CHAPTER 18

“Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for your London Knights!”

The arena erupted in cheers, the fans on their feet, as the Knights tore onto the ice. Spotlights danced around the giant emblem at centre.

Rocket pushed off on his inside edge to carve a wide circle behind the net. His nerves were jumping at an all-time high. The arena was almost full — nine thousand people.

He circled at the top of the neutral zone and sliced the dot in half with his blade. Last out of the room, elbow pads before shoulder pads — he couldn’t do anything more to get the hockey gods on his side.

“Rocket, how wild is this?”

Ty was against the boards, stick held across his waist, wearing a grin that seemed too big for his face.

Rocket skidded to a stop on one skate and slapped Ty’s shin pads.

“A little different from Mooreville Park Arena,” Rocket said. They’d played there when they were younger.

“Just a little. How was camp?” Ty said.

“Totally intense. I think I’m still on the bubble ’cause of my size.”

“You’ll make it. They only have to see you play.”

They’d always been each other’s biggest fans.

“How was your camp?” Rocket said.

Ty laughed. “What can I say? It was hockey, hockey, hockey. Fun, though. Good group of guys. Ad-man’s doing good, too. I think he plays his first game tomorrow.”

“He texted me.”

Ty slapped Rocket’s shin pads. “Have a good one, bud.”

“Bring it,” Rocket said, before skating off along the wall.

Hard not to be jealous. It sounded like Ty had a great time at camp — no way he had to worry about getting his head shaved.

The music blared. Rocket let it fire him up and he took off behind the net. He was done worrying. He had a game to play.

“Rockwood!” Gold yelled.

Rocket stopped and went to the bench. “Yes, sir?”

Gold’s eyes narrowed and the veins in his neck bulged. “What colour is your jersey?”

Rocket felt sick.

“What colour is your jersey?” Gold repeated.

“Black, red and white.”

“Are you wearing London Knights colours?”

“No, sir.”

“Have I made my point?”

“Yes, sir.”

Alvo came over. “Continue warming up, please,” he said.

Gold stepped away. Rocket skated hard around the ice. Gold didn’t understand. He’d try harder than anyone to beat Ty. They were like that, always pushing each other to be the best.

Somehow Rocket always managed to say or do the wrong thing around Gold. Alvo obviously saw what happened, too.

The siren sounded and the fans started to roar. The game was about to begin. The players on both sides filed into their respective benches.

Rocket was on the fourth line and would be out last. Cash’s line had drawn the starting assignment — against Ty.

The national anthem played, the players swaying back and forth, shifting from foot to foot, waiting for the song to end. After what felt like forever, the whistle blew and the game began. The first few minutes were ragged, each team feeling the other out. Rocket began to prepare himself as the third line hopped the boards.

“Cash, get ready. Your line is next,” Washington barked.

Bossy kicked the boards with his skate. Fryer slid back down the bench. Rocket followed in a daze. Did they not trust him because he spoke to Ty?

“Tight game, boys,” Washington said. “We need to keep our feet moving — and more energy, please.”

Rocket felt his energy disappear. He watched shift after shift. The teams continued to show their jitters, with missed passes and wide shots.

“Just like last year,” Bossy said to Fryer. “Sit on our butts all game until they want a fight. Coach said it would be different.”

He sounded more like a disappointed kid than a dangerous fighter. Rocket sneaked a look. Bossy’s face was blank and his eyes were dull.

Eight minutes were left in the first period. The Knights were up by one, a power-play marker.

A referee stopped by their bench. He reached over and helped himself to a squirt of water.

“I thought I saw a hold, ref,” Alvo said.

The ref laughed. “Hey, Coach. How’s it going? Looks like a good squad this year.”

“Not if we play like this,” Alvo said.

“First exhibition game.” The referee shrugged and skated off.

Rocket hadn’t seen that side of Alvo before. He’d sounded almost human.

The third line went out to replace Bourque’s.

“Rockwood’s line next,” Washington said.

Rocket felt a surge of adrenalin race through him. His line moved to the door.

“Don’t be afraid to mix it up out there,” Gold said to Bossy and Fryer. “We need our energy line to make something happen.”

Bossy grunted and lowered his head.

“You get me, Bossy?”

“Yeah,” Bossy said without looking up.

Gold slapped his shoulder pads. “Let’s start working, Axmen. Hit someone. Take the body. We’re playing like little boys. C’mon!”

Rocket hated having Gold behind the bench. All he did was scream at them to “take the body” — and he was constantly abusing the refs. He reminded Rocket of those out-of-control fathers in minor hockey.

