Chapter One
You Snooze, You Lose

Johnny Maverick was on a breakaway in his first NHL game. He had been called in to play in the seventh game in the Stanley Cup finals. He had already scored six goals, setting a record impossible for anyone to break. But the score was 6–6. There were only seconds left in the game. If he scored, his team would win the Stanley Cup!

The crowd roared as he rushed down the ice.

He reached the net. He moved the puck to his backhand. Then he swept the puck in the other direction as the goalie went for the fake. The net was wide-open. From his forehand side, he snapped the puck into the upper corner.

Goal!

The red light went on behind the net. The buzzer sounded to end the game.

Johnny raised his arms in triumph as he circled the ice. He grinned his special grin at all the pretty girls in the stands, who now adored him more than ever before.

But something was not right.

The buzzer kept sounding to end the game. And the buzzer was getting louder and louder.

That’s when Johnny realized he was dreaming. The buzzer wasn’t from the game. It was from his alarm clock.

He groaned.

Even though it was Saturday morning, and still dark, he had to get up for hockey. Johnny lived in a small town called Howling, and he played for the Timberwolves. He had to be up early to travel out of town for a playoff hockey game in Baden.

But Johnny hated waking up. Even for something as exciting as a playoff game. He liked snoozing.

Just one quick snooze, he told himself, keeping his eyes closed. Just one press of the snooze button on his alarm clock. Maybe he could start dreaming again, especially the part about the goal and the girls.

With his eyes still closed, he reached over to push the snooze button. His fingers brushed against something that did not feel like the snooze button. Snap!

Something hard clamped down on all his fingers. Something that hurt. Something that felt like an animal was biting his hand and wouldn’t let go.

Johnny yelled and jumped out of bed. He shook his hand as hard as he could. But the animal wouldn’t let go. His fingers stung so much he didn’t stop to turn on the light.

He knocked his bedroom door open and ran, screaming, down the hallway. He shook his hand as hard as he could. He reached the kitchen. His friend Stu Duncan was sitting at the kitchen table, eating pancakes. His friend Tom Morgan was there too, staring at Johnny.

In the light of the kitchen, Johnny could finally see the animal biting his fingers so hard.

It was a mousetrap.