The speakers crackled, and then the song came back in clearly. Rocket licked his lips and sat up. The air in the bus was dry and he was dying for a drink, but the boys in the back had taken all the water bottles. There was no way he was going to ask for one.
He could never sleep on buses or trains, unlike Kyle, who’d conked out hours ago. He’d just leaned his head against the window and was gone. Most of the guys up front were sleeping. Even the guys in the back were fairly quiet now.
After the long trip there and back, the seats felt like concrete blocks. Of course, Rocket would travel another thousand kilometres to play a game like that again. He’d connected on a close in, one-timer feed from Fryer in the second for a goal. Then Fryer had put the game away with an empty-netter with a minute to go. They’d won 6–3, and his line had gotten four of the goals.
His hand hurt like crazy, though. He regretted not asking Chenny for some ice, but he still didn’t want Gold or Alvo to know. He’d fire the beanbag up when he got home. That thing was a lifesaver. He owed Devin big time.
Alvo had sounded almost happy after the game. “Rocky start. We have to fix that,” he’d said. “Second and third periods were okay — and I like how we buried our chances.” That was it for the positive feedback. At least under Alvo you didn’t have to worry about getting too full of yourself.
Rocket leaned his elbow on the armrest and put his chin in his hand. He smiled to himself, happy nobody had shaved his head. He’d been terrified when they got back on the bus, and he’d almost had a nervous breakdown when Kyle took a seat close to the middle. Rocket had wanted to sit with the coaches.
Nothing had happened. Cash, Hoffer and Gruny had been messing with him. All they did was chirp at guys and goof off, and now even that was done. Probably sleeping. Nothing like a hockey game and a fourteen-hour drive to calm guys down. Rocket pulled out his phone. Home in less than an hour. Megan and he had texted until she went to bed. Maddy had traded texts with him for a while, too. She was coming to Axton for tomorrow’s game against the Knights.
He was worried about Maddy, so it would be good to see her. Tonight she’d admitted that Connor and Raja had hassled her the day before. She’d been with André, so they’d backed off, but today she hadn’t gone out alone.
Rocket turned his phone off and stuffed it in his pocket. At least she’d have a chance to relax in Axton. Connor and Raja would likely lose interest if Rocket wasn’t around. Their problem seemed to be with him.
At least, he hoped so.
He figured he’d take Maddy to Jimmy’s, and they could hang with Kyle and Nathan.
Rocket looked out the window. The bus had just hit a construction zone and was crawling along. Maybe an hour was optimistic?
He closed his eyes. It felt good, even if he was still awake.
Suddenly, he was lifted out of his seat and pushed to the floor. He gasped for breath.
“Get the mouth,” a voice whispered.
Hoffer?
A piece of tape stifled his cry for help. He tried to pull it off, but someone had pinned his arms. They rolled him onto his stomach and taped his hands behind his back.
“Mmmmmmm!” Rocket screamed.
A second, larger piece of tape covered his mouth entirely. He fought a wave of panic. He couldn’t get enough air through his nose. They spun him to his back.
Akim looked down at Rocket from his seat, his eyes wide open.
“Transport the client to the hair salon.”
Two guys began to giggle.
“Shhhhh,” Hoffer hushed.
It was happening. They’d waited until everyone was asleep. Two hands hooked him under the armpits, and he was dragged to the back and tossed onto the seats in the last row.
No one could see him. He was done for.
Hoffer leaned forward on one knee, an evil grin on his face.
Rocket bent his own knee and kicked Hoffer in the chest. Hoffer flew back, and Rocket sat up. He needed to get back to the front so the coaches could see him.
“Not smart, Little Guy,” Hoffer growled.
He pushed Rocket, slamming him into the window. Rocket lost his balance and slid into the space in front of the seat. For a crazy moment, he thought of trying to crawl under the seats. A hand grabbed his right ankle to end that notion, and another held his left. He heard the sound of duct tape ripping, and soon his ankles were taped together, too.
“You need to calm down,” Hoffer said. He pulled Rocket back up and pushed him firmly onto the seat, flipping his legs up, too. Hoffer then sat on his legs. He reached over and pinched Rocket’s nose. He couldn’t breathe!
Rocket kept perfectly still and tried not to panic. He was helpless.
Hoffer let go. “Are you going to be trouble?” he asked.
Rocket shook his head. Not being able to breath had scared him. It felt like more was at stake here than his hair.
