She laughed. “Nice singing voice.”
“I actually kinda liked that one. It was catchy.”
Sarah pointed to a nondescript middle unit with beige siding and a bay window. “That’s my house,” she said.
“It’s just you and your mom, right?”
She raised her eyebrows. “Stalking me?”
“Ben told me that your mom worked in a hair place?”
“It’s a salon. She’s a hair stylist.”
“Do you guys not get along?”
“Did Ben tell you that we don’t?”
“No, I just figured since we never go to your house.”
She smiled. “Ben’s house has better snacks. What about you? We don’t hang out at your house either.”
He nodded. “Ben’s house has better snacks.”
“Uh huh.”
They arrived at a park with swings, a slide, and monkey bars. It was mulched with wood chips. They sat together on the swings. Sarah held onto the chains, rocking back and forth, her legs planted on the mulch. Carter did the same. Sarah turned toward Carter, the chains twisting.
“This is the first time we’ve been together alone, without Ben,” she said.
He nodded. “Did he say anything after I left?”
She exhaled. “I don’t know what his problem is.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“It’ll blow over. He was just mad. He’s been talking about starting on varsity since we were freshmen.”
Carter raised his eyebrows. “What did he say?”
“Carter.”
“Seriously, what did he say?”
She took a deep breath. “He said that I should be careful around you, that you’re violent, that you try to hurt people in practice. I told him that he needed to get a grip.”
Carter closed his eyes for a moment and then stared at the wood chips.
“You okay?” she asked.
He didn’t look up. “He’s right. I do try to hurt people.”
“Why?”
He shrugged and looked up at her. “I like the hitting. Before practice or a game, I feel all agitated, like I’m about to get into a fight. Then during, it’s like I’m in this haze, where everything slows down.”
“What does it feel like?”
“To hit someone?”
She nodded.
“Most of the time I don’t feel anything, at least not right then. Sometimes I hit someone just perfectly, with the right explosion of my legs, and there’s this loud crack of pads that everyone tells me about, but I never hear it when it happens. Then the guy’s on the ground with the wind knocked out of him, or sometimes he’s really hurt, or sometimes he pops up like it was nothing, and I’m hurt.”
“Do most guys like the hitting?”
He shook his head. “They’ll probably say they do, but if you watch closely, you can see the guys that recoil at the last split-second before impact, like they’re bracing themselves. The coaches teach us tackling techniques, but they can’t teach us to hit. Guys are hitters or they’re not.”
“Ben’s not, huh?”
“No.”
She bit the lower corner of her lip. “Why does he play then?”
He shrugged. “Maybe to wear the jersey on Friday. Maybe for popularity. Maybe to get girls. A lot of guys play for the fanfare.”
“Why do you play?” She searched his face.
He smiled. “Definitely for the girls.”
– 5 –
Domination
Across the field, the sideline was silent. The Arlington High School Eagles hung their heads and slouched their shoulders. The sun beat down on their necks. Carter glanced at the scoreboard. He brushed his uniform with his hand. It was crisp and clean. Twenty-eight-nil, ten minutes left in the second quarter. Coach Ware signaled plays to Luke from the sideline. They were about to add another six. Carter stood behind Coach Pitts and Coach Cowan, hoping to catch their eye.
“How long do you wanna keep the starters in?” Coach Pitts asked.
Coach Cowan took off his hat and wiped his brow. “This is a waste of our time. We get a better look in practice from the milky whites. I’d like to at least give ’em until the half.” He placed his Marauders hat back on his head and pulled the brim low.
“We gotta get better preseason games,” Coach Pitts said.
“Nobody wants to play us.”
“I’d like to get Lynch some time with the ones.”
Coach Cowan raised his eyebrows. “Who?”
“Carter Lynch.”
Coach Cowan chuckled. “I thought his last name was Carter.”
Coach Pitts grinned.
“Yeah, next series get him in there. Noah’s complacent.”
