Undergrounders (16 page)

The coaches came over, and Lou put a hand on my shoulder. “We’re glad to see you back. We want to forget about the past and start over. Okay? Does that work for you?”

I mumbled, “Sure.” I wasn’t so sure that was really true. How could anyone forget what I said? I sure hadn’t forgotten anything.

Malcolm patted me on the back. “You and I have had our differences, haven’t we? But I want to put that in the past, too.”

He held out his hand. I felt goofy but we shook.

“You’ve got a lot of talent,” Malcolm continued, “and man can you skate. I’ve been on you to pass, and I want you to think about something before the game. Good players score goals; great players help teammates score too. And I think you can be a great player.”

“I’ll try, Malcolm.”

“That’s all we want,” he said.

Lou was nodding the whole time, and he put my hockey bag on my shoulder. “Go get changed. We’re in Room 4. We’ll be there in fifteen minutes to talk to you guys.”

I was more than happy to end the conversation. That was embarrassing. It almost made me want to drop the bag and run out of the arena. I wondered if Malcolm was being serious about me being a great player, and I got the part about passing more. I know I sometimes carry the puck too much. I promised myself to really try this game. No more Mr. Puck Hog.

I stopped in front of Room 4, and suddenly a wave of fear washed over me. I would rather have faced W5 at that moment, I was so terrified. It wasn’t like they were going to pound me. But they knew my secret, that I’d been a street kid, eating out of garbage cans and hawking for money, that I had stolen stuff, and that I didn’t have parents or a home. Even worse, I was still going to be Stink Bomb no matter how clean I was now. I know kids. Like me, they wouldn’t forget. I stood there, literally unable to move. I wanted to leave; and I wanted to play.

“Hurry up, Jonny,” I heard Lou call out.

I took a deep breath and I pushed the door open and went inside. All talking ended in an instant. Rasheed moved his bag over and pointed next to him. I leaned my stick against the wall, and with my eyes glued to the floor, accepted his offer.

A few guys at the far end started talking, but too quiet for me to hear.

I kept getting dressed, as the guys started talking again, only still kind of quietly.

“Do you need some sock tape?” Rasheed asked me once I got to putting on my skates.

I had never used it before because it cost too much. Whenever the guys asked I said it bugged me and slowed me down. The truth was sometimes my shin pads were twisted to the side and I fell right on my knee. I was always jealous of how the guys had sock tape — and it bugged me so much that they wasted it all the time.

“I could use a bit, I guess,” I said.

He tossed a roll to me. “Keep it,” he said. “I got lots.”

Collin leaned over. In a quiet voice, he said, “Jonathon, I gotta ask you. What was the deal with that W5 guy? Is that really his name? And did you really hit him where it counts?”

“That was Scrunchy Face,” Rasheed corrected.

“I thought it was Rigger,” Jacob threw in.

“Scrunchy Face was the guy I hit at the TV station,” I said.

All of a sudden the questions came pouring in.

“Where is this Underground place?” Derrick asked.

“What’s the Underground?” Andrew said.

“That’s where he lived all this time,” someone answered.

“Hey, is it true about those drunk guys fighting over Rasheed’s sleeping bag?” Peter said.

“Well, the drunks, they sleep on the vent, and there were two of them … Yeah, it’s true; and the Underground, well, it’s downtown.”

“How do you sleep on a vent?” Andrew said, looking confused.

“I’ve been all over downtown and I never saw an underground,” Jacob said.

“It’s a secret place — that’s the point,” Collin said.

Rasheed came to my rescue. “Hey, guys. Let’s give Jonathon a chance to get ready. We can hammer him with questions after we win.”

I shot him a grateful look and began to tie my skates. The guys began talking about the Red Wings. They’d finished first and had only lost three games all year. This was the third game of the series. The Red Wings had won the first two, and it was a must-win for us or we’d be out.

I finished with my skates as the coaches came in.

“You ready for this one?” Rasheed asked me.

I was still freaked by even being here. I wasn’t really thinking about the game at all. All I could manage was a nod.

“I bet Jonathon is gonna get a hat trick. This is our game, Rangers!” he yelled.

I looked at him in shock. He began chanting, “Ran-gers! Ran-gers! Ran-gers!”

The other guys joined in, and then the coaches — and then guess who?

