“I can’t!” Nish said, his voice cracking.

Muck was leaning over his best defenceman. He had just asked Nish if he could take another shift. Muck had now seen the pain Nish was in, and he wouldn’t make him. He patted his back while Nish buried his head below the boards.

Derek and Travis and Dmitri started the overtime, with Willie and Lars on defence. They didn’t have Nish anymore. They didn’t have Data. They didn’t have Wilson. They didn’t have Fahd.

The puck had barely dropped when it was over. Derek poked the puck ahead, but the Towers’ best defenceman picked it up, stepped around Derek and pounded the puck off the boards so it floated in behind Willie, who turned too slowly to catch the swift winger breaking in. It was a design play, a plan, and the Towers had pulled it off perfectly.

The winger came flying in on Jennie, who in desperation lunged toward him, swinging her stick to poke-check him as she went down. But he had too much reach and too good an angle, and in a flash he was in behind her, dropping the puck in the net as if it were the easiest task in the world.

Maple Leaf Gardens went crazy! The Towers’ bench emptied and the team piled on their scorer and their goaltender. Coaches, managers, parents leapt over the boards–the scene was as crazy as when a team wins the Stanley Cup.

The Screech Owls were crushed. They came and comforted Jennie, who could only shrug. No one blamed her, of course. It was a team loss. Muck wrapped a big arm around her neck and hugged her, face-mask and all. With her mask still on, no one could tell if she was crying.

But you could tell with Nish. He was limping on the ice, his ankle stiff and useless. Tears were rolling down his face and dropping onto his sweater. He couldn’t help it. He didn’t even bother wiping the tears away.

The Little Stanley Cup was on the ice, and Doug Gilmour–the Leafs’ captain!–was coming on to present it. Travis looked at Doug Gilmour, who caught his eye and gave him a wink and a thumbs-up sign. He had recognized him.

They handed the Little Stanley Cup to Doug Gilmour, and he presented it to the Toronto Towers’ captain, who lifted it over his head to the roar of the crowd. Triumphant, he began skating with it around the rink.

Travis felt a little tap on his shoulder. He turned. It was Nish, still crying, but now smiling through the tears as they both watched the Towers’ captain hoisting the Little Stanley Cup.

“I prefer the original, myself,” said Nish.

Travis couldn’t help himself. He began to laugh. Andy Higgins, standing close by, began laughing as well.

 

THE END