Top Wing (8 page)

For one moment, Dana wanted to treat Benton the same way everyone had treated
him
. You’ve ignored me, he thought — now I can do the same to you. But in the blink of an eye, he realized he’d be acting as
dumb as everyone else. He’d be no better than Benton — and he’d be letting the coach and the team down. We have to play as
a team, no matter what, he said to himself.

He flicked the ball over to Benton, who trapped it with the inside of his left foot. Without looking at Dana, he started moving
it downfield, toward the goal.

Was he surprised that I passed it to him? Dana wondered. Who knows?

Two Ram tacklers now converged on Benton. He aimed a kick toward a cluster of Anchors down near the goal, but the ball never
made it that far. It ricocheted
off the leg of one of his tacklers and bounced back upfield.

Once again, the play shifted direction. As he ran upfield, Dana was surprised to hear Benton hacking and coughing up ahead
of him. Is he still suffering from smoke he breathed in during the fire? Dana wondered. Maybe it did some serious damage to
his lungs, after all. But Dad inhaled a lot more smoke. Look how much better he is now. …

He couldn’t think about that any longer. The ball was loose in his general area of the field, just beyond the midfield line
in Rams territory.

Dana got to it in time to trap it with the inside of his right foot. He kept it under control until he saw an opening. Here
was his chance to set up a goal.

Eye on the ball, he booted a long pass downfield toward Lance. The Anchors’ left halfback was all by himself. But he stumbled
when the ball came to him. He just managed to trap the ball before the Rams’ defense bore down on him.

Lance had to get rid of the ball. Dana, who had sped up along the right wing slot, was the only player in the clear. It was
lose the ball or pass to him.

Before Lance had a chance to do either, one of
the Rams tacklers stole the ball away. He dribbled it to one side of the field, then booted it toward the Anchors’ goal.

But his own teammate got in the way. The ball bounced off the leg of the other tackler and over to Dana.

The rest of the Rams were moving toward Anchors territory. Dana had plenty of time to set up a good kick.

He sent the ball rocketing toward the Rams’ goal.

For a moment, he thought the kick would be good. But their goalie caught it about a yard in front of the goal. He wasted no
time sending it back downfield.

Dana recovered and turned in that direction. He found himself racing side by side with Benton. They went after the ball, each
one trying to get there first.

They both reached it pretty much at the same time.

“Get out of here!” Benton snapped. “I’ll take it!”

Dana stared at him. Why should he give up the ball to Benton? Who said Benton could decide?

Benton struggled to control the ball. His breath was coming in gasps. The ball wiggled free, and Dana took it away.

By now a bunch of Rams were bearing down on the two of them. Dana tried to set up a breakaway. He booted the ball way down
the field, in the direction of the Rams’ goal. With any luck, Abe or Steve would get to it in time for a goal attempt.

Steve almost had it, but there were too many Rams crowding around him. He struggled for control, but finally lost the ball
to a Rams tackler. The ball went back upfield as play shifted once again.

The Anchors’ defense did their best to hold them. They might have succeeded if Tucker hadn’t fallen. The Anchors’ fullback
had charged into a crowd of Rams trying to snag the ball. He almost had it when he slipped on the grass and fell on his butt.

The rest of the Anchors had held back, waiting to take over the ball from Tucker. Now there was no one in the way. The Rams’
right wing took his shot. He sent the ball flying to the left side of the goal area, just beyond Jazz’s reach. The ball went
in for the game’s first score.

The goal brought out the Rams’ supporters in full force. Dana couldn’t help but hear their cheers ring out.

Rams, yell ‘Red’!

Red!

Rams, yell ‘White’!

White!

Rams, yell ‘Win’!

Win!

Rams, what do you say?

Red! White! Win!

A blur of red-and-white ribbons waved in the air.

The Anchors’ cheerleaders weren’t about to take that sitting down. They rallied the crowd in their section of the stands.

Brickety-axe, co-axe, co-axe,

Hullabaloo, baloo
,

Anchors fight with all your might
,

Hurrah, for the red and blue!

Anchors, Anchors, rah, rah, rah!

