They danced in a circle, their hands in the air, chanting, “Girls rule!”
The boys ran back onto the pitch. Shay robbed Julie of the ball and the boys dribbled it toward the girls’ end, where Mr. Field and Mr. Grease stood in the goal, filling it. Toby got the ball and, with a shout of “Edison!” chipped it over them. Edison ran forward and returned it to Toby, who rushed at the goal, but tripped and fell in a muddy puddle. When he stood, Amy burst out laughing and pointed at the dripping wet seat of his pants. Steve was still standing with his arms folded and his back to the game, until the girls scored again, and Shay pleaded, “Help us, Steve.” He rushed onto the pitch and scored quickly. With the game tied, Mr. Grease picked up Linh-Mai and, while she held the ball between her feet, carried her above his head through the boys’ goal. Mr. Field awarded victory to the girls, who repeated their dance, while Toby chanted, “No fair!” He stood in front of the boys, waving his arms like a music director as they joined in: “No fair!”
Mr. Field said quietly, “That’s better.”
As Mr. Grease swung the van back on to the highway, the twins started singing a country song, Rollin’ up the highway, baby, comin’ home to you. The rest of the girls joined in. When they came to the words, “Just can’t wait …” Toby called, “Stop!” and sang the next two lines in a deep voice: “Just can’t wait to see my dreamboat man tonight. My hunky man is waiting and he’ll make me feel so-o-o right.” He performed them with his arms crossed on his chest and his hands on his shoulders, pretending someone was hugging him, at the same time wiggling his shoulders with the beat. The girls, spluttering with laughter, resumed the song. The next time they came to Toby’s lines, all the boys sang them with him. As he sang, Toby leaned toward Amy, rolling his eyes.
She screamed with laughter and said, “Stop or I’ll wet myself.”
Edison, his forehead resting on the window, couldn’t help comparing this new team with his old one. If the Eagles had just lost an important game and couldn’t afford to lose again, and had still to face High Park, the coach would have ranted at them, and analyzed everything they’d done wrong, warning them to make sure they played better — and won — next time. But all Mr. Field did was organize a crazy makeshift game of soccer on a muddy woods road in the middle of nowhere, and now the players were singing as if everything on the tour was going perfectly. He smiled at the contrast.
The third time the girls reached the boys’ lines, Linh-Mai poked him in the ribs and said, “Wake up, Edison. Sing it,” and he joined in.
He was surprised when the van passed a sign stating Shanklin Bay. He’d hardly noticed the scenery change from woods to suburbs. He peered around as they stopped in front of a row of cabins with an office in the middle. A flashing neon sign above it said, Bay Line Motel. No Vacancy.
“We have reservations,” said Mr. Field.
Edison watched Mr. Field walk through the open door of the office. He saw the receptionist, a thin man in a shiny blue suit, consult his computer and shake his head. When Mr. Field produced a sheet of paper, the receptionist shrugged.
Mr. Field returned to the van. “The receptionist claims he has no record of our reservations.”
“What are we going to do?” asked Shay.
Mr. Field grinned. “Follow me.”
Edison thought of the tours he’d made with elite teams, staying in comfortable downtown hotels where the players were waved through reception. He smiled to himself again. You never knew what was going to happen next with Brunswick Valley.
The team climbed from the van. Edison was last. At the door of the office, Steve stood with his back to Edison, barring his way.
Inside, the receptionist was surveying the students, a worried look on his face.
Mr. Field said, “We’ll wait in case you have a cancellation.” He turned to the team. “Find something to do while you wait.”
The twins started singing Rock Me, Baby, All Night Long. Julie and Shay joined in. Toby challenged Matthew to recite all the multiplication tables in less than two minutes. Matthew said he’d work backward and launched into the twelve-times table, speaking loudly so that Toby could hear above the singing. Brandon and Jason clapped a steady beat to accompany Matthew’s recitation.
The telephone rang and the receptionist answered. He said into the mouthpiece, “You’ll have to speak up.”
Amy told Linh-Mai, “I’ll show you a hand-clapping routine.” She held her hands in front of her and started, “Miss Mary Mack, Mack, Mack, All dressed in black, black, black …”
Edison said, “Excuse me,” and pushed past Steve.
The twins had reached the chorus, “All night long — yeah, yeah. Rock me all night long.” They danced as they sang, with Julie and Shay imitating their movements. Matthew was on the nine-times table, his voice getting louder and faster. Amy said, “Let’s start again. Miss Mary Mack, Mack, Mack, All dressed in black, black, black …”
Steve followed Edison inside, saying, “Watch who you’re shoving.”
Edison raised his voice above the commotion. “What is your problem?”
“You’re the problem. You — taking my place and screwing up.”
The receptionist said into the telephone, “Hold on.” He covered the mouthpiece and shouted, “Will you stupid kids be quiet!”
At the same time Mr. Grease appeared in the doorway. The receptionist watched him nervously as he crossed the little office and leaned on the counter.
“He’s with us,” said Mr. Field. “He looks after the kids. He makes sure they’re treated right, and stuff like that.”
