Roller Hockey Radicals Read Free Page A

Childs.”
    “You’re how old?”
    “Thirteen.”
    “Get out.”
    “Seriously.”
    “Okay, whatever you say. Listen, Kirby, can you skate and shoot, too?”
    “Uh-huh. I think so. When I used to play ice hockey, I was mostly a goalie, but I scored two goals the one time they let me
     play forward. Then they put me back in goal. They thought I was too small to play forward. Like I might get hurt or something.”
     He rolled his eyes to show what he thought of
that.
    “Yeah. Except we’ve already got a goalie.” Lainie was standing there, with her hands on her hips. “Me. Remember?” Staring
     at Marty in annoyance, she yanked the stick out of Kirby’s hands. Kirby took off the mask and handed it back to her, too.
    “I thought you were too hot and sweaty under the mask and all that gear,” Marty said, rubbing it in.
    “You know I could have stopped those wimpy shots just as well as Kirby,” she said hotly.
    “She could have, too,” Kirby agreed. He didn’t want to get Lainie mad at him. She was the first friend he’d made here in Valemont.
    “Thanks,” Lainie said in a calmer tone. “Whydon’t you give him a shot at forward, Bledsoe? I’ll get back in goal.”
    “Next time,” Marty said. “I’ve gotta get home for dinner.”
    “Oh, no — me, too!” Kirby said. “What time is it?”
    “Five forty-five,” the overweight defenseman said, checking his watch. “I’d better head out, too. Same time tomorrow?”
    “Four o’clock, Nick,” Marty agreed. Then he turned to Kirby. “Wanna join us?”
    “I’ll be here!” Kirby said excitedly.
    “Cool,” Marty said. “See you then, little guy.”
    The boys all skated away in the other direction, but Lainie was going a couple of blocks in Kirby’s direction.
    “So, you guys just get together to practice?” Kirby asked.
    “No way! We’re a team — the E Street Skates!” Lainie said proudly. “See the uniforms?”
    “Pretty cool. Who do you play against?” Kirby asked.
    “There’s only one other team in town,” she told him. “The Bates Avenue Bad Boys. We hate them, and they hate us. Once every
     week or two, we get together for a game.”
    “Who wins?”
    “Mostly them. But we’re getting better. Hey, we just got ourselves a new player, didn’t we?”
    Kirby beamed as she waved and skated off down G Street, toting her big gray gear bag over her shoulder. “See you tomorrow!”
     she called.
    “Bye!”
    Kirby skated for home, filled with energy and excitement. Living in Valemont isn’t going to be so bad after all, he thought
     hopefully.
    Just then, he skated by the row of stores he’d passed on the way there. Those two mean kids had gone. Kirby looked up at the
     street sign on the corner.
    “Bates Avenue,” he said under his breath. “Uh-oh.”

3
    K irby got home, tired and sweaty, just moments after the church bells in town all rang six o’clock. “Mom!” he called out as
     he plumped down on the front steps and began unlacing his skates. “I’m home!”
    “Hi, Kirby!” It was his father’s voice instead, coming through the open screen door. He sat down next to Kirby and put an
     arm around his shoulders. “How was your day, son?”
    “Great!” Kirby said, pulling off his helmet and starting on his elbow pads. “I met these kids, and —”
    “That’s terrific,” his dad interrupted, giving him a squeeze. “I knew you’d get into the swing of things.”
    Kirby’s dad had straight blond hair, like his own, except that his dad’s hung straight down, while Kirby’s tended to stick
     up. His mom’s hair was like that, too. His dad also wore wire-rim glasses, was skinny, had blue eyes, and was a worrier. That
     was the only bad part about him.
    Kirby washed up quickly, then came down when his mom rang the bell for dinner. The Childs family had always done that — Kirby’s
     great-great-grandparents had probably rung a dinner bell, too.
    Earlier that day, Kirby had been wishing he had a brother or a