This is embarrassing!”

Nish was almost completely dressed–pants, shin pads, socks, even skates complete with tape around the tops–everything but his shoulder and elbow pads and sweater. He was sitting, but leaning forward over his knees, his face red from the strain. Or perhaps it was anguish, given the way he sounded.

“What’s your problem?” Sarah demanded as she pulled her sweater over her head.

“We’re the Elite Division,” Nish moaned. “We’re not supposed to be playing against Fahhhhdddd.”

The way Nish said the name, it sounded as if Fahd had never held a hockey stick, never worn skates, never touched a puck. It sounded as if he had no feet, no hands, no brain.

“Fahd’s excellent at 3-on-3,” said Jeremy, who had played more games than any of the others, since he and Jenny were in goal for five “teams.”

“It’s em-bar-rass-ing,” Nish howled, as if the mere thought were painful.

Sarah shook her head. “You’re the last person on earth to decide what’s ‘em-bar-rass-ing,’ Mr. Wreck Beach.”

Nish straightened up, looking hurt. “Hey, c’mon, I’m the one who solved the murder, aren’t I?”

Travis was about to argue the point when the door opened and Muck came in, smiling. He’d been in a great mood since Liz and Derek and Willie won the Rockies Division championship in a close 5–4 game against the team from Boston. But it wasn’t his usual smile. It was almost as if Muck was enjoying some little private joke.

“Ready to go?” Muck asked, and they shouted that they were.

Travis pulled his number 7 sweater over his head, quickly kissing the collar as it passed his lips. Now, if he could only hit the crossbar during warm-up, he might have a good game.

“It wouldn’t be fair of me to give you any scouting report on the other team,” Muck chuckled. “All I can say is they’re Screech Owls. That’s usually enough to make any team play their best, and that’s the least I expect of you. Now go out there and have fun.”

“Who’s coaching us?” Nish asked.

Muck winked at Sarah and Travis. “Not me, thankfully. I got the team that listens to its coach.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Nish said, trying to look innocent.

“It means, Nishikawa, that your coach is Data. Why don’t you surprise him by doing as you’re told, for once.”

And with that, Muck turned and left. Only Travis was in a position to see that Muck was laughing to himself, enjoying the moment.

 

Data didn’t have much to tell them. With Mr. Dillinger’s help, Data had settled his chair behind the bench, where he was able to talk to the Owls as they leaned over the boards, but in fact there was little for a coach to do in 3-on-3 hockey. No lines to change. No big breaks or time-outs or ways of mapping out plays. Nothing but a few early instructions and then a lot of loud encouragement.

“Keep your eye on Fahd,” Data said. “He’s pretty good at this.”

“‘Keep your eye on Fahhhhddd,’” Nish mimicked. “C’mon, Data, get with it. This is a hockey game, not a spelling bee.”

Nish turned and skated away, laughing at his own stupid joke. Fahd was, in fact, a pretty good speller at school, but he was also a pretty dependable little hockey player and, in 3-on-3, a crafty playmaker.

Sarah and Travis touched gloves for luck and skated back towards the faceoff circle. It felt odd to be out on the ice with Screech Owls sweaters skating around on the other side. Fahd and Sam and Gordie and Jenny were opponents, not teammates, and even though Travis knew each of them so well, even though he counted them among his best friends, they were a bit like strangers now, their personalities and talents unknown.

But still, he felt good. He’d kissed his sweater. He’d touched gloves with Sarah. He’d hit Jeremy’s pads in exactly the right order–right pad, left pad, left pad, right pad, blocker. He’d even hit the crossbar. He was ready to play.

He couldn’t, however, say the same for Nish, who seemed to be taking this game far too lightly. Perhaps all the publicity had gone to his head.

The puck dropped and there was no more time to think. From now on, for Travis, it would all be action and reaction.

Sarah won the drop easily from Gordie. She fired the puck back to Nish, who turned and began skating casually back towards Jeremy. Nish rounded the net, came out the other side, and lofted a high pass that slapped and bounced past centre. Travis raced for it, but Fahd beat him to the puck.

