by Edward Bloor
I could see a mixed group, girls and boys, taking turns shooting the ball at a big, tall girl in the goal. I said, "That's Shandra, right?"
"Yeah. In the goal. That's Shandra."
"Who are those other girls?"
"Who? You mean the ones standing together?"
"Yeah."
"That's Maya and Nita. Maya's the tall one. They're cousins. They're always hanging out together."
"And who's the other big girl?"
"That's Dolly. Dolly Elias. Her brother Ignazio was the captain last year." Theresa pointed at her and called, "What's up, Dolly?" It was the first time I had heard her raise her voice. Dolly waved back.
"Is she your friend?"
"Yeah. She rides home with Luis and Tino and me."
"Is Luis on the team, too?"
"No. No, Luis is grown-up. He's our big brother. He comes and picks us all up after practice. He picks up Hernando and Victor, too."
We crossed the field in front of Dolly just as she drove a perfect corner kick, five feet off the ground. Theresa walked me up to a tall, powerful-looking woman in a maroon warm-up suit. She said, "Ms. Bright, this is Paul Fisher from Lake Windsor Middle School. He wants to play on your soccer team."
Ms. Bright had to look down to meet my eyes. She said, "How long are you going to be with us, Paul?"
"Three months, ma'am. At least through the soccer season."
"Uh-huh. Have you played soccer before?"
"Oh yes, ma'am. All my life. I was starting goalie for my last school, back in Houston."
"Uh-huh. Well, let me explain something to you right from jumpstreet. You can be on my team. But you're not going to take the place of one of my starting players and then go back to your Lake Windsor Middle School. That's not going to happen. If you want to play backup to one of my starting players, then I'll be glad to have you."
"Yes, ma'am. That's what I want to do."
"Good. I need a backup in goal. Grab that red shirt and go down to the far end. We're about to start the scrimmage."
"Yes, ma'am." I ran down to the far goal, set my bag down, and pulled on my protective gear. With half the starters missing, the scrimmage was kind of a joke. I only touched the ball once. Needless to say, no one scored on me. Shandra had the same kind of game down at her end.
I can't describe how great it feels to have another chance. Nothing, nothing at all, is going to bother me. I'll play backup to Shandra Thomas and be happy about it. Goalies get hurt. A lot. They need backups more than anybody else. I've been hurt—had my hand stepped on, had the wind knocked out of me—and someone had to fill in for me. It happens all the time. I'll get into some games, no question about that.
Near the end of practice, I noticed a familiar truck pull up. It was the same pickup that I had seen at the carnival, the vintage green one with TOMAS CRUZ GROVES, TANGERINE, FLORIDA written on the side. A guy in jeans with a plaid work shirt got out and walked over to Theresa. He walked with a bad limp. This had to be her brother Luis. He had the same dark brown hair and eyes as Theresa. His head and hands seemed very large, even from where I was standing. After practice Theresa and Dolly climbed into the front of the truck with him and drove away.
I gathered up my gear and walked back into the building alone. Just as I was about to push through the wooden front door, I heard, "There you are, honey!"
I turned and saw Mom coming down the stairs from the second-floor office. I watched her until she put her arm around my shoulder and started to lead me out. I had a panicked feeling, like my heart had stopped beating. But I managed to ask quietly, "Mom, what were you doing up there?"
We crossed the road and reached our car before she replied. "Dr. Johnson's secretary called me today, Mr. Know-It-All. It turns out you do need your paperwork from Lake Windsor Middle School in order to transfer here."
My heart began to ache. "My paperwork?"
"That's right. I had to drive up to Lake Windsor and get it. You can't imagine the chaos in that office!"
"Mom, who did you talk to?"
"Mr. Murrow, of course. He gave me your file, and I delivered it here. Now you're official." Mom unlocked the doors and we both climbed in.
I looked at her angrily. "I'm officially what?"
"A student at Tangerine Middle School."
"A visually impaired student? An IEP student?"
"No. Nothing of the kind."
I closed my eyes in despair. "So what happens when the head of guidance here opens my file and sees my IEP?"
