“What happens now?” Nish asked Data as they gathered at the bench to catch their breath and take in some water.

“Shoot-out,” said Data.

“Who shoots?” Nish asked, expecting it would be him.

“Everyone,” Data said. “Three shots–and if it’s still tied, then it’s one after another until one team goes ahead.”

Nish scored. Travis scored. Sarah hit the post. Fahd scored. Sam scored. Jeremy caught Gordie’s hard wrist shot.

Owls 11, Owls 11.

“What now?” Sarah asked when they returned to the bench. Nish was spraying water directly into his face.

“We pick a single shooter,” said Data.

“Who?” Travis asked.

Data seemed reluctant to say.

“I’ve got to go with Nish,” he said finally.

Nish shook his head. “Like there was ever any other choice.”

Sarah turned to Travis, her eyebrows raised. “Is it ever okay to cheer for the other side?” she asked.

Travis just laughed. There was no answer for that. There was no explaining Nish.

The other side chose Sam. It caught Travis by surprise, because Fahd had played such a great tournament, but Sam was the better regular hockey player and had the good shot.

Sam was first. She went in fast, braked suddenly and slipped the puck through Jeremy’s five hole.

Nish went second. He flew up and blasted a slapshot that went in under Jenny’s arm.

Owls 12, Owls 12.

Sam went again, and scored again, this time on a pretty play where she deked left and scored from the right side, one-handed.

“It’s all up to you,” Data said to Nish.

“I know.”

Nish picked up the puck at centre, moved slowly, then began cutting for the net. He faked and held, and Jenny moved with him, ready to stack her pads. He held still, waiting for the net to open, but Jenny held her position, drifting with him.

She’d obviously been studying Fahd’s play. She was just as patient, just as determined.

Nish ran out of space. He had to shoot. He tried to lift it over her pads, but it was too late and the puck rang off the outside of the goal post and bounced harmlessly away.

Fahd’s Owls had won the 3-on-3 tournament!

The rink erupted, as much in relief as in excitement. It had been an odd feeling, with everyone cheering for the Screech Owls and determined to be happy no matter what the score.

It had been a wonderful game. It had been a difficult tournament. It had been a terrible experience at times. But now, with the murders solved, with the tournament completed, and with the Screech Owls both champions and runners-up, life was returning to normal.

Finally.

The organizers came onto the ice for the presentation. There were gold medals for the winners and silver for the runners-up.

Then they announced the tournament MVP, and to no one’s surprise, it went to Sam.

A woman came out carrying a square, silver-covered box and began to open it.

“Hey,” called Nish. “Maybe it’s a snow globe!”

“Get a life!” snapped Sarah, standing beside him.

But it was not a snow globe. Slowly the woman drew the trophy from the box.

It was a beautiful West Coast native wood carving.

Of a dolphin.

Sam burst into tears as she accepted it. She held it tight with one arm and threw the other around the woman, hugging hard.

The smiling organizers took it for tears of joy.

Everyone else in the rink knew that was only part of the story.

 

THE END