Undergrounders (2 page)

Bang!

I dropped to the floor in a panic and looked around real frantic. I’m dead, I thought. Lewis had told me about kid jail — he called it juvie, which is short for
juvenile detention. It’s where the cops put kids who are criminals. He’d been there when he was fourteen and he said it’s the worst place in the world — vicious guards and other kids pounding you, and no food, and work all the time.

Bang!

Then I had to laugh. The noise was the screen door blowing in the wind. What a doofus move to leave it open. I went back out and closed it tight, then tiptoed over to the stairs leading to the main floor. Keeping real low, I crept up and poked my head over the top step, feeling kind of like those woodchucks that I saw in a movie at school about nature. Me and James, who was my best friend, fired spitballs at Sophie Kelly until our teacher caught us. Boy, did we get in trouble.

Racks of hockey sticks blocked the window to the street, so I figured it was safe to check things out. At the back of the store they’d hung all the new skates on the wall like trophies. The skates were shiny, and the prices almost took my breath away. One pair cost $750. I could live forever on that kind of coin. Farther along a large sign read
Junior Section
. One pair was totally sick — Grafs — blacker than the rest with a silver line running along the sole. Even the blade was shiny. I took it down — light as a feather. I turned the price tag around so I could see it — $525. Unbelievable!

I knew it was wrong. I knew it was crazed. But I just had to have them. I tried to resist — I did — and even picked through some jerseys. But no chance. The idea of skating on that rink was too strong. There were tons
of skate boxes lined up against the wall. They wouldn’t even notice one missing. It didn’t take me too long to find the Grafs. I tried on a nine and it was huge. The eight was also big, so I took a seven and figured that would work. I was so freaked at what I was doing I thought my heart was going to explode.

I had already spotted this awesome Easton stick so I grabbed that, and then I saw hockey gloves hung on pegs near the front window. How great would new gloves be? I became like a total criminal and snagged a pair of red and blue ones. Then I saw this bin of winter mitts, and I needed those. Lucky they had some black bags with shoulder straps, and I stuffed all that junk into the bag. I knew I’d been here too long; time to make tracks, as Lewis said, before the cops came. Only I remembered I’d need a puck and stuffed one into the bag, along with a roll of stick tape, and finally a blue Maple Leafs hockey sweater.

But that’s not the worst thing I did. I nosed around the cash register and found a box with some money in it — a five-dollar bill. Jackpot! And to top it off, in the fridge there was this huge submarine sandwich and a can of Coke, and guess where that ended up!

I know stealing is wrong. My mom taught me that. My mom said she’d be looking down on me from heaven, which made me feel good usually. I prayed she was too busy right now to be watching. She sure wouldn’t be happy with me. But somehow I couldn’t stop myself.

In no time I was outside and tearing down the alley
as fast as I could. Even though I’m small, I’m fast. I stopped after I got back to the street and scarfed that sandwich, and the Coke disappeared in seconds. I had to keep reminding myself that this wasn’t a dream, that this was really happening. I had money, skates, a stick, gloves; I wasn’t even cold anymore. I hadn’t been warm, I mean really warm, in I don’t know how long.

I was beyond stoked when I thought about the skates. Instead of wandering the streets all day with nothing to do, I could go to the rink and skate and shoot the puck around.

So maybe I didn’t really hate hockey.

I went right back to the rink. If those boys were gone I was going to try these skates out, even if they weren’t sharpened. No chance I was going out with them there. I hadn’t played hockey in over a year, and I knew I’d completely suck. I walked across the parking lot and looked over the boards. It was all mine! The change room was off to the side of the rink, so I went in and sat in the corner.

Next second I couldn’t believe how dumb I’d been. Lewis said a street kid’s got to be on the lookout for trouble because it comes out of nowhere, and he was right. Those kids came back. They must have just finished playing and gone to the vending machines. I recognized the three kids who’d asked me for the puck.

“I’m gonna bomb out in Math tomorrow,” the big kid said. “Every time I tried to study I fell asleep.”

“That’s because you only tried once and then went to bed,” the friendly kid laughed.

The big kid didn’t get angry. “I’ll just sneak into the gifted class and cheat off your sister.”

“She’ll kick your butt if you try — but go for it.”

