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Brushing a damp shirt sleeve across his glistening forehead, T.J. grabbed his bottle of Gatorade and sank heavily onto the bench. It was the fifth day of practice, and T.J. had never been so exhausted in his life.
Today, Reynolds had been working them primarily in skating—skating backward, skating with one leg, skating in a square—and game situation drills—single leg stops, pivoting, turn gliding. It was sheer misery. As T.J. watched some of his teammates perform a five-on-three defensive face-off drill, he tried to remember what he had for homework that night. It was a lot, including an honors English paper to write, two tests to study for, and a lab report to complete. In addition, he had promised to meet Sherry at the library to help her with her algebra homework.
T.J. wished he had never agreed to tutor Sherry in math. He had nothing against her—she was a nice girl and a good friend, the first friend he'd made at Bayview on his own without Brad—but between practice and school he was lucky he had time to finish his own homework, never mind help Sherry with hers. Besides, she obviously had a crush on Brad from the way she always asked questions about his brother.
"Come on, Ames," Reynolds barked, "stay with him. I don't care if you have to stick to him like glue, you stay with him until that puck is out of your zone." A moment later, he shook his head and ordered, "Brett, go in for Ames." As Cory Ames nervously skated over to him, the coach said, "Cory, don't fore-check so fast. You're trying to let speed compensate for precision. Slow down a little and you'll be able to fake a check to make the puck carrier commit himself. Ryan!" he yelled. "Take this kid down to the other end of the ice and show him how to fore-check!" He turned back to Cory. "Other than that, kid, you're doing fine out there. It's better to iron it out now than in a game, right?"
T.J. smiled. In his own blustery way, Reynolds was trying to tell the gawky freshman to relax, and that he had made the team. While Reynolds appeared cool and crisp on the outside and was always blowing off steam, he never let a kid get discouraged or lose confidence, and T.J. liked that.
"Hey, T.J.," Steve said. He and Brad sat on the bench next to him. "Good practice."
"Thanks."
"Yeah, T.J., you did great. I wish I was as good as you are," Greg Winslow said from beside him. Greg was a fourteen-year-old freshman forward who for some reason had latched onto T.J. as a role model. He was a nice kid and a potentially good hockey player, but the way he hero-worshipped him and hung on his every word reminded T.J. of Jory.
His face hard, Brad slid further down the bench.
"Hey, do you need a ride home? My mom can give you one."
T.J. bit back a grin. "I would, but since practice didn't start till three today, I went home and got my car. Too bad your mom's coming. I would’ve given you a ride."
Greg pounced on that like a cat on a mouse. "Well, I can call her, maybe."
"Yeah, but she's probably already on her way."
Greg's face fell. "Oh, yeah."
T.J. suppressed another grin, and tried to remember if he had ever worshipped an older teammate like this. "Hey, maybe next time."
The words worked like magic, and Greg brightened. "Okay. Thanks, T.J."
Shaking his head, Brad stared into space.
Coach Reynolds suddenly shrilled on his whistle. "All right, come on over here. I've got a couple of announcements to make."
As the team spilled onto the bench in their blue and white practice jerseys, Reynolds said, "Okay, I suppose some of you are interested in who I chose for the final cut. Well, I've decided to keep everybody. Now obviously that means that some of you younger, more inexperienced kids aren't going to get a whole heck of a lot of playing time, but that's why I'm keeping you, so you'll gain experience. You'll learn more every practice you come to, every game you watch, and even if it's only for a few minutes, I promise. You will play.
"Now for the rest of you, I'm looking at a starting lineup that will be like this: first line, Steve, T.J., and Brad; second line, Mike, Glen, and Tony; third line, Brett, Ron, and Matt; and fourth line, Cory, Will, and Greg. For defensemen, it will be Russ and Mark, Max and Bobby, and Danny and Kirk, in that order. Trey will be our first goalie and Sage our second. There may be some changes made later on, but for now that's the way we're going to keep things. Okay, now after much consideration, I've decided that your cocaptains are going to be Brad and T.J., whom I'll talk to after practice."
T.J.'s eyes widened in shock. Brad he had expected, but himself? At a new school?
"Are there any questions?" Reynolds asked, glancing around. "Okay, congratulations to you all, and have a good day. You deserve it."
Instantly T.J. and Brad were surrounded by their teammates. "Congratulations!" Trey said, slapping them both on the back. "See, man, I told you you'd get it," he told Brad.
As his friends gave him high fives and patted him on the shoulder, Brad tried to smile. But as he looked at T.J., his eyes narrowed, and his hands clenched inside his gloves.
