Above All Else (5 page)

chapter ten

One set of lights lit up Doug and his group, while another came up behind us. Going out the way we'd come in wasn't an option. Not that anyone was thinking strategically. We all just started running whichever way we were facing.

Someone behind me yelled, “Got one!” and I briefly wondered who it was that'd been caught.

“Run, Del,” Riley said. He was right beside me.

“Where?” I yelled. He didn't respond. We were in an every-man-for-himself situation.

I could vaguely recall the layout of the mall. There were two corridors I remembered getting lost in as a kid, one up on the left, the other around the corner, on the other side of the square. They both had restrooms, but only one had doors to the outside.

The problem was, I couldn't remember which was which.

Someone was right behind us, his flashlight beam reflecting off the walls, throwing our shadows on empty storefronts. I tried to make out the right corridor, hoping it hadn't been boarded up. Hoping that the door at the end wasn't chained shut or something.

“This way,” I yelled at Riley, but he'd stopped listening. He was rounding the corner, heading toward the square. I was certain the corridor on the left was the one with the door at the end.

I swung into it, my footsteps echoing loudly. I could hear people yelling, and something smashed.

At first it seemed as if our pursuer had followed Riley. But then the bright beam lit up the corridor and someone yelled, “Stop right there.”

I passed the women's restroom, then a set of lockers, a water fountain and finally the men's restroom. The end of the corridor was too far away for me to see whether there was a door or not. I just kept running, feeling my heart beating hard in my chest.

Whoever was following me had stopped running. As the end of the corridor came into focus, I realized why.

In front of me was a wall. I was in the wrong corridor. I turned back around.

“Got you, kid,” the guy said. “What are you doing in here? Don't you know this is our place?”

I darted back to the men's restroom.

The moon shone through a set of high windows, making it a little brighter inside. There was junk all over the floor. Empty boxes and bits of pipe. I had to make a quick decision. It would be possible to climb up on the end cubicle and get to the ledge that ran along the base of the windows, but I had no idea what was on the other side.

Instead, I grabbed the largest pipe I could find and threw it as hard as I could. One of the windows smashed. I ducked into a cubicle and jumped onto the toilet seat just as the restroom door opened.

“What the hell?” the guy said. “You didn't just seriously…” I froze. Tried not to breathe. I heard the guy pulling himself up onto the frame of the final cubicle. I dared to take a quick look. He was wearing a baseball cap and holding a giant flashlight in one hand.

I waited for him to get fully up on the ledge beneath the windows. Then I slid off the toilet and opened the cubicle door. The hinges heaved and screeched, and the guy spun around so fast, I thought he was going to fall off the ledge.

“There you are!” he said. I bolted out the restroom door and back into the corridor. There were lights all over the place farther down the main corridor. I could see people slipping on the floor. Flashes of legs and arms spinning wildly.

I hit the end of the corridor going full speed and turned to the right, hoping I could still get out where we'd come in. But when I was halfway down the corridor, two bright beams lit me up and someone yelled, “There's one of them!”

I slid under the accordion doors of what was once a comic-book store. I remembered
visiting this place in the past. The giant boxes of old comics on a table down the middle of the store and racks of new ones climbing each wall. The glass case beneath the counter with Magic and Pok
é
mon cards inside. But, more important, the back room, which was home to both a tiny, cell-like bathroom and an outside door.

I tripped over something in the dark, almost losing my flashlight. There was garbage everywhere. Turned-over shelves and broken glass.

The accordion door banged behind me.

“Get out here, you little shit,” someone said. I shone my light at the back of the store, then turned it off and scrambled to my feet. “You're trapped in here, kid.”

I banged my shin on something and almost wiped out again, hands just grazing the floor. Something sliced into my palm, but I barely noticed. I threw myself into the back of the store and, luckily, found the tiny hallway with the bathroom on one side and the door to a loading dock on the other.

I turned sideways and put all my weight into the door, making certain to hit the security bar with my hip.

