Just for Kicks (7 page)

“Take him out, Cuz,” one of the Pleasant Harbour supporters shouted.

She moved towards me with the ball. I went at her with a crunching tackle. Her elbow crashed into my stomach. As I doubled up she went to pass me. I swung my foot and caught her ankle. She fell. The ball trickled away to Meredith.

Referee Lord put his whistle to his lips as though he was going to blow for a foul, but lowered it and said, “Play on.”

Cuz glared at me. “You Brunswick Valley players — you're all the same — dirty!” She stuck her tongue out at me.

I taunted, “What's the problem? Don't you like losing?” and stuck my tongue out at her.

Meredith took the ball towards our goal while Cuz and I picked ourselves up. Shay faced Meredith, so she slipped the ball to Quan as he overlapped her. Quan skipped past Linh-Mai and prepared to shoot. With a glance at the referee, who was watching Meredith and Julie as they jostled for position in front of the goal, Linh-Mai grabbed Quan's arm and pulled him backwards. The ball rolled to Shay, who sent the twins on their way upfield.

“Foul,” shouted Quan's dad from one side of the field.

“Good girl,” Linh-Mai's dad shouted from the other.

“Little snit,” Quan hissed at Linh-Mai.

“Dork,” she spat back.

I lumbered after the twins, but by the time I reached Olaf's penalty area, he'd caught Jillian's weak shot easily. He trotted to the edge of the penalty area to kick it out.

“Get back, Brunswick Valley,” our coach roared.

The defenders had pushed upfield to support our rare attack on the Pleasant Harbour goal. Now Olaf sent a huge kick over our heads. It landed at the feet of Cuz. She set off towards our goal.

Coach Ferret shouted, “Meredith, stay with Cuz. It's a sure goal.”

Meredith was standing near me. I glanced at the referee. He was watching Cuz. I grabbed hold of Meredith's shirt.

She spat, “Let go, Tub,” squirming to get free.

I said, “Okay, four-eyes,” and suddenly released her.

She staggered forwards out of control and fell heavily on her face. She rolled slowly over and sat up. Her red glasses lay beside her, muddy and twisted out of shape.

Meanwhile Cuz thundered towards Linh-Mai, our only defender who had stayed back. Linh-Mai poked her foot timidly at the ball. Cuz shouldered her aside, leaving her sprawling on the ground, and streaked toward Brian's goal.

Coach Fleet yelled, “Someone — stop her!”

Brian danced on his toes, crouching, arms hanging loose, ready to move out and narrow Cuz's shooting angle.

No one moved except Cuz and Brian — until Julie whirled past me and flew down the field, her hair streaming behind her. Cuz glanced over her shoulder and sprinted faster towards our goal. She was too far in front for Julie to head her off and too fast for her to overtake. Brian moved forwards, his eyes fixed on Cuz's flying cleats.

Mrs. Barry screamed, “Take her down, Julie!”

Shay muttered, “Julie — no.”

Julie launched herself forwards, one foot lunging between Cuz's galloping feet. Cuz's arms flew up and she twisted sideways as she crashed heavily to the ground.

The ball trickled to Brian.

Cuz and Julie sprawled on the ground, panting, their legs tangled together.

Shay and Chip stared across the Back Field towards the hills between Brunswick Valley and Pleasant Harbour, where the Mountain Road wound past the old farm.

“Good defence,” shouted Mrs. Barry.

“Great tackle,” said Mr. Price.

Zebediah Lord strode to where Julie and Cuz lay. He reached into his shirt pocket. His hand was shaking. He held up a card.

It was red.

He hissed at Julie, “Get off the field.”

The boos of the visiting supporters turned to jeers as Julie rose and started to walk.

Coach Ferret addressed the parents around him. I heard, “Disgraceful … undisciplined … should be suspended.”

Mrs. Barry led the Brunswick Valley crowd in sympathetic clapping, but this, like the jeers of the Pleasant Harbour crowd, stopped when Zebediah Lord looked in their direction.

