Overtime (10 page)

Some committee members tried to hide their giggles as he walked across the cafeteria floor. His shoes were soaking wet from the rain, and lately they’d started squeaking. Scott and Nick had taken to calling him Squeakers — definitely not a nickname he wanted to catch on.

It was hard to keep a low profile, though. Apart from the Fundraising Committee members, he and Julia were the only ones here for the pancake breakfast.

“Could I get some help, please?”

A.J. sounded totally stressed. Milk, juice, tea, coffee, hot chocolate, fruit, butter and syrup were organized at one end of a table. A.J. had two electric skillets at the other end, and she was busily making the pancakes. She had decorated the table nicely, with a tablecloth and the school crest in the middle, cut out of coloured paper. Everything looked great.

Charlie looked at the clock: 8:25. No wonder A.J. was nervous. This was her idea. Where was everyone? He had agonized over coming, on the one hand wanting to support the school, and on the other preferring to hide
at home after the disastrous hockey practice. He’d already undergone a bit of good-natured ribbing from his buds, which actually made him feel better. He knew they didn’t think any less of him because of it. It was other kids he was worried about. At the very least, Trisha and Emily would be blabbing about it.

He felt his stomach growl. Charlie approached A.J. She looked past him.

“Hi, Mr. Hilton and Ms Cummings,” she said loudly. “How about a special save-the-roof pancake breakfast to help the school’s fundraising? Comes with fruit and your choice of beverage.”

The teachers walked over.

“It might not be the best for my waistline, but it’s for a good cause, so why not?” Hilton said.

“Count me in too,” Cummings said, patting her stomach.

A.J. reached for two plates and began loading them up. Charlie stepped to the side to be polite.

“So how are the pancakes, Charlie?” Hilton said.

“I haven’t had one yet,” he said. “I’m … waiting.”

“I was telling Mr. Hilton about the co-ed team,” Cummings said. “It’s a terrific collection of kids. I was amazed at the skill level. This really is a remarkable school for hockey.”

“What’s the senior team like?” Charlie said.

Cummings sighed. “There was a less than enthusiastic response from the older students. We only have a junior team.”

“But Bee-Bees Boutique is giving twenty five thousand each for the junior and senior teams,” Julia said. “They agreed to let us transfer the money from our
athletic department to the roof fund. It’s a chance to win fifty thousand dollars!”

“What’s this about transferring money?” Hilton asked.

“Charlie and I went to one of their stores and spoke to the manager. She texted me last night, giving us the okay,” she said.

Hilton whistled softly. “That was good initiative on your part.”

“We still have to win,” Charlie said.

“Here are your breakfasts,” A.J. announced, handing the plates to the teachers.

Cummings laughed. “You’re certainly trying to fatten us up,” she said.

“I gave you each an extra pancake,” she whispered.

Hilton gazed at the pile of food. “I was being such a good boy lately,” he said. A.J. reached over and poured more syrup on top.

“That’s enough, A.J.” Hilton laughed. “Thanks.”

“I was thinking that you, Alexandra and Trisha would in fact make a formidable forward line,” Cummings said to Charlie.

Charlie felt his stomach turn.

“I usually play with Zachary and Pudge,” Charlie said.

“We can only have two boys on the ice at any time,” Cummings said. “Every defence pair has a boy and a girl, so we can’t have two boys on one forward line. You’ll be great together. You’re all such fast skaters, and Mr. Hilton was filling me in on your hockey talents.”

All he could manage was a half-hearted smile and a quiet, “Thanks.”

“I think I’ll need to finish this in the staff lounge. I have some work to clear up,” Hilton said. “It looks great, A.J. You and the committee have done a great job.”

“We could do with actually selling some pancakes,” Melissa grumbled.

“It’s not my fault,” A.J. snapped. “Stupid rain, and the stupid kids are too lazy to wake up two minutes early.”

“I didn’t say it was your fault,” Melissa said. “But so far we’ve sold eleven breakfasts, eight to committee members, one to Julia, and one each to Mr. Hilton and Ms Cummings.”

“I’ll try to round up some more teachers,” Hilton said.

“I think I’d better run too,” Cummings said. “This is lovely. Thanks. Take care, kids.”

She and Hilton left.

