Two Wolverines, the captain and the big defenceman, came down, two-on-one, on Nish. Nish waited, then lunged, brilliantly poking the puck free and up to Derek. Derek turned immediately and hit Travis, who was circling just outside the blueline. The puck felt right on his blade. It was good to have his old stick back.
Travis hit Dmitri right at the opposition blueline. Dmitri swept past the one remaining defenceman and shot, the slapper catching the Wolverines’ goaltender on the chest and bouncing back out toward the blueline, where Nish cradled it in his glove and dropped it onto the blade of his stick.
Nish pivoted beautifully, hit Jesse Highboy, coming on in a quick change, with a beautifully feathered pass, and Jesse rifled a shot high in under the crossbar.
Wolverines 1, Screech Owls 1.
The crowd went wild. A goal by the visitors, yes, but a goal by a Highboy. They stood and cheered, and cheered again when the announcement was made. Travis skated back to the bench, where Nish was already sitting, trying to catch his breath.
“Great poke check,” Travis told him.
Nish looked up, grinning. “An old man taught it to me.”
At the next intermission, Muck had nothing to say. He seemed satisfied. Travis had already spoken to him in the corridor, and now Muck stood in the middle of the room and signalled to Travis that it was time for him to speak.
“Your captain has something to say,” Muck said.
Travis stood up and cleared his throat.
“We’ve had a great time here,” he said, “no matter whether we win or lose. You all saw that first team we played. No equipment. No gloves. Players had to share equipment. What do you say we leave behind some stuff for them?”
No one said anything. Perhaps they weren’t listening. But then Nish began to tap his stick on the cement floor, and soon everyone was tapping their sticks. The answer was yes.
The Screech Owls then played what they would later call their best period ever.
They couldn’t get by the big defenceman, and they couldn’t get the puck past the Wolverines’ goaltender, but it was the same for the opposition. They attacked, especially Jimmy Whiskeyjack and the big defenceman and Rachel, but they couldn’t get past Nish. He seemed to be everywhere. Travis looked at his friend and knew that he had found his “zone.” He was playing a game that should have been impossible. And if he had wanted to prove a point, he was proving it. No one was calling him Moose Nostrils any more.
Nish broke up another play and sent Dmitri away with the puck. One of the defencemen had been caught pinching in, and the other fell when Dmitri’s startling speed caught him off guard. The only Wolverine to make it back was the assistant captain, Rachel Highboy. Dmitri tried to take her off into the corner, but she wouldn’t go for the move, so he looped at the blueline and hit Travis coming in.
It was perfect. If Nish had found his “zone,” then Travis had found his, too. Everything felt absolutely right: the skates like part of his feet, the stick like an extension of his arms. He would try his new play!
He came as close to Rachel as he dared, and then, just as she was about to poke out, he dropped the puck back into his skates. It hit the left one perfectly. The puck bounced with his stride, heading for the right skate–but it never arrived!
He dug in, falling as he turned. Rachel Highboy, with the puck, was moving fast up the ice. She hit Jimmy Whiskeyjack at the blueline, and Jimmy fed it back to her along the boards. She put a pass back, and he one-timed the shot, the puck just clearing a falling, desperate Nish and passing under the blocker arm of Chantal.
Wolverines 2, Screech Owls 1.
In the dying minutes, Nish gave everything he had. He rushed the puck. He shot. He set up plays. He broke up plays. After Muck pulled Chantal for an extra attacker in the final minute, he even stopped a couple of sure goals. But he couldn’t do enough.
The Screech Owls had lost.
The horn blew, and the place went wild. It wasn’t just the cheering, which was deafening–standing and cheering was not enough. The stands emptied! The crowd poured onto the ice and lifted Rachel and Jimmy Whiskeyjack and the big defenceman and the goaltender onto their shoulders. They sang and cheered and the loudspeakers rumbled with the Wolverines’ theme song.
We will,
We will,
ROCK YOU!
Travis couldn’t feel bad. The Owls had played well. He had made a mistake, but, as Muck often said, “Hockey is a game of mistakes.” And Rachel Highboy had turned his dumb play to her advantage. The hometown team had won, and Travis knew how much that meant.
They lined up to shake hands. Travis congratulated everyone, and when he came to Rachel, she laughed and smiled.
“You shouldn’t have showed me that move on the bay,” she said.
Travis felt foolish. “I guess not.”
She smiled again. “You’re a wonderful player.”
And then she was gone. Travis hurried through the line, feeling as if he’d just won the Stanley Cup. He had never felt so fantastic in his life!
They lined up at the bluelines. Chief Ottereyes said a few words into a microphone that were lost completely in the echo, but no one was much interested in speeches anyway.
Then the Chief announced the Most Valuable Players from each team. Now everyone paid attention, and when it turned out to be the cousins, Rachel and Jesse Highboy, both sides cheered.
They gave Jesse a new hockey stick, and he immediately skated over to the boards where his family was sitting and handed it to his grandfather, who took it with a smile. The people cheered. But maybe only Travis knew what Jesse meant by giving his prize to his grandfather. He had taught Jesse the secrets of the bush that had saved them. And he had found them in the wilderness. What would have happened if he hadn’t come along? Besides, Jesse’s grandfather needed a stick. He couldn’t go on playing forever with a shovel.
The Chief then announced that there was also a prize for the defensive player of the game. Both sides went quiet so they could hear, but there was never any doubt who would win it.
“Wayne Nishikawa,” Chief Ottereyes announced.
Everyone cheered. Both teams slammed their sticks on the ice in appreciation. Nish skated out, saluting the crowd, and took his prize from the Chief.
It was an Ojibway dream catcher.
When Rachel Highboy saw, she yelled, “From what I’ve seen, you could really use one!”
“Moose Nostrils thanks you!” he called back. She laughed, along with several other Wolverines who heard him over the din.
Back in the dressing room, Muck shook everyone’s hand. He did this only on rare occasions, and this was indeed a rare occasion. No one talked about losing. No one felt as if they had lost.
“This pile in the centre,” Travis announced, tossing down his stick. “This is what we give to the Mighty Geese.”
One by one, the Screech Owls tossed in their sticks. Barry, the assistant coach, grabbed the entire rack of extras and dumped them into the growing pile in the centre of the room.
“They need gloves, too,” said Nish, and tossed his in.
Travis couldn’t believe it. What would Nish’s mother say? He decided his friend had the right idea, though, and pulled his own gloves off and tossed them onto the pile. Several others followed suit.
Mr. Dillinger walked over with a handful of the skates he carried in the equipment box for emergencies and dumped them all down without a word.
Nish then threw his own skates in, the ice still glistening on the blades.
Not bad, Travis thought, for a guy who wanted to leave the second he got here.