The Ice Chips and the Invisible Puck Page 2

  Neither Swift nor Lucas could figure out where it was coming from.

  “There aren’t . . . aliens in the bushes here, are there?” Blades asked, completely serious. “It’s coming from that backyard—between those two houses.”

  “Shhhh,” said Swift, before quietly creeping between the houses so she could peer through a hedge.

  The twin backyards were pitch black, or so it seemed, and around the blackness, someone had strung up some kind of thick, dark netting. Looking up, Swift could see only the odd star in the sky, until the clouds slowly allowed the moon to break through and a soft white light fell over the large surface that covered the two backyards.

  A rink!

  And there was someone on it!

  The scraping sound was skates, and it got louder when the person on the ice turned and dug in, skating harder.

  Scrape . . .

  Scrape . . .

  Scrape, scrape . . .

  SCRAPE . . .

  “Why’s that kid out there in the middle of the night?” Blades asked, this time quietly, as she and Lucas snuck up beside Swift. They’d pushed their way through the hedge and were now all breathing foggy air through the netting at the edge of the rink. “There’s not enough light out yet—how can that kid even see the puck?”

  “She can’t,” said Swift, her heart suddenly beating faster.

  Chapter 3

  Riverton, A Few Days Earlier

  It was December in Riverton. The days had grown shorter, but even with the deep snow and the icicles on the roof edges, Lucas, Swift, and Ekamjeet Singh—“Edge”—had been happy to walk in the dark to their after-school practice. This was, after all, turning out to be a great year. The Ice Chips, now completely settled back into their old Riverton Community Arena, had just moved into first place in the league!

  “Yeah! Do it again!” Tianna “Bond” Foster shouted as Blades took another tour around the rink, pulled her stick in tight, and did a loose axel jump—in hockey skates!—before scooping up a puck.

  Both Bond and Lars Larsson cheered, but Swift had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. This was the Ice Chips’ last practice before their next game against the Riverton Stars, and she was getting tired of watching her sister show off.

  That isn’t even hockey!

  Coach Small had asked the Ice Chips to practise their shots for a few minutes while he talked to Quiet Dave the Iceman, the rink’s maintenance guy, and of course he hadn’t told them how to take those shots. Lucas, the Chips’ biggest hockey nut, was taking the assignment seriously, but Bond and Blades were just fooling around.

  “How does your sister not trip on her stick?” Maurice Boudreau, the big defenceman known as “Slapper,” asked Swift as he grabbed a puck from behind the net. The Chips’ goalie just shrugged and banged her stick on the ice, letting her teammates know she was ready for more shots.

  This next game against the Stars, their arch rivals and the only other competitive novice team in town, was a big one. The two teams had already met four times in the season, and each had won two games. The Chips were still four points ahead of the Stars—and Swift, Edge, and Lucas knew they’d have to work hard to keep it that way.

  “C’mon, let’s go! Keep sending ’em over!” Swift called out.

  Lucas fired a wrist shot that slipped in over her shoulder—her weak spot. Then Edge scooped up a puck and fired it, but she blocked it easily.

  “Ugh! Why are my shots so hoser-ific this week?” Edge shouted before hooking the bounce and looping around again.

  Another shot. Another miss.

  “You’ll get it,” said Lucas, as he went for a slapshot. He’d had the same problem at the beginning of the season; he knew how Edge was feeling.

  Swift and Lucas had been out practising behind Riverton P.—what they called Riverton Public School—all week. Coach Small—called “Mr. Small” when he was their teacher in class—had got together with some of the parents and created a little outdoor rink there so the kids could skate whenever they wanted. Thanks to that extra ice time, Swift was feeling better than ever about her glove hand, and Lucas almost had his beauty shot—the one where he knocked the puck out of the air like Sidney Crosby and slammed it into the back of the net—down completely. In practice, at least.

  But Edge hadn’t come out at all.

  Now, seeing their friend at this Chips’ practice, Swift thought she knew why: Edge had lost his touch. He was still leading the league in scoring, but that could easily change with the next game. Jared Blitz, the Stars’ nasty centre, was behind Edge by only a single point, followed closely by his sister, Beatrice. If Edge couldn’t find the net, one of the Blitz twins might take the lead.

