Making the Cut Page 4

  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.

  “So we deducted 50 points from Mr. Joyce’s score. Therefore, the winner of the fitness test is Corey Sanderson.”

  Charlie’s stomach did a flip-flop. He felt sick. The boys around Corey clapped him on the shoulders. Corey’s grin seemed too big for his face.

  “That’s a bit unfair,” Slogger muttered.

  Charlie prayed he wouldn’t tear up. He took a couple of deep breaths. Maybe Slogger was right, but he could only blame himself. Stupid not to set his alarm properly.

  “It’s eleven o’clock, boys,” Jen said. “Why don’t we go for a nice, little run — to build up an appetite for lunch.”

  All the players groaned.

  “Not too far,” she said. “Just to get the kinks out. After lunch it’s a one-hour rest period — then we hit the ice.” That drew a cheer. “Now follow me.”

  She took off towards the door. There was a logjam, so Charlie waited in line. Trevor grasped Charlie’s arm.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “You did fantastic on the tests. Jen honestly felt bad about it, only she made such a big deal about being punctual and thought she had to do something to show she was serious. Put it behind you.”

  Charlie didn’t know what to say. “Thanks, Trevor. I guess I can do better with the schedule.” He lowered his head. “I kinda have a problem with being places on time. I’m pathetic.”

  “We think you’re pathetic too,” Scott said.

  “It won’t happen again,” Nick said. “We’ll be his parents. Now be a good little boy and eat your vegetables.”

  “That sounds like a great idea,” Trevor said. He pointed to the door. Everyone else had gone. “You might want to get going now.”

  “Thanks, Trevor,” they chorused, and took off laughing.

  Outside the door they all tried a group high-five while running and almost ended up flying into a bush. They were barely able to keep going they were laughing so hard, and Charlie felt grateful his friends were here. He couldn’t imagine what this camp would be like if he was alone.

  6

  HIGH RISK

  Charlie shuffled forward, cradling the puck on his forehand, waiting for his turn. Clark hadn’t lied about the hard work — the practice was intense. Drills lasted almost an hour, and they were brutal. Nick and Scott were on another rink, but Corey was with him. Charlie was still struggling to catch his breath, as he waited for the one-on-one drill to start. He felt good so far. At least his skating held up, and he’d been at or near the front almost every time. He was kind of surprised to find he was faster than Corey. It was weird because he looked fast, his form was perfect and he started off great. He just didn’t take it into high gear. Maybe he was saving it up since he was here last year and the coaches knew him. The big centre worked hard, though, and never let up, not even for one drill.

  At the far end, Corey was ready to go, and Slogger came out to defend. Charlie was interested in seeing what each of them could do. Slogger had already impressed him with his quickness. Corey drove hard to centre, and then about eight feet from the blue line he head-faked left and then cut sharply to the outside. Slogger calmly pivoted on his left foot and forced Corey into the boards. It looked like Corey was cut off, but he refused to give up and continued on to the goal. Slogger lowered his shoulder and knocked Corey off the puck, and pushed it to the back boards with his stick. He then turned to rejoin the defencemen.

  Corey still didn’t stop. He raced over and pulled the puck back from behind the net, pushed off in front of the crease, and reaching around the goalie shovelled in a backhand on the stick side.

  “Guy’s a total nut job,” someone said.

  Charlie didn’t have time to think about it. He was next.

  He took off hard to gain maximum speed, and then he slowed slightly. The defenceman, a kid named Markus, slowed to match his pace, with one hand on his stick and the other held up shoulder height. He was fairly tall, so Charlie figured he was the poke checker type. As he crossed the red line, Charlie threw in a stutter step and drove outside on his forehand. The defenceman turned slightly, ready to head him off. Charlie faked an inside move. The defenceman overreacted and shifted his shoulders that way. Charlie immediately turned on the jets, continuing on the outside, leaving the defender flat-footed. About fifteen feet from the goal, Charlie cut into the slot. He thought of faking a forehand and going glove side with a backhand deke, when the goalie came out and dropped into a butterfly. The top of the net was totally exposed. Charlie snapped a wrist shot over the goalie’s shoulder on the short
side.

  The defenceman brushed against him as he cut to rejoin the forwards in the corner. “Try that chicken move again and I’ll drop you,” he growled before skating off.

  The fun of scoring melted away. Coach Clark had said camp would be competitive. Probably no surprise that some guys would take it over the top.

