“Sorry to interrupt,” Tyler said, flashing a smile. “But I have a little announcement to make. Me and George Peterson here are going to have a special exhibition match, right here, right now. Feel free to gather around and watch! Tell your friends! Spread the word! I guarantee it’ll be quite a show.” He turned back to George, his smile more sharklike than ever. “Whaddya say, Peterson? We can pull out a mat over there,” he jerked his thumb towards the other end of the gym, “and we’ll do it.”
“Sounds good to me.” George didn’t flinch or drop his gaze.
Tyler chuckled again. “Man, I’m going to love this, Peterson,” he said. “Thank you so much. Let’s go.”
They both made their way to the other end of the gym and pulled out a practice mat from under the bleachers. “I got my gear in the locker room,” Tyler said. “Be right back, Peterson.” He strode away.
George suddenly became aware that there were more and more people coming into the gym; apparently the word was spreading quickly.
“George!” Celia said, running up to him. “What are you doing? Are you crazy? You can’t start a fight here!”
“He’s not starting a fight,” Brian said. “They’re just going to have a match. It’s okay.”
“Oh yeah?” Celia said angrily. “I don’t see how it’s okay…”
“He’s defending the honor of Catholic priests,” Brian said solemnly.
“Celia,” George said. “I have to do this.”
Celia opened her mouth to reply, but he cut her off. “Look, remember how you said that we had to find Allie, but you didn’t know why? Well, I just have to do this, okay?”
Celia looked bewildered for a second…and then, throwing up her hands, she backed away.
Thank God, George thought. With his heart still pounding, he began to unbutton the cassock. Luckily he was wearing clothes that would work for wrestling underneath: shorts, a T-shirt, and sneakers. There were a couple hoots and whistles from the rapidly growing crowd as he pulled the cassock over his head and handed it to Celia. “Make sure this thing stays safe and doesn’t get dirty or anything.”
“Hey, George!”
George looked up at a kid in a werewolf costume. It was Mahoney, the freckle-faced rookie, and he looked both excited and kind of nervous. “You’re gonna wrestle Tyler, right?”
“Yeah,” George said.
“Cool,” Mahoney said. “Kick his butt for me, okay?”
“Uh…sure,” George said. “Will do.”
There was one more thing to do. Disregarding any thoughts of how he might look to anyone, he went down on one knee, bowed his head, and closed his eyes.
“Lord…” he muttered, and then realized that he didn’t know what to say; he wasn’t even sure if God would approve of what he was doing. “Lord,” he began again. “Please let me do well. I guess I’m sticking my neck out again, but this time I’m not going to complain. I was dressed up like a priest tonight…and I guess that means that I have to do well to make priests look good. Please defend me as I go into battle. Uh…may your will be done. Amen.”
“Are you done?”
He looked up, and there was Tyler, glowering at him, dressed in his Sparrow Hills singlet, wrestling shoes and headpiece.
As George got up, Tyler tossed him another headpiece.
“Thanks,” George said, taken aback.
“I don’t want to accidentally rip your ears off,” Tyler said casually. “It’ll look bad on my record.”
“That’s really big of you,” George shot back, and strapped the headpiece on. “So, are we gonna get somebody to ref this?”
“Why?” Tyler sneered. “You want someone to rescue you when things get rough?”
“No,” George said. “I just want it to be fully documented when I kick your butt. Anybody want to ref?” he called to the crowd. “Anybody?”
For a long moment, there was no reply. He saw several Sparrow Hills wrestlers in the crowd, but from the looks on their faces they seemed to be on Tyler’s side. Flynt and Brock were standing together with arms folded and smirks on their faces. Next to them was Allie, shifting back and forth with an anxious look on her face. I wonder if she’s worried about Tyler, or me… Better not to think about it right now.
“Come on,” he said. “We need a ref!”
Finally somebody stepped forward: Henderson, one of the veterans, a big guy who filled the 212-pound class on the Sparrow Hills squad. “I’ll ref for you guys,” he said in his deep, husky voice.
