Penalty Shot Page 4

  As they wrestled into their gear and laced up their skates, one last thought occurred to Jeff. “Do you think Coach’ll sub in the alternates tomorrow, too? I’d sure like to see how Sam Metcalf does during a game.”

  “Better be careful what you wish for, pal. If Sam comes in, you may find yourself warming the bench!” Kevin teased.

  Jeff laughed. “Good point! Forget I said anything!”

  The two skated onto the ice for the warm-up. Before the practice began, Coach Wallace gathered the team together for a pep talk. “Okay, Blades, listen up! Today we practice long and hard. Tonight you sleep long and hard. Tomorrow you eat a good breakfast and lunch and show up here raring to go! I’ll want to see fire in your eyes, sparks flying from your skates, and every player looking sharp and ready! Be here by two so we can get in a warm-up before the game starts. Any questions?”

  A loud chorus of no’s rang across the rink.

  “Well then, what are you waiting for?” Coach Wallace roared. “Get on that ice and give me three lines!”

  The boys clambered on and took their positions. Jeff could see that everyone was gung ho to do his best. He felt pride in his team and in himself for being a part of it.

  Best of all, it didn’t seem as though any of the others had heard of his tutoring sessions.

  Guess Bucky decided not to say anything, he thought. And that’s just fine with me!

  12

  Bright and early Saturday morning, Jeff checked his duffel bag to make sure he had all his hockey equipment. He had an appointment with Beth and planned to go to the game immediately afterward.

  It had been Beth’s suggestion that he try writing his make-up composition before the game. “That way, when you win, you’ll be able to celebrate instead of having to do this assignment,” she said. It made sense to Jeff, so, after a hearty breakfast of pancakes and sausage, he hurried over to the Ledbetter house, ready to get the job done before he headed for the rink.

  Beth showed him into the study. Jeff reached into his duffel for his notebook, then slapped his hand to his head.

  “I forgot to bring paper!” he moaned. Beth laughed.

  “What kind of tutor would I be if I didn’t have paper?” she asked. She pulled out her binder and opened it. Jeff noticed again how expensive it looked. Beth caught his look.

  “My dad got it for me,” she explained, showing him her initials embossed on the front. “All three of us Ledbetter kids have one.”

  Jeff saw for the first time that the binder was a two-ring. Beth pulled the rings apart and handed him some notebook paper. She told him to start writing his make-up composition and said that she would check on him in half an hour.

  Left to himself, Jeff’s mind went blank. He just couldn’t think of a thing to write. Instead, he fiddled with the two big rings on Beth’s notebook. He pulled them open and snapped them shut, open and shut.

  This is ridiculous, he thought. Coming up with a subject should be the easy part, right?

  Yeah, right.

  He got up and shook out his arms and legs. He could see heavy gray clouds drifting by the study window. As he stared out, he saw Kevin come down the street leading Ranger on a long leash. The black dog frolicked about, barking and sniffing everything in sight. Kevin grinned at Ranger and ruffled his fur.

  That’s it! Jeff suddenly thought. I’ll write about Kevin and Ranger!

  He made it through the first paragraph. Then he ran out of things to say. After sitting for five minutes, staring at the half-empty paper, he suddenly thought of a better topic. He tore the paper in half, tossed it into the trash can, and started again.

  This time, he wrote about Eric Stone’s letter and how it had helped him decide to try working with a tutor.

  When Beth knocked softly on the door, he was ready.

  Beth settled herself in an armchair. “So, what did you decide to write about?” she asked.

  “Well, I started writing about my friend Kevin and his dog, Ranger. I’m not a big fan of dogs, but I want to try to like this one since it belongs to my best friend. But I didn’t get very far, so I decided to write about my favorite hockey player and a letter I got from him.”

  Just then, the doorbell rang. Beth moved to answer it, but before she had risen from the chair, Bucky walked by the study door.

  “You guys keep working, I’ll get that,” he said.

  Beth looked startled, then puzzled. “I thought he was up in his room,” she said. “Oh, well, he must have been on his way to the kitchen or something. Anyway, mind if I take a look at the paper?”

