Undergrounders Page 6

  “How about a private box?” he called out, as I started to climb up.

  • • •

  As I waited at the rink, there were moments I almost started whimpering like J.J. My feet were frozen, and I couldn’t feel my hands either. I had to get my equipment from my hiding place, and then walk to the rink, and I almost quit a few times, but freezing to death was better than huddling in the Underground listening to J.J. snivelling and Rose and Will being idiots.

  A blue van stopped in front of me and the side door flew open.

  “Sorry we’re late, Jonathon,” Rasheed said. He seemed embarrassed. “I promised to clean my room and sorta forgot. Mom made me finish.”

  “I just got here myself.”

  “Well, get in. It’s freezing.”

  “Open the trunk for him,” the driver ordered.

  “Sorry, Dad,” Rasheed said. He hopped out and took my bag and stick without asking and tossed them into the back. He looked at me kind of strange and said, “Go on in.”

  The van was incredibly warm, like a furnace. Every part of my body relaxed, and I swear I could have laid down on the floor and gone to sleep right then and there. But his dad jolted me awake with a question, which I should have expected because adults are always firing questions at kids.

  “So what school do you go to?” he asked me.

  Every Undergrounder had an answer to that question in case a cop or some nosy do-gooder Reggie hassled you.

  “I go to Glenwood, sir.”

  He laughed. “That’s not far from the train station, right? And you can call me Rick, although I appreciate the manners.”

  Suddenly I smelled food. Rasheed was eating a sandwich — tuna. I hadn’t eaten today. Money was too tight.

  “Where did you move from?” Rick asked.

  The smell made my head swim, like when you’re sick and you feel all floaty.

  “Jonathon, I was asking where did you move from?”

  Luckily I had to cough, and I added a few more to give me time to think. “We lived in Brentwood, sir … I mean Rick.”

  “So not so far away. We went camping near there two summers ago. Remember, Rasheed?”

  “Wasn’t that the place with the rocky beach?”

  Rick grunted. “I think you need to forgive me for that already.”

  Rasheed laughed. “Never. Too much fun bugging you about it.” He pulled on my sleeve. “Lamest holiday ever. The beach was full of rocks and the water was ice-cold. We didn’t go swimming the whole week.”

  “Are you eating, Rasheed?” Rick said. He didn’t sound mad, though. “You have to eat something before practice.”

  Rasheed stuffed the sandwich into the bag. “Mom knows I hate tuna. I’m not hungry, anyway. And besides, we can get burgers at Johnny’s after.” He pulled on my sleeve again. “Have you been there?” I shook my head. “Best burger place in the world. We gotta take Jonathon to Johnny’s, Dad.”

  He laughed. “We will, but not tonight. At least eat your banana.”

  “Do you like tuna?” he asked me.

  “Sure.”

  I might have said that a bit too loud. A soggy piece of bread would have been okay, let alone a sandwich.

  I couldn’t slow down and probably looked like a massive pig. The sandwich disappeared big-time fast. Rick and Rasheed talked about the team while I ate. The Rangers had been together for three years, but after last season four of their best players, including Matthew, had left to play for the Red Wings.

  I felt something poke me in the ribs. Rasheed put his finger to his lips and tossed a banana onto my lap. I polished that off and gave him the peel, which he held up so his dad could see it in the rear-view mirror.

  “I finished the banana,” Rasheed said to his dad. “What should I do with this?”

  “We’ll get rid of it at the rink. We should be there in ten minutes,” Rick said.

  “Can you turn on some tunes?” Rasheed asked.

  I leaned back. My hands were getting their feeling back. I wished I could have said the same for my feet. They weren’t going to thaw out for a while, for sure. Still, I wasn’t complaining. I was fed and mostly warm. I closed my eyes and listened to the music.

  • • •

  My heart started racing. Where was I?

  “Jonathon. Jonathon. Long day at the office?”

  The voice seemed to come from far away.

  “Practice time.”

