Timberwolf Trap Read online

  “Coach Smith wrote a letter to the paper about his car,” Johnny said.

  “What is there to write about?” Stu said. “It’s not like he drives a Corvette. Or a cool 4x4 that can drive through and over anything.”

  “Really,” Johnny said. “Here.”

  Johnny handed the newspaper to Stu. Stu started to read the article.

  “I’m impressed,” Johnny said. “Your lips don’t move when you read.”

  “Ha, ha,” Stu said. “Now be quiet.”

  Stu kept reading.

  Seventy Miles to the Gallon!

  Local Businessman Calls

  Computer Tune-up a Success

  Dear Editor,

  I think it’s a shame when the newspaper won’t publish an amazing news story when it happens right in Howling. You probably won’t even print this letter.

  I’ve called three times to tell you about my computer tune-up. My car is getting seventy miles to the gallon. It’s also wrong that your reporter would accuse me of lying about it. I am very careful with my calculations, and everyone in Howling knows I am a truthful man, especially in my insurance business on Main Street.

  Yours truly, Jerry Smith

  P.S. Anyone interested in helping the world with the same kind of tune-up can stop by my insurance business on Main Street. I would be happy to talk to them about my car or any of their insurance needs.

  From the editor: As most of our readers know, Mr. Smith is the coach of the Howling Timberwolves. And our boys are having a good season. It’s neck-to-neck between centers Johnny Maverick and Tom Morgan for leading goal scorers in the league. Come watch their last regular game of the season tomorrow night to see who wins. Go, boys, go!

  “Seventy miles to the gallon,” Stu said after he put the paper down. “That is amazing.”

  “What’s amazing is that the editor put my name in at the end,” Johnny said. “That’s something to be proud of, wouldn’t you say?”

  “I also saw Tom Morgan’s name.”

  “Right,” Johnny said. “It’s all about teamwork.”

  “Keep working on sounding truthful,” Stu said. “Someday someone might believe you. But it won’t ever be me.”

  Johnny wasn’t listening. He had moved to the window.

  “Stu,” Johnny said, “that’s Tom Morgan. He’s carrying a bag of hockey equipment.”

  “So he didn’t believe us!” Stu said. “We have to stop him.”

  Both of them ran out of the library. They ran down the hall. They reached Tom before he got to their classroom. They tackled him. All three of them went down in the hallway in a big pile.

  “Are you guys crazy?” Tom asked, still lying on the floor with Johnny and Stu. “What is going on?”

  “That’s what I’d like to know too,” a voice said.

  The voice came from above them. It belonged to Mr. Wright.

  Mr. Wright was the principal. And he did not look happy.

  Chapter Seven

  A First Time for Johnny

  Tom spoke first. Tom and Stu and Johnny were sitting in Mr. Wright’s office. A sign on his desk said, The name is Mr. Wright, never Mr. Wrong. And don’t forget it.

  “Do you have any idea how bad the smelly hockey socks of death are?” Tom asked Mr. Wright. “And the smelly hockey gloves of death? And the smelly elbow pads of death?”

  “I do,” Mr. Wright said. “When I was younger, I used to be the coach for Dale’s first three brothers. I understand the equipment has been handed down for many more brothers. The hockey gear would be much worse now.”

  “Especially after the cat had a litter of kittens in it during the Christmas break,” Johnny said. “Dale said the kittens peed a lot for being such little things.”

  Mr. Wright made a face.

  “It’s like five skunks sprayed it,” Stu said.

  “Seven,” Tom said.

  “I get the idea,” Mr. Wright said, “but I still don’t know why you ended up in the hallway like that.”

  “I talked to my dad about it,” Tom said. “I explained that Dale’s family doesn’t have a lot of money. So my dad bought Dale some new equipment. I even put in part of my allowance. I brought it to school this morning to give to Dale.”

  “That’s very kind,” Mr. Wright said. “What a good idea. Dale could use the new equipment.”

  Tom crossed his arms and looked at Johnny and Stu. “That’s what I told them. It’s not my fault they tackled me in the hallway.”

