Hey, Gump!" The yell came from one of my Spokane Chiefs teammates, standing beside me in the players' box. "Gump! I gotta tell you about the hot chocolate!"

I ignored him. One of the reasons was the hockey game in front of me. The hockey game I wanted to be playing in.

"Gump! Gump!"

Another reason I ignored him is partly why I have my nickname: Gump the Grump.

I'm not only grumpy, I'm also short and wide. Actually, if people want to be mean, they can call me fat and be close to right. Short, wide guys normally don't have much of a chance in sports. But I have two things going for me. I don't feel pain. And I have quick hands.

Both of these things help in my sport. A lot. I face other guys who are taller and faster. At times, they skate almost 30 miles an hour. They fire a hard rubber disk at speeds of over 100 miles per hour -- at me, Joseph Larken. I'm a goalie in the Western Hockey League, which is one step short of the National Hockey League. Newspapers say I am one of the best in the league. But I wasn't going to play tonight. All because of a new goalie. A girl. Lauren Cross.

Tonight I was a backup goalie. My job at the moment was to open and close the door for skaters as they stepped on and off the ice. We were playing our final exhibition game of the preseason against the Portland Winter Hawks. There were still a few cuts to be made, so the players who weren't sure if they had made the team would be busting extra hard tonight.

"Hey, Gump!"

I finally pulled my eyes away from the action against the Portland Winter Hawks. A couple of our guys were forechecking hard in the other team's end.

"What is it?" I asked Eddie Dyer. The guy had his head bent down to my ear and had been yelling above the noise of the crowd to get my attention. Last year, Eddie hadn't been strong enough to make the team. This year he was stronger and bigger, a lot bigger, like he could be a model for a body building magazine. It was almost certain he would make the team this year.

"Betcha ten bucks you're in the game by the end of the period*," he said.

"Nope," I told him, staring into a face dotted with big, purple pimples.

"Yup," he said. Sweat made his pimples seem even bigger. "All the guys want you in the net. By the end of the period, she'll be gone. You'll be playing. Not her. Just wait and see."

"I meant 'nope' I won't bet." A backup goaltender only plays if the other goalie gets hurt or plays bad. Much as I wanted to play, I wasn't going to hope either one happened to her.

Eddie grinned at me. "You're a smart man."

"Smart?"

"Smart not to bet. Did you figure out the hot chocolate already?"

"What?" I had to shout. The crowd was cheering on its home team. In the Winter Hawks' arena, the noise is louder than a landing jet.

"The hot chocolate. One of the guys thought of it yesterday and --" Eddie stopped yelling and stepped away from me. Two of our skaters were heading toward the players' box. They needed a rest.

I yanked the door open. They stepped into the box as two other players jumped over the boards* and raced toward the action. On the other side of the ice, a Winter Hawks defenseman had just passed the puck ahead to his center. The Winter Hawks were at full speed and headed to our end of the ice.

I felt Eddie lean toward me again. He shouted, "The hot chocolate you gave her. It's --"

"Hang on a second!" I shouted back without looking at him. My eyes were on the game as the Winter Hawks moved the puck into our zone. I wanted to learn as much as I could about their offense. I wanted to know how they moved the puck around. Playing or not playing, I always look for things that give away shooters' secrets.

The Winter Hawks center uncorked a slap shot from just inside the blue line. He was probably thinking what everyone else was thinking. A girl in net. Shoot from anywhere.

But he didn't know what I knew. While the papers were making a big deal about a girl in net, they were forgetting the real story. Lauren Cross was good. Real good.

The slap shot was a low hard screamer. It hit the stick of one of our defensemen, and the puck deflected up. It was a blur headed toward the high right corner of our net.

It was going in . . . was going in . . . it was . . .

Like a cobra, Lauren's glove flashed upward and snagged the puck. She pulled the puck in close to her body.

The ref blew the whistle to stop the play.

Even though this was a Portland crowd, everyone went wild. Not only was it Lauren's first save of the game, but it was also her first save in the WHL, even if it was only preseason. A lot of the crowd was here because of all the publicity about a girl in the net. It was the kind of publicity that was selling tickets. But if it sold too many tickets, I stood a good chance of spending less time in the net myself.

"Don't worry, Gump," Eddie yelled into my ear. "Even with saves like that, she'll be gone by the end of the period."

The referee skated to the net and took the puck from Lauren to get ready for a faceoff*. Both teams made line changes. It gave me time to look back at Eddie.

"Okay," I said to Eddie. "What do you mean? And what about the hot chocolate?"

He grinned at me. "Remember the hot chocolate before the game?"

I remembered. The bus had gotten here early. With some time to kill, we had all hung around the front lobby of the arena. The concessions stand wasn't open yet. Some of the guys were drinking pop they bought from a machine. Others were drinking hot chocolate from another vending machine. Eddie had brought me two cups and told me to give one to Lauren. She'd looked lonely standing by herself at the other side of the lobby. She smiled when I gave it to her. I think she was worried that I hated her for getting all the attention.

"And remember how I told you to make sure she got the one with extra sugar?" Eddie asked.

I told him I remembered that too. The one in my right hand. Eddie had made a big deal that I give her the cup from my right hand.

Eddie looked over to make sure Coach Mead wasn't listening.

