Todd Goes for the Goal

by Stuart A. P. Murray

  Todd flushed. His father said he should remember they were moving only twenty miles away.

  “Anyway, Ross Corners has a very good coach these days,” he added.

  Todd just shrugged.

  Mr. Benson said, “And the coach told me they’re expecting a Brazilian exchange student—a guy who plays club soccer at home.”

  That got Todd’s attention. And something else did, too.

  “You mean you know their coach?”

  “Comes into the greenhouse sometimes. New in town. Was a top-notch college player. Midfielder. Took a lot of coaching courses. Plans to coach at the college level one day. His name is Jim Godwin—”

  “Geez, Dad, you got it all figured out already.” Todd was surprised to hear all this. “Anything else I should know?”

  “Yes, he was quite impressed with you today.”

  Todd was startled to hear that the Ross Corners coach had said that to his father.

  “You say that we’re moving there?”

  “Not yet, of course.”

  “Hope he doesn’t want his players to be floppers,” Todd grumbled and then remembered that elbow he’d used. “And, oh man, I hope he doesn’t think I intentionally. …”

  “No,” Mr. Benson chuckled. “He saw the whole play. Even if your elbows were not where they should’ve been.”

  Todd could overhear Betsy’s voice from the other room. “It’s a secret, Amanda. I can’t say! No, not even to you.”

  She was on the phone with Amanda Weatherly, Melanie’s younger sister. They were best friends. As Betsy kept saying she had to keep a secret, Todd sighed.

  “No way she’ll keep it quiet about us moving, Dad. Mel will be the first one in high school to know about it.”

  Mr. Benson said they should wait and see.

  “Meanwhile, you play well enough so they have to keep you on varsity this season, even if next year you’ll be with another team.”

  “The enemy,” Todd mumbled.

  “What’s that?”

  “I’ll become the enemy. That’s how they’ll think of me here. Coach Jaynes told me during the game to think of Ross Corners as the enemy. I’ll be Highfield’s number-one enemy.”

  For once, Mr. Benson didn’t have a ready reply. Just then, Todd heard Betsy say, “You have a secret, too? What? Tell me. He did? Gates? Gates asked Melanie to the junior-senior prom?”

  Todd felt cold hearing that. What could he do? Gates was a cool-guy junior. Todd was just a freshman. Freshmen and sophomores didn’t even go to the prom unless they were invited as a date. Todd tried to listen to the rest of Betsy’s conversation, but his father cleared his throat loudly and stood up.

  Instead of giving more advice, Mr. Benson took a deep breath and patted his son’s leg in encouragement.

  Todd winced a bit as his father touched a tender bruise. He tried not to show the pain, though, just the way he’d try not to show the pain of leaving Highfield. Or of Mel going to the prom with Gates.

  A couple of weeks went by, and nobody else seemed to know about Todd and his family moving to Ross Corners—not even Will or Melanie. As Mr. Benson advised, Todd concentrated on soccer. He played his hardest in games, worked his hardest at practice, and made himself an important starter.

  Todd tried not to think about leaving Highfield. It was exciting to be on a winning team. Todd scored goals, but most of the Highfield wins came because Will was such a great goalie. He and Todd still worked out together in their spare time. They enjoyed pushing each other to get better.

  Will was losing weight, and he could jump higher. Working out with Will made Todd better, too—especially placing that high ball in the far corner. Otherwise, the ball hardly ever got past Will. It seemed to stick to his hands. He always was in the right place to make even the toughest saves look easy.

  Rudy and Gates still called Todd “Obeey,” because he refused to flop. They didn’t try to rough him up at practice anymore because he was learning how to deal with it. Todd gave as well as he took. He felt more confident and even stronger. Plus, he became the team’s leading scorer, with eight goals in six games. Gates had only five for the whole season. And he was jealous.

  Gates still tried to charm Melanie. Because Rudy lived next door to her and was a childhood friend, Gates spent a lot of time there, too. Especially when Melanie was home. Todd learned this from Betsy, of course.

