Roller Hockey Radicals (8 page)

“We could sell lemonade,” Jamal suggested.

“How about a car wash?” Kirby was startled to hear Killer’s voice in his ear. The big brute’s arm went around Kirby’s shoulder.
“We can do this,” Killer said, smiling at the E Street Skates.

Lainie smiled broadly. “Guys,” she said, “this is going to be a breeze!”

I
t wasn’t a breeze. Nothing like one. It was two weeks of backbreaking, sweaty work. But none of the Skates or the Bad Boys
complained. They could all see the money adding up, quarter by quarter, dollar by dollar.

Through the car wash, the yard sale, and the bake sale, Kirby met a lot of people in town.

Of course, there were some people who didn’t want to help out, either because they thought the paving should be paid for by
whoever wanted to use the lot or because they thought skaters were a nuisance. But most people gave at least a little to the
cause. They seemed to like the idea of young people trying to do something good for themselves and the town.

It was the hottest time of the summer, though, and that wound up being the hard part. Kirby would come home exhausted after
taking his turn working at the bake sale or yard sale or car wash. Sometimes he’d take a shower, but other times, he was too
tired even for that and just flopped down on his bed to rest.

By the end of the second week, they had been done it. Three thousand dollars in cash had been raised. When they all showed
up at the weekly town council meeting and handed the money over to the mayor, he was speechless — which was saying a lot for
Mayor Huggins.

After a few seconds, he managed to say, “I’m — I am — what a surprise! I congratulate all of you; you’ve done an — an outstanding
job!” Turning to his town council, he added, “I want this work done as soon as possible! When can we start?”

“Tomorrow,” one of the council members replied. “I’ll get a work crew on it first thing in the morning.”

“Splendid!” Mayor Huggins was beaming.
“Again, let me congratulate you all. You have done Valemont a great service. Your town thanks you, and I thank you.”

Three days later, the parking lot had been cleaned of all litter and freshly, beautifully paved. Instead of white lines for
parking spaces, the town had actually painted a hockey rink — complete with faceoff circles, goal creases, and a blue line
across the center!

Gathering for their first game on the new rink, the E Street Skates stood opposite the Bates Avenue Bad Boys.

“Hey, you!” Lainie yelled at one of the Bad Boys as the two teams prepared for the big game. “Don’t spit out your gum here.
You’re ruining our new rink! What’s wrong with you?”

“Oh. Sorry,” the player said, and picked it up, not even giving Lainie an argument.

Boy, Kirby thought, Lainie sure is tough. When she gives orders, people listen. He wished he was more like that.

Marty was there with his parents, but he wasn’t in uniform, and he wasn’t playing. His shoulder had healed — mostly. But the
doctor and Marty’s parents were not ready to let him take a chance of hurting it again so soon.

Marty had told the Skates he’d be ready in about another week. For now, he could coach them, but they were going to have to
beat the Bad Boys without him in the lineup.

That wasn’t going to be easy, either. The Bad Boys were really charged up. Not only had they failed to beat the Skates last
time, but the Skates had gotten more signatures and raised more money than they had.

The Skates tested the new surface for a while, getting used to the feel of the pavement. Then Marty brought them into a pregame
huddle. “Okay, guys. They’re probably going to come out playing rough and trying to scare us. But we’ve got a big audience
today,” he said, indicating the crowd that was congregated outside the rink’s boundaries. “So if the Bad Boys do anything
more than touch you, be sure to scream like you’re in extreme agony, and I bet the adults will make them stop. Other than
that, Trevor, you need to keep an eye out for Kirby. They’re expecting you to take all the shots. So if they double-team you,
Kirby will be free.”

“Okay,” Trevor said, frowning. “But don’t worry, I’ll be able to get the shots off.”

“Maybe,” Marty said. “Nick, you have to stay back the whole time. No more two-on-one rushes for them, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Okay, then, let’s go. Put your hands in here.”

They did their “Go… Skates!” cheer, then went out to face off with the Bad Boys.

For the first five minutes or so, the game stayed scoreless. Trevor was hogging the puck as usual. Even when Kirby’s man came
over to double-team him, Trevor didn’t try to pass to Kirby. Instead, he fired off a quick shot at the goal, which the goalie
easily handled.

On the other end, the defense was playing better.
Jamal had new skates, and both he and Nick were having an easier time skating on the new, smoother surface.

