Ice Time (16 page)

“Mr. Floyd, I … I guess maybe I could try. I’m not trying to be difficult. It’s just—”

“Get out,” Floyd bellowed.

Rocket looked around the room. He could tell that his teammates were angry. They were on his side. But there was nothing they could do. Floyd and Barker controlled their careers.

“You heard the man,” Barker said, nodding toward the door.

Rocket lifted his chin. He wasn’t going to give Barker the pleasure of seeing him break down. Rocket walked out in a daze.

What had just happened?

Rocket leaned against the wall and stared at the concession stand. The crowd let out a roar. He didn’t bother to go into the rink to check it out. He was honestly more interested in the smell of the french fries right now.

He’d forced himself to watch the first period, then he couldn’t take it and headed to the lobby. Last time he’d checked, there was about ten minutes left in the game. Racers were behind by one. Rory had knocked in a rebound to give them the early lead, but then they gave up two power-play goals in the second.

Rocket wasn’t even sure why he was hanging around. It seemed likely Floyd was going to release him, whether he stayed or not.

It felt like a lifetime had passed since he’d left the dressing room. At first, he’d felt numb with shock, but that had quickly changed to anger and then, just as quickly, to fear. What would he do? He’d spent most of his life dreaming of playing in the NHL.

But so had thousands of boys.

Maybe it was time to accept that he wasn’t special. He was just a kid who’d had a good time playing hockey, and now it looked like that journey was over. No point feeling sorry for himself. Bad luck to get a concussion off the ice, but it happened.

He would go home and get a job — any job — to help out his family. Then Maddy could quit working and focus on school. She was super-smart, and she had what it took to be a great doctor. Rocket had to stop thinking about himself. He wasn’t going to get a big, fat NHL contract.

A familiar high-pitched voice interrupted his thoughts. “Ray-Ray, all we do is hang out in this smelly rink.”

Stella was walking through the lobby, Floyd beside her, his hands in his pockets, head down.

“Do I look like I like eating chicken wings and nachos?” she continued. “I don’t think so. Hockey is the worst.”

“Yeah, well, it helps pay for your fancy clothes and fancy dinners,” Floyd said.

“I gave up my singing career for this! You told me we would be living in a big city; instead we’re stuck in Pinewood.”

“My dad can’t live forever,” Floyd snapped. “When I inherit—” He looked up, saw Rocket standing by the wall and stopped.

“Aren’t you on the team?” Stella asked Rocket. “How come you’re not playing? Are you hurt?”

“I have a concussion,” Rocket said.

Floyd didn’t react.

“There you are, Bryan,” Blywood said, hurrying over. “Glad to find you. I was looking in the stands for you. I thought you’d be watching. The game’s still close, but it’s been tough with only three centres …”

Rocket just looked at him.

“Anyway, what I wanted to talk to you about …” Blywood stopped again. “I mean, what I wanted to say, was that, as you know hockey is a business. A very competitive one. And a hockey team can never stop trying to get better. Isn’t that right, Raymond?”

“Yeah,” Floyd said flatly. Rocket wished they’d all go away. He wanted those french fries.

“Yes, so, we were offered something tonight: a trade,” Blywood said. “Actually, I’ve been talking to a bunch of teams for a few weeks, and things have gone back and forth, like they often do. We’re talking to teams all the time, Bryan, to be honest. Anyway, a certain team, the Giants, wanted certain players that we were … uncomfortable giving up. Then, just tonight, actually about fifteen minutes ago, we struck a deal. Have to clear it with Coach Landry and the GM …”

“The deal is done,” Floyd said harshly. “I’ll handle them.”

“Yes, in any event—” Blywood said.

“Just tell him, already,” Floyd said.

“Right. I’ll get to the point,” Blywood continued. “Like I said, Bryan, hockey is a business—”

“You’re the slowest talker in the world!” Floyd burst out. “We traded you to the Tennison Giants.”

“Traded who?” Stella said.

“Me,” Rocket said.

“Why?” she said.

“We got an unbelievable deal, that’s why,” Floyd said. “We’re getting Steve Bannister. First, they asked for Rory Colbert, then Beauclair and a draft pick. I got involved and made the deal. We traded this kid, Strauss and Turner Rogers for Bannister. Total steal. I got a solid centre to back up C.C. and Beauclair, and all it cost me was some fourth liners.”

