Ice Time Page 6

  Both of them looked away. Rocket didn’t follow up. He felt better. At least two of the guys had heard Barker, and they didn’t seem to like him, either. But it was clear Barker wasn’t going to let up on Rocket, and he had all of the power.

  It seemed like Barker was winning this battle, but Rocket intended to win the war. Though, at this point, he had no idea how.

  CHAPTER 13

  Rocket glided over to the boards, dragging his right skate behind him. Usually his nerves were going crazy before a game. But if the Ravens game was any indication, his line wouldn’t see much ice time tonight. This was a three-line team. Too bad, too: he’d gotten Ritchie and the kids some tickets. They were good seats — just up behind the players’ bench.

  Then Rocket had an idea.

  He grabbed a puck off the bench and hopped up to talk to them.

  “How do you like the view?” he said.

  “They’re awesome seats,” Rafa said, his eyes bright and full of joy. “It’s like we’re on the ice.”

  Rocket laughed. “We could use you. The Marlies are a good team.”

  “Show him the sign,” Ritchie said.

  Leona and Rafa unrolled a banner.

  We The Rocket

  “That’s great, guys! Thanks.” He felt bad they wouldn’t have much reason to show it. “That deserves a puck.” Rocket tossed one to Rafa.

  “What about me?” Leona said.

  “I’ll get you one after the game,” Rocket said. “A brand-new one.”

  “I want a brand-new one, too,” Rafa said.

  “That one is just as special,” Ritchie said. “It’s been used by real players.” He laughed. “Now say thank you, and let Bryan get back to his game.”

  “Thanks, Rocket Man!” the kids chorused.

  Rocket waved and they sat back down in their seats.

  “Is that the famous Bryan ‘The Rocket’ Rockwood?”

  “Megan? You didn’t tell me you were coming.”

  She stood up on a seat so she could lean over the glass. “André and Maddy wanted to surprise you, and at the last second they couldn’t come. So, I thought I’d just drive up and watch.”

  “Tell me next time. I could’ve scored some tickets,” he said.

  She held up her ticket stub. “I managed to score my own. Have a great game. Can we meet for a bit after?”

  “Sure. Wait in the lobby.” He heard the Zamboni coming on. “Got to get ready. Sorry,” he said.

  “Bring it,” she mouthed.

  He laughed and headed back across the ice to the dressing room.

  “Yo, Rocket. Big game, bro,” Crawford called. He was leaning over the overhead railing, and he held out his hand as Rocket came under it.

  Rocket gave it a slap with his glove.

  “Tell McGill to get you on the power play,” Chaz said.

  “I’ll try,” Rocket said with a grin.

  “Kiss the cup, bro,” Crawford said.

  Rino lowered his tinfoil Stanley Cup hat. Rocket felt silly, but he gave it a peck. The boys let out a huge whoop.

  Griff dangled his scarf, and Rocket gave it a tug as he went by. He was still chuckling at their antics as he opened the dressing-room door.

  “I’m glad the game is such a joke,” Barker said to him.

  Rocket forced a smile. He took his spot next to Rory.

  “Can you grab me some water?” Rory asked. He was stretching his right leg, and he looked to be in a bit of pain.

  Rocket went over to the far wall, filled a cup and handed it to him.

  Rory nodded in thanks and popped something in his mouth. He finished the water. “Don’t know why, but the knee’s tightened up on me,” he said. He stretched his leg out again and put a bottle in his backpack. Then he slapped Rocket’s thigh. “I think you’re going to have a big game tonight.”

  “You mean, I might be on for a whole shift?” Rocket joked.

  “He can’t go with three lines the entire year, especially not with Terrence Day as the third centre. He doesn’t have the fitness or the speed,” Rory said in a low voice. “Some of the guys think McGill’s nervous about getting fired, so he wants to put some wins together to buy himself some time. That’s why he’s double-shifting C.C. so much. Floyd thinks we have a championship team. I’m not sure.”

  “Winning is the name of the game,” Rocket said.