Finally Spike took a shot that ricocheted off Jamal’s stick and straight past Lainie into the goal. That broke the scoreless
tie, and it meant the Skates would have to come from behind.

Kirby decided that Trevor wasn’t ever going to pass it to him. In which case, Kirby wasn’t going to wait around for the pass
to come. Instead, when his man left to double-team Trevor on the other side of the forward zone, Kirby headed straight for
the goal crease and stood there, waiting for Trevor’s inevitable shot.

When the shot caromed off the goalie’s blocking pad, Kirby was ready. All he had to do was guide the puck back into the net!
As the Bad Boys’ goalie stood in shock, Kirby jumped so high in the air that he felt like he was flying. The Skates all mobbed
him, slapping him on the back and on the helmet and yelling their heads off.

It was Kirby’s second goal as an E Street Skate.
And he’d hardly even touched the puck!

“Way to go, Kirby!” he heard his mother shouting from the sideline. “Whoo-oo!”

“All right!” Marty said, giving him a high five. In a low voice he added, “Listen, Kirby, keep going to the goal, because
Trevor’s never going to change.”

“Right,” Kirby said, flashing a huge grin.

“Let’s see if we can catch them off guard again.” Marty slapped him on the back and sent him over to the faceoff circle.

The Bad Boys scored once more, right before halftime, on an awesome slap shot from Killer. Lainie flinched in spite of herself,
and the puck went in, just over her shoulder.

“Don’t feel bad, Lainie,” Kirby told her at halftime as they cooled down by pouring water over their heads. “That goal would
have gone by anybody.”

“I should have had it,” Lainie insisted. She slammed her stick on the ground.

In the second half, the Skates rallied. Trevor,
angry at being pushed around by the Bad Boys’ defensemen, whipped a slap shot by their goalie. That tied the game, and Trevor
loved every minute of it. This was his chance to gloat, and he took it.

“In your face!” he said, pointing at the defenders, who nearly lost it when they heard that. They glared at Trevor with pure
fury in their eyes.

“Shut up, punk!” Killer shouted, and Spike had to hold him back.

“Do it in the game,” Kirby overheard him say in Killer’s ear. “Wait for your moment.”

The game grew tense. Everyone knew that a fight could start at any moment. Then, very late in the game, one of the Bad Boy
defenders saw that Trevor was looking the other way. He quickly gave him a sharp elbow in the back.

“Ow!” Trevor yelled. “Hey, come on! That’s a penalty!”

But there was no referee to call penalties. It had always been understood that if anyone did anything outrageous, they were
penalized by
common agreement. But this time, the Bad Boy defender just shook his head and went back to work.

Trevor was really fuming now. In spite of Marty’s warning to take it easy, he couldn’t resist getting even. Next time he got
the puck, he tried skating right through the defense and got into it with his shoulder first.

“That’s a definite penalty!” Killer yelled, staring straight at Marty.

Marty nodded, disgusted. “You’re off, Trevor.”

“What!?” Trevor was beside himself.

“You checked him. You’re off.”

“But he elbowed me first!”

“Nobody saw it,” Marty said. “Sorry.”

“Man,” Trevor steamed. “We need a ref around here.”

Kirby agreed. “Maybe one of the parents could do it,” he suggested. But no one agreed with him. A ref would need to be impartial,
they all said, and on skates besides.

Trevor skated to the penalty box, fighting back
angry tears, while the Bad Boys hooted and cheered.

This was the chance Bates Avenue had been waiting for. Without Trevor to fear, they sent one of their defensemen down the
rink with the forwards in a power play, forcing Kirby to play defense, too.

With the puck in the Skates’ zone, the Bad Boys’ goalie came out of the game and was replaced with yet another forward. This
gave the Bad Boys a two-player advantage, and the Skates just couldn’t stop the avalanche of shots. One of them finally beat
Lainie, and the Bad Boys led again, 3-2.

“One minute left!” Marty shouted. “Let’s get it back!” The Skates quickly managed to force a faceoff in the Bad Boys’ zone.
With half a minute left, Lainie shed her goalie gear, grabbed a forward’s stick, and skated back on the ice as an attacker,
leaving the Skates’ goal mouth empty. It was a big risk, but it had to be taken.

