Going Places Read Online Free Page A

about hockey than she let on, “a coach would be good. A bit of equipment for those who don’t have any would be nice too. Maybe someone to put in a good word for us so that we could get some free ice time.”
    â€œMaybe I could be some help there.” Everyone turned around to see who was talking. It was Tara Richardson. She smiled in an embarrassed way and continued. “I could talk to the Band Council about free ice time. They’d probably be happy to see something like this getting started. And maybe if we asked around, we could come up with some used equipment that the older kids have outgrown.” There were murmurs of agreement from around the room.
    â€œYeah, but where are we going to find a coach? There’s no way Joe can coach any more teams. He’s got his hands full now.”
    Joe was Joe Savage, a teacher at the school. He’d been coaching all four teams since he came here years ago, and he really did have his hands full.
    There was a long silence while we all thought about that one. Then, finally, “I’ve got it,” one of the dads said. “Curtis Beaulieu.”
    Slowly, all the heads in the room nodded and then turned in unison to the back corner, where our eyes locked on the two small Beaulieu girls. They had that wide-eyed look of rabbits caught in the garden.
    â€œWhat do you think, Sarah?” my mom asked gently. “Would your Uncle Curtis coach?” Sarah, the older of the two, swallowed and then looked at her sister, Lucy, for moral support. Nothing but terror there.
    In the quietest voice possible, Sarah finally spoke. “Uncle, he’s pretty busy. He works at the diamond mine. And he don’t like people much.” Her sister nodded. There was another silence while everyone thought about Curtis Beaulieu.
    Anyone who’d lived in Fort Desperation for any length of time knew Curtis Beaulieu’s story. I’d heard it tons of times. About the time that I was born, Curtis Beaulieu had been the best young hockey player inthe North. He moved out to Alberta to play Midget A and finish high school. As soon as he was old enough, he was drafted by the Calgary Flames. To us, and to most northerners, he was a hero—an example of what could happen if you worked hard enough, even if you did live at the end of a gravel road north of absolutely everywhere. And then, only three years into his amazing career, a high stick caught him in the eye and ended his career.
    After that the story gets a bit vague, but eventually, he came home. He had totally changed from a happy, outgoing young man into a bitter recluse. It’s true that you hardly ever see him in town. I think he works at the mine two weeks in, two weeks out, so that accounts for some of it. Once in a while I see him drive by in a big, new pickup truck. He built a small house on the edge of town, near the riverbank, and in the summer we sometimes see him out in his boat, but he’s always alone. We’ve never seen him play hockey.
    Sam’s dad, William Blackduck, spoke up. “We used to hang out together, a long time ago. I guess I could try asking him. But I don’t know. Like the girls said, he don’t like people much no more.” Heads nodded in agreement.
    â€œWell,” my mom said, “I guess until we get a coach, that’s about as far as we can go. I have a piece of paper here, so how about if every girl puts her name and phone number on it, so at least we know who’s interested.”
    The meeting ended. Fourteen girls had signed up—enough for a team. Now all we needed was a coach.

Chapter Six
    The week dragged on. Nothing too exciting was happening at school. It was still clear and cold, so the pond was busy after school with lots of skaters. A couple of the dads rigged up a spotlight on a tree and powered it with a generator. About nine o’clock every night, someone’s dad would come and shut the generator off, load it into