"Nothing happens, Paul. There is no IEP in your file." Mom started the car and put it in gear. As we U-turned in front of the school, she added, very carefully, "Your IEP form disappeared somewhere between Lake Windsor and here. It's the kind of thing we should probably never mention again."
We rode in silence back through the downtown area to the highway. I finally said, "Maybe it was an osprey."
"What?"
"Maybe an osprey got hold of it."
"What are you talking about?"
"You know, my IEP. Maybe it's feathering some osprey nest right now."
Mom finally got the joke and smiled. "That would be a nice decorating touch."
"Yeah."
"Inconsistent with the scheme of the other nests, but a nice touch."
"Yeah. Something like that." As we headed west on Route 22, I began to feel a real sense of hope about Tangerine Middle School. After all, it was great luck getting Theresa as a guide. Getting Mom to ditch my paperwork was beyond luck; it was another miracle.
Things actually seem to be going my way. Finally. It's the Paul Fisher Soccer Dream. I wonder if Erik feels that way about his life here. But I wonder, too, if Mike Costello felt that way about his when he was leaning against that goalpost.
Tuesday, September 19
I followed Theresa around all morning again. Another big kid, a different one, banged me into a locker. Theresa didn't pay any attention to it, so I tried not to, either. I followed her into the lunchroom again, and we sat down at the same table as yesterday. Everything seemed to be cool. But then everything got uncool real fast.
A bunch of guys came over. I recognized a few of them from the carnival. Their leader, a stocky guy with curly hair and real oily skin, said to Theresa, "What's he doing here?"
She said, "This is the one I told you about. The one who wants to play on your soccer team."
The leader eyeballed me and snorted. "You? You think you can play on my team? What do you think this is, Lake Windsor Middle School? You think we gotta take every chump who shows up? You think 'cause your mommy buys you a jockstrap you're automatically on my team?"
I looked at him calmly. I really didn't know if he was putting me on or if he meant what he was saying. He looked like he was about to dump his lunch tray on my head.
Theresa spoke up. "Chill out, Victor. I'm trying to eat."
Victor took the seat directly across from me, in my face. He continued, "Lake Windsor—that team's a joke, man. We're gonna bust you up this year. You got that big Italian kid, right? Thinks he's bad? He's a joke, man. He's nothin'. And the rest of you guys?...That makes you less than nothin'. Less than zero. That's you, Lake Windsor Man. Less than zero. You're a negative integer." He turned to one of the other guys and slapped hands with him.
Victor then turned his attention to his hamburger and took a big bite. I figured he wasn't really serious, he was just messing with me. I decided to take a chance. I said, "Hey, what do you expect? We play in a sinkhole."
Victor shot an angry look at me, but then he started laughing, nearly choking on his burger. The other guys took their cue from him and started laughing, too. "That's right, man. You crawled out of some kind of sinkhole. That's right." He took a drink of soda. "Hey, what's that big kid's name?"
"Gino."
"Right. Gino. Hey, Tino! They got a Gino, and we got a Tino." Victor reached across, high-fived with Theresa's twin brother, and went on. "I heard about your Gino. You ever hear about me? You ever hear of
Victor Guzman?"
"Yeah. I heard about you. I heard you scored sixteen goals last year. I heard you were All-County."
Victor took another bite and said, "You heard right."
Everybody was quiet after that, so I said, "I worked out with the team yesterday."
"Fool, you didn't work out with the team! The team wasn't there yesterday."
I looked at Theresa. I decided to play dumb. "Right. Right. Where were you guys?"
Victor snorted. "Tell him where we were, Tino."
Tino answered to nobody in particular, "We were in jail. They put us in the vandalism jail."
My stomach suddenly knotted up. I said, "What? They put you guys in a jail cell?"
Tino looked at me like I had just said the stupidest thing he had ever heard and I was the biggest loser he had ever met.
Another kid at the table said, "Yeah, I heard you guys got busted. What was up with that?"
Tino answered, "Self-defense, man."
