Winter Sports
Chapter 1
"Good save," Victoria Hayley yelled as her friend, Sylvia Kingma, deflected the puck away from the net into the mounds of snow on the side. Victoria, Tori to her friends, grabbed the rebound and headed for the other side of the improvised rink. Sean and Tyson, the Paterski twins who lived next door to her, were right on her heels, poking at the puck, getting in her way. She had to do some fancy manoeuvring to keep hold of the little rubber disk. She saw Sylvia streak past, blonde hair flying. Suddenly Tori braked hard, twisted around, and shot the puck to her friend. Sylvia caught the pass. Before the twins had a chance to rush up to defend their goal, she had fired off a shot on their empty net.
"Goal!" the two girls yelled.
"We're even! We're even!" twelve-year-old Tori shouted with glee. She looked at the older boys triumphantly while high-fiving Sylvia. The four of them were having a friendly game of two-on-two on the frozen lake in front of Tori's home during the Christmas holidays.
"Aw, we just let that one go," Sean said dismissively.
"You did not," Tori argued.
"Did so. We know how girls get when they're losing."
"Look who's talking," Tori shot back. "I know you, buddy. You'd never give a goal away, not even to your own mother."
"Oh, all right. Have it your way," Sean laughed. He loved getting a rise out of Tori.
"Time to quit, guys," Tyson said, skating up with the puck. "It's getting too dark to see properly."
Sylvia quickly checked her watch. "You're right," she said. "I didn't realize it was so late. I've got to fly home, Tori."
"All right. Home it is. Thanks for the game, guys. See you around."
"Right, see you."
The boys picked up their net and skated away along the shoreline toward their house. Tori picked up her net and followed Sylvia toward the shore. She stored the net in the boathouse, then looked back across the lake. Amazing how quickly it got dark once the sun had set. Already it was hard to make out where their patch of cleared ice was. Vaguely she saw the humps of snow bordering it, but she wasn't sure if she was really seeing it or if it was just her imagination. Lights flickered from distant shores. Oh, she loved this time of year. Once the lake was frozen over, she loved being able to lace up her skates whenever she wanted to and just skate away.
"Are you coming?" Sylvia called. She was waiting impatiently halfway up the path toward the house.
"Coming," Tori answered and rushed up the hill awkwardly on her skates. From the snowy lawn outside, the girls stepped onto the cork flooring in the garage. Years earlier, Tori's dad had installed a bench along one side of the garage with a strip of the special floor alongside. "No sense getting dull blades from the cement," he'd said. Sitting on the bench, the girls quickly removed their skates and shin pads.
"Do you need a ride home?" Tori asked. Sylvia was slipping on her boots and bundling up her stuff.
"No, I can run. I'll be okay. Bye." And with a quick wave, Sylvia was gone.
Tori wiped down the blades of her new skates. Her dad had bought them for her at the end of the last hockey season. She'd always worn her brothers' castoffs before. Her first brand new pairshe pampered them like babies. With care she hung them on a hook. Her stick joined a dozen others in a barrel at the end of the bench. Then she turned off the lights, closed the door, and went toward the house.
Tori's home, an old cottage that her dad had renovated over the years, stood on the shores of Lake Couchiching, a finger of water off Lake Simcoe, pointing north. Once considered the back of beyond, their area was now part of Orillia. It was a wonderful place to live. The Hayleys had the joys of living beside the lake in summer with swimming, fishing, and all kinds of boating activities. Winter brought a whole new roster of fun. As soon as the lake froze over, there was sledding, skating, hockey, ice fishing, and even ice sailing, although Tori herself had never done that. Perhaps this winter her brothers would let her try.
The house was dark. Tori grimaced. So her mom still wasn't back from work. Probably working overtime again. She had been putting in long hours, even taking on extra shifts, to make those extra bucks, ever since Tori's dad had lost his job last October. Even this morning, half sick, she had gone off to work. "I can't stay away today," she had argued when Pete, one of Tori's older brothers, had suggested she call in sick. "They gave me Christmas off. They're counting on me."
"Mom, you're almost dead on your feet," he had protested.
"By the time I'm at work I'll be okay. I can't afford to stay home."
"We'll catch some fresh fish for supper tonight," Tori's dad promised. "Dinner will be waiting on the table when you come home."
But here it was close to dinnertime, and no sign of her dad or her brothers. No sign of fish either. Should she get meat out for a batch of spaghetti?