  “Yeah, but Floyd doesn’t strike me as a guy who’d recognize talent if it hit him in the face. I’m only here because I know Kaufman from way back. I mean, why bring Day in? Strauss is a good winger. He’s just not a centre. And if they keep double-shifting C.C., he’s going to wear down. You wait and see. It’s a long season, and he can’t play every power play and penalty kill, plus take a regular shift — not with only three lines. No one can.”

  “Listen up, ladies,” Barker said. “Mr. Floyd wants to talk to you.”

  Rory stretched his leg out. He took a deep breath.

  “Good win in the opener,” Floyd said. “I thought the goal they scored was a bit soft.”

  “Total gimme,” Barker said.

  “I wasn’t totally thrilled with the effort level, either,” Floyd continued. “Guys who don’t pay the price won’t be here too long.”

  C.C. stayed silent, but his eyes flashed angrily. Most of the guys had their heads down. Rory continued to massage his knee.

  “That puck is ours — every shift,” Floyd said. “We grind it out and play physical.”

  “True dat,” Barker said.

  Rocket spun his helmet in his hands. He needed to make something happen when his chance came, even if it was one shift. He needed to get noticed. It would also be nice to show Ritchie and the kids — and Megan — a little something.

  Nadav came in. “Zamboni is almost off. Ref told me we’re ready.”

  Floyd threw his hands in the air. “This kid is an interrupting machine. I guess you didn’t notice I was talking again?”

  Nadav swallowed heavily. “Sorry, Mr. Floyd. Coach McGill asked me to tell him when—”

  “Guess they don’t teach manners in your country,” Floyd said.

  “This is my country,” Nadav said, not backing down this time.

  Floyd snorted in disgust. “Whatever. Mack, get these boys fired up. I want a win tonight.” He spun on his heel and left.

  McGill looked around the room slowly. His eyes burned brightly. “You heard the man — win.”

  “All right, let’s go,” Barker yelled, clapping a few times.

  The goalies led them out. Rory did a couple of knee bends.

  “Did it loosen up?” Rocket said.

  “Yeah … Maybe I was dehydrated,” Rory said. “I got to remember to drink more water. Remind me, okay?”

  “Yeah, sure,” Rocket said.

  Rory was acting kind of weird, like he was embarrassed about something. Rocket figured he didn’t like to draw attention to his knee.

  They punched gloves and Rory headed out. Rocket waited until all the players were gone.

  “You heard the man,” Rocket said to himself. “Win.”

  He went down the hallway. He could hear the crowd cheering. Ritchie, Rafa, Leona, Megan, they were all out there to cheer for him.

  It was time to prove he could do better than fourth line in the AHL.

  CHAPTER 14

  Tweet!

  C.C.’s shoulders slumped, and he skated to the bench. McGill had been double-shifting him all game, and he looked exhausted.

  “Faceoff in their zone,” Barker said. “Suck it up, C.C.”

  C.C.’s face was pale. “Tweaked my groin. I got to stretch it out.”

  “What a year,” McGill huffed. “This is all I need.” He looked down the bench.

  Kaufman leaned over and said something to him.

  “Rockwood, take C.C.’s spot until we figure this out,” McGill said.

  “Look alive for once, Rockwood, and don’t do anything stupid,” Barker said to him. “Pull the puck back to the point, then go look for
a rebound.”

  Rogers and Downey stared glumly at their skates. Rocket felt bad. He knew how much they wanted to play. It had been killing him to just watch, too.

  Rocket hopped the boards and darted to the faceoff on the goalie’s left.

  “You got this,” Rory said. He settled into his rightwing spot against the boards.

  “Is Beauclair hurt, too?” Goldsy said. He looked over to the bench.

  The referee blasted his whistle. The linesman squatted and held the puck out. Rocket quickly adopted a reverse grip. No time to assess the other centre. He’d have to play it straight. Barker was right. Pull it back to his defenceman, then charge the net.

  “You got this,” Rory said, louder this time.

  Rocket shot him a puzzled glance. Rory nodded to the corner. He wanted Rocket to punch it there to set up a cycle. The centre put his stick down. Decision time. Play it safe or try Rory’s idea? Rocket switched to a regular grip and put his stick down — when had listening to Barker ever paid off?

