Arctic Thunder (13 page)

Donnie shook his head. “It's almost like every second bounce has some kind of spin on it.”

Mike nodded. “Okay, let's try it again, Donnie.”

Donnie spread his legs once more. Holding the stick stiffly forward and to the side, he peered through the thick lenses of his glasses. Mike bounced the ball, and this time Donnie was ready for the funny hop. He quickly shifted his stick in front of the ball, and as the sphere hit the pocket, he turned it upward. The ball stayed in!

“Way to go!” Mike shouted.

Donnie smiled broadly. “Let's do that again, Mike.”

“Okay, Donnie, but that was beginner's luck. It's going to get harder, because I'm going to make you move for the ball, not just stand still.”

“Jeez, Mike! Take it easy. Do I look like a lacrosse player? Don't answer that. Just take it easy.”

Mike laughed. “Okay. Throw the ball back.”

Donnie looked at the ball in the pocket of his stick. Slowly, he lifted the stick, drew it back over his head, and made a throwing motion. Shock registered on his face when there was no sign of the ball leaving the stick. Mike doubled over and began to laugh again, pointing at Donnie. Bewildered, Donnie glanced from side to side. Turning, he spotted the ball bouncing on the floor directly behind him. “Let me guess,” he said. “It fell out of the stick when I had it back behind my head ready to shoot?”

“That would be absolutely correct, Mr.
Deebasteeeeyen
!”

Donnie walked over and tried to slide the head of the stick under the ball to scoop it up. It skittered away across the floor. Smiling sheepishly, he lumbered across the floor as fast as his heavy legs could carry him.

During the next hour, Mike laughed harder than he could remember doing in a long time. Donnie, for his part, laughed between all the huffing, puffing, and grunting as he tried to master basic lacrosse skills that Mike made look so easy. The rest of the time he gasped in amazement as Mike filled the net with shots behind his back, between his legs, and from weird angles around the gym.

The boys finally sat on the floor beside the net. Mike had worked up a bit of a sweat running after balls that Donnie couldn't get to. It felt good, and he smiled over at Donnie, who looked as if he were about to die. The big boy was stretched out on his back, belly heaving in the air. Sweat shone in his spiky bristle of black hair. His cheeks were a dark rosy red, and perspiration beaded his forehead above his glasses.

“You gonna live, Donnie?”

Donnie glared at Mike. “Oh, God, I don't think so. I think I might be having a heart attack or a stroke.”

Mike started to laugh and flopped on his back, lying flat on the floor. He stared at the banks of fluorescent lights on the ceiling for a moment. “You know, Donnie. I do feel better. Even though I can't play, just tossing the ball around makes me feel better. Do you think Mr. Koe would let us come here every day after school?”

“Every day?” Donnie croaked, concern filling his eyes.

“Well, not every day, but a few days a week. I mean, if the gym's busy, we can't, but it would be nice to come and toss the ball around. You started to get better near the end there, and soon enough, you'll be catching and throwing as well as me.”

Donnie lifted his head. “Do you really think so?”

“Not really. You're actually pretty terrible. But you'll get better.”

Donnie grimaced at Mike and playfully threw his stick. Mike rolled out of the way and chuckled.

Something caught Mike's attention at the door to the gym. Turning quickly, he spotted someone ducking out of sight as the door slowly closed. “Did you see who that was, Donnie?” Mike asked as he jumped to his feet.

Donnie raised his head off the floor. “What?”

Mike ran to the door and quickly jerked it open just in time to see someone disappear around the corner at the end of the hall. There was no mistaking who it was. Mike went back inside the gym and plunked down beside Donnie.

“Well?” Donnie asked, sitting up. “Was there really someone, or was it your imagination?”

“It was Gwen Thrasher,” Mike said quietly.

Donnie's eyes popped.

That night at supper Mike smiled and talked in a way he hadn't really done since moving to Inuvik. Then, just before he and his parents started dessert, he put down his fork and turned to his father. “Thanks, Dad. I had a lot of fun with Donnie at the gym today.”

Ben held up his hand in protest. “It was Donnie's idea. You didn't kill the big fellow, did you?”