Julie headed slowly off the field, her head down. Passing close to Shay, she paused and looked at him, tears in her eyes. Shay didn't move. Julie walked on towards the sideline. Her mom ran onto the field holding both hands out. Julie shook her head and walked past her. Coach Fleet reached a hand towards Julie but she brushed past him, too. The parents fell back and she walked through them. She flung herself down beside the alders at the edge of the field, her head in her hands.

Cuz limped from the field, supported by her coach and Quan's dad. The Pleasant Harbour supporters applauded. The Brunswick Valley crowd watched in silence.

When Zebediah Lord blew his whistle to end the game, the Brunswick Valley supporters cheered wildly and chanted, “The kids from Pleasant Harbour can't take the heat. They whine and cry 'cause they got beat.”

From the Pleasant Harbour parents I heard shouts of, “Disgraceful exhibition … If that's the only way you can win … You should be ashamed of yourselves.”

Brian's father retorted with, “Two-one. You lose!” The home crowd joined in, jabbing fingers across the field with the rhythm of their new chant. “Two-one — you lose! Two-one — you lose!”

Alan Fleet held out his hand to Cory Ferret. The Pleasant Harbour coach hesitated, shook it briefly, then strode away, followed by his team. I looked for Cuz but she was already limping towards the bus, with Meredith and Quan at her sides, her arms draped over their shoulders. I guessed we wouldn't do a goodbye hug.

Julie knelt on the ground by the alders. Mrs. Barry stood nearby. Meredith's father stood over Julie and said, “You shouldn't be allowed on a soccer field.”

Julie's mom said, “Leave her alone.”

“She tripped that girl deliberately.”

“It's all part of the game.”

“It's all part of Brunswick Valley's game is what you mean. Brunswick Valley has never played fair.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means what it's always meant. If you come to Brunswick Valley, you expect dirty play. It's always been that way.”

“What's always been that way is Pleasant Harbour doesn't like to lose.”

They were moving closer and their voices were growing louder.

Brian's father stepped between them and stabbed at Meredith's father's chest, saying, “Why don't you pick on someone your own size?”

Meredith's father pushed Mr. Price in the chest and growled, “Any time.”

As Brian's father fell backwards, he grabbed the other's collar and pulled him down with him. Julie was still on the ground, looking from one to the other.

Mrs. Barry spat, “Teach him not to threaten our Julie.”

The parents rose, breathing heavily, their fists clenched. Before they could move, Conrad rushed between them and said, “Cool it — both of you.”

Meredith's father snarled, “Let's get out of this stinking town.”

As the Pleasant Harbour team bus pulled out of the Back Field, our old friends gazed through the windows at us. We gazed back, silent.

The twins left with their mom without saying goodbye. Linh-Mai's dad muttered, “Let's go home,” and led Linh-Mai away. Mr. Price caught Brian's eye and jerked his thumb towards Brunswick Street. He strode away, Brian hurrying after him without looking in our direction. Mr. Fleet stood beside the field, his hands in the pockets of his Mechanics tracksuit, his head down.

Mrs. Barry crouched beside Julie. “Are you coming, pet? Conrad will give us a ride home.”

Julie said, without looking up, “I'll be along, Mom. I want to walk home.”

“Are you sure you're all right?”

Julie nodded and sniffed, her eyes still on the ground.

Conrad said, “Quite the game.”

“Where's Grandad?” asked Shay.

“He's waiting in the van. Toby's ma is with him. Are you coming?”

Shay looked at Julie and said, “I'll walk.”

“Me, too,” I said.

Mrs. Barry looked hard at Shay and me and said, “Treat her right, boys.”

The rest of our team left with their moms and dads, and our supporters drifted away, until Shay and I were left with Julie, who was still on her knees. Shay stood beside her. She was crying. He held one hand towards her, then withdrew it. I wondered where I belonged in this scene. I didn't know whether I should leave them or stay.

Julie sniffed, “What was I supposed to do? Let Cuz score?”

Shay muttered, “I didn't say anything.”

“You wouldn't have brought Cuz down, would you?”

“I don't know.”

“
Would you
?”

“I said I don't know.”

“
I
know. I know you wouldn't have.” She looked up at me. “Toby, would you have stopped Cuz like I did?”

“I don't know.”

