Honk! Honk!
Car tires squealed. A driver opened his window.
“You trying to kill yourself?” he yelled at Rocket.
Rocket skipped onto the sidewalk. He probably shouldn’t have tried to gun it across the street like that. The car hadn’t missed by much.
Kimberly had needed to open her store this morning, so she couldn’t drive him. He didn’t mind. The walk to the rink gave him a chance to clear his head.
The morning had been a bit crazy. He’d woken in a panic because he’d fallen asleep before telling Maddy not to come today. But he’d spoken to Kimberly about it, and she’d told him not to worry. She still wanted Maddy to stay.
He was happy with that. He missed talking to Maddy in person — not that he’d ever tell her, naturally!
Rocket checked the time on his phone. He was cutting it close, so he began to jog down the street. It felt good to stretch his legs.
As he got to the arena, a door popped open.
“Are you in a hurry to get somewhere?” Bossy was grinning.
Rocket wasn’t going to get into the whole story. “My billet abandoned me and I had to walk.”
“Relax, bro. We’re the third line, now. We got to add some swagger to our game. Can’t show up all panicked.”
“Third line? Hope so,” Rocket said.
“Come on. We’re in room six, the small one. Not sure why. Something about cleaning. Like they couldn’t have done that yesterday.”
“Did you just get here, too?”
“Nah, I got here early. I wanted to have a chat with some of the vets — about last night. But then Gold came in, started going on about playing with passion, fighting for every puck, blah, blah, blah. I couldn’t take it, so I said I needed to make a call. I saw him leave the room a minute ago.”
They walked into the dressing room. Rocket looked around for his bag. He saw Kyle in the far corner and nodded hi.
Then he saw Cash watching him.
Great. Why did Chenny have to put his bag beside Cash’s?
Rocket kept his gaze steady as he took his seat.
Cash smirked and nudged Hoffer. “He would’ve looked better with a haircut.”
Hoffer and Gruny grinned.
Bossy and Fryer were watching intently, and so was Kyle. Rocket pushed his bag forward.
“Did your line get a point against the Knights? I can’t remember,” Rocket said.
“Scores a goal and he’s a superstar,” Cash said. “I had seventy-eight last year, so calm down, Little Guy.”
“This isn’t midget,” Rainer said from across the room.
Cash seemed taken aback. “Yeah, I’ve sort of figured that out. I’m just saying …”
“Maybe a little less saying and a little more showing,” Bourque said.
“Don’t worry about me,” Cash said.
“Mellow it out, bro,” Hoffer said to Bourque. “Why you getting on him?”
“Why are you getting on my centre?” Bossy demanded.
“Are you making problems — over some rookie?” Gruny said.
Rocket had a feeling he should keep quiet. The vets had to work this out.
Rainer unzipped his bag slowly. “Do you want to have a problem with me?” he asked in a measured tone.
“Or me?” Bourque said.
“Or me?” Big Z said.
“No,” Hoffer said carefully.
“You had one last night,” Bossy said.
“We’re still talking about that?” Gruny asked.
“We were just having fun,” Cash said. “You think we were actually going to do it? You can be suspended for that.”
“You don’t do stuff like that without talking to the vets first,” Bossy said. His eyes narrowed. “And don’t touch Rocket.”
“Give me a break,” Cash said. “He’s Little Guy. We can shorten it to LG if he wants.”
“And you’re Big Mouth — we can make it Shut Up, Big Mouth, if you want,” Rocket told him.
Cash jumped to his feet and Rocket matched him. Cash lashed out, smacking Rocket’s head with the heel of his hand. Rocket struck back with both hands to Cash’s chest. Cash swung with his right. Rocket ducked, the blow grazing the top of his head. He sprang forward and crashed his shoulder into Cash’s exposed ribs. Cash tripped over his bag and fell to the floor.
“Ah! You broke my shoulder,” he screamed. He lay writhing on the floor. Rocket stepped back. All the guys crowded around.
“Get up,” Rocket said. “You’re such a faker — like when you skated into Nathan and acted like you’d been shot.”
“My shoulder …”Cash rolled onto his knees holding his right elbow with his hand.
“I think you really messed him up,” Gruny said.
“Deserved it,” Fryer said.
He probably did, but Rocket’s heart did a few flip-flops. This could be bad.
Bourque bent down. “You really hurt or is this more of your acting?”
“He broke my shoulder. Is that good enough for you?” Cash said. His face was twisted in pain.
Bourque and Glassy helped him sit on the bench. “Someone should get Chenny,” Bourque said.
“Hang back, bro,” Kyle whispered in Rocket’s ear.
Rocket followed him to the far corner.
“Don’t worry about it,” Kyle said. “We all saw it. You were just defending yourself.”
Rocket couldn’t find the words. He could be in serious trouble. A fifteenth-rounder didn’t break a first-rounder’s shoulder.
Chenny came running into the room with Washington.
She sat next to Cash and took his arm in her hands. “Can you move your arm at all?” she said.
