Making the Cut Read online

  “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.

  5

  HOLD THE BUS

  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.

  Wh
ere 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.”