  “Yes, it is,” Johnny said. “Last night at practice we told you it was a bad idea. You should have listened.”

  “You should have listened to Johnny last night,” Mr. Wright said to Tom. “It is a bad idea.”

  “But you just said it was very kind,” Tom said to Mr. Wright. “You said it was a good idea. You said Dale could use the new equipment.”

  Mr. Wright pointed to the sign on his desk. The name is Mr. Wright, never Mr. Wrong. And don’t forget it.

  “It is kind,” Mr. Wright said. “It is a good idea. Dale could use the new hockey gear. But it is a bad idea.”

  Mr. Wright looked at Johnny and Stu. “Did you tell Tom about the Christmas a few years ago?”

  “We tried,” Stu said, “but he didn’t want to listen.”

  “Tom,” Mr. Wright said, “one year some of the people in town got together and bought a bunch of toys for Dale’s family. They left the toys on their doorstep on Christmas Eve. It was a good and kind idea, but it was a bad idea.”

  “I don’t understand,” Tom said.

  “On Christmas morning, the people in Howling found all the toys on Main Street. Dale’s father had driven over the toys again and again and again. All of us got the hint. We’ve left them alone ever since.”

  “I still don’t understand,” Tom said.

  “Dale lives in a proud family,” Mr. Wright said. “They don’t want help. Have you noticed that Dale never complains about the smelly hockey gloves of death?”

  Mr. Wright smiled. “Did I just say that phrase out loud? The smelly hockey gloves of death?”

  “Yes,” Tom said, “you did.”

  Mr. Wright frowned.

  “Bad idea,” Johnny said to Tom. “Sometimes Mr. Wright asks funny questions that he doesn’t want answered.”

  Johnny looked at Mr. Wright. “Those were funny questions. Tom will learn not to answer your funny questions.”

  Mr. Wright began to smile again.

  “You see, Tom,” Mr. Wright said, “this is a small town. You are new to the town. As you get to know us, you will see that some good ideas are really bad ideas. Does that make sense?”

  “Is that one of your funny questions you don’t want answered?” Tom said.

  Mr. Wright sighed.

  “We wouldn’t have tackled Tom if we could have reached him in time,” Johnny said. “But we knew if Tom got into the classroom with the hockey equipment, Dale would never play hockey on the Timberwolves again. He’d think we felt sorry for him.”

  “I don’t do this very often,” Mr. Wright said. He stopped. “Actually, I’ve never done this before in all the times that Johnny Maverick has been in my office. So for the first time, I have to say Johnny is correct.”

  Mr. Wright stood. “You boys aren’t in trouble. It would be wise not to let this conversation get outside of the office. Most of all, never let Dale or his father know about this.”

  “But how can we get him the new equipment?” Tom asked.

  “Not my department,” Mr. Wright said. Mr. Wright pointed to the sign on his desk. The name is Mr. Wright, never Mr. Wrong. And don’t forget it.“I try to stick to questions I can answer.”

  Chapter Eight

  Running on Empty

  Johnny sat in the truck as Dad drove them to the rink.

  “Now let’s talk about tonight’s game,” Dad said. “It would be nice to win a trophy, but it’s more important to feel good about how you won it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “People wh
o score a lot of goals still can’t do it without a team to help them all season,” Dad said. “Just remember that.”

  Dad turned into the parking lot of the rink. He stopped beside Coach Smith’s car.

  “Not again,” Johnny said.

  “Again,” Dad said.

  “Don’t you remember what happens when I’m late?” Johnny said. He had already noticed the gas can in the back of the truck. “A couple of goals tonight and I might win a trophy. It would be nice if I didn’t have to sit beside the smelly socks of death before the game.”

  “I need your help to watch for traffic,” Dad said. “This is going great. Did you read Coach Smith’s letter to the editor?”

  Johnny got out of the big black 4x4 and walked around to his dad’s side of the truck. “He already wrote the letter. What difference does it make if you get him up to eighty miles to the gallon?”

  “That would be boring,” Dad said. He reached into the back of the truck. He grabbed the small gas can. He tossed it to Johnny.

