The Screech Owls were up for another game in the Oz Invitational, this time against the Perth Pirates. They went ahead 6–0 in the first period on two goals by Jesse Highboy, a breakaway marker by Simon Milliken, and a goal each by the Travis–Sarah–Dmitri line.
At the break, Muck called Sarah and Travis aside and told them to take off their sweaters and follow Mr. Dillinger. Mr. Dillinger led them to the Pirates’ dressing room and knocked on the door. The Pirates’ manager opened it, welcomed them with a big “G’day, mates!” and tossed a couple of fresh sweaters their direction.
“You can join your mate around the corner – we cleared some space for the three of you.”
Sarah, a half step ahead of Travis, suddenly pumped a fist in the air and shouted. “Yes!”
Someone else was also pulling on a Pirates sweater.
Wiz!
He pulled his head through the neck hole, shook his curls, and grinned at them. “I made a special request for my old linemates,” he laughed.
Three of the Pirates’ weaker players were already off to join the Owls. The coaches were mixing things up a bit again. Wiz had been invited down out of the stands, where he and some of the Sharks had come to watch the Owls play, and with the addition of Travis and Sarah the Pirates would have one line better than anything the Owls could put on the ice.
Now they had a game going.
The Pirates came to life thanks to the new line. Wiz, teamed up once more with players equal to his extraordinary talents, was getting better and better every shift. He made miraculous passes to Sarah and Travis, and always seemed to be in position whenever one of them ended up with the puck in a corner of the Pirates’ end.
Wiz scored twice on hard one-timers after being set up in the slot. Sarah scored a beautiful goal on an end-to-end rush. Travis scored on a pretty tic-tac-toe play in which Sarah left a drop pass for Wiz coming in late, who worked a perfect spinnerama around the Pirates defence before rapping a backhand pass to Travis on the open side.
They were within two goals of the Owls when Wiz picked up the puck in his own end and flew the full length of the ice with only Nish scrambling back in time. Wiz came in over the Owls’ blueline, dropped the puck into his skates, and tried, once again, the spinning move that had worked so perfectly only minutes before.
This time, however, Nish was ready for him.
Nish stepped forward, bringing his gloves up into Wiz’s face, and he flattened the Australian so hard Travis could hear the crack against the ice two lines away.
Wiz spun into the corner, his body limp.
Nish picked up the puck, ignoring the referee’s whistle, and slapped it all the way down the ice.
The whistle went again.
Suddenly everyone was shoving. Travis had been in shoving matches before, but usually in defence of his silly friend. This time it was Travis shoving Nish, and Sarah coming in screaming at him.
“What was that all about?” she shouted.
Her face was red with anger. Nish’s face was redder yet. He looked like a tomato about to explode.
“He’s a hot dog!” Nish shouted back, shaking off Travis’s grip.
“Who are you to call anyone a hot dog!” Sarah yelled, her voice shaking.
Wiz, who was now up on one knee in the corner, looked more puzzled than shocked. Travis figured it was probably the first time anyone had ever taken a run at him. From what he’d seen of Wiz’s talents, though, it wouldn’t be the last.
“Bug off!” Nish snarled, shaking everyone off and skating away to take his rightful place in the penalty box.
Sarah skated towards Wiz, now trying to get on his feet.
He wobbled slightly, his legs suddenly rubber.
“You better get to the bench,” said Sarah.
“I’m okay,” Wiz said, but he slipped and almost fell again.
Sarah took one side and Travis the other, and they skated him back to the bench, where the manager and coach reached out and helped him to a seat.
Wiz was smiling.
Travis had never seen such a reaction. In any other hockey game he’d ever been in where something stupid like this had happened, the anger would last through the rest of the game and sometimes into the next. There’d be bad feelings and talk of revenge.
“I guess I was asking for that,” Wiz said. “Tell your mate I owe him one, okay, Trav?”
Travis nodded. He would certainly do that. Nish deserved whatever was coming to him.
After Nish had served his penalty, Muck sent him to the far end of the bench to sit in a spot all too familiar to him – hockey’s equivalent to the desk in the far corner of the classroom.
Wiz took one more shift but was still a little unsteady from the hit and skated off early. He didn’t return for another shift.
The game never regained its energy. Fahd scored on a point shot that hit a defenceman’s skate and went in. Wilson scored on a long shot that bounced once and skittered between the goalie’s pads. Travis scored a second on a nice breakaway pass from Sarah. Dmitri scored on his customary high backhand. Sarah set up their new winger, probably the quickest of the Pirates, for a breakaway, and he scored when he fanned on the shot.
The Owls won 9–6, but the Pirates acted as if they, in fact, had won the entire tournament. Never before had they scored so many goals – even if five of the six had come from players “on loan” to them – and they seemed delighted merely to be on the same ice surface as such skilled players from Canada and the legendary Wizard of Oz from Sydney. Several of the players even insisted on getting their photos taken with Sarah and Travis before they took off their equipment.
One of the Pirates, the quick little player who’d scored on the fanned shot, said he’d see them again in the Mini-Olympics. “We’re a lot better at those sports than we are at this one, y’know,” he told them.
Travis was beginning to suspect that they all were – that the Mini-Olympics were going to be the great equalizer for the Owls.