Travis turned sharply, almost jumping back in the opposite direction. Normally he would have had a check, but Fahd, moving so slowly, so surely with the puck, wasn’t doing what Travis expected. Instead of driving towards Travis’s net, Fahd turned and skated cross-ice to the far boards, and Travis flew by.

Fahd held the puck and deked past Sarah, then flipped a quick backhand to Gordie, who fired a hard slapper as soon as the puck came within range. The puck slammed hard into Jeremy’s pads and bounced straight out into the slot. Sam, driving from the point, hammered the puck home.

Owls 1, Owls 0.

No–Fahd 1, Nish 0.

Ten minutes into the game, Fahd’s side was up 4–2 and dominating play. Sarah was skating well, and Travis felt he was playing fine, but Nish seemed oddly out of it, as if he wasn’t taking anything seriously.

“Let’s get it going!” Travis said as he brushed past Nish just before a faceoff.

“Don’t worry,” Nish said. “I’ve got it completely under control.”

Sarah scored a beauty on an end-to-end rush in which she pulled Jenny out and roofed a backhander Dmitri-style. Fahd scored on another slowed-down play. Nish scored on a deflection. Fahd scored on yet another slow-down. Nobody seemed able to read him.

The rink was loud. It was packed with Owls and parents, and their cheering and yelling bounced off the ceiling and walls to combine into one great roar. Travis was sure he could pick out Lars’s shouts at one point, and he thought he heard his own name being called, as well.

Lars would be shouting instructions. Pass to open space. Use your body to open up holes for the others. Don’t be afraid to slow things down. Travis was trying them all, but it wasn’t working.

Sam picked up the puck behind her own net and used the angle to beat Sarah’s forecheck. She roared up over centre. Travis left her to Nish and concentrated on Gordie, trying to make sure Gordie wouldn’t have space to get a good shot away.

Sam came straight at Nish. He was backing up, his hips working fast, and he was staring right at her. Perfect: just the way Muck taught. One-on-one, ignore the puck, play the man–or in this case, the woman.

Sam shifted the puck out on her stick, teasing.

Nish went for it, trying to poke it away, but Sam tucked the puck back in, and slipped it between his skates and out the other side.

Using her momentum she beat him on the inside, and looped around into the clear, scooping up the puck she’d just slipped through.

Nish turned the other way, sweeping his stick across the ice as he fell.

But it was too late. Sam was clear. She moved to her backhand, delayed, waited with the patience of Fahd, and then drilled a backhand high and so hard that it blew the water bottle off the top of the net.

The rink erupted in cheers. It had been a sweet enough play on its own, but it was the move on Nish that had electrified the crowd.

“Kind of undressed you there, didn’t I, big boy,” Sam said as she skated back past Nish. “Too bad this is a hockey rink and not Wreck Beach.”

Nish never said a word, but Travis could tell he was steaming. And he could hear Sam’s breathing, shallow and hard. She’d just skated the length of the ice, and they were all tired, but her breathing was louder and quicker than the others.

As Sam’s game began to slip, Nish suddenly took his play up another notch. He hadn’t said a word in answer to Sam after her magnificent goal, but Travis knew his friend well enough to know that his beet-red face was a sign Nish was ready to get serious.

Travis caught Muck’s expression just before the faceoff. Muck was coaching from the other side, but he, too, had seen the change come over Nish. Usually Muck tried to provoke this in Nish to get him into a game, but now Sam had done it for him. Travis decided that Muck would probably be pleased. He wanted all the Owls to play well, even if it was against him. And getting Wayne Nishikawa to play the best hockey he could was something Muck counted among his greatest, if most difficult, achievements.

In the second half, Nish was like a whole new player. He was suddenly faster, smarter, slicker. He checked better. He passed better. He shot better.

Nish scored first on an end-to-end rush when he deked past Sam in a play almost identical to the one she had scored on. Nish scored on a terrific blast from the point after Sarah set him up and used her body to block Sam from getting to him. Nish scored on a two-on-one where Travis kept the puck for a long delay then slid a back pass to him for a hard, high one-timer.

They played, back and forth, for the full two periods of straight time, and when the horn finally blew the score was Owls 9, Owls 9.

It didn’t matter which side was Fahd’s, which side Nish’s. The two teams were tied.