  He’s in a slump, she thought, not daring to say it out loud.

  Swift needed her team to win—this year, more than ever. Especially now that Beatrice Blitz, the Stars’ cheating, pushing, bullying forward, had decided to make the Chips’ goalie her new target.

  At the beginning of the season, Beatrice had set her sights on Lucas, even sabotaging his skates, but now she was going after Swift—every single chance she got. Swift hated Beatrice and hated playing against her, but she’d do it if that was the only way her team could make the playoffs—and maybe even win the trophy this year.

  Of course, no one could love that trophy as much as Lucas. He was the one who had to kiss the Chips’ display case each time he walked into the arena, as part of his superstitious ritual. There wasn’t even a trophy in the case—just an old faded photograph of some long-ago Ice Chips celebrating their one and only trophy win. Lucas liked to imagine he was one of the two ten-year-old boys holding the trophy high above their heads in the photo; Swift just wanted to play the game that won it.

  “Okay, that’s enough!” Coach Small called to his players as he stepped up to the boards, followed by Quiet Dave and Abigail Ward, who was the mayor of Riverton, but also Dave’s daughter.

  Blades was sailing by with her leg out behind her in an arabesque, while Lars, giggling, swooped in and surprised Swift by going five-hole. Swift was so annoyed that she tossed her stick onto the ice.

  “Everyone gets a last shot,” said Coach Small. “Then we’ll change it up.” He banged twice on the boards and gave the Chips’ goalie a stern look.

  Sheepishly, Swift picked up her stick and moved back into her crease.

  “Bond, Blades . . . and Swift,” the coach added, “when everyone’s done, you three then come over to the boards for a chat.”

  Swift, now sure she was in trouble, stayed in net while Dylan Chung—called “Mouth Guard” by his teammates because he didn’t have a filter between his brain and his tongue—and Sebastián Strong—the human calculator known as “Crunch”—took their shots.

  Lucas went for another slapshot—this time, even Mayor Ward applauded—and then last was Edge, who was still struggling. He went for a wrister, but it bounced off, just like the one before it.

  No one said anything as Bond, Blades, and Swift finally skated over to the boards with their heads down.

  “Swift was in net the whole time. She was working,” Lucas protested from where he was gathering pucks. The Chips’ centre knew that when someone got in trouble, Coach Small sometimes had that player sit out for an entire game. He also knew that the Ice Chips needed their best goalie.

  The coach looked up at Lucas for a second, but then turned back to the three players who now stood in front of him.

  “It seems that Beatrice Blitz and her father—well, Coach Blitz—have come to the mayor with a proposal,” he started slowly. Swift scanned his face, but he wasn’t giving any clue as to what that proposal could be. “And . . . uh, the mayor wants to know how you girls feel about it.”

  How we feel about it? Swift was confused. Does this mean we’re not in trouble?

  “So far, it’s just an idea,” began Mayor Ward, pushing her fluffy auburn bangs to the side and adjusting the pair of glasses she had in her pocket. “Next month, Hopedale will be holding i
ts annual novice girls’ tournament.”

  Girls’ tournament?! Bond and Blades turned to Swift immediately. There was no girls’ team in Riverton—even the Chips’ rookies knew that.

  “And . . . well,” the mayor continued, “we were hoping you girls might win us the cup!”

  * * *

  The next night, for a game at the gaudy new Blitz Sports Complex, Coach Small was wearing earplugs.

  The arena was almost as loud as it had been on opening night. Hard rock music screamed from the loudspeakers and lights flashed from the Jumbotron as the Stars made their way onto the ice. No surprise that Coach Blitz—the richest and most full-of-himself man in Riverton—was grinning at his players from the bench.

  He loves it when his Stars play in his arena, Lucas thought as he watched the coach tip his baseball cap to his twins, Jared and Beatrice, who were taking their positions on the Stars’ side.

  Coach Small waited until the sound died down before he sent his Ice Chips out. He told them, as he always did, just to try their best and remember to “keep it simple.”

