Arctic Thunder (2 page)

“Yaa!”
Spencer yelled in his face.

“What a goal!” Ryan shouted.

Realizing he had scored, Mike pumped both his arms in the air, the adrenaline rush washing over him as he yelled at the rafters.
“Yaaaaaaaa!”

The boys ran in a group toward the bench where they were mobbed by their teammates. Smiling, Ben caught Mike's attention and nodded in approval.

Once more the referee blew his whistle and pointed at the Red Deer bench. “Timeout, Chiefs!” Eleven seconds left in the game.

“In, in, in!” Ben ordered his players, motioning once more for them to gather around. “Okay, here we go. There's eleven seconds left. This is where we shut them down. Ryan, I want you to stay on and win this one. Spencer, you stay out. Taylor with Spence. Brady and Cayln. If we win the draw, be sure to get over half and rag that ball. If they get the ball, man on man. Stick close and keep them out of our house. Are we ready?”

“You bet!” the boys shouted.

“Again, guys, put it in and do it,” Ben told them.
“Rams!”

The boys put their gloves together. “One, two, three,
Rams
!”

Mike moved to the end of the bench. He was still pumped from his goal but ready to burst inside, wanting the next eleven seconds to be done. Brady Reid was a small player but incredibly fast and a tenacious checker. Taylor Fraser was a big boy and an incredible all-round player. With his size and ability to check, it made sense to have him on the floor. They had to win this.

Spencer, Cayln, Brady, Taylor, and Ryan walked to their positions on the floor, determination in their faces.

“Kirk!” Ben shouted at Kirk Miles, the Rams' goalie. “Keep your head in the game. Only eleven seconds left.” He pointed at the clock.

Tall and big for his age, Kirk looked like a real-life version of the Michelin Man in his goalie equipment. He nodded at Ben and whacked his stick against his goalie pads as he backed into the net. Nervously, he shifted from side to side, rapidly hitting each post with his stick.

The Chiefs' net was empty. Six attackers on the floor. They lined up with four players in the St. Albert end, one man in the faceoff circle, and only one man halfway back toward their own goal. With eleven seconds remaining, they had nothing to lose and had to pull out all the stops.

Spencer, Taylor, and Brady spaced themselves out in the St. Albert zone. Ryan lined up in the faceoff circle, with Cayln poised on the Chiefs' side of the ball. Once again Ryan knelt with the Chiefs' point man as the referee placed the ball between the heads of their sticks. Slowly backing away, the referee held his hand high as he checked both ends to make sure the teams were ready.

The noise was unbelievable. The game was at the Bill Hunter Arena in Edmonton, but both teams had huge followings in the stands. The building was filled to capacity, and each and every fan was standing, clapping and stomping as they shouted with all their might.

The players on each bench held their sticks over the boards and banged the aluminum shafts against the painted wood. Mike's heart was in his mouth as he joined his teammates, smacking his stick and shouting until all he could do was croak. He felt two hands tightly grip his shoulders from behind near his neck until it almost hurt. Glancing back, he found his father lost in the moment, staring out at the floor, oblivious to the fact he was about to strangle his son. Barely audible above the noise, the referee blew his whistle as he dropped his arm.

Ryan and the Chiefs' point man leaned on their sticks hard, struggling to draw the ball from the circle to direct it to their waiting teammates. With one last push, Ryan pulled the ball under the head of his stick and whipped it once again back and between his feet. This time, however, a Chiefs player was waiting. Eight seconds left.

Scooping the ball quickly off the floor, the Chiefs player immediately threw a long pass directly to his teammate in the corner of the Rams' zone. Six seconds left. Cayln and Ryan were racing to the Rams' zone to join their teammates as the Chief in the corner passed the ball out to a shooter waiting high in the zone. Four seconds. The shooter passed the ball deep to the opposite corner of the Rams' zone where once more a Chiefs player deftly caught the ball. Briefly hesitating, he spotted the shooter who had just passed the ball racing to the front of the net. With one step, he threw the ball — a perfect pass! As the ball sank into the webbing of the shooter's stick, he released the shot in an effortless motion. The ball zipped toward the top corner of the Rams' net. Caught off guard at the other side of the net, Kirk threw himself across but only caught part of the ball with his shoulder. It skipped off, popped into the crossbar, and with a thud hit the Plexiglas behind the net as the buzzer sounded to end the game.