“Your daughter will be upset that you traded Turner,” Stella said. She turned to Rocket. “She dated Turner last season. Pretty sweet on him, too. But they broke up. She took it kind of hard, poor girl. I told her Turner is too young, and he’s not ready to settle down. But she fell in love, and—”

“That’s over with. She’s better off without him. Kid can’t be trusted,” Floyd said. “Now, let’s drop it. No one cares.”

Stella smoothed her hair with her hand. “I’m sorry you got traded,” she said to Rocket. “You seem like a nice boy.”

The buzzer sounded.

“I should go check the score,” Blywood said, heading back to the rink.

“Good luck with your new team,” Stella said to Rocket.

“Thanks,” he said.

“You head on up to the lounge, Stella,” Floyd said. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

Once Stella was out of earshot, Floyd grasped Rocket by the arm. “When you get to the Giants tell them you feel sick and don’t know what’s wrong. Got it? Not a word about the concussion. Say you don’t know how it happened — or better yet, tell them you got hit in practice yesterday, and you’re just feeling dizzy now. Tell them you were off because you hurt your knee. You were about to come back, but then this head thing happened. Okay? Don’t ruin this trade by telling them when you got the concussion. I’m warning you. You don’t want to mess with me. Keep your mouth shut, and I leave you alone. You kill the trade, and I’ll destroy you.”

“Hockey’s a business,” Rocket said dryly.

“That’s right. And if the Giants get wind that you were already hurt, they can veto the trade. I’m guessing you don’t want that, either?”

“I would agree with that,” Rocket said.

“Then be smart and keep quiet. The story is you never told us anything. You thought it would go away. They’ll scream and yell, but they can’t prove it if we stick to the story. You’ll be a Giant — and we’ll have the player we want. Deal?” Floyd held his hand out.

Rocket reluctantly shook it. It made him sick to his stomach to touch Floyd’s hand, but this wasn’t the time to make a scene.

“Coordinate with Kirk and Nadav about getting your equipment shipped over and all that stuff. I have no idea how it works.” Floyd offered a shrug. “Well … good luck.”

He spun on his heel and headed to the stairs.

Rocket closed his eyes, let his shoulders slump and took a few breaths to let it sink in.

New beginnings or the end of the line? The Giants were one of the worst teams in the league.

And what if they refused the trade because of the concussion? Would they believe him? He had to make them.

The fans were streaming out the exits. He pushed against the wall.

“It’s Rockwood!” Crawford said, waving a Racers foam finger in the air. His friends were right behind him.

“Hey, guys. Tough game,” Rocket said.

“We got to get you back on the ice, bro,” Chaz said.

“That’ll have to wait a while,” Rocket said.

“The injury still bugging ya?” Crawford said.

“It is, but it’s not that. I’ve been traded. To the Tennison Giants. Me, Strauss and Rogers for a guy named Steve Bannister.”

Their smiles faded.

“Brutal, bro,” Chaz said.

Griff slowly wrapped his scarf around his neck. Rino pouted.

“Well, we wish you good luck,” Crawford said. “Hope the injury clears up soon.”

“Thanks, guys. You’re truly awesome fans,” Rocket said. He shook each of their hands.

They left a sombre group, which suddenly made Rocket feel sad.

A trade! That meant he wouldn’t see Rory — or Ritchie and his family. It would be a painful goodbye, especially to Rafa and Leona. He’d really grown attached to them.

He set off to the dressing room. Barker and Floyd could take a hike. He wasn’t leaving without saying goodbye to the boys — and Kaufman and Nadav.

Nadav stood outside the door. “Rocket, I just heard. They made the deal during the game, in the third period.”

“Blywood told me hockey’s a business, so that makes it all good,” Rocket joked.

Nadav thumbed at the door. “Let me see if it’s okay for you to go in. Barker’s giving the boys his
opinion
about the game.”

Rocket could hear Barker shouting.

“Apparently, he’s not happy,” Nadav said.

As Nadav opened the door to go in, Rocket could hear Barker ranting. “You guys better get it through your thick skulls that …”

A minute later, Nadav came back out, his face ashen. “He’s going to be awhile. And he said you should just go. Straussy’s already gone, and they pulled Rogers out of the game. He just left, too.”

