Lacrosse Face-Off (6 page)

Then it hit him.
Todd,
he thought.

That morning, Todd had said to go on ahead without him because he'd forgotten something upstairs.
I bet he wanted me out of the house so he could search my room for his precious monster-and-magician cards!

Well, he'd found them. Then he'd taken the sweatshirt as his way of letting Garry know he'd found them.

Garry slumped onto his bed and put his head into his hands.
Now what?
he thought. The ball was definitely on his side of the field, but he didn't know what to do with it.

G
arry waited all through dinner that night for his brother to say something about the cards, the sweatshirt, or both. But the
only thing Todd talked about was the game scheduled for the next day.

“You'll be there, right, Mom?” he asked.

“Wouldn't miss it!” she replied. She reached across the table to ruffle Todd's hair. Then she stopped and peered closely at
her older son.

“What?” Todd said, leaning back from her gaze.

“You look different, somehow,” she answered, still staring.

Todd flushed, a pleased smile spreading over his face. “Maybe,” he said shyly, “it's because I've lost a little weight. Four
pounds, actually.”

Now Garry stared at his brother too. It was the first time he'd really looked at him for days, and he realized that their
mother was right. Todd did look different.

Mrs. Wallis's eyes widened. “Four pounds! My goodness! All because of lacrosse?”

Todd shrugged. “That's a big part of it, I guess. Plus I'm trying not to eat junky snacks so much. Coach Hasbrouck has been
helping me with that. Seems he used to have a weight problem too.”

Garry tried to imagine the coach as a fat man and found he couldn't. “Wow, um, keep up the good work, Todd,” he finally said.

Todd gave him a cool look. “Oh, I will,” he said. “After all,” he added, his voice suddenly full of meaning, “no matter what
some
people might want, I don't plan on
quitting lacrosse.
”

Garry choked on his potatoes.

“Well, I hope not,” Mr. Wallis said as he thumped Garry on the back, “since it's done such a world of good for you.”

Todd smiled at his parents, picked up his fork, and continued eating. Garry, on the other hand, couldn't swallow another bite.

That night he lay in bed, unable to sleep because his mind was whirling. Somehow, Todd had found out that Garry was supposed
to force him to quit. But how? And how could he explain that he'd refused? His brother would just think he was lying. After
all, he'd practically stolen his cards, so what was to stop him from lying too?

The next morning, Todd was gone by the time Garry got downstairs. In fact, he didn't see him all day. That suited him just
fine. He still hadn't figured out what, if anything, he was going to say to his brother.

When the final school bell rang, Garry hurried to the gym locker room to get ready for the game. Many of his teammates were
already there, including Todd and Jeff. Garry was reaching into his locker to get his gear when he heard his brother give
a sharp cry of horror. Garry peered around his locker door.

Todd was staring at his lacrosse stick, his face filled with dismay. At first Garry couldn't see what was wrong. Then Todd
reached into the pocket—but instead of stopping at the mesh, his hand passed right through. Someone had slashed the netting
to ribbons!

The realization had scarcely crossed Garry's
mind when Todd came charging toward him, looking angrier than Garry had ever seen him in his life.

“You did this, didn't you?” his brother yelled.

Garry recoiled in shock. “What? No, I didn't!” he protested.

“Yeah, right, like I'd believe anything you'd say!” Todd spat. “I heard you yesterday morning.”

“What are you talking about?”

Todd folded his arms across his chest. “Don't play innocent with me, Garry! I heard you talking with Evan. I believe your
exact words were 'I'm going to make Todd quit.'” He jerked a thumb at his lacrosse stick.'"Well, it's going to take more than
a stupid act of vandalism to get me off the team!”

Jeff put an arm around Todd's shoulders. “Come on, Todd,” he said. “I've got a spare
stick. You can use it until you get this one fixed."

Todd started to turn away, but then he stopped. “Oh, and you better give me my cards back when we get home. I know you have
them!” Then he stormed off, with Jeff at his heels.

