Winter Hawk Star Read Online Free Page B

other.
    â€œYou didn’t see me chasing down a van, did you? You didn’t see me getting thank-you hugs from Sam.”
    I still couldn’t believe I’d actually faced down two guys with switchblades. I didn’texpect anyone on the team to believe it either. They’d probably laugh at me. I preferred to be invisible. A person could stay out of trouble that way.
    â€œHow many times do I have to tell you it wasn’t a big deal,” I said. “Sam was probably just happy to get her brother back and—”
    The piercing blast of Coach Estleman’s whistle interrupted me.
    â€œYou clowns going to gab all afternoon?” Coach asked as he skated toward us. “Or are you ready to play?”
    â€œReady to play,” I said. “Sorry, Coach.”
    â€œPlay?” Riley Judd said. He pushed his helmet back and looked me directly in the face. “Play? I’m ready to put on a show.”
    I sure hoped he wouldn’t. For the first half hour, we had skated hard during this practice. We had then spent twenty minutes in shooting drills and another twenty minutes in passing drills. Now we would finish with half an hour of scrimmage. Reds against blues—half the team against the other half in a game situation.
    During the entire scrimmage, our fourthline would play against the first line. When we rested, the second and third lines would play each other. We would continue to alternate until the end of the scrimmage.
    I wore a red jersey. Riley Judd wore blue. If Riley did put on a show, it would be directly against us reds. Worse, Riley was my man to guard. If he played great, the person looking like a fool would be me.
    It didn’t take him long to embarrass me.
    The puck went into their end. Riley took a pass from the defenseman and skated directly toward me with the puck.
    I must have been frowning with concentration, because he glanced at my face and laughed.
    â€œNot a chance,” he said. “Watch this.”
    He faked a pass to his center. I didn’t go for the fake. It would have been better if I had.
    Instead of trying to slide the puck past me, Riley snapped a quick hard wrist shot into the middle of my belly.
    â€œOof,” I said, clutching myself as the puck dropped between my skates.
    Riley snaked his stick ahead of him, pushed the puck all the way through my skates, cut around me and cruised down the boards. His laughter echoed throughout the empty arena.
    His wasn’t the only laughter though. The rest of the guys found it funny too.
    I wish that had been the only time he made me look dumb.
    But no, it seemed every time he touched the puck, he had another unbelievable move that suckered me.
    In a way though, I had to admire him. At ice level, playing against him, I was able to understand what made him a superstar, although just by looking at him, you wouldn’t think he was one of the greats. He wasn’t as big as most of the players. He wasn’t as fast. He didn’t have an overpowering shot.
    Instead he seemed to have a sixth sense that told him where everybody was on the ice. It was like all ten skaters were players on a chessboard, and he knew every move each of them would make and where the puck would go.
    Along with his uncanny ability to read each developing play, he could also handle the puck as if it were nailed to the end of his hockey stick. He didn’t need to be big or fast or overpowering. He slipped and slid through a crowd of players like oil poured through marbles, and when he reached open ice on the other side of the crowd, the puck would still be on his stick.
    It was actually fun to watch him. Although it would have been nice to have him on my line instead of against me.
    No matter what I did, he got past me. He scored ten goals during the scrimmage.
    I don’t usually get frustrated. Trouble was, every time he beat me, he laughed.
    With two minutes left in the scrimmage, it was the same old situation. Puck