Crossing the Barrier (31 page)

MALAKAI

That Saturday of
Thanksgiving weekend, Malakai looked at the scoreboard of the regional game for the twentieth time during the fourth quarter.

One minute thirty-one seconds left to play. Points: twenty for the Warriors, twenty-four for the other team.

It was the farthest the team had ever gone in the playoffs, and they had to win.

The ball was in their camp, and they had sixty yards to go to score a touchdown. The game wasn’t lost. The game could still be won.

Malakai was feeling the pressure on his shoulders and in his mind. The stress of the game was taking its toll, but he had to keep on giving his all for a little while longer. After that, it would be over.

He couldn’t hear the crowd anymore. His eyes were set on player forty-two in front of him, the one who was trying so hard to make them lose. Malakai didn’t like that guy one bit. For the entire game, Forty-Two had blocked him, and Malakai was beginning to resent him, even though he didn’t know him.

The crawl toward the goal line began, a few slow feet at a time, and now they had to put it all in.

With twenty seconds to play, at the twenty-five-yard line, they had to try the all-or-nothing strategy; otherwise, they would lose. It was a hard one, but they could pull it off if done right. They had practiced it before, over and over again—but with Tristan, not this alternate quarterback. The sophomore had been injured in the last quarter and had to be replaced.

Malakai was exhausted. He wanted to lie on the ground, roll up in a ball, and sleep for a week. “Come on! Come on!” he cheered, clapping his hands as much for himself as for his teammates.

Then the ball was in play.

Malakai ran down the field, ran past the goal line, and here came the ball. But it wasn’t supposed to be thrown at him. Since Malakai had scored all his team’s touchdowns, the play was for him to act as a decoy and get the attention of the defense while the quarterback passed the ball to Luis on the other side of the field.

The quarterback hadn’t followed the plan.

Malakai had no choice; he set himself to catch it. It was coming toward him. He was right where he should be. He could catch it. They would win.

Then, suddenly, the impact.

Forty-Two, who had been pursuing him for the entire game, knocked him away from the ball’s path. Malakai fell to the ground, another player landing on his left arm. In the next instant, the whistle went off, and Malakai looked up. One of the guys who had been chasing him had caught the ball, the ball the quarterback had decided to throw at him instead of following the plan.

“No!” Malakai screamed. “No!”

Malakai remained on the ground, numb.

It was a foul on the defensive side, he knew it, and it would bring them to the ten-yard line. Even knowing it was a foul, with eleven seconds to play and still a chance to make it, Malakai couldn’t help but feel like a failure. It was his fault he didn’t catch the ball. He should have tried harder.

He had let his teammates down.

They had been so close.

“Malakai, you okay?”

David. It was David.

“Malakai?”

In the next moment, some other people were around him. He didn’t want to see any of them. He wanted to be left alone.

“Thomas, you injured?” another player asked.

Malakai realized he was but the pain in his heart had dulled the pain in his left arm.

“Malakai, your arm,” someone else said.

Malakai couldn’t say who. The pain in his arm was now blinding him.

“I’m all right!” he yelled so they would all stop talking. “I’ve got to go back to the line.”

“No, you’re not,” the defensive line coach said, helping him to his feet.

They walked to the sideline where the other players were waiting.

“Malakai, your arm’s not all right,” David said.

Malakai hadn’t even realized the coach had been replaced by David.

“I don’t care!” Malakai said, removing his helmet.

Only his upbringing prevented him from throwing it away in frustration.

He didn’t want to talk to anyone. He wanted to find himself a punching bag and hit it until he collapsed in exhaustion. He hadn’t caught the ball, the ball that was their chance at winning.

He walked away from David and went to sit on the bench.

“Dude, it wasn’t your fault,” Tristan said, sitting next to him. “You did everything right. You followed the plan. You’re not the one who went off script.”

Tristan just wanted to make him feel better, Malakai knew, but he didn’t have it in him to cheer up. Tristan was holding his arm against his body, a pack of ice on his shoulder.

The crowd on the other side of the stadium exploded in cheers, and the game was over.

And it was lost.

Malakai sat on the bench, his head low, tears freely flowing from his eyes.

They had lost.

They had worked so hard for this, sacrificing so much, even the Thanksgiving holiday, but now it was all over. They were going home.

“It’s a miracle we came this far,” Luis said, trying to cheer Malakai up again. “This was last year’s number one team in the state. We did really, really good.”

Malakai was half-conscious of the people moving around him, getting ready for something, going somewhere.

“Come, Malakai,” David said gently, putting his hand on his shoulder. “They’re waiting for us for the school song.”

Malakai stood up slowly and followed David to the row of players facing the band. His left arm was throbbing painfully, and when David tried to grab his little finger as they did after every game, he cried in pain.

“Dude! When we’re done here, we’re finding the medics,” he said.

“No,” Malakai said softly. “I…I’ll be fine.”

David glared at him for a long moment before turning to the band. The director had tried for the last minute to get them organized enough to play, but for one reason or another, it was taking longer than usual.

“I think my sister and Lily are crying.”

Lily.

With all his disappointment, Malakai had forgotten about his beautiful girlfriend.

He searched the crowd and found her in an instant. Her eyes were red, like half of the band members for that matter. Some of them were hugging each other, crying openly. It warmed Malakai’s heart to know he wasn’t the only one to feel the pain, the pain that was his failure…

Finally, the director got them organized enough to play, and the school song sounded sadder than usual.