  “Hey!” Johnny said. He jumped. He expected the gas can to be heavy. But it was empty.

  His dad pulled a hose from the front of the truck.

  “This is a siphon,” Dad told Johnny. He held up the key to a car. “We will use it to take gas from Mr. Smith’s tank and put it into the gas can.”

  “You are taking back all the gas you put into it?”

  “Only a little at a time,” Dad said. “I’ve been sneaking over to his house in the middle of the night for the last four days. I’d hate for the missing gas to show up on his fuel gauge.”

  Johnny thought about it. He was impressed.

  “You really know how to mess with someone,” Johnny said. “But I still don’t understand how it will help us be good neighbors.”

  “If I tell you the plan,” Dad answered, “you have to promise to keep it a secret.”

  “This should be good,” Johnny said. “Tell me.”

  Dad told him the plan.

  Johnny was right. The plan was good.

  Chapter Nine

  A Smelly Loser?

  It was the middle of the third period against the out-of-town Gophers. Tom had scored one goal early in the first period. Johnny had scored no goals. So Tom was one goal ahead in the race for the trophy. Time was running out for Johnny.

  Johnny got ready for a face-off on the right side in the Gopher’s zone. Dale was his right winger. The Howling Timberwolves were up by three goals. Johnny knew he didn’t have to worry about teamwork as much. He could try to score and the team probably wouldn’t lose.

  The ref dropped the puck. The Gophers’ center pulled it back to the defenseman. The defenseman passed it up the boards to a winger. Dale chased the puck and got to the Gophers’ winger.

  Johnny raced to the net. He knew that Dale was good at fighting for the puck. Dale had given him a lot of good passes all year. When Johnny looked up, the puck was already coming toward him. Dale had beat the Gopher’s winger and made another good pass!

  Johnny got his stick on the puck. The Gophers’ defenseman tried to knock it away, and the puck bounced to Johnny’s skates. He kicked the puck ahead and managed to get it on his stick again.

  The Gophers’ defenseman tried knocking the puck away again. But missed.

  Johnny had a clear shot. He saw a space between the goalie’s pads. He shot the puck quickly. The defenseman knocked him down. But as Johnny was falling, he saw the puck go into the net!

  Goal! The Timberwolves were up by four! He was tied with Tom for goal leader! Johnny jumped up with his arms in the air as the crowd cheered.

  Dale skated to give Johnny a high five.

  The Gophers’ winger was skating beside Dale.

  “Maybe you got the puck from me,” the winger said, “but that’s only because you smell so bad that it’s hard to stay close and fight you for the puck.”

  “My center scored,” Dale said. “That’s what matters.”

  “Yeah,” the winger said. “Good thing he can score. I heard you haven’t had a goal all year. That makes you a smelly loser.”

  “Hey!” Johnny said.

  “Ignore him,” Dale said. “It doesn’t bother me.”

  But Johnny could tell that Dale did feel bad. Johnny didn’t think it was because the winger said Dale was smelly. Dale was used to that.

  Johnny knew it was because Dale didn’t have a goal yet. That had not bothered Johnny before. Dale always passed to him. Dale was always happy when Johnny scored goals for the team.

  “Sure,” Johnny said to Dale. “If it doesn’t bother you,

  then I will ignore him. Besides, we are winning by four goals. Teamwork, remember?”

  Coach Smith waved at them to stay on the ice. Johnny and Dale skated back to center ice for the next face-off.

  Chapter Ten

  A Smelly Hug

  This time Johnny won the draw. He slid the puck back to Stu Duncan on defense. Stu was better at squishing people into the boards than he was at skating with the puck. Stu knew this. He passed the puck back to Johnny.

  Johnny was still excited from scoring a goal and tying Tom in the race. He was moving fast and turned sideways quickly with the puck. It fooled the center who was chasing him.

  Johnny looked ahead. There were two defensemen between him and the net. If he didn’t pass, it would not hurt the team. The Timberwolves were up by four goals.

  Johnny decided to hang on to the puck. He raced toward the side of the ice. Maybe he could skate around the defenseman in front of him.