  The puck dropped. Rocket whacked it into the corner. Rory slipped past the defenceman and collected it. The centre turned and dropped to one knee. Rory saucered the puck over the guy’s stick to Rocket, who took it at the faceoff dot.

  Goldsy pushed against the defenceman in front of the net and held his stick out for a pass. Rocket took a step forward. The left winger threw himself to the ice, and the goalie dropped into his butterfly.

  Instinct took over. Rocket faked a pass to Goldsy, and in the same motion, he let loose a wicked snap shot over the goalie’s shoulder.

  He gasped. Someone had cross-checked him from behind. For a moment, the air left his body and he struggled to breathe.

  “Bush-league cheap shot!” Rory yelled.

  A defenceman stood in his way. Rory pushed him back, trying to get to the guy who’d hit Rocket.

  “I got him,” the referee said.

  Rocket sat up.

  The referee pointed at the centreman. “You’re gone for two minutes: a cross-check after the play.”

  The centre groaned. “I barely touched him. He’s two inches tall. Not my fault he fell like a house of cards.”

  Rocket got up on one knee. “I learned that trick from Thumbelina,” he said.

  The centre rolled his eyes and headed to the box.

  Rocket stood up. The puck must have deflected out of play. He wondered where the faceoff was.

  Then Rory came over with the puck in hand. “An honour to get an assist on your first AHL goal,” he said.

  It took a moment to register. “That actually went in? A goal?”

  Rory slapped his shin pads. “I think that’s what they call it when this little black thingy goes in between those red posty things.”

  Rocket rolled his shoulders and neck. That cross-check had really hurt. He felt a bit wobbly.

  Rory handed him the puck. “Welcome to the league — and way to pay the price in close.”

  Goldsy tapped Rocket’s pads. “Nice shot,” he said simply, then skated away.

  Rocket’s two defencemen gave him a pat on the helmet and skated back to the Racers’ blue line.

  Suddenly, Rocket was overcome by a dizzy spell. He closed his eyes and shook his head. The feeling went away, but he still felt a bit sick to his stomach.

  Nadav leaned over the boards. “Are you okay? That was a nasty hit.”

  Rocket skated over and gave Nadav the puck.

  “I’m fi—”

  “Give me a break,” Barker interrupted. “He barely got touched.” He leaned over the boards, too. “Rockwood, don’t think I didn’t notice you disobeying my order on that faceoff. And don’t think scoring made up for it.” He stood back up on the bench.

  “It was a nice shot,” Nadav said to him.

  Rocket grunted and went to centre. McGill was keeping him on. That was the important thing, not Barker’s stupid comments.

  He leaned down for the draw. Again, a wave of dizziness flooded over him and dots danced in his eyes. He blinked a few times and took a deep breath. The referee dropped the puck. Rocket swung his stick mechanically. The puck skidded back to his left defenceman.

  Rocket did a quick curl and took a short pass on the fly. He crossed centre and gave it up to Rory, who continued down the wall. The other team’s left defenceman stumbled slightly, and Rory was able to keep going.

  Just over the blue line Rory cut inside, and Rocket crossed behind him to the boards. Rory rewarded him with a nice backhand flip pass. The Marlies’ defenceman kept with Rory, confident his winger could track Rocket down.

  Rocket felt a slash on his right leg at the top of the circle. The winger wasn’t able to keep up — they didn’t call him the Rocket for nothing!

  He took it on net. The goalie came out to challenge. The left defenceman broke away from Rory and came across to head off Rocket.

  Looking over his shoulder, Rocket saw Goldsy cruising into the zone, watched closely by the right winger. The centre had hustled back and had a stick on Rory.

  Rocket faked a backhander to Goldsy, then made an unexpected power move on goal. The defenceman was surprised by his explosiveness, and Rocket was able to gain the edge. The goalie dropped into a butterfly a half-metre in front of his crease. He wasn’t giving Rocket much to shoot at, but Rocket figured any shot was better than nothing. He lowered his left hand and let the backhander go. The puck was still flying when the defenceman launched himself into Rocket’s back.

  For a horrible second, Rocket thought he would crash into the post. His chest grazed the iron, and he tumbled to the ice behind the net, his momentum carrying him hard into the boards.

