Top Wing

by Matt Christopher

  “Good,” said Ms. Thompson. “Then we can expect your work to start improving. We’ll give it a few days and then talk about a makeup test.”

  “Thanks a lot, Ms. Thompson,” said Dana, making his exit.

  Instead of eating lunch in the school cafeteria, he took his sandwich and carton of milk outside. He settled down in a quiet spot, mostly surrounded by trees and bushes, to study for his afternoon classes. He had to do better on his schoolwork.

  Staring off into space, he tried to memorize some dates for history class. His eyes drifted to a corner of the school yard near the equipment shed. About half a dozen kids were hanging out there, trying to shelter one another.

  They were smoking. This was strictly against school policy, but some kids did it anyway. If anyone came near them, they threw the evidence into the nearby Dumpster.

  Dana caught a distant shout that sounded like “Hey, Bent!”

  He gazed across the field and saw Benton ambling toward the shed.

  When he got within twenty yards of the shed, Benton glanced back at the school building. For a split second, Dana thought Benton was looking right at him. But Benton turned away sharply and reversed direction. Putting on some speed, he jogged over to the side entrance of the school and disappeared.

  What was that all about? Dana wondered. Then the bell rang and, with a sigh, he closed his notebook and headed into the building.

  At the end of soccer practice that afternoon, Coach Kingsley had the team sit down in one long row on the bench. Then he walked up and down in front of them. He told them he was unhappy about the way they had been playing their games.

  “If you have problems off the field, leave them there,” he said. “This is a game of teamwork. You have to be looking around all the time to help out the rest of the team. And the rest of the team has to help you out. That goes for each and every one of you: wings, backs, goalie — the whole lot.

  “Now, we have a game with the Rams coming up on Thursday. When you show up for the game, show up to play on a team. If you can’t do that, don’t show up!”

  Dana caught the coach looking at him and Benton with more than the usual eye contact. Coach knows there’s something going on, he said to himself. Does he know what Benton’s been saying? Does he think the fire’s my fault — or my dad’s?

  But there was no sign that Coach Kingsley had anything on his mind except getting the Anchors to playing winning soccer.

  10

  The game with the Norristown Rams was about to start.

  Coach Kingsley gave the Anchors a few final words of advice.

  “We bungled our last two games,” he reminded them, “because we forgot we’re a team. Let’s not bungle this one! Forwards, set yourselves up to score. Halfbacks, set up the forwards. Fullbacks, you have to be the solid wall of defense.

  “You’re not going to win this game with a lot of fancy plays. But you have to keep your eyes open and take advantage of your opportunities. Move the ball around and play as a team!”

  “Team! Team! Anchors!” they all shouted, slapping high fives and tens all around.

  The coin was flipped. This time, Steve made the call.

  “Tails!” he shouted.

  Tails it was. The Anchors chose to kick. The Rams elected to defend the north goal.

  At the whistle, Steve kicked the ball to Jack. Jack aimed a kick right back at him, but booted it too hard. It landed midway into Rams territory before it touched down. Play was underway.

  Louie Ladd, the Rams’ center halfback, took it almost to the midfield stripe. Lance moved in on him and blocked him from gaining any more ground.

  They struggled for the ball before it squirted loose to the left side of the field. Abe was in position and snagged it. He started to move it toward the goal, then quickly passed it to Steve.

  The Anchors’ captain didn’t have an open shot at the goal, so he passed it over to Benton.

  Benton moved the ball a few feet before a Rams tackler blocked his way.

  Dana saw the tackler starting to breathe down on Benton. He broke away from his own blocker and worked his way over in Benton’s direction. He wondered whether Benton would give him the ball.

  He soon found out.

  Benton held out until he saw an opening behind him. He twisted around and just got off a little flick pass to Jack.

  But Jack wasn’t really in the clear. He had to struggle with a Ram tackler for the ball. The two of them were tangling legs when suddenly the whistle blew.

  Tweeeet!

  The referee turned toward Jack. The call was “Holding!”

