Roller Hockey Radicals Read Free

My parents wanted me to go to camp, too, but they didn’t get the paperwork done in time and there wasn’t
     any space left. So here I am.”
    “What’s so great about camp, anyway?” Kirby volunteered. “I like to be home.”
    “Yeah? Where’d you live before this?” Lainie asked.
    “Minford.”
    “How do you like Valemont so far?”
    “It’s okay, I guess. Minford was better, though.”
    “Oh, yeah?”
    “Well, there were lots of kids around during the summer, and they had an ice hockey rink.”
    “Sounds cool. I’ve never been to Minford.” Lainie took a swig of her sports drink and wiped the sweat from her forehead.
    “What grade are you going into? Ninth?” Kirby asked.
    Lainie smiled. “No, eighth. I’m thirteen.”
    “Really? Me, too!”
    “You’re thirteen?” Lainie said. She sounded surprised.
    “I know, I look eleven, right?” Kirby sighed again and looked down at the ants crawling in the street.
    “No, I guess you could be thirteen,” Lainie said generously. “It’s just that —”
    “I know. I’m short, right?”
    “Well, no offense, but you are.”
    “I know. It bites.”
    “Hey, you think being taller than all the boys in your class is fun? I’ll trade you.” She smiled.
    Kirby smiled back. “I wish,” he said.
    “Hey, Kirby, you play hockey?” she asked.
    “I’ve played ice hockey,” he replied. “Goalie, actually.”
    “Good!” Lainie clapped him on the back. “Hey, you guys!” she shouted. “I found us another goalie!”
    “Oh, no, wait a minute,” Kirby quickly objected. “I’ve never played hockey on in-line skates… and I’m not —”
    “All right!” number 14 said, skating up to Kirby and Lainie. “Who’s my next victim?”
    “Ha, ha, Marty. This is Kirby. He’s new in town. Take it easy on him, okay?”
    “Hey, Kirby,” he said. “I’m Marty. You really wanna get in there and try to stop my famous slap shot?”
    “Actually —”
    “Yes, he does!” Lainie interrupted him before Kirby could say no. “Here, we’ll tighten up the mask and gear for you. Man,
     I’ve been waiting forever for a chance to play forward!”
    “Hey, Nick! Trev! Jamal! Check out the new goalie!”
    “All right! Excellent!” came the shouts of approval, mixed with laughter as Kirby stood there, decked out in goalie gear that
     was way too big for him.
    “Let’s get ready to rum-bull!” Marty yelled, and they all got up to shoot the puck at Kirby.
    Kirby stood there in front of the goal, feeling terrified. This was it — this was his big chance.If he flopped, would they ever want to be friends with him?
    Zing!
A shot winged at him before he even knew it was coming. Kirby raised his arm to protect himself — and miraculously, the puck
     caromed off his catch glove!
    “Nice save, Kelly!” Marty said.
    “Kirby. It’s Kirby,” Kirby said.
    “Get it right,” Lainie demanded, and took a pretty good shot at Kirby herself.
    “Kirby, whatever,” Marty said good-naturedly, getting the rebound. “Hey, Kirby — curb this one!” And he fired a bullet at
     the goal, low and to the left.
    Kirby dropped to the ground, his legs splayed out in a split. It hurt like crazy — he hadn’t warmed up at all — but his left
     leg pad smothered the puck.
    “Not bad, for a little dude,” the other forward said to Marty. “Of course, with your wimpy shot…”
    “Be quiet, Trevor,” Marty said. “Let’s see if you can get one past him.”
    “All right,” Trevor said, accepting the challenge and taking the puck from Marty’s stick. “Here you go, goalie!” He skated
     three steps closer to the goal, wound up in full flight, and fired.
    The puck was past Kirby when he instinctively flashed his catch glove out and grabbed it.
    “Score! Score!” Trevor shouted. “It was past the goal mouth!”
    “Never mind. That was some save,” Marty said, skating over to Kirby. “What did you say your name was?” he asked, interested
     this time.
    “Kirby. Kirby