The Walk On (29 page)

The extra point sailed through to tie the game. The clock
read 00:00. The teams started for the locker rooms with the Bryn Mawr crowd going nuts. Coach Gordon put a hand on Alex’s shoulder—not gently.

“If both Matt and Jake get hurt in the second half, you’re not going in,” he said, not raising his voice but with razors in it. “You understand?”

“Yes sir.”

“And Coach Brotman will meet you at school at six o’clock tomorrow morning. Once was okay, especially because you were right. Twice is unacceptable. I’m still the coach.”

Alex had his head down.

“Do you understand me, Myers?”

“Yes sir.”

The worst part of it, Alex thought as he followed his teammates to the locker room, was that poor Coach Brotman had to wake up at five o’clock on a Saturday morning. He hadn’t done anything to deserve that.

Alex had.

Matt Gordon took control of the game in the second half, leading two long drives and one short one that was set up by a Gerry Detwiler interception. The two captains got the game balls after the 35–21 victory and they were both deserved.

Alex felt no joy in victory. Matt and Jake both told him it was okay, that this too would pass, but it didn’t feel that way. When he came out of the locker room, Steve Garland was waiting for him. He could see Christine talking to Detwiler.

“Did you get benched in the second half?” Garland asked him.

“If I did, I deserved it after the interception,” Alex said, not mentioning that he had changed the play. “It was a dumb play on my part.”

“Aren’t you being a little hard on yourself?” Garland asked.

“Probably not hard enough,” Alex said, excusing himself because he saw his mom and Molly standing nearby. They had driven to the game even though it was away from home.

Although his mom didn’t really get football, she knew enough to know that Alex had messed up. He had told her—and his dad, on the phone—about the new plan for him to play a series or two each half.

“You okay?” she asked.

“I’m fine. Can we go home, please?”

She nodded. Even Molly looked sad. “No party tonight?” his mom asked. “You did win the game.…”

Alex had the usual array of Friday-night party invites on his phone.

“Mom, I have to be at school at six o’clock tomorrow morning,” he said.

“Why?” she asked.

“I’ll tell you in the car.”

When he explained, she was silent for a moment.

“Is he wrong to be angry?” she asked finally. “I don’t really understand.”

“He’s completely right,” he said. “I got cocky and I paid for it.”

He looked at his watch. It was almost eleven o’clock. He’d have about six hours to sleep.

Coach Brotman was waiting for him when he pulled up on his bicycle the next morning.

“Coach said five trips up and down,” he said. “If you go hard, you can stop after four.”

“Is that from you or Coach Gordon?” Alex asked.

“From me. You messed up, Alex, and I think you know it. The important thing isn’t that you be punished but that you understand what you did wrong.”

“I do understand,” Alex said. “I got carried away with myself.”

“You get it, then,” Coach Brotman said. “By the way, you aren’t the first freshman to get a little bit of a big head.”

Alex worked the steps hard. The sun wasn’t up yet since it was mid-October and almost time to set the clocks back. It was cool, very cool, and as he ran, he could see his breath. The workout actually felt good.

“Okay, Alex, that’s enough,” Coach Brotman said after his fourth trip up and down the thirty-five rows of steps. “Locker room’s open. Go take a shower and get some rest. I’m going home.”

“Thanks, Coach. I’m sorry you had to get up early because of me.”

Coach Brotman waved him off. “I’ve got a fourteen-month-old,” he said. “I’m usually up by now anyway.”

He tossed Alex a towel and walked in the direction of his car.

Alex took a long shower, actually reveling in having the shower room to himself. Some of Mr. O’s guys were in early cleaning uniforms, but the locker room was otherwise empty.

The sun was just starting to come up when he pushed the locker room door open. He was glancing east, enjoying the sight of the rising sun, when he heard a voice say, “I’ll bet you could use some breakfast.”

He turned and saw Christine Whitford standing there. He smiled.

“You know, for some reason, I’m not surprised you’re here.”

“I heard what happened.”

“Of course you did.”

She smiled. “What does that mean?”

“It means you know more about what happens on this team than most of the players.”

She was still smiling the mesmerizing smile.

“Isn’t that what a reporter is supposed to do?”

She was wearing blue jeans and a blue-and-white Villanova sweatshirt. The sun was starting to warm the morning air, but it was still cool.

“I don’t know what a reporter is supposed to do,” he said. “I’m not a reporter.”

“I know,” she said. “You’re a football player.” She paused for a second before adding, “With a pretty good French accent.”

That made him laugh. “You didn’t get up this early and come down here to compliment my accent.”

“No, I didn’t. In fact, my story for Wednesday is about Craig Josephs and Gerry Detwiler and their chances to make all-state.”

“Should be pretty good. We’re seven and oh and Gerry
makes big plays in every game. Craig’s already rushed for almost a thousand yards.

