by Tim Green
He watched her grade it, slashing the wrong answers with her red marker that left a little streak like blood. Finally, she wrote “57%,” circled that in blood, and looked up at him.
“So, I’ll pass the real test though, right?” He was smiling, but when he saw the doubt on her face, it melted. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Danny, you’re doing very well, especially this past week.”
“But?”
“But it’s a lot to expect that you’ll just learn to read fluently and put it all together for the first-marking-period test.”
“I’m doing good, so . . . I don’t get it. If I’m close, you’ll pass me, right?”
She looked at her red marker, then pointed it at herself before pointing it at him. “I won’t pass you or fail you, Danny. You’ll do that. You might pass, but you might not. We’ve been through this.”
Danny pushed his chair back and rose to his feet. “Yeah, but that was a month ago. I’ve been here every day you asked me. I’ve done all the work. I read books. And now you’re saying you’d fail me? What’s wrong with you? I thought we were friends.”
“Danny, I’m your teacher. I like you and I care about you. That’s why it has to be you who does this. No more exceptions.”
“That stinks! You’re . . . you’re just like Coach Kinen.” Danny gathered his things. “I do everything you say and you still stab me in the back!”
“I am not Coach Kinen,” she said, sputtering.
“No. You’re not. At least he said he’d think about it before he sticks it to me. I’ve got a chance with him. But not you. You’re the reading police. I gave you everything I have, now just line me up and shoot me. Can I have a blindfold? Will you give me that?” Danny grabbed his backpack and raced out of the house.
He was nearly to the center of town when Ms. Rait pulled up beside him in her car and rolled down the window. “Please get in, Danny. I told your mom I’d drive you home.”
Danny burned inside with the desire not to get into her car. He did not want to give her anything, but he knew better than to overdo it on his foot this last week. He got in, determined not to say a word.
“Thank you,” she said, and began to drive.
Danny didn’t have to worry about talking because Ms. Rait wasn’t either, until she pulled into his driveway. “I’ll be ready for you from six to seven tomorrow. If you come, fine. If not, that’s your call. The final is in two weeks, so you’re running out of time.”
He got out and shut the door.
Danny went to Ms. Rait’s house after practice the next day. He wasn’t going to let her say he didn’t do his part. If she failed him, it wasn’t going to be because he quit. He knew that’s what his dad would have told him, so he did as she asked, but he made no small talk. He didn’t ask about her cat or the kittens.
Wednesday night, he woke up screaming. He’d dreamed about the last run with his dad, only in the dream his dad lay there begging Danny for help. Danny stood there, willing his legs to run with every fiber he had, but he couldn’t force them to move.
Danny’s mom rushed into the room and held him until he stopped screaming and just cried. She told him it was okay, and even heavy with sadness, he remembered Mr. Crenshaw’s words and knew that it was okay.
Thursday’s game was slow torture. He rode with the team on the bus to Millerton, his mind blank while everyone around him wound themselves into a frenzy. He sat on the bench, still elevating his foot, but he couldn’t avoid seeing Markle go on a romp through the Millerton defense. At one point, Bug appeared and asked Danny to hand him the water bottle resting beside him.
Bug didn’t mean anything by it, he was just Bug, but it made Danny feel like a water boy. The ride home was worse. The team chanted Markle’s name as he led the cheer like a band director, standing in the middle of the bus. Even Cupcake joined in until he saw Danny glaring at him.
Cupcake shrugged and silently mouthed, “Sorry.”
Danny stayed quiet as Herman drove him and Cupcake into town. When they pulled into Rait’s driveway, Cupcake spun around from the front seat to address Danny. “Hey, bro. It’s all gonna be beef. You’ll come back next week and light the world on fire. You’ll pass your test and play in the big game. This is all gonna seem like some bad barley dream that’s over.”
Danny’s hand stopped on the door handle and he paused a beat before he looked Cupcake in the eye. “I seriously doubt any of that will happen.”