The door popped open and I was out on a loading dock. I jumped to the ground and took off through the empty parking lot.

“Get back here!” someone yelled. I chanced
a look back. There were two guys standing on the loading dock, their flashlights trained on me. There was a big sprawl of graffiti on the wall behind them. I turned back around and ran as fast as I could.

Luckily, we had parked Jared's car on a nearby street. I could see someone leaning against the hood. As I got closer, I realized it was Riley.

“Holy crap,” I said, completely out of breath. “What the hell was that?”

“That was crazy. Did you see Jared or Oz?”

“No. I just kept running. How did you get out?”

“Are you kidding me? I used to spend hours in that place. It was like my mom's idea of babysitting. Stay in the mall. Don't leave with anyone. Don't go outside. I'll come find you in an hour.”

“Seriously? Your mom did that?”

Riley shrugged. “She didn't always have a choice. She worked at the shoe store. I used to come out here after school and just walk the halls.”

“Oh,” I said, grabbing my knees and trying to slow my breathing.

“So I know all the exits.”

“Any idea who those guys were?”

“Oz was talking about that gang who made this their hangout,” Riley said. We heard pounding feet in the darkness. I prepared myself to run.

“Oz, Jared,” Riley said.

“Get in the car,” Jared said, darting past us and unlocking the doors. “Come on. I don't know if we shook them or not.” Riley and I jumped into the back seat as Jared got the car started.

“What the hell was that?” Riley said.

Jared did a quick one-eighty and gunned it up the street.

“I have no idea,” Oz said. “But I wasn't going to stick around and find out.”

As we turned toward the highway, three guys with giant flashlights came running out of the mall parking lot.

“That was them,” Oz said. One of them threw something at the car. Jared stepped on the gas, and we roared down the street.

“Those weren't security guards,” Riley said. “No way.”

I looked at my hand. There was a small cut along my palm. It was dripping blood all over my pants. I looked through the back window at the guys who'd chased us. They turned back toward the mall, and I wondered whether Doug and his friends, especially Elsa's brother, had gotten out.

chapter eleven

Monday, after school, Coach arrived in the locker room five minutes earlier than he normally did. We were playing the seventh-place team in the first round of the playoffs. During the regular season, we'd destroyed them 6–1. But this was elimination time, and it seemed, year after year, that anything could happen.

“We're in the final stretch, lads,” Coach said. “We had a misstep. But don't think for a moment that the championship is not still firmly within our grasp. We need to look at this one game at a time. We need to
win today. And to do that, we need to play our best soccer yet.” He seemed strangely calm for the occasion. “Now, with the loss of Romano, we are without any subs. But I spoke with the league and they have allowed us to add a player who was not on the team during the regular season. However, we are unable to bring up one of our junior players due to age requirements. Luckily, we have a perfectly fine substitute who just happens to be a senior.”

A guy I'd seen around came into the locker room.

“This is Jean. He is originally from a suburb of Paris, am I correct, Jean?”

Jean nodded. He was thin and tall, with a curly mop of black hair.

“Jean played on his high school team over in France.” Coach put his hand on Jean's shoulder. “What position did you play there?”

“Defense,” Jean said.

“That should work,” Coach said. “We'll get you in right away, then. Dan, you can start the game out. We'll keep you rested and get you in for the second half.” Coach clapped his hands. “All right, lads, let's get out there and win, win, win.”

We were the first team on the field, which had never happened before. I didn't know whether this shifting of tactics was yet another mind game from Coach or if he had finally changed his ways.

“Welcome, boys,” the ref said. It was the same guy who had kicked Romano out and, in the minds of many of our players, lost the game for us by awarding a penalty kick. “I see we're timely today.”

“Do we get to flip the coin without the other team out here?” Jared said. “You know, decide on heads or tails once it hits the ground?”

“That would never happen,” the ref said.

