“Chase’s team beat the Panthers!” Lars shouted.
Travis couldn’t believe it. The Washington Wall beat the Portland Panthers? Impossible. But then he remembered – Billings still hadn’t been able to play. Without him, the Panthers were just another team. And now they were out of the tournament.
“The final’s at six o’clock!” Fahd yelled. “We’re playing the Washington Wall for the championship!”
“And they’ve just announced that the President can come!” added Lars.
There’d be more television coverage than the Owls had ever experienced.
All the Owls but one, that is.
One of them – or at least a significant part of one of them – was already a television star around the world.
Entering the MCI Center later in the afternoon was like entering an armed camp. The Owls had been amazed before by the security when Chase Jordan was playing, but that was nothing compared to this.
There were Secret Service men everywhere. There were metal detectors and X-ray machines and guards at every entrance and, once again, dogs to check every equipment bag.
“Good thing they don’t have sniffer dogs for streakers’ bums!” Sam yelled out.
“Shut up!” Nish snapped, his face glowing like the burner on a stove.
They’re going too far with Nish, Travis thought. I’ve got to put a stop to this.
But there was no time. The delay getting into the rink meant that they had to hurry into their hockey equipment, and Mr. Dillinger was in the dressing room sharpening a few of the Owls’ skates. There was no use trying to talk over the noise.
Nish had dressed in silence and was sitting in his usual corner in his usual fashion: head down on the tops of his shin pads, his eyes closed. Normally, Travis would have thought his friend was trying to “envision” the upcoming match, but this time he had the feeling that Nish was trying to escape.
The machine shut off.
I should say something, Travis thought. I should do it now.
But he was too late. Willie and Andy and Wilson were already back at it.
“Can you imagine if they did have a sniffer dog for streakers!” Wilson shrieked, still laughing at Sam’s joke.
“No dog’d take the job!” giggled Willie.
“It’d be worse than getting skunked!” laughed Andy.
Nish’s head was up. He looked furious.
He stood up, and with a swift kick of one skate, sent all the sticks flying off the wall in Andy’s direction.
“Hey!” Mr. Dillinger shouted.
But Nish was already at the door and out, slamming it hard behind him.
Should I go after him? Travis wondered. No. Give him a minute or two by himself. Deal with the team first.
“Lay off him, okay?” Travis said.
“It’s just a little fun,” Andy said weakly.
“I know,” Travis said. “But fun’s over. Can’t you see he’s had enough?”
No one said anything. Travis was afraid they thought he was being too pushy, that he was overreacting.
“He’s right,” Sarah said. “Let’s just let it go.”
Travis felt the air come out of his lungs. He hadn’t realized how tightly he’d been holding his breath. Thank heavens for Sarah.
“He’s still a butt brain,” Sam said.
I can’t argue with that, Travis thought. But he wisely said nothing.