Danny enjoyed the shock on his best friend’s face. “Even if the doctor clears me and even if Coach Kinen gives me a chance to win my job back, I’m on track to fail Rait’s test and I’ll be ineligible for the big game anyway.”
“Bro, you’ve been here every day. You’re barely on Xbox anymore. You know she’s gonna pass you.” Cupcake smiled like it was a joke between them.
“No. She’s not.” Danny didn’t wait to continue the discussion. He got out, thanked Herman, and marched into Rait’s house as he heard them pull away.
The next day his mom picked him up after school and took him to the doctor’s. They were shown directly into a waiting room without an MRI this time.
“Please take off your shoe and sock,” said the nurse who showed them in.
Danny did as he was told. He wiggled his toes and forced a smile at his mom.
Dr. Severs came in after about a half hour.
“So, how’s it feeling?” The doctor picked up Danny’s foot and immediately put strong pressure on the injured bone.
The way his life was going, Danny was ready for pain, but it didn’t come. “Fine.”
The doctor held the foot, squeezing harder and searching Danny’s face. Danny thought of his dad and his old-school toughness. He’d made it another way. Maybe listening to the doctor’s advice—no matter how hard it had been—was new-school toughness. He smiled until the doctor let go.
“Well, it looks good to me.” Dr. Severs typed some notes on his laptop. “Keep an eye on it, though. Any pain or swelling and I want to know about it. Got it?”
“Yes, sir.” Danny pulled on his sock. He couldn’t stop grinning. “Uh, Doctor, could you call Coach Kinen for me and tell him I’m good to go?”
“I’ll send him an email.” The doctor looked down at his computer and began to type again. “And good luck, Danny. I’m taking my two boys to the championship. I’m assuming you’ll be there. We’ll be rooting for you.”
The doctor looked up and smiled.
Danny couldn’t bring himself to say that he had no idea if he’d even play.
Saturday’s football practices were when the coaches installed the game plan for their upcoming opponents. Danny got there early and found Coach Kinen in his office making his final notes on the five-by-seven cards where he drew the plays. He put the marker down and pointed to the chair beside his desk.
“Have a seat, Danny.”
Danny didn’t like the look on his coach’s face. He could feel the bad news.
“Coach, I—”
Coach Kinen held up his hand. “Danny, I’ve given this a lot of thought. I can’t make a decision until I see how you look. Maybe you’re going to be right where you left off. I don’t think so. It’s almost impossible for a running back to take six weeks off and just hit the ground running.”
Danny wanted to remind Coach Kinen that he wasn’t just any runner. He was Danny Owens, the guy everyone worshipped after the opening game, but he saw that his coach didn’t intend to listen.
“So we’ll see how you look running around out there today, and if you look good, when I get the chance, I’ll try and get you a few live reps with the second team.”
“Second?” Danny knew that reps with the second team meant a line that wasn’t as good and a backup quarterback who was a far cry from Jace, who ran the offense like a Swiss watch. It would mean quick closing holes, if he had any opening at all, and a quarterback whose timing and handoffs were rarely smooth.
Coach Kinen gave him a look of sur
prise. “You didn’t expect to take reps from Markle, did you? You saw the game Thursday. You were there. He’s been pretty amazing.”
Danny wanted to remind his coach that he’d been amazing too, and that, yes, he did want some of Markle’s reps. How could he compete running only with the second team? But he said nothing. The look on Coach Kinen’s face told him he couldn’t.
“Okay, Coach.”
“I’m surprised by your reaction, Danny.” The coach frowned. “I thought you’d be excited for the chance.”
Danny swallowed and responded right away. “Yes, sir. I am. Thank you, sir.”
Coach Kinen smiled and leaned back so that his chair squeaked. “Well, that’s okay. You’re a good kid and I know next year you’re gonna do great things for us.”
Danny’s insides chilled. Coach Kinen didn’t want him to have a spectacular performance in the big game. He didn’t want Danny to be selected for the varsity like his father before him had been. He wanted a star running back on his team next year. Danny stood up with his limbs trembling and left the coach’s office.
