by M. M. Cox
“If Vince doesn’t improve, there will never be a next time,” Reggie states.
“Hey, I’m not that terrible,” a voice behind me says, and I wince. Leave it to Vince to show up at exactly the wrong moment.
“I didn’t say you were terrible,” Reggie states. “You just need a lot of practice. A lot. ”
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t born with my wrestling gear on like you!” Vince snaps. I groan as Portia rolls her eyes. “Really?” she asks. “Do you guys always have to get into it?”
“Sorry, Portia,” Reggie mumbles, and then he turns to Vince. “Next time, win all your matches so I can kick your butt in the finals.”
“Fine,” Vince growls, even though he probably doesn’t think getting shown up by Reggie in the final match would be any better than getting beat on his way to the finals. Reggie glances over my shoulder and gives me a curt nod. “I’ll check in with you later, Danny.” He turns and walks away abruptly, and it only takes me a second to figure out why. Gino is standing behind me, his quick eyes following Reggie as he leaves. “That kid could use some manners,” Gino mutters, and I almost laugh because Reggie is actually one of the most polite people I know, just not around the Vigliottis.
“Danny, the wrestling coach wants to talk to you,” Gino says, and I quickly turn and follow him and Vince back to the other side of the gym. Gino and Vince head back toward the locker rooms, arguing about Vince’s match as they go. Portia and I veer toward the benches. I’m still holding Portia’s hand when she stops abruptly and stares ahead with a shocked expression.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
She shakes her head, indicating that she’s not going to tell me, and before I know it, the wrestling coach has walked up to us with another teenager in tow. The kid is about my size, but maybe a little more broad-shouldered, although it’s hard to tell since he’s in a jacket and jeans. He’s tanned, which is strange for this time of year, and his straight dark hair is longer than mine and certainly much less sweaty at the moment. But it’s the friendly look he gives Portia that puts me on the defensive.
Coach Larson is a gruff, small guy who doesn’t realize that this new teenager is making my girlfriend very uncomfortable. I look expectantly at him to explain who this kid is.
“Danny, this is Damian Caletti,” Coach Larson says abruptly. “He used to wrestle at Newcastle’s middle school before he moved away. His family just returned a few weeks ago. The thing is, Damian’s in your weight class. So I guess we’ll have to see who gets the starting spot once he joins us.”
I try to smile at Damian, but I find this impossible. First of all, I don’t want him looking at my girlfriend like he’s her new best friend. Second of all, Portia is acting weird, which must mean he’s a real jerk. Finally, Damian and I are probably not going to be instant buddies if we’re fighting for the same spot on the team.
But Coach Larson is apparently unconcerned with all of this. “Damian, this is Danny Higgins and Portia Saviano.”
Damian grins. “Oh, I know Portia. She was my middle school sweetheart.”
Somehow the way he says it sounds sweet and sincere, and I hate it. I hold myself in check, reminding myself I’ll have my chance at this chump on the wrestling mat, and I’m savoring the image of putting him in a headlock when Damian adds, “Oh, and I know Danny too.”
“Really?” Coach Larson and I say in almost perfect unison. I’m suddenly racking my brain for memories of other competitors I faced in middle school. Somehow, I think I would remember someone like Damian. That confident smile would be hard to forget.
“Yeah,” Damian continues. “Well, I mean, I know of him.”
“Oh. Right. Well yeah, Danny’s a good wrestler, when he puts the work into it,” Coach Larson says.
“I’m sure he is,” Damian replies with a nod. “But that’s not how I heard of him.”
I’m tired of all the hinting. “How did you hear of me?” I demand a bit harshly.
“Damian is Ray Gallo’s nephew,” Portia whispers, her voice almost inaudible above the cheering of the crowd.
At the name of Gallo, I have to take a deep breath to calm myself. Not only am I responsible for Ray Gallo being in prison, but I also managed to get his son, Tommy, suspended at Newcastle High. Needless to say, if the Gallos have a sworn enemy, I’m it. I try to look casual as I eye Damian. “Ray Gallo, huh?”
“Ray’s sister is my mom,” Damian answers, his easy smile still in place. I think it would have been easier for me if he had been hateful and arrogant. At least then I wouldn’t have to guess whether the nice guy act is just that—an act.
However, at the mention of Ray Gallo, Coach Larson has stepped away ever so slightly from Damian. The incarceration of Ray Gallo was big news in Newcastle, and Coach Larson also kicked Tommy off the wrestling team when Tommy was suspended and later expelled for his bad behavior. Coach Larson isn’t nearly the enemy of the Gallos that I am, but he’s certainly not a favorite of theirs either.
“Well,” Coach Larson says curtly, “I’ll catch up with you guys later. I’ve got work to do.” With that he stalks off, probably trying to figure out how he can distance himself from Damian Caletti after welcoming him to the team.
Damian watches the coach hurry away with a frustrated look. “Well, there’s no way I can keep people from finding out who my uncle is. I guess I’ll be the school outcast.”
But Damian doesn’t look like a kid who has ever suffered from being the school outcast. On the other hand, it’s been a bumpy ride for me. I’d say I’m pretty popular now, but that could change at any time. High school is fickle.
“Good to see you again, Portia,” Damian says to my girlfriend, and I hate that she actually smiles at him. I mean, I guess that’s what Portia does—she’s really sweet and not likely to hold anything against Damian if he’s nice too. Suddenly, I’m very curious how close these two were in middle school.
“So,” I say, not able to hide the edge in my tone. “You guys were a pair, huh?” The words sound stupid even as they leave my mouth, and I suddenly wish I were way more tan.
“Yeah. But Portia was definitely too good for me,” Damian says.
“Oh please, you were the guy every girl wanted in middle school,” Portia replies, and she giggles. Yes— giggles. I know the heat rising to my face is not from wrestling.
“Why’d you break up?” I ask abruptly, trying to bring them back to the important thing—they are no longer together.
Portia’s expression becomes serious. “He moved away.”
Oh, that’s fantastic. Damian didn’t cheat on her or treat her poorly. Oh no, he just had to leave, something he probably had no control over. This is very bad for me. Very bad indeed.
“Yeah, and Portia doesn’t like it when people leave her,” Damian replies, and this is the first time I hear an edge of bitterness in his tone. Good, I think. Bitterness is good.
“Well, I acted pretty immature,” Portia offers. “It wasn’t your fault.”
Okay, if I am going to keep these two from a happy reunion, I have to work fast. “You ready for that movie?” I ask Portia.
She smiles and nods. “Absolutely. I’ll just wait here until you shower and change.”
I pause, knowing I’m defeated. I’m going to be forced to leave her with Damian for a few minutes. Why can’t love be like wrestling matches? I know how to win those. I see the slightest flash in Damian’s eyes, and I know that underneath his Mr. Nice Guy act, he still has strong feelings for Portia. But what can I do? Portia can’t go back to the locker room with me, and telling her she can’t talk to Damian is a one-way ticket to a breakup. She’s not too fond of being ordered around.
So I kiss my girlfriend on the lips right in front of Damian, and then I shoot him a glare that I know Portia can’t see. I stride off to the locker room trying to look confident even while I’m hurrying so that I can get back to my girl before any permanent damage is done. I angrily stalk to my locker and slam it with my hand. Then I tell
myself to calm down; there’s no need to lose my head. Damian may have history with Portia, but I’m willing to bet it’s nothing compared with what Portia and I have. We came together under crazy circumstances, and we share a common bond because of our mobster ties. Then again, with a last name like Caletti, who knows if Damian has some mobster ties of his own?
