Making the Cut (4 page)

“So we deducted 50 points from Mr. Joyce’s score. Therefore, the winner of the fitness test is Corey Sanderson.”

Charlie’s stomach did a flip-flop. He felt sick. The boys around Corey clapped him on the shoulders. Corey’s grin seemed too big for his face.

“That’s a bit unfair,” Slogger muttered.

Charlie prayed he wouldn’t tear up. He took a couple of deep breaths. Maybe Slogger was right, but he could only blame himself. Stupid not to set his alarm properly.

“It’s eleven o’clock, boys,” Jen said. “Why don’t we go for a nice, little run — to build up an appetite for lunch.”

All the players groaned.

“Not too far,” she said. “Just to get the kinks out. After lunch it’s a one-hour rest period — then we hit the ice.” That drew a cheer. “Now follow me.”

She took off towards the door. There was a logjam, so Charlie waited in line. Trevor grasped Charlie’s arm.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “You did fantastic on the tests. Jen honestly felt bad about it, only she made such a big deal about being punctual and thought she had to do something to show she was serious. Put it behind you.”

Charlie didn’t know what to say. “Thanks, Trevor. I guess I can do better with the schedule.” He lowered his head. “I kinda have a problem with being places on time. I’m pathetic.”

“We think you’re pathetic too,” Scott said.

“It won’t happen again,” Nick said. “We’ll be his parents. Now be a good little boy and eat your vegetables.”

“That sounds like a great idea,” Trevor said. He pointed to the door. Everyone else had gone. “You might want to get going now.”

“Thanks, Trevor,” they chorused, and took off laughing.

Outside the door they all tried a group high-five while running and almost ended up flying into a bush. They were barely able to keep going they were laughing so hard, and Charlie felt grateful his friends were here. He couldn’t imagine what this camp would be like if he was alone.

Charlie shuffled forward, cradling the puck on his forehand, waiting for his turn. Clark hadn’t lied about the hard work — the practice was intense. Drills lasted almost an hour, and they were brutal. Nick and Scott were on another rink, but Corey was with him. Charlie was still struggling to catch his breath, as he waited for the one-on-one drill to start. He felt good so far. At least his skating held up, and he’d been at or near the front almost every time. He was kind of surprised to find he was faster than Corey. It was weird because he looked fast, his form was perfect and he started off great. He just didn’t take it into high gear. Maybe he was saving it up since he was here last year and the coaches knew him. The big centre worked hard, though, and never let up, not even for one drill.

At the far end, Corey was ready to go, and Slogger came out to defend. Charlie was interested in seeing what each of them could do. Slogger had already impressed him with his quickness. Corey drove hard to
centre, and then about eight feet from the blue line he head-faked left and then cut sharply to the outside. Slogger calmly pivoted on his left foot and forced Corey into the boards. It looked like Corey was cut off, but he refused to give up and continued on to the goal. Slogger lowered his shoulder and knocked Corey off the puck, and pushed it to the back boards with his stick. He then turned to rejoin the defencemen.

Corey still didn’t stop. He raced over and pulled the puck back from behind the net, pushed off in front of the crease, and reaching around the goalie shovelled in a backhand on the stick side.

“Guy’s a total nut job,” someone said.

Charlie didn’t have time to think about it. He was next.

He took off hard to gain maximum speed, and then he slowed slightly. The defenceman, a kid named Markus, slowed to match his pace, with one hand on his stick and the other held up shoulder height. He was fairly tall, so Charlie figured he was the poke checker type. As he crossed the red line, Charlie threw in a stutter step and drove outside on his forehand. The defenceman turned slightly, ready to head him off. Charlie faked an inside move. The defenceman overreacted and shifted his shoulders that way. Charlie immediately turned on the jets, continuing on the outside, leaving the defender flat-footed. About fifteen feet from the goal, Charlie cut into the slot. He thought of faking a forehand and going glove side with a backhand deke, when the goalie came out and dropped into a butterfly. The top of the net was
totally exposed. Charlie snapped a wrist shot over the goalie’s shoulder on the short side.

The defenceman brushed against him as he cut to rejoin the forwards in the corner. “Try that chicken move again and I’ll drop you,” he growled before skating off.

The fun of scoring melted away. Coach Clark had said camp would be competitive. Probably no surprise that some guys would take it over the top.

Charlie took a couple more turns, fortunately not against Markus. He scored on his last try too. The defenceman kept backing in, so Charlie fired a low shot three feet inside the top of the circle between the defender’s legs and right through the goalie’s five-hole.

