Top Wing

by Matt Christopher

  Neither boy rushed forward. Dana slid his toe back and forth on the ground. Benton didn’t look up.

  “My patience is running out,” the coach warned.

  Then Dana stuck out his hand. Benton followed his lead.

  “Good!” said Coach Kingsley. “Now get out there and put some life into this game!”

  With a two-goal lead, the Rams were riding high. Even though the Anchors played a tougher game, the Rams still controlled the ball during the start of the second half.

  Dana ached to get in on some real action. Too much of his time was spent getting set for plays that never came about. Time and again, a stray ball was the only thing that came his way.

  All the time, he wondered whether Benton would keep his part of the coach’s deal. Deep down, he doubted it.

  And, anyhow, he thought, how can anyone expect me to forgive Benton? My father saved his life — and his sister’s — and he turns around and blames him for the fire!

  A roar from the crowd pulled his attention toward the Anchors’ goal. Their defense was tied up in a battle to hold off a determined Rams offense.

  Dana watched anxiously. First the Rams had the ball, then the Anchors, then the Rams.

  “Get it out of there, guys!” he yelled. “Come on, Anchors!”

  The Anchors dug in. It was worth it.

  A Rams wing had worked his way into the clear by a few feet. He rushed forward and booted the ball toward the goal. It wasn’t a great kick, but it looked like it was going in.

  Jazz lunged after it. For one second, it looked like he wouldn’t reach it. But he did. He stopped the ball with his open palm and tipped it in front of the goal line.

  Pete Morris swept by and booted the ball the other way. The late afternoon sun blinded Dana for a minute, but then he saw the ball traveling just beyond him.

  “Way to go, Jazz! Way to go, Pete!” he shouted as he ran after it. In the distance, he could hear the Anchors’ cheerleaders. They were calling for a double locomotive for Jazz and Pete.

  Jack Nguyen got to the ball before Dana. He stopped it, dribbled forward, then passed it over to Lance. It traveled a few more yards toward the goal, then Lance booted it over to Abe.

  The Rams targeted the Anchors’ left wing. Two tacklers moved in on him from across the field. Abe saw the coming onslaught. He passed the ball cross-field to Benton.

  Dana was just a few feet in front of him. A pack of Rams closed in on Benton now. He had to get rid of the ball or lose it to one of the enemy. So he passed it to Steve.

  Just like Abe, he could have passed it to me, Dana realized. As he watched Steve go after the ball, a new idea crossed his mind. I bet the Rams have figured it out. They know I’m not going to get the ball. That’s why I’m not being covered!

  Steve must have made the same discovery. He flicked the ball over to Dana, who was closer to the goal — and open.

  Dana caught the ball with his knees. He let it drop in front of him, then came at it from an angle and booted it to the left side of the goalie.

  Score!

  The Anchors were finally on the scoreboard, one goal behind the Rams.

  Dana felt ten feet tall. He leapt into the air for joy.

  “Nice shot, Dana,” said Steve, slapping him on the back. A few teammates waved in his direction. Most of them just looked at the scoreboard and cheered.

  The goal seemed to have awakened the Rams’ defense. They dug in and worked hard to keep the Anchors from scoring another.

  Most of Dana’s time was spent traveling back and forth across the center line. He stayed alert, waiting for an opportunity to come his way. Once he got a chance to take the ball away from a Rams forward in his territory. But a penalty was called on the other side of the field. The Rams kept the ball in their control.

  They took it all the way to the Anchors’ goal area. It looked as though they were set for an easy goal. Louie Ladd was in the clear and kicked the ball toward the far right side of the net. Jazz was way over to the left. There was no way he could stop it.

  But out of nowhere, Tucker leapt in front of the ball. It walloped him on the side of the head and sent him reeling. The ball bounced high up into the air, then out of bounds.

  “Great save, Tucker!” Dana called to him. “That’s using your head!”

  There was no reaction from Tucker. He was obviously dazed.

  The Anchors’ defense was clearly starting to tire. The Rams held on to the ball until they were back in scoring position. All three Rams forwards were in the clear when Sam Mikula, their left wing, took his shot. He feinted Jazz to one side, then booted the ball to the other.

