Free Rebel Power Play by David Skuy

routine. Early mornings don’t agree with me.”
    His mom ruffled his hair and kissed him on the cheek before heading upstairs.
    He pushed the bowl of porridge aside. He couldn’t do it. Maybe he could force down a banana. Besides, he was nervous about speaking to Mike. It was obviousMike wasn’t his biggest fan. He’d have to think of something to say — and he had about thirty minutes to do it.
    * * *
    Charlie kicked a clump of dirt along the sidewalk as he made his way to school along the dark and empty streets. A voice startled him.
    “Charlie, what’s up?”
    It was Dylan.
    “How’s it going?” he said.
    “Not bad. What’s got into you? School doesn’t start for over an hour. You want to make sure you’re on time for once?”
    His lateness was becoming a school joke. He promised himself he’d start leaving earlier.
    “Nah — don’t want to mess with a good thing. I’m actually on my way to speak to your best friend about the hockey team.”
    “Best friend?”
    “Mike Dunn.”
    Dylan laughed. “Sorry I can’t join you. Band practice.” He held up a large case.
    “What do you play?”
    “Bass guitar. Jazz band. Once a week we meet with Mr. Parker.”
    Charlie liked music. He’d taken piano lessons as a kid, but he’d never gotten into it. He’d rarely practised, and eventually his mom stopped the lessons.
    “That’s cool. I didn’t know you played.”
    “You haven’t heard me yet. Reserve your judgment.”
    “I’m sure you’re good. That’s just your modest streak.” He kicked the clump of dirt to Dylan, whopassed it back. “How’re the Tigers this year?” he said.
    “Let’s say average. We got thumped pretty bad by the Snow Birds — that’s one awesome team. They’ve got J.C. Savard up front, Burnett on D, Alexi in goal, and the rest of them can play too. We did have a serious game against
your
best friend last night.”
    “Best friend?”
    “Jake Wilkenson and the Wildcats.”
    This time Charlie laughed.
    “Those guys are crazed,” Dylan said. “Dirtiest team I ever played. Their coach is the worst. He tells his players to fight and spear — wait till you play them. We must have had three fights, and I think four guys from each team got kicked out.”
    Pudge had told Charlie all about the Wildcats’ coach, Don Schultz. His teams invariably led the league in penalties. Some parents hated him, but others liked him because he produced winning teams.
    “I guess Jake and Schultz were made for each other,” Charlie said.
    “Watch yourself when you play them,” Dylan said.
    “I’ll be okay.”
    “I heard about your little encounter the other day — he’s out to get you.”
    Charlie pretended indifference. “Not much I can do about that.”
    The school came into view.
    “See you later,” Dylan said. “I go around the back.” He took a few steps and turned around. “And don’t forget to say hi to Mike for me.”
    Charlie grinned and waved goodbye.
    Interesting guy, he thought — always had somethingon the go. Charlie had major respect for anyone who could play an instrument. He took a seat on a bench near the parking lot. Mike came from that direction. He pulled out a book and began to read. He was so engrossed he didn’t notice the time pass, and so was shocked to hear the warning bell. Mike still hadn’t shown up. Just his luck! The one day he got up early Mike came late. What a waste of time.
    He was about to give up when he saw Dunn’s sports car speed past. Mike had barely closed the door before Dunn put it in reverse. He flew out of the parking lot and spun the car in the street to go forward, an impressive bit of driving that made the tires screech and attracted a lot of attention from the students gathered in front of the school. Charlie steeled himself and jogged over.
    “Hey, Mike, you got a minute?” he said, in as pleasant a tone as he could muster.
    Mike narrowed his eyes. “I guess. What do you want?”
    “I want to talk to you about