by Mike Lupica
She didn’t even try to make it sound like a request, just like a play she had called.
“You are aware,” Teddy said, “that I live right here and you live in the other direction, right?”
“Don’t look at it as you going out of your way,” she said. “Look at it as an opportunity to spend quality time with me alone.”
Teddy slapped his forehead. “Why didn’t I see that right away?”
“You’re a guy?” she said.
“I knew it must be something like that,” Teddy said. “Again.”
Jack and Gus were spending some time after school at the assisted-living facility, as part of the community service hours for eighth graders. You had to have a certain amount of community service hours when you got to eighth grade, and Jack and Gus were getting the jump on that today. Then they were all meeting later for pizza and a movie.
Teddy would never admit it to Cassie, but he was actually looking forward to getting quality time alone with her. It was something he hardly ever got to do.
When he met back up with her in front of school, he noticed she had put on her FC Barcelona cap. She was the best girl soccer player her age in town, the way she was the best softball pitcher. And Lionel Messi was her favorite player. Cassie talked about Messi the way Teddy talked about Odell Beckham Jr.
“I’ve been thinking about something,” Teddy said to her now. “Do you think you might already be taller than Messi?”
“Making fun of my guy,” she said, “is not the way to go.”
“Am I allowed to ask where we’re going?”
“I thought we’d go sit up above the water at Small Falls,” she said.
“And do what?”
“Talk about how you have to stop acting like an idiot about your father,” she said.
“And what if I don’t want to talk about my dad?” he said.
It made Cassie laugh. “Oh,” she said, “you were being serious.”
He shook his head. One of the great things about Cassie Bennett, one of the many great things, was that she could somehow be funny and cool and obnoxious all at the same time. And it was your job to keep up with her.
“Can’t we just start talking about him now and get it out of the way?” Teddy said.
“No,” she said.
They spent the rest of the walk talking about her soccer team and his football team and about the first week of school, and talking again about how they had to find a way to save Mrs. Brandon’s job and the music department. The thought of the town closing down the department had upset Cassie the way it had Teddy’s mom. Cassie didn’t love music as much as she loved sports. But not only had she become a terrific piano player, despite all the complaining she did about having to go to piano lessons, she loved Mrs. Brandon.
“If they close the department, this will be her last year with us.”
“And you’re not going to let that happen,” Teddy said.
“Not if I can help it.”
“You know my mom feels the same way,” Teddy said. “She’s been trying to come up with a plan.”
“Maybe we can all come up with a plan together,” Cassie said. “We’ve got to find a way to raise enough money to save the department and save her job.”
“Saving Mrs. B!” Teddy said.
“You better not think this is funny.”
“I think it’s great,” Teddy said. “And whenever you do come up with something, I’m in.”
“Let’s be honest,” Cassie said, grinning. “It’s not like you really had a choice.”
They finally got to Journey’s End Road and made their way toward the water. When they got close, Cassie took off ahead of him, yelling, “Catch me if you can!”
Teddy ran hard after her, knowing there was no chance of ever really catching this girl, now or ever.
• • •
They sat halfway up the hill on this side of the water. The only noise up here, Teddy thought, was the water. It was like they had found their own private corner of the world.
“You have to stop acting like this,” Cassie said. “Jack and Gus won’t tell you that. Not saying stuff out loud is part of the boy code. But I will.”
“Stop acting like what?” Teddy said. “Like I haven’t figured out something I haven’t figured out?”
“No, it’s not that,” she said. “You have to stop acting like your dad coming back is some kind of great tragedy. It’s not. Jack’s brother dying the way he did, that’s a tragedy. Not this.”
“You think I don’t know the difference?” Teddy said.
“If you do, you’re not acting like it,” she said. “You haven’t been acting anything like yourself lately.”
“And how do I act like myself?” he said. “Do I have to get a Teddy app?”
“By being funny. The guy I wanted to be friends with was funny.”
“You want me to tell more jokes?”
“This is no joke.”
“I was trying to be funny Teddy.”
“Well, it’s not working,” she said.
She stood up, picked up a rock, and tried to throw it as far as she could across the water. She nodded like she was satisfied with the throw, and sat back down. “You know what you’re starting to do? You’re starting to act as dumb as Jack did when he quit baseball to punish himself for his brother dying.”
“Wait a minute!” Teddy said. “You were the one who told him not to play if he didn’t want to play.”
“Until I found out why he wasn’t playing.”
“You’re right,” Teddy said, because she was.
“I was right about him, and I’m right about you. You’re still mad at him leaving, but you can’t see that the worst part for you, the time you missed with him, is already over.”
“And you figured this out all by yourself? Maybe when you become a TV star, it should be doing one of those shows like Dr. Phil.”
It got a smile out of her. “My mom might have helped me with some of it,” Cassie said. “My grandma and grandpa divorced when she was six. And guess what? She survived!”
“Did I ever say I’m not going to survive? You’re acting as if I’m not just walking around underneath a dark cloud, I am the dark cloud.”