“A little.”
“How about your fingers?”
Cash wiggled them. Rocket watched intently. He hoped those were good signs.
“Where’s the pain?”
“It’s at the back. I fell on it. I think I hit the corner of the bench,” Cash said.
“What happened?” Washington said.
“Rockwood jumped me, and I fell over my bag. Can’t believe he broke it.”
“I’m not sure it’s broken,” Chen said. She’d been pressing on his arm and shoulder the entire time. “I think it might be a bruise. Let me try and move it.” She took his arm and gently moved his elbow away from his body. “I don’t think we have any broken bones,” she said.
“Let’s have Dr. Hull look at him,” Washington said.
Chen helped Cash up and walked him out the door.
“Rockwood — outside with you, too,” Washington said.
“It wasn’t like that,” Rocket said.
“Outside,” Washington said coldly.
“He didn’t start it,” Kyle said.
“I’m not talking to you right now,” Washington said. He looked freaked out.
Rocket swallowed hard and headed out.
“You can wait for me in the stands,” Washington said as he went by. “I need to talk to the guys.”
Rocket watched the door close. His mind whirled as he made his way to the stands. He tried not to get too worried. The boys would tell Washington the truth about what went down — other than Hoffer and Gruny. But obviously this wasn’t good. Gold and Alvo wouldn’t be impressed with two teammates fighting. On the other hand, Cash was a huge baby. It was probably nothing.
Rocket leaned forward, elbows on his knees, chin in his hands. The ice glistened, the thin layer of water from the Zamboni still not dry. It was a beautiful sight: a fresh sheet, untouched, begging to be skated on. The desire to get dressed and skate almost overwhelmed him. He sat back. The arena was quiet, apart from a soft, high-pitched hum from the lights. Too quiet, really. He liked it better noisy, with people and pucks banging off boards and blades scratching the ice.
Time dragged on and on. How long did it take to find out that Cash had hit him and Rocket had bodychecked him back? He thought about it. Did he really have to hit Cash back? He could’ve just moved away. And he should have kept his mouth shut in the first place. He’d probably only stood up to Cash because he felt he had support on the team — and maybe to prove he could take care of himself, too.
Rocket knew he’d have to fix this. Best way would be to apologize in front of the entire team, then shake hands with Cash, Hoffer and Gruny. Get it over with, accept whatever punishment came his way. Then get back to business — which was to make the team and win some games.
Rocket clasped his hands behind his head. The clock read ten. Practice was supposed to start.
“Hurry up, already,” he sighed.
He heard footsteps and immediately sprang to his feet. Washington looked up at him.
“I know I shouldn’t have reacted like that,” Rocket blurted. “I lost it when he threw a punch at me — and maybe there’s some history between us.”
“You need to talk to Coach Alvo and Mr. Gold,” Washington said. “They’re waiting in the small meeting room.”
“I lost my temper, but he threw the first punch. I shouldn’t have pushed a teammate, though,” Rocket said as they walked down the hall, passing Chenny. “Can you explain that to them, that I didn’t mean to do it? That I’m sorry?”
“There’s not much I can do,” Washington said.
“But if you would tell them that …”
“I’m just the assistant coach,” Washington said.
Rocket was stunned. Washington didn’t seem at all interested in his side of things. Why wouldn’t he help? He’d been the one to get Rocket drafted, and he’d voted to keep him after training camp.
Rocket turned back to Chen.
“Could you talk to them?” he asked her. His legs were shaky.
“I’m the trainer,” she said in a sad voice. “I don’t get involved in stuff like this. Dr. Hull took a quick look, though. Luckily he was here doing some paperwork. Anyway, Aaron has full range of motion. Like I said, it’s probably just a bruise.”
Rocket was so relieved, he could have cried. If Cash’s shoulder had actually been broken, Gold and Alvo would have lost it. Cash was fine. Rocket would tell them right off the bat that he was sorry and he was ready to apologize. They’d still be mad, but hopefully they’d be satisfied. It’s not like Rocket and Cash were the first two teammates in history to have a fight. It happened all the time. Guys get competitive and something sets them off. Blowing off steam is what it was.
Washington opened the door to the room. Rocket went in. Alvo and Gold were sitting at the far end of a table.
“What did you do?” Gold thundered.
“I didn’t … This is what happened …”
Gold slammed the table with his hand. Rocket nearly jumped out of his skin.
“This must be a joke,” Gold said. “This midget attacks my best player and breaks his shoulder? We traded two guys, plus three draft picks to land Cashman and some nobody attacks him in the dressing room? Have I lost my mind? How did this happen?”
Alvo’s smile was grim. “Maybe you can tell us what happened?” he said to Rocket.
“He threw the first punch. I didn’t want to hurt him.” Rocket’s voice trembled. “I’m ready to apologize. He’s a teammate, and I shouldn’t have checked him.”
“Why is this midget still talking?” Gold said to Alvo.
