by Tim Green
“He’s a little upset about all this.” Mr. Muiller’s voice was strong and calm. “But he’s better now and we’re going to get him home so we can talk. We’re done here. I didn’t like the way they were treating him.”
“You? You brought him here!” Cory’s mom raised her voice and she gave Mr. Muiller a vicious look.
“Mom, stop.” Cory clenched his hands, begging, because this wonderful man had just pulled him from the jaws of a crazy policeman. “Just stop.”
“I’m his mother,” she said to Mr. Muiller.
“Ashley, please calm down. Of course you’re his mother. Everything’s going to be fine,” said Mr. Muiller.
“I don’t know how you can just say that.” Cory’s mom grabbed two handfuls of her long dark hair.
“I can say it because even if Cory is involved,” Mr. Muiller said, “I’m the one who can shut this all down. I don’t have to press charges.”
“Cory’s involved?” Horror iced his mother’s whisper.
“Not in a foul way.” Mr. Muiller pushed the elevator button. “They may have threatened him to get the code. I don’t know.”
Cory wanted to get the truth out, but more than that, he wanted to get away from the police station before something happened that trapped him in there again, so he stayed quiet. The elevator opened. Mr. Muiller hesitated, but when Cory stepped on, he followed, as did Cory’s mom and Marvin. The elevator rumbled and plunged.
While they’d been inside the police station, the sky had begun to clear. Cory took the patches of blue between puffy white clouds as a sign, but as they walked out of the police station, Cory’s mom caught up to him and put her arm around his shoulder. “Do you want to come home, Cory?”
“No.” Cory spit the word out.
“Because of Marvin?” she asked, hurt. “Is that what this is all about? Why are you acting like this to me?”
“No. Stop, Mom.” He shrugged free from her. “Mr. Muiller is gonna take care of things.”
“You’re twelve, Cory. I’m your mother.” She looked like she might cry or scream, or both.
Cory shook his head and looked away. “No. I’m fine. Leave me alone.”
“Fine.” She spit the word at him and marched off, towing Marvin along by some unseen leash.
“Ashley, I’ll call you with any news.” Mr. Muiller raised his voice so she could hear, but if she did, she didn’t give any sign of it.
She just kept walking.
Cory had never been so alone.
78
Mr. Muiller started the car and then turned to Cory. “Uh, the game’s probably still going, but I doubt you want to go back there after all this, right?”
Cory shrugged. He couldn’t imagine playing with everyone staring at him and his teammates distracted by the incident.
“Yeah, I don’t blame you.” Mr. Muiller put the car into gear and left the lot. “I wouldn’t either. We can just get back to the house and relax.”
When they reached the highway, Mr. Muiller said, “That was some touchdown you had, you and Jimbo. Heh heh! I mean, a short pass and you did most of the work, but it still goes down in the books as a touchdown pass, right? I love that.”
Cory wanted to talk, wanted to act like Mr. Muiller, like everything was fine, but he couldn’t manage anything more than a weak smile.
They went back to the house. The sky continued to clear, but Cory went to his room to read and think.
After a time, he heard voices outside his window. He pulled aside the shade and saw Jimbo with some teammates splashing in the pool. Sun now poured down through the trees. Cory watched. More kids arrived, Garrison, Mike, Parker, and Gant among them. Cheyenne appeared with Tami and Tiffanae, and she sat down on a deck chair beside Mike. Cory let the curtain drop and returned to the chair in the dark corner of his room. He picked up his book and tried to drown the noise of happy kids in the words of his book. No luck.
After some time, a knock on his door brought Mr. Muiller, dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and shorts. In his hand was a long spatula, a king’s scepter. “Come on out. You’re a part of the team, Cory. We won! And we wouldn’t have won without your touchdown, you know. The score was 26–21.”
Cory shrugged and held up his book like it would be a punishment to leave it. “I’m at a really good part.”
Mr. Muiller looked at Cory and sighed. “You know, when I was a kid, we went camping at this place. They had a swimming hole in an old quarry, and you’d jump off this rock cliff into this emerald green water. They said it had no bottom, or not one anyone had ever been able to find.”
