Ice Time by David Skuy Read Free Book Online Page A

Ritchie was in a white coat standing in front of a big building.
    “Is this a picture of where you work?” Rocket asked.
    Ritchie slapped Rocket on the back and laughed loudly. “This is from home, when I was younger. We are from El Salvador. Have you heard of it?”
    “It’s in Central America,” Rocket said, “surrounded by Guatemala, Nicaragua and Honduras.”
    Ritchie looked shocked.
    “I was on the school trivia team for a few years,” Rocket said. “I’m a bit of a trivia geek.”
    “I am very impressed. Young people usually have not heard of my country, and they never know where it is located.”
    Rocket pointed a finger gun at Ritchie. “Capital city — San Salvador.”
    “You are correct. Very good knowledge of geography. We arrive in this country four years ago. It was hard until we learned English — my English is still not so good. But my children speak perfect, and my wife is very good also.” He shrugged. “I work as a cleaner for a big company, and I also do the job of superintendent of this building. So, you would like to see the room, yes?”
    “Okay,” Rocket said, going with it. He’d been imagining his own apartment, but he was used to living with families.
    Ritchie led him down a short hallway into the living room. “
Mi amor
, come meet Bryan,” Ritchie called out.
    A woman came out of the kitchen drying her hands on a dish towel. She was small and slight, like Ritchie, but more delicate looking. Her eyes were striking: a deep blue, with a thin ring of bluish green on the outside. She was pretty, but she looked tired.
    She was also oddly familiar. Rocket couldn’t place her at first. Then he remembered, the cleaner at the arena, upstairs by the Racers’ office.
    She offered him a brief smile and seemed to recognize him, too. “We have been talking about taking in a boarder.” She spoke with an accent like Ritchie, but her voice was softer.
    “Bryan is a hockey player. He is playing for the Racers,” Ritchie said.
    A young boy came running out of a bedroom.
    “You play for the Racers? Cool,” he said. “What position? Have you played in the NHL? How many goals did you get last year?”
    “One question at a time, Rafa,” Ritchie said, his eyes dancing. “Please excuse my young son. He is what you call a hockey fanatic.”
    “That’s good. We’ll get along then,” Rocket said. “I’m a hockey fanatic, too.”
    “Leona, come say hello,” Ritchie said.
    Leona peered out of a bedroom, her lips curled in a mischievous smile.
    “This is my little angel,” Ritchie said. “She has five years.”
    “Papá, in English you say, ‘She is five years old,’” Rafa said. “It’s not like in Spanish.”
    Ritchie laughed. “I am always forgetting. And Rafa is seven years old.”
    “Good, Papá,” Leona said. “That was perfect.”
    “So, answer my questions,” Rafa said to Rocket. He looked ready to explode with excitement.
    “Enough, Rafa,” his mom said. “Ricardo, you should show Bryan the room.”
    “Yes, yes, come with me,” Ritchie said, pulling Rocket’s arm.
    He opened the door and Rocket peered inside. It was a small room, not much bigger than a closet, really. The bed took up almost the entire space, but there was a big window. Posters of hockey players covered the walls.
    “So, you will stay here,” Ritchie said. “Two meals are included in the rent: breakfast and dinner. We are not often here for lunch. The children are at school, and we are working. The rent is $550 a month. Is that fair?”
    The other places were two to three times higher, and they didn’t come with food — or a bed.
    “When would I be able to move in?” Rocket asked. “I’m staying in a hotel right now …”
    “Oh, that is too much money,” said Ritchie. “The room is ready. If you like, you can move in tonight.”
    Rocket would save a ton of money living here. The location sucked, but so what if he had to take the bus? He was used to it. Ritchie and his family