I thought of how close Cuz and I had come to blows when she elbowed me and I tripped her. But would I have sliced her down from behind, ruthlessly, with the risk of injuring her? We'd had plenty of squabbles growing up together, and while sometimes they ended in name calling, and even with a shove or two, they were never serious, and we always quickly made up.

I stammered, “Cuz is my cousin …”

Julie scoffed, looking from Shay to me, “What a couple of nice guys. Mr. Perfect-Who-Never-Fouls, and Toby,” Julie put on a baby voice, “I wouldn't foul her because she's my cousin.'” She beat her fists on the ground and let out a howl, which turned into renewed sobbing. “I'm the one who saved the game but I'm the one in disgrace.”

“You're not in disgrace,” I said quickly.

“No? Did you see how the Pleasant Harbour kids looked at me? Did you hear what their parents called me — while the two of you kept your hands clean and enjoyed the win?” She glared at us, her eyes fierce. “It's time you realized sometimes you have to do these things to win. Winning is important. We won the game. Didn't you
want
to win? Aren't you proud of winning?”

“I don't know,” said Shay.

I remembered what I'd said on the Mountain Road about wanting to beat Pleasant Harbour because I was mad at Meredith, and at the parents who'd called me “Loser.” But now we'd won, it didn't seem to matter, and I didn't feel any better. I shrugged. “I guess I did want to win — but I wouldn't have minded losing, not too much. I'm used to it.”

“You did want to win, both of you, and you are proud of winning, even if you won't admit it. But you better remember, if I hadn't done your dirty work you wouldn't be feeling proud of yourselves.” She added quietly, “Proud of yourselves … and ashamed of me.”

“No,” I said. “Oh no. Never.”

Shay murmured, “Julie …” He stretched one hand tentatively towards her again. When his fingers brushed her hair she shook her head fiercely and said, “Go away. Leave me alone.”

“Your mom always says to treat you right. She wouldn't want us to leave you by yourself. She'd want us to look out for you.”

“Like you did in the game, I suppose.”

“What was I supposed to do?” Shay cried.

“You could have helped me up, or asked me if I was all right, or walked off the pitch with me, instead of just staring at me.” She looked up at Shay, tears streaming down her face. “You could at least have said, ‘I understand.'”

“I do understand. I just didn't know what to do.”

“You don't have to worry. I can look out for myself.”

Julie rose, wiped her nose with her sleeve and rubbed her eyes. She set off towards the playground. She looked back once. Her eyes were red and her nose was running again. Strands of her hair, wet with snot and tears, were plastered across her face. Shay didn't move. Julie sniffed, turned, and went on. Shay watched her go. We stood in silence.

A few minutes later he collected his soccer ball and dribbled it slowly towards the playground. I sat on the bank, looking across the empty field, remembering our first game of the season — Brian swinging from the crossbar, Cuz and Chip trotting in from the Back Road, me scoring with my stomach, Shay's brilliant goal, the stranger watching. It seemed a hundred years ago. I sighed, picked myself up, and plodded slowly after Shay.

13

I always have a seat by the window on the school bus, because I'm one of the first to get on. As we ride down Riverside Drive, I see Julie and Shay walking to school, and I give them a little wave. It's a funny thing, waving. When we were little kids, we gave huge waves, our hands high and flapping wildly. Now we're older, our waves have grown smaller, or have disappeared completely, replaced by a casual, hardly noticeable nod of the head. Julie always smiles and raises her hand, wiggling her fingers, while Shay, his face serious, sort of bobs his head to one side. For as long as I can remember — well, ever since we were in kindergarten — we've done this every morning, me waving from the bus, Shay and Julie walking to school together.

But on the Monday after the game, they walked separately.

First I saw Shay. I nearly missed him, because he was by himself, and I was looking for two people together. There was no point in waving, because his head was hanging down and his eyes were fixed on the ground. A moose could have walked right past him and he wouldn't have seen it. Further along the Drive, Julie marched along, also alone. Although her head was up, I think she was seeing even less than Shay. I tried my usual little wave, but she didn't seem to notice.

