Timberwolf Trap Page 3

  “I think that it was great that you helped Dale score his first goal of the season,” Dad said. “You could have scored an easy goal and beat Tom in the scoring race.”

  “I think Tom could have beaten me too,” Johnny said. “Tom missed two wide-open nets in the last minute of the game.”

  “Strange, isn’t it,” Dad said. “Tom is usually so good. Instead the two of you ended up in a tie.”

  “Do you think it was strange?” Johnny said. “Tom won’t admit it, but I think he missed on purpose.”

  “You mean because the team was up four goals and it didn’t matter if he missed?”

  “Yes,” Johnny said.

  “And because he’s a good friend and saw that you gave Dale a chance to score?”

  “Yes,” Johnny said.

  “I agree,” Dad said. “I think Tom also knows it’s nice to win a trophy, but it’s more important how you win. Sharing it won’t be bad, will it?”

  Johnny didn’t answer. He was looking back through the window. He saw that Dale and Dale’s dad were running down the parking lot toward them.

  “Back up, please,” Johnny said.

  “But we need to wait for Coach Smith,” Dad said. “Remember?”

  “I just need you to back up,” Johnny said. “You don’t have to leave the rink.”

  “Why?” Dad asked.

  “So we can be good neighbors,” Johnny said.

  His dad began to back up. The truck tires hit something. Dad stepped on the brakes.

  “What’s that?” Dad said.

  Dale and his dad were getting closer.

  “This truck can go through and over anything,” Johnny said. “Keep backing up. Hurry!”

  “But we just hit something,” Dad said.

  “Remember you said you owe me for helping with Coach Smith?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “If you keep backing up,” Johnny said, “we’ll be even.”

  Dale and his dad were not far away now.

  “Dad,” Johnny said, “trust me. Hurry!”

  Dad backed up. “What am I driving over? That was a big bump.”

  “Now forward,” Johnny said. “Trust me. Hurry!”

  Dad drove forward. There was another loud crunch.

  “You don’t have to drive over it again,” Johnny said. “That should do it.”

  “It should do what?” Dad asked.

  “Remember what you told me about your plan for Coach Smith?” Johnny said. “Watch. Listen. And learn.”

  Dale and Dale’s dad reached the truck.

  “Hey,” Dale’s dad yelled, “you just drove over my son’s hockey bag!”

  Chapter Twelve

  Blame Dad

  “This is my fault,” Johnny said.

  All of them were standing around the truck. Johnny and his dad. Dale and Dale’s dad.

  Johnny’s dad had the flashlight from the truck. He shone it on the hockey bag.

  Dale looked inside.

  “Yes,” Dale said, “it looks like my hockey stuff.” He leaned down and sniffed. “Yes, that is my hockey stuff.”

  Dale’s dad said, “You mean that was your hockey stuff.”

  Dale’s hockey gear was smashed and broken.

  “I took your bag out of the dressing room,” Johnny said, “and I left behind my bag.”

  “You must have gotten the bags mixed up,” Dale said. “We were trying to catch you before you left the rink.”

  “I am very sorry,” Johnny said. “I put the bag on the ground where my dad didn’t see it when he backed up.”

  “We can see it was your fault,” Dale’s dad said. He was angry. “What are you going to do about it? Dale needs hockey gear to play in the playoffs.”

  “Since it was my fault,” Johnny said. “I will make sure I replace it. Would that be okay?”

  “I guess,” Dale’s dad said, “as long as Dale has it by next game.”

  Dale’s dad looked at Johnny’s dad. “Next time, be more careful when you drive.”

  Dale’s dad stomped away. “Come on, Dale. Let’s go.”

  Dale shrugged and looked at Johnny. “Sorry,” Dale said.

  “No problem,” Johnny said, “really. I’m happy to do it.”

  “At least you won’t have to smell the hockey gloves of death ever again,” Dale said.

  “See?” Johnny said, “A person can always find a bright side.”

  Dale waved good-bye and followed his father.

  Johnny and his dad got back into the truck to wait for Coach Smith.

  “You switched bags on purpose,” Dad said.

  “I learn from the best,” Johnny said. “Tom already has another bag of hockey equipment to give him.”

  Johnny saw Coach Smith step out of the rink. “Now it’s your turn.”

  Dad hurried out of the truck. He released the gas cap to Coach Smith’s car. He stuck the hose into the gas tank. He stuck the other end of the hose into the gas can.

  Coach Smith walked up and saw Johnny’s dad.

  “Hey!” Coach Smith said. “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing,” Dad said.

  “Nothing?” Coach Smith said. “That is a hose in my gas tank. Hey! You’re stealing gas from me!”

  “Hang on,” Dad said. “It’s gas I already put in there.”

  “What?” Coach Smith said. He was mad. “You better explain.”

  “We’re friends,” Dad said. “I was messing with you. For a while, I was putting gas into your car so it would look like you were getting a lot more miles for every gallon. Then I began taking it out so it would look like you were getting less.”

  “You might think that is funny,” Coach Smith said. “I sure don’t. Even if we are friends.”

  “I’m sorry,” Dad said.

  “Sorry?” Coach Smith was mad. “You know I don’t like jokes. You should be more than sorry.”

  “Let me make it up to you,” Dad said. “You told me that you’re going to build a garage. I have lots of tools. If I help you build it, will that make us even?”

  “I guess,” Coach Smith said. “As long as you don’t tell anyone about this.”

  “Deal,” Dad said. He shook hands with Coach Smith.

  Then Coach Smith saw the hockey bag and all the broken and smashed hockey gear. Coach Smith bent over to take a closer look.

  “Yuck,” Coach Smith said. “That smells horrible. Is it Dale’s?”

  “It was Dale’s,” Johnny said. “Now we have to throw it away and give him new equipment.”

  “Wonderful!” Coach Smith said. “How did this lucky accident happen?”

  “It’s a long story,” Johnny said. “Let’s just say we need to blame Dad.”

  1. You can find this story in Timberwolf Hunt.

  2. You can find this story in Timberwolf Revenge.