Mr. Muiller put a hand on the top of the door frame and leaned into the room. “Scared the heck out of me. I wouldn’t go in, hot as it was. My brothers, they all teased me the way brothers do, but no way was I jumping in. Then my dad said to me, he said, ‘Son, your whole life you’re gonna come across water and other things where you can’t see the bottom, and if you can’t jump in, you’re gonna live a very dull, very average life.’”
Mr. Muiller smiled at Cory as if Cory knew what he meant, but Cory frowned and tilted his head.
Mr. Muiller kept smiling. “My dad knew I wanted to be anything but average, so, of course, I jumped. Loved it. I swear I can feel that water and the breeze and see the sparkle of the sunshine on those ripples.
“I know you’re like that too,” he continued, “like me. You’re hungry. I see that quiet fire in your eyes. You want to do things, go places. That’s why you’re here. Not a lot of twelve-year-old kids just up and leave their homes. So, what I’m saying is, jump in. Put your book down and get out there. I know you can’t see the bottom, but there’s nothing out there that’s gonna kill you. You can tell them I’m handling the police, that everything is fine, and to come talk to me if they have any more questions.”
Mr. Muiller slapped the spatula against the open door a couple of times to get Cory’s full attention. “Besides, Cheyenne is out there and she’ll take care of you.”
Cory swallowed and wondered if Mr. Muiller knew the effect Cheyenne had on him. He was as embarrassed as he was excited about the prospect of her being on his side.
“Yeah, I thought that’d tilt the balance,” Mr. Muiller said, grinning. Then he disappeared.
Cory sat for a minute, thinking as the sounds of laughter and splashing sifted through the window.
He closed his book and took a deep breath before pulling on his bathing suit and heading outside. He let himself out through one of the glass doors off the game room and into the thick crowd of his teammates and girls’ soccer players. It felt like deep water, murky and forbidding.
It was painfully obvious that everyone was looking but no one had a thing to say.
Cory couldn’t go forward, but he couldn’t go back either.
79
Cheyenne saw him and jumped up from her chair.
“Hey, Cory,” she said, her blue eyes sparkling. She wore a tie-dyed cover-up shirt over her bathing suit with her long, blond hair pulled back into a ponytail. “We were just talking about you. My dad said everything worked out. You were doing so great in the scrimmage. Without you, B’ville would’ve smoked us. But it doesn’t count, so everyone’s just thinking about the opener next week and West Genesee.”
Cheyenne spoke loud enough so that everyone could hear, setting the ground rules for the rest of them. Cory’s feelings of embarrassment and excitement fought for control.
“What’s that defense West Genny plays, Jimbo? What’d you call it?” She raised her voice above the noise.
Jimbo had half a cheeseburger in his mouth, but he managed to say, “A forty-six. It’s an eight-man front.”
“Yeah, so there’s that.” Cheyenne rolled her eyes and spoke to Cory like he was the only person on earth, even though she had to know everyone was watching. “Want a burger? Come on. I’m hungry.”
She took his arm and led him along the pool and up the stairs. Looking back down at all the staring faces, she leaned close to Cory and, in
her Shakespeare voice, whispered, “‘Hell is empty and all the devils are here.’”
“Meaning?” Cory had to ask.
“People like to gossip,” she said. “And getting hauled off by the police seems to bring out the worst in the HBS world. But don’t worry, we got your back.”
“Thank you.”
Smoke poured from the grill where her father was busy cooking. Cory looked back at the forest of stares and picked out his rival’s dejected face. Mike saw him looking, bit into his lower lip, and looked away. Gant met them at the top of the stairs and bumped fists with Cory.
“What’s up, bro? All good?” Gant’s attempt to sound casual was forced.
“All good,” Cory said.
Gant stared at him for a moment before coming out of his daze. “Oh, great. Crazy thing. Cops. They get excited, right?”
“What do you mean?” Cory couldn’t help asking.
“Just, them arresting you,” Gant said. “Glad it’s all cool.”