  Charlie took a couple more turns, fortunately not against Markus. He scored on his last try too. The defenceman kept backing in, so Charlie fired a low shot three feet inside the top of the circle between the defender’s legs and right through the goalie’s five-hole.

  Binns blew his whistle.

  “Black shirts down at the far end for shooting practice. Red shirts stay here. Let’s move it, boys.”

  The players wearing black skated off. Binns drifted to the blue line, counting as he went.

  “Excellent. We have ten players. I’m going to pair you up. One player stands at the top of the circle. The second player is behind him. I’m going to dump the puck into one corner. The first player to touch the puck is the forward and he tries to score. The second player defends. Play ends when my whistle blows. If the puck turns over, your roles switch.”

  He picked two players who were standing together. “Why don’t you two show ’em how it’s done.” The two players skated over. “What are your names?”

  “I’m Simon.”

  “Gabriel.”

  “Sounds good. We’ll have Simon in front.”

  Charlie had noticed these two. Gabriel could absolutely fly, and he was a wizard with the puck. Simon was a powerful skater and had a wicked shot.

  Binns fired the puck into the corner. Simon got there first and cut hard to his right, carrying it behind the net, holding Gabriel off with his right arm. As he passed the far post, he spun, reversed directions, and tried to force his way to the front. Gabriel stuck his hips back, forcing Simon to go wide. Simon kept the puck to the hash marks, pulled it towards his skates with the tip of his stick and snapped off a quick shot. It was a cool move, although Gabriel got in the way and the puck deflected off his shin pad and bounced harmlessly to the far corner. Before they could give chase the whistle blew.

  “Nice positioning, Gabriel,” Binns said. “Notice how he didn’t overcommit. Stay in front of your man, using your stick to force him outside. Simon, that was nice puck control, and a nifty try to get the shot off. Good work, both of you.”

  Binns tapped his stick and nodded at Charlie and Zane. “How about you two give it a go.”

  Charlie relished the challenge. He’d show Zane a thing or two. The guy was huge, but Charlie was willing to bet he wasn’t that fast. He’d use his speed to blow by him. The puck went to the left corner, and Charlie raced after it. As he expected, Zane was slower, which gave him a few feet to work with. Charlie faked with his forehand, lowering his left shoulder and scooping up the puck on his backhand. What he didn’t expect was Zane being in the perfect spot, stick extended in his right hand, his left hand held high.

  But Zane wouldn’t be expecting Charlie’s favourite move — puck between the legs and the 360 spin.

  The puck part went fine. The 360 spin ran into one problem: Zane’s shoulder. Charlie bounced off him and nearly lost his footing. Zane grabbed the loose puck, went in alone and fired a shot into the goalie’s stomach.

  “Useless shot,” Zane cried, and slapped his stick on the ice. “Way to put it right on him.”

  Binns held his hand up and gave Zane a high-five. “Nice play. No panic. As for the shot, well, why don’t you stay a defenceman.”

  Zane laughed and rejoined the group. Binns looked over at Charlie. “You did well to retrieve the puck, nice speed. You need to be more careful, though. That was a very high-risk play. The point of this drill is to heighten the danger of losing the puck. If the defenceman has you, hold on to the puck and look for an opportunity.”

  While Binns organized the next two, Charlie fretted over his poor play. Binns was right. He vowed never to underestimate anyone at this camp again, even a muscle-head like Zane. Binns couldn’t have been too impressed by that effort. Zane had made him look ordinary.

  Coach Clark had been right. Everyone at this camp was solid, and he couldn’t expect all his usual tricks to work.

  After a few other pairs went, Binns said, “Why don’t we try Charlie and Zane again? This time Zane is in front.”

  Charlie had to strain to see around Zane’s broad back. He knew he needed to show Binns something this time. The puck was lofted to the right corner, and Charlie cut inside Zane’s left shoulder and flew after it with short choppy strides. His move surprised Zane and they both arrived at the puck at the same time. Zane then surprised him by easing up slightly, allowing Charlie to touch it first.

  Then he wished he hadn’t. Zane drove Charlie into the boards so hard he lost his wind for a second. Both of them bounced off. Charlie looked down, all the while fighting for breath. The puck remained against the boards. Before Zane could recover his balance, Charlie knifed the puck on his backhand and swooped between him and the post. The goalie threw out his paddle for a poke check, a smart move that would have worked if Charlie hadn’t transferred the puck to his forehand a second before. He took two steps across the front of the net and swept the puck into the far side — just before Zane’s stick whacked him on the right forearm.