  Someone was shaking me — Rasheed. I snapped out of my fog and remembered where I was, then stumbled out of the van behind him. Rick was holding my bag and stick out to me. I was so embarrassed I couldn’t look at him when I took my stuff. Falling asleep — what a doofus move. Rasheed must be thinking I was the biggest loser.

  I followed Rick and Rasheed to the rink, my nerves getting worse with practically every step. I couldn’t believe this was really happening. This was crazy, going to a hockey practice, as if I were a normal, everyday kid, as if I had a home, parents, school, friends.

  But to be honest, I wanted to make this team more than anything. I couldn’t imagine my life without it, going back to the Underground and admitting I didn’t make it to Will and Rose, so they could rub it in my face. I steeled myself as we went into the dressing room.

  “Tremendous. You came,” Lou said to me. “I have some equipment for you to try on.”

  Chapter 13

  I was totally wiped out. Lou had seemed so laid back the first time I’d met him. Now he was a certifiable maniac, making us skate in circles, backward and forward and sideways and jumping. My legs were limp as spaghetti when he blew his whistle and waved us to the bench. I was a little irritated that I was the only one who seemed out of breath.

  “I want to work on our power play a bit,” Lou said. “Give me Rasheed, Jacob and Derrick up front, with Collin and Peter on D.” He looked around and his eyes settled on me. “Penalty killers will be Michael and … Jonny as forwards, and Simon and Carlos on defence. Andrew can start in net for the power play; Nicholas, you be on the kill. The rest of you go on the bench for now.”

  The other players scampered off the ice. “We’re having a ton of trouble breaking out of our end and getting into the neutral zone with speed,” Lou said to us. “We’ll go the whole ice; the team with the man advantage has the puck.”

  Rasheed and his linemates skated to the far end. Lou tugged on my sweater and pointed at the whiteboard with a marker.

  “Here’s our penalty-killing system. One man deep, and he forces the play left or right. Second man stays at the blue line and looks to intercept a pass or force the play to the outside. If the puck gets past you, hustle back and set up the box. Got it?”

  I nodded — but I most definitely did not get it. I knew the box meant the four penalty killers formed a box in our end in front of our goalie. Ron was a creep, but he knew a lot about hockey and he taught me stuff when we watched games on TV. I also remembered a few things my coaches told me. But we never had any systems. We just went after the puck.

  Michael glided over. “I’ll be first in. You take the left point in our end.” He didn’t wait for an answer, and skated off.

  Lou shot the puck down the right wall, and Michael took off after it. I followed, not too sure exactly where to go. Lou told me to anticipate the pass. Peter had it behind his net. Jacob didn’t look that eager, and I knew Derrick loved to carry it. I gambled on him and cheated his way. Then like a total doofus Peter passes it, and I’m right there to pick it off. I’m laughing it was so easy. Andrew came out to challenge, but I figured the short side up high was open — the puck banged off the post and in.

  Lou blasted his whistle. He didn’t look too happy. “That was good … Michael, Jonny.” He pointed at Peter. “Maybe not so good on the breakout. Can we try again?”

  Andrew shovelled the puck to Peter, and I drifted backward to the blue line. This time Derrick circled behind the net and scooped up the puck. Michael cut left to head him off. Since Jacob was a pylon, I didn’t worry about
him. For sure Derrick would drop it to Peter, and right on cue when Michael got near, Derrick dropped it. If Peter then passed it across to Jacob I’d have been beat for sure, but he tried to deke and I stripped him of the puck, beat the goalie on a backhand deke, and flipped it into the left corner.

  Lou blasted his whistle — he loved that thing — and he looked real grumpy. “Which side’s got the power play?” Peter banged his stick on the ice, which made me feel kind of good. I’d burned him twice already.

  Lou snapped his fingers. “I’ve got an idea,” he said with a sour face. “Let’s have Jonny on D this time. Peter, take a break.”

  Peter stared at Lou, real unhappy. “I’ll get it next time,” he said. “The puck hit his skate by accident. I’ve got it figured out.”

  “I just want to try it once,” Lou said. “No big deal. Have a seat on the bench and I’ll get you back in.”