As I climbed off the bus at school, the twins were getting out of their mom's minivan. We looked at each other, as if we were going to say the usual things, like “Hey,” and “What's up?” Then we looked away and walked on without speaking.

I hung around in the playground until Shay arrived. Without speaking, we set off for class together. As soon as we entered the school I saw Julie coming towards us down the hallway with Linh-Mai. When Julie saw us, she walked back the way she'd come. I turned to see if Shay had noticed — and found he was walking back the way we'd come. I was left facing Linh-Mai. While I was still trying to think of something to say that had nothing to do with the game, Linh-Mai, keeping her eyes on the ground, turned away from me and disappeared into a classroom.

Brian arrived late for class. He sat still and silent instead of noisy and fidgety the way he usually is. In between classes he drifted around like a ghost.

At recess I suggested to Shay, “Shall I tell Julie you want to talk to her?”

Shay shrugged. “You can try.”

I found Julie in the playground with Linh-Mai and said, “Shay wants to talk to you.”

Julie said, “Ask him what he wants to talk to me about.”

I went back to Shay and said, “Julie says, what do you want to talk to her about?”

Shay said, “Ask her does that mean she wants to talk to me?”

Back to Julie: “Shay says, does that mean you want to talk to him?”

“It might — but first he has to say what he wants to talk to me about.”

I reported back to Shay, who insisted, “First she has to say what
she
wants to talk to
me
about.”

I trekked back to Julie and Linh-Mai. “Shay says, what do
you
want to talk to
him
about?”

Julie folded her arms and tossed her head. “
If
I want to talk to him, it's probably about the same things he wants to talk to me about, but he has to say what those things are, because he asked me first.”

Linh-Mai tossed her head like Julie.

I plodded back to Shay. “Julie says
if
she wants to talk to you, it's probably about the same things you want to talk to her about, but you have to say what those things are because you asked her if she wanted to talk to you first.”

Shay agreed, “Okay. I'll tell her what I want to talk to her about, but she has to say
when
she wants me to tell her and
where
she wants me to tell her.”

Back to Julie: “Shay says okay. He'll tell you what he wants to talk to you about, but you have to say
when
you want him to tell you and
where
you want him to tell you.”

Julie said, “Tell him I only said
if
I wanted to talk to him and I haven't decided yet.”

Linh-Mai said, “Right,” and nodded fiercely.

I went back to Shay and said, “Julie says to tell you she only said
if
she wanted to talk to you and she hasn't decided yet.”

That's when I gave up, but at least I'd tried to make things better. I didn't really want to talk to anyone on the team, except Shay. I didn't want to be reminded of the game.

On Wednesday after school Shay and I looked after the shop while Mr. Sutton was out delivering flowers. Shay leaned against the wall behind the counter, his hands in his pockets and his shoulders slumped. I sat on a packing crate, my elbows on my knees and my chin resting in my hands.

I said, “What are you staring at?”

“Nothing.” It was the first time we'd spoken for over half an hour.

A few minutes later Shay said, “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing.”

Five more minutes passed, then Shay asked, “Do you want to kick the soccer ball around in the driveway?”

“Not really.”

“Neither do I.”

Shay shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He sighed. I lifted my head from my hands and let my arms dangle between my knees.

A butterfly flew in through the open window and fluttered among the flowers. I wondered whether to catch it and take it outside, or whether it would be better off staying inside now that the nights were getting colder. I supposed it didn't really matter. It was doomed either way.

The telephone rang. Shay answered with, “Sutton's Flowers. How can I help you?” He listened and said, “It's Shay. Grandad's out delivering flowers. I'm looking after the shop with Toby.”

Shay listened again. He mouthed at me, “It's Mr. Fleet,” beckoning me over and holding the telephone so that we could both hear. He said into the phone, “Toby's listening.”

Alan Fleet said, “Hello, Toby. I have a message for you and Shay, and for all the team and for all the parents. We have a game against Pleasant Harbour on Saturday.”

“I thought the season was finished,” said Shay.

“The parents don't want the season to end with the teams level on points. They want a final game to decide who will be champion. So we're playing at Pleasant Harbour on Saturday afternoon. Be sure to tell your grandad, Shay; and, Toby, tell your parents. We want a big crowd there.”

