Free Face-Off by Matt Christopher

1
    W atch out for the falls!”
    The yell came from one of the two boys standing on the bank beside the frozen pond.
    Scott Harrison, skating past a marker—one of two large rocks placed about twenty feet apart on the ice—glanced at the edge
     of the pond some thirty feet away, and heard the roar of the falls in the clear, silent air. He grinned. No chance!
    He turned as sharply as he could around the marker, noticing that Pete Sewell, the kid he was racing, had just reached hismarker. And he had given Pete a twenty-foot handicap, too!
    Scott sped down the pond and reached the spot on the ice opposite Cathy, his younger sister, who was refereeing the race.
    “The winner!” Cathy yelled, lifting her hands and jumping up on the toes of her skates.
    Scott jumped and spun in midair, landing on one skate. He saw Pete cross the invisible line about five feet away and grinned.
    “Well,” said Pete, skating up to where Scott had stopped beside Cathy, “you did it again.”
    “You just won’t give up, will you, Pete?” Cathy laughed.
    Pete’s blue eyes twinkled. “One of these days!” he said.
    Scott remembered the warning cry from one of the boys on the bank and looked up there. They were sitting on a bench and puttingon skates. Even at this distance Scott could see that the skates were the tube kind used in hockey.
    “Who are those guys, Scott?” asked Pete.
    “I don’t know, but they go to our school,” said Scott.
    “The shorter one is Del Stockton,” said Cathy. “I’ve heard Bev talk about him.”
    Bev was Judy Kerpa’s sister, and Judy was Cathy’s friend.
    “Who’s the tall, skinny kid?” asked Scott.
    “I don’t know.”
    Scott dug the toe of his right skate into the ice and skated off toward the center,. whipping first to the left and then swinging
     in a circle around to the right and back again in a beautiful figure eight.
    “Hey, Scott! Wait a minute!”
    Scott pulled up short and saw the two boys skating toward him. The shorter one, Del Stockton, waved.
    They pulled up in front of Scott, ice chips flying as they came to a quick stop. “Hi!” said the shorter of the two. “I’m Del
     Stockton and this is Skinny McCay. I’ve seen you at our school.”
    “I’ve seen you, too,” said Scott, wondering how they knew his name.
    “Mind racing with me?”
    Scott looked at him in surprise. Del was his height and a few pounds lighter. “Why?”
    Del grinned and shrugged. His cheeks were pink from the cold. “Okay. Forget it.”
    He started to sprint away when Cathy piped up, “Race with him, Scott.”
    Del must have heard her, for he quickly stopped and headed back toward them, skating backwards. He was fast, Scott saw, as
     fast skating backwards as some kids were skating frontwards. Scott glared at Cathy, thinking,
You had to open your big mouth.
    “We’re not betting money,” explained Del. “It’s just for fun.”
    “Go ahead, Scott,” urged Cathy. “If there’s no bet, what’re you afraid of?”
    Scott shot another glaring look at her. One thing about Cathy: for a young squirt she wasn’t afraid to say what she thought.
     Nor, sometimes, did she care whom she embarrassed. Like now.
    “Aw, Del,” Skinny McCay spoke up for the first time. “He’s bashful. Let him alone.”
    “Yeah, okay.” Del grinned again. “Forget it, Scott. I shouldn’t have asked.”
    He started away again, but hadn’t gone more than a yard when Scott stopped him. “Okay. I’ll race with you.”
    “Good!” Del swung around in a half-circle and came to a quick stop in front of Scott. “You pick out the starting point and
     the finish line.”
    “Down here,” Cathy said, and led the group a short distance down the ice to the spot where Scott had started his race with
     Pete Sewell. It was between two trees that stood opposite each other on the banks flanking the pond.
    “Down around those two rocks and back,” said Del. “Okay?”
    “Okay,” echoed Scott. “Give us the count,