  “Don’t try anything too complicated out there,” he reminded them with a smile as they came through the chute. “Keep your eyes on the puck and remember to KISS—keep it simple, stupid.”

  “We know, KISS!!” the Chips shouted back at him, giggling and rolling their eyes.

  “KIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISSSSSSS!”

  Mouth Guard, as usual, made a kissy fish face, nearly tripping Lucas as they moved through the door in the boards.

  The Chips stepped onto the ice to a smattering of cheers from their families and fans, and some hearty boos from the Stars’ fans. They were now used to this rowdy reception at their opponents’ rink. In a way, they even liked it. It fired them up. It felt like the NHL. And what could be sweeter than a win on the Stars’ home ice?

  Of course, today that might be a long shot.

  Edge, their best scorer, was still unsure of himself—both Swift and Lucas could tell. At practice, he’d been panicking with the puck, hurrying his shots and passes, not thinking. He couldn’t seem to relax. If he looked up, he lost the puck. If he didn’t look up, he made bad blind passes and giveaways. The last thing he was doing was keeping it simple.

  “Hey, if this doesn’t work out, I’ll just become an announcer—do the play-by-play for the games,” Edge had joked to Lucas and Crunch in the car on the way to the rink. “Check it out: ‘He shoots and he never scores!!’”

  Coach Small, who was driving, had told Edge that he had to be patient, that slumps are something everyone goes through. He’d even told him a story about one of the old Ottawa Senators, Bruce Gardiner, who once managed to break out of a long scoring slump by taking his stick into the washroom and trying to flush it down the toilet.

  “Next game,” Coach Small said with a chuckle, “half the team was in there flushing their sticks.”

  Lucas laughed and decided he’d probably try it, but he knew Edge wouldn’t. Edge didn’t believe in magic or superstitions.

  Just to be safe, their coach was now starting Lucas on the line with Mouth Guard and Lars Larsson, and had moved Edge to the second line with Blades and Alex Stepanov—the little Russian-speaking kid called “Dynamo.”

  Swift was surprised to see Lucas and Lars on the same line again, but ever since they’d teamed up together at the grand opening of the Blitz arena, she knew Lucas felt that he and Lars had real chemistry on the ice. They were no longer enemies; they were teammates. And Coach Small—he felt that, too.

  Coach Blitz was of course starting his children’s line: Jared at centre ice, Beatrice on one wing, and a rough-and-tumble kid named Darryl on the other. They had proved to be the best line in the district this year—something Beatrice made sure to tell Swift every time she saw her.

  Beatrice snarled as Swift moved into her crease. The Chips’ goalie banged her stick against her pads as she always did to say she was ready—even though she knew she was going to have trouble keeping her head in the game.

  Swift couldn’t stop thinking about yesterday’s conversation with the mayor.

  Hopedale, a bigger town, had asked if Riverton would like to send a novice girls’ team over to compete in their annual day-long tournament for girls. The problem was always the same: Riverton had no girls’ team to send. But this year, Coach Blitz and Beatrice had come up with the idea of an “all-star team” made up of the best girls playing in Riverton, taken from both the competitive and the house league teams. There weren’t all that many girls playing, but together there would be enough.

  They’d form a one-time team, just for this competition.

  Swift was thinking about this—the absolute worst idea she’d ever heard—when the puck dropped.

  Soon, the Stars were ahead on a sweet goal by Jared Blitz. He’d done a toe drag around Bond and snapped a quick shot high over Swift’s shoulder. Less than two minutes later, the Ice Chips tied it up when Lucas took a gamble on Lars reading his mind and cranked a lead pass off the boards. Lars, in full flight, caught up to the puck for a clear breakaway. He came in on the Stars’ goaltender, went forehand to backhand, and roofed a goal in off the crossbar.

  The two teams exchanged goals three times after that, heading into the final five minutes of stop time in a 4–4 tie.

  But then Bond made a mistake on a clearing shot. She meant to send it high off the glass, but accidentally shot it too high, so the puck sailed up into the stands. KISS—she’d forgotten it. The referee’s whistle blew and his right arm swept out from his side: delay of game, two-minute penalty.

