Fever Season Read Online Free Page B

past the main entrance.
    â€œWe have to find someone on the other side,” his father told him. He almost had to shout to make himself heard. “Take my hand. I don’t want us to get separated.”
    David had to hold tight as he and his father made their way against the flow of people. He wondered how they were ever going to pick one person out of the crowd, but his father knew what he was doing. There were a lot fewer people once they finally turned the corner, and David’s father had no trouble locating the man he was looking for.
    â€œSalut!” the man said.
    â€œBon jour, Henri.”
    â€œVous venez pour voir les Canadiens, eh?”
    â€œMais oui,” David’s father said. “Je préfère la façon qu’ils jouent.”
    David couldn’t understand what they were saying, but his father had told the man he liked the way the Canadiens played. Most English hockey fans in the city preferred the Montreal Wanderers, the city’s other professional team.
    â€œAnd ’oo’s this young fella with you?” the man asked.
    â€œ C’est mon fils, David. David, this is Henri Leduc.”
    Henri shook David’s hand. His grip was too strong and his breath smelled like cigarettes. “Quite a shiner you got dere, kid. You a hockey player?”
    David shook his head.
    â€œC’est sa première partie,” his father said.
    Henri grinned. “His first game, eh?”
    â€œIf we can get tickets …”
    Henri looked around slowly. “The Bulldogs are Stanley Cup champions … but for you, my friend …”
    He pulled out two tickets from inside his coat. “’Ow ’bout some seats near centre ice?”
    â€œCombien?” David’s father asked.
    â€œFive dollars for da pair.”
    David’s father glanced at the tickets. “They’re in the last row, and they sell for fifty cents apiece at the box office.”
    â€œ Oui , but da box office is sold out, no? And I could get five dollars for each of these tickets to see the Bulldogs.”
    Five dollars was a lot of money, but David could tell from the expressions on their faces that what Henri had told his father was true. Mr. Saifert agreed to pay.
    â€œ De rien , Mike. Enjoy the game, kid!”
    David waved at Henri, then he and his father rejoined the crowd making its way into the Arena lobby. Mr. Saifert recognized some of the other men inside and spoke to them in French, as well. David just stared. He hadn’t known his father could speak the language.
    â€œA working man in this city has to speak some French,” his father explained. “Only rich businessmen can get by without it.”
    It had been cold out, but it was warm inside the Arena, so David started to unbutton his coat.
    â€œKeep it on,” his father told him. “And your hat and gloves, too. The lobby’s heated, but the rink isn’t. It’s got to be cold or the ice would melt.”
    His father was right. It was almost as cold inside the playing area as it had been outside. Even bundled up in winter clothes, it took a little something extra to stay warm while sitting in the seats of a hockey rink.
    â€œWhat are those people holding?” David asked.
    â€œBaked potatoes,” his father told him.
    David laughed.
    â€œIt’s true! A hot potato can keep your hands warm all game. It’s too bad we live so far away, or I’d have had your mother make some for us, too.”
    Fortunately, the Arena rented blankets for people to use during the game. They cost twenty-five cents. David’s father paid for one and spread it across both of them when they sat in their seats. Being in the last of the Arena’s twelve rows, they were pretty high, but they were near the centre so the view was good. David had never seen so many people in one place before. There were enough seats for six thousand people, and space for several thousand more in the