Binns blew his whistle.

“Black shirts down at the far end for shooting practice. Red shirts stay here. Let’s move it, boys.”

The players wearing black skated off. Binns drifted to the blue line, counting as he went.

“Excellent. We have ten players. I’m going to pair you up. One player stands at the top of the circle. The second player is behind him. I’m going to dump the puck into one corner. The first player to touch the puck is the forward and he tries to score. The second player defends. Play ends when my whistle blows. If the puck turns over, your roles switch.”

He picked two players who were standing together. “Why don’t you two show ’em how it’s done.” The two players skated over. “What are your names?”

“I’m Simon.”

“Gabriel.”

“Sounds good. We’ll have Simon in front.”

Charlie had noticed these two. Gabriel could absolutely fly, and he was a wizard with the puck. Simon was a powerful skater and had a wicked shot.

Binns fired the puck into the corner. Simon got there first and cut hard to his right, carrying it behind the net, holding Gabriel off with his right arm. As he passed the far post, he spun, reversed directions, and tried to force his way to the front. Gabriel stuck his hips back, forcing Simon to go wide. Simon kept the puck to the hash marks, pulled it towards his skates with the tip of his stick and snapped off a quick shot. It was a cool move, although Gabriel got in the way and the puck deflected off his shin pad and bounced harmlessly to the far corner. Before they could give chase the whistle blew.

“Nice positioning, Gabriel,” Binns said. “Notice how he didn’t overcommit. Stay in front of your man, using your stick to force him outside. Simon, that was nice puck control, and a nifty try to get the shot off. Good work, both of you.”

Binns tapped his stick and nodded at Charlie and Zane. “How about you two give it a go.”

Charlie relished the challenge. He’d show Zane a thing or two. The guy was huge, but Charlie was willing to bet he wasn’t that fast. He’d use his speed to blow by him. The puck went to the left corner, and Charlie raced after it. As he expected, Zane was slower, which gave him a few feet to work with. Charlie faked with his forehand, lowering his left shoulder and scooping up the puck on his backhand. What he didn’t expect was Zane being
in the perfect spot, stick extended in his right hand, his left hand held high.

But Zane wouldn’t be expecting Charlie’s favourite move — puck between the legs and the 360 spin.

The puck part went fine. The 360 spin ran into one problem: Zane’s shoulder. Charlie bounced off him and nearly lost his footing. Zane grabbed the loose puck, went in alone and fired a shot into the goalie’s stomach.

“Useless shot,” Zane cried, and slapped his stick on the ice. “Way to put it right on him.”

Binns held his hand up and gave Zane a high-five. “Nice play. No panic. As for the shot, well, why don’t you stay a defenceman.”

Zane laughed and rejoined the group. Binns looked over at Charlie. “You did well to retrieve the puck, nice speed. You need to be more careful, though. That was a very high-risk play. The point of this drill is to heighten the danger of losing the puck. If the defenceman has you, hold on to the puck and look for an opportunity.”

While Binns organized the next two, Charlie fretted over his poor play. Binns was right. He vowed never to underestimate anyone at this camp again, even a muscle-head like Zane. Binns couldn’t have been too impressed by that effort. Zane had made him look ordinary.

Coach Clark had been right. Everyone at this camp was solid, and he couldn’t expect all his usual tricks to work.

After a few other pairs went, Binns said, “Why don’t we try Charlie and Zane again? This time Zane is in front.”

Charlie had to strain to see around Zane’s broad back. He knew he needed to show Binns something this time. The puck was lofted to the right corner, and Charlie cut inside Zane’s left shoulder and flew after it with short choppy strides. His move surprised Zane and they both arrived at the puck at the same time. Zane then surprised him by easing up slightly, allowing Charlie to touch it first.

Then he wished he hadn’t. Zane drove Charlie into the boards so hard he lost his wind for a second. Both of them bounced off. Charlie looked down, all the while fighting for breath. The puck remained against the boards. Before Zane could recover his balance, Charlie knifed the puck on his backhand and swooped between him and the post. The goalie threw out his paddle for a poke check, a smart move that would have worked if Charlie hadn’t transferred the puck to his forehand a second before. He took two steps across the front of the net and swept the puck into the far side — just before Zane’s stick whacked him on the right forearm.

The whistle blew and Binns let out a loud, “Hurrah!”

“Finally, a goal on this drill. Love it. That was hard — that was hockey. You all see that focus by Charlie? He took the hit, kept his cool, and made a play on the net. Zane, don’t give up after the hit. These guys don’t fall down too easy.”

