Page 1 of Against the Odds
CHAPTER 1
CALLUM
The Cardinals pulled their goalie and came at us with everything they had, desperate to even up the score in the final minutes of the game.
Bring it, motherfuckers.Lowering my stance, I tracked the puck through a screen of players in front of my net. The Cardinals’ centre got off a high slapshot I denied with my blocker. Their right wing jabbed at the rebound, but I dove and smothered the puck under me. The winger muttered something and dug into my ribs with the blade of his stick, accidentally-on-purpose, as the play was whistled dead.
“Fuck you!” I pushed to my feet and tipped my mask back, glaring at him. “Trying to disembowel me?”
The refs weren’t looking our way. Hobbes, our captain, tapped my shoulder as he swung past. “Be cool, Fitzer, right?”
I shrugged him off, but let the winger skate away without retribution. Taking a penalty now would be stupid. I knew that. Even though the ref really should’ve called that winger for spearing.
Asshole.I stretched cautiously, feeling a tug under my ribs where he’d poked me, and settled my mask into place.
Hobbes failed to win the faceoff, and the Cardinals buzzed around me again like ravenous mosquitoes. “Tiki, your left!” I called, directing our defenseman to a Cardinal who was momentarily open. Tiki got his stick onto the incoming pass and cleared the puck down the ice.
Not into the open net, sadly, but he gave me a moment of breathing space as the Cardinals reorganized, changed shifts, and headed back my way. Three more rapid shots tested me as they put the pressure on, but I was in the zone, and a minute later, the buzzer sounded on our one-nothing win.
My teammates mobbed me. Helmet bumps and head pats and hugs— I lived for being the hero. The Cardinals had outshot us by a wide margin, but we were walking off the ice with the win. Hobbes slung his long arm around me in a sideways hug. “That’s what we call goaltending!”
The crowd cheered us as we headed off the ice. A member of the game ops staff grabbed me and Docker, who scored our lone goal, to be first and second stars of the game, along with one of the Cards in third. When it was my turn, I did a quick lumbering skate around the ice, soaking in the cheers because yep, not too proud to enjoy that shit. They hauled out the T-shirt cannon for me, so I scanned the audience, spotted a group of girls with a rainbow sign for Docker, and sent the shirt flying their way. They didn’t know that sign was for me too. Docker had been out as gay for over a year, but he still got audience support.
Got nasty shit too, of course, which was one reason I kept my head down.
Then after the “How did it feel to get the shutout?” stupid first-star questions on the ice, our local Surrey sports reporter waved me over for a sit-down interview. Not my favourite thing, but part of the package. I said nice, noncommittal stuff about our opponents and tried not to gloat over shutting them out. Sheasked, “It looked like you had a beef with Cardinals right winger Zobrowski in the closing minute. What was that about?”
I shrugged it off. “Just chirping. No big.” Maybe the cameras had caught that little dig into my ribs with his stick blade, maybe they hadn’t. Last year, I’d have called him out, but I was working hard to not let my temper derail me this year. We were winning, I was playing great. I didn’t want the Vancouver Dragons to see me as trouble. I wanted that call-up to the NAPH team like I wanted to breathe.
The locker room was a cheerful place when I finally arrived. I got fist bumps and high fives as I headed to my locker to strip off and shower. Under the water, I poked at my side with a finger, wincing as the bruise twinged.Gonna be colourful soon. Motherfucking asshole Zobrowski.But it didn’t feel bad enough to see the trainer.
As I toweled off and began dressing, my phone rang in my locker. That was Grandpa’s ringtone, so I answered in my underwear. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Are you coming by the store before the funeral tomorrow?”
I almost said,What funeral?Then I remembered Grandpa’s east-side neighbour was being laid to rest. Mrs. Evans. I hadn’t liked her much, but Grandpa talked to her pretty often. Grandpa had never met a person he couldn’t see the good side of. I’d go for his sake. “I can stop by the store.” We had early practice, but no game, and the funeral was in the afternoon. “You need something?”
“Got a few things on high shelves I’ll let you get down for me.”
That was fair enough since I was six foot three. “Sure thing.”
“And could you pick up the flowers for Mrs. Evans on your way?”
Flowers?I knew money was tight, but sure, trust Grandpa to do the right thing. “Give me the info and I’ll do it.” If they weren’tpaid for, I’d pay too. Grandpa never wanted to take my money and sure, the PHL paid crap, but I still had a little spare cash. I owed him more than I could ever repay. Buying a few flowers for a funeral was a drop in the bucket.
“I don’t know what will happen to little Josiah Evans,” Grandpa went on. “He’s such a quiet kid, I worry.”
“How old is he these days?” I hadn’t lived at home since summer after my last year of juniors, five years back. The neighbour kid had been in elementary then.
“Twelve,” Grandpa said. “A tough time to lose your last parent.”
I’d lost both of mine at age nine.Is there a not-tough time?Still, I felt for the kid. “What about Zeke? Is he there?” Zeke Evans was Josiah’s older half-brother. He’d been three years ahead of me in school, and gone off to college and then joined the Vancouver police. After my ninth-grade year, spent pretending not to drool over eighteen-year-old Zeke in the hallways, our paths hadn’t crossed much. Maybe a brief hello if we were both out shoveling snow at the holidays. I was more likely to be busted by the cops than join them. We didn’t have anything in common.
“Yeah, Zeke’s here. A bunch of Mrs. Evans’ Ontario relatives too.”
“Zeke will take care of his brother.” He’d always been disgustingly competent about almost everything.
“I’m sure. Still, it’s hard, suddenly being in charge of a child.” He quickly added, “I don’t mean you. You were a joy from day one.”
