be kidding.
“But … but it’s the Red Wings.”
“And then it’s the Oilers, the Rangers, the Bruins,” Mumsaid, counting them off on her fingers. “That’s not the point.”
She had the schedule all messed up, but that wasn’t the point either. I looked toward my only hope, but Dad was shaking his head. “I’m with Mum on this one.”
“Are you kidding me?” I gasped. It was the Red Wings!
“Finish your dinner before it gets cold,” Mum said.
All of a sudden, I wasn’t hungry. Not even for meatloaf. I pushed my food around on my plate for a few minutes, trying to make it look like I was eating something, but I wasn’t fooling anyone.
Mum and Dad chatted about their busy days at work, as if they hadn’t just destroyed my life. Well, my evening, anyway.
“May I be excused?” I asked, when I couldn’t stand it anymore.
“Yes,” Mum said. “And please clear your sister’s place, as well as yours.”
I carried the dishes into the kitchen, then rinsed them and loaded the dishwasher. When I passed the table again on the way to my prison cell, Dad said, “Be sure to offer your sister a real apology on your way up.”
“I will,” I mumbled.
I climbed the stairs and stopped at the top for a second or two before knocking on Wendy’s door. I could hear music, so I knocked louder.
“What?”
I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry,” I said, through the door.
“Go away,” she growled.
So I did. I went to my room and flopped on the bed with my textbooks piled around me. I didn’t feel like doing anything, especially homework. I flipped through my Math assignment again, then opened
Over the Moon
and startedreading.
Before I knew it, almost an hour and a half had flown by, and that seemed crazier than the rest of my day put together. I couldn’t believe it. I’d never been “lost” in a book before, but I actually liked reading it. Mrs. Foster would probably collapse when she found out I’d read ahead.
I glanced at the clock.
Almost eight!
Big Danny Donlin was coming on!
I jumped off the bed and ran downstairs, where I could hear the game on in the living room. It was like a gigantic magnet was on the other side of the wall, trying to pull me in, but I couldn’t watch. When Mum and Dad said no, they really meant it. I froze for a second, trying to hear the score at least, but Dad had it turned down too low.
Nuts!
I hurried into the kitchen and climbed on the stool to reach the radio. I hit the power button, then had to scramble to turn the volume down. I rolled the dial through mini blasts of news and music until I was on PUCK Radio.
My whole body was tense.
The radio station was broadcasting the game!
Of course, Mum and Dad hadn’t said anything about not being allowed to
listen
to it, but I was pretty sure that was a no-no. Even tuning in for the contest was pushing my luck.
“And now that we’ve got a commercial break in the game,” Big Danny Donlin said, practically into my ear, “let’s get to tonight’s question.”
“Yes,” I whispered.
“For a signed copy of Kenny McElroy’s
NHL History
, we are looking for caller number seven to tell us which teamdrafted Brett Hull.”
First Bobby Hull, now Brett?
This time, I knew the answer, right away. I’d read it in
Shoot! Third Edition
during Social Studies!
The Calgary Flames.
It was only a second or two before a call came in. Man, if people were dialing that fast, I was going to have to start practising punching in the station’s number so I’d be ready on the big day.
“Who’s on the line?” Big Danny Donlin asked.
“Chris from Comox.”
“Hello Chris from Comox. Do you have an answer for me?”
“The Calgary Flames,” I whispered.
“Yeah, I do. It was the Blues.”
“Ouch,” Big Danny Donlin groaned. “No it wasn’t. Next caller?”
A woman’s voice said, “This is Fran from Parksville.”
“And the answer is?”
“The Calgary Flames?” she asked.
“You’ve got it!” said Big
“But … but it’s the Red Wings.”
“And then it’s the Oilers, the Rangers, the Bruins,” Mumsaid, counting them off on her fingers. “That’s not the point.”
She had the schedule all messed up, but that wasn’t the point either. I looked toward my only hope, but Dad was shaking his head. “I’m with Mum on this one.”
“Are you kidding me?” I gasped. It was the Red Wings!
“Finish your dinner before it gets cold,” Mum said.
All of a sudden, I wasn’t hungry. Not even for meatloaf. I pushed my food around on my plate for a few minutes, trying to make it look like I was eating something, but I wasn’t fooling anyone.
Mum and Dad chatted about their busy days at work, as if they hadn’t just destroyed my life. Well, my evening, anyway.
“May I be excused?” I asked, when I couldn’t stand it anymore.
“Yes,” Mum said. “And please clear your sister’s place, as well as yours.”
I carried the dishes into the kitchen, then rinsed them and loaded the dishwasher. When I passed the table again on the way to my prison cell, Dad said, “Be sure to offer your sister a real apology on your way up.”
“I will,” I mumbled.
I climbed the stairs and stopped at the top for a second or two before knocking on Wendy’s door. I could hear music, so I knocked louder.
“What?”
I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry,” I said, through the door.
“Go away,” she growled.
So I did. I went to my room and flopped on the bed with my textbooks piled around me. I didn’t feel like doing anything, especially homework. I flipped through my Math assignment again, then opened
Over the Moon
and startedreading.
Before I knew it, almost an hour and a half had flown by, and that seemed crazier than the rest of my day put together. I couldn’t believe it. I’d never been “lost” in a book before, but I actually liked reading it. Mrs. Foster would probably collapse when she found out I’d read ahead.
I glanced at the clock.
Almost eight!
Big Danny Donlin was coming on!
I jumped off the bed and ran downstairs, where I could hear the game on in the living room. It was like a gigantic magnet was on the other side of the wall, trying to pull me in, but I couldn’t watch. When Mum and Dad said no, they really meant it. I froze for a second, trying to hear the score at least, but Dad had it turned down too low.
Nuts!
I hurried into the kitchen and climbed on the stool to reach the radio. I hit the power button, then had to scramble to turn the volume down. I rolled the dial through mini blasts of news and music until I was on PUCK Radio.
My whole body was tense.
The radio station was broadcasting the game!
Of course, Mum and Dad hadn’t said anything about not being allowed to
listen
to it, but I was pretty sure that was a no-no. Even tuning in for the contest was pushing my luck.
“And now that we’ve got a commercial break in the game,” Big Danny Donlin said, practically into my ear, “let’s get to tonight’s question.”
“Yes,” I whispered.
“For a signed copy of Kenny McElroy’s
NHL History
, we are looking for caller number seven to tell us which teamdrafted Brett Hull.”
First Bobby Hull, now Brett?
This time, I knew the answer, right away. I’d read it in
Shoot! Third Edition
during Social Studies!
The Calgary Flames.
It was only a second or two before a call came in. Man, if people were dialing that fast, I was going to have to start practising punching in the station’s number so I’d be ready on the big day.
“Who’s on the line?” Big Danny Donlin asked.
“Chris from Comox.”
“Hello Chris from Comox. Do you have an answer for me?”
“The Calgary Flames,” I whispered.
“Yeah, I do. It was the Blues.”
“Ouch,” Big Danny Donlin groaned. “No it wasn’t. Next caller?”
A woman’s voice said, “This is Fran from Parksville.”
“And the answer is?”
“The Calgary Flames?” she asked.
“You’ve got it!” said Big
Similar Books
