Football Hero (2008) (13 page)

ON MONDAY, TY WAITED
until his teammates emptied out onto the practice field before he removed the plunger from the metal door of his locker. He didn’t want anyone to hear the sucking pop it made when he yanked it free. With everyone around, he had pretended it didn’t exist. On his way out, he tossed the plunger behind an old set of lockers near the door, then jogged across the wet field just as Coach V sounded his whistle.

Rain poured down in sheets, and the wind whipped spray through the metal face mask and into Ty’s eyes. Five minutes into stretching, his practice uniform already clung to his skin, sending shivers through his bones. At the whistle, Ty lined up with the other receivers to run pass routes for the quarterbacks.
Calvin West jumped in front of Ty, grinning through the wet. His blond hair hung like dark seaweed, plastered across his forehead.

Ty crouched down in his stance, digging his cleats into the soggy turf.

“Gonna punk you out, Toilet Boy,” Calvin said under his breath, flexing his fingers as a giggle leaked from his throat.

Michael Poyer called out the cadence through the hissing rain and hiked the ball.

Ty took one short, quick power step. He exploded up into Calvin, striking him under the chin with his helmet and in the chest with his hands. He drove his feet. His fingers clawed into Calvin’s armpits, digging up jersey and skin so that the tall blond tyrant let out a squeal. Ty kept going, driving him up the field until he tripped and flopped to his back. Calvin flapped his arms and legs like a hurt bird. Ty rose up off of him and blasted him again.

“Hey!” Calvin cried out.

“Lewis!” Coach V screamed, blowing his whistle and running over. “We’re running pass patterns!”

Ty looked innocently at the coach, unable to see his eyes behind the water-spotted mirror sunglasses.

“Sorry, Coach,” Ty said, holding out his hands. “I thought you said we were blocking.”

Coach V frowned and walked away, and Ty jogged to the back of the line.

The next time Ty’s turn came up, Calvin let
another defensive back work against him. Ty ran a perfect post route, catching the ball for a touchdown. He wondered if it could really be that easy. It wasn’t. The next time, Calvin pushed in front of another player to face off with Ty. Calvin didn’t say anything; he simply glared. Ty crouched down in his stance again. Instead of running a deep route straight down the field, Ty blasted Calvin, driving him right past the sideline and over the top of a bench.

“Lewis!” Coach V screamed again. “
What
are you doing?”

Calvin lay moaning on the ground, grabbing at his back with his legs slung over the seat of the overturned bench. Ty got up and walked away.

“He was pressing me, Coach,” Ty said. “I couldn’t get him off me, so I figured I should block him. Like in a game.”

“In a game?” Coach V said, twisting his face.

“Yeah, that’s what you said,” Ty said. “If we can’t get off a press and the ball gets thrown, make sure we block downfield. We can spring the other receivers for a touchdown that way. That’s what you said, right?”

“This is a passing drill,” Coach V said, pushing past Ty, kneeling beside Calvin, and helping him up. “Run the pattern.”

Calvin sniffled, rubbing his back where it had hit the bench. Ty nodded and turned away before he let himself break out into a grin. Calvin stayed away from Ty during the skeleton pass drill called
seven-on-seven and he lined up on the other side of the field when it came to team self-scrimmage as well. But Ty remembered his brother’s advice about stalking and being relentless.

On the first play, a run, Ty crossed the entire field on a full sprint and plunged the forehead of his helmet into Calvin’s ear hole, dropping him in his muddy tracks as if he’d been hit by a bus. Instead of walking away, Ty reared back and dove on top of him again, pummeling Calvin with all the force he could bring to bear and knocking the wind out of him in a great gasping gust.

Calvin’s eyes got big, and his mouth worked open and closed like a gurgling frog. He clutched his neck and rolled his head side to side. Finally, his breath came back in a terrific sob. Calvin’s eyes filled with tears. He rolled on his side and threw up what looked to Ty like the remains of a bologna sandwich but smelled of Doritos.

Coach V and his assistant picked Calvin up under the arms and half dragged, half carried him off the field, to the bench, where they sat him down. Coach V patted Calvin’s back, then marched out onto the field and blew the whistle, yelling at them to get back in the huddle and stop staring like a bunch of Girl Scouts at a cookie sale.

