Cash, Hoffer and Gruny hopped over the boards for Blue on the fly. The coaches had switched things up for this scrimmage and moved some lines around.
Rocket took a look at the scoreboard. Red 6, Blue 4. Guys were trying to get noticed and defence had taken a back seat. The poor goalies were having a tough go.
On the whole, Rocket couldn’t be happier. His line had been magic. Nathan had notched a goal with his killer shot, and Kyle had gotten one on a wraparound. As for himself, Rocket had scored Red’s first marker in the first period on a pretty tic-tac-toe passing play in front of the net.
“I’m changing my highlight reel to this game.” Kyle grinned and took a slurp of water. “You’re the sweetest player I’ve ever played with. I’d pick you over Cash any day.”
“Cash got a nice goal,” Rocket said.
“You got one, too,” Nathan said.
“I’ll give you that,” Rocket deadpanned.
His linemates laughed.
“Rockwood’s line next,” Washington said. “Look alive. Let’s keep the puck in their end.”
Bourque’s line was out, and they seemed to have heard the coach. They dumped the puck in and skated over. Rocket was over the boards first and he cruised into the Blue end. Cash’s line stayed on.
A Blue defenceman skated the puck out. He dropped it to his partner, who cut right and passed to Gruny against the boards, a metre outside his blue line. Gruny banked it off the wall, with Cash flashing up the side. Kyle was there to break it up, and he and Cash scuffled for the puck. Rocket got over there and pulled the puck out from their skates. He saw a flash of red go by — Nathan.
The puck rolled on its edge. Rocket had to take a second to lay it flat, and then he snapped it to Nathan who was powering up the middle. Nathan took the pass mid-stride and bore in on goal — a breakaway.
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Nathan slapped the ice. The referee’s arm was over his head, and he was pointing to the offside dot. Rocket skated to Nathan.
“My bad. Puck was on its side. I should’ve got it to you faster,” Rocket said.
Nathan tapped Rocket’s shin pads. “Not sure I was offside. I think it was a bad call.”
“Consider it a goal,” Rocket said.
The referee blew his whistle. Rocket hustled to the faceoff. He’d only had two draws so far against Cash. He’d watched him all camp, though. Cash relied on his reflexes and timing — and he was good at it. He didn’t like the rough stuff much, didn’t like it greasy, which was precisely what Rocket had in mind.
“Hey, Little Guy, sorry this is your last scrimmage with OHL players,” Cash sneered.
Rocket kept his eyes fixed on the ref’s hand. The puck dropped. Cash slapped at it. Rocket blocked his stick and then knocked Cash off balance with his shoulder. It was an easy kick over to his left defenceman, who cross-iced the puck to his partner. Unfortunately, the puck hopped over the defenceman’s stick. Rocket took a step that way.
“Out of my way, midget,” Cash said, applying a good two-handed slash to Rocket’s right hand.
Rocket bent over, holding his hand. Cash skated away.
“Sure, run away, weasel!” Rocket yelled.
His hand was in serious pain. He needed to get to the bench. But he couldn’t now. They had to get the puck in deep.
He curled into the neutral zone to create space for his wingers. Red’s defenceman had retrieved the errant puck and backed up with it. He looked around and swung it back to his partner. Rocket turned that way. The whistle sounded.
Rocket spun around. Cash lay on the ice. Nathan stood over him.
“Sorry,” Nathan said. “You had your head down and ran into me,”
Cash got to one knee slowly. “Cheap shot, idiot. Stupid hack.”
Nathan dropped his hands to his sides. “I didn’t hit you. Seriously.”
Hoffer came up and shoved Nathan away with a two-hander to his chest.
Nathan pushed Hoffer back. “He ran into me. Not my fault.”
“Break it up, boys,” the referee said.
The two linesmen pulled them apart.
“Call the penalty, ref,” Cash snapped. “What were you looking at? I didn’t have the puck.”
The referee pointed to the bench. “Gold wants you to change,” he said.
Cash slapped the ice with his stick. He gave Nathan a hard look and skated to his bench.
Hoffer skated backward. “Next shift, jerk,” he said. “You’re mine.”
Nathan looked up at the ceiling.
“What happened?” Rocket asked him.
“I was cutting into the seam, figuring you’d get the pass, and Cash turned and skated into me. He wasn’t looking,” Nathan said.
“I saw it,” Kyle said. “No worries — a hockey play.”
It was obvious Nathan felt bad. He wasn’t that type of player.
Rocket looked over to his bench, hoping for a change. Washington’s arms were crossed. The one time Rocket wanted to get off and he had to stay on.
“Flush it,” Rocket said. “We got to fire up again. We’ll be lucky to get one more shift. We’re going to make this team, all three of us. One more goal is all we need. No letting up.”
Kyle slapped their shin pads and took his spot at left wing across from Fryer. Bossy ambled over next to Nathan on the right. Rocket’s former linemates had been transferred to Blue, along with Cash’s line, for this scrimmage.