“Almost but not quite. He's awful, but he's a lot of fun and a real nice guy.” Mike glanced at the clock above the fridge. “Oh, man, I almost forgot! It's Thursday. The Rush are playing at home to Philadelphia, and I bet I can pick it up on the radio. Good night, you guys.” Jumping up, Mike pecked his mother on the cheek and ran upstairs.

As soon he was in his bedroom, Mike carefully turned the radio on and scrolled through the channels, once again hitting broadcast after broadcast from around the world. Suddenly, he stopped. This was it — the broadcast from Rexall Place in Edmonton. The second quarter had already started, and the Rush were up 5–3. They were having a great season and were a sure thing to make the playoffs. Mike listened intently as the action moved back and forth between the two teams.
“Yaaaa!”
he cried, pumping his fist in the air as Jimmy Quinlan, his favourite player, took a pass in front of the net and popped another one in for the Rush.

Lying back on his pillow, he placed both hands under his head and listened intently as the Wings won the faceoff and turned the ball toward the Rush's end. They set up in the Rush's zone and moved the ball around the perimeter, attempting to set up a scoring opportunity. Mike pictured the interior of the arena and the crowd as it held its breath, hoping the Rush's defence would hold. The announcer screamed wildly as the Rush's goalie made an amazing save and kicked the ball out in spectacular fashion. Who would have ever guessed that he would enjoy listening to something on the radio more than watching a program on television downstairs? Soon, though, his eyes became heavy and closed.

Visions of the Rush floated through his mind, replaced by a beautiful set of stormy, almond-shaped eyes. The last vision he had before drifting off was of Donnie lying on the gym floor, stomach thrust into the air. Mike smiled in the dark and fell fast asleep.

CHAPTER 13

L
i fe seemed pretty good. Donnie and Mike were at the gym pretty much every day after school. Mike could drive the Polaris on his own now, and on days they didn't shoot the lacrosse ball around, the two friends drove out onto the river or had fun zipping up and around a steep hill near town called Old Baldy. The days were longer, the sun was stronger, and the air was warmer.

Victor took Mike and Donnie to his camp several times on weekends. The camp was about sixty-six kilometres northwest of Inuvik. Like Reindeer Station, it was about a two-hour trip each way by snowmobile, and they were lucky enough to stay overnight on a couple of occasions. The camp was at the confluence of the Axel Channel and the Mackenzie River on the delta side. Victor had an eight-metre-by-eight-metre house there with a loft. For heat there was a two-hundred-litre stove. Mike loved the feeling of waking up, warm and toasty in his sleeping bag, his breath visible in the chilly air of the house. Victor would start a fire in the stove, and the warm, smoky smell would rapidly spread throughout the cabin.

Victor explained to Mike how the connection between the land and the Inuvialuit and Gwich'in people was so strong and important. Most people had jobs in town now, but any time they could spend at camp or on the land were the happiest moments in their lives.

Mike was beginning to understand. Victor was one of the nicest people he knew. And when they went to the camp, he saw Victor change. His smile was bigger, he was more relaxed, and he seemed to have an understanding of everything around him. The strange thing was that Mike felt as if he was starting to experience the same things. Every time he went to the camp he experienced an inner peace or calm he couldn't explain. All his problems seemed a little smaller, every dream was a little closer, and every smile appeared a little warmer. Some of his happiest moments were talking with Victor and Donnie around the stove, or standing beside their snowmobiles when they took a break on the trip to or from Inuvik.

It had been a slow process, but the guys at school were treating him like one of the gang now, too. He still spent most of his time with Donnie, but he hung out a bit with Tommy, Mitchell, and Bobby Vittrekwa. It was spring, and the local hockey league had started playoffs. Most of the guys played, and Mike and Donnie went to the arena to watch.

One of the big semifinal games was on, and Mike and Donnie didn't want to miss it. Tyler Snowshoe and Tommy were on the same team. They were two of the best players in town, and everyone figured they were the favourites to win the league championship. In most small towns everybody turned out for sporting events, and Inuvik was no exception. The arena at the family centre was packed as Donnie and Mike waded in to find a place to stand and watch the game.