In the huddle, Ty noticed his teammates glancing at him from behind the bars of their masks. No one said anything, but when he stepped into his place, the
players on either side made plenty of room. Poyer winked at him and called an 819 boot pass. That meant Ty would run a nine, just a straight sprint, right to the end zone.

“I’ll be open,” Ty said.

“I know,” the quarterback said.

The cornerback in front of Ty tried to jam him at the line. Ty feinted left, then right, then came back to the left and sped up the field by himself. The pass flew into the air, apparently too far for Ty to get it. He found that other gear and kicked it in with a burst of liquid speed. He stretched and leaned and plucked the ball from the air. His teammates cheered. When he returned to the huddle, everyone clapped him on the back.

That was only the beginning. The rest of that chilly wet afternoon, Ty put on a clinic of running and catching. He couldn’t see Coach V’s eyes, but Ty had to imagine that they sparkled with joy.

The success of the offense left the team in a festive mood, even during wind sprints. As they jogged to the locker room, no fewer than a dozen players patted Ty on the back. He nearly forgot about Calvin West.

He remembered clearly, though, when Coach V appeared at the entrance to the locker room with a scowl on his face. His sunglasses hung limp from his hands, and his hair dripped rain down his face. His eyes showed no expression, but the tone of his voice sounded serious and angry when he said, “Lewis. In my office. Now.”

TY PASSED THROUGH HIS
half-naked teammates and the smell of sweat and mud. His cleats clacked on the tile floor, a lonely sound that echoed off the shower walls. A locker creaked and quietly closed. Through the glass window, Ty could see into the office. Coach V sat with his arms folded, his back to the locker room. The bald spot in the middle of his otherwise thick black hair glowed red. Ty looked back to see everyone staring at him. He offered up a brave smile and turned the corner into Coach V’s office.

“Shut the door,” Coach V said.

Ty’s hand trembled as he reached for the wooden door. He closed it softly until he heard a click.

Coach V stood, leaning toward Ty, hovering over him. His hands tightened into fists, and he banged
one of them against the file cabinet. Ty winced at the crash.

“Do you know what you did?” Coach V yelled, his face turning purple. “Calvin West is
hurt
.
Injured
. Out for I don’t know how long! What you did was bull! I won’t have it! I won’t accept it!”

Coach V banged the file cabinet again. Beyond him, through the glass, dozens of frightened faces stared. Coach V spun around, saw them too, and dropped the blinds, cutting off half the light in the office. Ty felt trapped. The walls seemed to close in. Coach V stopped huffing. He grew quiet and sat on the edge of his desk.

When his shoulders began to shake with a chuckle, Ty thought the coach was losing his mind. His mouth turned up at the corners and that scared Ty even more.

“Now, you want to know what I really think?” Coach V said in a whisper, leaning forward and touching Ty on the shoulder. “I think you did good. I think you did
great
. I saw what he was doing to you, but I wanted to see what you were made of. What you did today,
that’s
what it takes. Toughness, meanness. You can’t just run fast. You gotta have some of that nasty inside you or you get eaten alive in this game. You’ve got it.”

Ty took a deep breath and let it out in a ragged puff. “Why did you yell?”

Coach V glanced over his shoulder at the blinds. Keeping his voice low, he said, “Knocking him over the bench? I can’t openly condone that. I’d lose my job. I had to yell at you or I’d have the parents and the principal down my throat. I gotta make it look good. But I’m telling you, man-to-man, what you did, he deserved. You’re gonna be a good one, Lewis. Maybe a great one. Now get out of here, and look upset when you leave. This stays between me and you, but if that jerk starts up with you again, you do just what you did.”

“You think he’ll start again?” Ty asked.

Coach V puckered his lips. “Not openly, but he’ll do something. Something sneaky. I’m not worried about out on the practice field, but don’t you let him trick you into a fight in school. He’s, like, a black belt in Tae Kwon Do or something. And you’ll get kicked off the team if you fight, and I need you. You watch your back.”

THE NEXT DAY, CHARLOTTE
found Ty in the corner of the lunchroom, at a table by himself, facing the rest of the cafeteria.

“Want company?” she asked, sitting down and opening up her Garfield lunch box.

“Sure,” Ty said. “Why do you still have that lunch box?”

“You think my parents would buy me anything new?”

Ty nodded with understanding.

“Why are you here in the corner?” she asked, picking the salami out of her sandwich and dangling in front of her mouth before slurping it down.