  From where Dana stood, there was no doubt about it. Jack had grabbed the Ram’s arm and tried to shove him away.

  The ref placed the ball on the ground where the penalty was called. The Anchors and the Rams backed away the regulation ten yards.

  The Ram’s kick was bad. The ball slanted toward Steve. He caught it between his ankles, then started moving it toward the goal again.

  As the rest of the Anchors’ offense started running in that direction, Dana caught Benton’s eye. The right halfback just shrugged, with an innocent look on his face. Dana shook his head. Some people never learn, he thought. The coach might as well have talked to a wall.

  By now the play had shifted back to Anchors territory. The Rams had taken the ball away before the Anchors could even get close to the goal.

  Louie Ladd was threatening. He took a pass from the Rams’ left wing and turned toward the goal. There was no one near him. He drew back, ran forward, planted his left foot, and kicked with his right.

  The kick was a beauty — about four feet off the ground and angled straight toward the goal.

  But once again, Jazz came through. He trapped the kick with his chest and picked up the ball in the goal area. Then he booted it solidly downfield. The long, high kick took the ball some ten yards from the center line, just to the edge of the circle.

  Players from both teams raced after it. Dana halfheartedly approached the crowd scrambling for the loose ball.

  Jack Nguyen shook it loose. His toe got under the ball as he passed it over to Steve. The ball rose in the air, and Steve stopped it with his head.

  Luckily he was facing the right direction. The ball went careening into Rams territory.

  Dana bolted after it, trapped the ball, then dribbled it a couple of yards.

  Heads up, he thought. He looked around. There was Benton, running parallel with him on his left side. He was looking for the pass.

  For one moment, Dana wanted to treat Benton the same way everyone had treated him. You’ve ignored me, he thought — now I can do the same to you. But in the blink of an eye, he realized he’d be acting as dumb as everyone else. He’d be no better than Benton — and he’d be letting the coach and the team down. We have to play as a team, no matter what, he said to himself.

  He flicked the ball over to Benton, who trapped it with the inside of his left foot. Without looking at Dana, he started moving it downfield, toward the goal.

  Was he surprised that I passed it to him? Dana wondered. Who knows?

  Two Ram tacklers now converged on Benton. He aimed a kick toward a cluster of Anchors down near the goal, but the ball never made it that far. It ricocheted off the leg of one of his tacklers and bounced back upfield.

  Once again, the play shifted direction. As he ran upfield, Dana was surprised to hear Benton hacking and coughing up ahead of him. Is he still suffering from smoke he breathed in during the fire? Dana wondered. Maybe it did some serious damage to his lungs, after all. But Dad inhaled a lot more smoke. Look how much better he is now. …

  He couldn’t think about that any longer. The ball was loose in his general area of the field, just beyond the midfield line in Rams territory.

  Dana got to it in time to trap it with the inside of his right foot. He kept it under control until he saw an opening. Here was his chance to set up a goal.

  Eye on the ball, he booted a long pass downfield toward Lance. The
Anchors’ left halfback was all by himself. But he stumbled when the ball came to him. He just managed to trap the ball before the Rams’ defense bore down on him.

  Lance had to get rid of the ball. Dana, who had sped up along the right wing slot, was the only player in the clear. It was lose the ball or pass to him.

  Before Lance had a chance to do either, one of the Rams tacklers stole the ball away. He dribbled it to one side of the field, then booted it toward the Anchors’ goal.

  But his own teammate got in the way. The ball bounced off the leg of the other tackler and over to Dana.

  The rest of the Rams were moving toward Anchors territory. Dana had plenty of time to set up a good kick.

  He sent the ball rocketing toward the Rams’ goal.

  For a moment, he thought the kick would be good. But their goalie caught it about a yard in front of the goal. He wasted no time sending it back downfield.

  Dana recovered and turned in that direction. He found himself racing side by side with Benton. They went after the ball, each one trying to get there first.

  They both reached it pretty much at the same time.

  “Get out of here!” Benton snapped. “I’ll take it!”