I had to. This was my team.

You would not believe the difference a little food and sleep can make. Three minutes left in the third period, and I felt great, totally charged and hardly tired at all. Usually, the end of the game was torture, my stomach and head aching like crazy. I didn’t feel too good about the score: 5–3 for the Red Wings. Somehow or other, even with passing the puck like mad, I had almost made good on Rasheed’s bet and had scored two goals. Rasheed got the third off my pass from behind the net, which made me feel good, and Malcolm made a fuss over me on the bench.

It didn’t help our chances that Jacob got a tripping penalty. Even if the Red Wings didn’t score on the power play, there wouldn’t be enough time to tie it up. Rasheed and Derrick were out for the kill.

“Take him, Rasheed,” Lou yelled, as a Red Wing cut toward the outside in the neutral zone.

“You got him, Rasheed,” I said. No one heard me, but it was funny how good it felt to say it. I don’t think I’d ever cheered on the guys before.

Rasheed moved to his right and swung his stick at the puck. A huge groan went up from the Rangers’ parents. His stick had caught the opposing player’s blade and the player’s feet went out from under him.

“He tripped over the red line, ref.”

“Barely touched him.”

“Why don’t you give the Red Wings the game?”

I thought Rasheed had tripped him. But Lou went ballistic. It was the first time I’d seen him really lose his temper.

“Ref, you’re killing the game. He falls and we get a penalty with three minutes left. Please!”

The ref barely looked over. I could tell Rasheed felt real bad about the penalty. That was definitely the game — and the season. Malcolm hopped up on the bench and huddled up with Lou, and then he came over and leaned down next to me.

“Here’s the deal,” Malcolm said. “We need to kill this two-man disadvantage off, and hope we can pull our goalie and tie it up. Do you think you have the wind to do that?”

He wouldn’t have asked if he knew how I usually felt at the end of a game without having eaten all day.

“I feel great, coach,” I said.

“Then get out there and keep the puck out of our net.”

He whacked my helmet, which kind of hurt, but I didn’t mind because I figured he meant it friendly.

“Go for it,” Lou said.

“Your puck, Jonathon,” a parent cheered.

I shuffled to the door and stepped onto the ice. Derrick saw me and came off, slapping my shin pads as we passed. “Keep us in the game,” he said.

I skated over to the faceoff circle. I needed to get
that puck and take some time off the penalty. That wouldn’t be easy with a five-on-three, and the faceoff just outside our blue line. I hunched over the dot as the ref held the puck out.

That Matthew kid who played with me at the outdoor rink was the other centre.

“Jonathon, pull it back and I’ll send it down the ice,” Peter said.

The puck dropped, and Matthew tried to knock my stick away, only I had it in a reverse grip and snaked the puck back to Peter before Matthew had a chance to mess me up. Peter didn’t fool around. He waited until a Red Wings forechecker came close and then blasted the puck all the way down. I couldn’t believe it. He had actually done it. The puck caromed around the wall and up the side to the Red Wings’ right winger, who played it back behind his net to a defenceman.

Matthew circled behind and took the puck, with the defenceman following in support. I let him get up some speed before swerving over at the blue line. He tried to power through me. Usually, I don’t do much hitting, on account of being so small. Something got into me and I lowered my shoulder and threw myself into his chest. I knocked him right off his feet.

The puck slithered behind him, and the Red Wings’ left winger raced after it. A second before he got it I poke-checked the puck to the side, jumped around him, and got control. Collin was too close for a pass, and the Red Wings’ right winger had Peter covered. This time I had to keep it. I was strolling along the side wall, in no
hurry because I wanted to kill the clock, when I heard the sound of skates charging at me. A quick glance told me it was Matthew. The guy could skate, so I picked up the pace and cut hard into the middle of the ice, about a foot outside their blue line. Then the Red Wings’ right winger came at me and I had to think fast.

I couldn’t go into their end, so I turned back to ours, with both Red Wings forwards hard after me. I guess my change of direction fooled Collin and Peter, and they were too close for a pass. I had to hold onto it. I hoped Malcolm wouldn’t be too mad, but I thought I’d made the right choice. Anyway, I ended up all the way back in our end and eventually behind the net.

