Line Change Read Online Free PDF Page A

shot on an empty net.
    I made every shot but one.
    Bosko never missed.
    Of course, the guy had kind of become my friend, and he was still helping me a ton with Math, but that only made it more important for me to beat him on the ice.
    After all, he seemed to be able to beat me everywhere else.
    By the time we got through a set of line drills, skating as fast as we could to a cone marker, then back to the goal line, then out to a farther cone and back, and then even farther and back, I was dripping with sweat.
    Line drills were one of the toughest things to do, andpractically killed me every time, but I knew how much they helped my speed.
    Dad blew the whistle and we met him at centre ice.
    “Nice work, guys,” he said, smiling. “We’ll see you Wednesday morning.”
    Everybody froze, dead quiet.
    What was he doing?
    I glanced at the clock and when I saw that our time was up, my jaw dropped along with everyone else’s.
    “What about the scrimmage?” Kenny asked.
    That was all it took for at least five other guys to start asking.
    “We should be able to fit one in at Wednesday’s practice,” Dad said, as if that was totally acceptable.
    He started scooping up orange cones.
    “
Should?
” Patrick asked.
    “Provided we get through everything else,” Dad said, nodding.
    “But —”
    “Anyway, you really did a great job today and I’m already looking forward to next practice. See you then.” He blew the whistle one last time and skated off the ice.
    “What?” Kenny asked the rest of us. “What about the scrimmage? We
always
end with the scrimmage. It’s the best part of practice!”
    He was right, of course, but none of the other guys said a word.
    I had the sinking feeling they were saving it for the locker room.

Chapter Four
    I hung around on the ice for a couple of minutes, wondering what my teammates were going to say. I was as shocked about skipping the scrimmage as everyone else and I wished Dad had done things differently.
    Of course, I couldn’t avoid talking to the guys forever, so I took a deep breath and headed for the hallway. I could hear a bunch of voices in the locker room, and let out the breath before walking in.
    Colin was in the middle of saying something, but he stopped when he saw me. In fact, all the guys turned and stared (except Bosko, who was doing his own thing, as usual).
    I pulled my bag onto the bench and dug out my jeans and stuff for school, waiting for someone to say something.
    Anything.
    “What’s the deal with your dad?”
    Except that.
    I looked at Colin and tried to figure out the best way to handle the situation.
    “What do you mean?” I asked, hoping that playing dumb might work.
    “Why didn’t we get to scrimmage?” he asked.
    I shrugged. “I guess the other stuff just took up all our time.”
    “But we’re here to play hockey, not do stupid drills,” Jeff said.
    Nuts. I thought he’d be on my side.
    But was I even on my side?
    I was just as disappointed as everybody else about how practice ended. But saying so would be going against Dad, and I didn’t want to do that.
    “I know —” I started to say, but Bosko cut me off.
    “Drills aren’t stupid,” he said quietly.
    He could have whispered and the rest of the guys would have stopped to listen. After all, everybody respected Bosko, and not just because he was a giant.
    “But we can’t spend
all
our time on them,” Colin argued.
    “If they help our game, we can,” Bosko said, then lifted his bag onto his shoulder and walked out of the locker room.
    The guys all stood there for a second or two, probably trying to decide whether they should say Bosko was wrong.
    Kenny glanced at me, then back at Colin, waiting to see who would say something.
    Nobody did. Instead, we all just changed for school and packed our bags, like normal.
    Whew.
    That is, until I walked out of the locker room and stopped in the hallway to listen.
    The first thing I heard was Colin saying, “Those drills were a