Top Wing (7 page)

“Sounds pretty weak to me,” said Dana.

“As far as I know, the insurance company hasn’t finished its investigation,” Mrs. Bellamy went on. “No one can be sure how
the fire started.”

“I’m just telling you what Benton said,” Dana insisted. Then something occurred to him. “Maybe he told the guys on the team!
That could be why Abe and Lance are ganging up on me.”

“I’ll give Grace a call,” said Mrs. Bellamy. “Meanwhile, let’s not make things worse by jumping to any conclusions like that,
Dana. And don’t say anything about this to your father. We don’t want to worry him while he’s getting better. He’d have a
fit!”

When they arrived at Mr. Bellamy’s room, they found him sitting up. He was sipping ginger ale through a bent straw. Both of
his hands were free. There wasn’t a single tube sticking into him.

“Way to go, Dad,” said Dana cheerfully. “You ought to be leaving here pretty soon, right?”

“Not as soon as I’d like,” said Mr. Bellamy. “Doc Higgins said they have to monitor my breathing for
a few more days. They want to make sure there are no glitches … or whatever he called it.”

“Last thing you want is a case of glitches,” said Mrs. Bellamy, smiling at him.

“Right, Dad,” said Christy. “They’re almost as bad as the itches.”

“Or even worse, the twitches,” suggested Dana.

“Or the snitches,” said Christy.

“The britches,” offered Dana.

“The kritches!” shouted Christy.

Mr. Bellamy pinched his nose and grunted,
Braaaaack!
No such word. You lose. By the way, how did your game go, Dana?”

“
Lose
is the right word,” Dana admitted. “We lost, four to two. But, well, I scored both goals.”

“Both goals? Wow, you must be right up there with Steve Rapids.”

“Yeah, I guess we’re tied now,” said Dana. “Funny, I haven’t even thought about that.”

“Good,” said Mr. Bellamy. “It’s more important to concentrate on teamwork. I’m still proud of you. Come on over here,” he
beckoned.

Mr. Bellamy raised one arm and slowly extended his open palm.

Dana caught the signal. He went over to the bed and gave his father a gentle high five.

Mrs. Phillips marched into the room waving a thermometer. “I think that’s enough excitement in this room for today,” she declared.
“Besides, it’s almost time for our snack.”

“Hot fudge sundae with marshmallow and chopped walnuts?” asked Mr. Bellamy with a twinkle in his eye.

“Cranberry juice and a vanilla cookie,” she said.

Mr. Bellamy groaned.

As Dana, his mom, and Christy piled into the car in the hospital parking lot a few minutes later, Dana said, “If Dad knew
what the Crawfords are saying, he would —”

“Let me worry about that,” said Mrs. Bellamy. “I’ll talk to Grace Crawford and see if we can clear that up.”

Dana strapped on his seat belt. He wasn’t sure that would be enough. He had to find a way to clear his father’s name and shut
Benton up once and for all.

It was barely daylight when Dana got out of bed the next morning. He dressed quietly, then tiptoed downstairs. As he opened
the hall closet to get his jacket, he noticed that the kitchen light was on.

The closet door squeaked as he pushed it shut.

“Dana? Christy? Who’s up so early?” came a voice from the kitchen.

Dana found his mother seated at the round oak kitchen table. She held a steaming cup of coffee in her hand.

“Aren’t you the early bird!” she said.

“I … uh … just wanted to get outside and … uh … have a look around,” he mumbled. “Did you call Mrs. Crawford?”

“I called last night. Got an answering machine,” Mrs. Bellamy said. “I left a message, but I haven’t heard from her yet.”

“Figures,” said Dana.

“That’s not nice, Dana,” she said. “And what do you mean ‘have a look around’?”

“Mmmmmm, you know. See what I can find out.”

“Dana, I don’t want you going near the Crawford house. It’s dangerous. Just keep away. The insurance
company will find out how the fire started. That will clear everything up.”

“But —,” Dana started to protest.

“No
buts
about it,” she said firmly. “Now, just put away your jacket and come sit down. I’ll make your favorite breakfast — buttermilk
pancakes.”

He knew she wouldn’t change her mind, so he did as she said. But he was sure the pancakes would stick in his throat.

The situation at school was pretty much the same as on the field. Benton avoided him. Abe and Lance weren’t as obvious, but
he could still feel a chill around them.

Never mind, he thought, I have other things on my mind — like this geography test staring me in the face.

There were a lot of blank spaces on his paper when the bell rang at the end of class.

When he turned in the test, Ms. Thompson, the geography teacher, looked it over quickly.

“Dana Bellamy!” she called just before he got out the door.

She looked him straight in the eye. “You haven’t
answered even half the questions. Your work has gone downhill in the last few days. Is there something wrong?”

How could he tell her what was bothering him? Was he going to say, “Benton’s mad at me,” like a two-year-old? Or “Benton’s
telling lies about my father,” like a four-year-old? No, he had to handle this on his own.

“I’ve had a lot on my mind” was all he could admit.

Ms. Thompson sighed. “Yes, I know about your father being in the hospital. But it’s not going to help him to hear that you’re
failing in school, Dana. How is he progressing, by the way?”

“He’s a lot better,” said Dana. “We expect him home any time now.”

“Good,” said Ms. Thompson. “Then we can expect your work to start improving. We’ll give it a few days and then talk about
a makeup test.”

