Travis hurried back to the group around the other Stanley Cup. They were taking so many pictures and talking so loudly that he couldn’t get a word in edgewise. But even if he could, what would he say? That there were two men over there plotting to steal the real Stanley Cup? What if someone pointed? What if the men called him a liar? What if he ended up in trouble just trying to alert someone? He would tell Muck; Muck would know what to do.

The custodians of the trophy room asked the Screech Owls if they would mind moving on to let some of the other visitors closer. Travis was happy to leave–it would give him a chance to get to Muck before the two thieves left the building. Muck would tell the security people and they’d know how to stop them.

“Let’s go back down to the souvenir shop,” Travis suggested.

“Yeah, let’s,” Derek agreed.

They had all seen the store as they’d come in, and all had vowed to get back in time to buy something to remember their visit by.

“I need a T-shirt,” Nish said. He always had to have a souvenir T-shirt from every tournament. Always.

“Maybe they sell Hall of Fame underwear,” Willie suggested, to great laughter from the rest.

“Very funny,” said Nish. “Now push.”

Travis saw Muck as the coach came out of the Hall of Fame’s store. He and Nish had just dropped off the wheelchair, thanked the workers for it, and Travis was helping Nish, who was back on his crutches, out through the turnstiles. He could tell from a distance that Muck was not at all pleased.

Muck was standing with two of the Hall of Fame’s security guards and a man in a suit who looked like he ran the place. They were all deep in conversation. One of the security people had her arms full of merchandise.

They drew closer, and Nish saw Andy over by the cash register. He looked shaken. He was with Lars and Jesse and Liz, and they all looked upset.

“What’s up?” Nish said as he hobbled up to them.

“Something to do with Data and Wilson and Fahd,” said Liz. “They’ve got them back in that office there.”

Travis could just make out Data’s head through the window in the office door. He looked as if he was crying.

“They got caught lifting,” said Andy.

Travis turned. “What?”

“They had some T-shirts stuffed into their windbreakers.”

Travis couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Caught stealing? Data? Wilson? Fahd? They wouldn’t steal–would they?

“You gotta be kidding,” said Nish.

“I’m not,” said Andy. “I was right here when they got picked up.”

Yeah, Travis wanted to say, right here leading them on.

“Why would they do it?” Nish asked.

Andy had no answer. Because he knew? Travis wondered. Or because there was no answer?

“There must be some mistake,” Travis said. “They wouldn’t steal.”

Andy gave Travis his sarcastic lifted-eyebrow look. “Yeah, right,” he said.

They had been stealing. The cameras had caught it all, and they were found with the goods stuffed into their windbreakers. That was what the security woman had been holding.

Muck and Mr. Dillinger and Travis’s dad had then met alone with the man in the suit. After a long time, the three men came over to where Data, Fahd, and Wilson had gone to wait with the assistant coaches. Muck and Mr. Lindsay did the talking. Fahd was wiping away more tears. Wilson was sniffing.

The three boys got up and left with Mr. Lindsay and Barry. Muck came over, limping slightly from his old hockey injury. He signalled the rest of the team to follow him to a quiet corner.

“Sit down,” Muck said. They sat. Some on benches. Some on the floor.

Muck took his time. Whether it was for effect or because he didn’t know what to say, Travis didn’t know, but Muck had a look that he had seen only a few times in the past. And Travis didn’t like it.

“You’re not stupid people,” Muck said. “Though some of you, it seems, can still act stupid. I don’t need to tell you what happened.”

He paused again.

“The manager had some good advice for our three teammates,” he continued. “He recommended they go home and tell their parents what they’ve done and what they think about what they’ve done. He said if they promised him that they would do this, he wouldn’t be pressing charges. The three young men are on their way home as we speak. Mr. Lindsay is driving them.

“They are no longer members of the Screech Owls.”

Nish couldn’t help himself: “Forever?”

“For as long as it takes,” Muck answered.

No one had a clue what he meant. And no one had the nerve to ask.

“Let’s go back to the hotel now,” Muck said, and he turned to go.

Travis didn’t know what to do. How could he now chase after Muck with a story that two men were planning to steal the Stanley Cup? Why would Muck believe him or anyone else on the Screech Owls after what had happened? Nothing like this ever happened when Sarah had been captain.

And now he couldn’t even tell his father, who had left without a word to take the three disgraced players home. Given the distance, he probably wouldn’t be back.

“Give me a hand, eh?” Nish said, trying to get up. Travis helped his friend to his feet and bent down for his crutches. As he stood up and handed them to Nish, he saw the two men come up the stairs from the Hall of Fame and out the door.

They were leaving. Heading off, Travis was certain, to put the finishing touches to their plan.