  The black-and-white ball sailed across the goal line and into the net.

  The scoreboard now read: Rams 3, Anchors 1.

  “Come on, you guys,” shouted Coach Kingsley. “You can do it! Plenty of time!”

  But the clock showed that less than ten minutes remained in the game.

  Then, once again, Dana got another opportunity to help the team. He got a pass from Steve, who was running alongside him. They were halfway between the center line and the penalty area. On their left, a Rams fullback was approaching, hoping for an interception. Way to the left, Abe Strom was also running down toward the goal.

  As the Rams tackler approached him, Dana passed the ball over to Steve. The tackler shifted direction. Steve flicked the ball back to Dana.

  Dana dribbled it a few yards, then half-turned and booted it over to Abe, who was now all by himself.

  But the kick was too strong and a little too far to one side. It bypassed Abe and bounced out of bounds.

  Instead of setting up a goal, he had blown the Anchors’ chances.

  Dana could feel the chill blowing toward him from almost the entire team. Across the field, Benton looked as though he was going to shout something mean, but he shook his head and frowned instead.

  Dana knew he couldn’t let it get him down. If he did, he’d be useless on the field.

  Still, he dragged a little as he ran back up the field to get in position for a pass. As he jogged along, just inside the sideline, he heard someone in the stands speak sharply.

  “Say, pal, would you mind putting out your cigarette? I have a lung problem. Smoke really bothers me. Okay?”

  “Sure,” came the answer. “Wish you’d said something sooner. No problem.”

  The brief conversation made him think of his father. Would Dad have to be extra careful to sit in the “No Smoking” section from now on? he wondered. And what about Benton? How bad are his lungs now? Look at him over there, huffing and puffing.

  Benton had slowed down a lot by now. A pass in his direction from Mike went right by him. Dana recovered it and started dribbling it downfield, toward the Rams’ goal. Two halfbacks were nearby and went after him. He waited until they were almost on top of him. Then he booted it to Steve, who was running alongside and calling to him.

  Here you go, Steve, he thought. It’s all yours. It’s about time I set you up for a goal.

  In a single motion, the Rams’ backs turned onto Steve, who flicked the ball over to Lance.

  By now the action was well over the center line, moving closer and closer to the goal.

  Dana kept up with Steve and Lance as they gradually advanced.

  Suddenly Steve slowed down. Dana was about five yards to his right and a few feet behind. The Rams seemed to have forgotten about him — or they were counting him out again.

  That was their mistake. Steve half-turned and passed the ball to Dana.

  He trapped it with his right shin and stepped on it. Then he drew back a few steps and moved in for the kick. Head down, he drew back his right foot and booted the ball squarely with his instep. There was a thud as the ball made contact with the top of his laces.

  The hard, solid kick went right where Dana wanted it to go — to the wide open space at the left side of the goal.

  Score!

  The stands went wild, shouting his name. Dana Bellamy, the Anchors’
right wing, had just scored his second goal of the game.

  The score now read: Rams 3, Anchors 2.

  12

  As play resumed, Dana noticed that the other guys weren’t so cool to him. Maybe they don’t buy all the rotten things Benton’s been saying about me, he thought. Or maybe it’s just ’cause I’m scoring some goals. I hope they can see I’m not letting him get to me. I’m still doing all I can for the team.

  There was no time to brood about his problems. He had to keep up with the ball as it moved back and forth, up and down the field.

  With just a few minutes remaining, Paul Crayton stole the ball from a Rams forward, deep in Anchors territory. A quick look around showed that he had a clear field toward the Rams’ goal. He got off a solid boot for a breakaway, hoping that one of the Anchors’ midfielders or forwards would make it pay off.

  For a moment, it looked as though it would — until a Rams tackler stole the ball from under Benton’s nose.

  The proud possessor of the ball didn’t have much time to gloat, however. Dana moved in on him and blocked a flick pass to his left. Steve got the ball on the rebound and started to set up a goal play.

