothered him as he ate, however. Dealing with Jake alone was one thing. If
Jake had a bunch of guys on his side, they could mess him up in a hundred ways.

He finished his banana. If only Pudge were here. He’d know what to do. Pudge was great at figuring stuff like this out. It would also be cool to have another friend in his corner. He could always count on Scott and Nick. Slogger seemed to be a cool guy too, and Charlie couldn’t help but like Corey even though he rubbed those guys the wrong way. Sure he was way too serious about everything, but Charlie could tell he was under intense pressure from his dad to do well at camp. Add in scouts and scholarships, he could understand why he pushed himself so hard.

Which meant Charlie had four guys on his side, against Jake and his gang, and a Team 1 that wasn’t very happy with Charlie Joyce at the moment.

Very, very not good — and it could mean serious trouble.

Charlie pushed his tray away and leaned back. “If I eat any more I’m gonna die.”

“So you’re not going to finish that apple?” Scott asked.

He rolled it over to Scott. His friend bowed before crunching into it.

Trevor banged a spoon on a table. “Time to award the prize to Team 2 for winning the obstacle course race,” he announced.

Charlie’s uneasy feeling got a bit worse. He didn’t need to be reminded of the race.

“I bet Team 2 doesn’t have to go for a run tomorrow,” Nick said to Scott.

“Maybe they get to sleep in,” Slogger said.

The room quieted down. “Maybe it wasn’t the longest race,” he said, which got a reaction, “but there was a winner and the prize is amusing, so whatever … The grand prize is that each Team 2 member will be piggy-backed to practice. Team 2 now has to decide
which team will do the piggy-backing.”

A huge cheer went up from some of the guys at Jake’s table, all high-fiving, and the hooting and hollering got louder and louder. Jake began chanting, “Team 2! Team 2! Team 2 will destroy you!” and soon all his teammates joined in.

“Huddle up, boys, and pick your team,” Trevor said with a laugh. He seemed to think it was all in fun. Charlie had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Jake called out, “Give us Team 1,” and began chanting “Team 1! Team 1! Team 1!” Soon the cafeteria was in a total uproar.

If they didn’t already, the Team 1 players would really hate him now. He honestly thought he’d be sick.

“Gentlemen, before you go, please check the bulletin board,” Jen said. “A few players will be moving teams. Think of it as a slight rebalancing. The coaches wanted me to stress that no one is being demoted or punished. They just think a few guys will flourish more on different teams.”

After that announcement, the players began to put away their trays and head to the rinks. All of them made sure to check the bulletin board, however; and Charlie noticed some happy faces, and a few sad ones too.

Jake came over to Charlie’s table. “My legs are darn tired, Joyce. That obstacle course took a lot out of me. I think I need a lift to the rink. Are you ready?”

With a cocky grin he wandered over to the bulletin board, where Zane and Markus traded high-fives with him. Charlie knew it before he read the new team lists —
Jake Wilkenson, Team 1. He noticed that Corey had moved to Team 2 to take Jake’s spot. That would cheer his roommate up at least.

As if on cue, Corey appeared next to him. “Awesome, isn’t it?”

He could only assume he was referring to his promotion. “It’s great news,” he said. “You deserve it.”

Corey leaned closer. “I knew it would happen,” he said in a confidential tone. “Like you said, it’s okay to let some other guys have a chance. I must’ve sounded totally lame yesterday, worried like an old grandmother. I’ll be on Team 1 soon, for sure.” He elbowed Charlie, as they made their way outside. “What’s this Savard like? Is he really any good? He looks kinda small to me.”

“I think he’s gotta be one of the best players here,” Charlie answered.

Corey’s face clouded over. “But he’s not that big? I mean, what could he do against me in the corners or in front, right?” He suddenly thrust his hand in his pocket and pulled out his phone. “Hold on a sec, Charlie. It’s my dad.”

“So I got promoted to Team 2,” Corey said. “Yeah, today. This morning. I’m off to practice … I’ll call you back later.”

