Body Slammed! (2 page)

“We've gotta raise our game. We've gotta hunker down. If we're gonna be a playoff team, we've all gotta take our game to the next level,” Coach Blaylock went on, dishing out his usual clichés. Of course, his speech wouldn't
be complete without his all-time favorite line: “Remember, men, there's no ‘I' in TEAM.” That was the one he used when Jesse complained about not being given more playing time.

After the meeting, Jesse stripped off his uniform and was about to step into the showers when the smack of a wet towel stung his butt.

“Nice going out there, slick,” Riley said, twirling the towel in his hand. Mitch Maloof stood next to him. “Who did you think you were playing for out there, the Sidewinders or the Ravens?”

“We won, didn't we?” Jesse said, wishing he had a stronger comeback.

Riley sneered at him. “Yeah, and we'll continue to win, as long as we keep you and the ball as far apart as possible.”

“Why are you taking a shower anyway, Baron?” Mitch asked. “The showers are for players who actually worked up a sweat.”

“Careful, Mitch,” Riley said, pretending to hold him back. “Baron might tell his old man to come beat us up.”

“Nah. His old man only knows how to fake fight. He wouldn't know what to do if he had to throw real punches.”

The two of them walked off, laughing.

Jesse would have loved to ram his fists down their throats, but that wasn't going to happen. First of all, they were both bigger than he was. Second, he wasn't going get himself suspended over those morons. And third, Jesse hated to admit it, but he probably deserved what he got. He was a lousy football player, and everyone knew it. He couldn't wait for the season to be over so he could put this crummy year behind him. He had no intention of signing up to play again, not that anyone would care.

While he got dressed he studied his reflection in the mirror. Coach Blaylock was probably right. He wasn't strong enough to be the starting center. Nor did he have the size or quickness to play any other position. Jesse stood five-ten and weighed two hundred twelve pounds, so he wasn't exactly a shrimp. Still, he thought he looked puny next to some of the gorillas he played against.

But for Coach Blaylock to compare him to his father? That wasn't fair. How could he possibly be anything like the six-foot, seven-inch, three hundred-twenty pound, skeleton-face monster from the lower regions of the Netherworld . . . his father, the Angel of Death?

CHAPTER TWO

F
or years, Jesse's father worked as a professional wrestler called the Angel of Death. He entered the ring dressed in a black, sleeveless shirt, black tights and black boots. He wore a black, hooded cloak and he carried a scythe. His long, black hair hung past his shoulders, and he painted his face like a skeleton. In short, his in-ring persona was that of the Death Figure or the Grim Reaper.

Like most top wrestlers on American Championship Wrestling, the Angel of Death was on the road, sometimes over three hundred days out of the year. Jesse missed spending time with his father and wished he could be home more often.

Then one night, during a match against Prince Romulus, the Angel of Death suffered a tragic accident when he leaped off the top turnbuckle, and his foot slipped on the vinyl covering. He severely fractured his ankle, and his injury almost ended his career.

Strangely, the accident appeared to be the answer to Jesse's wish. His father was home all the time after that. What Jesse didn't realize was that his wish would also lead to his parents' divorce.

He hadn't eaten supper, so he was starving by the time he got back to school after the game. On the bus, Wendell Cooley, Bucky Henderson and Goose Guzmán talked about eating at Chili's, which was fine with him. As hungry as Jesse was, he would have been happy if the guys had suggested picking up hot dogs at the truck stop.

None of them had a car, so they walked the three-and-a-half blocks to Chili's. Jesse's grandmother had been teaching him how to drive, but all he had was a learner's permit. The permit allowed him to drive, only if a licensed driver, twenty-one years or older, was in the front seat with him.

His father had promised to buy him a car once he got his license, but Jesse wasn't counting on it. His father had a habit of making promises he couldn't or wouldn't keep.

For example, after he broke his ankle, Jesse's father promised to give up wrestling. Throughout his career, he had suffered countless injuries—broken bones, concussions, tears to his knees—and he said he'd had enough. He said he would never step inside a wrestling ring again.

But instead of sitting in the stands, watching the Sidewinders defeat the Ravens, Jesse's father was in Phoenix, Arizona, wrestling Luke Mauldin at a house show, an untelevised event.

He also promised Jesse that, despite all the arguments he and his wife had been having, they would never get divorced. He assured Jesse that he loved his family more than anything in the world and that he wasn't going to lose what he had. Soon after that, Jesse's parents separated; their divorce was finalized early this year.

Jesse's parents sold their house, and his mother moved to Dallas, where she got a job teaching high school English. Jesse and his father remained in San Antonio and went to live with Jesse's grandparents.

Jesse knew his mother felt betrayed when he chose to stay with his father instead of going to live with her. But all his life, because of his father's career, Jesse had moved constantly, from city to city, from school to school, and he was never able to establish roots anywhere. After finally settling down in San Antonio, Jesse didn't want to move again. His grandparents, his friends and his school were there.

He apologized to his mother for his decision. He also promised to stay in contact with her, and unlike his father, he kept his promises. Jesse and his mother talked on the phone often. They also texted and emailed each other regularly.

After Jesse and his friends were seated at Chili's, a waitress came to take their order. While she wasn't looking, Goose purposely dropped a packet of sugar on the floor. He picked it up and handed it to her.

“Excuse me,” Goose said, smiling. “You dropped your name tag . . . Sugar.”

The waitress rolled her eyes and shook her head. She tossed the packet on the table and walked off without saying anything.

Bucky tee-heed like a little girl. “That's a good one, Goose. You dropped your name tag . . . Sugar.” He tee-heed again.

Most guys' voices have deepened by the time they reach Jesse's age, but Bucky's voice seemed to get higher the older he got.