The other team came out between the bleachers. A few of its supporters were in the crowd—though, again, “crowd” was a bit of an overstatement. It was a drizzly,
gray day, and only the most die-hard fans were in attendance. As I ran to my striker position, I noticed someone waving from the bleachers. Huddled there in a blue raincoat was Kira, waving like crazy and hollering at us. Elsa was beside her. She wasn't waving or yelling. Even though I didn't know her
that
well, she seemed angry.

“All right, guys, let's do this!” Jared yelled. The ref blew his whistle and Jared kicked the ball directly to me. There was immediate pressure from the other team as its striker and right midfielder charged. I kicked the ball back to one of our midfielders and sprinted forward as the other team began double- or triple-teaming whoever had the ball. If this was their strategy, it wasn't going to work unless they had a neverending supply of subs on the bench. You have to conserve energy in soccer whenever possible, and running around like the field is on fire is not going to do it.

Our team began cycling the ball, moving it forward and back. We were in no rush. With the other team wasting energy, it would be easy enough to eventually find a seam and move the ball upfield.

I have found that when playing a team intent on furiously chasing the ball down, one of the best techniques is just to stand still. You might have a defender kind of hovering around you for a bit, but eventually he'll get bored and cut to wherever the action is. So for a while, I simply stayed onside and waited. It was almost like being a spectator. The other team was nuts about running the ball down. It was as if they'd never played us before. If our team has one clear strength over the other teams in the league, it's ball possession. We could play this kind of game forever.

Oz had the ball up the right side and was taking stuttering little steps, trying to shake off two defenders. I moved up along the left side of the field. Oz spun around, driving straight across the field. He spotted me there all by myself and sent the ball out ahead of me.

I ran as hard as I could, catching the ball with the inside of my foot just as it was about to dribble out of bounds. The keeper went wild, yelling at his defense to get back. But there was no way they would catch me. They'd overcommitted and were locked on the right side, trying to get around all the players moving upfield. I brought the ball in quickly, making certain I kept control. As I got closer, I sent the ball a little farther out in front of me. The keeper locked on. I faked a high corner kick, and he took the bait. He dove and I simply steered around him and lightly tapped the ball into the open net.

There were a couple of hoots from our side. Someone slapped me on the back. But we kept the celebration to a minimum. And with that goal, it seemed as if we'd drained all the energy the other team had brought onto the field. I was pretty sure they hadn't even touched the ball. Yet there they were, hands on knees, heads shaking, gulping water as they moved back upfield.

We scored two more goals during the first half. One came unexpectedly from Jean, who blocked a shot at our end, then ran the entire field in one swift motion, moving around the defending players as if they were pylons. The other came from Oz on a nice corner kick that bent right in past the keeper's outstretched arms.

At halftime, Riley and I went to the bleachers to talk with Kira and Elsa.

“You guys are awesome!” Kira said. She threw her arms around Riley's neck and kissed him full on the lips. I hadn't talked with Riley about Kira, but apparently the two of them had become much closer.

“Hey, Elsa,” I said.

“We need to talk,” she said.

“Okay. Like, after the game?”

“Yes. Right after the game.” The whistle blew and we ran back to the field. I glanced back at Elsa once, but she wasn't even looking at me.

chapter twelve

We won the game 5–0. I was pulled partway through the second half to allow our one sub a bit of playing time. I honestly didn't mind. I was more concerned with what Elsa had to talk to me about than with the game. Plus, I'm not all that interested in humiliating other teams. Coach never specifically said that's what we should do, but he did tell us to “send a message.” Once we'd won, there was maybe a little too much celebrating for my liking. A lot of high-fiving and yelling on the field as the other team slumped back to the locker room to change.

I ran over to Elsa as we left the field.

“I just need a shower. Where can we meet?”

“I have the van,” she said. “We'll be in the parking lot.” Kira and Riley were locked in an awkward-looking kiss. Kira looked like she wanted everyone to know she'd managed to snag some great catch. Riley seemed more concerned that people would notice this blatant
PDA
.

