He went back into the living room and dialed his father’s office number.
“Dad? It’s me, Mark,” he said. “Listen, are you still planning to come over here to watch that special on World Cup soccer? … You are? Okay, please don’t get stuck with something else this time. I really want to watch it with you. And — and there’s something else, too. … No, I’m fine. I just want to talk to you, okay? … Okay, yeah, bye.”
He hung up the phone and got out a five-thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle. This ought to take some doing, he thought. He was looking at the puzzle box, but he was thinking about something else entirely.
Saturday morning was unusually warm. But despite the pleasant weather outside, Mark was anything but cheerful. In fact he was a bundle of nerves.
“Now, what are you up to today?” his grandfather asked, picking up the newspaper.
“Uh, well, Dad’s coming over to watch that World Cup special later on,” said Mark.
Grandma Conway raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t your mother coming over this afternoon, too?”
“Uh-huh,” said Mark.
“Feel like telling us what’s going on?”
Mark shook his head. “But I have a feeling you’ll know everything before the afternoon is through.”
He left the kitchen without waiting to see their reactions to his announcement.
To kill some time before his parents showed up, Mark decided to clean up his room. He folded all his clothes and shoved the things that went into drawers into drawers. He found hangers and hung up the clothes that were supposed to be hung up.
He cleaned off the top of his chest of drawers and wiped the glass on the pictures of his mother and father that stood on either side of his mirror.
When his parents had first separated, he hadn’t wanted to have their pictures out. Looking at them only made him feel bad. But after his talk with his grandparents, he had realized that the pictures weren’t what had been causing those hurt feelings. So he had taken them out again and each night made a point of looking both pictures right in the eyes.
He had just finished relacing his soccer shoes when he heard the doorbell ring.
This is it, he thought, giving the pictures one last glance.
“Mark, your mother is here,” Grandma Conway called from below.
“I’ll be down in a minute,” he called back. Stall, he said to himself. Hang in there. Hope that Grandma Conway will push her into having a cup of tea or something.
He could hear the big old clock in the hallway outside his door ticking away. It sounded like a bomb that was going to explode any minute.
“Mark,” his mother’s voice rang out. “Are you all right? What’s taking so long?”
Before he could come up with an excuse, the telephone rang.
It was picked up in one ring. His grandfather knocked on the door to Mark’s bedroom.
“Mark, it’s your dad,” he said quietly.
He’s not coming, flashed through Mark’s mind as he took the cordless phone from his grandfather.
“Hello? … Hi, Dad,” he said, his voice automatically dropping. “What? You’re on your car phone? … Yes, that’s Mom’s car. Right, she’s here. … No, I don’t know when she’s leaving. That all depends. But what difference does it make? Aren’t you coming to be with me?”
There was a long pause while he waited to hear what his father had to say. Finally he breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay, I’ll be here.”
He left his bedroom and dashed downstairs. Without a word to anyone, he swung open the door and let his father in before the doorbell even rang.
“Come on in, Dad,” he said. “Mom, please don’t go. I really need to talk to both of you — together.”
Grandma and Grandpa Conway quietly retreated into the kitchen and closed the door.
Mark took his father’s hand and led him into the living room, where his mother was sitting.
Even with the sun shining through the windows, it felt like the North Pole in there to Mark.
Both of his parents started to speak at the same time.
“Mark, if you’re not happy here —”
“Darling, you can come and live with me if you —”
“Stop!” he shouted. “You haven’t even listened to me yet. It’s not about being here with Grandma and Grandpa Conway. They’re terrific, and I love them. They’re not the problem.”
“Well, then I don’t see why we had to be here together to talk about something,” said his mother stiffly. “You didn’t have to plan this little ‘surprise.’ ”
“Right, if there’s something else, you could have let me know about it,” said his father.
“Or me,” his mother shot back with an angry look at Mr. Conway.
“No, I couldn’t!” Mark blurted out. Both his parents turned to stare at him.