“I don’t want Calvin West sneaking up on me,” Ty said.

“I heard about that,” she said. “Michael Poyer was
talking to someone about you dissing him and him wanting paybacks.”

“Coach V told me to watch my back,” Ty said, chewing on his peanut butter sandwich as he scanned the lunchroom.

“I got your back,” Charlotte said.

Ty looked at her and saw that she was serious.

“You’re a girl,” he said.

“I’m a year older than him,” she said, sitting up straight and drawing her shoulders back.

“Okay,” Ty said, not wanting to argue and sorry that he might have insulted her. “Thanks.”

Their conversation turned to Thane and his new house and the neat things they thought they’d find in the rooms earmarked for them. After a few minutes, Ty grew quiet.

“What’s wrong?” Charlotte asked.

“I just don’t want to be a mooch,” he said. “You don’t think I’m talking like a mooch, do you?”

“You’re just excited,” she said. “Me too. It’s not like we asked for the stuff, but if he wants to do it, all we’re doing is being grateful. He wants us to be excited. He’s like that, your brother. You are so lucky.”

Ty thought about his parents, but he forced a smile and agreed with Charlotte that he was lucky and that Thane was the best. Charlotte looked at her watch and said she’d better go. She had music and the class was on the far side of the school. She patted Ty’s shoulder and told him she’d see him after his practice.
Ty watched her go, then scanned the lunchroom before darting to the exit and hurrying down the hall.

He climbed a crowded staircase toward his locker on the second floor. He needed to pick up his science book and folder for his next class. The buzz of conversation stopped when he reached the top landing. The crowd parted, and the traffic on the stairs behind him came to a stop. Calvin West and his three biggest buddies blocked the doorway leading out of the stairwell.

Calvin stepped into the empty space between them, holding his hands in loose fists, up and ready. The stairs behind Ty and the landing below quickly emptied, but beyond that, the packed-in group of faces stared up with wild-eyed excitement.

“Come on, Lewis,” Calvin said. “You think you’re so tough?”

Ty shook his head. “I don’t.”

“Don’t what, Turd Man? You don’t think you’re tough?” Calvin said, raising his voice. “You were tough yesterday when you took a cheap shot at me.”

“I didn’t,” Ty said, his voice sounding small and weak.

“I say you did,” Calvin said, talking even louder. He stood toe-to-toe with Ty now, bumping his chest into Ty’s. “So let’s see how tough you really are.”

“I don’t want to fight,” Ty said.

“You little pansy. You’re fighting. Right here, right now.”

“I don’t want to get in trouble,” Ty said.

“Boo hoo,” Calvin said, whining. “Toilet Turd Face.”

“Hey!” someone shouted.

Calvin’s three friends turned and pushed at someone who pushed them right back until she burst into the open space on the landing.

“You leave him alone.”

“Charlotte,” Ty said.

Charlotte had her books under one arm. In her other hand she still carried her lunch box. Pink blotches highlighted the pale moon of her face.

“Wow, Super Freak Girl wants to save Turd Boy,” Calvin said, laughing. “You’re such a pansy you’ve got some dorky girl trying to save you. You think you’re a football player? You’re so weak.”

“I said, leave him
alone
,” Charlotte said, her voice rising to a scream.

“What are you gonna do, freak?” Calvin said.

He spun around and dumped Charlotte’s books, spilling them across the floor.

“You jerk!” she yelled, closing the gap so that her nose almost touched his.

Calvin palmed Charlotte’s face with his hand and shoved her backward into his three buddies. They pushed Charlotte back out onto the landing, laughing. But instead of taking it, Charlotte swung her metal lunch box with blinding speed in a wide arc that connected with the side of Calvin West’s head with a hollow metal bang.

Every kid in the stairwell sucked his or her breath in at the same time. Calvin’s eyes rolled and he staggered like a loopy boxer. Charlotte wasn’t finished.

With a high-pitched screech, she grabbed him by the shirt and shoved him, hard. Back he went, stumbling and flying off balance down the stairs. Calvin did a cartwheel and hit the lower landing with a terrific crack and a scream of his own. Charlotte stood at the top of the steps huffing and puffing and glaring down at Calvin, whose arm stuck out from under his body at a funny angle.

“I told you,” she yelled over the sound of Calvin’s screams. “Leave him alone!”