  Chapter Six

  Melanie

  As it turned out, Melanie actually learned the Benson secret from somebody else. And it wasn’t Betsy spilling the secret to Amanda. Even Betsy had managed to keep quiet about it. Melanie found out in a way that Todd never imagined she would.

  It happened one afternoon, late in October, when the weather was sunny and cold. Tennis season was almost over, but the Highfield girls were in the state tournament. They practiced every day, even when the weather was cold.

  As he often did, Todd passed by the courts just to say hello to Melanie. He didn’t care that she was going to the prom with Gates. Todd still thought she was one of the nicest people in Highfield. She always had a smile and a friendly word for him.

  Todd felt bad to be keeping his secret from her. Well, she’d know soon enough. Soccer was almost over—a couple weeks of state tournament games to go. Then everybody would find out.

  Melanie practiced her stroke by hitting tennis balls against the wall. As usual, he found a way to start a brief conversation with her. Generally, it was about Amanda—or what Betsy last told him about Amanda. Melanie would usually say something about what Amanda had told her about Betsy. It was a casual conversation, but they both seemed to enjoy it.

  “Hey, Mel. Amanda still trying to give your cat a bath?” Todd asked, as he walked over to greet her.

  “She actually did it yesterday! Got a few scratches, but she’s determined. I hear Betsy has a plan to one-up her.”

  “How so?”

  “Wants to give her brother a bath!”

  “Right.”

  “Water balloons.” She whacked a serve.

  “I’ll be ready for her. She can’t keep anything secret.”

  “Not from me, she can’t,” Melanie said, “especially about you.”

  Todd didn’t care for the sound of that.

  “Like what,” he asked. “What secret?”

  “Oh, about all the girls you like.” She hit another.

  “Girls? I don’t like a lot of girls. Hey, I’m just a freshman.”

  “So?”

  “What girls are interested in a freshman? Girls are interested in … juniors. You should know, right?”

  “Meaning?” She was holding the ball out for a serve but stopped before tossing it. “Well?”

  Todd knew he’d gone too far, but there was no stopping now.

  “Well, like, you’re going to the prom with a junior, with Gates.”

  “What?” Melanie tossed the ball, took a whack at it, and rattled it off the frame. “Who told you that? Betsy?”

  “Hey, sorry I mentioned it. I have to get to practice, Mel. Forget it.”

  But she was already busting through the gate confronting him, hands on hips. Boy was she pretty. Todd thought he would melt.

  “Just joking, Mel.”

  “Well, Mr. Joker, I’m not going to the prom with Gates. I want to go with … with the person I want to go with … even if he’s a freshman.”

  That was when Todd realized she meant him. He swallowed hard and tried to talk but was tongue-tied.

  Melanie had the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen. She was saying she’d wait until he was a junior, and then go with—

  “Oh, no.” He remembered what she didn’t know yet.

  “What?” She stepped back. “Why say oh, no? Don’t you? …”

  “Yes … I mean, no, I mean I won’t … I won’t be here—at Highfield then, or even before then.”

  That was when he told Melanie everything. Behind his words were his feelings for her. And that’s how she learned that Todd was movi
ng away. Tears came to her eyes.

  “Yo, Mel, what’s up?” Gates and Rudy appeared, swaggering along the path.

  Melanie turned away, back to the tennis, and started serving, harder than ever. None of her serves went in, though. In fact, not one even got over the net.

  “Hey, Obeey, what’d you just say to her?” Rudy asked.

  Todd swung to face him and growled, “Call me that again and I’ll kick your butt, Rudy!”

  Rudy was startled but not worried. It was Gates who cackled.

  “You gonna let him talk like that to you, man?”

  Rudy was confused at first, and then anger started coming.

  Gates said, “I can’t believe you’re gonna let this—”

  “Stop it!” Melanie shrieked.

  “Yeah, stop it.” That was Will. “Back off, unless you want to call Todd names yourself, Gates.”

  Todd was ready for Gates to dare insult him. There was a long, tense silence. Gates turned pale, his mouth working. But Rudy and Will weren’t backing off.

  Melanie saved the day. “Please, I’m asking you all to stop! Please!”

