Colin and The Rise of The House of Horwood

by M. E. Eadie

  ***

  The indoor soccer facility had once been an old factory, but was now renovated so that it held two indoor fields. It rose up out of the ground, massive and squat, a dark brick building that promised no delights within. In the renovations they had left the outside virtually untouched. Windows of an industrial age gaped down questioningly at him, demanding to know why he was there, and if he had anything to contribute to an unbending work ethic of yesteryear.

  He bounded up the steps leading to the front doors, hoping he wasn’t too late. He should have taken Rhea up on her offer to walk over together.

  “Hey, what do you think you’re doing here?” said a derisive voice.

  Colin looked up to see Edge, fleshy arms crossed over his chest, standing in front of the big glass doors. Edge’s mean, narrow-set eyes glowered at him, his face twisted in distaste. There were two other boys with him that Colin didn’t recognize. They looked just as unfriendly. Colin had no idea why Edge disliked him so much. He tried to get by them, but Edge stiff-armed him, bad breath puffing into his face. The licorice twist he was chewing on migrated across his black- tinged lips.

  “I hope you’re not thinking about trying out for the indoor league,” said Edge in his best sneering voice.

  “So what if he is?” said Rhea who had just pushed open the doors, to stand defiantly next to Colin.

  “If he is--well,” said Edge becoming quickly confused. He hadn’t expected Rhea. “I suppose it’s all right, as long as he’s on your team.” His brain began to catch up with his meanness. “It’ll be a pleasure to beat you. See you suckers later. Rainbow and Rusty sitting in a tree…” he sang as the three boys left and burst into laughter and loud guffaws.

  “Don’t worry about them,” said Rhea, “they’re just afraid.”

  “Afraid of what?” asked Colin. “He’s right; I’m not a very good player.”

  “Well, even so, that doesn’t mean you can’t become a good player. They’re afraid because you’re different. They pick on anyone who’s different. Mom says it’s a defense mechanism. Hey, do you know if the police are still looking for Marcus?”

  Her sudden shift of topic caught him a little off guard and he stuttered, “No--I--didn’t…”

  They talked as they went through the doors and into the main body of the building. Rhea told him that her mom had been interviewed by the police and that they seemed to think that Marcus had purposely disappeared … likely something to do with tax evasion.

  The interior was divided into two big open spaces. The pitch was covered with a green carpet of artificial turf, and in the center there was a large platform upon which none other than Mr. Bone stood. He was saying something, waving about his thick fingers, face turning purple-red with effort, trying to make some point. Committee members sat behind him looking cowed, like bobble-headed puppets nodding and grinning with wide, false smiles every time Bone made a point. In front was a crowd of people.

  “What’s he doing here?” said Colin, any hope of actually playing now crushed out of existence.

  “He’s coaching again, but he also leads the Indoor Soccer committee. There are times when he can be useful,” explained Rhea apologetically as they edged up to the back of the crowd listening to Bone. “He thinks because he played professionally, everybody should listen to his ideas.”

  “He played professionally?”

  “He wasn’t a starter, although from the way he tells it, he thinks he was the star. Personally, I think he was the water boy. I put your name in the lottery already. They draw the names to see what team you get placed on.”

  This brought a bit of a smile to Colin’s face as he watched the pompous man run on, his cheeks working like billows, huffing and puffing out air over the heads of the audience. When he finally stopped, there was a collective, but polite, sigh of relief from the audience. When the committee was through dictating how things were going to run, everybody broke into small groups, chewing on donuts and sipping a terrible tasting sports drink concoction from the league’s new sponsor. The committee was busy over by a big dry-erase board scribbling down names as they were drawn out of a box. For a moment, as Colin chewed on his honey-glazed donut and sipped on his drink, he felt almost as though he belonged. Then Edge and his cronies found him. He gave an inner groan. If Edge didn’t like him, why did he always make a point of finding him? Colin was beginning to get irritated, which didn’t happen very often.

  “Hey, Rainbow, you’ll have to buy a shirt to play in this league. Think you can afford it?” snickered Edge. “Maybe somebody will knit you one!”

  Before he could say anything Rhea had shot back, “He can play on whatever team he’s drawn on, and he can wear whatever colors he wants to!”

  “Yeah!” he said grudgingly, “but he’ll have to find a team first.” There was something in the way he said ‘find’ that made it seem like it was going to be impossible to do.

  He was grateful when Edge and his lackeys lost interest in him and drifted away.

  “It’s all right, you know,” said Colin, “he doesn’t bother me too much.”

  “Well, he bothers me!” spat out Rhea acerbically. “You’re not the only one he bugs. He thinks I dye my hair red so that I can look “normal”. If I get put on the same team as him -- I…” She didn’t finish the threat, but instead pushed up anxiously to the white board where a committee member was posting the last names for the teams.

  There were twelve teams of five players each. Above each team was a number and a blank space for the eventual name of the team. Edge was standing beside his father, a smirk on his arrogant face. A committee member, a tall, slim man with sandy hair, averted his eyes from Rhea’s gaze, as though he was ashamed of something. Colin, now standing beside Rhea, felt her irritation beginning to crest.

  “Hey, where’s my name?” she demanded, when they seemed finished, “and Colin’s?”

  “Sorry, your two names were the last drawn,” explained Bone. “Just not enough kids to make up a thirteenth team. Better luck next time?”

  From the delighted expression on Bone’s face Colin knew he wasn’t sorry at all. Colin was ready to turn around and leave when Rhea grabbed his arm.

  “What if we can get three more players?” she asked determinedly.

  Bone pursed his lips in an attempt to look thoughtful. “Well, that would be allowable, but you’ll have to register tonight, no exceptions.”

  Edge was giving them a great cheesy, victorious grin.

  “Colin, if you can get another person, I can get my cousins, Tan and Chloe to play,” she whispered intensely, her eyes gleaming.

  “I could volunteer Spike. I hope your cousins are better than me.”

  “Would you quit going on about that! And no, they’re not better than you are. Tan spends all his time playing a stupid trading card game, and Chloe is into meditation and food, but I don’t care. It’s five, and that’s all we need. Mr. Bone,” said Rhea waving her arm about wildly.

  Bone, trying hard to ignore her, pretended to be engrossed in a discussion about donut sizes, but Rhea stepped in between him and the person he was talking to.

  “Excuse me!” he said testily.

  “We have the five players we need for a team.”

  Bone looked momentarily vexed and then a heated flush ran over his meaty head.

  “Yes, but you also need a coach and, from the look on your face, you don’t have one. Better luck next time!”

  “Not so fast, sonny boy!” sounded a lively, but weathered voice from behind them.

  Colin turned to see Rhea’s little Grandma pushing people out of her way like a tiny tugboat in a logjam. A few people yelped with surprise because her elbows made contact with their ribs. She halted in front of Bone. The top of her head didn’t even come up to his elbow, yet she demanded, and got his attention.

  “If my granddaughter need soccer coach, I be her coach!”

  “You know how
to coach?” asked Bone skeptically.

  “Sure, back home, in north, we play similar game, but we no use balls, we use nice round heads of enemies!”

  Bone swallowed hard.

  “Well, chop-chop, write name of my players on board, big man!”

  After Rhea had given the five names, and received a schedule of games, her Grandma put her arms around both Colin and Rhea and guided them away.

  “Grandma, I didn’t know that you were interested in soccer?”

  “I not, but I not about to let great big bully to stop you from playing. Now,” she said smiling innocently, “please explain, how you play soccer?”