  Peter had a bit of a hissy fit, which reminded me of J.J. Lou gave me the puck. “Start behind the net. Skate with it until you feel pressure, then pass it to an open wing. If you get it in the offensive zone, look to Collin for the big slapper.” He turned to the bench. “Daniel, take Jonny’s place on the kill.”

  I took the puck behind the net like he told me and came out the right side. Michael charged me, but I expected that and switched it inside and got past him. That Daniel kid covered Derrick, so I kept going. Rasheed drifted wide right. The defenceman, Simon, had one hand on the stick and the other up in the air like he was answering a question or something. I dangled the puck behind me, head-faked to the inside, then bounced outside. I’d practised that ten thousand times at the rink and it was second nature. Simon fell for the inside move and I was in alone.

  Nicholas came way out. Was he crazy? That made it easy for me. I took it hard to my backhand and stuffed it in before he could jam his pad against the post.

  Lou waved me over. He still didn’t look happy. “You forced your wingers to hold up at the blue line, and I think Derrick was offside on that goal. Pass once you get open, or get to the red line and dump it into the corner.”

  Wasn’t the point of the game to score?

  “So I shouldn’t carry it in by myself?”

  “Not all the time. We need to work on our passing too.” He slapped my shoulder. “But as the kids say, that was sweet.”

  That made me feel better.

  “Let’s try it again,” Lou shouted.

  I was happy to. This was more fun than eating a hot dog at the station, than ten Chinese buns, even more fun than hanging with Lewis on the couch. This was real hockey, with other kids, in an indoor arena. I could have played forever.

  • • •

  After the practice ended two other adults, the assistant coaches, began collecting the pucks, and all the players headed off the ice. I looked for a loose puck to take a few more shots. I didn’t want this to end. We’d gone over the power play a few more times — and I did pretty good. Rasheed and I scored a few times, and Collin blasted in two from the point off my passes.

  “Hey, Jonathon. Like, how many did you score?”

  Collin and Rasheed skated over.

  “I dunno. A couple, I guess.”

  “A couple,” Collin snorted. “I think a couple hundred is more like it.” He put his arm around my neck. “I can’t believe how a little guy like you can skate with the puck all the time and never get hit — and that shot! You got a cannon, harder than mine, and I’m way bigger.”

  Rasheed squeezed my arm. “Small but strong. Check out these pipes.”

  That probably came from climbing the ladder in and out of the Underground.

  “Can I talk to you for a second?” Lou called out to me.

  I joined him at the boards. The two other adults were there also.

  “This is Ian and Malcolm,” Lou said. “They’re the assistant coaches. We all liked what we saw.”

  “Maybe we need to work on some positioning and passing,” Malcolm added.

  “And we love that shot,” Ian said.

  “I confess I was worried about the size factor,” Lou said. “You skate like the wind and always keep your head up.” He rubbed his chin with his hand. “So do you think you’re up for it?”

  “Up for what?”

  Lou laughed. “Up for joining the Rangers. We’d love to have you play for the rest of the season.”

  “We just have to work out something for the fee,” Malcolm said.

  I hated that Malcolm. Of course, they’d charge me to play. I was so dense sometimes.

  “Maybe your parents can call us,” Malcolm continued.

  Not likely!

  “Is that going to be a problem?” Lou asked quietly.

  More like impossible. “My uncle just bought me skates, and a stick, and gloves. I don’t think I can ask him for more; and my mom doesn’t have … she won’t be able to … she told me that …”

  The coaches were just looking at me.

  “Thanks for the equipment and everything. I’ll leave it in the dressing room,” I said.

  “Hold on, son,” Lou said. “I hate to think a boy with your natural talent can’t play because of money — hockey’s too expensive as it is.” He waved his hand. “Forget the fee. We have enough money for this year.”

  He held out his hand. “Welcome to the Rangers.” I couldn’t believe it. I shook his hand, and then shook with Ian and Malcolm, although I noticed Malcolm snuck a look at Lou that I knew meant he wasn’t happy about the money. But Lou was the boss, so I didn’t care. The Rangers — this was over the top.

  “Head on in and we’ll announce it to the team,” Lou said.