  Jeff handed it over. “You’ve written a lot there,” she observed. “Now let’s see how you’ve done.”

  Beth’s usual way of correcting his papers was to circle his errors in red. Then they worked together to figure out how to correct them.

  But when she handed him back his paper this time, he saw there were only red check marks in the margins on the side of the paper.

  “I’ve indicated the lines where the errors are,” she explained. “Now it’s up to you to find them and fix them.”

  “But I’m the one who made the mistakes in the first place!” Jeff said. “How do I find them?”

  “You’ve been training yourself all week to construct sentences that make sense. Be a detective and sniff out the clues!”

  Jeff focused his attention on the sheet of paper and stared at the first check mark. Then his eyes slid across the line to the sentence. After a moment, his eyes lit up.

  “I see it!” he said triumphantly. Before long, he had found the rest of the mistakes as well. He and Beth talked them over and she agreed that he had identified them all.

  “Now all that’s left is for you to copy the composition over on a clean sheet of paper and hand it in on Monday,” Beth said with a smile.

  Jeff nodded. He was still nervous about his writing, but he accepted a fresh piece of paper from her special binder. Slowly, carefully, he rewrote the composition. When he was done, Beth pronounced it perfect. “But I don’t think you have time to listen to my praises. Don’t you have to be somewhere?”

  Jeff looked at the clock. It was 1:40! “Yikes! I’m supposed to be at warm-ups in twenty minutes!” He gathered up the two papers, shoved them into his duffel bag, and ran for the door. Just before he left, he called out, “Thanks, Beth!”

  She grinned and replied, “Just make sure that paper gets to Ms. Collins in one piece!”

  13

  Jeff ran all the way to the rink. He was panting like a dog on a hot afternoon when he burst into the locker room.

  “Whoa, where’s the fire?” Kevin asked jokingly.

  “I lost track of time!” Jeff said, gasping for breath. A moment later, Hayes Ledbetter came hurrying in.

  “Hayes! I thought you’d come over with Bucky. I would have waited for you,” Jeff said.

  “That’s okay,” Hayes said. “Bucky came early. I had some things I had to do. Guess I lost track of time.”

  “Sure sign of a real professional,” a voice behind them said. It was Bucky. “What were you doing, playing computer games?”

  “It was a — an extra-credit writing exercise,” Hayes mumbled. Bucky rolled his eyes and snorted.

  Jeff felt sorry for Hayes and wished his brother would lay off him for one minute. But he didn’t say anything because he knew it was none of his business.

  He headed for the ice the minute he was suited up. Several other players, including members of the other team, were already warming up. Jeff waved hello to Chad, Shep, and Sam, then concentrated on preparing himself for the game. When the whistle blew, he was raring to go.

  Coach Wallace called them all together. “Okay, Blades, this may not be for the record, but think of how great you’ll feel to have a real win under your belts! So go out there and do your stuff!”

  The boys cheered. The starting lineup took their positions. Jeff glanced back at Kevin, who gave him an excited thumbs-up.

  Bucky and the center for the Clover Rov
ers readied themselves for the face-off. When the referee dropped the puck, they scrambled frantically. Bucky came out the winner.

  He slammed a pass to Chad almost immediately. Chad controlled it and headed down the ice. A defenseman was on him like glue. With a swift flick of the wrist, Chad passed the puck back to Bucky.

  Jeff followed the action closely, looking for a chance to help out. When Bucky received the pass, Jeff faked out his defense-man and skated free.

  “C’mon, Bucky, give it up! I’m in the clear!” he muttered to himself. As if he had heard him, Bucky sent the puck skimming over the ice toward his right wing.

  Jeff reached the puck, but a second later he was slammed into the boards by an out-of-control Rover defenseman. No foul was called. With a grunt, he pushed himself off. The puck skittered away from him. But to his relief, he saw Kevin snatch it up.