The receptionist put down the phone. “Why don’t I find you alternative accommodation?” He worked at his computer for a few minutes, then said, “I’ve found rooms at the Shanklin Bay Carleton. It’s downtown on the waterfront.”
* * *
Edison felt at home in downtown Shanklin Bay. With the city’s big malls, tall office buildings, carefully tended parks, and wide streets filled with cars and buses and taxis, it was like being back in Canterbury.
He felt even more at home when they found the hotel. Mr. Grease stopped under an awning that extended from the roadside to the wide glass doors of the entrance. A uniformed attendant opened the van door and said, “Welcome to the Shanklin Bay Carleton.”
As they entered, Amy gasped, “This isn’t a hotel. It’s a palace.”
It was like the hotels Edison had stayed at when he was travelling with his parents and with elite teams. He took in the gleaming dark wood of the reception desk, the sparkling chandeliers, and the staircase that wound up to a balcony overlooking the foyer.
Toby, stopping to gawk just inside the entrance, his gaze finally settling on the deep pile carpets, said, “Someone keep hold of Linh-Mai, or we’ll lose her in the rug.”
Mr. Field called the team together. “We have one room for the girls and two for the boys. Have you thought about how you’re going to sleep?”
“What usually does the trick for me is putting my head on the pillow and closing my eyes,” said Toby.
Mr. Field rolled his eyes and continued, “I mean, who do you want to share with?”
“You’d better decide,” said Shay.
“Okay,” said Mr. Field. “Steve, Toby, and Edison share one room, and Shay, Matthew, Jason, and Brandon the other.”
Steve opened his mouth as if to protest.
Mr. Field looked at him. “Okay?”
Steve muttered, “I guess.”
Mr. Field went on, “We’ll meet here in a half hour and walk over to the Shanklin Bay Mall for a couple of hours.”
He led the way to the team’s rooms, which were side by side on the top floor. The room assigned to Edison, Steve, and Toby contained twin beds, a big television, a desk, two armchairs, and a low cot in a corner.
Toby eyed the cot warily
. “That thing doesn’t look too comfortable — or safe.”
Edison said, “I’ll take it.”
Toby peered into the bathroom and said, “We could play soccer in here.”
Steve was already stretched out on one of the twin beds, the TV remote in his hand. He found “Soccer Round-Up” and said, “This is the life.”
“You bet,” said Toby. “What do you think, Edison? Ever been in a place like this?”
Edison hesitated. “Well — yes.”
“’Course he has,” Steve scoffed. “You can’t expect superstar soccer players to stay in anything less than five-star hotels, where they have a bunch of people running around after them so they don’t have to do anything for themselves. It’s like playing soccer when you’re a superstar, and everyone on the team is supposed to set you up to score so you look good without actually doing anything.”
Edison ignored him, and Steve went on, “Trouble is — when you can’t score even then, you end up looking like a useless bonehead.” He paused and added, “Isn’t that right, Eddie?”
“Shut up,” said Edison.
“Who are you telling to shut up?” said Steve, throwing the remote aside and swinging his legs off the bed.
“Whoa, guys,” said Toby. “It’s time to meet the others.”
* * *
A sign at the entrance to the Shanklin Bay Mall boasted, Over one hundred stores! Biggest mall in the Maritimes!
Edison knew there were at least six malls in Canterbury that were bigger, but he didn’t say anything.
The mall was crowded and Mr. Field said, “We’ll stay together.”
Julie said, “But Linh-Mai and Amy and the twins and I want to go in girls’ shops.”
“That’s okay,” said Mr. Field. “We’ll come with you.”
Julie folded her arms. “You’re not coming in girls’ shops with us.”
Toby said, “I’d rather someone pulled my toenails out than go in girls’ shops.”
Mr. Field sighed. “All right, you can go off by yourselves. But stay in two groups — boys and girls — and meet here in two hours. Mr. Grease and I will be in the food court if you need us.”
The boys were on their way back to the meeting place when they stopped to look in the window of Allsports Megastore, where a pair of gold-coloured cleats formed the centrepiece of a display of soccer equipment. A sign beside the golden shoes said, As worn by Rudy Kohler of Real Madrid.
“I’d like a pair of shoes like that,” said Toby. “But I wouldn’t use them for soccer. I’d go dancing in them.”
“They look like superstar shoes,” said Steve.
Edison knew what was coming.
“I expect Eddie would like a pair like that,” Steve went on. He looked at Edison. “Eh, Eddie?”
Edison ignored him.
Steve said, “I’m talking to you,” and punched him on the shoulder.
Edison put his hand on Steve’s chest and pushed him away.
Steve asked, “Who are you pushing?” He stood squarely in front of Edison, his arms by his sides and his fists clenched.
Toby pushed between them. “Guys, knock it off! What’s up with you, Steve? Edison hasn’t done anything to you.”
Steve answered, “No?”
* * *
In the morning, when they went down to breakfast, they were met at the restaurant door by a babble of voices. A group of students was sitting at a long table in the corner. The adult with them, a young woman with short black hair and big hooped earrings, waved them over and said, “Why don’t you join us?”