Again, Rocket sneaked a glance at Bossy. His face was still expressionless. Impossible to know what he was really thinking. Rocket had a hunch he wanted Gold and Alvo to give him a chance to prove he was more than a brawler — to let him play the game.

Rocket thought about what Gold had said — the energy line should make something happen.

“What do you guys think of The Breakaway?” he said to Bossy and Fryer. The puck was in the Axmen’s end. If there was a whistle, their line could run it.

“I like it when I have one,” Bossy said.

“No — the breakout play called The Breakaway,” Rocket said.

“Seriously?” Fryer said.

“They won’t expect it. They’ll probably think you two are out to start a fight. So, whoever’s against the boards on a draw in our end, let’s say it’s Bossy, you mess around with their winger, as if you want to drop the gloves. If I win the draw, I’ll pass it to Rainer on D. Bossy, you head up the wall, and then when Rainer passes the puck back to me, you cut into the gap between the Knights’ defencemen, about two or three metres over the blue line. I’ll hit you with the pass. It’s going up the middle, so it’ll be hard. I’ll have to saucer it.”

On the ice, Glassy caught a weak shot from the point and held on for a faceoff.

“Okay?” Rocket said. “Do you get it?”

“Not that complicated, Little Guy,” Bossy said.

Rocket stood up. “Then do it,” he snapped.

Fourth-line guys shouldn’t be so arrogant, even if they were veterans.

“Change ’em,” Washington said.

Rocket hopped out the door and took a few quick strides to loosen his legs. He had no idea if his linemates would do the play. In any event, Bossy was the one against the boards. He’d get the breakaway, if it worked out.

Rocket had to win that draw, though. He flexed the fingers of his right hand.

“Get ready for more pain,” he said under his breath.

He ducked over to Rainer. “Set up more in the corner. I’m going to pull the draw to you. Look for me on Glassy’s glove side. We’re running The Breakaway.”

Rainer raised an eyebrow, then nodded.

The referee blew the whistle.

Bossy shoved the Knights’ right winger. He shoved back. Was Bossy going to do the play — or he was setting up a fight? Rocket glided to the circle and put his blade down. The referee held the puck out. Bossy and the winger crossed sticks and pushed against each other. The Knights’ centre moved his stick. The referee stood up and pointed out of the circle.

“I barely flinched,” the centre said.

“Move it,” the referee said.

The left winger took his spot.

This was perfect. Rocket forced himself to relax, so he wouldn’t give the play away. He had a way better chance of winning the draw against a winger. The referee held the puck out. Rocket’s eyes remained fixed on the ref’s hand. The next instant, the puck dropped. Rocket drove his right hand forward and his left hand back and, using his momentum, spun toward the net.

Step one: win the draw. Check.

Rainer had the puck. The Knights’ centre extended his stick toward it. Rainer held onto it and then slipped it deftly to Rocket by the post.

Step two: get puck back from defenceman. Check.

Bossy broke off in between the Knights’ defence. Rocket fired the puck up.

Step three: pass for the breakaway. Check.

Bossy took the puck in full stride and powered down the ice. The defence had been caught flat-footed and they were five metres behind. Bossy crossed the blue line, the crowd roaring and begging their goalie to stop it. Bossy faked a shot at the hash marks, took two more strides, faked a forehand, brought it over to his backhand and then slipped the puck between the goalie’s pads, five-hole.

Step four: score. Check!

The crowd groaned. A few Axmen supporters jumped to their feet to celebrate.

On their bench, the Axmen banged the boards with their sticks and high-fived each other. Rocket’s linemates headed over to slap gloves. Rocket followed self-consciously, head down. He slapped everyone’s gloves and went to centre for the draw.

The linesman gave the referee the puck. The Knights’ centre set up. Rocket got himself ready. The puck fell and their sticks clashed — and again Rocket won the draw. Unfortunately, the puck went between the defence and into the Axmen’s zone. Rainer swung wide with the puck, skating backward, and then drilled it cross ice to Big Z. Rocket curled in the neutral zone and accepted the outlet pass. The Knights’ left winger lunged at him. Rocket had too much speed, and he easily avoided the winger’s stick.

Rocket crossed the red line and lofted the puck toward Bossy in the corner, figuring the defenceman wouldn’t want to take a hit from Bossy. Rocket was right. The defenceman tried to drag the puck with the tip of his stick. Bossy banged him off it.