  That gave the Stars a power play at the worst possible moment. Coach Blitz and his assistant bumped fists and laughed—they couldn’t believe their luck. The Chips would be playing short-handed during Bond’s penalty, with almost no chance to win the game. The Stars would have five shooters to the Ice Chips’ four, and with that advantage, they’d have several chances to win.

  Coach Small sent out his four best checkers: Dynamo, Lucas, Edge, and Slapper. Swift set herself in goal, rapping her stick hard against her posts—her “friends”—and then coming far out into her crease in a crouch position, glove hand out and ready to snare any puck that dared threaten her net.

  Beatrice Blitz won the faceoff over Edge and got the puck back to Jared so he could play the point on the power play with his hard shot.

  But instead, Jared dumped the puck into the corner so Lucas would have to get it away from two big Stars players. As Lucas and those two big kids collided together against the boards, Jared slyly looped around, making his way toward the puck again. That’s when Lucas felt the butt end of the mean centre’s stick jab sharply into his gut, taking his breath away. Gasping, he kept working as Jared skated away again. Now, the two big players were definitely too much for him. The Stars came out of the corner cycling the puck—dropping it back when threatened and then back again—until they reached Beatrice Blitz, who then joined the cycle.

  Lucas knew he should be there to check her, but he couldn’t catch his breath. It felt like someone had lit a blowtorch in his lungs.

  Carrying the puck, Beatrice drove hard to the net. She fired a shot, and Swift gloved the black disc . . . but then dropped it.

  The Chips’ goalie fell on her knees, pads covering the puck.

  But Beatrice kept coming. She bowled Swift over, spinning her, legs splaying, off to the side.

  Lucas saw the puck lying there like it was the only thing on the empty ice. He knew he was closest and should leap on it, but he couldn’t move. He still couldn’t catch his breath.

  Jared Blitz, following his sister in, quickly tapped the puck into the open side of the net.

  The Riverton Stars had won.

  Chapter 4

  Swift’s face was red, and everyone in the dressing room could see that she was angry with herself. No one said a word. There was nothing to say. The Stars’ win had closed the gap between the two teams, and they were now tied for the league lead. Beatrice Blitz, with two goals and
three assists, had moved ahead of her brother in scoring, but she’d also moved ahead of Edge by a point. The league’s meanest player now had the scoring lead.

  Lucas was still trying to breathe normally—he felt like his rib cage had been crushed—when Coach Small came in to talk to them.

  “Good effort, kids,” said the coach. “Excellent effort. It was just a fluke thing that gave them that power play at a bad time. Hockey happens. There’s nothing you can do about it.”

  Coach Small looked at Bond, who seemed upset, and winked.

  “Oh, and Swift, Blades, Bond—let’s have another quick word before you leave, okay?”

  The three Ice Chips looked at each other. Bond and Blades gave each other high-fives—they loved this idea of a Riverton girls’ team—but Swift couldn’t wipe the scowl from her face.

  * * *

  “NO WAY!” said Swift. “Absolutely no way in the world. Never. EVER!”

  Lucas had never seen Swift so upset.

  He and the rest of the boys on the Ice Chips team had waited for the three girls to finish their post-game meeting with Coach Small. Mouth Guard figured it was about Bond’s shooting the puck over the glass and taking a penalty that had cost them the game. He shut his mouth when Lucas pointed out that the players asked to stay back were the same three who had been asked to play for the Hopedale Novice Girls’ Cup.

  When they came out, Blades and Bond both seemed excited. But not Swift.

  “They’re saying they need me on the team,” Swift told the boys. “They said I have to play with Coach Blitz’s horrible spoiled daughter—sorry, Lars—or else they won’t have a goalie!”

  Even though Lars was the Blitz twins’ cousin, he knew that what Swift was saying about Beatrice wasn’t wrong.

  “And of course, whatever rich little Beatrice wants, she gets. Right?” Swift moaned, kicking her hockey bag so hard that her goalie stick slid off it and clattered to the ground.