"Well," Eddie said, putting his mouth close to my ear. "That cup had extra sugar, all right. To hide the taste of the Ex-Lax in it. Lots of super-strength chocolate-flavored Ex-Lax."

"Huh?" I said.

"Ex-Lax. You know, a laxative. The stuff that old people use when they need to clear their insides."

"Why?" I said.

"It puts them on the toilet," he said. "In a hurry."

I shook my head at his stupidity. "I meant why did you do that to her?"

"Don't you get it? We wanted you to start tonight. We figured it would hit her before the game and she wouldn't be able to start. But this is even better."

"Even better?" I could hardly believe him.

"Come on," he said. "You of all people know how tough it is to be trapped in goalie equipment."

He grinned an ugly grin. "Think of what that Ex-Lax is doing to her. Any time now, she's going to have to get out of all that gear in a big, big hurry!"

A big, big hurry? There's hardly anything a goalie can do in a big, big hurry.

Think about carrying around two big bags of flour. Then imagine wrapping yourself in layer after layer of tape so that you can barely walk. That's what it's like to wear goalie equipment.

Everything a goalie wears is heavier than regular equipment. The skates have bigger blades and steel toes. You wear wide leg pads. Heavy hockey pants. A chest protector. An extra-large sweater. A throat protector. A face mask. A goalie helmet. A blocking pad to guard your arm over your stick hand. A padded catching glove on the other hand. In all that gear, you can stand there, fall down, do the splits, shoot out your hands, or dive one way or the other. But hurry to the bathroom? No way.

I watched Lauren. I thought of the half hour it takes to get dressed for a game. I thought of how long it takes to remove all that equipment. And I hoped nothing would happen to her until the buzzer at the end of the first period.

"Hey, Gump." Eddie nudged me. "Look! She's starting to dance!"

He didn't have to tell me. I knew already. Lauren, in all that heavy gear, had started to hop and push back and forth from one skate to the other.

Eddie laughed. I didn't. I had the sick feeling you get when you see a car accident about to happen and can't do anything to stop it.

You see, goalies are different from other hockey players. We never cheer against each other. Why? Only goalies truly know what it's like to be a goalie. Because you're the last player between the puck and the net, the blame always falls on you when the other team scores a goal. I mean, just watch the sports highlights on television. Do you ever see the great saves? Hardly ever. More like goal after goal after goal after goal.

Bad as it is when someone scores a good goal against you, it's worse if you let in a soft goal. It's such an awful feeling, you never want it to happen to anyone else. Although I wanted my job back, I wanted it because I play well. Not because of something Lauren might do wrong.

Lauren hopped and danced more. The puck was in the Winter Hawks' end, and she was starting to go crazy between the goal posts at our end.

Eddie giggled and punched my arm. "Any time now!" he said.

I wanted to bury my head. But, just like watching a car accident, I could not turn my head away.

Lauren slapped her leg pads with her stick. I imagined the pain she felt. I guessed she slapped her pads because she was trying to take her mind off what her body wanted to do.

She slapped her leg pads again. Harder. There were five minutes left in the first period. Could she last that long?

I looked back at the players fighting for the puck in the Winter Hawks' end. Maybe the play would stop soon and the ref would blow the whistle. Then, at least, she could skate off the ice between plays.

But it looked bad. The Winter Hawks defensemen were passing the puck around. No chance for a whistle.

I looked back at Lauren.

She had stopped dancing and was bent over in pain.

How much longer could she wait?

I turned to watch the puck. One of the Winter Hawks defensemen passed the puck up the boards to a winger.

I snapped my head back to Lauren. Except she wasn't in the net. She was racing full speed toward our players' box.

The crowd noticed too. People began screaming. This had never happened before. A goalie leaving in the middle of a play?

Halfway to the blue line, Lauren dropped her stick. Still skating hard, she threw her blocker off one hand and her catching glove off the other. One more step and she flung her face mask off her head. She left it all behind her like litter falling from a moving car.

One of our defensemen, skating backward, tripped over her stick. The other defenseman tripped over the first as he sprawled on the ice.

Lauren didn't care. Didn't even know. Her arms were pumping as she skated with desperation.

At our blue line, she nearly hit the Winter Hawks forward who was racing toward our net with the puck. I caught the look of surprise on his face. A goalie leaving the net faster than he was skating toward it?

It didn't matter to Lauren.

"Open up," she screamed from thirty feet away. "Open up!"

Behind her, surprised or not, the Winter Hawks forward skated past the two fallen defensemen and dumped the puck into the open net.

"Open up!" she yelled from twenty feet away. I don't think she cared that they had just scored against her. Not with what she needed to do.

Our coach was yelling. Our assistant coach was yelling. The fans were yelling. No one knew what was happening except for the players in on the joke. And, of course, Lauren.

"Open up!" she screamed again from ten feet away. Her long red hair was flowing straight behind her. Her face was tight with pain. "Open up!"

I yanked the gate open just before Lauren got to the bench.

She jumped into the players' box. She dove past me. Past Eddie. Past the coaches. She hit the hallway running.

"Well," Eddie said above all of the noise and confusion, "that takes care of that problem, doesn't it?"

Something about his mean grin got to me. "You're an idiot," I said. "An ugly, stupid idiot."

His face twisted and turned purple. He jumped on top of me and wrapped his fingers around my neck. He began to choke me.