  “Johnny!” Dale yelled for a pass.

  The defenseman looked over at Dale for a split second. That was enough for Johnny to make his move. He beat the defenseman. The defenseman tried to sweep the puck off Johnny’s stick, but the defenseman fell down.

  Breakaway!

  Now Johnny was inside the blue line. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone chasing him. He took a quick look.

  Good, he told himself. It was only Dale.

  The two of them had another two-man breakaway!

  “Go wide!” Johnny yelled. If Dale did that, then the goalie would have more trouble. Because then the goalie would have to watch out for a pass from Johnny to Dale.

  But if Johnny scored now, he would be one goal ahead of Tom. And time was running out in the game. It would be good to fool the goalie into watching out for Dale.

  Dale went wide. The goalie moved a bit to Dale’s side to cover for the pass. It opened up a hole on Johnny’s side of the net.

  Shoot! He told himself as he got closer to the net. Shoot!

  Now the goalie shifted back to Johnny’s side because it seemed like Johnny was going to shoot. There was less room now, but still enough for Johnny to score if he made a good shot.

  Except now Dale was wide open, and there was much more room on Dale’s side of the net.

  So Johnny faked a shot but slid the puck over to Dale. The fake fooled the goalie and he went to his knees to block the shot. He was stuck on the ice. He could not move fast enough to cover the other side of the net.

  The puck reached Dale’s stick. Dale seemed surprised at the chance.

  “Shoot!” Johnny yelled at him. “Shoot!”

  Dale shot. He scored! He jumped high in the air.

  “A goal!” he shouted. “A goal!”

  Johnny skated toward him to give him a high five.

  But Dale did not give Johnny a high five. Dale hugged Johnny. It was a smelly hug. A very smelly hug.

  “You could be ahead of Tom in the scoring race,” Dale said as he hugged Tom. “You should not have passed.”

  “We are a team,” Johnny said. “That’s why I passed.”

  Dale hugged him again. “Thank you!”

  “Sure,” Johnny said. He was happy he had passed to Dale.

  But Johnny wasn’t as happy that Dale was hugging him. Dale’s hockey equipment smelled like it had been sprayed by seven skunks.

  Something had to be done about the smelly hockey
equipment of death.

  Chapter Eleven

  The Loud Crunch

  After the game, Johnny’s dad was waiting beside Johnny in the dressing room. Johnny just had to tie his shoes and he would be ready to leave. Johnny’s dad had his nose plugged.

  “Sorry,” Dale said. He had all of his hockey equipment off. He was putting on his shirt.

  “That’s all right,” Johnny’s dad said with his nose plugged. “I know it is worse for you.”

  “Yes,” Dale said, “but I scored a goal tonight. Did you see it?”

  “I did,” Johnny’s dad said. “It was great.”

  Coach Smith stopped to talk to Johnny. “Good playing tonight.”

  “Thank you,” Johnny said. He finished tying his shoes. “I liked your letter in the paper. It’s amazing that your car gets seventy miles to the gallon.”

  Coach Smith groaned and shook his head. “Not anymore. Suddenly, I’m only getting twenty miles to the gallon. I can’t figure out what is wrong.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Johnny’s dad said to Coach Smith. “Especially after you bragged about it to everyone in town.”

  “I know,” Coach Smith said. “That’s the worst part.”

  “Dad,” Johnny said. “I’m ready.”

  Johnny stood. He grabbed a bag of hockey equipment and hurried out of the dressing room. He walked with his dad to the end of the parking lot where the truck was parked beside Coach Smith’s car.

  “You seemed like you were in a hurry to leave the dressing room,” Dad said.

  “Yes,” Johnny said. He walked around to his side of the truck with the hockey bag. He set it underneath the truck. “I was in a hurry.”

  “But we have to wait for Coach Smith,” Dad said. “I explained that was part of the secret plan.”

  “Sure,” Johnny said. He jumped up into his side of the truck.

  Dad got into his side. He started the truck so they could stay warm. They waited for Coach Smith.

  “It’s going to be great when Coach Smith catches you taking gas out of his car,” Johnny said.