Suspended (8 page)

The Wanderers cheered.

“The first round will be the dribbling contest,” Mr. Leavitt announced.

Each coach stood behind a row of pylons with a soccer ball at his feet.

“The first to dribble the ball through the pylons is the winner,” Mr. Leavitt intoned. “Ready — go!”

Ice and Coach Pellerin were level all the way. Mr. Pellerin drew ahead near the finishing line, but slipped and fell. His ball rolled into the path of Ice, who gathered it with his left foot, while his right foot kept control of his own. While Coach Pellerin picked himself up, Ice took both balls round his last pylon before passing one back. The St. Croix coach crossed the finishing line just ahead.

“Where did Ice learn to dribble like that?” muttered Brian.

Mr. Leavitt boomed, “Coach Pellerin wins!”

Wild applause erupted from the spectators and the St. Croix team.

“The next event is the ball control contest, in which the coach who keeps his soccer ball in the air longest, without using his hands, wins,” said Mr. Leavitt.

All the coaches quickly lost control, except Ice, who looked as if he was in another world as he juggled the ball with his head, feet and knees.

Next the coaches had to kick from one side of the field to the other and land the ball in a hoop. Only Mr. Pellerin and Coach Ice succeeded.

“The St. Croix coach and the Cemetery Road Wanderers coach are tied for first place with one round left,” Mr. Leavitt announced. “The final event is the penalty shootout. The coaches will take penalty kicks in turn, dropping out if they fail to score. We have a special guest goalkeeper for this event — please welcome … Jordan Thorne of the Eastern Canadian Cougars!”

Brian gasped, “He's the best goalkeeper in the league.”

Jordan Thorne was like a gangly giant — tall and broad shouldered, with long arms and huge hands. He grinned shyly and gave a little wave in response to the applause.

The coaches lined up to take their penalty shots.

When it was Coach Pellerin's turn, he called loudly, “Hi, Jordan.”

The goalkeeper nodded. “Nice to see you, Ross.”

Coach Pellerin shot and scored.

Ice stepped forward.

Jordan Thorne said uncertainly, “Ice? Ice Field?”

Ice nodded, then coolly scored.

The Bethel Station coach was knocked out when he missed the goal, and in the next round Jordan Thorne stopped the Westfield Ridge coach's shot.

Coach Pellerin fired the ball past the goalkeeper and said to Ice, “Think you can do another lucky shot?”

Ice kicked left, past Jordan Thorne, who'd dived right.

The St. Croix coach took a long run up and blasted the ball. Jordan Thorne tipped it wide of the post. A groan went up from the spectators.

“If the Cemetery Road coach can score — he wins the coaches' competition,” Mr. Leavitt announced.

Ice took his time placing the ball. He took three steps back and looked up at Jordan Thorne. With his eyes still on the goalkeeper, Ice trotted forwards. Jordan Thorne dived right. Ice shot left. The ball rocketed into the net.

Jordan Thorne picked himself up, shook Ice's hand, and said, “Same old tricks.”

Ice said, “Good goalkeeping, old buddy.”

“I wish you were still with us,” said Jordan Thorne.

“I declare the Cemetery Road coach the winner!” Mr. Leavitt boomed.

A few of the spectators applauded politely while the Wanderers cheered.

As Ice returned to us, I said, “You were with the
Cougars?
”

Linh-Mai looked at Ice with shining eyes.

“How did you know to kick left?” said Brian.

“I've played with Jordan lots of times,” said Ice. “He always looks in the direction he's going to dive.”

“When … How …” Brian started.

Ice went on quickly, “Let's get ready for the game.”

As we prepared to take the field, the St. Croix coach sauntered over. “Look, fellas,” he said. “When Mr. Finch discovers Cemetery Road School doesn't exist, there's going to be trouble. But if you concede the game, I'll drop the accusations, and that'll be the end of it.”

Ice looked at me.

I shook my head.

“We can play the game,” Coach Pellerin pressed. “All you have to do is tell your team to throw it.”

Ice looked at me again. “You're captain. What do you say?”

“I say — glory.”

“Meaning — ?” the St. Croix coach demanded.

“Meaning you can shove your offer,” said Ice.

Coach Pellerin's eyes narrowed. “You'll regret this. We'll beat you — then we'll destroy you.”

13

Mostly, when I think of the game, I remember the silence at the end, broken only by the applause of a lone Wanderers supporter.

The play comes back to me in a series of highlights, with me doing the commentary as if I'm on the sports channel in the round up of the soccer games, with the score appearing at the bottom of the screen after every goal.

When I reach the final clip, it's as if the sound is turned off.

