by Edward Bloor
Victor continued to protest. "It's not even bleeding anymore."
"Yes, it is bleeding. You should see your shirt."
"I can play this half and then go."
"You're already gone, Victor. Now deal with that."
Victor looked at me for a few long seconds. Then he turned to address us all. "Who wants to win this game?"
Everybody in the circle looked back at him, not knowing what to do.
Victor shouted, "Do you want to win this game?" and we started yelling, "Yeah! Yeah!"
"Do you want to win this game?"
"Yeah! Yeah!"
Victor reached out and fixed his clenched fist in the middle of the circle. We all leaped up and put our hands on his as he started the chant—"War Eagles! War Eagles!" We started moving our hands in unison, up and down, changing the chant into the frenzied cry of "War! War! War!"
We opened the second half with fire in our eyes, even though we had me in instead of Victor. This time it was the defense that sparked the rally. They wouldn't let the Kinnow players cross the midfield line with the ball. Mano, Dolly, Hernando—they kept pounding the ball upfield to the strikers.
Maya was getting the ball a lot, more than in the first half, and she was making things happen. She beat her defender to the outside and then crossed the ball in to Tino, who scored the first goal of the half. We didn't celebrate. We came right back at them. Maya hit one in herself, a beautiful, looping shot into the upper right corner of the goal. The Kinnow goaltender never even saw it coming.
The defense got the ball back upfield immediately. Maya dribbled right, and three defenders went after her. She lobbed the ball back over their heads, and guess who was standing there, all alone, in front of the goal? This time I didn't stop to think. I kicked the ball as hard I could. It glanced off the goalie's left hand and carried into the net.
I had scored a goal! Had this ever happened before? I just stood there, staring at the net, until I realized that my teammates were hurrying to line up again.
I was still trying to remember any time when I had ever scored a goal when Maya got another one on a long cross pass from Nita. She raised her foot, knee-high, and smacked the ball right out of the air into the net. Suddenly this tight game was a 7–3 blowout.
The coach started sending in other subs. She sent Joey in for Hernando. She sent one of the sixth graders in for Maya, who got a loud ovation from the fans.
The Kinnow players never recovered from that assault, although they did manage to move the ball into our end of the field. It turns out that Joey's a pretty terrible soccer player. They had no trouble beating him again and again. Shandra had to make a few tough saves near the end, but that's probably what Betty Bright wanted. The final score was Tangerine 7, Kinnow 3.
Mr. Cruz and Victor came back right at the end. Victor had a line of black stitches going up his forehead, like Frankenstein. He fell on his knees in thanks when he found out the score. Then he started high-fiving with the starters.
He called over to me, "Hey, Fisher Man! You were me out there, right? How many goals did I score?"
I shrugged. "Sorry, Victor. I could only get you one."
Victor looked at Tino to confirm this, and Tino nodded. Victor stepped toward me and held up his hand. I high-fived it for all I was worth.
Tuesday, September 26, later
The portable phone rang just as I walked past it in the great room. I heard my grandmother's no-nonsense voice. "Hello, Paul. How are you?"
"I'm fine, Grandmom."
"You didn't get hurt in all that sinkhole business?"
"Oh no. No. I got pretty dirty, but not hurt."
"And how are you otherwise?"
Mom walked in and mouthed the words "Who is it?"
I said out loud, "Grandmom," and she reached out for the phone.
I signed off. "I'm all right, Grandmom. Here's Mom."
Mom always seems eager to get on the phone with Grand-mom and Grandpop. Dad and Erik certainly don't. They make themselves scarce. Mom began to tell her mother about the sinkhole and the emergency relocation plan, so I made my way upstairs. It sounded like she was going to be on for a long time, which is why I was surprised a few minutes later when she opened my door and held out the portable toward me.
I mouthed the word "Grandmom?"
She whispered back, "No, a girl," and left.
Puzzled, I said, "Hello."
"Paul? Hi. It's Cara Clifton. From Lake Windsor Middle? Do you remember me?"
"Yeah."