“You'd better watch what you say to that waitress, Goose,” Wendell warned. “I've heard that if you make servers mad, they'll spit on your food before they serve it to you.”

Goose tore the sugar packet open and poured its contents down his throat. “Don't believe everything you hear, Wendy. Chicks like it when you flirt with them.”

“I was just getting ready to say that, Goose,” Bucky said in his high voice. “Chicks like it when you flirt with them.”

Goose wadded the sugar packet and tossed it at him. “How would you know, Bucky? You don't even like girls.”

Bucky scowled. “I do, too. You know Melissa Dugan? That new girl in my geometry class? I'm thinking about asking her out.”

Goose winked and said, “Yeah, I know who you're talking about. She's that real big girl the guys call Shrek.”

“They don't call her . . . ” Bucky stopped and kicked Jesse under the table. “Hey, look who just walked in.”

Sara Young and Riley King stood at the entrance. Sara held a long-stemmed rose in her hand that Riley had bought from a vendor who was selling them outside the restaurant. Sara's light-brown hair fell down the shoulders of her green sweater. Her eyes matched the color of her sweater. Riley whispered something in Sara's ear that made her giggle, bringing out the dimples on her cheeks.

Goose turned to Jesse and asked, “Man, how did you ever manage to lose a chick as hot as Sara Young?”

“I was just getting ready to say that, Goose,” Bucky said. “How did you ever manage to lose a chick as hot as Sara Young?”

That was a question Jesse had asked himself a million times.

He used to live down the street from Sara, and they dated for a while. Sara's parents weren't wrestling fans, but when American Championship Wrestling came to San Antonio, Jesse's father invited Sara and her family to attend the show at the Alamodome. He was still recuperating from his ankle injury, so he didn't wrestle that night. But he took everyone backstage to meet the wrestlers—the “boys,” as he called them. Sara's mouth hung open in awe at the enormous sizes of men like Jumbo Jefferson and Butcher Murdock. She loved the colorful costumes and masks of the Blue Dragon and El Azteca Dorado.

Afterwards, Sara told Jesse how much she and her parents enjoyed the show. She also said that her dad, who in the past, had scoffed at professional wrestling, had gained tremendous respect for what Jesse's father did for a living.

Jesse's mother was thrilled to be at the Alamodome, too, because she had been able to meet up with old friends. But what she especially liked was that her husband didn't have to wrestle that night. For years she had begged him to quit the wrestling business. She was tired of him being gone all the time. She also hated seeing him suffer injury after injury in the ring.

Sure, wrestling's scripted; almost everyone knows that. But even though the matches are predetermined, Jesse's father still got punched, kicked, slapped, body slammed and thrown over the ropes onto unforgiving, concrete floors. He had also been whacked over the head countless times with metal folding chairs. As brutal as all that sounds, Jesse's father loved it and missed being part of the action.

The downside of being a professional wrestler is the constant pain wrestlers live with. Jesse's father was on painkillers and other prescription medications, which Jesse's mother claimed were causing him to become moody and short-tempered. His father insisted there was nothing wrong with him. He said he was just frustrated at not being able to wrestle and was concerned about losing his spot. New wrestlers like Chris Choate and John Henry Sykes were being brought into the company, and Jesse's father worried that the Angel of Death would soon become irrelevant.

Jesse's parents argued often about his father's career, but now that he was home, it seemed as if they fought every day. Finally, Jesse's mother gave her husband an ultimatum—either he quit wrestling, or she would leave him. She had left him before, so there was no doubt she would do it again.

Jesse's father, who had never lost control of his temper before his accident, grew so angry that he drove his fist into the wall. He also kicked over an end table and smashed the lamp that was sitting on top of it. Terrified, Jesse's mother called Sara's dad, who was a San Antonio cop. He threatened to arrest Jesse's father if he didn't calm down. After that, Jesse's mother moved out of the house and went to stay with her sister, Gracie.

That was when Jesse believed his relationship with Sara began to deteriorate. He would call her, but she always had an excuse for why she couldn't talk on the phone. At school, she would cut him off, saying she didn't have time to visit. Jesse had a feeling that her dad filled Sara's head with weird ideas about his parents, especially about his father. Eventually, Jesse left her alone and that ended their relationship.

The food was brought out. Bucky and Jesse had cheeseburgers, Goose, the baby back ribs, and Wendell, a chicken Caesar salad.

“How about that touchdown run I made?” Goose said, gnawing on a rib. “Pretty amazing, right? Twenty-four yards. I got into the end zone practically untouched.” A ring of barbecue sauce had formed around his mouth.

“Well, how about me?” Bucky said. “I kicked two field goals.”

“A twenty-two yarder and a twenty-seven yard one,” Goose said, unimpressed.

“Still, I scored six points.”

“I'll tell you what else was amazing,” Goose continued. He pointed a rib bone at Wendell. “The four sacks Wendy made on Mosconi, the Ravens' quarterback. Every time Wendy lined up in front of him, I swear Mosconi looked like he was about to wet his pants.”

Wendell shrugged modestly. “The Ravens' offensive line is pretty weak. But if we're going to win district, we'll have to get past the Jaguars and the Dragons. Those guys are really tough.”

Jesse felt uncomfortable sitting there, listening to their conversation, since he hadn't contributed anything to the game. All he had done was cost his team nineteen yards.

He glanced over at Riley and Sara, who were sitting on the same side of a booth across from them. Riley was telling Sara a story that had her
giggling with delight.

Looking back, Jesse realized that the whole time he was with Sara he never really got to know her. He didn't know Sara loved roses. The rose-shaped earrings she wore didn't give him a hint. Neither did the rose pendant on her necklace. Or the pictures of roses on her binder.

“It's Sara's signature flower,” Jesse later heard Claudia Gutierrez tell Amanda Birch.