Sleep didn’t come easily to Garry that night.
It’s all Michael’s fault, he thought as he tossed and turned. That fire wouldn’t have started if he hadn’t humiliated me in the mess hall! Scottie shares the blame too. If he hadn’t yelled, I wouldn’t have dropped that match!
But even as these thoughts raced through his mind, he knew they weren’t true. No one had forced him to light those matches. He had done that, even though he knew it wasn’t a good idea.
That’s when he knew what he had to do. He had to confess.
He rolled over and checked his watch. It was after midnight, too late to go to the coach.
I’ll tell him everything first thing in the morning. I’ll probably get booted out of the tournament, maybe even off the team, but that’s no one’s fault but my own.
Then he rolled back over and finally fell into a deep slumber. In fact, he slept so soundly that he didn’t wake until the breakfast bell sounded. Groggy, he stumbled out of his bunk, changed into shorts and a T-shirt, and hurried to the mess hall, intending to find Coach Hasbrouck and tell him what happened.
Unfortunately, the coach was sitting at a table with all the other coaches. From the expressions on their faces, they seemed to be having a very serious discussion. One look at them, and Garry lost his nerve.
After breakfast, he told himself.
But when the meal ended, there wasn’t time to talk to the coach, because the Rockets were playing in the first game of the day. Garry had no choice but to hurry back to his cabin, get into uniform, and report to the field with his brother and Jeff.
I have to put the fire and Scottie out of my mind, he thought.
But that wasn’t going to be easy. The Rockets were playing the Thunder — which meant he was going to be facing Scottie all morning!
Sure enough, as he passed by the Thunders bench, he saw Scottie. The goalkeeper was sitting with his head bowed, his arms resting on his legs. Garry wanted to tell him that he intended to tell his coach what had happened. But then Scottie looked up and gave him a blank stare. Once again, Garry lost his nerve.
“Okay, Rockets, onto the field for warmups!” Coach Hasbrouck called.
After their running and stretching exercises, it was time to play. As usual, Garry, Michael, and Conor made up the attacking lineup. Behind them were middies Evan, Jeff, and Samuel. Carl, Eric, and Brandon were on defense, with Christopher in the goal. Todd, Pedro, and Andrew sat on the bench, ready to bring fresh energy to the field when needed.
Garry bounced on his toes in the wing area as the Thunder players took up their positions for the face-off. Opposite Michael at the center X was a ferocious-looking Thunder attacker.
The referee placed the ball between the two, stepped back, and blew his whistle.
Michael instantly flipped his stick head over the ball and raked the rubber sphere between his legs. The Thunder attacker tried to dig it free but Michael scooped it up and twisted away to begin a run down the field.
Garry exploded out of the wing area to race parallel with Michael. He called for a pass, but Michael seemed determined to make this first goal attempt a one-man show. He dodged, feinted, and twirled down the field, cradling the ball up high.
Then he got in trouble. A defenseman leaped out and poke-checked the shaft of his stick. Some players would have lost the ball then, but not Michael. When the jab popped the ball free, he swooped his stick down, pocket opening skyward, and reclaimed it! Two steps more and he was just outside the crease.
Garry ran forward to offer backup just as Scottie came out of the goal to face Michael.
Swish! Down came Michael’s stick.
Zoom! The ball streaked on a line toward the net. Then —
Thwap! Scottie lunged sideways and nabbed it!
The amazing save left Michael staring dumbfounded for more than a second. By the time he recovered his wits, the ball was halfway down the field. Two minutes later, the Thunder had pushed it past Christopher and into the goal.
Garry knew he should be disappointed that Michael hadn’t scored, but he couldn’t help feeling his teammate had gotten what he deserved. Lacrosse was a team sport, after all. Maybe if Michael had passed the ball to Garry or another Rocket, the score would be Rockets 1, Thunder 0, instead of the other way around.
Besides, Scottie deserved credit for the spectacular save. And it wasn’t the only one he made the first quarter. By the time fifteen minutes had passed, he had only let three balls past him into the net. Garry had thrown one of those balls, Conor another, and Jeff had sent in the third after receiving an unexpected pass from Evan.
Unfortunately for the Rockets, the Thunder had chalked up five goals during that same quarter. During the short break, Coach Hasbrouck took Christopher aside and spoke to him in a low voice. Whatever the coach had said seemed to make a difference, for in the second quarter, the Rockets goalkeeper allowed the Thunder to score only two goals. The Rockets, meanwhile, slashed in four to tie things up, with Garry scoring two and Jeff and Michael one each.
Garry was surprised. He had always contributed his share of goals, but it was usually Michael who netted the most per game. But he now had four and Michael only one! He couldn’t help wonder what was making the difference.
Michael, it turned out, had been wondering the same thing — and he let Garry know what he thought.
“Your buddy in the goal sure seems to be giving you a break,” he growled.
Garry’s jaw dropped. “You think Scottie is letting me score?”
Michael snorted. “You got another answer for why he’s stopping everything I send — and missing all your shots?”
And unfortunately, Garry didn’t.
Unless it’s his way of repaying me for pulling him from the river?