Top Wing

by Matt Christopher

  The black-and-white leather sphere rammed into the net for a goal.

  Dana’s heart swelled as he heard the crowd roar. Then the Anchors’ cheerleaders took up the cry:

  Give me a D!

  D!

  Give me an A!

  A!

  Give me an N!

  N!

  Give me an A!

  A!

  What do you have?

  Dana! Dana! Dana!

  Hooray!

  8

  Steve came running over and gave Dana a high five. But with a 3–1 score and the clock ticking away, there was no time to waste. If the Anchors were going to make any headway, they had to get the ball back quickly.

  Abe took care of that. After the starting kick, he bore down on Buzz Saw Wallace and took the ball away with some fancy footwork. Then he booted it downfield all the way to Steve, who was in the clear.

  Steve brought it into the penalty area before he was sandwiched between two Grizzlies tacklers. He got off a little flick pass to Benton before they completely boxed him in.

  Wheezing and puffing, Benton took the ball almost into the goal area before he, too, was surrounded.

  He could have passed it to me, Dana said to himself, sighing. He could have.

  Instead, Benton heel-kicked the ball. Jack went for it, but it got by him. The Grizzlies took control and broke away toward the goal.

  Thunk!

  The ball went crashing into the net for another score.

  Grizzlies 4, Anchors 1.

  “We still can do it!” shouted Steve. “Come on, you Anchors!”

  Steve hasn’t given up, and neither will I, Dana said to himself as play continued.

  But it would take more than their determination, he knew. The rest of the team had to pitch in.

  A few seconds later, Dana got another chance to help out the Anchors with a score. A midfield snarl had produced a drop ball. Jack was on the spot for the Anchors.

  The ball squiggled over to Lance, who passed it on to Steve. The Anchors’ captain dribbled the ball toward the goal as best he could. A swarm of Grizzlies bore down on him from all sides.

  Steve glanced to his left, then to his right. Then he kicked the ball with the instep of his left foot in Dana’s direction.

  Running after it with all the speed he could muster, Dana got to the ball a split second before a hungry Grizzlies defenseman.

  Over on the far side of the field, Lance and Abe made a big show of calling for the pass from Dana. But the Anchors’ right wing booted the ball swiftly back to Steve.

  Steve trapped it with his left foot. For a moment, it looked like he would go for a goal kick even though the path was blocked. He drew back his foot — then surprised everyone by flicking the ball over to Dana.

  All alone and in the clear, Dana trapped the ball. He then quickly sent it flying toward the goal.

  It was a perfect shot.

  Goal!

  The score now read: Grizzlies 4, Anchors 2.

  “All right!” Dana shouted, waving his fist in the air. See, guys, the coach was right, he wanted to add. Teamwork pays off.

  “Nice work, Dana!” Steve called over to him.

  “Thanks, Steve,” he replied. “Thanks for the pass.”

  As play started up again, Dana caught Benton’s eye. There was no joy beaming in his direction from that corner of the field.

  There was no time to worry about Benton and his deep freeze act now. He would take care of that later.

  The Anchors seemed to be coming alive. That’s what mattered. Now if they could only hold off the Grizzlies — and keep that ball moving among themselves. It was their only hope. But everyone had to do his part. Everyone had to play one hundred percent for the team.

  As he ran upfield to get in position for a pass from the defense, Dana could see Benton lagging behind. At one point, he saw him lean over, hands on knees, panting for breath.

  No one else seemed to notice.

  “Benton, are you okay?” he called.

  But Benton straightened up, shot him a look, and rejoined the action.

  Two Grizzlies were passing the ball back and forth in the Anchors’ penalty area. Jack was ping-ponging back and forth between them when Pete worked his way in and stole the ball.

  Jack broke loose and trapped Pete’s pass. He booted the ball back downfield, toward the Grizzlies’ goal. It almost went out of bounds near the midfield stripe when Benton stopped it.

  He twisted around to start moving it toward the goal. But two Grizzlies were in his way, so instead, he booted it over to Abe. Then he rushed off toward the goal.