"You two should be very proud of yourselves," Reynolds told T.J. and Brad on the ice a few moments later. "I don't think I've ever appointed two nonseniors as cocaptains. I'm just glad to have you on my team. I assume the two of you are planning to play in college, or maybe even try to go pro?" They both nodded. "Well, this team is a very good stepping-stone. I know we can take the league title this year, and I'm also confident that we can make it far in the state tourney. I'm going to be expecting a lot of leadership out of you guys this season, and may even have you take over the warm-ups and some of the drills, so that Coach Ryan and I can give some of the other players individual attention in their weaknesses. So good luck and congratulations." He shook hands with both of them, and then disappeared into the locker room.
T.J. glanced at Brad, unsure of what to say. His brother didn't exactly look thrilled. But before he could say anything, Brad said abruptly, "Look, I'm gonna get a ride home with Steve," and skated off.
A few minutes later, T.J. was heading for his car when Steve's Toyota suddenly pulled up beside him. In front were Steve and Brad, and in back, Trey, Mark, and Brett. Brad was staring straight ahead. "Hey, if it isn't Captain T.J.," Trey commented, hanging out the window. "Tell me, T.J.," he said in a deep newscaster voice. "Does this token of leadership feel long overdue?" He held a pretend microphone in front of T.J.'s face.
T.J. burst out laughing. "Trey, you are such an idiot."
"Yep, that's what people call me," Trey agreed. "Well, just wanted to say congrats. Later, T.J." As they squealed off, T.J. grinned. But his grin faded as he thought of Brad. It wasn't hard to tell he was furious. Shaking his head, T.J. slid behind the wheel, wondering what it would be like when they saw each other at home.
...
"T.J.! Brad told us the good news," Barbara McKendrick exclaimed excitedly, coming around the kitchen table and kissing her son's cheek. "I'm so happy for you."
"Thanks, Mom. Hey, you wouldn't have by any chance saved me any supper, would you?" T.J. asked.
His mother smiled. "No, I'm just going to let one of my firstborn sons starve to death," she said, opening the refrigerator and drawing out a plastic-wrapped plate of spaghetti.
"Good, because I've never been so hungry in my life."
"Oh, I'm sure. So how was school today?" his mother asked as she removed the plastic and stuck the plate into the microwave. "Any better?"
"Yeah, it wasn't bad, actually," T.J. told her, leaning his hockey stick against the wall and sliding into a chair. "I'm really starting to make some friends, especially with the guys on the hockey team." He grinned. "There's this one little kid, who I swear must think I'm a pro hockey player or something. He follows me around like a puppy."
Barbara McKendrick laughed. "But that's so sweet," she said, sitting down opposite him. "You should be flattered."
"Hey, I hear you got made cocaptain," Chris commented, swaggering into the room.
"Yep."
Chris grinned. "It looks like I'm gonna be giving you guys some competition next year. I made captain of my team too."
"Yeah? Awesome. You sound a little cocky though, don't you?" T.J. asked.
"Not cocky. Confident. Better watch out for first line center, Teej," he said.
"Yeah, I'll say that's confident. Mom, want to get this kid a muzzle?"
"Gladly," Mrs. McKendrick said, laughing.
"Mom, Mom, guess what? I just beat Brad at Trivial Pursuit," Jory exclaimed, bursting into the room with Brad following.
Chris arched an eyebrow. "He beat you?" he asked Brad.
"Hey, it was the stupid Disney edition, okay?" Brad defended himself.
"Come on, come see the question I beat him on," Jory urged.
"Okay, okay we're coming," his mother said.
As Mrs. McKendrick and Chris followed Jory into the living room, Brad and T.J. stared at each other. Finally, T.J. said, "Look, you've been ticked at me since practice. You're mad that I got made cocaptain aren't you? Come on," T.J. said when Brad didn't respond. "I've got just as much right to it as you do."
Brad scoffed. "Hardly. I've been slaving on that team since I was a freshman."
"So? It's not like I've never played the game before."
"It doesn't matter. I've been playing for Bayview for three years and you haven't even played one game for them!"
"Look, it's not my fault that I got yanked out of Hayden! I didn't ask to go to Bayview. You think I wanted to leave all my friends and go to a new school? It's hard enough going there without you acting like such a jerk."
"You're the one who's acting like a jerk, T.J."
"You're just afraid that I'm going to do better than you, and you can't take it!"
"Are you kidding? You may be Dad's precious genius, but you're never going to be better than me at hockey. And if you think I'm playing on a line with you, you're crazy. So let's just see who Reynolds sends down a line, T.J.," Brad challenged his brother.