“Come on, Riley,” I said, clapping him on the back. He let go of Kira and ran with me back to the change room.

“We pulled that one out nicely,” Jared said. He was standing in the middle of the locker room with a towel wrapped around his waist.

“That was too easy, mon,” Oz said. Then Romano came in on his crutches.

“Good game, guys,” he said.

“That one was for you, man,” Jared said. “That one and all the ones to come. They're for you, bro.”

Coach came in smiling. “Good game, lads. One down, two to go. Jean, really nice game.”

Jean had already taken his shirt off. He had looked tall and skinny before, but it was evident that he worked out. He had a six-pack like no one else in the room. His arms were thin but muscular. “Thank you,” he said.

“I think we might move you up next game. Maybe midfield, or you could swap out with the strikers. Does that sound good?”

“Okay.” There were some nervous glances around the room. We always talked about working as a team, but when it came right down to it, no one wanted to be shifted out of his position unless it meant the possibility of scoring more goals.

“We have another game tomorrow,” Coach said. He patted Jared on the back, then silently left the room.

“Everyone who wants to can come to my dad's restaurant tonight,” Romano said. “First round of pizzas on us.”

“Nice,” Jared said, putting an arm around Romano's shoulders. “We'll be there.”

Riley and I found Elsa's van in the parking lot. Kira was talking on her cell phone and Elsa was sitting on the floor with her feet sticking out the side door.

“Hey,” I said.

“Who'd you tell?” she asked as soon as Riley had gone around the van.

“What?”

“How did your friends know about Doug not being with my brother that night?” She wouldn't look directly at me. I didn't know what to tell her.

“I never said that you told me.”

“But you told your friends what you heard from my brother,” Elsa said.

“I just said I had heard that Doug might not have been where he'd told the police he was. That's all.”

“But you wouldn't have known that if you hadn't been with me.” She still hadn't looked at me. I didn't know what to do. I leaned against the side of the van.

“They were ready to go after someone else. I didn't figure anything would come of it.”

“Well, something did.”

“What?” I said.

“My brother got beat up the other night.”

“At the mall?” I said before I could stop myself.

She finally looked up at me. “How did you know about that? Were you there?”

“It wasn't us. We just went there to talk. Then these other guys showed up. I think they might be a gang or something. Did one of them get your brother?”

“Yeah, one of them got my brother. And they think those guys were with you.”

“No way! They chased us too. We thought they might be security guys at first, but…” Elsa was staring at me. “Is he okay?”

“What do you care?”

“Well, he's your brother and…”

“Yeah, but he's also your main competition, isn't he? What's your motto here?
Winning above all else
? Isn't that what this team is all about?”

“The team, yeah, but not me,” I said.

“What makes you so different?” She stood up and slammed the side door closed. She opened the driver's-side door and got in.

“Those guys who got your brother weren't with us. They chased us too. We were just lucky to get out of there.”

“Sure, you were lucky,” Elsa said. “And my brother wasn't.” She turned and yelled out the other window, “Come on, Kira.”

“What?” Kira said.

“Let's go.”

“But we were just—”

“Let's go, Kira. Or you can stay here if you want. But I wouldn't.”

“What's going on, El?” Kira said.

“We're leaving,” Elsa said.

“Elsa,” I said. “It's not how you think it is.”

“No?” She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes. “You don't want to talk to me right now. Call me if you figure out how it
actually
is.” She slammed her door closed. I saw Kira give Riley one last kiss, then climb in and close her door.

We watched the van leave the parking lot and shoot through the stop sign.

“What just happened?” Riley said.

I didn't know what to tell him. I'd made a mess of things very quickly. “I don't know,” I said.

“Women, right?” Riley slapped my back, then ran his sleeve along his lips. “That Kira sure does like to kiss a lot.”

I laughed. “And you're complaining?”

“No. Not at all. Come on, let's go to Romano's and eat some of that crappy free pizza.”