Coach Pitts turned around, looking up and down the sideline. “Carter … Carter!”
“Right here, Coach,” Carter said, standing right in front of him.
Coach Pitts grinned with a toothpick in the corner of his mouth. His gray Marauders Football shirt was dark under the armpits. “Right in front of my face,” he said. “If you were a snake, I’d a’ been bit. Next series you’re in for Noah.”
Carter nodded.
Coach Pitts moved closer. He narrowed his eyes. “You know all the signals?”
“Yes.”
“Just do what you been doin’ every day in practice.”
Carter nodded.
Coach Pitts smacked him on the shoulder pads and walked down the sideline.
“Noah!”
Noah was joking with Justin Whitehead by the water coolers. Justin was tall and well-built, with pinkish white skin and a blond crew cut. He wore number fifty-six like his hero.
Noah turned around with a smile. “What’s up, Coach?”
“You’re out. Carter’s in next series.”
Noah’s eyes went wide. He held up his palm. “What, why?”
“I wanna see what he can do with the ones.”
“This is bullshit.” Noah tossed his helmet.
Coach Pitts moved with cat-like speed. He had Noah’s jersey bunched up in his fist. “If I ever see you throw your helmet like that again, you’ll never see the field.”
Noah’s eyes were red.
“Do I make myself clear?” Coach Pitts said.
Noah nodded.
Coach Pitts let go of his jersey. He marched back to Coach Cowan just in time to see Kevin Lewis score on an inside trap. After the extra point, the referee spotted the ball on the twenty.
“Defense,” Coach Pitts called out.
Eleven kids hustled out to the field, Carter and Devin included.
Devin smacked Carter on the helmet. “It’s about time,” he said.
Carter read the signal from the sideline and relayed the play in the huddle. Zach scowled at Carter.
On first down the Eagles took the snap and handed the ball to the tailback. Justin Whitehead crushed the fullback at the line of scrimmage, clogging the hole. The tailback ran into his own player before being swallowed up by Zach and the rest of the defensive line.
Carter looked at Coach Pitts on the sideline. He flashed hand signals. Carter turned to the huddle and relayed the play.
The Eagles lined up with a slot back on the strong side. Justin was lined up on the back. Carter crept over, trying not to tip off the linebacker blitz. Justin glanced back at Carter, making sure he was there. The quarterback took the snap and Justin blitzed. Carter covered the back. Justin was coming fast. The quarterback threw a quick out to the slot off his back foot before being planted into the turf. Despite the pressure, it was a good pass. At the last split-second Carter stepped in front, dove, and deflected the football to the turf – incomplete.
Third and long, they’re gonna throw it. This quarterback doesn’t look you off. He’ll tell you where he’s going with his eyes.
On the snap of the football, Carter backpedaled, reading the quarterback’s eyes. The inside receiver was open on a seam route. The quarterback locked onto the open receiver. Carter
planted and blasted toward the open receiver. The quarterback raised the football to his ear and threw a bullet. The receiver’s head was turned, looking back for the ball as he sprinted downfield. He was blind to the oncoming freight train.
Carter was positioned for the knockout. He was at full speed. The receiver was helpless, unprotected, and the timing was dead on. The ball touched the receiver’s hands for a microsecond before Carter rammed his facemask through the grasping hands of his opponent and crashed into the beleaguered player’s head. He never heard the crack. He didn’t even feel the impact. He was on the ground in a daze, the receiver next to him, still as a statue. He looked asleep. Carter saw Coach Pitts jumping up and down on the sideline. In the distance he saw Devin in the end zone with the football. Carter staggered to his feet. The receiver didn’t move. The referees moved everyone away from the injured player.
Carter jogged to the sideline, shaking the cobwebs from his head. The coaches told the assembled players to take a knee and shut up. He sank to the ground. They looked at him with barely contained smiles.
Justin Whitehead was next to him. He leaned forward and said, “That’s how you fuckin’ hit someone.”