Unfortunately Lainie sent a pass back to Nick
that went over his stick. The puck rolled on its edge right down the rink and into the Skates’ empty goal — just as the final
whistle blew! Final score: Bates Avenue 4, E Street 2.

“We win!” the Bad Boys all bellowed, slamming bodies with each other. “Yeah! Yeah! World champs! All right!”

“What a bunch of jerks,” Kirby heard Marty say under his breath.

“We would never have lost if you were playing,” Trevor retorted bitterly.

“Yeah,” Marty said, “well, we’ll get our chance next week. And I’ll be playing. I promise you that. This thing isn’t over.
Now that we’ve got our new rink, it’s going to be a long, tough season. We’ll see who’s on top when it’s over.”

Kirby was excited, in spite of the fact that they’d lost. He couldn’t wait for the next game the following Saturday. Now that
they had the new rink to practice on, he could skate with the team every day!

T
he next day, the Skates met at the rink for their regular practice. The two teams had worked out a schedule. But instead of
playing, the Skates devoted most of the time to talking things over.

“I should be able to play by next weekend,” Marty told them. “But if we’re going to play the Bad Boys anymore, we’d better
find a referee.”

“You said it!” Trevor agreed hotly. “I’m not taking any more of that stuff from them. If they try anything, I’ll —”

“Great, that’s all we need is a big fight,” Lainie chimed in. “Then the mayor will step in and close us down. Good idea, Trevor
— not.”

“Lainie’s right,” Jamal said. “But where are we going to find a ref?”

“Maybe some high school kids would do it,” Nick suggested. “If we pay them a little.”

“Where are we going to get the money?” Jamal asked.

“We could sell lemonade and stuff at our games,” Kirby suggested. “If we get enough people there, it would pay for a ref.”

“We could put up posters and sell tickets, too,” Nick suggested. “But with so few kids around, I don’t know…”

“We’ll never get enough people,” Trevor said disconsolately. “All the kids around here are either in the game or off at camp
for the summer.”

“You know,” Kirby said, “I can’t help thinking there must be other kids somewhere — maybe not around here, but in other towns
nearby. Maybe they’re into hockey, too. Maybe they’d like to come see us play.”

“Yeah,” Lainie said. “Maybe their parents will drive them all the way here just to get rid of them for a couple hours!”

They all laughed, but Kirby was serious. “No, I
mean it,” he said. “I’ll bet there are other hockey teams out there somewhere. Wouldn’t it be great to play against a normal
team for once, instead of getting beat up all the time by Killer and Spike and those guys?”

“Hey! I’ve got an idea!” Jamal suddenly said. “I’ve got an E-mail buddy over in Bakersville who plays roller hockey on a team.
Now that we’ve got a rink, maybe they would come and watch us play.”

“Why would they do that?” Nick asked. “Just to sit there and cheer?”

“We could let them play the winners!” Jamal said triumphantly. “Two games, twice as much lemonade sold!”

“That’s a fantastic idea!” Marty said excitedly. “Hey, maybe we’ll even get a league going. Then we wouldn’t get stuck playing
the Bad Boys every time.”

“What do you mean?” Trevor said, still smarting. “I
want
to play them! I want to stick it to them good!”

“As long as there’s a referee, Trev,” Marty cautioned. “Remember, if we get into a fight, the town might take away our privileges
here.”

“I know, I know,” Trevor muttered. “So where are we gonna find a ref?”

“Let’s put up a want ad!” Kirby suggested. “Reilly’s Sporting Goods has a bulletin board, and there’s one at the bank, too!”

No sooner said than done. The ads were up by Tuesday, and by Thursday, they had their referee — Clayton Brown, who’d be a
junior at the high school in the fall and was spending the summer working at Reilly’s.

There was only one problem — he wasn’t available this coming Saturday. “I’ve got my cousin’s wedding in Woodford,” he explained.
“You guys still want me for the next weekend?”

“Sure!” they all said. They didn’t have much choice. Clayton was the only person who’d responded to their ad.

Meanwhile, Jamal’s E-mail buddy, Chris
Cosmillo, and his team from Bakersville, agreed to come watch them play on Saturday and to play the winner afterward.

All they had to do now was make the lemonade!

When Saturday came, the rink was crowded. Besides the two teams and their families, the team from Bakersville had also shown
up, wearing fluorescent orange uniforms that said
Rocky Raccoons
in black lettering.