Free Line Change by W. C. Mack

waited for her to finish.
    “Not bad,” she said, once she’d marked the spot.
    I spun around but didn’t open my eyes until I was facing the wall. The new mark was higher than the last one, but not by much.
    Great.
    “A pinch,” I told her, frowning.
    “A smidge,” she said, ruffling my hair. “You’ll get there.”
    “When I’m eighty?”
    “Look at your sister,” Mum said, with a shrug.
    Sure, Wendy was hoping she wouldn’t hit six feet before she graduated from high school, but she’d never had to wait for a growth spurt. She’d been tall all along.
    It wasn’t fair.
    At that moment, the doorbell rang and Wendy ran to answer it, which meant it had to be Shane. As I carried my tray of snacks into the living room, I ignored the slurpy kissing noises.
    Gross.
    “Ready?” Dad asked, as I put the tray on the coffee table and flopped onto my favourite side of the couch.
    “Definitely,” I told him, grinning. I loved watching games with Dad because we both got totally into it.
    Sometimes we cheered, sometimes we screamed, and sometimes we even ended up rolling on the floor and kicking our feet.
    What can I say? We were fans.
    Just as I grabbed a handful of popcorn, Wendy and Shane walked in.
    “Hockey game, Mr. McDonald?” Shane asked.
    Duh.
    “We’re about to destroy Colorado,” I told him.
    “How are things going with the coaching?” Shane asked, totally ignoring me.
    Bosko told me he ignored almost everybody.
    Except Wendy.
    “Pretty well, I think,” Dad said.
    “Cool,” Shane said, nodding. “My little brother’s digging it.” I almost laughed, amazed to hear anyone call the only kid in grade six with a mustache “little.”
    “Do you two want to join us?” Dad asked, starting to make room on the couch.
    “No way,” Wendy said, rolling her eyes.
    “Thanks, anyway,” Shane said. “I’m not much of a hockey fan.”
    “That’s right,” Dad nodded. “You’re a rugby guy.”
    “No pads,” Shane shrugged, like that made him some kind of a superhero. “No helmets.”
    “No brains,” I muttered.
    “What did you just say?” Wendy asked.
    I could tell by the look in her eyes that if she couldn’t pin me right then, she’d definitely do it later.
    “Nothing,” I said, shoving a handful of popcorn past my lips.
    Mum might have thought snacks would be the death of me, but that night a mouthful probably saved my life.

Chapter Ten
    On Monday morning, I woke up for practice with a huge smile. Our big win guaranteed that my teammates would be on board with Dad’s coaching, my own four goals were a career high for me, and I was ahead of Bosko by a goal.
    Nugget McDonald takes the lead!
    Awesome?
    Oh, yeah.
    I sang to myself in the shower, but very quietly, so I wouldn’t wake Wendy up. I didn’t need a perfectly good morning ruined by the crabbiest teenager on the planet.
    As I dried off and got dressed, I cut the singing back to humming.
    Practice was going to be just like I imagined, with me and Dad as joint heroes.
    Never mind the fact that all of my homework was done. I’d understood every bit of my Math assignment (except for three of the questions, but still) and I’d finished the book we were reading for English class a whole week early.
    Mrs. Foster had continued to freak out every timeI raised my hand to answer her questions in class. It should have gotten old by then, but she was still surprised that I’d turned my study habits around.
    I was amazed how much I liked reading now, and not just hockey books. The one we’d been reading in class was about a kid who had to choose between his two best friends, who were going in totally different directions.
    When I thought about how things had been going between Dad and the Cougars, I could totally “identify,” as Mrs. Foster would say. But luckily I wasn’t like the kid in the book. Thanks to the weekend win, I didn’t have to choose sides.
    We were all on the same team again.
    I joined Dad in the kitchen, where a