Top Wing (5 page)

“I’m just glad Dad’s getting better,” he said.

Mrs. Bellamy pulled him over. She wrapped her arms around him and rubbed her chin on top of his head. “I’ll tell you a little
secret,” she said. “The doctor told me there’s no reason why Dad couldn’t be home and back to work in just a few weeks. Isn’t
that great?”

“Terrific!” he said, and meant it. “You know what? My call to Steve can wait. I think I’ll hit the hay early tonight. See
you in the morning.”

“Ask for a vowel!” came the sound of Christy’s voice in the living room.

Dana felt Mrs. Bellamy watch him head up to his
room. He knew she wasn’t convinced he had told her everything that was on his mind.

But suddenly Dana felt even more relieved about his father than he had realized. He got into bed, thinking that he’d talk
to Steve first thing in the morning.

In less than a minute, he was sound asleep.

The next day was a Saturday.

“You lose, sleepyhead. I got the last of the good cereal,” said Christy. She stirred her bowl of Sugar-O’s around and around.

Dana smiled at her through a mouthful of cornflakes. He felt too good this morning to care about unimportant things like that.

As soon as I finish up breakfast, he thought, I’ll give Steve a call and get this whole mess with Ben-ton cleared up once
and for all.

The ringing of the telephone interrupted his thoughts.

“For you, Dana,” Christy said. She handed him the cordless telephone.

Dana wiped his mouth. “Hello?” he said.

“Hey, Dana,” came the reply. It was Steve. “What
are you up to? Got some time to practice some kick shots?”

“I can’t believe it. I was just thinking about you, Steve,” said Dana. “Hang on a sec.” He turned to his mother and asked,
“Do you have any errands, Mom?”

“No.”

“What about the hospital? When are we going to see Dad?”

“After lunch,” she said.

“Meet you at the field?” he asked Steve.

“See you there.”

“How soon?”

“Ten minutes?”

“Bet you ten extra kicks I get there before you,” said Dana.

“Deal!”

Dana got dressed in a flash. He grabbed his soccer ball from the front hall closet and was off and running.

Still, as he rounded the corner to the field, he saw Steve. The Anchors’ captain was dribbling around the goalpost making
believe it was a defenseman.

“Okay, you win,” Dana said. He tossed his ball
toward Steve. “You can have five now and five later. But first I want to ask you something.”

“Okay,” said Steve.

“Remember the day Benton’s house burned down?”

“Uh-huh.”

“That was the day you were elected captain, right?”

“Right,” Steve agreed.

“And we talked about it on the way home,” Dana continued.

“After practice,” said Steve.

“Do you remember Benton saying something about his folks going out that night?”

“Sure, they were going to a wedding. That’s where they were when the house caught on fire,” said Steve.

“I know,” said Dana. “But did Benton ask me to do anything?”

“Like what?” asked Steve. “He just said his parents were going to the wedding — that’s all.”

“He didn’t ask me to tell my folks about it?”

“No,” said Steve. “And I remember, too, ’cause I didn’t know that they let him look after his kid sister when they went out.
My folks still don’t even like to leave me alone.”

“Mine, too,” said Dana. “They ask the Crawfords to keep an eye on us. And my folks do the same, when they’re asked. I guess
they just forgot to ask that time.”

“Hey, are we here to practice, or what?” asked Steve.

He got into position while Dana ran over to the goal area.

They practiced for about a half hour. Then Steve suggested they take a break. The morning sun had been beating down on them,
and they had worked up a good sweat.

They flopped down on the grass under a nearby maple tree.

“You have to remember to plant your left foot,” said Steve. “You’re rushing it and not getting into position.”

“I’m just glad to have a load off my mind,” said Dana.

“What? About Benton?”

Dana nodded. He told Steve about what Benton had said after the Cottoneers game.

“No way,” said Steve. “I know what I heard. Hey, that must have been why he wasn’t clicking with you during the game!”

“Wasn’t clicking? Hey, it was like I was invisible!”

“Dana Bellamy, the great invisible right wing for the Anchors!” Steve laughed and threw the ball at Dana.

“Hey, guys!”

The high-pitched voice came from the side of the field.