“Behave, Little Guy,” Gruny said over Hoffer’s shoulder. He snapped a pair of scissors open and shut a few times. “Be nice and we might let you keep your eyebrows.”
“No chance. Eyebrows go,” Cash said.
“Obviously,” Gruny said. “I’m messing with him.”
“Mmmmmmm,” Rocket murmured. They were such jerks. He’d look like a total freak.
“Who wants the first snip?” Gruny said.
“I’ll have a go.” Cash took the scissors. “Welcome to the Axmen’s Hair Salon. I’m the Cash-Man, and I’ll be your stylist today. Do you want a shampoo? No? Fine. I understand you want a complete shave. Is that correct? I’ll take that as a yes. Let’s begin, shall we?” He grabbed a piece of Rocket’s hair.
Gruny pulled a can of shaving cream and a razor out of his backpack.
“Okay, guys. Initiation is over.”
Bossy! He was in the seat beside them.
“Bro, we just got started,” Hoffer said.
“You got started plenty. That’s enough,” Bossy said.
“Go back to sleep,” Gruny said. “We’ll take care of this. He’s a rookie.”
“Do I have to get out of my seat?” Bossy said.
The three tormentors looked at each other.
Finally, Hoffer shrugged. “Way to kill it, Bossy. We’re not allowed to have fun this year?”
“Untie him,” Bossy said.
“You do it,” Hoffer snapped.
Hoffer took hold of Rocket’s shirt, pulled him to standing and then threw him onto Bossy’s lap. Rocket’s head banged into Fryer, who woke up with a start.
“What the …? What are you …” Fryer stopped himself. “What’s going on?” he said.
“Hoffer, Gruny and Cash were going to shave Little Guy,” Bossy said.
“Is that so?” Fryer said slowly
Bossy stood Rocket up in the aisle and then stood up himself.
“This is going to hurt,” Bossy said.
Rocket nodded. He didn’t care as long as he could breathe normally again. Bossy pulled the tape off his mouth. His cheeks and lips tingled painfully. He filled his lungs a few times. Air had never tasted so sweet.
“Turn around,” Bossy said.
He took the tape off Rocket’s wrists. It stung.
Rocket crouched down and began to untape his own ankles.
“Next person who messes with my centre, messes with me. Got it?” Bossy said.
“Next person who wakes me up will lose more than their hair. Got it?” Fryer added.
“Got it?” Bossy said again.
“Yeah. Whatever,” Cash said.
Bossy took a step toward him. “You think you’re serious stuff because you’re Gold’s pet? You’ve gotten a free pass till now, but you’re pushing it way too far. Do you understand me?”
“Just joking around a bit. Geez,” Cash said.
Bossy and Fryer turned back to Rocket.
“Thanks,” Rocket said. That sounded a bit lame considering what they’d done. “I guess my hair and my eyebrows thank you, too,” he added.
Bossy burst out laughing. “Like I said, no one messes with my centre.”
“Well … thanks. I owe you guys.”
“Just keep those sweet passes coming,” Bossy said.
“You got it,” Rocket said. “Um, so, I’ll see ya.”
He went back to his seat.
“You okay?” Akim said when he sat down.
“Yeah. No problem,” Rocket said.
Kyle was still sleeping. He could sleep through anything, it seemed.
Akim leaned across the aisle. “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know what to do. I was going to tell the coaches, but … I’m sorry. I should’ve.”
Akim didn’t want to be a rat. Rocket got that.
“That would have just made it bad for you, too. Anyway, no big deal. They only wanted to scare me,” Rocket said.
“I was scared enough for the both of us.” Akim looked around and came over to Rocket’s seat. “I’m going home,” he said quietly. “They’re going to pick on me, I know it. I don’t have any friends and Glassy treats me like dirt. It’s only a matter of time. I mean, they’re picking on you, and you’re an awesome player. They haven’t done anything to me because they haven’t noticed me. I doubt I’ll even make the cut, anyway.” He gripped the armrest. “I’m going home.”
Kyle suddenly yawned and rubbed his eyes. “This drive is taking forever. You guys get any sleep?”
“I’ve been hanging with my bros at the back of the bus,” Rocket said.
Akim laughed.
Bossy and Fryer came up to join them. “Hey, Little … Bryan, you okay for real?”
Rocket rubbed his upper lip. “I think I lost a few layers of skin, but I’ll live.”
“Layers of what?” Kyle said.
“Kyle’s a heavy sleeper,” Rocket joked.
“Did I sleep through something again? Story of my life,” Kyle said.