  Dana stared at him. Why should he give up the ball to Benton? Who said Benton could decide?

  Benton struggled to control the ball. His breath was coming in gasps. The ball wiggled free, and Dana took it away.

  By now a bunch of Rams were bearing down on the two of them. Dana tried to set up a breakaway. He booted the ball way down the field, in the direction of the Rams’ goal. With any luck, Abe or Steve would get to it in time for a goal attempt.

  Steve almost had it, but there were too many Rams crowding around him. He struggled for control, but finally lost the ball to a Rams tackler. The ball went back upfield as play shifted once again.

  The Anchors’ defense did their best to hold them. They might have succeeded if Tucker hadn’t fallen. The Anchors’ fullback had charged into a crowd of Rams trying to snag the ball. He almost had it when he slipped on the grass and fell on his butt.

  The rest of the Anchors had held back, waiting to take over the ball from Tucker. Now there was no one in the way. The Rams’ right wing took his shot. He sent the ball flying to the left side of the goal area, just beyond Jazz’s reach. The ball went in for the game’s first score.

  The goal brought out the Rams’ supporters in full force. Dana couldn’t help but hear their cheers ring out.

  Rams, yell ‘Red’!

  Red!

  Rams, yell ‘White’!

  White!

  Rams, yell ‘Win’!

  Win!

  Rams, what do you say?

  Red! White! Win!

  A blur of red-and-white ribbons waved in the air.

  The Anchors’ cheerleaders weren’t about to take that sitting down. They rallied the crowd in their section of the stands.

  Brickety-axe, co-axe, co-axe,

  Hullabaloo, baloo,

  Anchors fight with all your might,

  Hurrah, for the red and blue!

  Anchors, Anchors, rah, rah, rah!

  Dana smiled. Too bad the team on the field wasn’t as feisty. Too bad they couldn’t seem to get their act together. Too bad they weren’t playing as a team.

  11

  There were only seven minutes left in the first half, with the Rams still leading, 1–0.

  “How are you doing?” Steve asked.

  Dana shrugged. “Okay.”

  “You sure?”

  Dana shrugged again, but this time kept silent.

  They jogged side by side down the field.

  “I had a little talk with Benton,” Steve said.

  “You did? About what?”

  “I told him to knock off those stories about the fire and about your father.”

  “You heard what he said about my dad’s work?” Dana almost stopped in his tracks.

  “You bet I did,” Steve said. “So I asked my dad about your father. He told me there isn’t a better electrician anywhere. Your dad did some work for him on a real estate development last year and saved him a bundle. Plus the workmanship was terrific, he said.”

  Dana’s heart swelled with pride.

  “So when I told him about the rumor going around, he got real angry,” Steve went on. “I figured it was time I put an end to it.”

  Dana’s mouth was so dry, he could hardly speak. But he managed to get out, “Thanks, Steve. Thanks a lot!”

  By then they were just inside the center line.

  “Let’s get that ball!” Steve shouted to his fellow Anchors.

  Dana headed over to the far corner of the field. He felt stronger and better than he had in a long time.

  But the Rams held on to the ball. The Anchors’ defense bore down, but they couldn’t stem the tide. Within a matter of seconds, the Rams had the ball inside the goal area.

  Watching Pete and Tucker trying to wrench the ball from a Rams halfback, Dana stood with his fists clenched. His knees were bent, ready to go after the ball if it came his way. All the while, he shouted encouragement.

  “Come on, Tuck! Come on, Pete! Get that ball!”

  In the midst of all the noise from both sides, someone must have heard him. He couldn’t tell who it was, but that someone sent the ball zooming straight at him.

  He was after it in a shot. Steve led the rest of the offense in the same direction. But the ball was all Dana’s. He trapped it with his chest, let it drop, then dribbled it toward midfield. Off to one side, he could see Jack Nguyen running parallel with him, waiting for a pass. At the same time, Rams tacklers were moving in, getting closer and closer. He could almost hear their breathing.