The referee blows the whistle to start and a long pass from St. Croix's Tiny Jones sends John Hawler on his way toward the Wanderers' goal. Linh-Mai bars his way forward but he pushes her to the ground. Toby robs Hawler of the ball but their legs tangle and they fall. The referee runs into the goalmouth. The players are waiting for him to whistle. Meanwhile the ball trickles clear of Toby and Hawler, and St. Croix's Holt taps it into the net while the Wanderers' goalkeeper is distracted by the referee beside him. Now the whistle sounds and it's … it's … it's not for Hawler's foul on Linh-Mai, but for a goal. St. Croix has scored. And it's not just a goal, but also a yellow card
— a
caution
—
for Toby, for his tackle on Hawler. Quan is warning Hawler for the way he tackled Linh-Mai. And … I don't know what he said, but the referee has produced a red card which means Quan is off! The visitors are down to ten players in only the fifth minute of the game.

St. Croix Middle School 1 – Cemetery Road Wanderers 0

Brandon dribbles the ball across the goalmouth as Magic runs in a scissor movement. Brandon backheels the ball for Magic to collect and fire into the goal.

St. Croix Middle School 1 – Cemetery Road Wanderers 1

Dougan crashes heavily into Brandon from behind, knocking him to the ground. The Wanderers' assistant coach
—
the gentleman in the camouflage pants and yellow muscle shirt
—
is being restrained by the Wanderers' coach from running onto the field to confront Hawler about his dangerous tackle.

… Now Dougan is through the Wanderers' defence but Flyin' Brian dives to smother the ball. Dougan kicks it from his hands and prods it into the net.

The St. Croix coach pumps his fists in celebration, while the Wanderers' coach shouts something at the referee, who looks in his direction and … raises the yellow card. Now the Wanderers' coach will have to mind his behaviour or he'll be banned from the touchline.

St. Croix Middle School 2 – Cemetery Road Wanderers 1

Halfway through the second half the teams are at a stalemate. There's a disturbance at the side of the field. Three people, a tall gentleman and two ladies, one of them short and wearing a business suit, the other big and wearing a long, plain dress, are arguing with the league president. They seem
—
at least two of them seem
—
to be demanding that the Wanderers leave the field, but Mr. Finch is insisting the game continue.

Back to the play, where Hawler is running at the Wanderers' goal, pursued by Linh-Mai, who's half his size. She overtakes him … turns and prepares to tackle … Hawler closes in on her, towering above her, and … falls over. Linh-Mai didn't tackle Hawler, but he's on the ground, holding his leg in agony, and the referee has given a penalty! This time it's the Wanderers' assistant coach restraining the coach, who is shouting something at the referee … calling him a … I can't believe what he called him. I've never heard a referee called that before. I've never heard anyone called that before. The referee looks shocked
—
so do some of the adult spectators
—
and it's a red card for the Wanderers' coach. He'll have to spend the rest of the game well clear of the touchline. Hawler, who seems to have made a quick recovery, prepares to take the penalty. He shoots high to the right. Flyin' Brian launches himself across the goal and his finger tips, clawing desperately, turn the ball against the post. As he lands heavily, Hawler, following up, taps the ball into the net.

St. Croix Middle School 3 – Cemetery Road Wanderers 1

Shay, Julie and Magic move up the field, passing and overlapping one another as the opposing defenders challenge them. Jones smacks into Magic, leaving him sprawled on the ground. Julie loses her footing and falls as she is shoulder-charged by another defender. Shay keeps running. He rounds one defender, spins away from another, and, seeing the goalkeeper on the edge of his penalty box, chips the ball over him and into the net.

The crowd is silent.

St. Croix Middle School 3 – Cemetery Road Wanderers 2

The Wanderers are pressing for an equalizer. The St. Croix goalkeeper rolls the ball out to Tiny Jones, who shapes to pass left but finds Jillian in the way. He prepares to pass right, but Flip is there. He starts forward, but seeing Julie ahead, passes back to his goalkeeper. Julie speeds past him in a whirling mass of flying hair and pumping elbows. The goalkeeper dives for the ball, but the Wanderers' midfielder is too fast and pushes it under him into the net.

Not a sound from the spectators.

Wait
—
yes, there is.

One spectator, standing alone far back from the field, who arrived just in time to see the Wanderers score, is applauding. She's a tall, blonde lady, with big, round glasses …

St. Croix Middle School 3 – Cemetery Road Wanderers 3

With only seconds left and the teams still tied, the Wanderers keep pressing. The St. Croix goalkeeper clears from the melee of defenders and forwards jostling in his goalmouth. Shay traps it, looks quickly around … Gives some kind of signal … The St. Croix defenders swarm around the Wanderers … There's no room for anyone to move and no chance to score. But wait ... Linh-Mai, running from deep behind the attack, is drifting toward the St. Croix goal, unnoticed by the home defenders. Shay twists clear of two defenders and passes to her. Suddenly aware of the danger, Hawler turns on Linh-Mai with a roar. She pokes the ball past him, and past the goalkeeper. She reels back as Hawler thunders towards her. At the last moment Toby throws himself between them. Hawler bounces off him. The whistle sounds as the ball trickles into the goal.