"Yeah, well have fun playing with McCann," T.J. snapped.
Brad shoved his brother into the refrigerator, and T.J. promptly pushed him back. They were grappling with each other when their father strode into the room and ripped them apart.
"What on earth is going on in here?" Mr. McKendrick demanded, his face red.
"Nothing," Brad said.
"Nothing?" Mr. McKendrick asked.
"Nothing other than the fact that T.J. is an obnoxious jerk."
"Hey, you're the one who's threatening to quit the line," T.J. said.
"I'm not threatening to quit the line. I'm threatening to get you kicked off it."
T.J.'s green eyes flashed. "Go to hell!"
"Look, I don't know what this is about," their father began, "but you two have an obligation to your teammates. You can't just go back on that because of personal differences."
"He started it," T.J. said.
"I don't care who started it. I just want it stopped."
Suddenly the telephone rang, and to T.J.'s relief after the third ring Chris called out, "Yo, T.J., telephone."
His father sighed. "Don't stay on too long," he said. "I imagine you've got quite a bit of homework to do."
"Right, Dad." Happy to get out of the room, T.J. grabbed his books and escaped into the living room.
"Here. I think it's Kevin," Chris told him, handing his brother the cordless. He was down on the floor, playing Trivial Pursuit with his mother and Jory and sneaking glances at the TV.
"Is everything okay in there, T.J.?" his mother asked.
Nodding, T.J. carried the phone up to his room and flopped down onto the bed. "Hello?"
"Hey, Teej, it's Kevin."
"And Tricia on the kitchen extension," Tricia added.
"Hi. How're you guys doing?"
"Pretty good," Kevin replied.
"How's hockey going?"
"The team looks good. Did you hear who got made captain?"
"No, who?"
"Anderson."
"That jerk?"
"No kidding," Kevin said.
"Better not get him worked up about it, T.J.," Tricia warned, "or, believe me, you'll never get him off the subject. He's been complaining about this for two days."
"Well, it's just because he's a senior, Trish. If you were still at Hayden, Teej, it wouldn't have happened. So who got captain at Bayview?"
T.J. sighed. "My brother and I."
"T.J., that's wonderful," Tricia said. "Congratulations. You don't sound too happy about it, though."
"It's just my brother. He's being a real jerk about it."
"I guess it must be tough for him," Tricia said. "He probably was counting on being captain, just like you were at Hayden."
"Well, I didn't ask to switch schools. Whose side are you on, anyway?"
"I'm not on anyone's side, T.J. I'm just saying that Brad's probably just as upset about you being at Bayview as you are. Maybe the two of you should talk about how you feel."
"Yeah, well it's not easy to talk to someone who's barely speaking to you."
"Hey, let's get off this subject," Kevin cut in. "Other than hockey, how's Bayview?"
"Okay." T.J. suddenly realized he didn't want to talk to Kevin and Tricia anymore. How could they understand how he felt? They were still at Hayden, with all their friends—where he should be. He gave short answers to a few more questions from Kevin, then found an excuse to hang up.
Sighing, he returned to his homework. Talking to his friends should have made him feel better. Instead, he felt worse than ever.
...
It was the first game of the season, and the Bayview Jets were playing against the Brentwood Hawks. They were in the Brentwood arena and the stands were packed. T.J. went to take the opening face-off, his stomach in knots. Brad and Steve were to his right and left, Russ and Mark in back, and Trey in goal.
As the referee, in his black and white striped shirt, bent over the face-off circle at center ice, T.J. swallowed hard. The referee held the puck over his right shoulder and motioned both centers back a bit from the face-off spot. T.J. and the Hawks' center stared down at the spot, their sticks poised a few inches off the ice as they anticipated the drop. The referee dropped the puck and the two centers slashed their sticks at it. T.J. won the draw, sliding the disk back to Brad, who sent it into the Hawks' zone and took off after it. Brad caught it on his stick again, and that was the last T.J. saw of the puck.
Midway through the first period, Brad overtook a Brentwood defenseman trying to carry the puck out of his defensive zone. Placing his stick under the defenseman's, he lifted it off the ice. He then scooped the puck back toward him with his own stick and headed toward the goal.
The move caught the Hawks' players going the other way, leaving only one defenseman back. T.J. reversed his direction, and it was a two-on-one. Brad, skating down the right lane, was shifting the puck back and forth against his stick's blade. T.J. was riding in on the goalkeeper in the left lane, and the lone defenseman was trying to stay in the middle of the two forwards. Come on, Brad, pass it, T.J. thought. He was right in front of the crease and had an open shot over the goaltender's right shoulder. But instead of passing, Brad went for the shot himself, only to have the goalie catch it easily in his large mitt. Sighing, T.J. rapped his stick onto the ice.