  The whistle blew and Binns let out a loud, “Hurrah!”

  “Finally, a goal on this drill. Love it. That was hard — that was hockey. You all see that focus by Charlie? He took the hit, kept his cool, and made a play on the net. Zane, don’t give up after the hit. These guys don’t fall down too easy.”

  The next pair lined up. Charlie was smarting from the slash, and still winded from the hit; but Binns’s praise took the sting out of it. If that’s what it took to score a goal at this camp — then that’s what he’d do.

  And maybe Zane wouldn’t underestimate him, either.

  7

  CIRCUS ACT

  BEEEP! BEEEP! BEEEP!

  Charlie turned the alarm off, relieved that it had worked, and tossed the covers to the side. He’d spent ten minutes checking and rechecking the alarm last night. As he got dressed he felt unfamiliar pains in his legs and shoulders, and then it dawned on him that he was actually sore from the fitness testing and the practice.

  “I feel like an old man,” he said to Corey, twisting his back and flinging his arms windmill style to loosen up.

  Corey didn’t answer.

  “Wake up, Corey. Breakfast is in thirty minutes.”

  Charlie shook his head. His roommate was amazing that way — already gone. Did he ever sleep? Charlie finished dressing quickly. He wanted to knock on Scott and Nick’s door this time.

  Bang. Bang. Bang. Nick and Scott walked in.

  “Did you guys sleep outside my door?” Charlie said. “Let me wake you up for once.”

  “Joyce, your pathetic attempt to wake up early cannot defeat my awesome ability to rise at an ungodly hour,” Scott said.

  “I woke you up this morning,” Nick declared.

  “What I meant was Charlie’s pathetic attempt to wake up early cannot defeat my awesome ability to be woken up by Nick …”

  “It’s too early for me to listen to this,” Nick said. “I need breakfast first.”

  “Is it too early to listen to this?” Scott said. He began to imitate a chicken.

  “Where’s the roommate?” Nick asked Charlie as they left for the cafeteria.

  “Dunno. He’s like The Shadow. The guy disappears on me all the time.”

  “Maybe he has super powers,” Scott said excitedly, “that allow him to turn into a white mist and slip under the door …” He trailed off. “It’s too early for that too, isn’t it.”

  “We’ll tell you when to talk again,” Nick said.

  Scott paid no attention. “Joyce, I’m not sure about your roomie. He kinda scares me.”

  Scott got along with almost everyone, so his comment took Charlie by surprise. “He’s ok
ay,” Charlie said slowly. “Like I said before. He’s a little intense, is all. Give him a chance.”

  Nick didn’t look convinced. “If he can play, then all’s forgiven. If he hangs out with Jake, forget it.”

  Charlie knew Nick was joking, but it bothered him that his friends had taken a dislike to Corey so quickly.

  “There’s my roomie,” Scott said suddenly, and he ran ahead. “Hey, Sloggermeister. Wait up.” He clapped Slogger on the back. “Yo, Slogger. You can’t go to breakfast without us. You won’t understand the delicate balance between fruit and fibre.”

  That broke Slogger up. “You’re a twisted young man,” he said.

  Then he and Scott did a hilarious pretend handshake, which started with a patty-cake, and ended with elbow strikes, flapping arms, and two fingers wiggling behind their ears.

  Scott, Nick and Slogger cracked jokes and dissed each other all the way to the cafeteria. Charlie followed along, struggling to keep up with the rapid-fire conversation. He’d always envied Scott and Nick for how easily they made new friends and could talk to anyone. Charlie was usually at a loss for words when he was with people he didn’t know well.

  There was a fairly long lineup for the food. Charlie took a tray and joined it. Still only half-awake, he looked around the cafeteria. Jen was wheeling a large whiteboard against a wall. A bunch of early risers were already finished eating, Corey among them. He was holding court, gesturing wildly, to a table full of listeners.

  “Ladies and gentlemen.” A loud voice jarred Charlie out of his sleepy thoughts. “For your amusement and pleasure, I shall attempt the impossible. Behold the great Jakerini, who shall attempt to juggle three eggs with a bowl of cereal on his head.”

  That got everyone’s attention.

  “Ten bucks says he drops it all.”

  “A hundred bucks says he falls on his butt.”

  Jake laughed and bowed to the crowd. “I thank you for your encouragement. I require silence, please; and do not attempt this on your own. I am a professional, and you could get hurt.”