Free Line Change by W. C. Mack Page B

for ice time.”
    “And that isn’t cheap,” Mrs. Fullerton added.
    “You’re absolutely right,” Dad agreed, nodding. “I traded our time with another team for today. We’ll get an extra hour of ice at the next practice. It’ll be an early morning on Wednesday, but we’ll get our time in.”
    Two hours on the ice? Cool! I couldn’t help grinning. Maybe Dad had a good plan after all.
    “I see,” Mrs. Simpson said, glancing at Mrs. Fullerton, who nodded. “Well, that sounds perfectly reasonable. My husband will be glad to hear it.” She smiled. “He was pretty worked up about it last night.”
    “Mine too,” Mrs. Fullerton said. “I’ll pass it on.”
    *   *   *
    “A run?” Kenny gasped, when I broke the news in the locker room. “But —”
    “This is
hockey
,” Jeff interrupted. “Not gym class.”
    It was exactly what I’d been trying to tell Dad at the house. “But it’s going to help us.”
    “Has your dad gone totally nuts?” Colin asked.
    I didn’t know what to say. Half the time, I was wondering the same thing and I wished we could just go back to the way Coach O’Neal ran practice. And the other half of the time I didn’t want to go against my own dad in front of the guys. And of course a two-hour practice wouldbe awesome.
    “He’s not nuts,” I told them. “He knows what he’s doing.”
    “It doesn’t seem like it,” Jeff said, through a hunk of beef jerky.
    “Did you guys already forget that we won our last game?” I asked, trying to use Dad’s logic.
    “We would have won anyway,” Jeff said.
    “But maybe not by as many points,” I reminded him.
    “It
was
a record high,” Patrick said.
    Thank you!
    “A win is a win,” Jeff said. “We didn’t beat those guys because we jumped up and down at the last practice.”
    Since Dad was showing no sign of going back to the way things were, I knew I had to get the guys to support him. “Look, my dad has bigger plans for us.”
    “What’s that supposed to mean?” Colin asked.
    “He’s thinking long term, like winning the championship,” I said. “You guys only care about the next game.”
    “Yeah, but if we don’t think about the next game, we definitely won’t need to think about the championship.” Jeff snorted and his beef jerky fell on the floor. He picked it up and muttered “two-second rule” as he shoved it back into his mouth.
    “He’s got a bunch of ideas,” I told the guys, hoping to convince them to give Dad a chance. “He’s going to be moving us around and —”
    “Moving us around what?” Colin asked, suspiciously.
    “You know, changing positions and —”
    “Changing positions?” Kenny practically screamed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
    “Why didn’t you tell any of us?” Colin asked.
    Nuts!
    “I’m not changing positions,” Jeff said.
    “Me neither,” Colin agreed. “That’s stupid.”
    “I wouldn’t mind,” Chris said, practically drooling at the idea of getting out of goal.
    “Did you tell him it was a bad idea, Nugget?” Kenny asked.
    “Yeah … I mean, I tried to, but … look, you’re not listening to me,” I said, getting frustrated. “The whole point is Dad wants us to have a great
season
, not just a great game.”
    “Then he should let us practice and play. The same way we have for our whole stinkin’ lives,” Jeff said.
    “Yeah,” Kenny sighed. “Changing positions? That’s crazy.”
    I wanted to elbow him hard. He was supposed to back me up. “Come on, you guys,” I said. “I know it’s weird to be doing stuff differently, but —”
    “It’s two minutes to six,” Bedhead said, finally waking up. “Practice is starting.”
    “No,” Jeff said. “
Running
is starting.”
    “Huh?” Bedhead grunted.
    I guess his branch of the phone tree had broken off. He was the only guy in uniform.
    Colin double-knotted his shoelaces. “You know, it’s pretty awesome that we all got up at five this morning to play hockey, and now we’re