Читать книгу Shabash! - Ann Walsh - Страница 9

I didn’t want to get my hair cut just to play hockey. Once I was baptized as a Sikh I wouldn’t be allowed to cut my hair; it’s one of the rules of our religion, the same way being a vegetarian is. Until I was baptized I could eat meat if I wanted to, and I could also wear my hair short if I could persuade my parents to let me cut it. But I didn’t want to. Eating a chili dog at the mall or a hamburger once in a while didn’t seem a big deal, but having my hair cut was different.

Something else that was worrying me was the equipment list Coach Bryson had given me. I’d looked up the prices of some of the things in the Sears catalogue and just about fallen over. I hadn’t realized everything cost so much or that there was so much of it to buy: shoulder pads, elbow pads, special hockey pants—even the socks were expensive. Once I’d bought everything on that list I wouldn’t have enough money left over to pay my registration fee. I counted my paper route money over and over, borrowed ten dollars from Babli, and even went to the bank and almost cleaned out my savings account. I hoped my parents wouldn’t find out about that. They made me put all of the money I got for birthdays in the bank. Grandpa always sent money and I’d never spent any of it. Not yet.

I was seriously thinking about not bothering with minor hockey, just forgetting about showing up at the next practice. After all, I hadn’t paid my dues yet. I had two days to make up my mind and to get all that equipment. Coach Bryson had phoned me and told me that there was a store in town that sold second-hand hockey stuff, as well as new equipment. He suggested I go there, said they were helpful and knew a lot about hockey equipment. Maybe I’d check out the prices at that store. Or maybe I’d give up the whole idea of playing hockey. That would be the easiest thing to do and probably the most sensible.

I don’t know how Mom knew that I was worried about the money, but the day after my first hockey practice she called me into the kitchen. Even though my dad wasn’t home and Babli was at a friend’s house, Mom shut the door and when she spoke her voice was almost a whisper.

“Here, Rana,” she said and handed me two fifty dollar bills. “You will need this, I think. The hockey will be expensive; there is much you must buy. I looked in the catalogue and the prices are high. Take this to help. But there is no reason for your father to know how much you and I spend. I think it will be best not to tell him.” She smiled at me. I grinned back and hugged her.