When it was over, the players walked away but Malakai just stayed there, staring at Lily. She was looking back at him as she wiped the tears from her eyes with her gloves. Finally, she waved at him and blew him a kiss with her hand, a small smile on her face. He blew her a kiss back and left for the locker room.

How could she still love him after seeing him fail so miserably?

When Malakai entered the locker room, it was unusually subdued and quiet. Most players had tears in their eyes.

“Okay there, Thomas?” one of the players asked, putting his hand on his shoulder.

Malakai nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

“Listen up, guys! You did good. You gave it your all, and I’m proud of you,” Coach said.

Malakai hadn’t realized Coach had joined them.

“I want you all to walk out of here tonight with your heads held high. You should be celebrating because while you may not see it that way, you made quite a few people very proud tonight.”

Malakai didn’t hear the rest of what was said. He walked to the bench and sat. He put his helmet on the ground, then tried to remove his shirt and shoulder pads, but the pain in his arm was making it near impossible. Someone helped him, he didn’t know who, and finally, the bulky pads were off, and he began to shiver. He was freezing cold in his wet underclothes. Again, someone put a towel around his shoulders, and he had no clue who. Finally, all was quiet, and he looked around. Only a few players remained, and Malakai remembered he had to take the bus back to school.

Someone put a hand on his shoulder, and Malakai looked up.

David.

The lips of his friend were moving, but Malakai couldn’t hear what he was saying.

“Malakai, you okay?” he finally heard.

“I’ve been better,” he mumbled.

“Yeah, me too. Listen, dude, we’ve got to go.”

Malakai nodded and took his school jacket from the hook in the locker. He put it over his shoulders, then grabbed his bag and his shirt and pads. But he couldn’t hold the latter. His arm was seriously starting to hurt, and he could barely move his fingers.

“Give me the bag,” David said, grabbing Malakai’s bag and helmet.

Malakai took his shirt and pads, and followed David out of the locker room. Quite a few parents were still there, and as David and he walked out, they applauded. Tears came to Malakai’s eyes again. Then a man wearing one of his jerseys appeared in front of him. It was all so fuzzy he couldn’t recognize the face.

“Dad?” he mumbled.

It couldn’t be him. His father was supposed to be out of town.

“I’m proud of you, son,” the man said and hugged Malakai.

Malakai smelled the aftershave.

It was his dad.

His dad was here.

His dad was hugging him.

Malakai let his shirt and pads fall to the ground and hugged his father back, a sob choking him. “I didn’t catch the bloody ball.”

“Malakai, from where I was standing, you would have, if those three guys hadn’t been coming at you. It wasn’t your fault. Those guys had no business tackling you.”

“But I still didn’t catch it,” he said with another sob. “I should have. I was at the right place, at the right time.”

“I know. But it wasn’t your fault, son. The mistake wasn’t yours. The other team made the foul play. They tackled you and interfered with the pass. They knew what they were doing. Besides, there was another guy down the field who was wide open and could have scored.

“Listen, son, this team has done better than they ever have, and it’s in large part because of you. Don’t ever forget that.” The sergeant let go of Malakai and held him at arm’s length, squeezing his shoulders tightly. “You’re still one of the best wide receivers this team has ever seen,” he said. “Be proud, Malakai. Not a lot of kids have gone as far as you have. And you know there’s still college next year.”

Malakai nodded.

“Malakai, the bus,” David called.

“Now go. I’ll see you at home when you get there,” his father said with one of his rare smiles.

“You’re not leaving?”

“No. I’ll be in town until noon tomorrow.”

Malakai nodded, grabbed his shirt and pads, and slowly walked to the waiting bus. He got in and made his way to his usual seat toward the back. He sat down and held his painful arm against his chest. Something was definitely wrong, but the blood still pounding in his ears made it difficult for him to concentrate long enough to figure out what. All he knew was his arm was hurting like hell and he wanted to go home to sleep.

Malakai put his head on the headrest, grateful they had comfortable charter buses today and not their regular yellow ones, and closed his eyes.

“Malakai, dude, you’ve got to have that checked,” David said.

He must have dozed off somehow because he didn’t hear his friend join him.

“I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not.”

David picked up his phone and stood up. He walked away, and Malakai found himself alone again.

“Malakai, you okay?” Tristan asked.

“Why is everybody asking me that?” he said, not even opening his eyes.

Malakai didn’t know how long he was left to his own devices, and he must have passed out again because the next thing he knew, the trainer was in front of him.

“Malakai! Malakai!” he called. “Open your eyes, Thomas!”

Malakai slowly opened his eyes. The pain was now unbearable, and he had a hard time breathing.

“Stupid, stupid boy,” the trainer said, shaking his head and taking the seat next to him. “I should have known you weren’t all right. Your arm’s the size of a watermelon. You shouldn’t be on this bus. You should be in an ambulance on your way to the hospital.”

“No…” Malakai meant to say it strongly, but he just didn’t have the strength anymore, and it came out as a croak.

“Coach is trying to reach your dad,” the trainer said.

He put a bag of ice on Malakai’s arm, and Malakai cried in pain.

“It’s okay, Thomas, we’ll take care of you. You’re coming with me now. The ambulance’s still here and will take you to the hospital.”

“I want to go home,” Malakai said, but it came out as a whisper.

“I bet you do,” the trainer said, shaking his head firmly. “But you’re going to the hospital now. You have a college career to think of.

“David, please help me get him out of here.”