Chapter Three

SOCKEY

“JIMMMM!!!” my dad shouted up from the laundry room.

We had just finished dinner, and I was sweeping the kitchen floor. I could hear my dad stomping up the basement steps.

“Jim, what is this?” he asked, appearing at the top of the stairs.

He was holding a basket full of dirty laundry. My jeans from that day were crumpled on top.

“What’s what?” I asked.

Dad set down the laundry basket and held up my jeans. “This vomit-colored stuff on your brand-new pants,” he replied.

“Oh,” I said. “That’s vomit.”

“Yuck!” Dad shouted, throwing the pants back into the basket. “How about a heads-up next time, Jim?”

He picked up the laundry basket, and a balled-up pair of socks fell to the ground. They skittered across the wood floor toward me.

“Got it, Dad!” I exclaimed.

Using the kitchen broom, I batted the sock ball like a hockey puck. I pushed the socks around the kitchen floor, down the hallway, and then back toward Dad.

“MEOOOOOW!”

My cat Vinnie chased alongside. He swiped at the puck with his razor-sharp claws. I zigged and zagged, keeping just out of his reach.

“Wow!” my dad exclaimed. “You’ve really gotten good, Jim! The hockey team will be lucky to have you.”

“Thanks, Dad. But —” I stopped.

“But what, Jim?” asked Dad.

“Well, it’s not my puckhandling that I’m worried about,” I said, weaving the sock-puck in and out of the dining-room furniture. “It’s my skating skills.”

“What about them?” Dad asked.

“I don’t have any!” I exclaimed.

“Maybe it’s not you,” my dad suggested. “Maybe your equipment is holding you back. Let’s head over to the sporting goods store tomorrow before practice. A new pair of skates might be just what the doctor ordered.”

“Really? Thanks, Dad!” I shouted. “I promise you won’t be disappointed.”

I glanced down at the sock-puck on the kitchen floor. Then I pulled the broom back behind my head and swung it forward.

WHACK! I unleashed a monster slapshot. The sock-puck rocketed across the kitchen toward my dad.

THWAP! The makeshift puck struck him right on the melon. It bounced off his forehead and fell into the laundry basket in his hands.

Dad frowned. “Like I said, son, a little heads-up would be nice.” Then he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and gave it a sniff. “Wait — what’s on these socks?!”