Roller Hockey Radicals by Matt Christopher Read Free Book Online

started pacing the dining
     room floor. “I’m only a sub, of course, but I know they’re going to play me, just ’cause they want to see if I can skate and
     stuff.”
    “Sit down and eat your dinner, honey,” his mom said. “You’re going to need to build up your strength.”
    “Oh. Yeah. Right,” Kirby said distractedly. Hesat down and ate, thinking only of the big game.
    He could see it now. He would have the puck, and that big kid from Bates Avenue, Spike, would come barreling toward him, elbows
     out. Kirby would duck at the last minute, and the guy would go flying! Kirby wouldn’t even look back until he’d smashed a
     goal past that other kid — the one who’d called him a geek. Yeah. That’s what he was going to do. He was going to make them
     pay.…
    “Kirby?” His dad was tapping him on the arm.
    “Score!” Kirby shouted. “I mean — what, Dad?”
    “Eat your dinner, son,” his dad said. “You can dream after you go to bed, okay?”
    Kirby decided that his dad was right. What he needed to do with his waking time, between now and Saturday, was to practice.
     He wanted to make himself ready for the big game in every possible way.
    The next day, Marty came over and spentalmost the whole day. First he helped Kirby tape up his stick properly, so it wouldn’t crack and so Kirby would be able to
     handle the puck better.
    When they were done, they went out and practiced in Kirby’s driveway, where it widened out for the basketball court. Marty
     showed Kirby some cool moves with and without the puck, including one where he turned 360 degrees around the defender, picking
     the puck up again on the other side.
    “Where’d you learn all those moves?” Kirby wanted to know.
    “From a videotape.”
    “Do you still have it?”
    “Are you kidding?” Marty laughed. “I brought it with me.”
    “All right! Man, I hope I get to play on Saturday.”
    “You’ll play,” Marty said. “I’m the captain, remember?” He grinned and clapped Kirby on the shoulder pad.
    Just then, a car horn sounded behind them. “There’s my mom. I’ve got to go to practice,” Marty said.
    Kirby sighed. “Say hi for me. Tell them I’ll see them at the game.”
    Marty nodded and skated to the curb. “Keep practicing!” he called out before getting in. “Because you’re going to play!”
    By the time Saturday morning arrived, Kirby had watched the video ten or twelve times. He felt like he was as ready as he’d
     ever be. But he was so nervous, he didn’t talk much to his parents over breakfast, and thankfully they didn’t try to make
     him talk.
    Around eleven, they all piled into the old station wagon and headed for the industrial area down by the tracks, just the other
     side of downtown. “That’s Bates Avenue,” Kirby told his parents as they passed it.
    “Is that the team you’re playing?” his mom asked.
    “Yeah. The Bates Avenue Bad Boys,” Kirby said.
    “Whew. Sounds menacing,” his dad remarked.
    “Oh, come on, honey, it’s just a name,” his mom said with a laugh.
    Kirby tried to laugh, too. The last thing he wanted was for his parents to worry about his safety. But the truth was, Kirby
     himself was starting to feel distinctly scared.
    He knew that it was against the rules of in-line roller hockey to bodycheck. But he also guessed that if any team was likely
     to cheat, it was the Bates Avenue Bad Boys. And who better for them to pick on than the little kid they thought was a geek?
    Kirby’s mom pulled the car over beside the parking lot. The lot had a rusty, six-foot-high chain-link fence all around it,
     to keep people from parking their cars there. Kirby figured it was because the town wanted to make money from the parking
     meters and didn’t want to let people park for free.
    Inside, someone had sketched out a rink with chalk. The chalk oval was about 180 feet long and 80 feet wide, and the chain-link
     fence bordered it on two sides. On the other sides, plastic curbs had