  He heard a siren, and the crowd begin cheering loudly. Rocket looked at the net. The puck was nestled in the corner. Rory was holding his stick over his head in victory. He skated over to Rocket.

  “Did you get a rebound?” Rocket asked, blinking a few times. He felt unsteady.

  “Nope. All you. It was off the goalie’s mask and in,” Rory said. “My honour to assist on your second AHL goal — this shift!”

  He helped Rocket up, then pounded him on the back of the helmet. Rocket wished he hadn’t. It made him even dizzier, and it hurt his neck. Goldsy and the defencemen joined in the celebration, and they all patted his helmet. Rocket almost fell. What was wrong with him?

  Beauclair’s line had come out. Rocket gladly went to the bench. He needed some water. The guys were nice enough to hold out their gloves as he side-stepped his way to the middle, next to Rogers and Downey.

  “Nice work,” Rogers said.

  Downey reached a glove out and Rocket punched it.

  When Rocket leaned forward to get some water, the spots came back. He waited for them to disappear. Weird. It was like he was fine one minute, and then he could barely stand up. He took a sip of water. It burned the back of his throat.

  Nadav tapped him on the shoulder. “Bryan, can I run a few tests on you?”

  “What for?” Rocket said.

  “Have you had any dizziness or pain in the head or neck since that cross-check?” Nadav said. He was testing Rocket for a concussion.

  The last thing Rocket needed was to start the third period alone in the dark room, especially after scoring two goals. He had to stay in the game. “Not really. It hurt, though,” he said.

  “Where are you?” Nadav said.

  “On the bench,” Rocket said.

  “No. I mean, name the building.”

  Rocket hesitated. The name had somehow slipped his mind. “It’s called … I just moved here so …” Then it came to him. “Pinewood Barns Arena,” he said with relief.

  “What day of the week is it?”

  “It’s … Sunday,” Rocket said. He had to dig deep for that one.

  “What city are you in?”

  “Pinewood.”

  “Repeat these five words: table, dog, green, boat, shoe.”

  Rocket repeated them.

  “Do you remember the hit?”

  “It was the
last shift. Rory passed to me.”

  “What was the score before you got your first goal?”

  It was close. He knew that. Rocket looked up at the scoreboard: 2–0. He’d just gotten two goals so … he gave his head a shake. He was being stupid. “Zero, all.”

  “What were the five words I asked you to repeat?”

  Rocket was stumped. “Green … Um, I wasn’t really listening.”

  Barker came over. He didn’t look happy.

  “Goldsy needs a new stick,” he told Nadav. “Leave Rockwood alone. I told you he’s fine.”

  “He took a hit to the back of the head or possibly the neck,” Nadav said softly. “I’m worried about a concussion.”

  “Come on,” Barker said. “When did hockey become a game for little boys who need their mommies?”

  “Protocol is that we—”

  “C.C. is out with a pulled groin,” Barker cut Nadav off savagely. “We’ve only got three centres. He’s fine. Look at him. He’s totally okay. Rockwood, you’re okay to play, right?” He glared down at Rocket.

  “I’m good,” Rocket said.

  “Told you. Now get that stick for Goldsy and then check on C.C.,” Barker said. He turned back to the ice. “Call the hook, ref!” he yelled.

  “Tell me if you get a headache or your neck hurts — or if you see spots or become sensitive to light,” Nadav said. He patted Rocket’s shoulder pads and left.

  “Pick up the physical play, little boys,” Barker said. “We need to crush their spirit.”

  “I wouldn’t mind crushing his spirit with my physical play,” Rogers whispered to Downey.

  Downey chuckled.

  Rocket contented himself with a long sip of water. Barker wasn’t winning any friends on the team. He was a rookie coach, and as he himself had said, “Rookies should shut up and do their jobs.”

  CHAPTER 15

  The coaching staff, along with Floyd and Blywood, crowded around C.C. in the dressing room after the game.

  Rocket put on his sweatshirt. He’d already showered and dressed.

  “I told you not to overuse him,” Floyd said to McGill.

  “We’ll monitor the situation for a few days,” McGill replied.

  “The playing minutes should’ve been managed better,” Barker said.