“Okay,” George said, breathing a sigh of relief. He didn’t know Henderson very well; he was a quiet guy. But he had never joined in either the hazings or the teasing of Brian. That’s as good as I’m gonna get, he thought. I just hope he’s fair.
“You guys want to do this the usual way?” Henderson asked. “Three periods? Two minutes each?”
“Sure,” George said.
“I don’t think it’ll take that long,” Tyler sneered.
Henderson checked his watch. “Okay,” he rumbled. “Take your positions.”
As he and Tyler faced each other, George heard catcalls from the crowd: “Get him, Tyler!” “Let’s go, Getz!!” Someone started a chant, “Ty-ler, Ty-ler…” and the crowd took it up with enthusiasm.
“Go George!” Celia yelled, apparently back on his side again. J.P., Liz, and Brian stood next to her, easy to pick out in their saint costumes.
For a moment George glanced up at the crowd; there were Sparrow Hills kids gathered all around, and more in the bleachers. In that moment, all the grim, bizarre costumes seemed sinister. It was almost as if he was surrounded by witches, monsters and demons. A crazy thought shot through his head: Maybe this is what the martyrs felt like, in the Coliseum.
“GO!” Henderson roared.
This is crazy, Allie thought as Tyler and George lunged at each other. I can’t believe this is happening.
“Who’s keeping score?” someone asked.
“Take him down, Tyler!” Flynt yelled.
“Hey, is anybody keeping score?” asked another wrestler whose name she didn’t know.
“Nah, Matt, it’ll be over before that,” Brock said.
“I don’t know,” Matt said. “Peterson’s pretty good…”
George and Tyler were locked together, straining and shifting. They looked evenly matched.
“TAKEDOWN!!” Flynt yelled. “What did I tell you? Yeah, Tyler!!”
Tyler had gotten George off his feet and was using his powerful shoulders to force George’s torso down.
“Pin him! Pin him!” yelled the crowd. It looked the match would be over in a seconds. Already Henderson was lying down, watching for the instant George’s shoulders touched the mat.
“Go, Tyler!” Flynt yelled. “Allie, you see what’s going on? He’s gonna pin him!”
People all around chanted, “Ty-ler! Ty-ler!” and Allie found herself joining in, too. “Ty-ler! Ty-ler!” she yelled.
But I don’t want either of them to win, she thought. I want it to be a tie. Please, God, let it be a tie…
The crowd roared. George had done something—she hadn’t caught what—to get free, and now he was on top.
“Escape!” Flynt snarled. The effect was grisly in his white face paint. “That kid is slippery!”
“No way, man!” Matt objected. “That’s a reversal!”
“It’s an escape!” Flynt retorted. “Two to one!”
“He’s got control!” Matt shouted back. “Two to two!”
Allie had no idea what they were talking about, but she saw Tyler struggle, and with a massive heave he ripped free of George’s grasp. Now both wrestlers stood back, panting heavily.
“Getz escape!” Flynt crowed. “Three to one!”
“If he escaped, then Peterson had control!” Matt retorted. “ Three to two! Good thing you’re not reffing, Flynt!”
A moment later both wrestlers were grappling again. This time, it was George who got the takedown; he wrapped his hands around Tyler’s wa
ist, got Tyler’s head between his legs, and heaved him to the ground.
“Come on, Tyler!!!” Brock screamed; but try as he might, Tyler couldn’t seem to escape from George’s grasp.
But George couldn’t pin Tyler either. Both boys grappled until Henderson yelled, “STOP!”
“Peterson’s up by one,” Brock grunted. “That’s how Henderson’s gonna score it, anyway.”
Sure enough, Henderson yelled out, “Peterson’s up four to three! Ready?”
The two combatants trudged out to face each other again. Tyler still looked trim in his Sparrow Hills singlet, but George looked a little the worse for wear with his now-rumpled T-shirt and shorts.
“GO!”
Immediately, Tyler charged at George, wrapped his arms around him, and threw him to the mat. Allie gasped, and the crowd roared, and several wrestlers cried out, “Takedown! Another takedown!”
“Come on, George!” someone on the other side of the crowd yelled—it sounded like Celia.