They punched fists. Obviously they were buds like me and Lewis. That big kid was really huge, almost as big as Lewis — and Lewis was sixteen. These kids didn’t
look older than me.

“You free tomorrow, Rasheed?” the angry kid asked the friendly kid.

“Yeah. We practise on Tuesday, so we can play here tomorrow after school.” He tugged on the big kid’s shirt. “Collin, you in?”

“Like I’m gonna miss a chance to dangle you? Of course I’m in.”

“Awesome. Derrick?” Rasheed asked the angry kid.

“Sounds good,” Derrick answered.

“So is everyone in?” Rasheed asked, and they all nodded.

I was putting on my skates the entire time, keeping my head down so they wouldn’t notice me. Lewis had warned me about getting too close to Reggies. Said they’ll turn on you and pound you something bad. I’d finished lacing up one skate when I noticed things got darker. I looked up. Rasheed was in front of me.

“Sorry. We just finished playing like five minutes ago. But we’re coming tomorrow after school. You should come out.”

Of course I couldn’t play with these guys, but he wasn’t moving, so I had to say something.

“Don’t think I can do it tomorrow. Got stuff goin’ on … tomorrow. Maybe.”

Rasheed shrugged. “Come out if you can. We could always use another skater.”

I assumed that was that, and began tying my other skate.

“Where do you go to school? I’ve never seen you around.”

Street kids learn to think quick. I was ready. “I’m not from around here. My family’s visiting my uncle. Got so boring I had to escape.”

Rasheed bought it. Lewis always said that Reggies believe anything.

“Awesome-looking skates,” he said. “Did you get them for Christmas?”

They obviously looked new. I pretended he’d figured it out. “Got new gloves too.” I held them up.

“Sweet gloves. Wish I had new ones.” He held his up — they were kind of old and beat-up.

“Come on, Rasheed. We’re going to Derrick’s.”

“I’m coming.” He nodded to me. “See you later. Our hockey team practises Tuesdays or Thursdays, and games are usually Friday or Saturday, and we’re here most other times.”

“Yeah … okay … maybe …”

That sounded so lame. Rasheed didn’t say anything mean, though. “Thanks for getting our puck,” was all, and as he left he called out, “That was our last one.”

It was strange how nervous I got around Reggies. I put it out of my mind and hit the ice. I didn’t do too badly, either, considering I hadn’t skated in so long and the skates weren’t sharpened. It might sound like bragging, but I was the star player on my team. When my mom still had a good job I played AA. I was a centre and scored a ton of goals. She couldn’t afford for me to play competitive last year, and then she got sick.

The skating came right back to me. Before long I was whizzing around. Then I got my stick and puck. It was rough at first. The puck wouldn’t behave and my stick was a bit long. I did okay after a while. Besides, this was better than hawking at the Market any day.

I don’t really know how long I skated — a few hours definitely. I could have kept going but my hands and feet were becoming ice blocks again. I blasted one more slapshot at the net.

Clang!

It pinged off the post — the sickest sound in the world. More fun hitting the post than scoring sometimes. Nice way to end it, I thought, and collected the puck and went in. The change room was empty. As soon as I sat down I got hungry again. The vending machines were torturing me because I didn’t have enough change. Usually, I ate a Chinese bun for dinner, but not tonight. I was going to get me a hot dog from the vendor in front of the train station.

“You need something for blisters.”

A man in a dark-green shirt and dirty overalls pointed at my feet. I noticed two huge blisters on the outside part of my feet.

“You should not skate so long. Bad for feet.”

His English wasn’t the best, but he was right about the blisters. They looked nasty.

“No big deal,” I said. “The skates are new. I gotta break them in better. Thanks.”

He shook his head, peering at me funny. His face was baggy and had little bumps and marks all over it,
and he had a thin scar over one of his eyes. “Not good skates,” he muttered, and left.

I figured he was the janitor or something. I ignored him and tossed my stuff into my bag. I was about to leave when he came back.

“Here.” He pushed a load of Band-Aids into my hand. “Use to make better.”

The blisters were stinging a bit. “Thanks,” I said, and put a couple on. He nodded and said, “My name Pavel. You ask if you need something.”

I needed tons of stuff. Pavel hardly seemed the type to give it to me. He didn’t look much better off than a Streeter himself. We talked a little and I found out he worked for the city as a janitor, going around to different rinks and community centres to clean up.

