Cory's in Goal

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Cory's in Goal Page 5

by Chris Hampton

Chapter 5

  “What’s all that stuff?” Cory asked, his face close to Gene’s monitor screen. Gene was looking through one of his flashdrives for the goalkeeper material, projecting it on the monitor from his iPad.

  “This drive has all my research,” Gene answered. “The latest Quantum Theory stuff, Starwater, The Electric Universe, CMEs…”

  “CMEs?”

  Gene leaned back for a moment and looked at Cory.

  “Coronal Mass Ejection, duh.” He said, then laughed. “Energetic pulses from the sun that sometimes hit the earth’s magnetic shield.”

  The science they studied in school never mentioned CMEs or The Electric Universe.

  Gene clicked on an icon that said Soccer Training and it opened. He then clicked on the Winning Goalkeeper Training Methods folder.

  “Here you go, my man.” A picture grew on the screen. The figure of a goalkeeper filled half the monitor, then shrunk back showing him standing in front of a goal. “Just a little touch I added,” Gene said proudly. "Watch this.”

  A ball came into view from the right side, hurdling quickly towards the goalkeeper. The action had a 3D effect. Cory was amazed. The goalkeeper suddenly came alive and dove to the corner, snagging the ball with his hands, then stood up and performed a victory dance. The speakers Gene had hooked up barked with the sound of a cheering crowd.

  The boys started laughing and when Gene accidentally snorted, taking in a breath, they laughed even harder. For the next couple of hours, the boys went between viewing the goalkeeping lessons to playing games. Then, they heard a knock on the door.

  “Are you boys okay in there?” Gene's mom asked through the door.

  “Just fine, mom,” Gene answered. “We’re on the computer.”

  “Are you two hungry? It’s getting late.” Their eyes lit up. They had forgotten about food. “If Cory wants to stay I'll make pizza.” Gene quickly looked at Cory.

  “Yes!” both boys shouted in unison.

  The boys turned back to the screen, Gene tapping the mouse. The boys went back to the goalkeeper training video, then explored some of Gene’s other programs. The only time they stopped was to open the door to gather in the pizza. As they ate, the boys decided to go back to their game of Angry Birds they'd abandoned earlier. Suddenly, Cory straightened. “What time is it?”

  Gene looked at the small clock on the bottom right of his screen.

  “It’s 8:30,” Gene said, clicking out of the game.

  “Crap! My mom’s gonna kill me!” Cory ran to the bedroom door. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He opened it and dashed through, then popped his head back in. “Tell your mom the pizza was awesome!”

  Cory flew down the dark street on his bike. It was about two miles to Cory’s house, and getting home didn’t take very long. But being this late was not good. His mom was dead set against him riding the streets after dark. He turned onto Longview and then veered into his cul-de-sac. As he approached the driveway, Cory suddenly locked his brakes, skidding to a halt. He was still in the darkness of the cul de sac. Allen's corvette was parked next to his mom's car. Great, he thought. He walked his bike between the two cars and tentatively peered in through the laundry room window. His mother and Allen were sitting at the kitchen table. It looked like they were drinking coffee. Maybe they haven’t noticed the time, he thought hopefully, quietly stowing his bike in the garage. Cory glanced at the Corvette. It was a drop top, open to the night sky.

  “Fancy car,” he mumbled. A picture of his mom in the passenger seat, her long brown hair blowing in the wind, popped into his mind. He shook his head to clear the image and faced the door into the house. On the other side of that door was the laundry room, which led to the kitchen. He took a quick breath, and turned the doorknob.

  “Mister, where have you been?” Mrs. Towson almost shouted the question, her brown hair pulled back behind her head, unlike the corvette image a few seconds ago. “You know how I feel about you riding after dark!”

  The suddenness of her anger was like a blow to Cory’s senses, already heightened by being late. “Sorry mom, I …”

  “Sorry?!” she interrupted. “We’ve been sitting here for over an hour worried to death, wondering where you were, what might have happened to you!”

  Cory stood motionless at the kitchen sink, frozen by her intensity. Her anger didn't fit with the long pony tail and flower-covered sundress she had on. She never yelled at him. They always talked about mistakes and responsibilities. As he recoiled, Cory was painfully aware of Allen sitting quietly at the kitchen table, watching.

  “Frankly Cory, I’m surprised at you,” his mother continued. “Lately, you seem so preoccupied with yourself. And now this!” She took a quick breath, her green eyes staring hard at him. Cory suddenly felt panicked, caged. “What do you have to say for yourself? Well?”

  Cory’s mind went blank. Frozen. He wanted to explain that he had been over at Gene’s and forgot the time, but his mother’s sudden fury and Allen sitting there made him feel helpless.

  “Well, I know what,” Mrs. Towson broke the short silence. “You’re grounded this weekend.”

  “What?” Cory blurted, suddenly finding his voice. “But, Mom, you haven’t even listened to my…”

  “That’s final, young man!”

  There was a deathly quiet in the room. Cory felt a burning at the edges of his eyes. He stared at his mom, glanced at Allen. The panic was rising. Allen sat there, his elbows resting on the table top, revealing thick forearms. Cory, for the first time, noticed his strong featured face with the large nose, framed by wavy brown hair. His hazel eyes stared steadily at Cory. It was bad enough his mom yelling at him. But in front of Allen? A stranger? He looked back at his mother, the pressure building like too much air in a balloon.

  “Fine!” he blurted out. The burn increased in his eyes. He would not let Allen see the tears. “Don’t listen to me!”

  He walked quickly past his mother and Allen, then down the hallway to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. He threw himself down on his bed, pulled his pillow over the top of his head, and tried desperately to stop the inevitable. But it was impossible. Too much had been bottled up inside and now it was coming out. At least in his bedroom, nobody would hear the deep sobs of grief and anger that shook his body.

 

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