Lucky Seven Read Free Page B

one… two… three. The Magpies won, clinching the pennant.
    Ted Salin shook Jamie’s hand afterwards,holding it in both of his. “I figured you’d pull out that plum sooner or later!” he grinned.
    Jamie smiled warmly, sorry that he had ever thought Ted didn’t know what he was doing.
    “I guess sitting on the bench did me good!” he laughed.

Stop That Puck!

     
    TIM COURTNEY braced himself in front of the net, his hockey stick gripped in both gloved hands. His eyes peered intently through
     the slot of his face guard. What a game! Nine to two in favor of the opponents, the Beavers. Good thing there were only a
     few minutes left in the game, or the Beavers would turn the game into the biggest slaughter the Bobcats had ever known.
    The Beavers’ speedy left forward, Monk Thomas, came skating toward the goal, dribbling the puck. Tim waited breathlessly.
     Chip Flint, the Bobcats’ strong left forward, glided in from Monk’s left side and tried to steal the puck. Monk passed to
     another Beaver. BeforeTim could move, the puck sailed past his left skate into the net for another score.
    “Come on, Tim!” Chip yelled. “You’ve got to move faster than that!”
    Nobody had to tell Tim that. Of course he had to move faster. He just couldn’t, that’s all.
    He glanced at the clock. One minute and twenty seconds to go, plenty of time for the Beavers to score another point or two.
     A poor attitude to take, but that’s the way things were going. The Beavers were gnawing their way to a one-sided victory just
     because the Bobcats had a poor goalie.
    The face-off. The referee dropped the puck between the two centers. Chip stole it from the Beaver center and dribbled it across
     the Bobcats’ blue line. But a second later the ref blew his whistle. Fats Bailey, the Bobcats’ chubby right guard, was off
     side.
    A face-off in the Beavers’ attacking zone. Chip and a Beaver forward struggled for the puck. Chip got it again. He smacked
     it across the center line. Nobody got it. It struck theboards and glanced behind the Beavers’ goalie before a Beaver touched it.
    The referee’s whistle shrilled again. The official folded his arms, indicating the icing infraction, and the puck was brought
     back into the Bobcats’ defensive zone for another face-off.
    Left guard Jack Towns and a Beaver forward squared off for the puck. Their sticks clashed as they fought for control. Suddenly
     the puck skidded across the ice toward the net and Tim struck it with his stick, sending it against the boards at the right
     side.
    “Thataway, Tim! Nice Save!” shouted the fans.
    Oh, sure, he thought. Nice save, and we’re trailing 10 to 2. Was somebody being funny?
    The game finally ended, and he wished he could cut a hole in the ice and crawl into it. He skated to the locker room, hoping
     he wouldn’t be seen in the crowd. Yet he heard someoneyell, “Tough luck, Tim! Get em’ the next time!”
    Coach Jim Higgs had little to say. “The Beavers were on today and we were off,” he said. “See you Tuesday night at practice.
     Are you going to make it, Tim?”
    Tim had avoided his eyes. Now he looked up. The coach was eyeing him. “I’ll try to,” he said.
    “You were at only one practice last week,” reminded Coach Higgs. “If you want to play, you’ll have to practice too, Tim. It’s
     not fair to the other boys.”
    Tim’s face colored. “I’ll be there,” he promised.
    The game was the topic at the supper table. Mom, Dad, and Janie, Tim’s younger sister, always attended the games and talked
     about them afterward. After a while the conversation changed to the skiing contest held on Berry Peak at the same time the
     Small Fry Hockey League played its games. Tim wished that he could have seen it.
    “Cathy Erickson won it, I heard,” saidJanie. “Next week she’s competing in the finals.”
    “She ought to be good,” said Tim. “She practically lives on those skis.”
    Janie’s large brown eyes swung around