Victor laughed through a mouthful of hamburger. He swallowed and said, "Right. Right. Self-defense. Me and Hernando saw the whole thing."
Hernando added, "Self-defense, man. All the way."
Victor continued, "Did you go to the freak show? At the carnival? Did you see that dude with the big scar down his cheek and the big ax in his hand? Ax Man was his name. Me and Hernando are reading all about this guy on the sign. He chopped people up, right?"
Hernando filled in, "He chopped a whole bunch of people up, long time ago."
"Right. So we're reading about him, and Tino comes around the corner real fast and gets scared."
"Scared? No way!" Tino protested.
"So he screams, and jumps up in the air, and karate-kicks this Ax Man dude right in the stomach, right? And Ax Man snaps in half!"
"Right in half, man," said Hernando. "He's laying all over the floor."
"So we start yelling, 'You killed Ax Man! You killed Ax Man! Let's get outta here!' And we all run outta that place!"
Victor, Tino, and Hernando started rollicking with laughter, reliving the moment. My stomach started to knot again. I said, "So how did you get busted?"
Victor stopped laughing. "How did we get busted?" He glared at Tino. "Stupid Tino here."
Tino snapped at him, "Shut up, fool."
"You shut up. He's carrying his soccer ball around all day, showin' off, you know? Like he's got something to show off."
"I told you to shut up."
"Yeah. You told me that. So they call up Betty Bright and they tell her that it was soccer players that trashed the Ax Man. She knows right away who it was, so she nails us."
The conversation soon turned to things that I didn't know about. I concentrated on my lunch, thinking, Maybe you actually got away with ratting out these guys. I certainly hoped so.
As soon as I got to practice in the afternoon, I could tell that things were different.
Victor Guzman is the leader out there. Everybody accepts that. He spurs on the offense all the time. He talks trash to the defense all the time. He wants the ball all the time.
Lake Windsor Middle had about thirty kids on its team; Tangerine Middle has fifteen. I make it sixteen. They don't even have enough players for two scrimmage teams. The starting front line plays against the starting defense. The other four kids play behind the front line, feeding them the ball.
I was in the far goal again. I may as well have been in Houston. I never touched the ball until right before the end of practice, when the coach called Shandra over to talk to her. The coach yelled down to my end of the field. "New guy! Paul Fisher! Get up here. Get in goal."
I sprinted up and took my place on the goal line. So far the front line had scored four times. But Shandra had made about fifteen saves, some of them really impressive. Now it was my turn to face the starters. Victor, Maya, and Tino are the main strikers. They play in the middle of the front line. Nita and a kid they call Henry D. play out on the wings.
Victor started in on me right away. "Paul Fisher? Hey, Fisher Man, you think this is trout season here or something? You think you're in some kinda tuna-catchin' tournament here?" Some of the others started laughing. "You're gonna be wearing those glasses on the other side of your head if you think that. This ain't no Lake Windsor Middle School, sucka. You're facing the War Eagles now!"
Nita set the ball up in the corner. She lofted a corner kick into the center to Maya, who controlled it and passed it along the ground to Victor. Victor caught it at full stride and drove a shot high and hard toward the goal. I saw it coming all the way. I sprang off my heels, forward and to the left. The ball stuck in my outstretched hands like they were Velcro. I landed flat on the ground, fully extended, holding on to the ball. A great save.
I looked over to check Betty Bright's reaction. She had her head down, talking earnestly to Shandra. She had missed the whole thing.
Suddenly, wham! A foot came slicing in front of my face, driving the ball out of my hands and into the goal. Victor pumped his fist into the air. He leaned over me and yelled, "You taking a nap, Fisher Man? Is this naptime at Lake Windsor Middle School? Too bad. You missed my goal!"
Tino came up behind him, shaking his head, "That's no goal, man. That's bogus."
Victor turned on him. "What are you talking about? That goal counts."
"No chance. That ball was dead."
"Yeah? You gonna be dead you don't shut your mouth."
"You shut your mouth, chump!"
"Hey, come here and shut it for me!"
