Off the Crossbar Read Free Page A

right.”
    “That’s terrific,” Hilton said coldly. “I look forward to seeing you out there.” He reached for a clipboard on his desk and wrote something. “Jake, you have the honour of being the first name on the tryout list. Congratulations.”
    He held up the clipboard for all to see. Jake’s name was written on the top of a blank sheet of lined paper.
    “You may as well put me down as number nine,” Jake said. “That’s my number. It’s always been my number.”
    Hilton tapped his clipboard with his pen. “Number nine is quite the number, Jake — Gordie Howe, Bobby Hull, Johnny Bucyk, not to mention Gretzky, who needed two of them.”
    “Not a problem,” Jake said laughing, his friends joining in.
    Matt put up his hand.
    “Yes?” Hilton asked.
    “While you’re at it, you should add Matt Danko to your list. And I’m number ten.”
    “Put down Thomas Biggs, number four.”
    “And Liam Johnson, number fourteen.”
    Hilton held up his hands in mock surrender. “Hold on a minute, boys. First off, numbers will be handed out when the team is picked. Grade nine and ten students are eligible for the junior team, so the competition will be tough. Why don’t I just leave this on my desk and you can sign it after class. If you make the team, then we’ll worry about numbers, all right?”
    They nodded and grinned at each other.
    “Excuse me, Mr. Hilton.” The door opened slightly, and a man with a shock of grey hair, bushy grey eyebrows and long grey sideburns poked his head into the narrow opening. It was the school principal, Nathan Holmes. “I am so terribly sorry for interrupting, but I do rather need to discuss an important matter with you. Would yourstudents mind if I borrowed you for a moment?”
    “Of course,” Hilton replied. The door closed, and Hilton rolled his neck, taking a deep breath. “I’ll be right back. Try not to create too much havoc while I’m gone. I’d recommend looking over the syllabus, so that we can get right into it.” With that he nodded and walked out into the hall.
    The students began to talk quietly among themselves. Jake and his gang first began to discuss who would make the team, calling out names and deciding who didn’t have a chance. The discussion then turned to their teacher and coach. Charlie tried not to listen, but he couldn’t help overhear Liam say that he heard Hilton had been a star junior player. He had played with the Canadian junior team, and had even been drafted by the Boston Bruins. Charlie found his tone rather disrespectful. Liam made it sound as if Hilton was a loser who couldn’t make it in the big leagues.
    Pudge got up and stood at the back of the class, looking out the window at the schoolyard, kicking the floor absentmindedly with the heel of his right shoe. He slowly wandered along the window, running his hand across the heating vent, until he came close to Charlie. He stood there, not saying a word, until finally Charlie asked if he wanted something.
    “Oh no,” Pudge replied, as if he’d been caught doing something wrong. “Just wondered. Are you going to try out for the team?”
    “I didn’t know about it until now.”
    “Every year the eight high schools from the districthave a tournament. Not every school sends a junior and senior team, but we do. Anyway, the tournament starts in two weeks. It’s called the Champions Cup. Our school has a regular hockey team, but it’s not very competitive since most of the best players play rep hockey. The tournament is totally intense. Everyone comes out for the games, and we have some pretty good rivalries going, especially with Chelsea.”
    “Are they any good?” Charlie asked.
    “They’ve won the tournament, junior and senior, for the past five years.” He lowered his voice. “I bet our junior team has a bunch of grade nines on it. The grade tens aren’t supposed to be very good. Anyway, a lot of the guys think with the new grade nines, we have a good chance. You saw a