This game is a must win for us,” said Joe Hall. He was standing at the front of the dressing room, leaning on his straight-as-a-ruler stick. He seemed worried.

More than worried, thought Travis. He looked ill. His face was pasty, and he was sweating. And it seemed, at times, as if he was leaning on the stick for support.

Nish remained in the corner, arms folded. He was the only Screech Owl not dressed. He sat by his locker, staring defiantly. If this game is so darned important, he seemed to be saying, how come I’m not playing?

“I know what you’re thinking,” said Joe Hall, almost as if Nish had been talking out loud. He walked over to Nish and prodded him gently with his stick. He smiled, but the smile had lost its former brilliance.

“Joe doesn’t look very good,” Sarah whispered beside Travis. She had noticed as well.

“You might make a difference in the game,” Joe Hall said to Nish. “You might make the difference.”

Nish seemed happy to hear this. Travis could tell his best friend was fighting off a big smile.

“I’m not a fool,” Joe Hall continued. “I can tell when a player has talent or not–and you, sir, have big talent. You might well make the difference in the game…” He paused, seeming to have to gather his energy. “But this game can make a difference in your life…and I think that’s more important.”

Nish looked up. He didn’t have a clue what Joe Hall was getting at.

“You’ve got a temper, haven’t you?” he said to Nish.

Nish shrugged.

Joe Hall turned to the team. “He’s got a temper, doesn’t he?”

“The worst,” said Sarah.

Nish sneered at her.

“I had a temper,” Joe Hall said. “It was the worst part of my game. It almost cost me my career. I had to learn to control it, or else. Who was it asked me what my nickname was the other day?”

“I did,” said Fahd, raising his hand like he had to go to the bathroom.

“Well, I didn’t tell you what it was, did If”

“No,” said Fahd, his hand still up.

“They called me ‘Bad’ Joe Hall–and I hated it.”

No one spoke. They could hear the sound of Mr. Dillinger’s skate-sharpening machine hard at work in the corridor. Joe Hall stumbled slightly, caught himself on Nish’s locker. Nish looked up, frightened, but whether he thought Joe Hall was going to fall on him or strike him, Travis couldn’t tell.

“You’re too good a kid to get hit with a tag like that,” said Joe Hall. “Besides, ‘Bad’ Wayne Nishikawa sounds pretty stupid, doesn’t it?” He smiled, and for an instant the old brilliance was back.

Nish was flushing red. “I don’t know,” he mumbled. Travis knew what Nish was thinking: he’d love a nickname like that!

“You play with a label, you become that label,” said Joe Hall. “People came to see ‘Bad’ Joe Hall, so I gave them ‘Bad’ Joe Hall–and by the time I realized how stupid I was being…it was too late.”

Travis knew that Joe Hall was talking about Nish, and about how Nish had to grow up if he ever wanted to be a real player. But there was something more he was trying to say, something about Joe Hall himself. And Travis didn’t know what.

“So you’re going to watch this game,” said Joe Hall. “And I want you to watch a particular player out there all game long–and learn from her. Understand?”

Nish looked up, eyes batting in confusion. “Her?” he asked.

“Sam.”

“Sam?” Nish asked, incredulous.

“Yes, Sam. She’s so good at letting nothing get under her skin, she ends up under their skin. You saw it the other games.”

Joe Hall was right. Sam laughed when she was dumped. She laughed when Kenzie MacNeil sprayed snow in her face. She just laughed, then she kept on doing whatever would drive them crazy.

“I have to watch her?” Nish asked, not believing.

“Every single shift,” said Joe Hall. “Now let’s get out there!”

The Screech Owls rose to cheers and backslapping. Travis, as team captain, waited to go out last, and he alone saw the exchange of glances between Nish and Sam as she left the dressing room.

Sam’s eyes filled with triumph.

Nish’s eyes squeezed tight with revenge.

Sam was certainly well worth watching against the Vancouver Mountain. The Owls were in tough, with the Mountain also having a real chance of reaching the final if only they could beat the Screech Owls. The Rideau Rebels had easily won their third game against the team from New Jersey, and were sitting atop the standings, waiting only to discover who they would meet in the final: the Owls or the Mountain.

