Read Online Rebel Glory by Sigmund Brouwer - Free Book Online Page A

about the goalie’s glove?”
    I whistled in admiration. “Impressive. Why do I feel a lot better all of a sudden?”
    “Just get the answers ready for me.”
    “Should I call you at home later?”
    She stared over my shoulder and tapped her front teeth as she thought. “No,” she said, “meet me here tonight around eight o’clock. Can you do that?”
    “How about earlier?” I asked. Waiting around all day would kill me. “Maybe we could meet after school?”
    “No, I have some of my own questions to answer.” She didn’t tell me more.
    “Tonight at eight then.” I took a mouthful of coffee and swallowed. It was worse than medicine.
    I watched Cheryl stir her coffee. She had long pretty fingers. As her spoon clanked against the cup, I realized it was still full. She hadn’t taken one sip of coffee—shejust kept stirring it! I laughed.
    She lifted her head quickly. Surprised.
    “You laughed,” she said.
    I thought about it. “Yes, I guess I did.”
    “And you smiled. I didn’t know you could do those things.”
    I tried another smile. It didn’t feel too bad.
    “So, what was so funny?” she asked.
    I grinned. “I hate coffee too.”

chapter fifteen
    I didn’t have to go far from the restaurant to find a place to spend the rest of the day. I crossed Ross Street, walked across City Hall Park and entered the library, a white, square, two-story building.
    On the second floor I found a chair at a window that overlooked the park. For the first hour I mainly stared at the park with its dead brown grass and piles of snow left tomelt. In the summer, I thought, this would be a nice view, with green grass and the trees filled with leaves and the dirt beds blooming with flowers. But summer seemed so far away. I wondered if I would still be a hockey player then or if my hopes and dreams of playing in the NHL would be over.
    It seemed stupid to think that answering the questions on Cheryl’s notepaper might get me back on the team. I let myself become depressed, until I told myself it was the only chance I had. So for the next couple of hours I concentrated hard on answering the questions as best I could.
    I also made a list of people I thought could have hurt the team and the reasons why I suspected them. I underlined Assistant Coach Kimball. If he had done these things, it was very smart of him to be the one to first mention fiberglass as a possibility. Like being a thief and being the one to first discover a theft. No one would suspect you. But I suspected him. Of course, there were the stickboys, but why would they do this stuff? Or, for that matter, why would Kimball? Igot a big headache trying to figure out who was doing this to our team.
    After that, I still had too much time to kill.
    I decided to stay in the library. It wasn’t likely that many of the Rebels players would hang out at the library. I would be safe here.
    I read for the rest of the day.
    “Hey!” Cheryl said when she stepped up to my table in the restaurant at eight o’clock sharp. “How are you doing?”
    “Great,” I lied. I wasn’t hopeful this would help. Still, it felt better just to see her smile.
    “Me too,” she said as she sat opposite me. “I’m glad for the chance to help you out, but I’m also discovering this detective work is plain fun. Count me in for as long as this takes.”
    The waitress came by and we both ordered milkshakes. Not coffee.
    “Fire away,” Cheryl said, still grinning. “What did you come up with?”
    I unfolded the sheet of paper and read my messy writing. “I don’t know why someone would want me off the team,” I said. “I don’t have any enemies—or at least I didn’t until the wallet incident.”
    “Who will gain if you’re gone?”
    “Cheryl, I spent a lot of time thinking about this. I suppose a couple of the second-or third-line defensemen might gain.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “With me gone, they’ll get extra ice time. A chance to play more.” I scratched my head.