“Thanks a lot, Ms. Thompson,” said Dana, making his exit.

Instead of eating lunch in the school cafeteria, he took his sandwich and carton of milk outside. He settled down in a quiet
spot, mostly surrounded by
trees and bushes, to study for his afternoon classes. He had to do better on his schoolwork.

Staring off into space, he tried to memorize some dates for history class. His eyes drifted to a corner of the school yard
near the equipment shed. About half a dozen kids were hanging out there, trying to shelter one another.

They were smoking. This was strictly against school policy, but some kids did it anyway. If anyone came near them, they threw
the evidence into the nearby Dumpster.

Dana caught a distant shout that sounded like “Hey, Bent!”

He gazed across the field and saw Benton ambling toward the shed.

When he got within twenty yards of the shed, Benton glanced back at the school building. For a split second, Dana thought
Benton was looking right at him. But Benton turned away sharply and reversed direction. Putting on some speed, he jogged over
to the side entrance of the school and disappeared.

What was that all about? Dana wondered. Then the bell rang and, with a sigh, he closed his notebook and headed into the building.

At the end of soccer practice that afternoon, Coach Kingsley had the team sit down in one long row on the bench. Then he walked
up and down in front of them. He told them he was unhappy about the way they had been playing their games.

“If you have problems off the field, leave them there,” he said. “This is a game of teamwork. You have to be looking around
all the time to help out the rest of the team. And the rest of the team has to help you out. That goes for each and every
one of you: wings, backs, goalie — the whole lot.

“Now, we have a game with the Rams coming up on Thursday. When you show up for the game, show up to play on a
team
. If you can’t do that, don’t show up!”

Dana caught the coach looking at him and Benton with more than the usual eye contact. Coach knows there’s something going
on, he said to himself. Does he know what Benton’s been saying? Does he think the fire’s my fault — or my dad’s?

But there was no sign that Coach Kingsley had anything on his mind except getting the Anchors to playing winning soccer.

T
he game with the Norristown Rams was about to start.

Coach Kingsley gave the Anchors a few final words of advice.

“We bungled our last two games,” he reminded them, “because we forgot we’re a team. Let’s not bungle this one! Forwards, set
yourselves up to score. Halfbacks, set up the forwards. Fullbacks, you have to be the solid wall of defense.

“You’re not going to win this game with a lot of fancy plays. But you have to keep your eyes open and take advantage of your
opportunities. Move the ball around and play as a team!”

“Team! Team! Anchors!” they all shouted, slapping high fives and tens all around.

The coin was flipped. This time, Steve made the call.

“Tails!” he shouted.

Tails it was. The Anchors chose to kick. The Rams elected to defend the north goal.

At the whistle, Steve kicked the ball to Jack. Jack aimed a kick right back at him, but booted it too hard. It landed midway
into Rams territory before it touched down. Play was underway.

Louie Ladd, the Rams’ center halfback, took it almost to the midfield stripe. Lance moved in on him and blocked him from gaining
any more ground.

They struggled for the ball before it squirted loose to the left side of the field. Abe was in position and snagged it. He
started to move it toward the goal, then quickly passed it to Steve.

The Anchors’ captain didn’t have an open shot at the goal, so he passed it over to Benton.

Benton moved the ball a few feet before a Rams tackler blocked his way.

Dana saw the tackler starting to breathe down on Benton. He broke away from his own blocker and worked his way over in Benton’s
direction.
He wondered whether Benton would give him the ball.

He soon found out.

Benton held out until he saw an opening behind him. He twisted around and just got off a little flick pass to Jack.

But Jack wasn’t really in the clear. He had to struggle with a Ram tackler for the ball. The two of them were tangling legs
when suddenly the whistle blew.

Tweeeet!

The referee turned toward Jack. The call was “Holding!”

From where Dana stood, there was no doubt about it. Jack had grabbed the Ram’s arm and tried to shove him away.

The ref placed the ball on the ground where the penalty was called. The Anchors and the Rams backed away the regulation ten
yards.

The Ram’s kick was bad. The ball slanted toward Steve. He caught it between his ankles, then started moving it toward the
goal again.

As the rest of the Anchors’ offense started running in that direction, Dana caught Benton’s eye.
The right halfback just shrugged, with an innocent look on his face. Dana shook his head. Some people never learn, he thought.
The coach might as well have talked to a wall.

By now the play had shifted back to Anchors territory. The Rams had taken the ball away before the Anchors could even get
close to the goal.

Louie Ladd was threatening. He took a pass from the Rams’ left wing and turned toward the goal. There was no one near him.
He drew back, ran forward, planted his left foot, and kicked with his right.

The kick was a beauty — about four feet off the ground and angled straight toward the goal.

But once again, Jazz came through. He trapped the kick with his chest and picked up the ball in the goal area. Then he booted
it solidly downfield. The long, high kick took the ball some ten yards from the center line, just to the edge of the circle.

Players from both teams raced after it. Dana halfheartedly approached the crowd scrambling for the loose ball.

Jack Nguyen shook it loose. His toe got under the ball as he passed it over to Steve. The ball rose in the air, and Steve
stopped it with his head.

Luckily he was facing the right direction. The ball went careening into Rams territory.

Dana bolted after it, trapped the ball, then dribbled it a couple of yards.

Heads up, he thought. He looked around. There was Benton, running parallel with him on his left side. He was looking for the
pass.