Two days earlier the Screech Owls had been in a plane over the Rocky Mountains. The snow-covered peaks of the higher summits, poking up through a soft mattress of cloud, were the only reminder of the winter they had left behind.
In Vancouver, their destination, it was more like early summer. On the long ride in from the airport, they were thrilled to see pink cherry trees, red and yellow tulips, gardens like living rainbows with everything in full bloom.
Rarely had the Screech Owls looked forward to a trip so much. It was not just that this was beautiful British Columbia, with everything from the mountains to the ocean; they’d also be playing in a totally new kind of hockey tournament. Vancouver was hosting the first-ever “3-on-3” International Peewee Competition. Several of the matches were to be played in nearby Bellingham, Washington, just across the Canada–U.S. border, which would give the tournament a genuine international flavour. Teams from all over North America had been invited–from Quebec City to Anaheim, from Winnipeg to New York City–but they were not going to compete as teams. Instead, each team would be split into groups of three skaters–usually two forwards and a defence–which would compete in different divisions for separate championship trophies.
It was an idea that Wayne Gretzky and other hockey leaders came up with when they met to talk about what was right and what was wrong in minor hockey. A great many of the top National Hockey League stars these days came from Europe, even though far more people played hockey in Canada and the United States. So what was their secret?
Wayne Gretzky and the others came up with a number of suggestions. First–and much to the disgust of Nish–Canadian and American minor hockey teams needed to practise more and play fewer games and tournaments. “Gimme a break!” Nish had howled. “That’s like choosing school over summer vacation!”
But another idea sounded more attractive. What about bringing shinny back into the organized game? Gretzky said he’d learned his skills in his backyard, not through organized practices where he couldn’t work on the tricks that would make him the greatest player of all time.
Perhaps “3-on-3” hockey should become part of the organized game. In Europe, where they play on a larger ice surface, they had been playing 3-on-3 for decades, using the width of the ice rather than the length. They could, by dividing the rink at the bluelines, run three games of 3-on-3 at the same time.
In Canada, a group of former NHLers was now building smaller 3-on-3 rinks around the country, and the game was catching on with everyone from little kids to old men. The first rinks had been built around Vancouver, and so this was where the idea for the first international 3-on-3 shinny tournament had taken root.
To the Screech Owls’ great surprise, Muck Munro had been enthusiastic about the tournament. He believed in tradition, and didn’t much care for newfangled ideas. But for Muck, shinny was not a new idea. And when the Owls remembered the joy in Muck’s face when Tamarack froze over and he’d come out to play on the frozen fields, they understood why he was all for this “new” idea of bringing fun and creativity back into the game.
Each group would, of course, also have a goaltender, but Jeremy Weathers and Jenny Staples would split those duties. The hard part was figuring out who would play with whom, and some of Muck’s combinations were surprising.
One Monday evening after practice, he pinned a notice to the bulletin board in the Owls’ dressing room:
Screech Owls 3-on-3 Teams
Elite Division
Team 1: Sarah Cuthbertson–Travis Lindsay–Wayne Nishikawa
Team 2: Dmitri Yakushev–Andy Higgins–Lars Johansson
Canucks Division
Team 3: Fahd Noorizadeh–Gordie Griffth–Samantha Bennett
Rockies Division
Team 4: Liz Moscovitz–Derek Dillinger–Willie Granger
Pacific Division
Team 5: Simon Milliken–Jesse Highboy–Wilson Kelly
“Not Sarah!” Nish shouted as he leaned over Travis’s shoulder, reading Muck’s list. “Why is she on my team? Why me? Why me?”
Travis just shook his head. He knew Muck’s decision was a good one. Nish and Sarah actually played wonderfully together, even if sometimes it seemed they were more interested in taking shots at each other than at the opposing goaltender. Travis was delighted to be included on the first team with them.
Muck had done a splendid job. He’d entered two 3-on-3 groups in the toughest division, and had spread the Owls’ talent evenly through the other divisions. Travis could sense how disappointed Sam was not to be included on one of the top two lines, but with only one defender in each group, what else could Muck do? Nish was, well, Nish, and he always came through. And Lars had grown up playing 3-on-3 in Sweden and was probably the best shinny player of them all.
From Christmas on, the excitement built. The Owls still played in their league, but sometimes they could think of little but the upcoming tournament. They practised hard, spending the last twenty minutes of every session on 3-on-3 shinny, just getting used to each other and trying tricks they wouldn’t dare attempt in a real league game.
The tournament was scheduled for the Easter long weekend, and an extra day was being added at each end, giving them nearly a week in Vancouver for the tournament and plenty of time for sightseeing.
“Wreck Beach!” Nish announced. “That’s the only thing I want to see.”
“What’s Wreck Beach?” Fahd asked.
Nish looked at Fahd as if he had just crawled out of an old hockey bag and had never before seen the real world.
“Are you serious?” Nish asked. “It’s the nude beach. I’m going as soon as we get there.”
“You’ll freeze,” said Sarah.
“Come and see for yourself,” Nish challenged.
“We will,” said Sarah.
“And we’ll be bringing cameras,” laughed Sam. “With telephoto lenses!”
“Very funny,” Nish sneered. “Very, very funny.”
So far, however, they hadn’t come within a mile of Wreck Beach, wherever that was (How does Nish find out about these things? wondered Travis), but they had all walked across the famous Capilano rope bridge, which hangs, and swings, high above a gorge. All, that is, but Nish, who stayed in the van claiming he had food poisoning when, in fact, he was just terrified of heights. They saw the steam-powered clock in Gastown, the harbour, they walked around Stanley Park, and had a wonderful time at the Vancouver Aquarium.
Sarah and Sam were particularly keen on the Aquarium. They had wanted to see the killer whales–a baby had just been born–and all the Owls were fascinated by the special tour the staff put on for them.
They were allowed to feed the sea lions. Sarah and Sam were kissed by a killer whale. They saw the penguins, and when Fahd said how much one chubby, preening penguin in the corner looked like Nish even the staff laughed at the red-faced exhibitionist. They heard a lecture on dolphins and porpoises and grey whales, and one of the attendants, Brad, even took them into the research area and showed them how the dolphins could talk to each other and how, in a matter of a few minutes, he could teach them a new trick.
It had been, until now, the most riveting moment of the trip.
“W-we…know…him!”
The urgency in Nish’s voice was real. He wasn’t kidding. He was dead serious, and terrified.
Travis turned back from his friend and stared into the water just in time to see the head roll around again, eyes open and blank and very, very dead, the mouth twisted in pain that could no longer be felt.
“IT’S BRAD!”
The scream came from Sam, pushing hard against Travis’s shoulder.
“OH MY GOD!”
That was Sarah. She was already bursting into sobs.
Travis forced himself to look again when the body rolled over once more. It was Brad, the marine biologist from the Vancouver Aquarium.
Brad, who had taken them to see the dolphins.
Brad, who had so charmed Sarah and Sam.
Brad, with a gaping black wound in his chest that matched the wound on the dolphin now strapped to the side of the Zodiac.