The Walk On (36 page)

He started to say their conversation had to be off the record, then realized it didn’t matter. He took another deep breath and told her everything.

Her mouth was hanging open when he finished. “Are you
sure
you didn’t take
something
by accident?” she said. “Matt told me a lot of the guys take supplements.”

“Matt?” he said. “You talk to Matt a lot, don’t you?”

“Just sometimes,” she said, reddening suddenly. “He’s helped me—and Steve—out sometimes.”

That bothered Alex in a way he couldn’t completely put his finger on.

“So?” she said.

He snapped back from his thoughts about Matt and
Christine talking to one another. “No, there’s no way,” he said. “The guy said my level was so high that it had to be some kind of steroid.”

Christine took another sip of her Coke.

“Then there has to be some kind of mistake,” she said.

“But how?” he asked. “I mean, how can you make a mistake like that?”

“That’s the question we have to find the answer to.”

“And how do we do that?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I have no idea. This is a little bit over my head. Actually, a lot over my head.”

They sat in silence for a moment.

“I can ask my dad—”

“No!” Alex said. “You can’t tell your dad!”

Then he stopped. He kept forgetting that everyone would know by the next day anyway. “I’m sorry—you’re right. But you said he’s a news editor. Does he know about sports?”

“He’s friends with a lot of the guys in sports. But this isn’t a sports story anyway. This takes someone who knows how to be a real reporter.”

“You’re good,” he said, meaning it. “I trust you.”

“I’m good for a high school freshman doing it for the first time. I wouldn’t even know where to begin on a story like this.”

“Okay,” he said. “If you think your dad could help …” Alex felt lost—he wasn’t sure anyone could help.

“You should go home and tell your mom. I’ll talk to my dad and call you later.”

He had almost forgotten about telling his mom. He took
a long sip of his Coke and put it down. His stomach felt like it was going to explode. So did his head.

His mom was stunned, then confused, then angry. After asking him several times if there was
any
way he could be guilty, she stood up and said, “I’m calling your father. They can’t do this to you if you’re innocent.”

“Mom, I
am
innocent,” he said.

“I believe you,” she said. “Let me talk to your father.”

His mom came right back, saying Alex’s dad must be on a plane because his phone said he was “unavailable.”

“What a shock,” Alex said.

He expected his mom to defend his dad, but instead she just sighed and said, “Yeah, no kidding.”

She said she was going to make some calls and suggested he go upstairs and try to do some homework. Alex did, but it was a waste of time. He would start to read a phrase in French and then, ten minutes later, realize he was still staring at the same phrase, thinking about what it would be like at school when word got out about the test.

He shut the book and checked his phone for messages. Practice would be just ending. He expected to start hearing from people soon. Of course, some of them had to be drug-tested again first because it was Wednesday.

His phone vibrated as he was looking at it. He saw Christine’s number pop onto the screen.

“I talked to my dad,” she said.

“What did he say?”

“That there are ways to find out more about what happened.
I just wanted to let you know we’re working on it. I’ll call if I know more tonight. Or else I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah, okay. Thanks, Christine.”

He went to tell his mom the update and she was just getting off the phone with Coach Gordon. He had apparently suggested that Alex might want to stay home from school the next day, but she disagreed.

“You’re going to have to face it sooner or later. Might as well get it over with.”

He didn’t argue. He could barely think. And he figured she was probably right.

He went to bed without eating much dinner and without doing any studying. He wasn’t sure when he finally fell asleep, but he awoke before the sun was up in the middle of a dream in which Christine was marrying Matt. He lay back in bed and almost smiled. He wished that a dream like that was the worst of his problems. Sadly, it wasn’t even close.

The announcement would be made at noon. Alex had talked to Jonas and Stephen Harvey the night before but had sworn them to secrecy so he could at least get through the morning.

Alex had found Coach Brotman when he first got to school and asked him if there was any way he could eat lunch in the football offices. Coach Brotman had shaken his head.

“I’m really sorry, Alex,” he said. “The rules say you can’t be in the locker room, the offices, anywhere around the football team. You’re allowed inside the stadium at the game tomorrow and that’s about it.”

There was no way Alex was going to go to the game and sit in the stands with everyone staring at him.