“The guys … Ask Kyle, Bossy, Bourque, Rainer, Big Z,” Rocket said. “They’ll tell you.”
Gold reached for his phone. “This isn’t going to work out. You’re done.”
Alvo looked up at Rocket, his eyes dull and the lines on his face deeper than usual.
Washington put his hand on Rocket’s shoulder. Rocket shook it off.
“You can ask any of them,” Rocket said. “I didn’t start it. I didn’t.”
Gold swiped the screen. He wasn’t listening.
“How about the fact that last night Cash, Hoffer and Gruny tried to shave my head? They tied me up with tape. I could barely breathe.”
He could barely breathe now.
“We should go,” Washington said. “Let’s get your stuff.”
“Honestly,” Rocket said. “I was defending myself.”
“I’m sorry,” Alvo said.
Washington took Rocket by the arm. “We’ll get your stuff. Come on.”
Rocket couldn’t see straight. Washington pulled him out the door. Everything was fuzzy.
“Do you want me to get your bag?” Washington asked.
Rocket shook his head. He had to do it.
No crying, Rockwood. Suck it up. End this like a hockey player.
He pushed the dressing room door open and went in. The guys were almost all dressed. A few were still taping their shin pads. Bossy was retaping his stick. Hoffer and Gruny were talking quietly together. Cash wasn’t there.
“Hey, Rocket. What’s up?” Bossy said.
Rocket got his bag and pulled out the handle. “Looks like this is it for me,” he said.
Do not cry, he reminded himself.
Bossy’s face fell. “What?”
“That’s totally unfair!” Kyle said.
Rocket gave a weak laugh and shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t think they were very interested in my side of the story. That’s just the way it is.”
Bossy came over. “This is plain wrong.” He held out his hand.
Rocket looked at it. “Hope you don’t mind, but I messed up my hand …” He held out his left fist instead, and Bossy gave it a bump.
Fryer came over and punched his hand, and then every other player on the team did, too, except for Hoffer and Gruny. Kyle was last. He looked really upset.
“Good luck with the season, boys,” Rocket said. “In twenty years, I’ll be bragging that I got to play with a bunch of NHLers. I’ll be back to watch you guys play.”
“Play Junior A this year and kill it. You’ll be back next year, for sure,” Bourque said.
“Nothing but a roadblock,” Kyle said. “Get around it and keep going. You’re the real deal — unlike some guys.”
Hoffer and Gruny got up and left the room. The other boys said their goodbyes and filed out too.
Kyle held back for a minute. “Come by Jimmy’s for lunch. We can talk about it. This is so brutal, it’s not funny.”
“My sister, or, I mean … My sister is coming. I have to meet her at twelve at the station. We can come by after.”
“Awesome. See you then. You’ve got to check out the banquet burger. The bacon is wicked.”
“Sounds good. Definitely.”
Kyle left.
Rocket took a deep breath. Hockey dressing rooms didn’t have the best smell, but it was sweet to him. He got his sticks and left.
Kyle, Bossy, Fryer, the others, they were good guys, but he knew they were hockey players first. Rocket wasn’t on the team now. He’d be forgotten soon enough.
Washington was waiting for him. “Can I call your billet for a ride or should I call a taxi?”
They headed to the lobby.
“I can walk,” Rocket said.
“Don’t be silly. That’s not right. I’ll call a cab.”
“Don’t bother. It’s ten minutes.” He didn’t want any favours from the Axmen.
Washington lowered his eyes. “I’m really sorry about this, Bryan. It’s just that Gold thinks Aaron Cashman is going to be a dominant centre. He’s a high draft pick, and guys like him sell tickets. He wasn’t about to listen to me about what happened. If it makes you feel any better, the guys supported you. They said Cashman started it. But I can’t go against Gold on this. He’d fire me on the spot.”
“So the truth doesn’t matter?” Rocket said.
“The truth isn’t the point. The point is Gold’s in charge, and what he says goes. I can’t lose this job. I’ve spent years coaching minor league teams and travelling everywhere for tournaments. I have a little girl now. I have to make it as a coach. Like I said, Gold would fire me if I challenged him. Even Coach Alvo couldn’t get him to change his mind.”
“Coach Alvo was on my side?”
Washington looked surprised. “Coach Alvo has always been your biggest supporter. He’s the reason we drafted you. He put you on the line with Bossy and Fryer, and then with Nathan and Kyle. He’s the one who insisted we keep you after training camp. He pleaded your case today, too, but like I said, Gold doesn’t listen to anyone about anything.” He shook his head and pushed open the door to the lobby. “He acts like he won ten Stanley Cups — single-handedly. I mean, sure he played in the NHL, but two years? Some superstar. Between you and me, I think Alvo’s going to quit. I really do.”
Rocket gripped his sticks together. Washington held his hand out.
“I’m sorry about this, Bryan. I am,” Washington said.
“Good luck with your coaching career,” Rocket said. “I’m sure you’ll be great.”
He walked off. Apology accepted, but he wasn’t going to shake hands.