  Kevin skated slowly toward the middle, apparently looking to pass to either Bucky or Chad. But Jeff knew better. Kevin was preparing for a play they had perfected in the past week. All the Blades knew what was coming, but Jeff counted on the Rovers’ being fooled.

  They were. When Kevin turned quickly and passed the puck to Jeff, Jeff was practically standing by himself. He skated with fast, slashing moves right toward the goal. But at the last second, he slipped behind the net and ricocheted the puck against the boards.

  Chad was already on his way to meet it. Like a well-oiled machine, his stick found the puck. All he had to do was backhand it into the goal. And that’s just what he did.

  Cheers roared up from the Blades’ bench and the few fans who had come out to watch the non-league event. Jeff beamed, knowing that the scorekeeper was putting a nice fat check mark down in the assist column beside his name.

  Back at center ice, Bucky and the Rover center were ready for the next face-off. This time, the Rover won. He made a beeline pass to his right wing. The wing treated it like a hot potato, wasting no time in sending it right on back.

  Shep was too quick for him, however. He sneaked in and stole the puck in mid-pass. One swift move later and Chad had control. But not for long — he tapped the puck just a little too hard and sent it skimming beyond his reach. A Rover defenseman picked it up and gave it a hearty whack.

  It had all happened so quickly, the rest of the Rovers were caught off guard. The puck whizzed by them despite their desperate lunges to stop it. Kevin nabbed it and moved behind the Blades’ net. When he emerged on the opposite side, Shep was waiting. Kevin passed off, and Shep kept the puck going, this time sending it to Bucky.

  Bucky stickhandled the disk straight down the center of the ice. As Jeff skated to stay parallel with him, he knew his efforts were wasted. Bucky was going to drive in and shoot the puck right down the goalie’s throat if he could.

  He could. Bucky pulled up short with an ice-flying stop and, with a move so quick it was difficult to follow, launched the puck into the air. It soared past the goalie’s outstretched glove and into the net for the second goal of the game.

  Coach Wallace took advantage of the break in action to put in some subs. Chad and Jeff both came out, as did Shep. With a slight twinge of jealousy, Jeff noted that Hayes had replaced him at right wing. He told himself not to be greedy, however, and grabbed a seat next to Sam Metcalf.

  Sam offered him a cup of water. Jeff drank it gratefully. Then he watched the game and shouted encouragement with the rest of the bench.

  “Sure hope I get out there sometime today,” Sam said at one point.

  Jeff felt sorry for him. He knew only too well what it was like to want to play. Of course, Sam stood a very good chance of seeing ice time — unlike Jeff the year before.

  Well, that’s not going to happen this year, not with that composition I’ve got sitting in my duffel bag, he thought with determination.

  Sam did get a chance to play later in the game. Coach put him in at right wing after he took Hayes out. Sam impressed everybody on the team with his sharp passes, speedy skating, and aggressive play. He even assisted on the Blades’ third goal of the day.

  “Looks like you and I are neck and neck for assists!” he commented when Jeff came in to replace him. Jeff grinned back.

  “We’ll see if I can’t change that!” he called.

  But three goals were all the Blades would score that game. It was enough to give them the win. And as Coach Wallace had predicted, even though it wasn’t for the record, it felt good.

  The mood in the locker room was jubilant. Jeff and some of the other boys even sang victory songs while they showered.

  Towel around his waist and still singing, Jeff left the shower area to get dressed. When he turned the corner to his row of lockers, he stopped abruptly. His locker was wide open and a figure was crouched in front of it. Jeff could see that the person’s hand was on the zipper of his duffel bag.

  “Hey!” Jeff yelped.

  The figure spun around. It was Sam Metcalf!

  “What are you doing?” Jeff asked, his surprise clearly showing on his face.

  Sam looked puzzled. “What do you mean? I’m getting my stuff together!”

  “You’re getting my stuff together, you mean,” Jeff corrected him. “That’s my locker and my duffel bag!”

  Sam let go of the duffel as if it were on fire. Then he peered up at the number on the locker door.