Dana and Steve turned in that direction and saw a redheaded girl on a ten-speed bike. In the handle-bar basket was a familiar
video camera.

“Hey, Andrea,” said Dana. “What are you doing here? Want to kick a few?”

She laughed. “Hardly!”

“She’s probably going to make a movie about us,” Steve suggested. “The town’s own roving reporter is out to capture the two
Anchors’ rivals for top scorer as they secretly plot to share the crown!”

“I don’t think this is going to make the six o’clock news,” said Andrea. She flopped down on the grass next to them. “So you
two guys are fighting it out for top scorer, huh?”

Dana knew Steve didn’t really care who scored the most goals — as long as the team won.

“Nah, Steve’s the best,” said Dana.

“Dana’s the natural,” Steve insisted. “My job is to see to it that he gets a clear shot at the goal whenever possible.”

“That’s why he’s the captain,” said Dana.

“Yeah, I heard you were elected,” said Andrea. “Unanimous decision, right?”

“Well, everyone voted for him in the end,” said Dana. “I don’t think Abe Strom was all that happy about it.”

“Oh, I don’t think he cared that much,” said Steve.

“Oh, yeah?” said Dana. “I didn’t see him passing the ball and setting you up much.”

“Can’t tell about these things, guys,” Andrea said. “Maybe he still has a little chip on his shoulder.”

“Think so?” Steve asked.

“Could be,” said Dana. “Just like Benton.”

“What about Benton?” Andrea asked.

Dana told her what happened in the Cottoneers game and afterward.

“Sounds to me like you guys have a lot of work to do,” she said. “Not just practicing. You’d better get those guys to act
like they’re on a team or the Anchors are never going to win a game.”

D
ana had decided to clear the air with Benton before the next game. But his onetime pal and neighbor avoided him as if he had
the plague. Even in homeroom, Benton kept away from him. Whenever Dana tried to speak with him, Benton either ran off or got
into a conversation with another kid.

It was the same during the practice. Benton only passed the ball to him when absolutely necessary. Dana knew he had to get
that chip off of Benton’s shoulder — and soon, or else the team as well as their friendship would be in trouble.

But he just couldn’t corner Benton between classes, and he was nowhere to be found during lunch. By the time the game with
the Grizzlies rolled around, Dana was finding it hard to believe that he and Benton had ever been friends at all.

The game with the Grizzlies was scheduled for four o’clock. Dana got there early and made sure Steve was nearby to back him
up just in case Benton continued to accuse him of forgetfulness.

But Benton didn’t show up until just before the game began.

“Move it, Crawford,” called Coach Kingsley. “I was almost ready to put someone else into your slot.”

The Anchors and the Grizzlies settled into their positions, and the game began.

The brown-and-green uniformed Grizzlies were in third place in the league, only a few games behind the leader. But their standing
didn’t tell the whole story. They had lost most of their games by only one goal. There was no doubt they were a dangerous
opponent.

Less than five minutes had gone by when the first goal was scored — by the Grizzlies. Their star right wing, Buzz Saw Wallace,
had drilled a kick past Jazz’s outstretched arms.

The first mark went up on the scoreboard: Grizzlies 1, Anchors 0.

“Come on, you guys! Let’s wake up!” Steve yelled.

The two teams positioned themselves at opposite
sides of the center line. Dana took a good look at Buzz Saw. He deserved his nickname. He was short and chunky, but he could
cut through the defense like a power-driven blade.

When the starting whistle blew, Steve tapped the ball to Dana. Dana booted it to Jack Nguyen, who stopped it with his hip
and took control. He dribbled toward the Grizzlies’ goal. As he worked his way down the field, the Grizzlies’ defense closed
in on him. Waiting for him at the goal line, the Grizzlies’ goalie, Noonie Mills, crouched like a big brown bear guarding
his cave.

Dana ran toward Jack from the right. Slightly behind him he could see Benton coming up the field. Suddenly a Grizzlies tackler
swooped down on Jack and tried to get the ball. But Jack managed to shake loose enough to pass it to Benton.

Benton trapped it with his right foot and dribbled it steadily toward the goal. Dana was surprised to hear him hacking and
coughing as he gained ground. It sounded like he had a miserable cold.