"How's it going?"
I couldn't think of a thing to say, so she continued. "I just wanted to find out how you liked Tangerine Middle. Joey says it's really different. I don't know what he means by that."
"Neither do I. Uh, maybe he just means that it's a tougher place."
"Yeah? So what are the kids like?"
"Some of them are pretty tough. They have gangs and stuff. But the kids I'm with are cool."
"Yeah? So ... are you going out with anybody from there?"
I was shocked. No one had ever asked me that question before. I said, "What do you mean?"
"Joey said he thought you might be going with some girl from there."
"He did? No. No, I'm not."
"Uh-huh. Oh, do you remember Kerri? My friend Kerri Gardner?"
"Yeah. Sure."
"I almost forgot. I told her I was gonna call you, and she said to say hi."
"Oh. OK. Well, tell her I said hi."
"Yeah? You want me to tell her you said hi?"
"Sure. Yeah."
"So you kinda like her, then?"
I froze. I suddenly felt like someone was looking at me through one of those two-way mirrors. I didn't say anything else, so Cara finally said, "OK, then. It's just that she's a friend of mine, and she asked me to say hi, so I wanted to make sure I did."
"OK."
"Let me get off now. Maybe I'll be seeing you around sometime with Joey."
"OK. Bye."
"Bye."
I sat there for a minute, stunned. Then I turned the phone back on and called Joey. "Hey, your girlfriend just called me. Cara?"
"Yeah? What does she want with you?"
"She started asking me if I like Kerri Gardner."
"Oh. OK. Say no more. You know what they were doing, right?"
"What?"
"They were scamming you. Girls scam guys all the time with that. Kerri was listening in on the extension."
"No!"
"Yeah. That's how it works. She has her friend call you up and find out what you have to say about her. It's kinda like a hidden-camera interview."
"Yeah! Yeah, that's exactly what it felt like. So Kerri was on the other end?"
"Yup."
"So what do I do next?"
"About what?"
"About Kerri."
"Well, if you want to talk to her, you call her up."
"OK. But what if I don't call her? Am I going to be hurting her feelings or anything like that?"
"Nah! You're taking all this stuff too seriously. They're probably calling up half a dozen guys tonight and asking them the same thing. It's like a phone survey."
"Uh-huh. So what about that Adam guy? The one from the carnival? Is he still going out with her?"
"Hey, what am I? People magazine? I don't know. I don't even see those guys anymore."
"Uh-huh. Well, maybe if you hear something, you can let me know."
"Yeah, yeah. OK. I gotta go eat."
"All right. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Right."
He hung up, and I took a deep breath. I held on to the phone for a long time. I thought about the situation from all different angles and in all different ways. No matter how I looked at it, my conclusion came out the same. One inescapable conclusion: Kerri Gardner knows about my glasses, but she doesn't think there's anything wrong with me.
Wednesday, September 27
The coach wouldn't let Victor practice today because of his stitches. He stomped a
way, threatening to go home and pull them out himself. Once again I got put in in his place. I had a couple of opportunities to score against Shandra, but I didn't.
Victor returned near the end of practice carrying a Super Big Gulp from the 7-Eleven. He stood down in the far goal, where I usually stand, and, as usual, the ball never went there. He started to get on Joey's case, telling him to stop standing around doing nothing. But the coach soon noticed him and told him to get out of there.
After practice I got my bag and started walking with Joey when Victor fell into step behind us. His boys, of course, were right behind him.
"Hey, Fisher Man. Since you're me now, do you want a drink of my Big Gulp?"
"No, thank you, Victor."
"What? You too good to drink outta my Big Gulp?"
"Yes. I am."
Tino, Hernando, and Mano started laughing. Victor smiled and continued. "Hey, Fisher Man, why's this boy always following you around?"
I glanced at Joey. He was looking straight ahead. "I don't know, Victor. Why don't you ask him?"
Victor tapped Joey on the shoulder with his cup. "Hey! Yo! Why are you following Fisher Man around all the time?"