G
arry stood stock-still, trying to process what had just happened. His own brother thought he was a liar, a thief, and a vandal!
And the worst part was, even though Garry knew Todd was mistaken, he could see why he thought those things. What he couldn't
see was how he was going to convince his brother that he was wrong.

Unfortunately, he didn't have time to work it out now. More players had filled the locker room to prepare for the game. If
he didn't hurry, he'd be late. He quickly put on his pads, tugged his jersey over them, grabbed
his helmet and stick, and headed out to the field.

He was halfway there when he realized he'd forgotten his mouth guard. With a groan, he reversed direction and went back to
the locker room. As he stepped inside, he heard whispers. He recognized the voices immediately: Evan and Michael. He froze
in his tracks, listening.

“I can't believe you did it! Totally awesome! I mean, that really took guts!” It was Evan, praising Michael for something
yet again.

Michael gave a low chuckle. “No kidding. But you know me,” he said, filling his voice with mock seriousness. “I'd do anything
for the team!”

“And the best part is,” Evan gloated, “he thinks Garry was the one who did it! His own brother! When really it was you who
cut the mesh!”

“Yep,” Michael replied. “Thanks to these here scissors!”

Garry heard the soft
snick
of scissors being opened and closed. Mouth guard forgotten, he slowly backed away, easing the door shut so that it wouldn't
make a sound.

Michael was the one who ruined Todd's stick! I've got to tell Todd
—
and the coach!
he thought frantically as he rushed back to the field.

But when he got to the field he found his mother standing with Todd. She was trying to get him to take a sweatshirt from her.

“Mom, I've not cold,” Todd said, shoving the shirt back at her.

“Just in case,” she insisted.

Todd gave up. “Fine! I'll use it as a cushion.” He snapped the sweatshirt open, then stared at it with a frown. “This isn't
even mine, Mom.”

Mrs. Wallis looked puzzled. “Isn't it? Then
what were your cards doing wrapped up inside it?”

Now it was Todd's turn to look confused. “My cards were wrapped up in this?”

Mrs. Wallis tapped her finger against her chin. “Yes, but come to think of it, I found that at the back of Garry's closet
on laundry day. Guess it's his.” She took the sweatshirt from Todd and handed it to Garry. “Here you go, honey. Well, good
game, you two!”

“Hold on,” Todd cried. “Mom, do
you
have my cards?”

She nodded apologetically. “Oh, dear, I forgot to give them back to you, didn't I? They must still be in the closet in the
bathroom, above the washer. Sorry, sweetie.” She gave Todd a peck on the cheek, then hurried to the bleachers.

Garry and Todd stared at each other. Finally, Garry broke the silence.

“I did have your cards,” he confessed. “But
I thought you'd searched my room and found them.”

“I figured you had them,” Todd admitted. “Why didn't you give them back?”

Garry reddened. “I was mad at you. I know you ran away from me that day at the library.”

Now it was Todd's turn to look uncomfortable. “I'm sorry about that. I just didn't want you to catch me playing…” His voice
trailed off.

“Catch you playing what? With your cards? I've seen you play with those lots of times!”

“Not cards.” Jeff joined them. “Todd, why don't you just tell him what we were doing?”

Todd sighed. “Wall ball,” he finally said.

“Come again?”

“Wall ball,” Todd repeated. “I was trying to get better at lacrosse by playing wall ball.”

When Garry still didn't look as if he understood, Jeff explained. “Wall ball is a way
to practice throwing and catching by yourself. You find a big wall, throw the ball against it, and catch it. There are different
drills you can do, but basically it's throw and catch.”

Garry remembered the sound he'd heard. “Then that weird noise was the ball hitting the wall,” he said. “Well, why didn't you
want me to know about you playing wall ball?”