Tyler forced one of George’s shoulders down to the mat, but George had managed to get one arm free, and was propping himself up with it; it looked excruciatingly painful. But Tyler kept bearing down, and again it looked like a pin was coming.
With a roar, George threw Tyler off, and then grabbed both of Tyler’s legs. For a long time both wrestlers panted and heaved in a deadlock.
“That ties it up,” she heard Flynt yell.
The stalemate went on for a long time, neither combatant able to gain the advantage. Finally, Henderson yelled “STOP!!” and they separated.
It could go either way at this point, Allie thought. But which way do I want it to go?
George put his hands on his knees and panted heavily. He wished he had some water; that last bout had been tough. He wished he had his singlet, too; Tyler kept grabbing his shirt when they were locked up.
How am I gonna win this thing? He had known Tyler was good, and he wouldn’t have bet on himself in a match between them. They hadn’t ever wrestled each other before; Coach Lamar had never matched them… George realized he was just going on instinct out there. He didn’t have a plan.
“Come, on, think!” he whispered to himself. Tyler’s got more upper body strength—but he’s slow. I can keep getting points on escapes; but that’s not going to do me much good if he keeps taking me down. Two points per takedown, only one point for an escape.
“You ready?” Henderson asked him.
“Yeah,” George grunted, and walked out to face Tyler once again. Tyler wasn’t looking so cocky anymore; but he still had a confident look on his face. He knows he can win on points, George thought. I’ve got to pin him to win this thing.
“George! George!” He heard Brian’s voice from behind him, and without thinking, he looked around.
“Hey, Peterson! Let’s go!” Tyler shouted.
“You’re a biker, George!” Brian yelled. “A biker!”
So what? What is he talking about?
“Peterson!” Henderson yelled. “Are you ready or not?”
George turned back to Tyler and nodded. I’m a biker. So what?
“GO!”
Tyler didn’t rush him this time; maybe he was getting tired. They both trudged forward and got into a lock. When Tyler tried to heave him off his feet again, George kept his feet firmly planted. Then Tyler grabbed George’s left thigh and yanked…but George was ready for that too; besides, he had a lot of leg power from…
Biking. That was it. Tyler had stronger arms and shoulders—but George had stronger legs. From biking. He just had to get in the right position…
But they were still locked up, and he wasn’t going to throw Tyler. So the only solution was…
George relaxed his tensed shoulders, and immediately he fell, borne down by Tyler’s strength. He hit the mat, and knew that he was now down on points. Now he had to pin Tyler to win.
Using every ounce of speed and cunning he had, George wrapped both legs around Tyler’s waist, locked his ankles behind Tyler’s back, and then pushed and twisted at the same time.
Tyler wasn’t expecting that. George was able to flip him over with ease, and suddenly he was on top, his face only a few inches away from Tyler’s.
“Come on, George!” a familiar voice yelled.
He looped both arms underneath Tyler’s armpits, pressed his chest against Tyler’s chest and pushed. He felt Tyler’s panic as he realized he was trapped. George continued to push relentlessly, getting onto his knees to give himself more leverage. Slowly, Tyler’s chest went down…down…until his shoulders hit the mat.
“Come on, George!” the voice yelled again, growing more shrill and excited. It couldn’t be Allie, could it?
Tyler gave a massive, desperate heave with his shoulders, forcing them up for an instant. But George forced him down again, and he felt both shoulders hit the mat…one second…two seconds…
Henderson’s palm slapped the mat. “PIN!!!”
That’s it, George thought dazedly. I did it.
He let Tyler go, rolled off him, and lay on the mat, taking deep breath after deep breath, as the roar of the crowd washed over him.
Brock looked stunned. Flynt was shaking with silent fury. But Allie didn’t care; she was screaming her heart out now as Henderson lifted George’s arm into the air. “Yes!” she whooped. “All right!”
The whole crowd was cheering for George now; even some wrestlers were joining in, especially the younger ones. She glimpsed J.P. jumping up down like a maniac, his pope hat falling off; Celia was hopping with joy.
Suddenly Allie noticed that Flynt and Brock were staring at her in astonishment. What am I doing? she thought. Uh…this might look bad…
“What’s going on here?”