Tino lunged at Victor. They bounced off each other and squared off in a snarling, karate-kicking scene, right above my head. Hernando tried to get between them and break it up, and Maya and Nita drifted out of the way.
The coach looked up and blew her whistle. She screamed at them, "You two didn't learn a thing, did you? Do you need another three days off? Do you need to miss the opening game of the season?" The combatants stopped fighting and glared at each other. "I see one more punch over there, you two are back on suspension. You hear me?" Victor and Tino continued to glare at each other, but the worst of it seemed to be over. The coach blew her whistle again. "That's enough for today. Everybody get here early tomorrow. I'm giving out the uniforms."
I picked myself up off the ground and followed everybody off the field. When we got to the bus lanes, the old green truck pulled up. Theresa and Dolly got into the front while Tino, Hernando, and Victor piled into the back. All seemed to be forgiven with them. They were already laughing about something. Probably about me.
When I walked out to the front of the building, I saw Maya and Nita waiting for their ride. I nodded as I walked past them. Maya said to me, in a musical voice, "That was an excellent save."
"Oh? Thank you."
"The goal would not have counted. You had the ball in your grasp."
"Uh-huh."
"The whistle would have blown."
"Thank you. I know better than that, though. I shouldn't have been lying there posing for pictures like that. I should have protected the ball."
A blue Mercedes pulled up and the two girls got in. Mom pulled up right behind. She said, "So, are you on the team?"
"Yeah. I think I am."
She jerked her head toward the blue Mercedes. "Are those two girls on it?"
"Yep."
"Really? Girls? Are they the only ones?"
"Nope. There are two more."
Mom seemed genuinely impressed. "How nice. To have girls on your team. That's nice."
As we drove home, I relived everything that happened at lunchtime and at practice. Every word. Every action. I thought to myself, It's not my team, Mom. Not yet anyway. Not by a long shot. And it's definitely not nice. But it's where I want to be.
Wednesday, September 20
I got my uniform today. Joey brought his over after supper.
We went out back, through the patio doors. That was a mistake. It was a bad time to be outside. The muck fire was particularly strong. I could actually see it, and feel it
, and smell it swirling over and into our yard. And mixed in with it, I could hear a sound, a predator's sound. It was the sound of Arthur Bauer's Land Cruiser on the other side of the back wall. It was the sound of Arthur and Erik accelerating, braking, and sliding through the mud on the perimeter road. I should have told Joey to come back inside, but I didn't. We laid our uniforms out on the picnic table, side-by-side, so we could compare them.
Joey's uniform is brand-new. It has light blue socks, white shorts, and a light blue jersey. The jersey has a white number 10 on the back and the word seagulls written in cursive across the front. Pretty cool.
My uniform has obviously known some previous owners. It has maroon socks and shorts and a gold jersey with a thin maroon stripe on each side. The jersey has a black number 5 on the back and a round black patch over the heart, hand sewn, that shows a ferocious-looking eagle with arrows in its talons.
The smoke was starting to get to us, so we gathered up our stuff to go inside. I hadn't noticed that the predator's roar had stopped. Arthur and Erik had quit their mud running and driven around from the perimeter road to our driveway. I usually notice stuff like that, especially where Erik is concerned, but today I didn't.
Just as Joey and I turned around from the table, Erik and Arthur entered the backyard through the gate. Arthur ignored us and headed toward the patio door.
Erik, carrying all of his football gear, swiped at Arthur with his helmet and said, "Hey, check it out. It's Mohawk Man's brother."
Arthur stopped and stared at Joey. He answered on their cruel wavelength. "I didn't know Mohawk Man had a brother."
"Yeah you did, butthead. The shoes! He was trying to take Mohawk Man's shoes!"
The two of them started to laugh. Erik said, "It's the hair that fooled you. No family resemblance."
Arthur picked up the banter. "No. No resemblance. None at all."
"I wonder if he got his money back for those shoes."
"Yeah. Hey, there was nothin' wrong with those shoes. The kid had some money comin'."
Joey was clearly stunned by this exchange. He had no idea what they were talking about. But I did, and I felt sick with anger.