“That’s just it. Ever since you guys” — Mark’s voice broke slightly, but he cleared his throat and continued in a firm voice — “split up, I haven’t been able to talk to you about anything. Nothing important, anyway, just about clothes, and school, and how I’m doing on the soccer team. But I’ve never told either of you my thoughts about what you’re doing. About how it makes me feel. I mean, since we’re never all together, it always seemed like I’d be talking behind someone’s back if I told just one or the other of you. So I just kept it inside. But it’s eating me up, so I can’t do that anymore,” he finished.
His mother spoke first after a long silence. “Darling,” she said, “we’re not trying to do anything to hurt you. It’s just that we can’t agree on who you should live with.”
“If there was a way to settle the matter without lawyers, we would, Mark,” his father added. “But there just isn’t.”
“So I’m just supposed to pretend it’s okay that I feel like a soccer ball you two are fighting over?” He could see his angry words were finally sinking in.
“Mark, you never told us you felt like that,” his father said, his voice catching.
“Well, now you know. And I know you’re doing what’s best for you two. But please, stop using me in your game.”
He ran out of the room and upstairs to his bedroom.
The house remained quiet for several hours after Mr. and Mrs. Conway left.
Finally, when the sky had begun to darken and the clock’s chimes had rung four times, Mark slowly opened his door. He went downstairs into the living room. Grandpa Conway was lighting a fire in the fire-place. Then Grandma Conway came in with a tray of freshly baked lemon squares and a pot of hot chocolate.
“Cocoa?” his grandmother asked, holding up a cup.
Mark took it from her and sat on the arm of her easy chair.
“Thanks, Grandma,” he said. She patted his knee and handed him a plate with a lemon square on it.
“You know, I saw in the paper that the Knightstown Cineplex has some good movies,” said Grandpa Conway. “There’s no school tomorrow, so we could take in one of the early shows. Anyone interested?”
“Fine with me,” said Grandma Conway.
They both looked at Mark. He took a long drink of cocoa, bit into a lemon square, and surprised them all, himself included, by saying, “Sure. Why not?”
“Mark,” his grandmother admonished without missing a beat, “don’t talk with your mouth full.”
For some reason, that simple statement made them all laugh.
And for the first time in a long time, Mark didn’t feel like he had a heavy weight stuck in his chest. He felt like he could do anything — go to a movie, or play soccer, or even talk with his mouth full — now that he had said what was on his mind.
13
When Mark planted his feet on the soccer field the following week, he felt like a new person. Not all of his problems had gone away — whose ever would? — but he knew he could play now the way he should.
It showed in the very next game the Scorpions played, with the Chelsea Chargers. As usual, the front line started out with Mark, Evan, and Vince. But
about ten minutes into the game, Evan got banged up and had to leave. The coach sent in Craig, who had been warming the bench until then.
Craig wasn’t a natural forward. He didn’t have the speed. So the burden of moving in toward the goal fell pretty much to Mark and Vince.
As soon as the Scorpions had the ball, Vince called for a play they’d practiced all week — except, during practice, Mark had had possession and called the play. Earlier in the season, Mark would have seen this as a ploy by Vince to keep the ball away from him. But now he knew he could count on his teammate to include him. This play depended on each player doing his part in perfect harmony.
“Heads up, Craig!” he shouted as he received the pass from Vince. Vince rushed behind Mark, who turned around and tipped the ball right back to him. Mark then became a blocker as Vince scooted around and headed toward the goal with the ball.
But that wasn’t the whole play. Vince had his choice: He could kick for a goal, or pass to either Craig or Mel Duffy. Mark could see that Mel was in the clear. Sure enough, a second later Vince had passed Mel the ball. Mel aimed, swung his leg, and kicked for all he was worth.
The ball sailed into the net for the first goal of the game!
Mark wasn’t surprised that Vince didn’t come over to slap high fives with him. After all, he thought, I can’t expect the guy to change overnight.