“Whatever,” she said. “You want to know my biggest problem with this whole thing? You’ve already made up your mind that you don’t like the guy, forget about ever loving him.”
“Not gonna happen.”
“But you don’t have any idea what he’s like! You’re the one who says the two of you have never talked. How about talking to him before you decide he’s a jerk?”
“Not a jerk. An idiot.”
“You know this . . . how?”
Teddy looked at her. “Because only an idiot would leave my mom.”
He was the one who got up now, walked around until he found a good throwing stone, and cut loose.
“Good arm,” she said.
“Thanks.”
“You might have the best arm in our grade after Jack,” she said, before adding, “Out of the guys.”
“I’d rather catch.”
“Even when you’re catching heat from me?”
“I could’ve said no when you told me what you wanted to talk about,” he said. “But I have found out, the hard way, that it’s best for me to keep an open mind with you.”
“So keep one with your dad!” she yelled.
He sat back down and looked down at the water. It was weird, he thought. It was like different water now that he wasn’t afraid of it anymore.
“You’re like that woman Mrs. Henson was quoting to us in English the other day,” he said. “Often wrong, never uncertain.”
“Well,” she said, “the second part is right.”
In her mind, she hardly ever was wrong. But he still liked being with her. He knew she was trying to be a good friend today. She was just doing it in her own way: by being a know-it-all. But the way she did it, with a smile, made it hard for Teddy to ever get really mad at her.
“You just like him because he told you how smart you were the other night, and that you were going to be on ESPN someday. I think I might have even seen some blushing after he did.”
“Don’t make me mad.”
“You know what makes me really mad about him?” Teddy said. “That he acts like all he has to do is show up now and he gets all his dad privileges back. Like practically taking over the end of practice.”
“Maybe it’s just his way of trying.”
“Or maybe he just thinks he’s so cool he can win everybody over, including me.”
“Maybe,” Cassie said. “But you don’t know that yet.”
“I still think he’s an idiot for leaving my mom and hurting her.”
“Is that what this is about? Or that he left you? And hurt you?”
“And now I’m just supposed to let it all go, is that what you’re saying?”
“Yup,” she said. “Let . . . it . . . go.”
“Are you ready to go?”
She jumped to her feet. “I am!”
“Before we go, can I ask you one serious question?” he said, trying to make his face serious.
“Sure,” she said.
“If you do get on television, which Simpsons character do you think you’ll be?”
This time she chased him.
NINE
It was the morning of the first game of the season, and the first official game of Teddy’s life, against the Hollis Hills Bears, eleven o’clock, Holzman Field.
Teddy had to stop himself from putting on his uniform before he went down to breakfast.
He had laid out everything neatly before he went to bed, everything except his number 13 jersey, which was hanging in his closet. His mother had washed his pants after practice on Thursday night, and they were draped over the reading chair next to his desk. His socks were on the chair too, and the gray “Wildcats” T-shirt he would wear under his jersey. His shoulder pads were on his desk.
Everything still looked brand-new. He hoped that none of the guys noticed he had even polished his black spikes.
His helmet was on the nightstand.
Teddy had been awake since six thirty but waited until eight to go downstairs, messing around on his laptop until then, trying to calm himself down, knowing how long it was until kickoff. There was always a lot of nervous excitement before big baseball games, especially once they’d made it to Williamsport and ESPN began televising them.
He knew those games, played in front of the whole country, should have made him more nervous. They hadn’t. He liked baseball. But he had always wanted to be a football player, and today he finally was.
When he got to the kitchen, his mom was at the table, glasses at the end of her nose, reading the morning paper. She looked at him over the glasses and smiled.
“Any big plans today?” she said.
“I thought I’d start by cleaning out the garage,” he said. “Then move on to those boxes of my stuff in the basement you’ve been wanting me to sort through, before I do all my homework for the weekend.”
“What about mowing the lawn?”
“Well,” he said, “I thought I should save something for after lunch.”
She asked him what he wanted to eat. He said just cereal; his stomach felt too jumpy to try anything heavier.
“I actually read that cereal and some yogurt is good for a football player before an early game,” his mom said.
“You heard, Mom? Where?”
“I might have read something on the Internet.”
“You always have been so curious about the dietary habits of football players.”
She got out the milk and cereal, some yogurt, and a banana to go with the cereal. As she laid everything out she said, “So how are we looking?”
“I wasn’t this scared on my first day of school,” he said. “But Jack’s always telling me this is a good kind of scared.”
“You’re going to do great.”
“I would settle for not stinking up the place,” he said. “Or not dropping a pass that would’ve won the game, or not fumbling. Or committing a dumb penalty.”
She grinned. “Well, it’s always good to think positively.”
“Did I mention that I’m hoping not to run out on the field without my helmet?”
“You know, I heard some players call helmets ‘hats,’ ” she said.