He put the phone back in his pocket. “I’m gonna run over to the rink — see if I can get on the ice for a bit of a skate around. Catch you later.” Corey ran off across the field towards the rink.

“Excuse me, Charlie. Can I have a word with you?” Jen said. Charlie stopped and waited for her. “I don’t
want to make a big deal out of what happened this morning. But I want to convey to you that issues are piling up: late for training, no form, and now the obstacle course. The coaches discussed moving you down to take some pressure off you, and let you focus more. Do you think that would help?”

Charlie shook his head. It all seemed so unfair. He knew it looked bad, but none of the problems Jen mentioned were really his fault. But she’d think he was a whiner if he said that.

“I’ll do better. I know I maybe got off to a slow start … being late and stuff.” He wondered if she knew about the elbow pads. “I’m good now. I’ll be fine.”

She peered into his eyes. “You’re a nice kid, and we want you to do well. The YEHS is for elite athletes, and if the pressure is bothering you then let me know and I can help. Don’t feel like you have to stay on Team 1 to prove something …”

Her voice trailed off, and then she waited for him to respond.

“I’m … I’m good, like I said. I’m into the rhythm of the camp now. There won’t be any more mistakes.”

She didn’t look entirely convinced. “Okay, Charlie. Why don’t you head on out.”

Heading out wasn’t exactly something to look forward too, but he was happy to end this conversation. He said goodbye and, as he exited, heard shouting and laughing. The piggy-backing must have started.

This wasn’t going to be pretty. This was going to be downright ugly!

A few Team 1 guys had already started towards the rink when he arrived. Team 3 and 4 players had formed a lane and they clapped and dissed the unfortunate piggy-backers as they trucked across the field. Clark, Miller and Binns were watching too, giving good-natured encouragement.

“Mr. Joyce,” Jake said grandly. “I’ve been waiting for my noble steed. Let’s make haste. I do not wish to be late for my appointment.”

Charlie steeled his nerves and bent down without a word. He wasn’t going to give Jake the satisfaction of seeing how embarrassing this was. Jake jumped onto his back.

“Giddy-up, horsey,” Jake said gleefully. “Catch up. I wanna win.” He slapped Charlie’s sides, imitating a jockey.

Everyone was laughing at Jake’s antics. It wasn’t so comical for Charlie. Jake was a big guy, and once they’d gotten past the onlookers he made sure the ride became painful. The occasional dig of the elbow into his back wasn’t the worst part, though. Jake kept up the trash talk the entire way, never letting up for a second.

“Joyce, too bad about the rope. I feel awful about it … now that you’re my horse and all.”

“There was only one rope, I was there first, and I didn’t cut you off,” Charlie sputtered, as the strain of carrying him became overwhelming.

“You’re right. Only, no one else knows that — which is the beauty of situation. The guys on Team 2 love me
’cause I won the race for them.I’m on Team 1 where I belong, and all the Team 1 guys think you’re a total cheating doofus — even Savard, he told me. Now I’m not so sure it’s cool that we’re teammates. But I bet you’ll mess up again big time and get sent down. You never know what can happen.”

He laughed at that, which confirmed Charlie’s suspicions. Nathan had definitely thrown his rope over. When he got to the other side of the field he let Jake drop.

“One day you’ll get what you deserve, and I hope I’m there to see it,” Charlie said. “And from now on how about we don’t actually talk to each other. You’re not as interesting as you think.”

He brushed past as Zane and Markus came over.

“What did he say?” Zane asked Jake.

“He … um … he told me … He said he has a big booboo on his knee and it’s really hurting.”

Charlie kept on going. Jake never had to take responsibility for being such a jerk. He was the type of guy who always got away with things. As he reached for the door handle to go into the rink, the door swung open and Slogger stuck his head out.

“Did you survive?” he asked with a cock-eyed grin.

“Not with my pride. How about you?” Charlie said.

“I carried Nathan. Not quite as big as Jake. I got off easy. But I hope we don’t lose any more challenges.”

Charlie paled. “I guess I’d better apologize to the guys. No one’s gonna be too happy to see me.”