The Scorpions took the game against the Chargers, 6-4. Mark and Vince each scored two goals. Mark knew he and Vince were neck-and-neck for the most goals scored that season. But as far as Mark was concerned, such statistics were unimportant as long as they both did their jobs well.
In the following game, against the Edgewood Eagles, the Scorpions scored five goals before their opponents got on the scoreboard. Final tally: Scorpions 7, Eagles 2. Mark and Vince both sat on the bench, rooting for the substitutes, who played most of the game. But Vince managed to score two more goals to Mark’s one nonetheless.
Despite Mark’s feelings about in-team competition, he didn’t mind the rivalry he and Vince had going. After all, it didn’t harm the rest of the squad when their two top scorers were trying to up their records. As long as it didn’t spill over to off-field, everything seemed fine.
The Scorpions’ record was 8 and 2 when the final game of the season, with the Newtown Panthers, rolled around in mid-November. The Knightstown Scorpions were on top of the league by two games, with the next closest team’s record reading 6 and 4. But Coach Ryan didn’t want them to let up just because of that.
“Champions aren’t the best only because they’ve won the most games,” he told the Scorpion players just before the game began. “It’s because they always play and think like champions. So go out there on the field and show them why Knightstown has earned its spot as number one.”
Throughout the season, Coach Ryan had made sure all his players had time on the field. But for this last game, he started with his tried-and-true lineup: Evan, Mark, and Vince on the front line; Jim, Mel, and Johnny at midfield; and Craig, Eddie, Harvey, and Stu in the backfield, with Charlie in the goal.
During the warm-up, Mark glanced at the stands. Sure enough, his grandparents were in their usual place right behind the bench. His parents, however, were nowhere in sight.
Since the day he’d had his say with the two of them in the living room, he was aware of a slight change in the way his parents talked about each other when they were with him. They no longer made angry comments about each other in front of Mark. But Mark knew that sometime soon he was going to become the focus of the divorce again. And what would happen then, he couldn’t begin to imagine. Or want to.
For now, he just wanted to concentrate on the game at hand. The Scorpions won the toss. Vince announced that they would start with the ball.
The whistle blew, and the game began. As always, Mark felt a rush of adrenaline as he toed the ball over to Vince, who started to dribble it down along the sideline.
“Come on, you Scorpions!” he shouted, racing to keep pace with Vince. “Let’s show ’em how to play this game!”
Within a few moments, it was clear that the Scorpions were the better team. But the Panthers weren’t going to simply roll over. They had an impressive record of their own. There was nothing they wanted to do more than end the season by beating the champs.
The Scorpions maintained good ball control and drove in strong to the goal. Passes skittered across the field from Evan to Mark, Mark to Vince, and then back again. But as they approached the goal, the Panthers bared their claws and soon had the ball heading in the opposite direction.
Then Eddie slid beneath a Panther wing and dislodged the ball, booting it out of bounds. The slide scratched him up pretty bad, but he waved away the coach when he asked if he needed to come out. Like everyone else, Eddie was fired up to play the best game he could. Mark knew he wasn’t about to let a little scratch send him to the sidelines so soon.
Eddie had his work cut out for him. Mark could see he was having a hard time covering his zone. The Panthers bumped and battered him as he tried to break up their ball control. There was no doubt they were pressing hard to draw “first blood.” Twice Eddie got knocked over the sideline as he tried to get a foot around the ball. The third time, though, Mark was right nearby. He bore down on the Panther wing so hard, the surprised player tripped over himself. Eddie ducked in and scooted free with the ball.
His kick downfield was blocked. A Panther interception put the ball back into their control. Then a good block by Harvey Kahn shook the ball loose near Craig. The carrot-topped Scorpion scooped it in, dribbled, then sent it over to Mark.
“Come to Papa!” Mark shouted as he dribbled the ball over the midfield stripe. Looking around, he saw that Vince was up ahead of him, open for a pass. Mark booted it to him. The pass took a wild bounce and rebounded off a Panther’s hands. The ref blew his whistle to signal for a direct kick.