Joey looked upset. He didn't know how to handle this. I smiled to show him that Victor was just messing around, but he wouldn't even look at me. And he wouldn't answer. I knew that things were about to get worse.
Victor tapped him again, a little harder. His voice got a little louder. "Yo! I said, 'Why are you following Fisher Man around all the time?' You his boyfriend or somethin'?"
Joey turned toward him angrily. "No. I'm not."
Victor ignored him and started on me. "Fisher Man, you can't take two steps without this boy followin' you. What's up with that? Is he some kinda fish, maybe? Does he hope you're gonna catch him?"
The boys behind Victor were getting into it now. Victor turned to Tino and said, "Who's that fish your daddy has the picture of? You know, that fish picture that's hangin' up in the hut?"
Tino shook his head. "What are you talking about?"
"Your daddy has that old magazine ad on the wall, makin' fun of Tio Carlos."
Tino thought about it and then yelled out, "Sorry, Charlie!"
"Yeah! Yeah, that's the dude. Sorry, Charlie! Charlie the Tuna. He's always trying to get caught. He's always hanging around trying to get on that hook, right?" He poked Joey again. "Is that you? Are you Charlie the Tuna?"
The boys were laughing wildly now. I spoke in a calm voice to Joey: "Just chill out." But he wouldn't chill out. He was letting it get to him.
Victor kept after him. "Starkist don't want tunas with good taste, Charlie. They want tunas that taste good." The boys were laughing like maniacs now and slapping hands. "Do you understand the difference, my man?"
Joey continued to stare straight ahead, his face red, his jaw clenched. We all reached the green pickup truck, and the boys piled into the back, still laughing about Joey. We continued on through the school. He didn't say a word until we were standing out at the curb.
"So what was that supposed to be? Some kind of initiation or something?"
"Yeah. Yeah, don't take it so seriously. That's just Victor."
"Did he ever mess with you like that?"
"Sure—on the first day I went out for the team."
"And then he stopped?"
"Yeah. Yeah, sure. He stopped."
Joey stared down the street, looking for Mom's car. I didn't have the heart to tell him the rest of it—Victor might stop messing with him, but his name will be Charlie the Tuna from here on out.
Mom pulled up, and Joey hopped into the backseat without a word. I got in the front and noticed that Mom was staring at something ahead of us. She pulled up ten more yards, to where Maya and Nita were standing. She rolled down the window, smiled, and said, "Hello, girls."
Maya smiled back. "Hello. How are you?"
There was an awkward silence until Mom said, "So ... how is it playing against these boys?"
I'm not sure Maya understood the question. She answered, "Oh yes. Some of them are quite good players."
"I think it's great that you have a co-ed team. I really do."
"Thank you."
Mom rolled the window back up and pulled away. I said, "What was that all about?"
"I just wanted to encourage those girls a little."
No wonder Maya seemed confused. I said, "Mom, Maya doesn't need too much encouragement. She's the top scorer in the county. Numero uno. She'll make the All-County Team for sure."
Mom's jaw dropped. "Are you serious? That tall girl—she'll be on the All-County Boys' Team?"
"Yes. So will Shandra, if she doesn't get hurt."
"That's fantastic! Does Mr. Donnelly know about this?"
"Mr. Donnelly?"
"Mr. Donnelly from the Tangerine Times. This should be in the newspaper. Don't you think so, Joey?"
Joey was sulking pretty heavily in the back. I don't think he even heard her. We drove the rest of the way in silence. We turned into the entranceway to Lake Windsor Downs and then onto Joey's street. It was a weird sight. The houses on either side of his were completely covered by huge, bright blue tents. They had signs posted all around them: DANGER—POISON GAS.
Mom tried to make eye contact with him in the rearview mirror. "Joey, why are your neighbors getting their houses tented?"
"They gotta get fumigated," he said. "Fumigated for bugs. We've all got bugs."
"You all do? Your house, too?"
"Yeah. The whole street, I think."
"What kind of bugs?"
"I don't know. Roaches. Termites."