He dressed in silence and walked out to the field before most guys even arrived at the locker room. He got down in a two-point stance with a football and started to blast his way through the gauntlet machine. But after six weeks away, his timing was off. The arms in the cage battered his upper and lower body, causing unexpected pain. Confused, Danny tumbled down inside the machine, cursing aloud. Panic filled him and he looked toward the locker room to make sure no one had come out early enough to see him. They hadn’t, and he struggled to his feet. He had to worm his way out of the gauntlet because the only way to get through it clean was to hit it running and not stop.
He’d just freed himself from the machine when he saw Jace and Duval Carmody exit the locker room and head toward the field. Instead of trying again, he ran through the ropes, lifting his knees high. It hurt, but it didn’t trip him up. He should have done it first. It got his legs moving and warm.
“Hey, Danny,” Jace called, “come catch with us.”
“Sure.” Danny swelled with pride to have Jace treat him this way, and he hustled over to work with them while Jace loosened his arm.
“So you’re back.” Jace gunned a pass at Duval, who snatched it from the air before tucking it under his arm briefly and then passing it back to Danny.
Danny caught the ball and handed it to Jace. “Yeah. Not with the first team, though.”
“Really?” Jace stopped and looked at him before passing it to Duval again. “Well, Markle has looked pretty good. I still think you’re better.”
“Thanks, Jace. I wish you were the coach.”
“I’ll talk to him.”
Danny caught Duval’s pass. “To Coach Kinen?”
“He listens to me sometimes.” Jace accepted the ball, spun it to find the laces, and rifled it to Duval.
Danny didn’t know, but certainly there was a chance that Jace could make a difference.
Practice began and Danny gave everything he had. He was in high gear when he went through agilities, running like his life depended on it while the others moaned and groaned, still sore from Thursday’s game. Danny didn’t care about the dirty looks from his teammates that told him to back down because he was making everyone look like loafers. That’s what he wanted.
When Coach Kinen led them to the gauntlet, Danny jumped to the front of the line. He stared at the stiff arms, waiting to make him look like a fool, and took a deep breath. He wondered if jumping to the front had been a mistake, but before he could have another thought, Coach Kinen blew his whistle.
Jace said, “Set, hut!”
Danny leapt forward, took the handoff from Jace, and hit the machine. He burst through the arms with his legs pumping like the pistons of a race car. He came out the other side, circled the manacle, and tossed the ball to his coach like it was no big deal, even though it was.
As practice went on, he felt himself getting better and more confident. He felt certain Coach Kinen saw how well he was doing. You’d have to be blind not to, and it made Danny oh-so-hungry to get that ball in his hands during a live drill.
After a water break, Coach yelled for an inside run. Danny got giddy. It would be his first shot to really show what he could do. He raced over to the drill, arriving first in case Coach decided to reward him for his great effort so far.
He didn’t.
Coach called for the first offense, and they began a steady pounding of the mostly second-team defense. Danny shifted from foot to foot, stretching his legs to keep them fresh and wondering if Jace had forgotten what he’d said before practice.
After Markle’s seventh carry in eight plays, Jace jogged over to Coach Kinen and had some private words.
Danny’s muscles tightened.
Danny watched Coach Kinen’s face change colors as it twisted into a snarl.
“What do you think? This is a democracy!?”
Jace’s face fell. He wagged his head. “No, Coach.”
“So get out of my face!” Coach Kinen swung his arm up, pointing for Jace to go. “Maybe we should take a vote on quarterback! Maybe Bug should be our Q-One! I know his momma’d be happy!”
Coach Kinen’s eyes darted toward Danny next, and Danny felt the sting before he cast his eyes to the ground.
He didn’t get a single rep with the first team. He didn’t get one with the second team, either. And, as practice ended with cross-field sprints, the ache in Danny’s heart had him lagging behind.
Not that anyone cared.
“So, how was your weekend?” Mr. Crenshaw looked up from his desk, where he was reading a book that Danny sounded out as Master and Commander.