The Mountain were looking to win. They were quick, smart, and strong. By the end of the first, with Jenny struggling in the Screech Owls’ net, the Mountain were ahead 3–0. If they could hang on to their lead, they were on their way to the final.

Travis had several chances, but couldn’t seem to get a good shot. As soon as he took possession of the puck in the Mountain end, they closed in on him and took away any space for him to work with. He tried setting up Sarah and Dmitri, but the Mountain were keying on Sarah’s playmaking and Dmitri’s speed and neither of them ever seemed free.

Sam began the turnaround midway through the second. She had already played extremely well, and had yet to be scored on when on the ice, but it was her offensive move that caught the attention of the large crowd. She blocked a shot just inside her own blueline and, still down, used her wide sweep to chip the puck up along the boards by centre. Derek Dillinger beat the Mountain defence to it, sending a cross-ice pass to little Simon Milliken, and Simon crossed the blueline and fired the puck hard around the boards.

Derek made the blueline just in time to keep the puck from sailing out. He kicked it up to his stick, deked towards the boards, then sent a sharp backwards pass to the high slot, where Sam was charging under full steam.

Travis had seen this play before–only it was always Nish charging up centre to join the play late.

Sam faked a slapshot, stepped around the single defence between her and the goal, fired a hard shot the Mountain goalie stopped by stacking his pads, and then clipped her own rebound over him and in under the crossbar.

The tide had turned for the Owls. Inspired by Sam’s goal, they kept coming against the strong Mountain team, and soon it seemed only a matter of time until the Owls scored again.

It was Fahd, of all people, who gave them their next goal. He scored his second goal of the tournament on a hard, low shot that screamed right along the ice, through a crowd in front of the net, and caught the goalie by surprise as it ripped just under his stick.

Ten minutes into the third, Sarah took a beautiful pass from Sam and flew up the ice with Dmitri and one defence back. Travis had seen this play a hundred times. Across to Dmitri, back to Sarah, back to Dmitri, the water bottle flying against the glass.

Screech Owls 3, Vancouver Mountain 3.

At the end of regulation they were tied.

The first game had been left with the score even, but now they needed a tie-breaker to decide which team would advance to the final. The tournament rules called for immediate sudden-death overtime, with four-a-side for the first two minutes, then three-a-side, then two-a-side.

After four minutes with no score, the referee signalled for two-a-side. Travis was halfway over the boards when he felt his sweater being pulled back.

It was Joe Hall. Travis wasn’t going.

“Sarah and Sam!” Joe Hall called out.

Travis slunk back onto the bench. He’d been caught by surprise. He’d assumed it would be him and Sarah out–captain and top player–but now it was Sarah and Sam. Two girls. He could see the Rideau Rebels up in the stands, laughing and pointing. The big centre, MacNeil, was on his feet, shouting something, but Travis couldn’t make out what it was. He guessed it wasn’t complimentary.

He turned and looked at Nish, standing behind the bench in his street clothes. Nish had a smirk on his face and was shaking his head in disbelief.

Things soon changed, however, as Sam chased down a loose puck and used her powerful body to ride off the Mountain player who got there first. She turned as soon as the puck came free and lifted the puck so high it very nearly hit the clock, the rolling puck falling with a slap just across centre.

Sarah had read the play perfectly. She picked up the puck in full flight, completely free of the defence.

Across the ice, the Mountain coach almost came over the boards screaming. “Offside! Offside!” But the linesman had waved it off.

The crowd was on its feet.

Sarah came in gracefully, stickhandling carefully, and moved to her backhand–or so it seemed! She made the motion, but just as it appeared she was shifting to go to the short side, she moved the puck back to her forehand and fired a hard wrist shot.

The Mountain goalie, who had a great glove hand, got a small piece of the shot–but not enough.

The red light came on!

The Mountain coach was screaming again!

The Owls poured over the boards, heading to pile onto Sam and Sarah.

They were going to the final!

Travis threw down his stick and gloves and hurled himself into the writhing mess in the corner. Buried somewhere underneath was the player who had set up the winner and the player who had scored it. He could see neither of them.

But he could see Nish. Still standing on the bench. On his face, a look of shock.