Overtime (18 page)

Charlie had expected that. His coach hated his players showing off, and now that they had the four points wrapped up, there was no need to keep pressing.

Trisha followed him out. “I don’t agree,” she said to him as they drifted to the faceoff. Trisha had never played for Hilton, and, as she had said herself in the dressing room — and shown during the game — she was ultra-competitive and never let up. “Winning the tournament could come down to most goals if there’s a tie for points, and other teams will kill these guys too.”

It occurred to him that Trisha might have a point. But there was no way he would disobey a direct order from his coach, at least not a coach like Hilton.

“If we win all three games, we won’t have to worry about goals,” Charlie said. “It’s 12–0. I’m feeling guilty already. I think we should ease up.”

Trisha bit her lower lip, and then her face lit up with a smile. “Okay, Charlie Joyce. We’ll do it your way.” She tapped his shin pads and took her spot at right wing.

The ref blew her whistle and glared at him. “Come on, number eight. Line it up.”

Charlie rushed over, and the ref dropped it before he got his stick down.

“What’s with that?” he said.

“Play the game,” the ref said.

Charlie gave his head a shake and watched Trisha pressure the left defenceman, although she didn’t go in too hard. The puck moved to the centre, and he set off up ice. Charlie could have stripped him of the puck, but
he let him cross the red line and fire it deep into Terrence Falls’ end. Cassie had not had much action, and she came out to trap the puck behind the net, leaving it there for Michelle.

The Winona left winger skated at her. Michelle waited until she had committed herself and then took the puck out the other side. For a second Charlie was tempted to goal suck and look for the stretch pass. Trisha was hovering at the red line too, obviously with the same idea. Julia had hustled back, and Michelle passed to her.

Charlie immediately felt ashamed. Not ten seconds after telling Trisha to back off, there he was, looking to score. Julia was the only one who had listened. He skated back and branched off near the blue line. Julia snapped a pass over. Trisha had come across and Charlie gave it to her near the red line. Trisha took it over the line, and then lofted a lazy wrist shot on goal. Her forecheck was equally laid back, and Winona got the puck out easily this time.

The rest of the game followed the same pattern. Terrence Falls was too good to give up a goal, and under Hilton’s orders, not interested in scoring. Time after time they sent the puck spinning into Winona’s end content to defend and get the puck out. Cassie got a few more shots in the last minutes of the game.

It ended 12–0. At the buzzer, a dejected Winona team gathered around their net, in stark contrast to Terrence Falls. Stoked by the easy win, there were high-fives all around and lots of laughter.

“I admire you for controlling yourself and not scoring,” Charlie said to Trisha, as they headed to centre to shake hands.

She laughed. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you inching your way to centre looking for the breakaway.”

“I admit my natural instincts took over for a second.”

“I like your instincts,” she said.

The conversation felt a bit weird all of a sudden. For some reason he actually felt more relaxed around her when she was mean to him. Nice Trisha was hard to read. Now that he thought about it, it was a bit like how he felt around Julia sometimes.

Charlie finished shaking hands with the Winona players, and then curled slowly back to his bench. Zachary, Scott and Rebecca had come down to offer what Scott called “injury high-fives.” He spotted Nick and Matt in the stands talking to some kids from school. Hilton and Dalton were standing together, and Dalton was laughing at something their coach had said.

It was a nice scene — and if they could do this two more times, they’d get the money — and maybe save their school!

The puck hit a leg in front and bounced into the corner. Charlie raced to get it. He faked a move behind the net and whirled the other way along the board. Two Northern defenders pressured. Charlie slid it to Michelle at the point, who fired it without hesitation across the blue line to Pudge. That was dangerous, as the Northern centre extended his stick and just missed intercepting. As soon as Pudge had the puck, Charlie stormed the net for a rebound, arriving just as Pudge fired a slapshot. The front of the net was so congested the puck hit another leg and then banged off Julia’s skate — right to Charlie. He slapped at it, but so did a defenceman, and Charlie didn’t get much wood on it. The puck hit the goalie’s blocker and dropped to her right, about a metre and a half from the post.