Silence fell as Coach Lamar strode into the gym. He was still wearing the gorilla suit, but he had taken off the mask, and there was a surprised, angry look on his face.
“Getz! Peterson! What’s going on here?”
Tyler and George. Neither of them said a word.
“We had a match, coach,” said Henderson. “Tyler and George wrestled, and I officiated.”
“Really?” Coach Lamar said. “Who won?”
“George pinned in the third period. But Tyler was up on points.”
“It was awesome!” Mahoney said. “The best match I’ve ever seen!”
“Okay, quiet, everyone!” Coach Lamar said. He was still frowning but looked less angry. “Getz, Peterson. Are you both okay?”
“Yeah,” they both mumbled.
“Good. Because if either of you had gotten hurt, you’d both be off the squad. You too, Henderson. I don’t want to see my best players down with injuries because of an unsupervised match. Now get out of here. I don’t want to see your faces in this school again until Monday. Got it?”
They nodded mutely and looked relieved to not have any worse punishment.
The crowd started to disperse, and Allie watched as the JP2 students greeted George enthusiastically, hugging him and slapping him on the back.
I should congratulate him, she thought. I really should. That was a great match.
“Babe.” Tyler grabbed her arm. He had a dark, grim look on his face. “Let’s get out of here.”
Weary but exhilarated, the JP2 kids waited outside Sparrow Hills for Mr. Costain to pick them up. George was sore and tired, but that was nothing compared to the warm, light feeling he was still basking in. He knew exactly what the feeling was: victory.
The others seemed to feel it too; J.P. was still bouncing around like a rubber ball, telling anyone who’d listen what a cool match it had been; Brian had a broad smile on his face; and Celia was full of praise for George’s exploits.
Liz sounded the only sour note, standing apart, a glum look on her face. “I can’t believe he saw me!” she said.
“Who?” Celia asked, puzzled.
“My boyfriend!” Liz said. “Rich Rogers!”
“You have a boyfriend?” Celia said.
“I don�
�t know if I still do,” Liz whimpered. “He saw me in this get-up and said it was stupid. He laughed at me!”
“You know, I think I like this guy!” J.P. dodged nimbly out of the way of Liz’s purse as she hurled it at him.
“It’s not funny!” she said. “We just started dating! My parents don’t know. He was already freaked out by my school, and now he must think I’m a freak too!”
George shook his head. He was having a good night, and he wasn’t going to let Liz ruin it. He remembered hearing Allie cheer for him even though she was supposed to be on Tyler’s side.
“There’s Dad!” Celia said suddenly. Sure enough, the Costain minivan had just pulled into the Sparrow Hills parking lot. An odd silence fell, as everyone remembered how they had gotten to Sparrow Hills in the first place.
“So, how did it go?” Mr. Costain said, as they silently piled into the back seats. “Where’s James?”
No one answered.
“Come on,” Mr. Costain said. “Did you evangelize anybody?”
That was such a crock!” Tyler said for the twentieth time to the crowd of sympathetic people in Madison’s living room. Girls shook their heads, and Flynt and Brock grunted in agreement as the theme from Nightmare on Elm Street played on the stereo.
Allie, sitting next to him on the couch, checked her watch discreetly. She felt tired and vaguely depressed.
“No kidding, dude,” said Brock. “I mean, it was just a lucky break. Freak accident.”
“It was a freak accident!” Tyler said. “A dumb trick. I should have won,” he turned to Allie. “Babe, you saw the whole thing. What do you think?”
She shrugged. “You both seemed really good.”
Tyler scowled. “And then Coach comes up and yells at us. What’s his problem, anyway?”
“Well, at least you didn’t get in trouble,” Allie said soothingly. Tyler needed to calm down; she was starting to get a headache.
Tyler looked darkly at the carpet. “It was just a crock,” he muttered. “Just a fluke.”
“You’re taking this a little hard,” Madison observed from a nearby chair, passing Tyler a pumpkin dish of candy corn. “It wasn’t a real match or anything.”
Catholic, Reluctantly (The John Paul 2 High Series) Page 15