Trainers attended to the player. An ambulance was positioned on the edge of the field. The player lifted his head.
“Thank God,” Coach Cowan said. “That’s the last thing we need.”
“I think he was KO’d,” Coach Pitts said.
“That boy is lethal.”
The trainers helped the player up and walked him to the sideline. Both teams clapped. The head referee walked over to Coach Cowan.
“Coach Wilshire wants to call it,” the ref said. “He said he’s already got three starters injured.”
Coach Cowan rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Well I guess that’s his choice.”
The referee walked to the middle of the field and signaled the end of the game.
“Line up on the fifty,” Coach Cowan said. “Put your helmets on and keep your mouths shut.”
The opposing team was queueing up. The Marauders formed a line on the fifty-yard line. Carter was behind Zach and Justin.
“What the fuck,” Zach said. “They’re quitting? What a bunch of pussies.”
Justin put his right hand down his pants and pulled it out. “They can all touch my fuckin’ sweaty balls.”
After they shook hands, Coach Cowan addressed the team at the near end zone. The players took a knee around the coach.
He said, “That’s how Marauder Football’s played. When you can make an opponent quit and beg for mercy, that’s domination. And that’s what we’re about: domination. And that’s what we have to be about, if we’re gonna reach our goal of back-to-back state titles. We’re gonna see better competition later in the season, but y’all should feel good this weekend, because come Monday, we’re puttin’ our hard hats back on and gettin’ back to work. Next week, it’s for real. Zach, break us down.”
The team stood up, crowded together, and held their helmets high in the sky.
“Back-to-back on three,” Zach said. “One, two, three.”
“Back-to-back!” the team said.
Carter headed past the end zone and over the track, in the direction of the sidewalk. The sun reverberated off the asphalt. Devin walked up next to him.
“Thanks for the present,” Devin said.
“Did you score on that last play?” Carter asked.
Devin laughed. “You didn’t see it?”
“No. I mean I saw you in the end zone, but I didn’t see what happened.”
“The ball popped off your helmet. It hung up in the air forever. It went right to me, and I had a clear run to the end zone.”
“Pick six.” Carter smiled.
“You going to the party tonight?”
Carter scowled. “Zach’s a dick. I really don’t want to be at his house. Or his farm – wherever it is.”
Devin laughed. “You’re not exactly Mr. Nice Guy.”
“What?”
Devin shook his head. “The whole offense hates you, except maybe Kevin.”
“I’m not gonna ease up so guys will like me.”
“I’m not saying you should. I’m just telling you. Even the defensive guys are tired of you flying up and hitting them in the back when there’s a pile.”
Carter took a deep breath. “What do I care? It’s two years and I’m outta here.”
“See, that’s what I’m talking about. Can I be real with you for a minute?”
“Yeah, go ahead.”
“It’s a team sport. It isn’t all about you. I get that you play pissed off. I’m just saying that maybe you should save that up for our opponents.”
Carter nodded, his eyes on the asphalt. “Good point.”
Devin grinned. “You could start being a team player by coming to the party tonight. Dwayne told me it’s the best party of the year. The only guys invited are football players. He said there’s twice as many girls as guys. Last year it got busted by the cops. That’s why they moved it to Zach’s farm. Two hundred girls in the middle of nowhere, no supervision – that doesn’t sound fun to you?”
“I’ll think about it.”
Carter and Devin entered the locker room. Raucous laughter and voices hung in the air. Justin stood in his tighty whities, straddling a broomstick. He held his hand out as if he was grabbing onto an imaginary ass and started thrusting. His face contorted. “Oh yeah, Amber, you like it like that.” He mimed spanking as he thrust his pelvis. “Oh yeah, smack that ass.”
Much of the team laughed and egged him on. Noah sat on the bench quietly, his head down. He was struggling with his shoulder pads. Ben stood at his locker, his uniform spotless, laughing at Justin’s antics. He didn’t look at Carter.