  So off we went to the dressing room. I heard Rasheed laughing as Lou pushed the door open.

  “I never miss,” Rasheed was saying. Collin’s mouth was wide open and Rasheed was about to let fly with a tape ball.

  “Hold it down to a dull roar,” Lou said. “And you can drop the tape, Rasheed.”

  Rasheed laughed and threw the tape into a garbage can.

  “Swish! A trey,” Rasheed said, holding his arms over his head.

  “Jonny has agreed to join the Rangers family in place of Brandon,” Lou announced.

  The room went real quiet, which kind of worried me. Rasheed clapped and said, “Awesome,” and Collin said, “That’s great, coach.” Everyone else just sat there. Peter and Jacob were obviously mad. Derrick didn’t look too stoked either. It was hard to tell about the others.

  Lou clapped me on the shoulder. “I’ll need you to sign some forms, and also for your parents to sign the insurance waiver. Get changed and I’ll get them for you from the car.”

  I was too stunned to answer. It all happened so fast. I’d actually made a hockey team, like a regular kid. I was a Reggie!

  I sat next to Rasheed, and Collin came over.

  “This is seriously cool, dude,” Collin said. “With you we might actually win a game.”

  Rasheed and Collin high-fived. I took off my helmet and started to untie my skates, trying hard to keep calm. I felt like jumping up and down and screaming like crazy, because I was so stoked.

  If those loser Undergrounders could see me now!

  Chapter 14

  I coughed until I thought my eyes were going to pop out of my head. That stupid Rose must have made me sick. My cough sounded like hers. J.J. had it too. Last night Will threw a total fit because we all couldn’t stop coughing.

  “This spot sucks eggs,” J.J. said, hugging himself around the chest and rubbing his sides with his hands. “How much have you hawked?”

  I dug out some change. J.J. snorted. “A dollar! Great. I only got fifty cents. What are we gonna buy for that?”

  I knew he was lying because I was lying too. I’d hidden another dollar in my sock.

  “Not our fault. It’s too cold to hawk. The Reggies aren’t walkin’ around.”

  “Let’s try near the TV station,” he suggested.

  “Will said to wait here,” I said.

  “Will Sch
mill,” J.J. sneered. He was always talking tough when people weren’t around. “This is dumb. Come on.”

  But I wanted to hang around because I had a hockey game tonight and I needed to get my equipment. Besides, Will and Rose were hawking at the subway station and we were going to pool our money for food, which I could use because my money was getting low and I’d skipped eating this morning.

  “Let’s wait another minute,” I offered.

  “Don’t be dumb. I want to go. This is lame.”

  “What’s so great about the TV station? It’s way lamer.”

  “You’re being lame. You afraid to go there or something?”

  “That’s dumb. I’ve been there like a thousand times.”

  J.J. shrugged. “Then a thousand and one won’t kill you.” He turned and headed down the street.

  No way I’d let myself look like a weenie to J.J. He’d tell everyone that I was too scared. I’ve got to admit that I was nervous about it. A lot of Streeters hung out there. I’d heard about fights breaking out and worse — not good for a guy whose nickname is Mouse.

  And sure enough a pile of Streeters were in front. The station had huge windows so you could look in from the sidewalk. Sometimes they even had rock stars inside performing, or so Lewis told me.

  “We shouldn’t bother,” I tried one last time. “There’s too much competition to hawk here.”

  “I wanna see the studio,” J.J. insisted.

  He is such an idiot.

  “We won’t make any money. There’s like ten Streeters and they all …”

  “Forget you. I’m gonna look.”

  I really wanted to brain the guy. He was so stubborn, although I admit he didn’t seem scared. J.J. slipped past some Streeters I didn’t recognize and pushed his way to the front, and practically pressed his nose into the glass. I couldn’t have cared less and stayed back. I needed money more than to see some doofus rock star. I needed the rent and I wanted a Chinese bun, and if I could swing it I was totally in the mood for a Coke.

  The next second I was sprawled out on the sidewalk and looking up at a big hunk of nasty named W5.

  “If it ain’t Lewis’s little doggie.”