Making the Cut Page 2

  Charlie knew Pudge was a cool guy, but he was super impressed by how little the news about his three friends going to the camp seemed to bother him. It was just the opposite in fact — he sounded really happy. But when he looked over at Zachary, he second-guessed his decision to tell Pudge. Zachary was the most laid-back guy he knew, but he looked kind of upset now. He was an awesome player, and the second leading scorer on the Rebels, playing right wing with him and Pudge. He definitely deserved an invitation.

  “I can’t believe my bad luck,” Zachary said. “I have to go to my Great Aunt Hetty’s eightieth birthday party, and I can’t go.”

  “You got an invitation too?” Scott said. “The YEHS is dead to me.”

  “Couldn’t they change the date?” Charlie asked Zachary.

  He rolled his eyes. “Don’t even ask. I begged. I pleaded. I tried every argument I could think of. Think of it. Pudge gets to go to his cottage and water ski and stuff; you three are going to an awesome hockey camp; and I’m spending four days with a bunch of senior citizens.”

  They all exploded with laughter.

  “Maybe you can organize a wheelchair street hockey game,” Scott sputtered.

  “I don’t suppose you could laugh at someone else?” Zachary said good-naturedly.

  “We’ll laugh at you for another ten minutes, and then we can get back to laughing at Scott,” Nick said.

  Pudge pointed to The Hill. “I think we’re up soon,” he said.

  Scott nudged Zachary. “I’ll take a rain check and mock you later.”

  “You’re a good guy,” Zachary said. “Thanks.”

  The three of them continued to joke around as they began to strap on their pads.

  “So that will be cool — you, Scott and Nick at the camp,” Pudge said to Charlie. “I’ll talk to my dad about another week for you to come up to the cottage.”

  “Yeah. That’ll be cool. I’ll check it out with my mom. For sure, though.”

  They finished with their pads. Charlie still felt a bit bad about it, and he wondered if he should say something about Pudge not going, just to clear the air.

  That’s when he heard the voice that always ruined his day.

  “So I did this wicked toe grab on the half-pipe, and then get the stupid idea to add a 180. Total epic fail follows, and I take a slide down the wall like a juicy tomato thrown against a window.”

  Jake Wilkenson. Of course he’d have to show up!

  A group of riders appeared over the crest of The Hill. They were all laughing at Jake’s story. Charlie instantly picked out the unmistakable long, black hair and Oakland Raiders jersey. Charlie still didn’t understand why Jake had it in for him. But it had started the first time they’d met, at a shinny game before grade nine even started. After the game Jake had come up from behind and slew-footed him. Then he’d tried to keep him off the school hockey team. Last season, Jake had given him a concussion with a cross-check from behind.

  Charlie didn’t have much time for the rest of his crew either — Liam, Thomas and Roscoe. The whole group of them went to Terrence Falls High School, and played for the Wildcats, the team the Rebels had beaten in the finals.

  Charlie steeled himself as they rode closer.

  Pudge wasn’t saying anything either, and Charlie knew why. Jake had bullied Pudge for years.

  “The Hill’s a bit steep for you, Joyce,” Jake sneered. “And Pudge is only gonna break his board with all that weight. I think we should go first.”

  Charlie noticed Pudge turn pink. He was sensitive about his size. Charlie fought to control his temper.

  “Forget him, guys. Let’s go,” Charlie said.

  But Jake wouldn’t let up. “Why not let us go first. We’ll be down and up before you get ten metres.”

  “Let’s just ride,” Charlie said to his friends.

  “Step aside, girls. You’re embarrassing yourselves,” Liam taunted.

  “Yeah. I’m in a bit of a hurry. I need to get prepared for the YEHS hockey camp,” Jake bragged. “That’s right. I was invited. You probably don’t know much about it on account of it being for real hockey players.”

  Charlie’s heart sank. He probably shouldn’t have been surprised. As much as he disliked Jake, he had to admit he was a fantastic player, and it made sense that he’d be invited too. Jake stared at Charlie, and suddenly his jaw slackened and his shoulders slumped. “Don’t tell me. Shoot me now. You’re going, aren’t you?”

  “And Scott and Nick too,” Pudge shot back. “Zachary also got an invite, but he can’t go.”

  Jake straightened up and smirked. “This’ll be a chance for us to get to really know each other,” he said.

  “You’ll find out how really lame they are,” Liam said.

  “That I already know,” Jake said. He pushed off on his board. “You dudes aren’t ready. Thanks for letting us go ahead.”

  His friends laughed and followed him down The Hill before Charlie could say a word.

  “Zachary, can I come on that trip with you?” Scott said.

  That broke the tension and the boys began to joke about it. Nick made up a story about starting a book club with Jake, and Scott cracked everybody up as he dreamed up creative games he and Jake were going to play together on the bus ride to the camp. Charlie pretended it was all a big laugh — but for him it wasn’t. Jake had made grade nine tough for him — very tough — and that cross-check had almost ended his hockey season. Just once he’d like to do something without Jake being around.

  Why did he have to exist?

  “All clear,” the spotter yelled. “Next group can go.”

  Zachary pushed off, and the rest of them followed. Charlie was preoccupied and was the last to go. At least Jake wouldn’t have any of his friends at camp, he reasoned. With Scott and Nick there — and those two could trash talk with the best of them — Jake wouldn’t dare go into his bully routine.

  He turned the first corner and lowered himself closer to the ground to pick up speed. Zachary was way out in front, and the others were pulling away. His board was really pathetic. He had to get a new one already. A few more deliveries for his mom, and it was his.

  Charlie leaned into the second corner, trying to coax a little more speed out of his board.

  3

  ROOMMATES

  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 al
l 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 t
o start.

  4

  TEACHER’S PET

  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.”