A.J. seemed on the verge of tears. She stomped off and sat on the stairs leading up to the stage. Melissa shook her head and made her way to the other end of the table. The other committee members were off to the side talking. Charlie stared wistfully at the pancakes.

Julia tipped her head in A.J.’s direction. “Drama on the committee,” she whispered.

“Were the pancakes good?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Awful,” she whispered.

His stomach growled again. “Awful sounds pretty good to me,” he whispered back.

She laughed. “Are we still good to go to the rink after school to ask about ice time for the skate-a-thon?”

He had forgotten about that. “I guess. Sure. What time?”

“How about right after school?”

“Cool. It shouldn’t take long. I think Pudge can come too.”

“Cool.”

He nodded a few times. She nodded back.

The warning bell sounded. “I’m not going to be fed, am I?” Charlie said.

“It appears not.”

“I’m not much of a breakfast guy, anyway. See ya after school. We can just meet in front?”

“Sure. No problem.”

“Bye.” He took a last longing look at the pancakes and turned to leave.

Julia reached out and touched his elbow. “Charlie, I know it’s not a big deal, and it’s probably dumb to even mention it, but I thought that maybe you were a little … embarrassed when Emily bodychecked you.”

Charlie looked down at the floor. She had to bring that up? “It’s no big deal — whatever. I admit I’m not stoked about it getting around, but there’s about a zero percent chance of that not happening.”

“People say all sorts of stuff. You can’t listen to them.”

“That’s easy to say when they aren’t saying it about you. I bet Emily was bragging about it in the dressing room.”

“Not really. I saw Trisha talking to her, and Emily barely said anything after that. There were a few comments, but most of the girls were actually not that impressed. You obviously weren’t expecting it.” She paused. “Everyone knows you’re a great player.”

Her kind words took him by surprise, and he felt at a loss for what to say. “I admit I might have been a
teensy-weensy bit embarrassed by getting stomped on by a girl, but I’m over it.”

She screwed up her eyes. “You saying a girl can’t stomp?”

He grinned. “I’m living proof they can.”

She laughed. Every once in a while he noticed that Julia was kind of cute — especially when she laughed.

“Get lost before A.J. puts you to work cleaning up,” Julia said.

“After school then.”

“Bye.”

Dalton came over just as Charlie was starting to leave. “I wanted to ask if you had made any progress on the skate-a-thon,” he said, and then nodded at Melissa. “The general is demanding a report.”

“We’re going to the rink today to arrange the ice time,” Charlie said.

“Outstanding,” Dalton said.

The conversation lagged for a moment.

“I think A.J. is pretty upset,” Julia said.

“It was not an impressive turnout,” Dalton said.

“So much for our first fundraiser. We ended up losing money,” Charlie said.

“The rain didn’t help,” Dalton said.

“No one coming didn’t help either,” Charlie said.

“The ball hockey tournament got a positive response,” Dalton said. “I’ve got thirty-two teams entered at fifty dollars each.”

Julia did a quick calculation. “That’s sixteen hundred,” she exclaimed. “Dalton, that’s awesome.”

He blushed and bowed his head. “Just doing my duty,” he said.

“We better get handing out pledge sheets for the skate-a-thon,” Charlie said.

“Might I suggest leaving some in the teachers’ boxes in the office? They can hand them out in homeroom, and then we can have an announcement in the morning to publicize it.”

“I’ll design a poster and we can hang them up around school,” Julia said.

“Awesome. If we can just get one hundred kids to raise one hundred dollars each …” Charlie said.

“It would be better if they each raised fifteen hundred dollars, and we’d be done with it,” Julia joked.

“I don’t actually skate,” Dalton said, “but I imagine I can get some pledges from various family members.”

“That would be great,” Charlie said.

“I really would appreciate some help here, please,” A.J. said. She was glaring at them and her eyes were a little red.

“This is a Fundraising Committee event,” Dalton said to them. “I’ll do it.”

“No problem,” Charlie said.

He began to pick up the paper plates, and soon they had put almost everything away.

“We should keep all this,” Dalton said to A.J., “so we can do it again. We didn’t hang many posters, and the weather being what it is probably scared people off.”

“Do you really think so?” A.J. said.