Dana smiled. Too bad the team on the field wasn’t as feisty. Too bad they couldn’t seem to get their act together. Too bad
they weren’t playing as a team.

T
here were only seven minutes left in the first half, with the Rams still leading, 1–0.

“How are you doing?” Steve asked.

Dana shrugged. “Okay.”

“You sure?”

Dana shrugged again, but this time kept silent.

They jogged side by side down the field.

“I had a little talk with Benton,” Steve said.

“You did? About what?”

“I told him to knock off those stories about the fire and about your father.”

“You heard what he said about my dad’s work?” Dana almost stopped in his tracks.

“You bet I did,” Steve said. “So I asked my dad about your father. He told me there isn’t a better
electrician anywhere. Your dad did some work for him on a real estate development last year and saved him a bundle. Plus the
workmanship was terrific, he said.”

Dana’s heart swelled with pride.

“So when I told him about the rumor going around, he got real angry,” Steve went on. “I figured it was time I put an end to
it.”

Dana’s mouth was so dry, he could hardly speak. But he managed to get out, “Thanks, Steve. Thanks a lot!”

By then they were just inside the center line.

“Let’s get that ball!” Steve shouted to his fellow Anchors.

Dana headed over to the far corner of the field. He felt stronger and better than he had in a long time.

But the Rams held on to the ball. The Anchors’ defense bore down, but they couldn’t stem the tide. Within a matter of seconds,
the Rams had the ball inside the goal area.

Watching Pete and Tucker trying to wrench the ball from a Rams halfback, Dana stood with his fists
clenched. His knees were bent, ready to go after the ball if it came his way. All the while, he shouted encouragement.

“Come on, Tuck! Come on, Pete! Get that ball!”

In the midst of all the noise from both sides, someone must have heard him. He couldn’t tell who it was, but that someone
sent the ball zooming straight at him.

He was after it in a shot. Steve led the rest of the offense in the same direction. But the ball was all Dana’s. He trapped
it with his chest, let it drop, then dribbled it toward midfield. Off to one side, he could see Jack Nguyen running parallel
with him, waiting for a pass. At the same time, Rams tacklers were moving in, getting closer and closer. He could almost hear
their breathing.

He got within striking range, but there was a wall of defenders between him and the goal. He swiveled to one side, then turned
to the other and passed the ball to Jack.

Jack had the ball all by himself. There was one Ram fullback between him and a possible score.

“Make it a winner, Jack!” Dana yelled.

Jack drew back and booted the ball. But he had aimed his foot too high. Instead of flying through the air, the ball skittered
on the grass.

Abe and Steve swooped down after it. Abe got to it first. He kicked at it, slicing it back toward Dana.

Dana trapped the ball with his feet. He dribbled it a few feet toward the goal, then positioned himself for the kick. He gave
it his best shot.

The ball took off like a meteor.

Never had he kicked a ball that hard — and within microseconds, he wished he could pull it back. Abe had somehow gotten between
Dana and the goal. The ball hit him in the back with a sickening thud. The force was so great, it knocked him over. The ball
bounced over the goal line.

“Abe!” Dana cried as the whistle sounded. The ref helped Abe to his feet, then positioned the ball for a goal kick. The Rams’
goalie booted it with all his might.

There was a lot of groaning among the Anchors. But Abe only gave Dana a silent, steely glare.

With a minute to go in the half, the Rams were threatening again. In fact, it seemed like an instant replay of the action
before their goal earlier in the game.

Again, Dana was a little outside the tangled struggle for the ball. As much as he wanted to get in there, he knew he had to
stick to his position.

Just when he was sure a penalty whistle would blow, the ball broke loose. Sam Mikula, the Rams’ left wing, snagged it. With
only seconds left to play, he got set and booted the ball toward the goal. Jazz dived for it with all his might, but that
wasn’t enough. He was at least two feet from the ball when it zipped between the goalposts and struck the back of the net.

It sounded like the Fourth of July as the whistle finally signaled the end of the first half. The crowd erupted, and the Rams
celebrated the score: 2-0, in their favor.