Before Benton could get in position to try a goal kick, he was surrounded. A bunch of Grizzlies ganged up on him from his
rear and his left.

On his right side, Dana was in the clear.

“Bent! Over here!” Dana called softly — just loud enough for Benton to hear.

Benton glanced at him briefly. For a second, it seemed as though he would pass the ball to the open wing.

But he didn’t. Instead, he wriggled free enough to boot the ball toward the goal. He was in no position to make it good. There
wasn’t even much of a chance that the ball would make it all the way to the goal area.

Benton should have seen that, Dana thought. He just doesn’t want me to have a shot. The anger rose up in him like lava in
a volcano.

Noonie Mills caught the ball easily and tossed it over to a Grizzlies fullback. The action now moved down toward the Anchors’
goal.

Reversing direction, Dana ran after Benton.

“You bug me, you know that?” Dana shouted at him. “You have it in for me for no good reason!”

“You messed up! You should have —,” Benton began. Before he could finish, a coughing spell cut him off.

“You’re a real blockhead, Benton!” Dana shouted
back. “You don’t even know what you’re talking about!”

“Knock it off!” Steve’s loud voice boomed. “Knock it off, or I’ll ask the coach to bench the two of you!”

Dana saw the stern look on Steve’s face. He knew he meant every word of it. Friend or not, the Anchor captain didn’t make
idle threats, not when the game was at stake.

Dana tried to put his mind back on the game. He had his eye on a fight for the ball between Lance and a Grizzlies tackler
when Abe sidled up next to him.

“What are you yelling about? Someone else got a shot for a change?” he said, sneering at Dana.

Then he ran off to his own side of the field.

Dana was shocked.

What was going on? Had Benton told everyone on the team that he was responsible for the fire? Was the whole team on his case?

What was that going to do to their chance of winning this game — or any game, for that matter?

Even if only some of the guys got all hung up, they’d mess up the whole team. The Grizzlies could score a dozen goals they
didn’t deserve, just because the Anchors were all bent out of shape.

He had to straighten Benton out. But first there was a game to play.

Down at the other end of the field, Mike, Tucker, and Pete were fighting for the ball with two Grizzlies forwards. From between
their legs, the ball squirted out and bounced onto the open field.

Jonathan Bell, the Grizzlies’ right halfback, sprinted after it. He gave it a kick that sent it rocketing toward the right
side of the goal.

Jazz made a flying leap for it. He was within inches when the ball sizzled by and into the net for another Grizzlies score.

Dana’s heart sank. Midway through the first half and the Anchors were in deep trouble.

Things didn’t change much during the remainder of the half. The two teams seemed to shuffle back and forth, with both defenses
digging in. There was a lot of motion, a few penalties, and a couple of goal attempts. But there was no scoring. When the
half ended, the scoreboard still read Grizzlies 2, Anchors 0.

During the halftime break, Coach Kingsley tried to pump some spirit into the Anchors.

“What’s with you guys today?” he asked. “I know
you’re capable of much more! You look like you’re playing with blinders on!”

There was a lot of foot scuffling. Most of the players stared down at their cleats.

“Some of you haven’t noticed that that’s a soccer field you’re playing on, not a bowling alley. You’re not out there on your
own. So start looking around and pass the ball. Got that?”

“Right, Coach!”

“Got it!”

No one could disagree. They just weren’t playing like a team.

The coach gazed around, then settled his eyes on some of the players near the back of the huddle.

After a few awkward moments, he cleared his throat and laid out a plan of attack.

“Now, listen, and listen good,” the coach said firmly. “We’ve had a half dozen chances of shooting for a goal, but you blew
it every time. I know there isn’t time to set up a lot of fancy plays, but you have to have some discipline. Remember, when
you’re bringing the ball downfield, stay in your positions and try to get the ball to one of the wings. One or the other,
not always the same one. And wings, you find
a way to get yourself into position to kick. Keep the ball moving — just keep it moving. Everybody got the picture?”

“Got it!” they all shouted again.

“Okay, then — get out there and show me some teamwork!”

Dana didn’t know whether the coach was getting through to Benton, or to Abe, or to anyone else. He would just have to wait
and see.