The referee points to Toby; it's obstruction. No goal.

Mr. Finch strides onto the field. “Goal
—
and end of game!”

The St. Croix supporters watch in dejected silence.

The solitary Wanderers supporter, the tall blonde lady with the big round glasses, applauds and slips away.

St. Croix Middle School 3 – Cemetery Road Wanderers 4

14

As we hurried back to the van, each of us still yelling and high-fiving and just hoping not to be told the game didn't count, a voice called through the open driver's window of a car, “Shay. Wait, please.”

I stopped and looked around. Ms. Dugalici climbed from the car.

“Just a moment,” she hissed at the others. “I know you're anxious to leave. I'll only keep Shay for a few seconds.”

Ms. Dugalici folded her arms and leaned back against her car. “Miss Little's a good friend. I hope you appreciate her.”

I nodded. “We all like Miss Little.”

“She came to see me yesterday. She told me how you and your friends have broken all the rules in the Code of Conduct.”

“They're stupid rules. Mr. Justason isn't being fair.”

Ms. Dugalici held up a warning finger. “They're my rules, too.”

I sighed.

Ms. Dugalici went on, “However, I have a suggestion. First, if you break the rules, you must accept the consequences.”

“But —”

“Let me finish. Second, as captain — there are times when you must compromise.”

“How do you mean?”

“By following the rules …”

“But …”

“… While I suggest to Mr. Justason that he modify them and reinstate your soccer team at the start of next season. You will also be allowed to play on the Back Field. How would that be?”

“That would be … brilliant. Thank you.”

“Thank Miss Little for sticking up for you. Now — join your team, and tell them it's time to compromise.”

I hesitated. Ms. Dugalici spoke in her usual threatening whisper and wore her usual mysterious dark glasses. She seemed the same severe person she had been when I'd seen her before. But she was being kind and helpful. I felt like apologizing for misjudging her.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she demanded.

“I always thought you were scary.”

“I am scary. You'd better believe it,” she hissed sharply. Then she winked. “Now go.”

Everyone was in the van, ready to leave.

“What did Ms. Dugalici want?” said Julie.

As she spoke, I noticed Mr. Justason and Mrs. Stuart steaming towards us.

“Hit it, Grease,” I said urgently.

Mr. Finch called, “Congratulations on your win, although it won't count, and on being champions — for a little while, at least.”

I heard Mr. Justason bawl, “I'll see all of you first thing in the morning—!”

The rest of his speech was drowned out by the screech of the van's tires as Grease wheeled out of the car park. Mr. Justason and Mrs. Stuart glared after us.

It was dusk by the time Grease rolled the van to a stop by the cemetery. Everybody scrambled out.

Jillian said, “Guess we better hurry home and face the music. Mom's sure going to be mad.”

“Good luck,” I called, as they set off.

Linh-Mai said, “Mom thinks I'm playing at the Back Field. I'd better hurry over there to meet her.”

Brian said, “I'm meeting Dad on Main Street. Come on, Brandon. Dad will give you a ride home, too.”

Grease held his hand out to Brandon and said, “Bye, buddy.”

Brandon put his hand in Grease's and echoed, “B — … Buddy.”

As the Wanderers disappeared into the cemetery, Ice called after them, “Let's rock and roll again some time.”

Soon, only Toby, Julie and I were left with Ice and Grease. We sat on the low wall that bordered the cemetery.

On the way back to Brunswick Valley in the van, Brian had interrogated Ice about where he'd learned to play soccer, and how he knew Jordan Thorne, until finally Ice had told us he'd played for the Montreal Marvels and had been signed by the Eastern Canadian Cougars, only to give it all up.

“But why?” Brian had persisted.

“Because I was always being compared to my father, and I knew I'd never be as good as him.”

“Your father …” Brian's jaw had dropped. “You mean — is your father Dan Field? Wow! He's brilliant. Could you get his autograph for me?”

“See what I mean?” Ice had said bleakly before lapsing into silence.

Now I ventured carefully, “I don't care what you say about not being as good as your dad. You were a soccer star at the coaches competition, and I think you could be a soccer star with the Cougars.”

“I could be a good league player — but never a star,” said Ice.

“You're a star to us,” said Julie softly.

“I saw the photos of you in your Montreal Marvels uniform at your house,” I confessed.

“I suppose you saw the photos of my father, too.”

“Yes. Then I saw him on television, and I guessed he was your dad soon after that.”