He was sitting at his usual table in the cafeteria when Matt Gordon walked over and sat down. It was noon straight up and Alex knew that all hell was about to break loose in his life.

“I’m your new bodyguard, Goldie,” Matt said. “People are going to be coming over here demanding to know what happened in”—he looked at his watch—“about five minutes would be my guess. Just let me do the talking.”

Alex wasn’t too surprised that Matt knew.

Matt looked Alex in the eye. “You didn’t do it, right?”

“NO,” Alex said vehemently.

Before he could say anything else, Matt held up his hand. “That’s all I need.”

Matt’s prediction was off by one minute. At 12:04, Alex saw kids starting to stand up and show one another their phones. Then he saw them starting to look in his direction. And then, the stampede began.

Matt stood up to intercept people as they came to the table holding up their phones. Alex could hear a chorus of voices.…

“Is it true?” “What happened, Myers?” “Are you taking steroids?”

And on and on. Matt put up a hand and, in effect, made an announcement.

“A mistake has been made,” he said in a loud voice. “Goldie hasn’t done anything wrong. This will be fixed soon.”

Someone called out, “In time for tomorrow’s game?”

The confident look on Matt’s face disappeared. “We hope so,” he finally said. “Now, do me a favor and give my teammate some space.”

“But is he still your teammate?” another voice called out.

There were probably a hundred kids around the table. They had appeared that quickly, as if by magic.

Matt flared angrily at the question. “Of course he is,” he
said. “Someone messed up. My dad is working on finding out who and how right now.”

That was the first Alex had heard about that. He suspected it wasn’t true. But the crowd began to dissipate, for which he was grateful.

“Thanks,” he said as Matt sat down. “I really needed that.”

“And we need you, Goldie,” Matt said softly. “Anybody hassles you, just say you aren’t allowed to talk about it.” He got up to go. “Sorry—I have to go figure out how we can possibly win without you tomorrow.”

He wasn’t smiling even a little bit when he said it.

Alex followed Matt’s advice the rest of the day. As soon as anyone approached him, he put up a hand and said, “I’m not allowed to talk about it.”

That got him through French class. Christine played unofficial bodyguard for him from the classroom to the bike rack.

“What now?” he asked.

“I have a lot of phone calls to make,” she said. “My dad gave me a list.”

“Like who?”

She shook her head. “I need to get started while people are still at work. When I have something, I’ll call.”

He had turned off his phone, as required by school rules, once lunch was over. Now he turned it back on and gasped: he had 104 new text messages.

He had given his cell phone number to a few media members after his late-game heroics earlier in the season. Now
it appeared that every single media member in the state of Pennsylvania had his cell number.

There was one from someone named Stevie Thomas, who sounded familiar. Then he remembered: he was the teenage sports reporter who had broken a bunch of big stories at major events along with his partner, Susan Carol Anderson.

The first few words on the screen said,
You’re not the only one
. Curious, Alex opened it and read the rest of the message, which said,
There were eleven positive tests in all among the eight teams, six from guys on teams still playing. Two from Allen town North—both on the O-line. If you want to talk or need help with this, call me
.…

Alex showed the text to Christine.

“I’ve met him a couple of times through my dad,” she said. “He’s doing work for the
Daily News
. He seems like a good guy.

“It figures there would be more than one failed test. I wonder if anyone else who tested positive is innocent.”

She got on her bike. “I’ll add Stevie to my call list and see if he has any ideas.”

Alex was tempted to stop at McDonald’s on the way home but realized it would be packed with kids from school. His mom and Molly weren’t home when he arrived, so he found some bread and salami and made himself a sandwich.

His phone kept buzzing while he ate. Each time he picked it up, he saw a number he didn’t recognize and ignored it. Finally, just as he was finishing, he saw Christine’s number and grabbed the phone.

“I may have something,” she said.

“Really?” he asked, surprised.

“Yes. What’s your blood type?”

“No idea,” he said.

“Ask your mom,” she said. “And make sure she tells you if you’re positive or negative. I’ll meet you at your house, okay?”

Alex’s blood type was O-positive, according to his mom, who naturally wanted to know why he was asking. He told her he wasn’t sure yet, but that Christine seemed excited.

When he opened the door to Christine fifteen minutes later, she was already talking.

“Did you find out your blood type?”