“It is.” Cheyenne shot a look at Gant.
“They didn’t arrest me,” Cory said to set the record straight.
“Oh . . . sorry. So, let’s eat.” Gant’s famous smile returned and they lined up so Mr. Muiller could serve them.
Cory thought he saw Cheyenne’s father give her a secret wink and whisper, “Thanks,” as he slid a snapping hot burger onto her plate. Cory and Cheyenne and Gant loaded up their burgers with pickles and onions, lettuce and tomatoes, and weighed down their plates with scoops of potato salad and baked beans. They wrestled sodas free from a monster cooler filled with ice and sat at the big table under the roof. They had it all to themselves as most everyone else had already eaten.
Gant had three burgers stacked up. He laid potato chips on top of some onion and tomato and grinned at Cory. “A triple.”
Before taking a bite of his, Cory turned to Cheyenne. “Thanks for doing this.”
“Doing what?” Her blue eyes sparkled.
Cory sighed. “I know what everyone thinks.”
“‘The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool.’ Who cares what they think?” Cheyenne held her phone out for a selfie and leaned close to Cory. “Make a face. Snapchat.”
Cory forced a smile and crossed his eyes. Cheyenne stuck out her tongue and snapped a picture, sending it out for the rest of the HBS world to see. Everyone followed Cheyenne, and Cory couldn’t help feeling proud to have her arm around him. It warmed his insides to be treated like this special, because she believed in him, despite how bad things looked. They ate and chatted about how Cheyenne’s soccer team would fare without their top goalie, who’d been lost for the season with a broken leg. Cory couldn’t take his eyes off of Cheyenne, and he soaked up how pretty she was the way a stone warms in the midday heat.
The sun blinked through the trees and the air had begun to cool when Tiffanae appeared at the top of the stairs. “Cheyenne, I bet Garrison a pizza that you can do a one-and-a-half backflip off the board. Come show him.”
Cheyenne laughed. “I want half. Pepperoni.”
“You got it.” Tiffanae giggled and shouted down at Garrison, “Get your wallet out! Here she comes!”
Gant and Cory watched Cheyenne go, but they both continued to sit. When Cory looked at his friend, he was disturbed to see such a sad face. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Gant just shook his head, his thick eyebrows scrunched down low. “Just feel bad for you, bro.”
“Gant, why?” Cory blinked and looked around, keeping his voice low. “What are you talking about?”
“All this? Everyone against you.”
Cory snorted. “Gant, Mr. Muiller and Cheyenne are on my side. That’s all I need. They believe me. Everyone else will come around. Heck, it was their house that got broken into.”
Gant’s frown drooped even more. “No, bro.”
“‘No, bro’ what?” Cory leaned toward his friend, wanting to choke him.
Gant looked him in the eye. “The Muillers don’t believe you, bro. They think you’re in on it. I heard the parents talking.”
“What?” Cory’s face contorted. “What did they say?”
80
Gant seemed speechless. “Uh . . .”
Cory’s heart froze and he leaned across the table, grabbing Gant’s thick wrist and pulling him closer so he could whisper. “Gant, these people love me.”
“Bro, my wrist.” Gant pulled free. “They love you until they don’t, Cor. You gotta be realistic.”
“Stop talking in riddles. They love me until they don’t?”
“They loved Aidan Brown. Then he got nabbed stealing and then the bad hammy and . . . boom! Kicked to the curb.”
Cory looked back and saw Mr. Muiller surveying the pool area with a fancy beer in one hand before whispering to Gant, “What did they say?”
“Arguing, really,” Gant said. “She wanted to press charges, but he said it’s just the way you grew up and that it helped you as a football player—being a tough street kid and all that—and that you’d realize living with them that you didn’t have to steal.”
“I didn’t steal.” Cory hissed. “I am not a thief.”
Cory could tell that even Gant didn’t entirely believe him. “Look, I’m your friend. Friends stick together through thick and thin. I get it. It stinks to have everyone around you tapping away on their phone and all you’ve got is a jumping bean in your hand.”
“Gant, stop it. I did not steal from the Muillers.”