  Before Benton could get there, a coughing fit overtook him. Again, he doubled over hacking and wheezing.

  Abe searched frantically for someone in the clear.

  There was no one in front of him, but Dana was only ten feet to his right, all by himself.

  “Abe!” Dana shouted. “Over here!” Frantically, he waved and shouted.

  Abe ignored him. Instead, he tried to dribble the ball forward. He managed to squeeze by a few Grizzlies tacklers and gain a few more yards. He glanced in Dana’s direction, then toward the goal. Then, seconds before a Grizzlies fullback reached him, Abe gave the ball a hard, solid boot. It went zooming toward the goal.

  But it never made it. The Grizzlies defender blocked the ball right in front of the goal line.

  “Abe!” Dana yelled. “I was clear. Why didn’t you pass the ball?”

  “Didn’t see you,” Abe muttered.

  Dana stared at him. It’s like he’s taking Benton’s side, he thought angrily. I can’t believe Abe would turn against me just because he thinks I didn’t tell my parents about a wedding! But what else could it be?

  For a moment, Dana felt like quitting. What good was it to keep on playing all by himself? How could he pretend there was an Anchors team on the field?

  On the other hand, what would quitting accomplish? It might even make the guys think Benton was right, that he had somehow been responsible for the fire. No, he had to keep on playing.

  Some fancy footwork by the Grizzlies put the ball back in Anchors territory, where they struggled to defend their goal. Dana stayed out of the thick of things, hoping the ball would come his way rather than Jazz’s.

  Then he finally got it, on a forward pass from Jack. He started dribbling down the field, looking for an open receiver.

  But it seemed he was all alone. Steve was closely covered, and Benton seemed hardly able to keep up, he was wheezing so hard. Luckily, through some really good moves and fancy dribbling, Dana held off the enemy.

  Look at this, you wise guys, he thought, who needs all of you?

  Then, while his head was all swelled up, a Grizzlies tackler snatched the ball right out from under his nose.

  Dana stood there in a daze.

  “Should’ve passed it, dummy!” a voice behind him shouted.

  It was Lance. The Anchor halfback gave him a look that could have turned a green banana to brown. Then he dashed back into Anchors territory, where the Grizzlies were again threatening.

  Dana broke out of his fog and raced down the field along with the rest of the team.

  He couldn’t get over it. Dummy! Lance never called anybody names.

  Coach Kingsley must have heard the comment. He signaled for Lance to come out. Mac Reese went in for him.

  But Mac only got to play for a few minutes before the whistle blew.

  The game ended with a victory for the Grizzlies, 4–2.

  Dana knew he couldn’t let the rotten situation go on. He had to clear things up with Benton.

  The coach was obviously disappointed in the way the Anchors had played. Before they left the field, he called them over to one side.

  “I think you all know what’s going wrong,” he said. “I’m not going to say anything more until next practice. Everyone had better be there!”

  Benton turned to pick up his knapsack. As he lifted it off the bench, a T-shirt covered with dark
smudges fell out.

  Dana stooped down and picked it up. He thought the shirt smelled like smoke, but before he could be sure, Benton had whisked it out of his hands and stuffed it back into his sack.

  Dana planted himself in front of his teammate. Angry as he was, he could hear his mom’s voice saying, “You can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.” Okay, he decided, I’ll give it a try.

  As gently as possible, he asked, “Benton, I’ve been wanting to talk to you all week. I tried to get you before the game today, but you weren’t here. I think we need to clear the air about —”

  Benton suddenly straightened up and snapped at him. “I don’t have anything to say to you — or anyone else in your family!”

  “Wait a minute!” Dana protested. “You can’t keep blaming me or my folks for what happened to your house. You never asked me to tell my mom and dad that your folks were going out that night. It wasn’t their fault the fire got out of control!”

  “Oh, yeah?” Benton sneered. “Well, for your information, the fire was all your father’s fault in the first place!”

  Dana was dumbfounded. “My father? You’re nuts!”