“Don’t charge him,” Matthew ordered, as he stopped in the slot. The two wingers camped out on the flanks, and their defencemen took the blue line. Collin and Peter came back too, but with all those players in our zone a pass would be real tough. I had to do this alone, and if I gave up the puck, they’d probably score.

A flurry of memories came into my head as I stood behind the net. A bizarre time to daydream, I admit, only I couldn’t stop it. I remembered playing at the outdoor rink, all those imaginary games, pretending to score the overtime goal to win the Stanley Cup, being so cold but still not caring because any hockey was better than hawking with J.J. or Will or Rose. I remembered the sound of my blades cutting into the ice, and the snap of the puck off my stick. Best of all I remembered how safe I felt when I played, no one after me, doing what I wanted. And at that moment I felt happy. Then I
thought about my mom, and how happy she’d be to see me right now, and to know I wasn’t hungry or cold.

I was going to kill this penalty for my teammates.

Matthew made the first move, darting to the right, and then the left winger charged from the other side. I took two strides to my right, slipped the puck between the left winger’s skates, and cut forward into the slot. The right winger held out with his stick, which forced me to stickhandle to my left and just out of his reach. The right defenceman decided to stand his ground. A flick off the boards and I was past him. All that was left was a foot race with the left D, and by the blue line I was in alone. I couldn’t believe it. I’d beaten five guys.

The goalie came out, slowly backing up into his crease. I wasn’t going to let him spoil the moment. I’d spent hours shooting at an empty net counting how many times I could hit the post and bounce it in. At the hash marks I faked a deke and let it fly to the stick side. He was totally fooled, and I didn’t even need the post. The puck plunked into the net. I’d done what Rasheed had said I would do — scored a hat trick.

Even better, we were only down by a goal and we had 1:30 left on the clock — still time to tie it up.

Peter and Collin were all over me as I skated to the bench.

“Hall-of-fame moment,” Collin said, over and over.

“That was fun to watch,” Peter said, slapping me on the helmet.

Did that mean he thought I hogged the puck? Peter sounded happy enough, but I was nervous. Lou leaned
over the boards.

“Now that’s what I call penalty killing. In ten seconds Jacob gets out, and Rasheed’s out in thirty after that. Give me Derrick out there …” He stopped and turned to me. “Wait a sec. Jonny, how do you feel?”

I felt every kid’s eyes blazing into me. Before I quit the team I’d have said I felt fine even if I was tired. And even after that shift I felt good. I could easily have kept playing, but Derrick was leaning over the bench. He really wanted to get out there.

“I could use a rest, coach,” I said.

Lou nodded. “Get out there, Derrick. Jonathon will go on when we pull Andrew.”

I had a feeling that wasn’t the smartest thing to do if we wanted to win, but it was the smartest thing for the team because everyone cheered Derrick on and they were all happy and made a fuss over the goal.

Derrick lost the draw at centre and the Red Wings stormed our net. Jacob got on and joined the kill, but Matthew got a pass in the slot and wired a shot into the top corner just as Rasheed stepped out of the box. We were two down and only a minute to go. I flopped down on the bench. We were so close, and now we were going to lose.

“Jonathon, get ready to go on for Andrew.”

“What?”

Jacob pulled me to my feet. Andrew was pounding his way to the bench.

“Get on — we’re pulling the goalie!” Jacob yelled in my ear, and he practically threw me over the boards.
Lou was yelling at Rasheed to get it in deep, and Malcolm was at the other end of the bench. “Go, Rangers, go!” he shrieked. The Rangers’ parents had completely lost it also and they were all chanting, “Ran-gers! Ran-gers!” I landed on the ice and tore after the puck. Maybe we could get a couple of quick goals and force another game. This season wasn’t over. Think of me half-starving in Rasheed’s garage and now I was playing hockey and had never felt better. Miracles do happen.

The puck came back to Collin and he drilled it on the net. An insane scramble developed in front, Rasheed whacking at it by the side of the net, and he eventually sent the puck spinning to the corner. I was on it and passed back to Collin who one-timed it, only it hit someone and the puck bounced back to me in the corner. I figured Collin had a wicked shot so I passed it right back to him. This time he went far side and the goalie kicked out his pad, sending the puck spinning to Derrick against the boards. He battled for it and was able to cycle it down low to Rasheed who surprised everyone by whistling it all the way along the wall to Collin.