Just as Tori opened the door of the fre
I caught an edge as I was about to pivot around a very large tree. I stumbled, righted myself and dug in hard on the back edge of my board, trying to turn. I wasn't really thinking about anything more than not hitting that tree.
The tree near Dead Man's Drop.
Chapter 1
It all started with Mickey Tanaka. If it hadn't been for Mickey, I would have spent the whole season as an afternoon rink rat: a guy who hangs around the park, shovels the ice, and gets to play hockey when there aren't enough "real players" to make up teams. With Mickey, it was all different. It was fast and furious. It was my first year as a Metro Cat.
It was the year I learned a lot about my parents, and they learned a lot about me. In the spring they had separated, just after my twelfth birthday, and by Christmas things were looking a lot different. It was also the year I learned to control my mouth. If it hadn't been for Mickey, I'd still be sounding off at people and paying the price. That winter, when the price for smart remarks went through the ceiling, I had to learn that it just wasn't worth it. Because of Mickey and the Metro Cats, I learned to control my temper.
It began on a cold Sunday morning. My mother picked me up at my dad's place on Saturday night. I was getting pretty tired of being shuffled back and forth between Dad's apartment downtown and the new house we were renting in the east end of Toronto. I don't know why they had to move so far away from each other. When I stayed at my dad's place, he'd bring me to school at eight o'clock. In the spring it wouldn't be bad, but in the winter it gets pretty cold hanging around the school yard waiting for the bell. Anyway, I only had to do that on Thursdays and Fridays. On Saturday night, my mom came to get me and I'd get to sleep in my own bed.
That first week of December, the city started flooding the rink in the park. They were flooding it on Saturday night when my mom and I drove past, but when I got there in the morning, it was covered by ten centimetres of fresh snow. I had my skates on and a light plastic snow shovel under my arm. Whizzing end to end with the snow shovel was fun, but it was still a lot of work to get all the white stuff off the ice.
I was about halfway done when a girl from my class came by. She didn't say anything, she just stood watching me zipping from end to end, pushing the snow along to the edge of the rink and packing it up against the edge of the ice. I figured that when they flooded the rink next time, there would be a hard crust around the edge and it would act as an end board.
I didn't really know Michelle Tanaka. I knew her name and I knew that she was smart in class, but that was all. I didn't really know many of the kids well. I'd only been at Sir Henry Pellatt Public School since we moved here in late October, and I hadn't made many friends. I had half the rink cleared when Michelle came over and spoke to me.
"Hey, you're doing a pretty good job. Can you use a stick as well as you move that shovel?" She had a sort of husky voice, like a boy's.
"Yeah, well, I'm not exactly Sidney Crosby," I said. I wondered if she knew who Sidney Crosby was. "You're Michelle, right?" I asked.
"Well, I'm not exactly Michelle Pfeiffer
" she said. I wondered who Michelle Pfeiffer was. "My friends call me Mickey. What about you? Do you like being called Lester or Les?"
"Les. I hate Lester!" I was used to being teased about my name. Who would name a kid Lester Lewchuck?
"It'd be worse if you were called Michelle!" She was laughing. She had big teeth, like they were too big for the rest of her. She had short black hair, a small, sort of flat nose, and in her parka and big boots, she looked like an arctic explorer.
"I'm a goalie," she said, walking through the snow and stepping over the bank. "I'll help you clear if you want, and I'll bring my gear." She checked out the surface of the ice with her boot.
"Sure," I said, "but forget the shovel. I'll be done before you get back." I figured it was all right. She was a girl, but she seemed OK. Besides, a goalie is a goalie.
Mickey went home for her equipment, and I picked up the pace on the shoveling. I was nearly done when I heard them come up behind me.
"Hey," said a familiar voice. "Some sucker has done the hard work for us." It was Lenny Smith.
If you look up Neanderthal Man in the encyclopedia, you can see a picture of Lenny Smith. The Neanderthal Man has a large forehead and a very big mouth, but he has a very small brain. That's Lenny. Big and stupid. Everybody was afraid of him.
Roddy is Lenny's kid brother. He's more like Peking Man. He's not so ugly, and he's a little smarter. With his glasses, he almost looks intelligent. He's not exactly rocket scientist materialthis is his second year in grade sevenbut he's closer to human than ape.
I blew into my hands, traded the shovel for my hockey stick, and threw a puck out onto the ice. I could see them coming across the park, laughing and throwing snowballs at each other. Their dog was snuffling around by the swings, doing his business. I circled the rink, pushing the puck along in front of me, trying not to lose it under my skates and look like an idiot. The Smiths thought everyone was an i