  “Number 207, whoops,” he said. “I thought this was number 107.” He hurried over to the next row and came back carrying a duffel. Except for the fact that the handles on Jeff’s bag were gold while Sam’s were white, the two bags were identical. “See why I got confused?”

  Jeff laughed. “Yeah, no problem,” he said. “But I think I’ll count my socks just to make sure there are still two of them in here. Can’t be too careful, you know!”

  Sam laughed, too, then disappeared back into his own row of lockers. Jeff heard him humming the victory song.

  14

  Jeff loafed around for the rest of the weekend, enjoying the fact that his homework was already done. When Monday morning came, he set off for school with a light heart. His composition was tucked neatly in his notebook. For once, he was looking forward to English class.

  But Ms. Collins wasn’t in class that day. A short, gray-haired man with wire-rimmed glasses was sitting behind her desk when Jeff arrived.

  “Ms. Collins is away at a teachers’ conference. I’m substituting for the week,” explained the stranger.

  “Oh, I have this composition to turn in,” said Jeff. “Maybe I could leave it on her desk?”

  “Fine,” said the substitute. “I’ll add a little note to document when it was turned in. Just put it down there.”

  Jeff did, then took his seat.

  “Guess we’ll soon see how good a tutor my sister is, huh?” whispered Hayes across the aisle.

  Jeff nodded. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was a little disappointed Ms. Collins wasn’t there to read the composition right away. Then he smiled to himself.

  Who would have thought I’d be anxious for someone to read something I’d written? he thought. As he listened to the substitute drone on, he found himself wishing for another reason that Ms. Collins were there — at least she made the material sound interesting!

  At practice that afternoon, Coach Wallace sat the Blades down on the benches. He praised them for their solid victory against the Clover Rovers. He was pointing out some of their mistakes when the sound of a door slamming made him stop.

  Jeff turned with the rest of the team to see who was causing the commotion. It was Hayes Ledbetter.

  “Nice of you to join us, Hayes,” the coach said sarcastically. Hayes mumbled something about being tied up with a teacher unexpectedly.

  The rest of practice was uneventful. The only exciting thing that happened was that Coach Wallace handed out the game schedule. Their first league game was to take place on Saturday.

  Jeff and Kevin talked about the practice and the upcoming game the whole walk home. They were only interrupted when Kevi
n’s helmet fell out of his duffel bag.

  “How’d that zipper get unzipped?” Kevin wondered. “I was sure I’d closed it tight.”

  “Maybe it’s broken,” Jeff replied.

  Kevin grimaced. “If it is, I’ll be in big trouble. This bag is practically brand new!”

  “Here, let me see it,” Jeff said. He took the helmet from Kevin, shoved it into the bag, then fiddled with the zipper for a moment until it worked again. “There you go. Nothing I wouldn’t do to keep you out of trouble!”

  They parted laughing. Jeff hurried the rest of the way home, hungry for dinner.

  He ate two helpings of spaghetti and three rolls. “No room for salad,” he said when his mother urged him to eat “some kind of green thing.” But he managed to polish off a bowl of ice cream ten minutes later.

  “Okay, mister, time to earn your keep. Those recycling bins aren’t going to wait any longer,” his father said when the dishes had been cleared.

  Jeff groaned, but heaved himself up. He knew it wouldn’t take long to finish his chore. Then he could sack out on the couch for a while.

  Mr. Connors had built a number of collection bins onto the side of the garage. Jeff’s job was to separate the material for recycling and the bottles and cans to be returned to the market from the rubbish. Once a month, he joined his father on the trip to the recycling center, where they turned in all that they had collected. Jeff’s father paid him ten dollars each trip, so Jeff couldn’t really complain.

  He had just brought out a stack of magazines that he’d tied up with a piece of string when he heard someone whistling a tune out in front of the house. He looked down the driveway and saw Kevin passing by with Ranger on his usual long leash.

  Jeff watched them for a moment or two. Ranger really did seem like a well-behaved, friendly dog. And he was on a leash. Jeff decided now was as good a time as any to try to learn to like Ranger.

  “Hey, Kev, how are you and the dog doing?” he called out as he walked toward them.