  Gates bobbed his head. “Okay, Mel, for you.”

  Gates and Rudy left, and Todd’s heart pounded with anger. Melanie was anxious, eyes wide. Will, though, was calm as ever, and grinning.

  “Off we go to practice, Pelé. Then you can kick their butts on the field.” He winked at Melanie. “How could you ever go to prom with that dufus?”

  “What? I am not!” Mel protested. “How did you know he asked me?”

  Will laughed.

  “Gates told me he was going to get you to go with him. Bet me five bucks. Now I know you refused, and I can collect from him.”

  Todd tried not to laugh. So did Melanie. But they both did.

  Then they became serious again. They were thinking about Todd moving away. Will, still chuckling, noticed something was wrong.

  “Hey, what’s up with you guys? You seem …”

  Will shut up when he saw Melanie had tears in her eyes. She went back to the tennis as Todd told his friend the news.

  “Doom and gloom!” Will gasped. “Highfalutin’ Highfield to rustic Ross Corners?” He tried to grin and be easygoing, as usual. “But you’re just getting warmed up here, bro, you’re just getting started—”

  “I know.” Todd glanced at Melanie unhappily whacking the ball against the wall, over and over. “Believe me, I know.”

  Chapter Seven

  The Rockets

  The Highfield boys varsity soccer season didn’t end the way Coach Jaynes had planned it. They didn’t win the state championship. But it was even worse than that. Will injured his left ankle in one of the early state tournament games. When Will had to leave the game, Highfield became just a good team, not a great one. They scored twice, but the other team scored three times.

  Will was miserable. His lower left leg was put in a Velcro-wrapped brace to protect the muscles and ligaments.

  Although he could walk on it after a week or so, Will could hardly joke about his injury or toss out one of his wacky phrases. Except once in a while, Todd heard him grumble under his breath, “Ye gods, it stings.”

  Todd wasn’t sure whether Will meant his injury hurt so much or that it might shoot down his hopes for a college soccer scholarship. Probably both, said Melanie, who worried about her cousin being so unhappy.

  A couple weeks after the injury, Melanie sent Todd an instant message. “W’s crushed more than anybody on the team.”

  “I know,” Todd replied. “Next year’s W’s last chance.”

  “2 bad u won’t b on the team.”

  “No, I’ll b buried in rustic R.C. Invisible.”

  “U’ll do well.”

  “Thnxs. And I’ll be the N-M-EE.”

  “LoL. Not to Will. Or me.”

  “Not u! Good. Will, tho.”

  Melanie didn’t reply to that. She said Rudy had just dropped in.

  “Wants to watch a Man U. game on my laptop.”

  “Gates, too?”

  “Naturally. Gotta go. Amanda’s washing the cat again.”

  Todd knew Melanie’s father was a longtime friend of Rudy’s father. Rudy had been a friend of Melanie’s since childhood. He often watched sports on the Weatherly television or Mel’s new laptop. Too bad Gates showed up with him.

  So, the Highfield boys’ soccer season ended with a dull thud. Or, as Will put it when he started to feel better, “Not with a bang, but a whimper.” Some poetry reference. As for Todd, he’d been high scorer, with thirteen goals. But Coach Jaynes never thanked him or wished him good luck.

  “At least he didn’t call me the enemy yet,” Todd told Will. “But I guess I always will be to Rudy and Gates.”

  “Forsooth, you will be, sport.”

  A few weeks later, on a Saturday afternoon in December, Todd and Will took the Benson pickup loaded with moving boxes to the farmhouse at Ross Corners. The Bensons had already begun moving some of their belongings. Will could drive, because his right leg was fine.

  “Hey, Benson, about next season.” He looked over at Todd and gave a confident smile. “I’ll be covering that far corner whenever you show up in front of my goal.”

  Todd had to chuckle. Then it hit him hard to think he’d have to score against Will when they met on the field. Todd felt bad thinking about scoring on his friend. It was only fun scoring on him when they practiced together.

  Todd said, “Strange to think about playing against you, man.”

  “Don’t worry, Pelé,” Will teased. “By fall, I’ll be fifteen pounds lighter, and you won’t float anything over my head.”