Her students, smiling and beckoning, moved their chairs so that the two groups mingled around the table. Edison found himself near Mr. Field and the young woman, who was saying, “I’m Casey. Where are you from?”
Mr. Field said, “Brunswick Valley. We’re a soccer team.”
“So are we. We’re here for the provincial Special Olympics soccer tournament.” Casey waved a hand toward her group. “Meet the Dorchester All Stars.”
Mr. Field said, “We’re on tour, and we play our last game in Dorchester — against High Park Memorial Academy.”
Casey pulled a face. “You’d better be in top form. They take soccer very seriously. They’ll know all about you and your team before you even arrive. I know because I was at school in Dorchester and we used to play High Park. I was friends with a boy on the team, and he told me High Park sends someone to watch its opponents’ games and make notes on the players.”
As he followed the conversation, Edison was nodding without realizing it.
Mr. Field said, “Do you know about that sort of thing, Edison?”
He murmured, “Yes.”
He remembered a coach at an elite training camp showing him something called a player profile and warning, “Every team you play against has a dossier like this — on you.” He’d been allowed to read his own player profile. The strengths it listed — his speed, his ability to dribble past defenders, his powerful shooting — didn’t surprise him. But the paragraph that followed, outlining his weaknesses, had been a shock. For all his ability, Edison Flood lacks confidence. He is easily intimidated, and if put under pressure is likely to lose his nerve.
Edison had been about to take a mouthful of cereal. He paused, his spoon midway between the bowl and his mouth. He lowered his spoon.
Why hadn’t he remembered the profile? Now he knew why he was choking at crucial moments in his games.
He’d lost his nerve.
But why?
The profile said “easily intimidated.” Had he been intimidated into losing his confidence and his nerve? He couldn’t remember any particular act of intimidation that might have caused it, but he recalled lots of little incidents that referees had missed, times he’d been tripped, pushed in the back, held back by his shirt, elbowed off the ball. He wondered whether all these incidents had gradually drained away his confidence, because every one of them had made him appear weak.
But the profile said he was likely to lose his nerve “if put under pressure.”
Maybe it wasn’t intimidation that had caused him to lose his nerve, but pressure. He tried to remember how he’d felt at his moments of choking, when he’d failed to shoot in that last game for the Eagles, and when he’d had only Lily to beat, and when he’d had the open goal against Centreville. Was it pressure he’d felt then?
He turned his attention back to Casey, who was saying, “High Park is a very tough team. And what makes them even tougher to play is they get huge support for all their games. Do you have supporters with you?”
Mr. Field shook his head.
“The support their team gets can blow you right off the field.” She grinned. “Perhaps I’ll bring the Dorchester All Stars to cheer for you.”
A little girl with a round face and a snub nose, her hair standing up around her head in a wild frizzy halo, was sitting opposite Edison, staring at him.
He said, “What?”
“Who are you?”
“I’m Edison.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.” He leaned forward to read the sticker on her sweater. It said, Hello! I’m Ella. “Why are you Ella?”
She smiled and nodded. “Ella.”
She resumed staring at Edison, who asked, hoping to divert her intense gaze, “Do you like playing soccer?”
She grinned and nodded. “Play soccer!”
“I bet you win all your games.”
Ella frowned. “Don’t get you.”
Edison said, faltering, “You know, win — when you score more goals than the other team.”
Ella shook her head, still frowning.
Casey, who’d been listening, said, “We like playing soccer — right, Ella?”
“Play soccer!”
“And scoring goals …”
“Score goals — yeah!”
Casey added to Edison, “But we don’t talk about winning or losing. We just talk about playing, and enjoying the game.”
“No pressure, eh?” said Mr. Field, catching Edison’s eye.
After breakfast, the two teams met on the boardwalk behind the hotel. Ella sought out Edison, seizing his hand and clinging to it, as the two groups wandered along the waterfront trail, looking at fishing boats setting out from the wharf and the ferry easing into the terminal. They counted seals in the harbour, looking for the sleek shiny heads bobbing up above the water.
At the end of the trail, Casey and the Dorchester All Stars caught a bus back to the hotel to prepare for their tournament, while Mr. Grease met the Brunswick Valley team to take them on to the Shanklin Bay Museum.
Two hours later, as they drove out of the city, they passed the recreation grounds where the Dorchester All Stars were playing, and Mr. Field said, “We have time to watch for ten minutes.”
Four games were in progress, and the field was a riot of colour and sound as the Special Olympics teams, in their bright uniforms, darted and wheeled after the ball, whooping and laughing all the time. Edison and his friends found the Dorchester All Stars and joined Casey on the sideline. Edison quickly picked out Ella, her face wearing a constant smile and her eyes shining with excitement. She saw Edison and flew across the field to hug him. She gasped, “Love soccer,” and rushed back to the game. When her side scored, her teammates danced and cheered, and when the other side scored a few minutes later, they danced and cheered just as enthusiastically.
Mr. Field, glancing at his watch, said, “We have to get on to North Bay.” As the Brunswick Valley team headed back to the van, with a final wave to the All Stars, Casey called, “Enjoy your game!” and her team stopped playing in order to wave and repeat, “Enjoy your game!”
Falling Star Page 4