The Rams' bench exploded. Sticks, gloves, and helmets flew in all directions as the players charged from the bench. With a whoop, Kirk threw off his gloves and mask and braced himself for the mob bearing down on him. In one crazy cluster, the team launched themselves onto their goalie until they fell in a giddy heap in front of the net. Slightly behind the other players, with a scream, Mike threw himself on top of the pile. The St. Albert fans clapped and yelled loudly from the stands as the Red Deer faithful politely applauded, heartbroken but proud of their players at the same time.

In a happy daze, Ben shook the hand of Barry Butz, the team's other coach and Cayln's father. Then they walked toward the delirious gang of players celebrating in front of their net. Spencer emerged from the mob and charged the coaches, spraying them with a water bottle as they put their hands up to protect themselves. Barry lunged and grabbed Spencer, while Ben tore the water bottle out of the boy's hands and spurted him in the face. Then, tossing the bottle aside, Ben turned to his players and wrapped his arms around those closest to him. When the boys quieted down, they turned to their coaches but continued to mess up one another's sweaty hair.

Ben grinned. “That was one of the most incredible games I've seen in my life. You guys deserve this win and the championship. You're Alberta champs.”

“Yaaaaaaaay!”
the boys shouted together, holding their index fingers high in the air.

“I'm proud of every one of you guys,” Ben continued. “Now let's shake hands with Red Deer and get that trophy.”

“Yaaaaaaaaa!”
the boys yelled louder, then turned and ran to centre floor where the dejected Chiefs waited.

The Rams lined up and slowly moved forward, shaking hands with the Red Deer players. The odd player gave an opponent a tap on the head or a friendly slap on the shoulder, signs of respect for a battle well fought. As they finished, all the players on both teams lined up facing one another, waiting for the presentations that would end the tournament.

Moving to centre floor, a league official holding a microphone called for everyone's attention. Two other officials emerged through a side gate, holding the biggest trophy Mike had ever seen. He couldn't stop smiling, and once more bumped Ryan, who was standing beside him, and rubbed him hard on top of the head.

“Ladies and gentlemen, could I please have your attention?” The official paused as the crowd quieted down for the presentations. “Wasn't that one of the most incredible games you've ever seen?” The crowd yelled and clapped loudly. Smiling and holding up his hand, the official continued. “Games like this one show why lacrosse is the fastest growing sport in North America. And games like this one should make us all proud of our Alberta lacrosse players. Please join me in giving a talented bunch of boys from Red Deer who just wouldn't quit a huge round of applause.”

The crowd cheered and was joined by the Rams on the floor. Despite the fact that they often thought they hated the Chiefs, the Rams knew that Red Deer had played its heart out.

“I would now ask the Chiefs' players to step forward to receive their silver medals as each player's name is called.” Mike and the rest of the Rams stood politely but impatiently, applauding as each of their opponents came forward and received his medal. “And now for the Alberta bantam lacrosse champions, the St. Albert Rams!”

The crowd went wild as the boys smiled from ear to ear and stepped forward to receive their gold medals. Some held their medal high in the air as they returned to the line of their teammates, while a couple jokingly bit down on the metal as if checking to see if the gold was real.

“I now ask,” the official continued, “for Captains Ryan Domino, Mike Watson, and Spencer Lorenz to come forward to accept the Alberta Bantam Lacrosse Championship Trophy.”

The Rams went crazy as Ryan, Mike, and Spencer walked to centre floor. The three boys held the trophy with league officials as pictures were taken. Then, grasping the trophy in both hands, Ryan hoisted it high above his head and cried, “We're number one!”

As soon as Ryan said that, the rest of the Rams rushed to centre floor, joining their captains. Each player took a turn gripping the trophy as the team slowly made its way around the arena. As they passed the trophy around, the players pumped it above their heads, almost dropping it more than once. Returning to centre floor, the Rams handed the trophy over to their coaches and grouped together for team pictures taken by excited parents who had entered the playing area. Mike, who was standing at the rear of the gathering, closed his eyes and tipped back his head. With a smile he thrust both his hands into the air, his index fingers raised as the sign for number one. This was unbelievable, he thought. And with most of the boys only thirteen now, next year could only be better. Mike himself would be fourteen.