“Another thing you heard!” Teddy said. “Where this time, the gym?”
“You can find out a lot of interesting things about football on the Internet,” she said. “I’m just putting that out there.”
He ate in silence for a couple of minutes. She went back to reading the paper. When he finished eating, she said, “I haven’t even asked—how are you planning to get to the game?”
“Jack said he could pick me up, if I wanted.”
“Nope,” she said. “I’ll take you.”
There was another silence at the table, before Teddy said, “Is he planning to come?”
They both knew who he was talking about.
“He said he was,” Teddy’s mom said.
“Figured,” Teddy said. “You two going to sit together?”
“It doesn’t matter whether we do or not,” she said. “This isn’t his day. It’s not my day. It’s yours. Just remember that.”
Then she pointed at him, her face serious, and said, “And to wear your helmet.”
She said she’d clean up. He went back upstairs, killed more time on his computer, texted Jack and Gus and Cassie. Finally it was a quarter to ten, and time for him and his mom to leave for the field. He put on his uniform and walked down the stairs, helmet in hand.
On his way through the front hall, he caught a glimpse of himself in the full-length mirror. Not knowing his mom was watching, he turned and took a better look.
“Looks like a football player to me,” she said.
“Remember that time I dressed up like a player for Halloween?” Teddy said. “I almost just said ‘trick or treat.’ ”
“Not today, number thirteen,” she said. “Definitely not today.”
TEN
Everything was in fast-forward from the time he got to the field.
He stretched with the rest of the Wildcats. He warmed up with Jack, along with the rest of the receivers. When he looked over to the stands, even they seemed to be filling up quickly, as if everybody at Holzman Field couldn’t wait for the season to officially start.
Teddy noticed that his mom and dad were standing next to each other, right in front of Mr. and Mrs. Callahan and Gus’s parents.
I’ve finally got a dad in the stands, Teddy thought. I just don’t know how I really feel about that.
Cassie was down near the field with some of her soccer teammates, standing in the narrow area between the fence behind the Wildcats’ bench and the first row of the bleachers.
She waved Teddy and Jack and Gus over to her, maybe ten minutes before the kickoff.
“Well,” she said to them, “this is what we’ve been waiting for.”
“We?” Teddy said. He looked at Jack and Gus, who both shrugged.
“Behind every good man is a good woman,” Cassie said. “Haven’t you ever heard that one?”
“What if it’s three men?” Gus said.
“Well, that would probably require a great woman, wouldn’t it?”
Teddy looked past her, up into the stands. “If you spot a great woman at the game, let us know.”
“I’d definitely like to meet somebody like that,” Jack said.
“Okay, enough chitchat,” she said. “Go make yourselves useful and win the game.”
She knuckle-bumped them, one after another. Teddy was last. Before he turned to leave, he couldn’t help himself, as nervous as he was. He tipped back his helmet and smiled at her.
“You’re ready,” she said.
“You know what?” Teddy said. “I am.”
• • •
For as long as Teddy had been a football
fan, he’d heard announcers on NFL games talk about how much the game sped up when you went from college to the pros. Well, maybe the same thing happened when you went from never having played a real game of football to here.
The Wildcats won the coin toss and decided to take the ball. And once they were into their offense, Teddy was glad that Coach wanted them to start with all running plays, because that meant all he had to do to start was some basic blocking. Even with that, he felt like his heart was in a race with his brain as he tried to remember exactly where he was supposed to be.
On the Wildcats’ fourth play from scrimmage, he forgot the snap count by the time he lined up next to Billy Curley, their huge offensive right tackle. But even though he had to wait a beat for Billy to come off the blocks, Teddy managed to put a solid block on the Bears’ outside linebacker, cleaned him out so that Jake Mozdean could gain five extra yards.
Only when Jake ripped off another ten-yard run and the Wildcats were at the Bears’ thirty-five yard line did Teddy feel as if he finally had a chance to catch his breath.
Just as Jack called for their first pass of the game.
To Teddy.
“Strong side curl,” Jack said in the huddle. It meant Teddy and Gus would line up on the right side, Gus behind him in the slot. But once Gus broke from his spot, Teddy was supposed to wait and run behind him for about ten yards, then stop and turn, hopefully in a nice, empty soft spot in the Bears’ defensive back field.
“Be ready,” Jack said to Teddy as they came out of the huddle. “The ball might be headed your way before you turn.”
“You throw, I’ll catch,” Teddy said.
Teddy told himself not to rush: the play was designed for him to look like a decoy, or at least a secondary receiver, until Gus made a hard cut to the outside. As soon as he did, Teddy took one more step and turned around.
Jack Callahan had not been lying. The pass—a bullet—was already on top of him, Jack having seen the safety closing from Teddy’s right.
Teddy saw the kid coming but told himself to focus on the ball, even knowing he was going to get popped as soon as he caught it. He looked the ball all the way into his belly as it caught him right above his belt buckle, knocking the air out of him before the safety knocked him down.