Coach Cowan walked into the room. He stood in the doorway with his arms crossed, scowling at Justin. The laughter slowed and gradually cut out as, one by one, each player spotted their coach. Justin was in mid-thrust when he saw Coach Cowan. His imaginary erection deflated as he pulled the broomstick from between his legs.
Coach Cowan shook his head at Justin. “Boy, you got some problems.” He turned to Carter. “I need to see you in my office.” He looked at Noah. “You too.”
Carter and Noah followed the coach. As soon as they left the locker room, laughter erupted. Coach Cowan stopped at the door to his office.
“Wait here,” Coach Cowan said to Carter.
Noah and the coach entered the office. The door shut. Ten minutes later, Noah emerged with red eyes and slumped shoulders. Coach Cowan stuck his head out.
“Carter, come in here,” he said. “Shut the door behind you.”
Coach Cowan walked behind the dark oak desk and eased into the leather chair. Behind him were shelves loaded with trophies and plaques and signed footballs.
“Have a seat,” Coach said, motioning to the two wooden chairs in front of his desk.
Carter sat down. He still wore his socks, football pants, and sleeveless undershirt. Eye black was smudged under his eyes. Coach Cowan’s dark hair was matted down from the hat that sat on his desk.
“You’re a transfer, right?” Coach asked.
“Yes, sir,” Carter said.
“Where you comin’ from?”
“Panama. Central America, not Florida.”
“That’s a long way.”
Carter nodded.
“Coach Pitts and I like what you been doin’ in practice and in the scrimmages.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“I’m movin’ you up to the first team. This is a big responsibility. Do you understand that?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I mean we already got a proven commodity with Noah. And I don’t like benchin’ a senior, especially one that’s pretty damn good. But dammit, boy, you sure are hard to ignore.”
Carter stared, blank-faced.
Coach Cowan chuckled. “What I’m tryin’ to say is you keep doin’ what you been doin’, you’ll be just fine. If you slack o
ff even one bit, Noah will be there nippin’ at your heels. You get what I’m tryin’ to tell you?”
“I think I understand, Coach.”
Cowan scowled. “You think? There ain’t no time for thinkin’ in this game, you gotta know.”
Carter stared at his coach, his eyes unblinking. “I know I’ll be the best defensive back you’ve ever coached.”
Coach Cowan nodded his head with a grin. “You know what all the best defensive backs have in common?”
“No, sir.”
“Confidence.”
– 6 –
Initiation
The sun was orange and low in the sky. Devin steered the compact car uphill on a gravel road. Carter read the photocopied directions.
“Is this right?” Devin asked.
“According to the directions,” Carter said.
“There’s nothing out here but farms.”
“I think that’s the point.”
At the crest of the hill, they could hear the faint sound of music and a cacophony of voices.
“That’s gotta be it,” Devin said.
Midway down the hill, close to a hundred cars and trucks were parked haphazardly on the pasture in front of the stone farmhouse. Devin pulled into an open spot just off the road. They stepped out of the car. Carter and Devin walked down the road, the volume increasing with each step. Devin’s hair was freshly cut, his fade slanted, with three lines shaved into the side of his head. Carter wore a pair of baggy jeans and a white T-shirt that said Operation Just Cause across the front. He walked with his hands in his pockets.
They passed a couple making out in the back seat of a Buick. Devin slowed down to catch a peek. He glanced at the back of Carter’s shirt as he caught up to his friend.
“Is that a pineapple on your shirt or a man?” he asked, laughing.
Carter grinned, his teeth white and straight. “Both. It’s ol’ pineapple face, Manuel Noriega.”
Zach’s farmhouse had a front porch that spanned the entire length of the building. The metal roof was rusting. A group of teenage girls clustered around a swinging chair attached to the porch roof. They were laughing and talking. A few turned their heads toward them. Devin blushed and gave them a wave. They giggled. He looked down and scowled at his dusty white Nikes.
Initiation Page 5