  He faked a pass to Dana on his right, then drew back a few steps. He kicked the ball with all his might.

  “That sucker’s gone!” Dana yelled.

  He was right.

  The game was now tied: Rams 3, Anchors 3.

  The entire team broke out in shouts and cheers. They exchanged both high fives and tens, clapped each other on the shoulders, and danced for joy.

  Dana noticed that in the midst of all the hoopla, Benton stayed away from him. He tried to tell himself that it didn’t matter, but he knew that deep down it did.

  Stunned by the sudden change on the scoreboard, the Rams dug in. As soon as they got the ball, they moved it right across the center line. Within seconds, they were deep in Anchors territory.

  But the Anchors were revved up, too. They pressed as hard as they could — just a little too hard.

  As Louie Ladd tried to position himself for a goal attempt, Tucker moved in to steal the ball from him.

  Tweeeet!

  The referee pointed at Tucker. “Holding!” he announced.

  Dana had seen it happen. Tucker had lost his balance and started to slip. He automatically reached for something to keep from falling. It hadn’t seemed like an intentional violation, but the ref had decided it was.

  “Direct free kick,” he called.

  This could be the final straw for the Anchors, Dana thought as he saw the Rams get set.

  But the kicker was too anxious. The ball was way too high. It sailed over the goal by about two feet.

  Maybe there was still time for the Anchors to win the game after all.

  On the coach’s signal, Mike Vass got into position for the goal kick. He gave the ball a good wallop downfield, right to Steve. Steve trapped it with his chest, turned, and headed with it toward the Rams’ goal. Before he got very far, he was hemmed in by two Rams tacklers.

  Abe was nearby, but a swarm of Rams was waiting to descend on him. Dana was in the clear on his right. Steve flicked the ball over to the Anchors’ right wing.

  Dana caught it on his shin, let it drop, then started dribbling toward the goal. He was just about to kick it when he noticed Benton nearby.

  Benton was all by himself. There wasn’t a single Ram within ten yards. It was a perfect spot for a goal attempt.

  Dana was in a predicament. He could pass it to Benton or go for the goal himself.

  He kicked.

  Thud!

  The minute his toe made contact with the ball, he knew it was all wrong. The ball went flying too far to the left — and out of bounds.

  Benton shot him a look that would have peeled the skin off a crocodile. Dana turned red and looked away from him.

  Had he gotten greedy? Or was it Benton? Would he have passed the ball if someone else had been where Benton was? A goal that late in the game could have won it for the Anchors.

  To everyone else, it was just a missed goal, but Dana was sure Benton thought it was more than that.

  Meanwhile, now that the Rams had control of the ball, they got ready for a final push. A few lucky breaks and a tired Anchors defense worked to their advantage.

  With just seconds left to play, Louie Ladd made a “do or die” attempt. Breaking away from a tangle in the center of Anchors territory, he wasted no time. He booted a twenty-yard kick that sent the ball scurrying by Jazz and into the net.

  Whistles blew all over the field as the score went up on the board and the game ended.

  Rams 4, Anchors 3.

  As the two teams trotted off the field, there wasn’t much cheering on the Anchors’ side. No one had much to say. The members of the team drifted away in groups of two or three. A few straggled off by themselves.

  Dana was one of the stragglers.

  There was no practice the day after the game. Instead, right after school, Mrs. Bellamy took Dana and Christy over to the hospital.

  “Dad, they got you into a chair!” Christy shouted.

  Mr. Bellamy laughed. “No, I did it all by myself. I worked on it before you got here and — presto! — here I am.”

  Dana went over and hugged his father. He was too happy to speak.

  Mrs. Bellamy kissed her husband, then asked, “They’re releasing you tomorrow?”

  “Right. But don’t bother coming over before eleven o’clock. That’s when the whistle blows and the prisoners make a dash for freedom.”

  Dana smiled. Mr. Bellamy’s good humor was back in full force.

  “So, what’s new back there? How’d your game go yesterday, Dana?”

  Dana told him the sad result.