“It was my idea, actually,” Jeff said. “Remember that first day at practice? You seemed a little, I don't know, embarrassed
by Todd.” Garry hung his head. “And since it was obvious that Todd didn't know much about lacrosse”—here Todd hung
his
head—“I decided to see if I could help out. I borrowed a book of lacrosse drills from my dad and asked Todd if he'd like
to get in some extra practice time with me.”

“So that's what you've been doing with
Jeff all those afternoons?” Garry asked his brother.

Todd nodded. “I probably should have asked you to come too, but I don't know. I guess I wanted to surprise you or something.”

Garry thought about how much better Todd had been playing lately and smiled. “You sure did surprise me. I mean, you really
have improved, you know!”

Todd grinned. “Thanks, bro.” Then his face darkened. “So does this mean you don't want me to quit the team anymore?”

Garry held up his hands. “Todd, I never wanted you to quit.” He explained the true meaning behind what he'd said to Evan that
morning. “And there's something else you should know,” he added, lowering his voice. “Michael was the one who ruined your
stick.” In hushed tones, he told them what he'd learned in the locker room.

“We've got to tell my dad!” Jeff said when Garry had finished.

Garry had been thinking the same thing, but now he shook his head. “Michael will just deny it, and Evan will probably come
to his defense, as usual.”

“We can't just let him get away with it!” Jeff protested.

“We won't,” Todd said, smiling a slow smile. “I have an idea, something we can do that will hit Michael right where it'll
hurt him the most!” He whispered his plan to the other two boys.

Jeff grinned. “It's brilliant!” he said. “But it won't be easy. It'll be like playing the whole game a man short. And we'll
have to get some of the other Rockets in on it.”

“I know Pedro would be up for it,” Garry said. “And I'd bet Conor would be too.”

“Christopher can't stand Michael,” Todd
assured them. “But stay away from Samuel and Eric. They're as much in love with him as Evan is.”

“Come on,” Jeff said, “if we're going to do this, we have to do it now. The game's gonna start soon.”

G
arry ran to the locker room to retrieve his mouth guard, then helped Todd and Jeff tell their plan to others on the team.
Fifteen minutes later, more than half of their teammates had agreed to join in.

“You know, it's about time we showed Michael what teamwork is really about,” Pedro said as he ran onto the field alongside
Garry. Garry gave him a thumbs-up and took his position in the wings to await the face-off.

As usual, Michael was in the center for the face-off. Before the referee came onto the
field, he gave Garry and Pedro his usual signals to indicate they were to pass him the ball so he could score.

“Not this time, bucko,” Garry said softly. Then the game began.

Michael clamped and raked the ball clear of the circle. The ref signaled that the Rockets had possession. Garry charged forward
and scooped up the ball. Michael was halfway to the Bulldogs goal and signaling for a pass.

Garry glanced at him, then hurled the ball to Pedro, who, knowing a pass was coming his way, had streaked to the center. As
Pedro caught the ball on the fly, Garry rushed down the sideline. Pedro flung him the ball and ran toward the goal.

Garry had hoped to get Pedro a quick return pass, but his way was blocked by two burly Bulldogs. He heard Jeff call to him
at the same time that Michael screamed for a
pass. Garry stopped short, pivoted, and threw the ball—to Jeff.

Jeff dodged around a Bulldog, did a perfect inside-and-out feint, and fired the ball at the Bulldogs goal.
Swish!
Score!

“Beautiful!” Garry cried, pumping his fist in the air. Pedro high-fived Jeff on the way back to their starting positions.
Michael looked as if he couldn't believe what had just happened.

He had the same look three minutes later, when Jeff, Garry, Pedro, and Conor worked the ball around the field until Conor
was able to take a shot. The ball hit the net, billowing it out backward, and another point was added to the Rockets side
of the scoreboard. The Rockets cheered loudly.

The Bulldogs, meanwhile, seemed confused that the Rockets weren't passing to Michael.

“I thought the coach told us that number twenty-seven was the one to watch,” Garry overheard one Bulldog say to another. “That
guy's not doing anything!”