The next pair lined up. Charlie was smarting from the slash, and still winded from the hit; but Binns’s praise took the sting out of it. If that’s what it took to score a goal at this camp — then that’s what he’d do.

And maybe Zane wouldn’t underestimate him, either.

BEEEP! BEEEP! BEEEP!

Charlie turned the alarm off, relieved that it had worked, and tossed the covers to the side. He’d spent ten minutes checking and rechecking the alarm last night. As he got dressed he felt unfamiliar pains in his legs and shoulders, and then it dawned on him that he was actually sore from the fitness testing and the practice.

“I feel like an old man,” he said to Corey, twisting his back and flinging his arms windmill style to loosen up.

Corey didn’t answer.

“Wake up, Corey. Breakfast is in thirty minutes.”

Charlie shook his head. His roommate was amazing that way — already gone. Did he ever sleep? Charlie finished dressing quickly. He wanted to knock on Scott and Nick’s door this time.

Bang. Bang. Bang
. Nick and Scott walked in.

“Did you guys sleep outside my door?” Charlie said. “Let me wake you up for once.”

“Joyce, your pathetic attempt to wake up early
cannot defeat my awesome ability to rise at an ungodly hour,” Scott said.

“I woke you up this morning,” Nick declared.

“What I meant was Charlie’s pathetic attempt to wake up early cannot defeat my awesome ability to be woken up by Nick …”

“It’s too early for me to listen to this,” Nick said. “I need breakfast first.”

“Is it too early to listen to this?” Scott said. He began to imitate a chicken.

“Where’s the roommate?” Nick asked Charlie as they left for the cafeteria.

“Dunno. He’s like The Shadow. The guy disappears on me all the time.”

“Maybe he has super powers,” Scott said excitedly, “that allow him to turn into a white mist and slip under the door …” He trailed off. “It’s too early for that too, isn’t it.”

“We’ll tell you when to talk again,” Nick said.

Scott paid no attention. “Joyce, I’m not sure about your roomie. He kinda scares me.”

Scott got along with almost everyone, so his comment took Charlie by surprise. “He’s okay,” Charlie said slowly. “Like I said before. He’s a little intense, is all. Give him a chance.”

Nick didn’t look convinced. “If he can play, then all’s forgiven. If he hangs out with Jake, forget it.”

Charlie knew Nick was joking, but it bothered him that his friends had taken a dislike to Corey so quickly.

“There’s my roomie,” Scott said suddenly, and he ran
ahead. “Hey, Sloggermeister. Wait up.” He clapped Slogger on the back. “Yo, Slogger. You can’t go to breakfast without us. You won’t understand the delicate balance between fruit and fibre.”

That broke Slogger up. “You’re a twisted young man,” he said.

Then he and Scott did a hilarious pretend handshake, which started with a patty-cake, and ended with elbow strikes, flapping arms, and two fingers wiggling behind their ears.

Scott, Nick and Slogger cracked jokes and dissed each other all the way to the cafeteria. Charlie followed along, struggling to keep up with the rapid-fire conversation. He’d always envied Scott and Nick for how easily they made new friends and could talk to anyone. Charlie was usually at a loss for words when he was with people he didn’t know well.

There was a fairly long lineup for the food. Charlie took a tray and joined it. Still only half-awake, he looked around the cafeteria. Jen was wheeling a large whiteboard against a wall. A bunch of early risers were already finished eating, Corey among them. He was holding court, gesturing wildly, to a table full of listeners.

“Ladies and gentlemen.” A loud voice jarred Charlie out of his sleepy thoughts. “For your amusement and pleasure, I shall attempt the impossible. Behold the great Jakerini, who shall attempt to juggle three eggs with a bowl of cereal on his head.”

That got everyone’s attention.

“Ten bucks says he drops it all.”

“A hundred bucks says he falls on his butt.”

Jake laughed and bowed to the crowd. “I thank you for your encouragement. I require silence, please; and do not attempt this on your own. I am a professional, and you could get hurt.”

“Or end up looking like a doofus,” someone quipped.

Jake laughed, and then slowly placed the cereal bowl on this head.

“Ta da!”

The guys clapped loudly, and a chant went up.

“Jug-gle! Jug-gle! Jug-gle!”

Jake raised the three eggs — and he actually began to juggle. Everyone went crazy, whistling and clapping in appreciation. He caught the eggs — and that’s when the cereal bowl fell, and the milk splashed all over his shirt and sweatpants.

