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in while the washing machine was going.”
    We scrambled to get out of our gear. Most of us wore long johns beneath our equipment to absorb the sweat. We replaced what we could with the clothing we had worn to the game. It helped, but only a little.
    We played like a crippled team in the third period. With one minute left in the game, the Raiders scored to tie.
    I remembered how mad I had been in English class when Mr. Palmer taunted me about the team’s losing streak. No one would understand why we gave up this four-goal lead, because itchy long johns was probably an excuse we would keep to ourselves.
    “Jason,” I said as we skated onto the ice for the last shift of the game, “I don’t care what it takes. Get me the puck.”
    He grinned. “It’s yours, pal.”
    He kept his promise.
    Mancini lost the face-off, and the puck squirted ahead to the Raiders’ winger. The winger moved toward Jason, and Jason bumped him into the boards, found the puck and fired it across the ice to me.
    I only had eyes for the Raiders’ net. I broke past their other winger and had full speed as I reached the Raiders’ blue line. Mancini and Shertzer broke wide as we crossed into their end. One of their defensemen drifted over to cover them. It left me alone with only one guy to beat. I ducked my head like I was going to cut inside, pushed one step outside, then moved back in toward the center.
    The double fake worked. It gave me a split-second opening, and I took advantage of it by pounding a slap shot. It dinged the post and kicked straight out toward Shertzer. The goalie tried to spin himself in Shertzer’s direction but didn’t have time. Shertzer bangedthe puck into the wide-open side of the net.
    Bingo!
    The crowd erupted like a volcano, and we skated off the ice with a victory. The way we danced around and celebrated in the dressing room made it look like we’d won the Stanley Cup, not just broken a losing streak.
    My joy didn’t last long though. When I walked out to the parking lot, I passed Assistant Coach Kimball’s construction company truck. It was loaded with lumber. And with rolls of mesh wire. And with one other thing I hadn’t noticed earlier.
    Fiberglass insulation.

chapter nine
    Very few of the players on the Red Deer Rebels actually came from Red Deer. Our hometowns were other places, mainly across the western Canadian provinces. During the season we stayed with Red Deer families who took us in.
    These families were called billets. The Rebels paid them for our rent and groceries, but billets didn’t expect to make money off us. As hockey players, we ate a lot.
    Instead, billet families usually loved hockey and wanted to help out. They did their best to make us feel at home. My own billets, the Henrys, were no different.
    That’s why I was surprised when lunch was quiet the day after we beat the Prince Albert Raiders.
    There were just the three of us sitting in the sunlight of their dining room: me, Mr. Henry and his wife.
    The dining room was my favorite room in the house. The Henrys lived in the part of Red Deer known as Sunnybrook, and their house was on the edge of a park. The dining room had large glass patio doors, and it overlooked trees on a steep hill that led down to a small creek. Some mornings, when I got up early and sat there in the quiet, I would see deer wander up to the fence of the backyard.
    I was into my second tuna sandwich, and neither Mr. Henry nor his wife had asked me a single question about the game.
    I took my eyes away from the trees and blue sky and looked over at them.
    They were staring at me. Not eating. Just staring.
    I looked behind me to see if a couple of deer had appeared or if a blue jay had landed on the bird feeder just outside the patio doors. Maybe that had their attention.
    Nope. Nothing behind me.
    I looked back at them. They were still staring in my direction. Still saying nothing.
    “Excuse me,” I said.
    They nodded.
    I went to the bathroom to see if I was growing