Rocket shook Nadav’s hand. “You’re too good a guy to be working for them.”

Nadav shrugged. “Trainer jobs with a pro team are hard to find. I need the experience.”

“You and me both,” Rocket said with a laugh.

“Where are
you
going?” Rocket heard Barker yell as the door opened again.

Rory and C.C. came out.

“Wanted to say goodbye,” C.C. said. “You’ll do good with the Giants. I know it. I like your game.”

He and Rocket shook hands.

“Brutal,” Rory said. “Nothing wrong with a fresh start, though. We’ll talk.”

“Thanks. And say goodbye to Melissa and Angela.”

“Will do.” Rory gave Rocket a bear hug. “A trade is nothing, part of the game. Keep focused and you’ll make it.”

“Not sure it’s worth it,” Rocket said.

The door opened again.

“This is ridiculous!” Floyd said.

The rest of the guys were coming out.

Rocket shook all their hands.

“We get traded around, we fight, we get cut, but in the end we’re hockey players first and foremost,” Goldsy said. “Coaches, owners, GMs, they forget that.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to play here too long,” Rocket said. “I have tons of respect for you guys, and it was an honour to play with some real pros. Good luck the rest of the way. I’ll see you when Tennison plays Pinewood in the finals.”

“Least you can do is let us win,” C.C. joked.

“I hear the Giants are getting this awesome new centre, so I doubt it,” Rocket said.

“Okay, boys,” C.C. said. “Let’s get back in there. We need to absorb more hockey wisdom.”

They filed back in, their faces stern. Rocket could see Barker and Floyd standing in the middle of the room. He wasn’t going to miss them.

“Did you guys enjoy your little vacation?” Floyd said. “Am I the only one who gets that we lost tonight?”

The door closed.

“Take care of yourself,” Nadav said to Rocket. “Give that head time to heal. Don’t let them intimidate you into coming back too soon.”

“I just hope they let me stay,” Rocket said. “Anyway, thanks for all your help, Nadav. I bet we’ll meet again.”

“You’ll get me box seats when you’re in the NHL,” Nadav said.

“You won’t need them. You’ll be an NHL trainer by then.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Nadav said warmly, and they shook hands again.

As he walked to the lobby, Rocket pulled out his phone and texted his mom and Maddy about the trade.

Maddy texted back almost immediately.
Sorry. At least it’s a new start?

André must have been with her because he sent a text, too:
Got rid of Barker. Huge move. Go Giants!

Rocket texted Megan next.

She sent back ten crying emojis and added,
Don’t give up. You’ll do great on the new team. Giants can totally crush racers — seems like a good trade.
:)

His mom’s text came next.
Sorry, honey. Hopefully it will be a better team for you. Call me when you get to Tennison. Luv u.

He put his phone in his pocket. All of them expected him to report to the Giants, same with all the guys on the team and the management.

Rocket was less sure. So many conflicting thoughts ran through his head.

He was worried about his injury, but he was also tired of moving and leaving everyone behind. And he was tired of being treated like a piece of meat — he’d been cut and traded so many times, and no one seemed to care what he wanted.

But then again, he didn’t want to give up. He’d worked so hard and sacrificed so much. And the people he loved most in the world didn’t want him to quit, either. So maybe he wasn’t being selfish by giving it one more try.

That’s when he made a promise to himself. This was it. First, he had to get healthy — completely. Second, he was going to register for some courses immediately. Third, he had to become a starter for the Tennison Giants and get on their top line by next season — and if that didn’t happen, then he’d pull the plug and get on with his life.

If his mom and Maddy needed him to work, he’d do that. If he could go to university first, all the better.

At last, plan B was set. There would be no going back on it.

Leona wiped her eyes.

“I’ll see you again soon,” Rocket told her. “And I’ll definitely remember your birthday. It’s in November, right?”

“It’s in April!” she shrieked. “You’re such a forgetter head.”

“I’ll remember now,” Rocket said, laughing. “I promise.” He gave her a hug.

“Do you have your lunch?” Mariana said.

“I have it. Thanks again for breakfast. I still feel bad about you guys waking up so early.”

“Don’t forget your sticks,” Rafa said, holding them up.

“I won’t.”

“Call us when you get to Tennison,” Ritchie said.

“I will.”

“And remember the sandwich — and I put an apple in your bag, too,” Mariana said.