The action was fantastic, with lots of wide-open, end-to-end offence. Although Mike's first love was lacrosse, he was a decent hockey player and found himself thinking about the next season and getting on one of the local teams. He wouldn't be the best, but he could tell by the play on the ice that he would hold his own. In lacrosse he was all offence, but in hockey defence was his strength. With so many offensively strong players, he would likely prove valuable to one of the teams.

Tommy and Tyler's team won 8–5, and Donnie and Mike goofed around as the crowd cleared, waiting to see their buddies when they came out of the dressing room. Donnie grabbed Mike's toque and threatened to throw it. Mike shifted from side to side, attempting to block Donnie's throw. Donnie finally tossed the hat to the left, and Mike leaped without looking. With a thud he hit one of the people standing to the side and fell to the floor.

“Man, I'm sorry!” he said as he got to his feet.

“My buddy and I were just —” He stopped in mid sentence. For the second time in his brief existence in Inuvik, he was met with the cold stare of Joseph Kiktorak. The huge kid stepped in close and gave Mike a hard shove to the chest with both hands. Mike stumbled backward and collided with the concrete wall. Joseph followed in close and trapped him there, his left hand pinning Mike to the wall. All Mike could do was try to protect himself. He could see the scar on Joseph's left cheek standing out under the florescent light, and a hateful smirk twisted the corners of the boy's mouth.

“You think you're something else, don't you? You move into town and walk around like you own the place and everybody has to get out of your way. Well I'm not going to get out of your way.”

It was the first time Mike had heard Joseph speak. His voice was deep and mature for his age. Everything about him was mature for his age — his height, size, voice, and strength, from what Mike could feel through the hand pressing against his chest.

“No, I don't,” Mike squeaked. “It was an accident. Donnie threw my hat, and I was only trying to catch it. I —”

“Oh, so you have to blame butterball over there. You can't even handle your own problems like a man. Well, you and your fat friend can go to hell!”

Mike felt anger heat his face. He quickly pulled his right arm upward and batted Joseph's hand away from his chest. “His name's Donnie. And he isn't my friend. He's my best friend. I don't think I'm better than anyone else, and I can fight my own battles. You're big and you think you're tough. Maybe you are. And maybe you'll kick the crap out of me. But I'll fight you right here and now if you want.”

Joseph took a step back in surprise that quickly turned to resignation. “You're not worth it!” He glanced at Donnie and the rest of the crowd that had gathered around the two boys. “None of you are worth it!” He pushed past the few people who didn't get out of his way quickly enough and stomped off to the exit.

Donnie walked over to Mike as the rest of the crowd melted away.

“Man, what's wrong with that guy?” Mike asked. “It was an accident.”

“He's always mad, Mike. I'm surprised he was here watching the hockey. It likely put him in an even worse mood.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, Joseph's a pretty incredible hockey player. He's fast, has size, and is unbelievably smart on the ice. Scouts from down south came and watched him all the time. Everybody figured he was going to be drafted by the Western Hockey League for sure. Then he got caught smoking pot, got kicked out of the league, and wasn't allowed back. On top of that, he had to live with his granny when his mom moved to Cambridge Bay. It was too much at the same time, and he's been one bitter, mean dude ever since!”

“Jeez, that's pretty rough. I mean, it's bad he was smoking pot and everything, but I don't know what I'd do if I got kicked out of lacrosse.” Mike and Donnie fell silent, both realizing what Mike had said. “I guess in a way I have been kicked out of lacrosse, so I understand why he's mad. But —” he grinned at Donnie “— having good friends helps.”

CHAPTER 14

I
t wasn't the same as playing, but Mike found being able to hold a lacrosse stick and shoot a ball around did make him feel better. That and his trips and talks with Victor were the things he looked forward to the most. The excursions with Victor were becoming more frequent as the spring weather continued to improve and daylight lasted longer. His dad even went on a few trips when he had the time.

Hanging out with Donnie was fun, too. It made Mike smile every time he pictured Donnie's eyes bugging out about something. Donnie was still pretty terrible at lacrosse, but he was catching the ball more consistently. He always seemed to get in the way of the ball, even when he should be getting out of the way. Mike called him an Indian rubber magnet!