  “But Dana, two goals! Wow! You must have passed Steve Rapids by now,” said Mr. Bellamy. “Imagine … top wing, Dana Bellamy,” said his father. “Of course,” he went on, “that’s not what’s important — except that it shows you’re not giving up just because the team is in a slump. It’s times like that when everyone has to pitch in — you, Steve, Benton, and all the guys.”

  Dana and his mother exchanged questioning looks. Was this the time to tell him about the stories going around? He was bound to find out sooner or later. If he were coming home tomorrow …

  “Want me to tell him, Mom?” Dana asked.

  Mr. Bellamy looked from one to the other. “Tell me what?” he asked. “What’s the big secret?”

  “Go ahead,” said Mrs. Bellamy.

  “First of all,” Dana said, “the Crawfords are mad because you and Mom didn’t go over to their house earlier the night of the fire. They think if you had, you might have smelled smoke or something, and the house wouldn’t have burned down.”

  “But they never asked us to stop in and check on the kids,” Mr. Bellamy said. “We didn’t know they were going to a wedding.”

  “I’ve heard they thought we did know,” said Mrs. Bellamy.

  “Benton said he told me to tell you, but he didn’t,” Dana insisted. “I swear. And Steve is a witness.”

  “No need to swear,” said Mr. Bellamy. “We should be able to clear that up.”

  “Except that Grace Crawford won’t take my calls,” said Mrs. Bellamy. “She’s hiding behind the answering machine.”

  “And there’s more,” Dana added.

  “More?”

  “The Crawfords think it was your fault the fire got started in the first place,” Dana said. “Benton said they’re convinced that you did a crummy job when you rewired the house. And now that rumor is going around town.”

  “What!” Mr. Bellamy looked shocked. “The Crawfords started this rumor?”

  “Well, they haven’t taken out an ad in the newspaper,” said Mrs. Bellamy. “But almost all the neighbors are talking about it.”

  “And Letitia doesn’t even speak to me in school,” said Christy. She thrust out her lower lip in a pout.

  “That’s nothing compared to how Benton’s been acting toward me,�
�� said Dana. “Especially during Anchors’ games.”

  Mr. Bellamy’s face was flushed with anger. “I just can’t believe it,” he said. “We’ve been friends with the Crawfords for so long, ever since they moved next door.” He shook his head back and forth.

  “Don’t get excited, dear,” said Mrs. Bellamy.

  “But they should know I wouldn’t do anything but my best for them,” Mr. Bellamy continued. “And I’m not exactly new to electrical work.”

  “That’s what I tried to tell Benton, but he won’t even give me the time of day,” said Dana.

  “Letitia stuck out her tongue at me,” said Christy.

  “It’s just unreal,” said Mr. Bellamy. “I saved Ben-ton’s life that night — and hers, too.”

  “That’s what makes it all so awful,” said Mrs. Bellamy.

  As he sat there watching the sadness in his father’s face, Dana knew he had to do something. There had to be some way to prove that it wasn’t his father’s fault.

  “If only I could get to Benton,” Dana said. “Remind him of all the fun we used to have together — on the soccer field, watching videos, playing cards in his secret hiding place. …”

  “Secret hiding place?” echoed Mrs. Bellamy.

  “Well, it wasn’t any big deal,” Dana explained. “Benton used to call it that. It was just a little corner of the attic, behind some trunks and boxes.”

  “So, why’d he call it secret?” Christy asked.

  “ ’Cause he had this big overstuffed chair and stuff up there he could use when he wanted to be alone. He likes to read up there, and once I saw this metal box with a DO NOT TOUCH sign on it. I guess that’s where he kept his lucky key rings and stuff like that.”

  “Oh yes, I remember seeing that when I was looking over the attic,” Mr. Bellamy said. “There’s an old fan up there and-a few outlets. That’s the only part of the house I didn’t rewire. The Crawfords insisted that it wasn’t necessary, since no one ever spent much time up there, but I did warn them not to plug anything into those outlets.

  “Funny thing, though, just a few weeks ago, Mert decided they wanted to have the work done after all. So I went ahead and ordered the parts.”