"Brad, what were you doing? I was open!" T.J. said a few minutes later as they skated over to the bench for a line change.
Not even looking at him, Brad climbed over the boards and took a drink out of his water bottle.
"Come on, will you pass the puck?" When Brad didn't respond, T.J. sank down onto the bench in frustration.
By the end of the first period, T.J. had had the puck only three times, and only because he had won it on a face-off or had intercepted it from an opposing player. Even Steve, their linemate, hadn't had much control over it. By some miracle, Brentwood hadn't yet scored on them, and the game was 0-0.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" T.J. demanded of Brad as the team filed into the locker room. "You're costing us the game!"
"Get out of my face." Brad set his stick against a locker.
T.J. threw his helmet onto the floor. "Are you blind? I was open four times! We could have been up 4-0!"
"Don't flatter yourself, T.J."
"Look, I'm just telling you that you'd better pass the puck," T.J. snapped.
"Or what?"
"Hey, guys, come on," Trey, who had come up behind them, said in a low voice. "Calm down."
"Stay out of my way," Brad told his brother. He elbowed past him and sat down on the bench.
After Reynolds had harped about how they needed to come together and play as a team, the Jets streamed back out onto the ice. As T.J. got set for the draw, he glanced over at his brother, who was staring stormily ahead. Sighing, he returned his gaze to the face-off circle.
T.J. got the puck from the face-off, and once he had it, he refused to give it up. Pushing the puck forward with the blade of his stick, he headed up the ice. At the Hawks' blue line, he was blocked trying to slip through the defense. Shooting the rubber into the backboards, he darted past two green and white shirted defensemen and raced after it.
A Brentwood defenseman jabbed his shoulder into T.J.'s side, and T.J. could feel his stick rattling against the boards as they went after the loose puck.
Finally digging the disk out of the corner, T.J. swung around the boards. Brad was in front of the net, but T.J. wasn't about to relinquish the puck. Even though a defenseman was on his tail, T.J. tried to get into a good position himself.
Suddenly the defenseman cut in front of him and hooked the puck off T.J.'s stick. Rushing down the length of the ice, he passed it to a forward, who curled it over Trey's right shoulder. 1-0 Hawks.
"Yeah, you're really doing great, T.J.," Brad said, skating past him.
T.J. gritted his teeth and refused to pass once to Brad during the rest of the period. During the few times that Brad had control of the puck, he continued keeping it away from T.J.
When the team returned back to the locker room, Coach Reynolds pulled the brothers aside. "What is the matter with you two? What do you think this is, a competition?"
They both shuffled uncomfortably. "This is not an individual sport, this is a team sport, and the object is to play as a team," he said. "You two are supposed to be linemates, but you've barely passed to each other all night, and on top of that, you're both making ridiculous shots. You're the cocaptains; you're supposed to set an example. And since you're not setting one, I'm going to make you an example. I'm benching both of you for the third period."
"I've never been benched in my life!" Brad said.
"Well then, I guess that means you've never played a game as terribly as this in your life," Reynolds replied.
"Coach, come on!" Brad said.
"Look, just put me on another line," T.J. said.
"No," Reynolds said. "You play on the original line or you don't play on any line. Now you're both benched and that's it."
"Thanks a lot, Brad," T.J. said as Reynolds strode away.
"Hey, don't blame me," Brad responded.
A while later, as the clock began ticking away the minutes in the third period, T.J. folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the clear partition separating him from the crowd.
The score remained 1-0 until, with five minutes left in the game, a Hawks' defenseman faked toward the net and then flicked a wrist shot over Trey's left shoulder. As the player's stick lifted in victory, T.J. stood up. "Coach, come on, put me in," he said. "There's only five minutes left."
"Sit down, McKendrick," Reynolds ordered. "Ron, go in for Glen."
Fuming, T.J. sank back onto the bench. "I can't believe he's not putting you in," Greg said from beside him.
T.J. just stared ahead, his face expressionless.
Steve got two more shots on goal and Ron one, but all were fruitless. Bayview wound up losing 2-0.
"A terrible effort," Reynolds said once the game was over and the players were in the locker room. Everyone was quiet. "I want to see some serious changes out there, both in strategy and in the attitudes of certain players." He froze Brad and T.J. with a hard look. "We're playing Crestwood in two days, and I expect a complete turnaround by then. Now go get ready for the ride home."
Glaring at Brad, T.J. bent down and began unlacing his skates.