“You didn’t, but your posse did. Cory, I’m not an idiot, and neither are the Muillers.”
There was a whoop and a scream, then a splash and cheering. Cory looked down at the pool to see Cheyenne surface with a smile and pump her fist in the air.
“Cheyenne?” he said, as much to himself as to Gant. “Her too? She thinks I helped Dirty rob them?”
“Wake up; the crooks knew the code. But that’s the great thing about the Muillers.” Gant patted Cory’s hand as he spoke. “They’re rich, but they feel sorry for people who aren’t. Well, Cheyenne and her dad anyway, and they pretty much run the show.”
Gant looked hopeful that Cory understood.
“And Mike? Bro, he helped you big-time today.” Gant angled his head down toward the pool. “That dog won’t hunt. He played like he was blindfolded. See, Jimbo needs a run game. Everyone knows that. That’s where me and you come in. We give him that run game and a championship and he’s all-state and goes D-I, full ride and all that. All you got to do is carry the rock.”
Cory grabbed the edge of the table as if he was in danger of floating away. “Wait, you mean they think I helped Dirty break into their home, but they’re still behind me because I can run the ball?”
“Coach McMahan is like a god, and word about what you did in practice got around too. Now all you need to do is light it up against West Genesee, show everyone you’re the real deal—which I know you will because I’ll be opening the holes for you, bro.” Gant grinned and held out his giant fist for Cory to bump.
Cory held up his hand and touched knuckles in slow motion. His words came out like cold molasses. “You mean . . . everything for me . . . depends . . . on how I play next Saturday?”
Gant laughed and grinned and his head bobbed. “Yeah, pretty much.”
“And what if I don’t . . . light it up?”
Gant’s face sank. “Well, that won’t happen, bro.”
“But if it did?” Cory felt like he was poking his own wound.
Gant curled his lower lip over his teeth and swiped it with the back of his tongue. “Well . . . if you choked, you mean?”
“Yeah, if I fell flat on my face, choked like a turkey.”
Gant sighed. “All I can say then is . . . Aidan Brown.”
Cory glanced over his shoulder and saw Mrs. Muiller standing next to her husband now. Each of them had a drink. They toasted something and took their sips as they surveyed the pool.
“You mean they’ll just
keep burning through kids like me and Aidan Brown until they find one who can make their son look good on the football field?” Cory didn’t want to believe it.
“Hey, bro.” Gant shrugged. “I’m not complaining, and you shouldn’t either. It’s their money. They can do whatever they want.”
81
It was a strange week.
Cory’s mom came and got him on Sunday. She took him to Green Lakes Park for the day, just the two of them. She tried twice to talk to him about the police and the burglary, but he clammed up and wouldn’t say anything other than that everything was fine and that Mr. Muiller had it under control. After trying to talk to him for the first half hour, Cory’s mom got as interested in her book as he was by his. He was reading Ender’s Game and grateful for such a good distraction. The rest of the time they were together, but it was as if each of them was alone.
Finally, the sun dropped behind the trees. They picked up their blanket and towels, then had burgers at McDonald’s before she dropped him off with a kiss. “I love you, Cory.”
“Thanks, Mom.” He leaned away and opened the car door.
“And I want you to know that whatever I do, I have to try and help you. Even if it makes a mess, I have to do it because you mean more to me than anything, than my own life . . .”
Cory thought she was talking about Marvin. Maybe she’d break up with him. How lonely would she be then? He shouldn’t let her do it, but that’s what he wanted, selfish as it was. Cory felt his insides melting, so he hurried out of her little, battered car before leaning in. “Love you too.”
He closed the door and hurried up the steps without looking back. Her car buzzed and rattled down the drive.
School was awkward, and Cory kept his nose in his studies.
The team was tense because of the game coming up, and besides Parker wrapping Garrison’s padlock in a six-inch ball of tape, there was no fooling around.
Mike and Cory split reps with the first-team offense in practice, and Cory felt like he had a decent week of practice. Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Muiller said a word to him about the police or the break-in, nor did Jimbo or Cheyenne.