  “You think so? Your old man, the ‘brilliant’ electrician, did a lousy wiring job on our house. If it wasn’t for that, we’d still be living there, not across town in some crummy apartment. And … and I wouldn’t be coughing so much from the smoke that got in my lungs from the fire!”

  “Benton! How can you say that? The smoke must have gotten into your brain!”

  “My mother told me. She said it all happened on account of electrical problems. And your father rewired our house last year, so it’s all his fault!”

  Dana stared at him in disbelief.

  “She’s wrong! My dad’s an electrical engineer. He designs wiring for new houses and stores and offices. There’s no one who knows more about electricity and wiring, and … and the fire couldn’t have happened ’cause of his work!”

  By now, just about everyone had left the field. Some of the Anchors and fans were down near the entrance gate. Benton had gotten his wind back and rushed off to join them.

  “Besides,” Dana called after him, “You’re forgetting one big thing. My dad saved your life! And your sister’s! And —”

  But by this time, Benton was beyond the sound of his voice.

  9

  Four to two, that’s a shame,” said Mrs. Bellamy. “But Dana, you scored both goals for your team. You must be very proud — and happy, at least, about that.”

  “Uh-huh,” Dana replied. He closed the car door and slumped down in the seat.

  “You don’t sound all that cheerful,” she said.

  “Are you and Benton mad at each other?” Christy piped up from the backseat. “I saw you looking at him like he was poison — and he acted like you were the ’lectric chair.”

  Dana hesitated. He just couldn’t keep it to himself. Benton’s accusation was too … too … it was rotten!

  “Benton’s a no-good, miserable, dirty —”

  “Whoa! Wait a minute!” exclaimed Mrs. Bellamy. “What’s going on? You don’t use that kind of language, Dana.”

  “Well, Benton said something really bad.”

  “Did he use a naughty word, like —”

  “Christy!” Mrs. Bellamy snapped. “Quiet down! Now, Dana, what did Benton say?”

  Dana gritted his teeth. “He said his mother told him it was Dad’s fault their house caught on fire.”

  “What?” Mrs. Bellamy’s hands clutched the steering wheel. “Grace Crawford blames the fire on your father?”

  “Uh-huh. She says the house caught on fire because of an electrical problem. And ’cause Dad did the wiring, the Crawfords blame him.”

  “This is incredible,” said Mrs. Bellamy. “How could the Crawfords jump to such a hasty conclusion?”

  “Why would Dad want to burn down their house, anyhow?” Christy said, fuming. “It’s stupid. The Crawfords are stupid!”

  “Christy, behave yourself,” said Mrs. Bellamy. “I’m sure the fire upset Grace very badly. So naturally, she’s grasping at anything she thinks might be an answer to why it happened. And when she heard electrical, well, one thing led to another.”

  “Sounds pretty weak to me,” said Dana.

  “As far as I know, the insurance company hasn’t finished its investigation,” Mrs. Bellamy went on. “No one can be sure how the fire started.”

  “I’m just telling you what Benton said,” Dana insisted. Then something occurred to him. “Maybe he told the guys on the team! That could be why Abe and Lance are ganging up on me.”

  “I’ll give Grace a call,” said Mrs. Bellamy. “Meanwhile, let’s not make things worse by jumping to any conclusions like that, Dana. And don’t say anything about this to your father. We don’t want to worry him while he’s getting better. He’d have a fit!”

  When they arrived at Mr. Bellamy’s room, they found him sitting up. He was sipping ginger ale through a bent straw. Both of his hands were free. There wasn’t a single tube sticking into him.

  “Way to go, Dad,” said Dana cheerfully. “You ought to be leaving here pretty soon, right?”

  “Not as soon as I’d like,” said Mr. Bellamy. “Doc Higgins said they have to monitor my breathing for a few more days. They want to make sure there are no glitches … or whatever he called it.”

  “Last thing you want is a case of glitches,” said Mrs. Bellamy, smiling at him.

  “Right, Dad,” said Christy. “They’re almost as bad as the itches.”

  “Or even worse, the twitches,” suggested Dana.

