Line Change Read Free

books.
    Actually, considering the amount of Jean Ducette stuff I had up on the walls, it might have made a better cover for a book about him.
    A biography of a legend, just like the ones I had for Gretzky and Gordie Howe in my personal hockey library. Of course, the library only filled one bookshelf so far, but it was growing fast.
    Aside from the books, the ultimate piece in my hockey collection was the jersey Ducette had signed for me when I met him at a Canucks game after winning the PUCK contest. I’d just missed my one big chance at a shot from centre ice and a big prize, but it didn’t matter.
    Jean Ducette made me forget I’d blown it.
    Well, almost, anyway.
    He was my absolute, number one hero.
    I flopped on my bed and started flipping through the pages of my brand new hockey bible, but stopped.
    Math had to come first. Period.
    Otherwise Mum would not only take away the book, but stop me from watching the game that night, whether Kenny came over or not.
    As much as I hated to do it, I cracked open my Math textbook instead. As usual, the homework assignment looked like hieroglyphics.
    At least I had Eddie Bosko to help me pass, so I wasn’t as doomed as I could have been. But I still seemed to be pretty doomed.
    I took a deep breath and started the first question, wishing he was there to walk me through it. Everything made more sense when Bosko explained it, which was funny, because you’d think a genius would only explain stuff at genius level.
    After about an hour I needed a break, so I checked out the Cougars schedule I’d tacked to my bulletin board, right next to my favourite picture of Jean Ducette.
    The next month or so was looking good. Of course, we’d already lost to the Thunder, but next up was Nanaimo, who usually gave us a run for the money. Our record from last season showed we didn’t finish that far ahead of them, so we’d definitely be putting some hustle into that game.
    After Nanaimo came the Esquimalt Eagles, who were the lowest ranked team on the island. Hockey was never a joke, but playing the Eagles was pretty close to it.
    Next were the Sooke Seagulls, whose goofy name didn’t match how good they were. After us and Bosko’s old Shoreline team, the Seagulls were probably the best team on the island.
    We had our work cut out for us, and it would be weird if we went into games without Coach, but I knew Dad was going to be an awesome secret weapon.
    *   *   *
    That night, Kenny came over and we watched his Red Wings play the Blackhawks on TV, which was pretty cool.
    But Kenny wasn’t.
    As usual, he was wearing all of his game night gear, including sweatpants, a T-shirt, hoodie and even a Red Wings tuque.
    He was shiny with sweat about six minutes into the first period.
    “You can take some of that off, you know,” I told him.
    “No way. It’s my lucky gear.”
    Dad and I just shook our heads.
    “Even the air freshener?” I asked, pointing at the logo hanging around his neck, totally reeking of cherries.
    “Yup.”
    “You’re taking it seriously,” Dad said.
    “I have to, Mr. McDonald,” My buddy said, blowing onhis hands to cool them off before he put his Red Wings mitts back on. “If I’m missing one piece of my gear, they might lose.”
    “I see,” Dad said, and I could tell he was trying not to laugh.
    When Dad left to get drinks to go with the big bag of ripple chips I couldn’t believe Mum had actually bought, Kenny said, “I wonder how long Coach is going to be out.”
    “I don’t know,” I said, shrugging.
    “Because we’ve got some big games coming up.”
    “Yeah, Nanaimo this weekend, then Esquimalt and —”
    “At least we aren’t playing Shoreline for a while.”
    “We beat them last time,” I reminded him.
    Not that I was actually on the ice for the game. The Sharks were the biggest team in the league and Coach O’Neal always kept his tiniest player (me) on the bench for that one.
    “Well, Nanaimo’s a tough team.”
    “I know, Ken.