“Tough luck, Dana,” Coach Kingsley said as the Anchors’ wing came off the field. “We almost had one there. If your kick had
just been a few more inches to one side, it would have been in there.”

“That kick was hard enough to knock over an elephant,” said Steve, settling down on the bench.

It sure had knocked over Abe, Dana thought. Now he and Benton have another reason to gripe about me.

The coach reviewed the first half with them. He pointed out problems, like not enough passing and lack of concentration.

“When you get the ball, look around,” he told them. “Figure out where you want to go, what you want to do with it. Then act
fast. Don’t just grab the ball and plunge straight ahead into a mess in the middle.”

He made a few final points. Then he called Dana and Benton over to one side.

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on between you two,” he said quietly. “But whatever it is, cut it out. You’re hurting the
team. So don’t take your personal problems out on the field with you.

“I’m surprised at the two of you. You’re neighbors. And everyone knows that Dana’s father saved your life, Benton. So, will
someone please tell me what’s the problem?”

“Nothing,” said Benton, staring at the ground.

“Nothing? Hey, I’m not blind, Benton. I can see the freezing going on out there. What about you, Dana? Are you going to tell
me it’s nothing, too?”

Dana shuffled his toe in the grass. “All I know is
that Bentons going around saying it’s my family’s fault his house burned down to the ground.”

Benton started to say something, but choked out a cough instead.

“He says my dad did a lousy job wiring their house, too, and that’s how the fire started. But he’s wrong! My dad —”

“My mother ought to know. She says an electrical problem caused the fire!” Benton cut in bitterly.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Dana argued. “ ’Sides, she’s just guessing!”

“What do you know, anyhow? You can’t even remember when someone asks you to do something!” Benton snapped.

“Okay, you two, knock it off — right now!” said the coach. “Listen, if you both want to keep playing for this team, you put
all that out of your minds and play ball. Sounds like you’re both shooting your mouths off too much. Now, shake hands and
promise me you’re going to deal with it later — peacefully. For now, you’re going to put the good of the team first.”

Neither boy rushed forward. Dana slid his toe
back and forth on the ground. Benton didn’t look up.

“My patience is running out,” the coach warned.

Then Dana stuck out his hand. Benton followed his lead.

“Good!” said Coach Kingsley. “Now get out there and put some life into this game!”

With a two-goal lead, the Rams were riding high. Even though the Anchors played a tougher game, the Rams still controlled
the ball during the start of the second half.

Dana ached to get in on some real action. Too much of his time was spent getting set for plays that never came about. Time
and again, a stray ball was the only thing that came his way.

All the time, he wondered whether Benton would keep his part of the coach’s deal. Deep down, he doubted it.

And, anyhow, he thought, how can anyone expect me to forgive Benton? My father saved his life — and his sister’s — and he
turns around and blames him for the fire!

A roar from the crowd pulled his attention toward
the Anchors’ goal. Their defense was tied up in a battle to hold off a determined Rams offense.

Dana watched anxiously. First the Rams had the ball, then the Anchors, then the Rams.

“Get it out of there, guys!” he yelled. “Come on, Anchors!”

The Anchors dug in. It was worth it.

A Rams wing had worked his way into the clear by a few feet. He rushed forward and booted the ball toward the goal. It wasn’t
a great kick, but it looked like it was going in.

Jazz lunged after it. For one second, it looked like he wouldn’t reach it. But he did. He stopped the ball with his open palm
and tipped it in front of the goal line.

Pete Morris swept by and booted the ball the other way. The late afternoon sun blinded Dana for a minute, but then he saw
the ball traveling just beyond him.

“Way to go, Jazz! Way to go, Pete!” he shouted as he ran after it. In the distance, he could hear the Anchors’ cheerleaders.
They were calling for a double locomotive for Jazz and Pete.

Jack Nguyen got to the ball before Dana. He stopped it, dribbled forward, then passed it over to Lance. It traveled a few
more yards toward the goal, then Lance booted it over to Abe.

The Rams targeted the Anchors’ left wing. Two tacklers moved in on him from across the field. Abe saw the coming onslaught.
He passed the ball cross-field to Benton.