Slogger looked surprised. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
His eyes lowered to the floor and then back at Charlie. “Some guys buy Jake’s act. I’m not one of them. I’m not buyin’ it for one second. The guy is too cool by half. I’ll see how tough he is on the ice.”

“Jake’s an awesome player,” Charlie said. “He’s probably one of the best players here.”

Slogger shook his head. “I don’t get you, Charlie. Scott filled me in on the Rebels and your school team, and all the garbage Jake’s pulled on you — and then you tell me how great he is.”

Charlie had to laugh. “Maybe awesome is going too far. How about barely okay?”

“That sounds more like it,” Slogger said, and together they went in.

Jen almost ran them over running up the stairs from the dressing rooms. She seemed almost out of breath, and for the first time since Charlie had met her, she looked really angry.

“Sorry, gentlemen. Did you see anyone come down these stairs?”

“Not really,” Charlie said. “We just got here.” He pointed at Slogger. “We kinda had piggy-back duties.”

He expected her to laugh. Stone-faced, she replied, “Spread the word that Coach Miller’s Stanley Cup ring is missing. He left it in the coaches’ change room this morning …” She closed her eyes briefly and with two outstretched hands said, “Are you sure you didn’t see anyone? Who came in before you?”

“I came in right before Charlie,” Slogger said. “I didn’t see anyone — at least I don’t remember anyone off the bat.”

She groaned slightly. “This is all I needed. Okay. Get dressed.”

“Do you want us to help look?” Charlie said.

“No, thank you. You have to get ready.” She sprang up the stairs two at a time and walked quickly towards the door.

“You don’t think someone would actually steal it, do you?” Charlie asked Slogger. It seemed unbelievable. Steal a Stanley Cup ring! “You could never wear it around, and …” He gave his head a shake. It seemed too unreal.

“It would be a totally bold move. I mean, to go into the coaches’ room, dig around and take the ring … a bold move.”

“Miller’s gonna totally lose it,” Charlie said.

Slogger opened the dressing room door. “Did you guys hear about Miller?” he said. “Jen just told us. Someone stole his Stanley Cup ring.”

“That’s whacked,” Simon said. “For real? No way!”

“Where’d you hear that?” Cameron asked.

“Jen told us,” Slogger said.

“What’s the controversy?” Jake said, as he flopped on the bench by his equipment.

“Jen said someone’s ripped off Miller’s ring.”

Jake’s eyes grew big, and he laughed incredulously. “Now that’s a big score. How much would a Stanley Cup ring be worth? Thousands, I bet.”

“You’d get a ton of money, like twenty thousand dollars,” Zane said.

“Not that much, dude,” Jake snorted. “Give me a break.”

“Yeah … well … like I care,” Zane muttered, and he
went over to open his bag. Slogger sat down as well. Charlie looked around for his bag. The guys continued to talk about the ring. Jake took the lead, speculating on who took it and how he’d sell it without getting caught. Charlie, meanwhile, was feeling ridiculous standing in the middle of the room looking for his equipment. But where was it? He scanned the room again.

“You gonna give us a pep talk, Joyce?” Jake said, finally noticing him.

He laughed, but he knew it sounded nervous and panicky. His equipment was probably in another room. “Maybe later,” he said, and he turned and left. As the door closed he heard some guys laughing. He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. Why didn’t he just say his bag wasn’t there? He sounded completely lame — and was dissed by Jake yet again.

Staying calm got a lot harder as he searched the other dressing rooms. They’d practiced here yesterday afternoon, so where else could it be? He wandered into the lobby, his mind racing.

Trevor was standing by the vending machines. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready?” he said.

Charlie had run out of ideas, and so, trying not to sound too desperate, he said as casually as he could, “I’m sort of looking … for my equipment.”

Trevor raised one eyebrow and pulled his head back. “I might try the dressing room.”

“I did … it’s not there.”

“Where could it be?”

“I wish I knew,” he said meekly.

“First Miller’s ring, and now this.” Trevor raised his arms and let them flop to his sides. “Did you check all the other rooms?” he said quickly.

