He nodded. “Six years.”
My line stiffened just then and I felt a tug on the pole. “I think I’ve got one!” I whispered, my heart starting to pound.
He glanced at my line and the pole. “You sure have! Pull it up, then reel ‘er in!”
I did, and out of the water squirted a fish about a foot long, its tail whipping every which way.
“Great work, Sean!” Clint cried. “You caught yourself a trout!”
I reeled it in and he showed me how to remove the hook from its throat. Then he slipped it on the stringer, secured one end of it to the dock, and dropped the end with the trout on it into the water.
“My first fish!” I shouted. “I can’t believe it!”
“Believe it,” Clint said, grinning. “I’m your witness.”
We sat there for another fifteen minutes before I got another nibble. But this time no fish. A few minutes later Clint landed one — he said it was a bass.
“We keep this up we’ll have enough fish for both of us,” he said.
His words hit me like a cannon shot. I guess I must have shown it because he turned to me and asked, “What’s the matter? You are going to take home some fish if we catch a few, aren’t you?”
“I … I hadn’t thought about it,” I said. My insides felt like a tight banjo string for a second.
“You didn’t tell your parents you were going fishing with me, did you?”
I took a deep breath and shook my head.
“I thought so,” he said. “I thought it was strange that you wanted me to pick you up at the mall instead of at your house. You didn’t sound quite like yourself, either. What’s wrong? Didn’t your parents want you to go fishing with me?”
“My mom didn’t,” I admitted. “My dad didn’t say a word.”
Then I told him how my dad didn’t care about me, how my mom was so overprotective of me that I lost my cool at times, and how Carl and I couldn’t get along. When I was finished I felt as if a ten-ton weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Clint was the first and only person I’d been able to confide in about my problems.
“Don’t worry. It’ll work out,” he said simply.
Sure, I thought. But when?
“Sometimes you just have to wait things out,” Clint said, as though he’d read my mind.
Before the two hours were up we had caught five fish, and I’d had more fun than I could remember having in years.
But by the time we decided to pack it in, I was thinking about a lot more than fish. Crazy thoughts, about Clint. He was my size, he was a wrestler, and he had been in the navy. Was it just a coincidence that he had taken an interest in me, or was there some other reason behind it? Maybe he wanted to make up for lost time… maybe Clint Wagner was my real father.
But why wouldn’t he come out and say so? Why would he change his name? And why hadn’t he come back before this?
There was only one answer: he was ashamed of his past.
I almost asked him straight out, but I was afraid to. He might say no to keep me from knowing the truth, because of what he used to be: a drunk. He might say no because he was afraid I might want to see him more often, and, if I did, it would cause trouble between Mom and my stepfather. Or he might say no because I was wrong about him. Still, the evidence suggested…
No, I decided not to ask him now. Maybe I would sometime, because I had to know. But not now.
“Almost forgot,” Clint said, reeling in his line. “I wanted to show you a couple of moves and holds before we leave. Okay? I learned them way back when I was in the navy, but they’re still some of the best.”
“Sure,” I said.
We carried the poles to shore. Then he stood in front of me and put his hands on my shoulders. “I want you to remember something,” he said. “Pins are great, but most matches are won on points. Sure you aim for a pin, but work on the moves and the holds that could get you there. If you don’t get the pin, you’ll at least get some points. You get what I’m saying?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“Good. Okay. One of the best moves I learned in the navy was the double leg tackle. Here’s the way it’s done, so watch and listen closely.”
While he showed me the moves, working slowly, he explained them carefully, as if he wanted me to remember them the first time. “Stand in open position,” he said, “with your right foot slightly in front of you.” He was talking as if he were in my position. “Then shoot your right knee between your opponent’s legs, duck your head under his left armpit, and grab his thighs. Then quickly step forward with your left foot, straighten up, lift him, spin on your right knee, and drive him to the mat.”
He went on explaining, and I listened as hard as I could. He went over it again and again. Then I took his place and went through the motions, and I realized that it was easier each time.
“You’ve got it,” Clint declared, a pleased tone in his voice. “You’ve got it, kid. All you need is practice, and you’ll be an expert with the double leg.”
I promised I’d practice it often. There was at least one guy I was anxious to try it on.
I thanked him, and we shook hands before getting into the car. I hated to leave, because I’d had so much fun, and because I dreaded facing my mother. If she discovered the truth, she’d never trust me again. “You’re not only a bum, you’re a stinking liar!” she’d cry.
“What’re you going to tell your mother?” Clint asked, proving again that he and I were on the same wavelength.
I stared at the street ahead, but saw nothing except the jumbled thoughts in my head. “I … I don’t know,” I said. I was confused, worried. One minute I blamed myself for lying to Mom, the next minute I blamed her for being so down on me.
“Tell her the truth,” Clint said. “You’ll feel better. She might rake you over the coals, but then again she might not. She might have second thoughts about chewing you out, and realize it’s not all your fault. I’d give her that chance if I were you.”
His words cleared up the jumble in my head like a fan clears up smoke. “Thanks, Mr. Wagner,” I said, feeling relieved. “I was wondering what to do. You’re right. I should tell her the truth. And I will.”
I thought of the fish. “Will you take the fish?” I asked him. “I hate to think of what she’ll say, or do, if she saw…”
“I understand.” He nodded. “I’ll take ’em. There’s a family next door to me with four kids. And they all love fish.”