“Get it, Trisha,” Charlie yelled.

Trisha lunged and knocked it to the corner, racing after it. Charlie gambled and went behind the net. If she lost it, they would both be out of the play. But it was 4–all, and less than a minute to play. They had won the first two periods, but Northern had come back to tie it up.

Trisha got the puck, hesitated a moment, and then sent it around the wall on her forehand. Charlie pressed against the boards to knock the puck down, and immediately took it out the far side, looking for an opportunity to pass.

Pudge came down low, but the right winger stayed with him. Julia was in front battling for position. There was a defenceman on her, and he was pushing her away. He was too big, and Charlie doubted she could get free. So he backed up with the puck on his forehand towards the wall. Pudge stopped abruptly and got back to the point. The right winger did not know whether she should pressure Charlie or stay with Pudge. Charlie took advantage and slid a pass to Pudge and then went a couple of metres backwards to the corner. Pudge one-timed a pass back to him. Charlie held it, drawing the right winger ever closer to him. He passed it to Pudge, and jumped past a Northern defenceman to get close to the net.

This time Pudge got the puck through. The athletic Northern goalie was equal to the challenge, and kicked it out with a right pad save. Again, the puck came to Charlie. A defenceman charged at him. He snapped a shot at the net, not really aiming, and not really seeing it.

PING!

The puck ricocheted off the post and into the corner. He watched the defenceman track the puck down and head up ice. No one bothered to stop her. There were only five seconds on the clock. She flicked it towards Terrence Falls’ end, and turned back to her net. The buzzer rang to end the game.

“That was brutal. A post?” Charlie said.

“Do you know what happens now?” Julia asked him.

He shook his head.

A referee skated by.

“Hey ref,” he called out. “Do we have overtime?”

She shook her head. “We go right to a shootout. I’ll explain it to your coach. Back to your benches, please.”

Charlie pushed off twice with his left skate and glided the rest of the way on his right.

“Almost had one there,” Pudge said to him.

“I rushed it,” Charlie said, a bit angry at himself. He’d had time, and did not have to one-time it. Dumb mistake. He’d had a good game, though: two goals and one assist. Trisha had potted a goal and had an assist, and Julia had gotten a goal and two assists.

“OMG,” Julia groaned at the bench. “I hate shootouts.”

“You’ll need to learn to love them, and quickly,” Hilton said. “It’s an NHL-style shootout — three shooters, and two have to be girls. Most goals wins. If it’s still tied after three shooters, it becomes sudden death.” In a louder voice he announced, “The first three shooters are Charlie, Trisha and Julia, in that order. The rest of you come to the bench.”

Charlie was across from Emily, and for the briefest of seconds he saw her grimace. He understood she would want to shoot. She was a good player, and had done well on what was probably the weaker line. To her credit she did not complain and always offered encouragement.

“You own this goalie, Trish,” she said. “Smoke it past her.”

They made their way to centre to wait for the shootout to begin. Trisha waved the other two towards
her.

“This goalie is quick on her feet,” she said quietly, “and she’s good on the deke. I think we should shoot if she stays back in her crease. She’ll play for the deke, I know it.”

Charlie did not know how to take that. He was not used to being told what to do on a breakaway, unless it was by Hilton. Or was the problem that it was Trisha giving him pointers? Her advice made sense, though. The goalie had been back in her crease all game. He’d been thinking shot too.

The shooters from Northern interrupted before he could answer.

“Look,” a tall girl said, pointing her stick at Julia. “That’s the best they can do.”

“It’s cute, in a pathetic way,” a girl with a red helmet said.

“Maybe you’re just pathetic — in a pathetic way,” Julia shot back.

The tall girl rolled her eyes. “Listen to the tough girl. Did any of you even touch the puck this game?” she said, to her friend’s great amusement.

Julia laughed. “You might have noticed me putting the puck in your net; and you’ll see me do it again in the shootout.”

“In your dreams, girl.”

“Good luck in the shootout,” Trisha said, “and while you’re missing the net, we’ll discuss whether any of you girls have washed your hair in the past week.”

The referee blew her whistle. “Give me the first shooters,” she said.