Danny sat down on the couch and took out the Playaway as well as a paperback copy of Maniac Magee. Then he got right to it. “Do you believe in heaven and the other place?”
Mr. Crenshaw put his book down. “You went to church? Nice.”
“No. My weekend was the other place.”
“So, bad?”
“Maybe worse,” Danny said. “And she didn’t help matters.”
“‘She’ is either your mom, Janey Kurtz, or Ms. Rait.”
“Your girlfriend, and her test.”
Mr. Crenshaw looked at him blankly.
Danny huffed. That was Mr. Crenshaw’s go-to whenever Ms. Rait came up—a blank face. “Ms. Rait.”
Danny told him the story of yet another practice test he’d failed, how he’d studied English instead of going to the bonfire, and the disaster of Saturday’s practice.
“That’s tough. Coach Kinen’s a tough customer.” Mr. Crenshaw moved to the chair facing the couch across the low table where the checkerboard now lay.
“You know him?” Danny asked.
“Faculty meetings. Also, when you were sent to see me, he worked me over pretty good about helping you, so I know he’s on your side.”
“Was on my side,” Danny said. “Everyone was until I got hurt. Now, it’s like I’m nothing.”
“Your real friends don’t think that.” Mr. C moved a checker to kick off a game. “I don’t think that.”
Danny looked at the piece and shook his head. “No, thanks. I’m tired of games.”
Mr. Crenshaw raised an eyebrow. “Some people say life’s a game.”
“Well, there you go. I’m sick of that game too. I’m sick of losing.”
Mr. Crenshaw sat back in his chair. “Come on, Danny. That’s not like you, talking about losing, down on yourself. Life is full of challenges and obstacles. It’s about how we respond when we get knocked down. If someone tackled you on the field, I can’t believe you’d stop playing. You’d get up, take that guy’s number, and run over him the next time, right?”
Danny frowned. “I can’t get on the field. That’s the problem. I’m not gonna get the chance to knock anyone down unless I push someone and they trip over the bench.”
“Things change, Danny. We never know what tomorrow holds.” Mr. C pointed at the book beside Danny
on the couch. “I bet you didn’t think you’d be able to read just a few weeks ago.”
Danny looked down at the book and snorted. “When I saw the cover I sounded it out as ‘man-i-ack.’ I had no idea what a man-i-ack was. Then I turned on the Playaway and ta-da! It’s ‘mane-ee-ack.’ How does an ‘i’ make an ‘ee’ sound? The only thing that’s a bigger mess than my life is the English language.”
It was a rough week for Danny. He felt like he was spinning his wheels with the whole reading project. The new material was really difficult, and he seemed to be going backward on the material he’d already learned and thought he knew. Ms. Rait was down on him and warned him several times that he wouldn’t pass unless he made more progress. And at football practice, things actually got worse. He’d stopped trying as hard at the individual drills because Coach Kinen wouldn’t even look at him, let alone put him in for some live action.
Then Thursday happened.
Danny stood in the pouring rain. Drops of water rolled down his helmet, spattering off the rubber-coated metal facemask and wetting his face with a fine mist. He and the rest of the scrubs were huddled together on the sideline, like Cupcake’s cows on a frosty winter’s night.
This game at Layton Forks was supposed to be in the bag. The team was the doormat of Jericho County football and the only thing between Crooked Creek and the big game. It was late in the third quarter, and if Danny were to be totally honest, he’d have to admit that he didn’t care that the scoreboard read HOME 13, VISITORS 0 through the misty wet. Thinking back to the week of practice, he’d heard Coach Kinen scolding the team for goofing off and not taking Layton Forks seriously, which they hadn’t.
At the time, Danny couldn’t have cared less. He’d been too busy licking his own wounds. And now, it was nearly enjoyable to watch Coach Kinen’s purple-faced tirade at Markle for fumbling the ball no less than three times in the wet, muddy slop. After Markle’s fourth fumble, Danny crossed his arms and moved closer to the show. A small spark in his mind hinted at a change in the running back position.