Charlie would have felt sorry for him — if it hadn’t been Jake. Talk about awkward.

Only Jake didn’t look the slightest bit upset. He was laughing his head off, and so was everyone else. He bowed deeply.

“Can you juggle bowls of soup next?” someone asked.

“How about spaghetti and meatballs?”

“Thank you. Thank you. I’ll be performing here all week.” Jake picked up the bowl and put it on his head like a hat, took his food tray back from Zane, and a large group of guys followed them to a table.

Scott leaned over to Charlie. “I always knew he belonged in a circus ’cause he’s such a clown.”

Charlie was too stunned even to laugh. This wasn’t the Jake he knew. Where was the bully who took himself so seriously and picked on people all the time? He’d only met Slogger and Corey, and he barely knew them. Jake was already friends with half the camp.

Charlie never ate a big breakfast, especially this early, and so he helped himself to some cereal and an orange juice and joined his friends.

“So what happens today?” Scott asked.

“Did you forget to read your schedule? Jen will be terribly disappointed,” Nick said.

“Of course I read it. I’m just testing you.”

Corey had spent half an hour last night explaining the schedule to Charlie, so he practically knew it by heart.

“First, we get divided into our teams,” he said. “Then we meet our coaches, when we’ll be given a binder with practice drills and forechecking and defensive schemes sketched out. Then we have our first team practice. That’s followed by lunch, down time for an hour, during which my roommate will do tons of sit-ups and push-ups or go for a run …” That got a laugh from Nick and Scott and a quizzical look from Slogger, “and then a second practice. According to Corey, we definitely will not scrimmage today. No chance. Then it’s free time to dinner, and there’s a movie in the cafeteria until curfew at ten.”

All three guys began clapping.

“Joyce, if you studied this hard in school your marks would be way higher,” Scott said.

“Attention over here,” Jen announced. “I’ve posted today’s schedule on the bulletin board — and the rosters for the four teams.” She gestured to the whiteboard behind her. All the players began talking at once.

“Quiet down, boys. Let Jen finish,” Trevor pleaded.

The announcement proved too exciting however, and a low murmur continued. “You’ve got another five minutes to eat,” Jen said, “so finish your breakfast. You’ll see the teams soon enough — believe me, you’ll need the energy. Once you’ve seen your team, please go to the conference room with your team number. Team 1 meets in room one, et cetera. Not too difficult, even for hockey players.”

Jake’s table roared at Jen’s joke.

She pointed at the board again. “Following the meeting, which will take about an hour, you’ll go to your designated rink for the morning practice.”

She’d barely finished before a horde of players charged to see the teams.

“Don’t those losers know I’m the only one who made Team 1,” Scott said.

Charlie almost choked on his toast laughing. Scott had a way of saying anything and making it funny.

“You think you’re a funny guy?” Zane glared at Charlie, his fists clenched. “Let’s take a walk outside where the coaches won’t interrupt.”

Dumbfounded, Charlie stared back. What was he talking about?

“Why don’t you call me a loser to my face, loser,” he thundered.

So that was it. Zane thought he’d made the joke, and had misunderstood what Scott said.

“Zane, no one was dissin’ you. My buds and I were joking around. It’s cool.”

“What’s cool is me putting my fist through your head,” Zane growled, taking a step forward.

Charlie’s heart was beating wildly. He wasn’t afraid of a fight, but he certainly didn’t look forward to messing with Zane. He knew firsthand how strong he was. Behind him he noticed Jake smirking. Did he put Zane up to this?

“Like I said, we weren’t talking about you.”

Zane turned to Jake. “This dude’s lamer than a cold grilled cheese sandwich. You actually go to school with this wiener?”

Jake shrugged. “Chill, man. We’re all fellow campers.” He came over and pulled Zane aside, clapping him on the shoulder a few times. “There’s no point fighting him — he’s not in your league.”

All the guys at his table got up and followed them to the board. Zane turned around, and with his right hand pointed two fingers to his eyes and then back at Charlie.

“Does he need glasses?” Scott joked.

“What’s his name?” Slogger asked.

Charlie’s heart was still thumping. “It’s Zane,” he managed.

“More like Insane,” Nick said.

Charlie told them about his run-in with Zane at the
fitness test.

“At least we know his push-ups are weak,” Scott said.

“I don’t think too much of him is weak. He’s one big dude,” Slogger said.

“And ugly,” Scott added.