Rocket bent down for the draw. He figured he’d try a backhand sweep to his right defence. Blue’s centre put his stick down. The referee, however, was off to the side, intently studying the puck. Rocket and the other centre stood up.
“Has he never seen a puck before?” Rocket joked.
Blue’s centre didn’t react.
Rocket bit his lower lip. Apart from Kyle and Nathan, did anyone on this team not hate him?
“Sorry, bro, but we got to go,” Bossy said to Nathan.
Rocket looked over in surprise.
“I didn’t mean to hit him,” Nathan said. “You saw it. He ran into me.”
“Sorry,” Bossy shrugged. “Orders from the top.” He pushed Nathan in the chest.
“This is stupid,” Nathan said.
Bossy pushed Nathan again, and then he dropped his stick and gloves and backed up, fists raised.
Nathan looked over to the referee, who still seemed fascinated with the puck. The two linesmen circled, but neither made a move to stop the fight. Nathan’s face tensed and he let his stick and gloves fall to the ice, too.
The referee spun the puck in the air, caught it and backed up to the wall.
Bossy feinted a left jab, then a right hook. Nathan circled left.
“Teach the hack some manners,” Cash shouted from the bench. Rocket almost laughed out loud. Who was Cash to call anyone a hack after his garbage slash?
“Kill him, Boss-Man,” Hoffer added.
The players on both benches were standing.
Bossy threw a left. Nathan deflected it with his right and responded with his own jab. Bossy avoided it easily, but Nathan wasn’t done. He followed immediately with another left, and then a left-right combination — the right catching Bossy on his cheek. Bossy shook his head.
Rocket was shocked when he saw Bossy’s face. The guy could have been reading a book or watching television. There was no hint of anger.
Bossy pressed forward with a number of vicious jabs. Several connected. Nathan began circling right, bobbing his head and weaving. He hit Bossy with another right hand. Bossy grabbed Nathan’s arm and began raining sweeping haymakers. Nathan continued to weave and he leaned as far back as he could. Suddenly, Nathan launched his own right. Bossy’s head snapped back. Bossy let go of Nathan’s arm and jabbed him. The punch caught Nathan by surprise. Rocket could see a trickle of blood coming from Nathan’s nose.
Without warning, Bossy threw a thunderous right hook to Nathan’s chin. Nathan’s knees buckled, but only for a second. Then he charged Bossy and wrapped his arms around his neck. Bossy grabbed him around the shoulders. Again, Rocket noticed Bossy’s face: eyes flat, no emotion.
“Let go, boys,” a linesman said. He was pulling Nathan’s left arm away.
Bossy released Nathan and skated directly to the penalty box. The Blue players pounded the boards with their sticks. A few Red players did the same.
Rocket went over to Nathan.
“Awesome battle,” Rocket said. “Toe-to-toe with Bossy is impressive.”
Nathan gave his head a shake. “What was the point of that?”
“Good work, bro,” Kyle said. “We’ll call it a draw.”
“He got me pretty good at the end there,” Nathan said, rubbing his jaw.
“Looked like a love tap to me,” Kyle said.
“He must really love me.” Nathan laughed. He turned toward the penalty box.
A linesman grabbed him by the arm. “You need to get checked out,” he said.
Nathan shook his head. “I’m fine.”
“Concussion protocol,” the linesman insisted. “Coach’s orders. You got stung, so you got to be checked.”
Nathan tossed his hands in the air. “This is ridiculous. It was just a fight.”
The linesman pushed Nathan toward the door leading to the dressing rooms.
“Get off the ice already,” Cash called out.
“Shut up, jerk,” Kyle yelled back.
“Any time, bud,” Hoffer said, banging his stick on the boards.
“Forget them,” Rocket said. “Game’s almost over. Nathan did good — better than good. Gold will be impressed. Bossy’s a big-time fighter. Let’s change.”
He and Kyle skated to the bench. Washington didn’t say a word to them. Rocket sat on the bench and shifted over to make room for Kyle. The referee blew his whistle, and the centres lined up at the offside circle.
“That was a total set-up,” Rocket said. “Ref did nothing, linesmen did nothing. Alvo sent Bossy to fight on purpose.”
“Shhh,” Kyle said. “This isn’t the place.”
“But I heard Bossy …”
“Not now, trust me,” Kyle whispered.
Washington put his hands on Rocket’s shoulder pads. “Settle down or you can go to the dressing room,” he said, in a low, measured tone. “Understand?”
“Yes, Coach.” Rocket was so angry, he was afraid to say more.
Washington moved a few steps away.
“Nathan will be fine,” Kyle said. “His head is really hard. I bet Bossy hurt his hand.”
Rocket wasn’t ready to laugh it off.
“That was a set-up,” he whispered. “No reason for it. Nathan didn’t hit Cash.”
He prayed Nathan didn’t have a concussion. That could get him cut.
Then again, would the coaches have set Nathan up if they’d intended to keep him? Something else for Rocket to worry about as he watched the scrimmage come to an end.