“Nine hundred seventy-nine,” she said.

“Sorry, Hermione,” he said. “I should have known you’d have the exact number.”

“Hermione?”

“Harry Potter?”

He thought she blushed for a split second. “Are you saying I’m a know-it-all or that I look like Emma Watson?”

“Both.”

“Hmm. Come on, let’s go to breakfast.”

“Where? Why?”

“Pat and Steve’s. We should talk.”

“I’ve never heard of Pat and Steve’s.”

“Just get on your bike and follow me.”

He was tempted to ask her what she wanted to talk about, but he knew he wasn’t going to turn her down, so he just shrugged and followed her to the bike rack.

Christine was aware—naturally—of what he had said to Steve Garland about the interception after the game. In fact, she had his quotes written down word for word in a notebook she took out once they were seated.

Pat and Steve’s looked like something out of the old TV show
Murder, She Wrote
, which Alex had grown up watching in reruns with his grandmother. She never called the show by its actual name. She would simply stand up at the end of Sunday dinner and say, “Time to watch Jessica”—Jessica Fletcher being the name of the woman who solved murder mysteries every week on the show.

The restaurant had a counter just inside the door, tables in the middle of the room, and booths lining the wall that looked out on a grove of trees, making it feel a lot more like Cabot Cove, Maine, than Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Alex
was certain that Angela Lansbury, the star of the show, was going to walk through the door at any moment.

Alex had realized on the bike ride over that he was starving. He ordered French toast, bacon, and orange juice. Christine asked for an omelet and tomato juice.

As usual, she came right to the point. “So did you get benched in the second half last night?”

“Very subtle first question. I read
All the President’s Men
this summer.…”

“I read it in seventh grade.”

“Yes, Hermione, I’m sure you did.”

“Actually, my dad insisted I read it.”

“Why?”

“He’s an editor at the
Daily News
and that was the book that inspired him to become a journalist. It is pretty inspiring, didn’t you think? Two reporters actually changed the world.…”

“So it
is
in your blood. I should have guessed.”

She didn’t answer, just smiled. He plowed on.

“Anyway, one of the things I noticed in the book was that Woodward and Bernstein never started with the hard questions. They started with the easy ones.”

“How’s your orange juice?” she said, grinning.

“If I did get benched, I deserved it,” he said, figuring he’d made his point.

“Why?” she asked. “Everyone makes a bad throw now and then.”

“Are you going to quote me on this?”

“Depends on what you say.”

He shook his head.

“Not good enough. You can’t quote me because if Coach wants to tell you or anyone he benched me, he can. But it’s not my place to do it.”

She sighed. “Fine. I won’t quote you.”

“I didn’t get benched for throwing the interception. I got benched for changing the play in the huddle.” He stopped for a second. “Actually, I’m surprised you didn’t know that. You know everything else.”

She took a sip of her tomato juice.

“No one told me that,” she said. “I’m guessing they thought it was up to you whether you wanted to tell someone that.”

He had to admit he would not have told anyone other than Christine that. He just couldn’t seem to keep his mouth shut when talking to her. Then again, he doubted any of his teammates would blame him. It was pretty apparent that he and Jake weren’t the only ones who talked to her. Matt had been the one who told her about Jake faking his knee injury.

“Do you think you’ll play against Lincoln next week?”

“I have no idea. I’m hoping running steps this morning was the end of it. I’ll probably be able to tell Monday at practice.”

“The worst part of this is that you gave Coach Gordon an excuse not to play you,” she said.

“He doesn’t need an excuse not to play me. Matt’s the starter.”

“You’re better than Matt.”

He shook his head as their food arrived and waited as the waitress put the plates down, asked them if they needed anything
else, and then moved away. He wondered if Christine had said that as a ploy to get him to talk more or if she really meant it.

“
No
, I’m not,” he said. “Look, you’re about the smartest person I know, but you do
not
understand football. Not only is Matt a really good quarterback—different than I am, but really good—he is the leader of our team. That’s very, very important.”

“You led the team back in the King of Prussia game.”

“One game, and KOP had never seen me before.”

She took a bite of her omelet and pointed her fork at him for a moment.

“You’re wrong,” she said. “I
do
know football. And when you get to the playoffs
—if
you beat Chester and get there—you’re going to need a quarterback who can throw. That’s
you
, not Matt.”

Alex focused on his French toast for a while. Then, without really thinking it through, he blurted, “Will you go to the holiday dance with me?”

She looked surprised for a split second and then smiled.

“Maybe,” she said.

“Maybe?” he said, stunned because that was the
only
answer he hadn’t considered as a possibility. “Are you waiting for Jake to ask you?”

“No,” she said firmly. “I think Jake’s a good guy, but he’s always mad at me for not being on Coach Gordon’s bandwagon.” She paused. “And for saying you’re better than Matt.”