“Your grandad was a soccer star, too, wasn't he? My dad used to talk about him.” Ice looked at me. “And you're real proud of him, and he's, like, an inspiration to you, and you're thinking my dad should be an inspiration to me, aren't you?”

“Something like that.”

Ice shrugged and shook his head. “It doesn't always work that way.”

“Was he disappointed when you gave up?”

“Was he ever. He hardly talked to me for a year. He still doesn't say much to me.”

“Even if you don't want to play, you could coach,” said Toby.

“You're a great coach,” Julie added.

“That's what Miss Little said.”

“When were you talking to Miss Little?” I asked.

“She was at the game. She recognized me from when I was in her kindergarten class at Brunswick Valley. She asked me if I'd help coach the soccer team when it started up again. She said she was sure you'd be playing next season.”

“That'd be great,” I said. “You might even start playing again.”

Ice shrugged. “Maybe.”

Grease had left the wall to tinker under the hood of the van. He slammed it shut and joined us beside the cemetery gate.

I said, “Thanks for driving us around, Grease. We owe you.”

Ice shook hands with Toby. “So long, Big T.”

He offered his hand to Julie, saying, “You take care, darling.”

She flew at him and hugged him. “You, too.”

He held his hand out to me. “Stay cool, Shay. Seek glory!”

“Thanks for being our coach,” I said.

“Thank you.”

“What for?”

“For bringing me back to soccer.”

We shook hands.

Ice said, “Let's go, Grease.”

“Where to?”

“Main Street Parallel, I guess.”

The van pulled away silently. “Cemetery Road Wanderers” was still painted on its sides.

We walked through the cemetery towards Main Street.

Julie said, “I don't know whether to wait for Mom to find out what happened or just go in and tell her myself.”

“Glory always has a price,” I said.

Just then Toby's stepdad pulled up beside us in his truck.

“I've been looking for you — ever since Mr. Justason called the house. Your ma's been worried.”

“We were playing soccer at the Back Field,” said Toby.

“No you weren't. For one thing — I checked there. And for another — you're suspended from playing soccer.”

“Oh — yes. I forgot,” said Toby. “We were …”

“Get in. Your ma's waiting — and she's not happy,” said Conrad. He added, to Julie and me, “Do you want a ride?”

“We'll walk, thanks, Con,” I said.

“You'd best get home fast. Your folks are waiting, too.”

When we reached Julie's house, her mom was standing at the door, her hands on her hips. As soon as she saw us she started, “You can get yourself in here mighty fast, young lady. You've got some explaining to do.”

I walked on in the dusk to my house. Through the front window, I could see Grandad in his armchair. I let myself quietly into the house — hoping he might be asleep. I peered in the dimly lit living room; Grandad didn't stir.

As I was about to creep upstairs, I heard, “Do you have something to say to me?”

I stood in the living room door. “I broke some rules at school, Grandad.”

“I know.”

“I got suspended from soccer.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And I lied to you.”

“I know that, too.”

“Sorry.”

I crossed the room and leaned over the back of Grandad's chair. The book of poems was open on his lap. Over his shoulder, I read, “Between the mud and the sun, there are battles we've won. Ere shade ends our story, let's fashion brief glory.”

“What rules did you break?” he asked.

“One about disruptive behaviour, one about wearing clothes that weren't suitable for school, one about keeping a good academic average, and another about inappropriate touching. Oh — and one about drugs.”

“You took
drugs?
”

“No. Well, yes. Not really — just a mouthful of beer. It tasted awful. And I took a puff on a cigarette. I was mad about the rules.”

“Were they good rules?”

“The rule about wearing clothes was an infringement of personal expression, and the rule about keeping an academic average of sixty-five isn't fair to students like Toby. He tries his best …”

“Anything else?”

“We broke the rule about touching when Julie
hugged
me, because she knew I was worried about you. The rule about drugs is fair — we only broke that rule because I wanted to break them all.”

“Why?”

“Because I was mad.”

“You're in serious trouble at school, you know.”

“Yes.”

“Mr. Justason says he holds you responsible for what happened because you're the captain and you led the team in breaking the rules and deceiving the league and misrepresenting the school. He wants to know who was pretending to be your coach.”

“I won't tell him.”

“Come round here where I can see you,” said Grandad.

I stood in front of him.

“So — because you thought these rules were an infringement of personal expression, and were unfair to struggling students, and stopped you having a little fun, you took it upon yourself to deliberately break them, and you led your friends to do the same.”

I hung my head. “Yes.”

“And although you knew right from the start that your protest was going to land your friends, as well as yourself, in serious trouble, and that whatever success your alternate soccer team enjoyed was going to be taken away from you by the league, you still led a kind of doomed rebellion.”

“Yes,” I whispered.

He stood slowly and put his hands on my shoulders.

“That's good,” he said. “I'm proud of you.”