Charlie nodded.

“Charlie, this is not good. How can you lose your equipment?”

Charlie looked down at the floor.

“I’ll help you look,” Trevor said softly. “Come on. It has to be here somewhere.”

Ten minutes later they’d looked in the coaches’ room, the trainer’s room, upstairs in an office and even in a storage room that Charlie had never seen. His panic level doubled when the Team 1 players began to file onto the ice. Trevor seemed almost as distressed as Charlie.

“This is bizarre. I have to get ready. I’m doing the warm-up drills for Team 1 today.” He looked genuinely upset. “Find Jen and have her help you. Sorry, but I have to get my skates on.” He ran back to the coaches’ room, leaving Charlie alone in the lobby. Coach Miller swept past him, followed by Jen and Coach Binns. They all looked very, very angry. Halfway down the stairs, Jen whirled and came stomping back to him.

“Precisely why are you standing here when there’s a practice, Mr. Joyce?”

“I can’t find my equipment.”

“How is that possible?”

“I don’t know,” he said miserably. “Me and Trevor looked all over. I … I …”

“I bet the ring is in your stupid bag,” Jen cut in.

“I didn’t take the ring,” he said breathlessly.

“I didn’t say you did. Sorry. I’m just annoyed.” She rolled her neck around once. “Fine. Where did you look?”

Charlie told her, and she closed her eyes and shook her head slowly from side to side. “Well, there’s nowhere else. It must be in one of the other rinks. Maybe someone carried it over by mistake.”

“Why would someone take my stuff?” he said.

“Do you have a better idea, Mr. Joyce?”

Charlie gulped and said, “No,” following Jen outside.

Head down, and feeling as self-conscious as he ever had in his life, Charlie glided across the ice to join the group of forwards at the far end. Practice was half over. He was still unnerved by the whole thing. Jen had found his equipment in an empty dressing room in Rink 3. It certainly didn’t help his nerves when Coach Clark called him over the second he fell into line. He hadn’t realized Clark would be running the practice.

“Charlie Joyce, come over here please, and the rest of you, form a semicircle behind me. I want to show you something.”

Charlie dutifully skated to the front of the net, dreading what was going to come next.

“I’ve been told you lost your equipment?” Clark said.

“Somehow it got put in the other rink — sorry,” Charlie managed.

The corners of Clark’s eyes hardened. “That is very odd,” he said slowly.

By this time the other players had gathered around. Much to Charlie’s relief, Clark didn’t dwell on his misplaced equipment. “I’m sure coach Miller has spoken to you about net presence — although in my day we called it standing in front of the net or screening the goalie. Anyway, I’ve noticed most of you forwards are remaining stationary, which is allowing the defenceman to establish position.

“Charlie, I want you to be the forward, and I’ll be the defenceman.” He banged the tip of his stick on the ice about seven feet from the top of the crease. “Stand here and see if you can score. Trevor, you fire a few passes from the corner.”

Why did Clark have to pick him? He felt even more self-conscious, not to mention a little awed, actually playing against Clark, a former NHL player. He’d been retired for years, but Charlie had seen him skating around and shooting and the man could definitely still play.

“Let’s go, Trevor,” Clark said.

Each pass was perfect. Right on Charlie’s stick, and not too hard. But each time, Clark knocked his stick, bumped him slightly or poked the puck away. He wasn’t even taking advantage of his size. Soon the guys started laughing, which only added to Charlie’s embarrassment.

“Okay, Trevor. Hold up,” Clark said finally. “You’re all laughing — but you all do the same thing. You race to the front
of the net because that’s what you’ve been taught, and then you’re static. That allows the D to keep the puck away. When I played I loved guys who stood in front like statues. Now this time, Charlie, I want you to move around, and when you feel you have an opening, power hard to a spot, make yourself available for a pass, bend low, and get strong.”

Clark said to go, and Charlie faked to his right and charged down low to his left about four feet from the post. Trevor anticipated the move and the puck arrived the second he put on the brakes. Clark extended his stick and push him with his left arm, but Charlie was able to get a shot on net to the short side.