Vince was closest and waited for the ref to place the ball. Then he took two large steps and swung his foot hard at the sphere, sending it diagonally across the field. Evan Andrews was already running to get underneath it. With a decisive leap, he headed the ball back toward the center of the field.
Mark wasted no time. He rushed forward, caught the spinning ball against his chest, and let it drop to the ground. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Vince streaking down the sideline. Mark knew Vince’s next move was going to be to cut across the field. He’d be looking for a clean pass.
Now was the Scorpions’ chance. It was up to Mark to make it work.
He did. A swift movement sent the ball rocketing to Vince. Vince controlled the ball, turned, and threaded the needle by hooking a kick just beyond the outstretched arms of the Panther goalie.
Score! Scorpions 1, Panthers 0.
Mark could see Coach Ryan smiling as he pounded his right fist into his left palm. He knew the coach loved to see a goal result from teamwork, not just from a fluke.
The next time the Scorpions had possession of the ball, Mark hoped he’d get a shot at scoring. He could tell his teammates were looking to set him up.
He didn’t disappoint them. He trapped the ball, dribbled, passed, and positioned himself exactly the way they had practiced all week. So he was in just the right spot to go for it when his moment came.
He didn’t have to wait long. A pass from Mel a few feet from the corner of the penalty area was all it took. The Panther goalie never had a chance.
Goal!
Less than halfway through the first half, and already the Scorpions had a solid lead.
The sweet thought of a shutout drifted through Mark’s mind, but he quickly blocked it out. That was dangerous, he knew. The idea was to win the game, not to think about a particular score.
Unfortunately the rest of the team didn’t see it that way. The lead went to their heads, and play got sloppy. A lot of kicking, tripping, and pushing fouls led to one penalty after another. The Panthers didn’t hesitate to use these lucky breaks. When the whistle blew to end th
e first half, the score was tied: Scorpions 2, Panthers 2.
Coach Ryan had a good long talk with his team during the break.
“What is going on out there?” he asked incredulously. “You’d think it was the first game of the season instead of the last! You have one final chance to show why you’re the champs. Now, go out there and show those guys who’s boss! Let’s see some clean, smart, heads-up ball!”
With a roar, the Scorpions took to the field. But Mark sensed that the Panthers could smell an upset.
Well, they’re going to have to earn it. We’re not about to give it to them on a silver platter, he thought with determination.
The second half of the game turned into a defensive duel. Back and forth, up and down the field, the ball traveled as the referee’s time clock ground away the remaining minutes left to play.
Neither team managed to put the ball into the net for a score. Each of them came close, but their defense came through every time.
Any rivalry that had existed between Mark and Vince vanished as they tried to make one play after another work. But to no avail. The Panthers just seemed to be everywhere, blocking every kick, intercepting every pass.
Then, after a long siege defending the Scorpion goal, Charlie Burns managed to clear the ball out to Vince. Vince broke loose from the Panther defending him and dribbled the ball across the mid-field line. When he started to get into trouble, he booted the ball to Jim, who sent it immediately over to Mark.
Mark knew the game was going to end at any moment. He had only one chance to break the tie. But his line to the goal was blocked by a jungle of Panthers.
Suddenly he remembered a play that the team hadn’t used in weeks. It was a simple enough play, involving only two players. But those two players had to be able to read each other’s minds in order to make it work. One misstep, and that would be that. Still, Mark figured it was their best shot against this difficult defense.
“Scorpion Red!” he called out. He prayed Vince had heard him. And would do what he had to do without a second thought.
He had. He did. When Mark passed him the ball, Vince trapped it, then kicked it high over the Panthers’ heads in a graceful arc. While the Panthers were watching it, Mark darted in between them. He didn’t need to keep an eye on it to know where it was going to fall. He just had to be there when it did.
The Comeback Challenge Page 7