The Northern players huddled up.

“That was fairly intense,” Charlie said.

Trisha and Julia were laughing.

“That was fun, dude,” Trisha said. “Now I’m gonna roof a backhander just to show her who’s boss.”

Julia gave Charlie’s shoulder a punch. “They’re just messing with us. Go get us a lead.”

Charlie skated to centre.

Scott’s voice boomed over the crowd noise. “I command you to score, Joyce.” then a chant went up from the TFH students: “Char-lie! Char-lie! Char-lie!”

He felt his nerves kick in. The noise level rose higher and higher, until the cheers echoed throughout the arena.

“When I blow the whistle you both go at the same time,” the referee said.

Charlie took a deep breath to refocus.

The ref blew her whistle.

The crowd roared, and Charlie set off at a slow pace. Unfortunately, the goalie did the exact opposite of what he wanted. She came way out to challenge, a full metre above the crease line. If she stayed that far out he would have to go with the deke. At the blue line, he picked up speed to try to shake her up, cutting right to his forehand, and then swinging it to his backhand at the top of the circle. She had not budged. Alarm bells sounded in his head. The shot would not work. She had the angle. But changing your mind at the last second was about the worst thing you could do on a penalty shot. She was so far out, though. He had to deke.

The goalie suddenly backed up until she was in the middle of the crease area. He had waited too long. Charlie felt sick. Without thinking he took one more
stride, dragged the puck with his right foot forward, and let it fly from about three metres. His chest constricted. The goalie dropped to her left knee and flung out her blocker. She had misjudged it slightly and the puck went just over the blocker, hit the shaft of her stick, and bounced off her shoulder.

She fell backwards, swimming her arms over her head, and in doing so the thick part of her stick hit the puck and it sneaked inside the right post, spinning on its edge. The Terrence Falls supporters went crazy. It was a goal — a lucky one.

He looked back to his end. The Northern shooter was high-fiving his teammates. He had scored also. At least the pressure was off him now. Trisha and Julia greeted him with an outstretched glove.

“Thanks for the heart attack,” Trisha said.

“It went in,” Julia said. “Who cares how?”

Charlie looked up at the ceiling. “At the last second I changed my mind and was about to deke. That was a fluke. She fooled me by collapsing to the goal line at the last second.”

“I’m still going shot,” Trisha said. “She’ll try the same stunt with me.”

Charlie was about to offer some advice, but she left for centre before he could. She sure is confident, he thought.

“I hope she’s right,” Charlie said.

“She better be,” Julia said. “She told me ten times how she never misses on a shootout.”

“Shooters who have gone must go to the bench,” a referee said to him.

Charlie patted Julia’s shin pads with his stick. “I’d
either shoot or deke,” he said. “Otherwise, I have no clue.”

She rolled her eyes. “Thanks for that.”

Pudge opened the door and held out his glove. They punched, and then he gave Charlie a healthy whack on the helmet.

“I never doubted that would go in for a second,” Pudge said.

Charlie took a deep breath. “That was living way to close to the edge,” he said.

“Nick, I believe it is time to use our natural wizard powers,” Scott announced.

They were next to the bench by the boards. Nick was propped up on some pillows so he could see the play better from his wheelchair.

Scott stood and put his hand on his heart, while Nick held his arms up over his head and flickered his fingers.

“Ipsy, Apsy, Ticksy, Bisha,” they chanted. “I see a goal, and it’s scored by Trisha.”

Scott paused and then yelled to the bench, “Tell Dalton to get more powerful wizards for the Chelsea game.”

The whistle blew and Trisha took off like a house on fire and, as before, the goalie came out. Trisha did not hesitate. At the hash marks she snapped a wrister, glove side, to the top corner. She made a big curl deep in the corner, stick raised over her head. She had done it.

“Awesome shot,” Charlie said, pounding Pudge on the helmet.

“I didn’t know you were such a Northern fan,” Pudge said, and he shook his head.

Charlie glanced over in time to see the Northern
shooter with her stick held high. He banged the top of the boards. Still tied!

“I hate both shooters going at once,” Charlie said. “I don’t know who to watch.”