“Do you want us to tell Julie?” Shay asked.

There was a pause, then Mr. Fleet said, “Julie won't be playing. She's not allowed.”

“Why not?”

“When the referee gives you a red card, it doesn't mean you're suspended from just that game, but from the next game, too. Referee Lord says that's the usual rule and we have to follow it if he's in charge of the games.”

“Does Julie know?”

“I've just told her.”

When Shay put the phone down, I said, “Should we go over and see Julie?”

“Julie doesn't want to talk to me,” he said.

We lapsed back into silence for another ten minutes, until suddenly the door crashed open and Julie marched in. She strode across the shop and stood in front of Shay, one hand on her hip, the other clutching a little bunch of goldenrod, which dangled, wilted and crushed.

“I suppose you've heard,” she snapped.

Shay nodded, stunned.

Julie stamped her foot. “It's not fair.”

Shay shook his head.

“Just because I tripped Cuz, it shouldn't mean I have to miss a whole game.”

Shay shook his head again.

“I suppose you think I deserve it.”

“'Course not,” said Shay.

Julie slammed the little bunch of flowers on the counter in front of Shay. “That's all I could find. There aren't any flowers left in our garden. I got these beside the Back Field.”

She threw herself down on a bench that Mr. Sutton used for displaying flowers and burst into tears. With a pot of purple chrysanthemums on one side of her and a basket of yellow asters on the other, and dried flower arrangements hanging above her, Julie was like a fairy princess in a flowery grotto — a very upset fairy princess.

Shay came out from behind the counter. Holding the goldenrod in one hand, he stood uncertainly before the weeping Julie. He reached out his other hand and patted her on the shoulder.

He said, “Sorry.”

She looked up. I held my breath.

I said, “Do you two want me to go away?”

Julie sniffed and said, “'Course not. We're all friends, aren't we?”

“Hope so,” I mumbled.

Julie looked back at Shay and repeated, “Aren't we — friends?”

Shay nodded.

The butterfly, which had settled among the asters, took off. It circled the shop before flying out of the still-open door.

Julie said suddenly, “I know I shouldn't have tripped Cuz. I didn't know I could play so dirty.”

“We were all playing dirty,” I said, “all except Shay and Chip.”

Shay interrupted. “I felt like getting mad. I just didn't have the courage to do anything about it.”

“You mean you had the courage
not
to do anything about it,” I suggested, adding quietly, “I wish I had that courage.”

“You stayed so … cool,” said Julie, looking up at Shay. She added sadly, “I guess we're different.”

“That doesn't mean we can't be friends,” Shay said quickly.

“I never want to play soccer again,” said Julie.

“Do you really mean that?” Shay asked.

Julie thought for a moment, then said, “I mean — I never want to play soccer again
like that
.”

“I never want to play again if it's going to be like last time,” I said. “Even if I feel I'm doing something for the team, it's not worth it if it's not fun and everybody's getting upset.”

“We never used to get mad at one another,” Julie reflected. “It's not as if anyone's
making
us get mad.”

We looked at one another.

“Are you sure?” Shay said darkly.

Julie nibbled at her lip. “It's having the parents at the games, isn't it? We never got mad before they started coming to watch. Now we're playing as if it's war because of them; because they want us to win and it doesn't matter how. If they weren't watching, I think our games would be like they used to be.”

“But Mr. Fleet told the parents to come out and support us,' said Shay. “We can't say they're not allowed to come.”

“It would be all right if they behaved themselves,” I said.

“I hate it when Mom gets mad and shouts at the Pleasant Harbour kids and parents — and at me,” murmured Julie. “I don't want to play if she's going to carry on like that.”

“It's not just your mom,” I put in.

“Okay. I don't want to play unless
all
the parents behave themselves.”

“That sounds reasonable,” Shay agreed. “But we can't make demands on the parents.”

“Wait,” I muttered. “If we say what we want … and our demands are reasonable … if we negotiate…”

Julie and Shay looked at one another, and back at me.

“What?” said Shay.

“I have an idea,” I said. “Let's call Chip and Cuz and the others.”