CHAPTER 2

L
ast summer's championship seemed like a dream. What was happening now was more like a nightmare. Mike sat on his bed, his head in his hands, barely able to stop the tears welling in his eyes. Ryan, Cayln, and Spencer were leaning against the wall near the door to Mike's bedroom. No one really knew what to say.

“Mike, I don't … I mean …” Ryan stopped and shrugged as he helplessly looked at Cayln and Spencer.

“It sucks!” Cayln said forcefully.

Everyone, including Mike, looked up at Cayln, who was usually the quietest guy on the team. The anger in his voice had gotten everyone's attention. Cayln was forty-five kilograms soaking wet and normally silent and serious. He let his athleticism do the talking for him on the lacrosse floor, and when he did speak, it was to the point and softly. To hear such emotion in his voice and see the anger in his pale blue eyes surprised everyone.

“Well, it does,” Cayln continued. “How can your dad do this? He has no right. I mean, can't you or your mom say something? It makes no sense. You can't just tell your family one day, ‘Hey, guys, guess what? We're moving to the North Pole.' It really sucks!”

Mike shook his head. “It's not like that. Dad was transferred. Everybody in the RCMP gets transferred sooner or later.”

“Yeah, but this busts apart our whole team,” Spencer said. “We lose our coach. We lose our top scorer. We just lose. Cayln's right. The whole thing sucks.” Spencer was one of the leaders on the team and wasn't afraid to speak his mind. He was big, and when he spoke or hit someone, it was with authority.

“Can't he tell his boss he won't go or something?” Ryan asked, wrinkling his nose. “I mean, they can't force him to go, can they?” Ryan was the joker in the crowd, and sometimes all Mike had to do was see the expression on his friend's freckled face to start laughing. But not today.

“I don't know …” Mike mumbled. “I guess it means he gets a promotion if we move. If we don't move, he can stay here for a while, but then we still might have to move and he won't get promoted, or something like that.”

“Do they even play lacrosse in Nunavuk or Inukituk or … whatever the place is you're going?” Spencer asked, exasperation apparent in his voice.

“It's Inuvik and it's in the Northwest Territories, Spencer,” Mike said. “I don't know if they play lacrosse. I don't even know if they have a rink. I don't know anything about the place except it's somewhere inside the Arctic Circle and makes winter in St. Albert seem like summer.”

Spencer shook his head. “Jeez, that does suck. Your dad wouldn't go there unless there was lacrosse, though, right? I mean, he loves lacrosse as much as us. I can't see him doing that.”

Ryan groaned. “Maybe, since we won provincials, he wants to win a seal-hunting championship or something now.”

Mike glanced up, and despite his mood, smiled. Ryan grinned, too, while Spencer began to chuckle. Then Cayln started to laugh, as well.

Still chuckling, Mike shook his head. “You know what really sucks? You guys won't be there. I won't know anybody. I've never had to move before. I won't know anybody and I'll likely have to try out all over again to make a team up there. I think the people up there are mostly First Nations. They're likely great at lacrosse, of course. They invented the game. Maybe I'll make their team and we'll come down here and kick your butts.”

Ryan rolled his eyes. “Oh, yeah, right!”

“So do you guys leave as soon as summer holidays start?” Cayln asked.

“That's the other crappy part,” Mike said. “I don't even get to finish school here. We move in early March.”

“You can't be serious!” Spencer cried.

“That's just in two weeks!” Ryan added.

Mike gazed at the floor sadly. “I couldn't believe it, either. My mom's already started to pack. If you didn't notice, the garage is full of boxes. Get this. Apparently, there are two rivers you have to cross if you drive to Inuvik. In the winter the rivers are covered in ice. They freeze up and people drive over them. In the summer there are ferries. If we don't move now, then I guess once school is over is when the ice is melting on the rivers and they can't cross them for a while. That means they couldn't get trucks across with our stuff until all the ice is gone and the ferries are in the water. So we move now and they get the trucks over the ice with our stuff.”