I said goodbye and hustled to the Market to see if I could hawk a bit of cash. On the way I stashed my stuff in my secret hiding spot behind the Theatre. There were these two huge metal garbage bins, and behind them were two window wells. Lewis had told me ages ago to find a secret hiding spot, and this was mine. I used it all the time and had never lost anything.

I wasn’t surprised to see the front door of the Market crawling with Streeters and Undergrounders. We had rules about crowding. Once you set up, no one could come within five metres without permission. Skidder had the front door, with Happy D and Fitzy. They were big kids and would never let me in. Creeper was at the side doors. He sometimes cut me some slack, so I went over with as friendly a smile as I could make.
His face was kind of angry, maybe because of the cold. But then he was usually in a bad mood.

“What’s up, Creeper? How’s the money flow?”

“It sucks big time,” he snarled back. “I ain’t got no time for you, Mouse. Get scarce.”

That didn’t go well. Once Creeper got like that there was no point trying to be nice. My last chance was the passage to the parking lot in the back. It was the worst spot. Lewis had told me that. People hate feeling bad about themselves and street kids depress them. They feel guilty about how much money they have, and especially guilty when they won’t give it to street kids. They feel real bad carrying bags of food from the Market, and the farther they walk away from the Market the worse they feel. So if you beg by the parking lot, you’ll have a killer time trying to get a slimy cent out of them.

I wasn’t too worried because of the five bucks in my pocket, and my hands and feet were freezing again. The Market was definitely slow today because after like twenty minutes maybe ten people walked by me, and they didn’t so much as turn to look my way.

A mom with two small kids headed toward me, the kids so bundled in snowsuits all I could see were their tiny noses sticking out. Moms almost never give to street kids, and absolutely never when they had little kids with them. Best target is a guy with a lady; the guy will want to show off.

One of the kids pulled on his mom’s coat.

In a whisper I heard the mom say, “Joshua, it’s
freezing and we’re late. I can’t stop every time.”

“Give me a quarter, Mommy. Give me some money.”

I got hopeful. Definitely time to make a move. I hunched my shoulders to look real small and pathetic. “I haven’t eaten today. You got any change, even a nickel?”

Best to ask for crazy small change. Makes Reggies feel cheap if they don’t give you something bigger.

“Joshua, stop pulling on Mommy’s arm when I’m carrying heavy things.”

Joshua kept tugging away and his mom was going to lose it, which was bad because that would mean she’d just bolt to her car.

“You don’t have to,” I said, making my voice crack a bit. “I’ll be okay.”

She put her bags down and began to dig around in her purse. Joshua wouldn’t stop pulling on her coat, and then the other kid started asking for money.

“I don’t have any change,” I heard her mutter as the kids kept pulling away. “Stop it, you two. That’s enough already, please!”

She pulled out two five-dollar bills. I swear. I couldn’t believe it. She gave one to each kid, only the wind picked up and Joshua’s brother dropped the bill and it blew away, with both kids tearing after it and their mom yelling at them to be careful and to stop. The bill went under a car and Joshua actually crawled under to get it.

“Joshua, get up. It’s dirty and there’s ice everywhere.”

He obviously wasn’t big on listening. He kept at it until he got the money, and ran over and gave the bills to me.

“You’re legit, dude,” I said to him. “Stay cool.”

“Let’s get going. Mommy’s going to the car now. Daddy’s at home waiting for us.”

I guess they loved their dad since they ran to the car. Joshua turned and waved, and I waved back, and why not since he basically got me ten dollars. That did it for hawking today. I’d never been so loaded in my life — $15.50. This really was the best day ever.

I cut up to Union Street toward the hot dog vendor around the far side so I wouldn’t have to deal with Creeper. I smelled the dogs before I even saw the cart. All the Undergrounders love these hot dogs, and if anybody has the coin to buy one they brag about it forever. I’d only eaten a few. One time a dad bought a hot dog for his little son and the kid threw it on the ground. The dad lost it and yelled and screamed and wouldn’t let the little kid pick it up, and as the dad pulled his kid, who was having a total temper tantrum, I ran over and snatched it. I didn’t get to choose my own toppings, though, so this would be way better.