"So are you getting one of these tents put over your house?"
"Yeah. Next week, I think." We pulled into Joey's driveway. I could see the tents better now. They were really big pieces of blue canvas, tied together with ropes to hold in the poison fumes.
Mom said, "How long do you have to stay away when they fumigate?"
"Two days."
"Well, you're welcome to stay with us. You and Paul do everything else together. You may as well sleep together. Right, Paul?"
I thought to myself, Perfect, Mom. The perfect thing to say under the circumstances.
Joey got that upset look on his face again. He muttered, "I don't think so," and went inside.
Mom turned to me. "What's with him? Why wouldn't he want to come to our house?"
I shrugged and said, "I don't know."
But of course I do know. Joey hasn't set foot in our house since the day he met up with Erik and Arthur. He will probably never set foot in it again. But Mom could never understand that. For Joey, our house may as well be covered with canvas and bound by ropes, because it's filled with poison.
Friday, September 29
Joey didn't show up for practice yesterday, but someone else did.
We had been loosening up for about ten minutes. The starters, including Victor, were taking shots at Shandra in the goal. The subs, including me, were kicking a ball around in a circle.
I looked over toward the bus lanes and saw a white van pulling in. It had two high-tech-looking antennas on top—one on the back that looked like a corkscrew, and one in the middle that swiveled.
Anyway, this van kept driving, right off the blacktop and over the grass toward our field. When it got closer, I could see that TANGERINE TIMES was printed on the side. I suddenly got a sick feeling. Mom had actually done it. She had called Mr. Donnelly about our team—or at least about the girls on our team.
The van pulled up next to Betty Bright's car, her 1967 yellow-and-white Mustang. A young guy with long hair and a big camera hanging around his neck jumped out of the driver's side. He set a black leather case down on the back of the Mustang. Mr. Donnelly got out of the other side. He had on a blue suit and carried a small notebook. He walked straight up to the coach, who was on the sideline talking to Dolly. I drifted toward them to hear what they would say.
It was obvious that Mr. Donnelly and Betty Bright knew each other.
She shook hands with him and gave him a big smile. She stopped smiling pretty fast, though, when she saw the long-haired guy's case on her car. She started walking over there just as the photographer closed in on Nita and Maya and started taking pictures.
Mr. Donnelly walked with her, opening his notebook. He said, "I understand that you have a couple of pretty special players on your team this year."
The coach took the photographer's bag and dumped it on the ground. She said, "Uh-huh. And who would that be?"
Mr. Donnelly flipped back a few pages in his notebook. "A girl named Maya and a girl named Shandra? They're both supposed to make the All-County Boys' Team?"
When Dolly heard this she yelled over, "Hey, Shandra! They want to talk to you, girl!"
Shandra had been focused on the shooters all this time. When she heard Dolly she looked over, puzzled. Then she spotted the Tangerine Times van and the long-haired guy with his camera. A look of terror came over her face. She spun around on her heels and sprinted away—right out of the goal, across the field, across the bus lanes, and into the school. Everybody stopped what they were doing and watched her go.
Now that there was no one in goal, Victor walked up to the photographer and announced, "You must be here to interview me. I'm Victor Guzman, the captain of the first-place Tangerine Middle School War Eagles. How do you do?"
The guy looked over at Mr. Donnelly. Then he said, "Excuse me," and tried to get around Victor. But Victor blocked him and added, "You'll probably want to get some action shots of me before you do anything else."
The photographer stared at him dumbly. Then he stepped back and lined up a picture of Victor, who struck a pose and smiled. The camera flashed, and Victor added, "That's Victor Guzman. You know how to spell that? G-U-Z-M-A-N. Don't you go spelling my name wrong, or I'll have to mess you up."
Hernando, Tino, and Mano crowded in front of the photographer next, telling him their names and demanding that he take their pictures. The guy looked over at Mr. Donnelly, who signaled at him to go ahead and do it. Mr. Donnelly said, "Look, Betty, I'm sorry for disrupting your practice. Can I just get the last names of the girls?"