  “Ross Corners only plays defense, not much offense,” Todd said. “Fat chance I’ll have to make you look. …”

  “Good?” Will countered. “Make me look good saving your best stuff?”

  Todd was going to say “bad” and normally would have tossed out that sort of wisecrack. But he held back. Making Will look bad was the last thing he wanted to do.

  He looked out the window, trying not to think of what would happen if and when he had to score on Will in a game. He wanted Will to win the state tournament, to get that scholarship. …

  “Well, Pelé? Make me look good?”

  “Lucky,” Todd replied. “Make you look lucky, what else?”

  “Forsooth, sport.” Will laughed in that hearty way of his. “Goalies need luck, like Napoleon said—or was that about generals?”

  Todd hadn’t heard Will laugh like that for weeks. He was glad to see his friend recovering from the injury and the disappointment.

  Winter passed, and spring arrived. So did the club soccer season. The Bensons planned to move to Ross Corners by mid-summer. That meant Todd could play one more season with the Rockets, Highfield’s under-nineteen traveling team. He’d heard in a text message from Melanie that Coach Jaynes had told the traveling team’s coach not to let Todd play.

  Only Highfield players should be allowed on the Rockets, Jaynes had said. The Rockets coach ignored Jaynes.

  “Ur 2 good,” Melanie wrote. “Rockets coach wants u even if u r Coach J’s N-M-EE.”

  Though he was the youngest player in the entire U-19 league, Todd’s ability to score goals made him a starter with the Rockets. The team had mostly Highfield juniors and seniors (including Gates and Rudy) and a few college freshmen. Although the club league was tougher than high school, the Rockets still won all their games.

  They played their last game of the season on a steamy summer’s day. It was a home game against the newly formed traveling team from Ross Corners. The Rockets wore purple, Ross Corners red and black.

  Playing up front, Todd hardly got the ball because Gates and Rudy seldom passed it to him. When he did get it, he almost dribbled through the entire defense. But three times he was stopped by that big defender, Jerry Spane. Gates and Rudy were upset.

  “Pass the ball!” Gates yelled after Todd lost it for the third time.

  “Stop piddling wi
th it!” somebody shouted.

  That was Coach Jaynes, standing under a tree.

  “Yeah!” Rudy chimed in. “Stop piddling with the ball!”

  He and Gates were getting frustrated that they couldn’t score. They took their anger out on Todd. He was steaming at all their comments. Still, he kept his emotions under control. He figured the best way to shut them all up was to score.

  But it wasn’t easy. The defense was tough, and there was one new guy on the Ross Corners team, Giorgio. He was short and fast, with muscular legs. He seemed to cover the whole field with ease. He almost scored twice.

  At halftime, Mr. Benson came over to where Todd was sitting. Sloshing water over his face, he attempted to cool down. But the heat was intense. Todd was exhausted, though there was another half to go.

  “Makes you tired when they stop your dribble.” Mr. Benson knew, since he’d been a striker in his college days. “But you’ll crack them next half.”

  “Next half? That Giorgio guy’s got the ball all the time. Man, can he dribble.”

  “He is Brazilian,” Mr. Benson said. “He’s the exchange student. He’ll be on your new team come fall.”

  “Odds bodkins!”

  That was Will, sitting nearby. His leg was almost fully healed, but he couldn’t play games yet. He was doing a lot of running and weight training. For sure, he’d be lighter and stronger next season.

  Someone spoke to Todd from behind. “Mind if I make a suggestion, young man?”

  This was a familiar face, a handsome fellow in his thirties, in a T-shirt and shorts. He’d been standing with Mr. Benson all game. Now he leaned over to Todd.

  “Make the ball do the work, Todd. Don’t dribble into the defense. But when you see an opening, push it past the defenders—right between them.”

  “Then use your speed,” Mr. Benson added.

  “Pretend you’re going to dribble and pull them toward you,” said the other man. “Then, when they come, push it and take off.”

  The whistle blew for the second half to begin. The other man moved away, and Todd asked his father who he was.