  He got within striking range, but there was a wall of defenders between him and the goal. He swiveled to one side, then turned to the other and passed the ball to Jack.

  Jack had the ball all by himself. There was one Ram fullback between him and a possible score.

  “Make it a winner, Jack!” Dana yelled.

  Jack drew back and booted the ball. But he had aimed his foot too high. Instead of flying through the air, the ball skittered on the grass.

  Abe and Steve swooped down after it. Abe got to it first. He kicked at it, slicing it back toward Dana.

  Dana trapped the ball with his feet. He dribbled it a few feet toward the goal, then positioned himself for the kick. He gave it his best shot.

  The ball took off like a meteor.

  Never had he kicked a ball that hard — and within microseconds, he wished he could pull it back. Abe had somehow gotten between Dana and the goal. The ball hit him in the back with a sickening thud. The force was so great, it knocked him over. The ball bounced over the goal line.

  “Abe!” Dana cried as the whistle sounded. The ref helped Abe to his feet, then positioned the ball for a goal kick. The Rams’ goalie booted it with all his might.

  There was a lot of groaning among the Anchors. But Abe only gave Dana a silent, steely glare.

  With a minute to go in the half, the Rams were threatening again. In fact, it seemed like an instant replay of the action before their goal earlier in the game.

  Again, Dana was a little outside the tangled struggle for the ball. As much as he wanted to get in there, he knew he had to stick to his position.

  Just when he was sure a penalty whistle would blow, the ball broke loose. Sam Mikula, the Rams’ left wing, snagged it. With only seconds left to play, he got set and booted the ball toward the goal. Jazz dived for it with all his might, but that wasn’t enough. He was at least two feet from the ball when it zipped between the goalposts and struck the back of the net.

  It sounded like the Fourth of July as the whistle finally signaled the end of the first half. The crowd erupted, and the Rams celebrated the score: 2-0, in their favor.

  “Tough luck, Dana,” Coach Kingsley said as the Anchors’ wing came off the field. “We almost had one there. If your kick had just been a few more inches to one side,
it would have been in there.”

  “That kick was hard enough to knock over an elephant,” said Steve, settling down on the bench.

  It sure had knocked over Abe, Dana thought. Now he and Benton have another reason to gripe about me.

  The coach reviewed the first half with them. He pointed out problems, like not enough passing and lack of concentration.

  “When you get the ball, look around,” he told them. “Figure out where you want to go, what you want to do with it. Then act fast. Don’t just grab the ball and plunge straight ahead into a mess in the middle.”

  He made a few final points. Then he called Dana and Benton over to one side.

  “Look, I don’t know what’s going on between you two,” he said quietly. “But whatever it is, cut it out. You’re hurting the team. So don’t take your personal problems out on the field with you.

  “I’m surprised at the two of you. You’re neighbors. And everyone knows that Dana’s father saved your life, Benton. So, will someone please tell me what’s the problem?”

  “Nothing,” said Benton, staring at the ground.

  “Nothing? Hey, I’m not blind, Benton. I can see the freezing going on out there. What about you, Dana? Are you going to tell me it’s nothing, too?”

  Dana shuffled his toe in the grass. “All I know is that Bentons going around saying it’s my family’s fault his house burned down to the ground.”

  Benton started to say something, but choked out a cough instead.

  “He says my dad did a lousy job wiring their house, too, and that’s how the fire started. But he’s wrong! My dad —”

  “My mother ought to know. She says an electrical problem caused the fire!” Benton cut in bitterly.

  “That doesn’t mean anything,” Dana argued. “ ’Sides, she’s just guessing!”

  “What do you know, anyhow? You can’t even remember when someone asks you to do something!” Benton snapped.

  “Okay, you two, knock it off — right now!” said the coach. “Listen, if you both want to keep playing for this team, you put all that out of your minds and play ball. Sounds like you’re both shooting your mouths off too much. Now, shake hands and promise me you’re going to deal with it later — peacefully. For now, you’re going to put the good of the team first.”