Fryer flew in from the right side. Bossy continued up the wall to the hash marks. On a hunch, Rocket went to the opposite corner. Bossy rang it around. Rocket couldn’t resist a smile as he gathered the puck in. That Bossy could play. The Knights’ centre and left winger pressed down. Rocket banked the puck off the wall to Big Z at the point. Both Knights turned to charge Big Z, who sent it right back to Rocket in the corner.

Rocket exploded toward the front of the net, hoping to catch the Knights by surprise. The goalie reacted by dropping into his butterfly and pressing his body against the post. Fryer battled for position in the high slot with the right winger. The right defenceman had Bossy by the far post. The left defenceman lowered his hands and laid his stick across the ice to block any pass. Rocket considered cutting back behind the net and setting up the cycle with Bossy. Then Bossy backed away from the post, and the right defenceman, thinking Rocket had no play in front, drifted closer to the middle of the net.

Rocket lowered his right hand and tipped the puck on his blade. It was a crazy idea, but he did it almost instinctively. He hopped over the left defenceman’s stick with the puck balanced on his blade — and the crowd went insane. The goalie pushed off the post and extended his legs to cover the bottom of the net. The right defenceman took a step forward and lowered his shoulder. He ploughed into Rocket’s chest. Rocket’s knees buckled and he fell, but not before he’d flicked the puck over to Bossy. Rocket hit the ice and rolled. The groan of the crowd took the hurt away. Bossy had put the puck in the net.

He felt a hand under his arm pulling him to his feet.

“Two goals in one shift,” Fryer said to him. “Maybe Alvo will put us on the ice once in a while.”

Bossy gave them both a big bear hug. “Awesome forecheck, boys,” he said.

Rainer and Big Z joined in. Rocket felt ridiculous trapped in the middle of this group hug, but there was no escape.

“Good puck movement,” Rainer said.

“Net presence, boys. Net presence,” Fryer said.

Finally, the guys peeled off. Cash’s line was already at centre. Rocket went to the bench.

Bossy got a hero’s welcome, the guys pounding him on the back and helmet.

“Mr. Superstar.”

“The beard is working its magic.”

“Way to snipe a pair, bro.”

Rocket took his place quietly. Two goals took the sting out of his throbbing hand.

Bossy sat down with a loud sigh. “I haven’t had two goals in one shift since …” He paused and then laughed, “since never.” He punched Rocket’s knee. “Good passes,” he said.

Washington crouched behind him. “Well done, Bossy. We hoped this would continue after camp. Great finishing — and great passing, Rocket.”

Rocket reached for some water. Nice for the coach to say that — and for the other boys to hear. Hopefully Fryer was right and Alvo would let them back on the ice sooner than later.

The play went end-to-end for the next minute, the two teams trading scoring chances. Ty had the puck in the Axmen’s end. Cash extended his stick at the puck. Ty slipped it between Cash’s stick and feet and then danced sideways and went by him. The left defenceman dropped to his knees to block the shot. Ty dragged the puck with his forehand to bring the puck to the outside of the defenceman’s left shoulder and fired a wicked snapper over Glassy’s glove hand.

Just like that, they were tied again.

“Change ’em,” Washington said.

“That was garbage,” Alvo said. “Can’t let a guy walk out in front like that without putting a body on him.”

“What’s with the short shift?” a woman called from the stands.

“Keep your goal scorers on the ice,” a man said.

The voices sounded familiar. Rocket turned to look — Cash’s parents were on their feet yelling at Alvo. They both wore Axmen sweaters.

Cash looked very unhappy as he came off. He gave Gold a pained look.

“Move over,” he said to Rocket.

“We’re before you,” Bossy said.

“Hey, Jamie,” Cash said to Gold. “Can we get back out there? I’ll get it back.”

Alvo leaned toward Washington’s ear and spoke.

“Rockwood’s line is next,” Washington barked.

Gold went over and said something to Washington, who spoke to Alvo. Then Alvo shook his head and said something back.

“Rockwood’s line is next,” Washington said simply.

Gold’s eyes narrowed and he stomped over to the far end of the bench, arms crossed.

The Breakaway had worked to perfection. Rocket figured another play was in order.

“As soon as we get a faceoff in their end, I’m going to knock the puck into the corner,” he said to Bossy and Fryer. “The closest winger fires it behind the net to the opposite winger, and then we set up the cycle. Don’t forget to look for the point shot.”

This time he got a warmer reception.

“Makes sense to me,” Bossy said.

“You got it,” Fryer said.

Rocket felt like he could skate through a brick wall or jump over a building. One shift at a time, one goal at a time, and he would be a centre for the Axton Axmen. He could feel it.