  “Or the snitches,” said Christy.

  “The britches,” offered Dana.

  “The kritches!” shouted Christy.

  Mr. Bellamy pinched his nose and grunted, Braaaaack! No such word. You lose. By the way, how did your game go, Dana?”

  “Lose is the right word,” Dana admitted. “We lost, four to two. But, well, I scored both goals.”

  “Both goals? Wow, you must be right up there with Steve Rapids.”

  “Yeah, I guess we’re tied now,” said Dana. “Funny, I haven’t even thought about that.”

  “Good,” said Mr. Bellamy. “It’s more important to concentrate on teamwork. I’m still proud of you. Come on over here,” he beckoned.

  Mr. Bellamy raised one arm and slowly extended his open palm.

  Dana caught the signal. He went over to the bed and gave his father a gentle high five.

  Mrs. Phillips marched into the room waving a thermometer. “I think that’s enough excitement in this room for today,” she declared. “Besides, it’s almost time for our snack.”

  “Hot fudge sundae with marshmallow and chopped walnuts?” asked Mr. Bellamy with a twinkle in his eye.

  “Cranberry juice and a vanilla cookie,” she said.

  Mr. Bellamy groaned.

  As Dana, his mom, and Christy piled into the car in the hospital parking lot a few minutes later, Dana said, “If Dad knew what the Crawfords are saying, he would —”

  “Let me worry about that,” said Mrs. Bellamy. “I’ll talk to Grace Crawford and see if we can clear that up.”

  Dana strapped on his seat belt. He wasn’t sure that would be enough. He had to find a way to clear his father’s name and shut Benton up once and for all.

  It was barely daylight when Dana got out of bed the next morning. He dressed quietly, then tiptoed downstairs. As he opened the hall closet to get his jacket, he noticed that the kitchen light was on.

  The closet door squeaked as he pushed it shut.

  “Dana? Christy? Who’s up so early?” came a voice from the kitchen.

  Dana found his mother seated at the round oak kitchen table. She held a steaming cup of coffee in her hand.

  “Aren’t you the early bird!” she said.

  “I … uh … just wanted to get outside and … uh … have a look around,” he mumbled. “Did you call Mrs. Crawford?”

  “I called last night. Go
t an answering machine,” Mrs. Bellamy said. “I left a message, but I haven’t heard from her yet.”

  “Figures,” said Dana.

  “That’s not nice, Dana,” she said. “And what do you mean ‘have a look around’?”

  “Mmmmmm, you know. See what I can find out.”

  “Dana, I don’t want you going near the Crawford house. It’s dangerous. Just keep away. The insurance company will find out how the fire started. That will clear everything up.”

  “But —,” Dana started to protest.

  “No buts about it,” she said firmly. “Now, just put away your jacket and come sit down. I’ll make your favorite breakfast — buttermilk pancakes.”

  He knew she wouldn’t change her mind, so he did as she said. But he was sure the pancakes would stick in his throat.

  The situation at school was pretty much the same as on the field. Benton avoided him. Abe and Lance weren’t as obvious, but he could still feel a chill around them.

  Never mind, he thought, I have other things on my mind — like this geography test staring me in the face.

  There were a lot of blank spaces on his paper when the bell rang at the end of class.

  When he turned in the test, Ms. Thompson, the geography teacher, looked it over quickly.

  “Dana Bellamy!” she called just before he got out the door.

  She looked him straight in the eye. “You haven’t answered even half the questions. Your work has gone downhill in the last few days. Is there something wrong?”

  How could he tell her what was bothering him? Was he going to say, “Benton’s mad at me,” like a two-year-old? Or “Benton’s telling lies about my father,” like a four-year-old? No, he had to handle this on his own.

  “I’ve had a lot on my mind” was all he could admit.

  Ms. Thompson sighed. “Yes, I know about your father being in the hospital. But it’s not going to help him to hear that you’re failing in school, Dana. How is he progressing, by the way?”

  “He’s a lot better,” said Dana. “We expect him home any time now.”