“Hoffer, Gruny and Cash were being idiots, as usual,” Bossy said. “They wanted to shave … Do I have this right, you’re the Rocket?”
“My last name is Rockwood. Some guys call me that.”
“Suits you. Anyway, they were going to shave Rocket,” Bossy said.
“I owe you guys,” Rocket said again.
Kyle cast an angry look toward the back of the bus. “Bro, I’m so sorry. I’m having a nap while you’re fighting for your life.”
“The tape around my mouth made it hard to call for help,” Rocket said.
“Jerks,” Kyle muttered.
“I figured they were just going to scare you,” Bossy said. “We always do a little initiation to rookies, supposed to be fun. Maybe it isn’t. I should’ve stepped in earlier.”
“I don’t get how Cash thinks he can pull this act off,” Fryer said. “He’s a rookie, too.”
“Gold thinks he’s the next OHL superstar,” Bossy said.
“He sucked today,” Fryer said. “Got schooled on that goal, the one Rocket’s buddy got. Rocket, you got a goal and three assists, and I think you won every faceoff. You should be on the first line.”
“Along with you guys,” Rocket said, embarrassed by the attention.
“I just hope Alvo keeps letting us play,” Bossy said.
“He will, and we’ll do some real damage once we get used to playing with each other,” Rocket said.
“I hope so. I’m done being the team goon,” Bossy said. “Three years — I’m sick of it. Gold tells me fighting is my ticket to the NHL. He treats me like an attack dog: Fight, Boss, fight. That’s a good boy.” He rubbed the knuckles on his right hand. “Kyle, is your buddy Nathan okay?”
“He’s good,” Kyle said.
“He stuck in there. Did well for himself,” Fryer said.
“Gold told me to scrap because Nathan hit Cash. I shouldn’t have done it. He seemed like a good guy,” Bossy said.
“I appreciate that,” Kyle said. “I’ll tell him. You guys should come to Jimmy’s sometime and hang with us.”
“Definitely,” Bossy said.
Fryer grinned and shadow-punched Bossy with a one-two combination. “So, when are you going to tell Gold and Alvo you’re quitting the fight game?”
Bossy lowered his eyes. “Soon. Hockey has changed. Sure, you got to be tough, and sometimes you’re going to drop the gloves to stick up for yourself or your teammates. I’m up for that. But I’m not going to be the guy who skates out for two shifts a game and drops his gloves like a trained monkey.”
“Not even if they pay you three million a year?” Fryer laughed.
Bossy shook his head. “How many enforcers have to quit with concussions? How many guys get really sick from taking too many shots to the head? I don’t even know how many fights I’ve been in, and I’m just twenty. Anyway,” he went on. “I may not have skills like you, Rocket, but I’m big and I can play if they let me. I don’t want to quit hockey, but I’m finished being a fighter.”
“We work hard and figure out more plays off the cycle, you’ll be in the NHL as a power forward. You both will,” Rocket said. He could come up with a half-dozen plays off the top of his head.
“I like the sound of that. This season’s off to a great start. We’re scoring and getting ice time,” Bossy said.
“I’m in,” Fryer said. “I can play with this guy any day.” He gave Rocket a punch in the arm.
“Anyway, you boys can relax on the initiation front,” Bossy said. “That’s done — or they deal with us.”
“Bourquey’s with us, too, I bet, and Rainer and Big Z,” Fryer said. “We were talking about it after the game. Cashman had better smarten up, or he’ll find himself without hair one day. I don’t care how much Gold loves him. It’s about respect for the game.”
The boys all nodded. They joked around for another half hour. When the bus pulled into the parking lot of the Axton arena, Bossy and Fryer went back to their seats.
“Okay, boys,” Gold called from the front. “Wake up. Collect your stuff. It’s late and your billets are waiting to take you home.” He clapped a few times. “We have a practice tomorrow at ten o’clock and don’t think you can sleepwalk your way through it. It’ll be full throttle. So everyone up and at ’em.”
Akim looked at Rocket. “Maybe I will stay around a little longer and see if I make it.”
He punched Kyle and Rocket’s fists and returned to his seat.
“So they actually taped you up and were going to shave your head?” Kyle asked.
“Let’s say I was getting worried about the eyebrows.”
“The wacky life of an OHLer.” Kyle grinned.
Rocket stuffed his sweatshirt into this backpack. He’d been in Axton for four days — it could have been four years. Wacky didn’t go far enough.