“Absolutely,” Dalton said. “We’ve been busy dealing with other matters; and sure, the rain …”

“That’s true,” A.J. said. “Who wants to get to school early in a storm.”

“We only need some good weather,” Dalton said reassuringly.

The bell rang.

Principal Holmes came scurrying over. “Hurry up, boys and girls. School’s starting and we must get the cafeteria tables back in place.”

“Would you like a quick breakfast?” A.J. offered. “Only three dollars.”

“Oh no, thank you,” he said. “I only eat bran cereal and fruit in the morning.”

A.J.’s face fell.

“But … well, of course a pancake or two wouldn’t hurt,” he said.

A.J. piled some pancakes onto his plate, and then threw the rest in the garbage. Charlie had to fight off the urge to reach in and pull one out.

Principal Holmes looked at his watch. “I have to get back to the office for announcements. I really don’t have enough time in the day. I’m running around from morning till night.”

As they finished cleaning up, Charlie began to plan the skate-a-thon in his head. He figured they should hand out the pledge sheets at the front of the
school in the morning and after school for a few days to make sure everyone knew about it, even the kids who were late for school and missed the announcements. A poster would be good too. He hoped they could book a good time at the Ice Palace. The hockey season had started and it might be tough. But he knew the rink manager from last season, so he was not too worried. Gus loved them. He had even given the Rebels free ice for practice last year. Charlie tightened the lid on the orange juice and put it in a box.

“Could you guys carry this to the front of the school?” A.J. said. “My mom’s probably waiting for me outside to take it home.”

“Sure,” they all chorused. Charlie grabbed a box and with the others hauled it out to the curb. He looked at all the kids filing past to get into the school. Would it have been too much to expect a few of them to come for breakfast?

What would they think of a skate-a-thon?

A distant rumbling in the clouds threatened another downpour. The ground was still wet from the morning, but for now the rain held off. The sinking feeling in Charlie’s stomach grew with each step. If they didn’t get a good time, the skate-a-thon might not work at all.

“Gus will come through,” Charlie said, mostly to convince himself.

“I got the names of a few more rinks if we need them,” Pudge said, waving a paper in the air.

“We need the Ice Palace,” Julia said. “Otherwise people can’t walk to the rink.”

Charlie didn’t even want to go there. “Maybe we won’t get the best day or we’ll have to cut down on the hours. But it’ll be okay — Gus loves us.”

They went in and headed straight over to Gus’s office. It was a legendary spot in Terrence Falls, filled with classic hockey memorabilia: signed photos of famous players, sticks from the fifties and sixties, old skates hanging from wall hooks, equipment scattered about — it was like visiting the Hockey Hall of Fame in miniature.

“It’s the Rebels,” Gus declared in his gravelly voice.
“But who’s your lady friend?”

“This is Julia,” Charlie said. The warm greeting boosted his confidence. “Hi Gus,” he said. “We wanted to talk to you about some ice time.”

“You guys sure are serious about defending the championship, aren’t you?” Gus said.

“It’s not for the Rebels …” Charlie said.

“A bit of shinny? I love you guys — never too much hockey. I got some time early Sunday morning.”

“It’s for a fundraiser,” Julia interjected, “for Terrence Falls High. We’re raising money to fix the roof. If we don’t hit our target, the school will close and we’ll all have to go to other schools.”

“So we had this idea for a skate-a-thon,” Charlie added. “We wanted to rent the ice for a day. We’re collecting pledges and a bunch of kids will come and skate.”

Gus scrunched his nose. “You need a whole day?”

“Well … not necessarily the entire day,” Julia said. “But … you know … a chunk of time.”

Gus didn’t look happy. “I’d love to help you, of course. I’d do anything I could. But other than a couple of hours here and there, like that Sunday slot, we’re totally booked. You know how busy this place gets after the summer. If you’d talked to me back in April or May, we could’ve swung it.”

“We didn’t know about it then,” Charlie said.

Gus seemed genuinely upset. “You could try the Flemington Arena, only I doubt you’ll have much luck there. I know for a fact Cliffcrest is booked. Ice time is as scarce as hens’ teeth.”

Charlie didn’t exactly know if hens had teeth, but he
guessed they didn’t.

“There’s Ted Beeve over at St. Briar and Central. I know the manager there. Let me give him a call.”