“Let’s see where we’re playing,” Charlie suggested. He didn’t need to be reminded about Zane’s size.

The guys were still crowding around the lists so Charlie couldn’t see them at first. Over the shoulder of one kid he noticed that Nick was on Team 3, and then he saw Scott’s name under Team 4. To his surprise Corey was on Team 3. Jake was on Team 2. He felt a bit lightheaded as he looked to the final list.

He couldn’t believe it: Charlie Joyce — Team 1.

Slogger elbowed him. “We’re teammates. Be nice to me and I’ll pass to you once in a while.”

Charlie ran down the Team 1 list. Savard and Burnett had made it, as had Simon and Gabriel. His heart sank a bit when he saw Zane had too; Slogger’s name was under his.

Scott clapped Charlie and Slogger on the back. “Well done, Joyce. Bloody good show, Sir Sloggster.”

Charlie wondered if Scott was miffed at being on Team 4. “You’ll move up quick,” Charlie said to him, “once the coaches see you play. What can you tell from one practice.”

“I agree,” Scott said, with his usual good humour. “It takes time to recognize my genius on the ice.”

Nick didn’t look too happy. “Charlie’s right,” he said. “You’ll be moved up by next practice, I bet.”

For all their dissing, they were best friends, and Charlie could tell Nick wanted Scott to be on his team.

For a moment Scott didn’t look too happy either. “Doesn’t matter,” he said. “It’ll be fun.” A big grin crossed his face. “Besides, think how spectacular my rise to fame will be when I’m selected MVP of the Challenge Game.”

“I believe that stands for Most Valuable Princess?” Nick said.

“It does?” Scott said, as if thunderstruck. “Now that’s embarrassing.”

They kept up the jokes on the way to their respective rooms. Charlie really believed Scott would soon move up from Team 4. He was too good a player, but as a defensive defenceman, the coaches probably didn’t appreciate him yet.

Scott stopped before a door with a large number 4 written on a piece of paper. “I’m not sure where Team 4 is meeting. I’ll go in here and ask.”

“I’m lost too,” Nick said, pointing to a door with a 3. “I’ll go ask in there.”

Charlie waved goodbye and he and Slogger continued on until Slogger spotted the Team 1 sign down another hall. They were about to turn that way when Charlie saw Corey standing by an exit. He figured Corey would be upset by not getting on a higher team.

“I’ll catch up with you in a sec,” Charlie said to Slogger. “I just wanna speak to my roommate.”

Charlie didn’t quite know what to say, but thought at the very least he could say hi. As he got closer he saw that Corey was actually on his cell phone. He had a
hand cupped to one ear, and his face was pressed into a corner. It was a little noisy in the hall, but it still looked weird being all twisted up like that.

“Hey, Corey,” he began.

Corey kept talking.

“Yo, Corey,” he said louder.

No response.

Charlie tugged on Corey’s sleeve, which startled his roommate so much he practically jumped out of his skin. Charlie started to laugh, but then stopped abruptly. Corey’s face was pale, almost ghostly, as if all his blood had been drained away.

“I gotta go. Bye,” Corey said, and he closed his phone.

“Are you … okay?” Charlie asked tentatively. “Are you sick or something?” At a closer look, he thought Corey had been crying.

“I’m fine,” he scowled. “Maybe I am a little sick.” He stuffed his phone in his pants pocket. “Can you believe it? Team 3! Isn’t that the biggest joke ever? Isn’t that totally stupid?”

Charlie wasn’t sure if he was asking or telling him.

“I was explaining to my dad how messed up the coaching is this year. He won’t listen.” Corey hung his head. “He’s right, though. I wasn’t focused at the practice. I thought I was in for sure because I was here last year. Dad says you gotta be intense every practice, every shift. You can’t take a day off, not at this level. But I smoked the skating drills, didn’t I? You saw me. And I scored on some one-on-ones. Why’d they put you on Team 1 and me on
Team 3. I mean, is that fair?”

Charlie shook his head.

“I’ll see ya back at the room,” Corey said, and stomped off.

Charlie watched him go, too freaked to even say goodbye. So much for cheering him up. He sure did speak to his dad a lot. He’d talked to him for almost an hour before going to sleep last night. The thought of being able to call his dad any time he wanted made him sad, so he forced it out of his mind and hurried to Team 1’s room. He opened the door slowly. Everyone else was already there. Coach Miller stood in front of a flipchart, holding a marker.

“Please take a binder and find a seat,” Miller said.

Charlie thought he sounded sort of annoyed.