Clark tapped Charlie on the helmet. “Well done. That was perfect. Did you see that, boys? Movement, position, shot. It’s that simple. Very difficult to defend without taking a penalty. Let’s try once more.”

Trevor was to his left, so Clark would expect him to go to that side. Counting on Trevor’s skills, and he’d seen plenty of them at work since camp started, Charlie spun to his right, dancing past Clark and took two steps to the far post. The puck saucered onto his stick, and he knifed at it with his forehand. It was one of those miracle shots, when the puck rockets off your stick and you wonder how you did it. The puck nicked the bottom of the crossbar and ricocheted into the net.

Several of the onlookers let out a cheer. Charlie forced himself not to smile too broadly. It would look like he was dissing the coach. Coach Clark didn’t seem to mind, however, and slapped his stick several times and held out his glove to Charlie for a high-five.

“Well done — and done to perfection. Did you see that? Movement. Aggression. Purpose. Put the
defender under pressure and you’ll get your scoring chances. Remember that eighty percent of all goals are scored within ten feet of the net. So ask yourselves all the time: Am I in position to score? Am I in position to screen the goalie? Am I in a position to receive a pass? If you’re not, move.

“Trevor, you’ll feed the forwards. We’ll take turns, forwards trying to get free, defencemen working to stop them.”

Charlie was about to join the forwards when Clark called him over.

“That was good effort, Charlie,” he said. “I’d like to see more of that. Play with confidence — that’s something for you to focus on. You’ve got the ability, and the jam too, to be a great player. It’s lack of confidence that holds you back, and maybe a lack of attention sometimes. I know you’ve been late to some things and have had some problems with some of the activities. Are you enjoying the camp, Charlie?”

The kindness of the question took him by surprise. He was half expecting to get demoted, especially after speaking with Jen before practice.

He hesitated. “Yeah. Of course. It’s been great. I’ve learned a ton of stuff already. Coach Miller is awesome. And you’re right about me standing still. My coach back at Terrence Falls tells me the same thing. Never stop skating in hockey.”

Clark seemed to approve. “I like the sound of this coach of yours. Good advice.”

Charlie figured he was done. “Thanks,” he said,
and was about to join the line when Clark added, “Let’s keep track of that equipment of yours.”

Before Charlie could answer, Clark blew his whistle. “I need a forward and D in front, please,” he ordered.

Charlie fell in behind Simon and Gabriel. He’d gotten to know them a little bit since that first practice, although they tended to hang out together and not socialize much with others. They were very, very serious players, and rarely joked around — the complete opposite of Scott and Nick.

Savard and Zane were the first pair up. The shifty centre used his tremendous quickness and soft hands to convert a pass into a goal, and narrowly missed a second. Zane slammed his stick on the ice as two more players took their position.

“What did Clark have to say about you being so late for practice?” Gabriel asked him.

“Where were you?” Simon followed up. “We thought you’d gotten hurt and had gone back to the dorm.”

He figured he might as well tell them the truth. “You won’t believe, it but I found my equipment at Rink 3. Jen was gonna kill me, I swear. It didn’t help that she was beyond mad about Miller’s ring.”

Simon scowled. “You’re having your share of bad luck. That rope thing was crazy.”

“Jen’s okay, but I don’t think she was fair to you,” Gabriel said.

Charlie didn’t want to rehash that. He had a feeling most of the guys were still mad at him. But it was cool that at least these two guys were giving him the
benefit of the doubt.

“Next pair,” Clark yelled.

“You’re up,” Gabriel said, pushing Simon forward.

Charlie considered Clark’s advice as he waited for his turn. Confidence. That was a good idea. He’d known the competition would be intense. But he’d done okay — maybe even better than okay. He was still on Team 1, although Jen had made it clear that could change.

He readied himself. From now on Charlie Joyce was going to take it to a higher level — starting with this drill.

“Next.”

Charlie took his place in the slot and waited for the whistle.