“Great,” I said.
A few minutes later he stopped in front of the house. I got out, thanked him again, and headed for the kitchen door. When Mom saw me she gave me a look that would’ve shriveled a shark.
“I saw you get out of that car,” she said icily. “Where were you?”
I sat down and, my heart beating like thunder, I told her.
Her face turned cherry red. “You what?” she exclaimed. Her voice could’ve shattered glass. “You went fishing? In spite of my telling you not to?”
I nodded, and calmly explained that I did it because I didn’t think I deserved the punishment, that getting into the fight with Max wasn’t all my fault, and — maybe the strongest reason of all — that it was probably the only chance I’d ever have of going fishing.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” I finished. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. But I was hurt, too. I hope you understand.”
Gradually, the redness in her cheeks subsided. But her voice remained firm. “Maybe I was a bit harsh with you, and I didn’t give you a chance to explain about the fight. But I can’t have you sneaking around and disobeying me, either. We’ll have to discuss this further when your father comes home. In the meantime, please go up and clean your room.”
I nodded obediently and ran up the stairs, only too glad to escape. At least she didn’t go completely berserk, I thought with relief. And chances are, if Dad is going to be involved, I’ll probably get off with nothing more than a lecture tonight.
Later that afternoon, Carl told Mom th
at he was going bike riding.
“Can I go with you?” I asked.
“No. I’m going alone,” he answered tersely and headed for the door.
I didn’t say anything. But right after he left, I went out, too. He had just opened the garage door. We entered the garage, put on our helmets, and got on our bikes.
“I said I’m going alone,” Carl said, glaring at me.
“Who said I’m going with you?” I shot back.
I pressed the accelerator, drove past him to the street, and turned left. In the rearview mirror I saw him ride to the street and turn right.
I was hurt and disgusted. I almost followed him to tell him how I felt but I didn’t. I just hoped that someday Carl would act like a brother.
I hadn’t ridden more than two blocks when I saw a couple of girls skateboarding side by side on the sidewalk. I recognized them immediately: Gail and Barbara.
I pulled up to the curb and cut the engine. “Hi!” I said.
“Oh, look, it’s Sean!” Barbara cried, swinging around and stopping in front of me.
“Hi, Sean!” Gail greeted me, skateboarding up to the curb. “Man! What a neat-looking motorcycle! I’ve never ridden on one before!”
I grinned. “It’s not a motorcycle,” I said. “It’s a dirt bike.”
Her eyes sparkled. “Would you give me a ride?”
I was afraid she’d ask me that. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I would, but my dad warned me not to give anybody rides.”
“Oh, that’s okay.”
We chatted for about another five minutes, and then more skateboard wheels clacked on the sidewalk. It was the Three Musketeers: the Octopus, the Squasher, and McNeer.
All three of them pulled up sharply in front of us and turned to me. The Octopus glared at me as if I were some kind of insect.
“You get around, don’t you, Short Fry?” he snapped. “Gail, you know who you’re talking to?”
Her face flushed a little. “Yes, I know to whom I’m talking,” she answered.
“And you don’t care?”
“Why should I care? He’s a friend.”
“A friend? He’s a foe! Do you know he’s got my King button and won’t give it back to me?”
“I don’t care about that, either,” she said softly. “Will you leave us alone, please? You interrupted a conversation that doesn’t concern you.”
Max’s face turned rose-red. For a few long seconds there was a heavy silence, then he said, “Let’s go, guys. I guess this sister of mine likes little boys.”
They whirled as if they were all on a string and scooted down the sidewalk a mile a minute, Max in front.
I turned and stared at Gail.
9
“You’re Max’s sister?”
She nodded nonchalantly. “Yes. I know what you’re thinking and I can’t blame you. He can be a pest.”
I grinned. “Can be?”
“Well, he’s mostly like that when he’s on the streets with those two goony characters,” she said. She took a deep breath and sighed. “I’ve tried to talk to him about the way he acts at times, but he won’t listen.”
I wondered if her parents had tried to talk to him, too, but I didn’t ask her.
“If you guys don’t mind, can we change the subject?” Barbara cut in. “When are you wrestling again?” she asked me.
“Thursday night,” I said. “Against Gardner.”
“Hey!” she exclaimed, smiling broadly. “We’re free that night, aren’t we? I mean, our guys are wrestling Pierson Friday night.”
“Right,” Gail said, both of her feet on the skateboard, rocking it back and forth. “Maybe we’ll come see you.”
“Why not?” Barbara replied.
“That would be nice,” I said. But now that I knew Gail was Max’s sister, the idea that she would come to see me wrestle didn’t especially make me want to do cartwheels. “Ahem …” I said, clearing my throat. “Are you sure you want to consort with the enemy?”
“Enemy?” she echoed. “Don’t you worry. Max has his friends, I have mine.”
I felt better. And I was pretty sure by this time that Barbara hadn’t meant to get me in trouble with Max by telling him about the button.
We gabbed for another few minutes, then split up. I rode all the way to the end of the street, then turned left onto the street where Mount Villa Mall was located. I was passing it when some action near the side of the Sears building caught my eye. I slowed down and eased over toward the curb to get a better look.
A guy was standing near the wall with his hands on his hips, watching a wrestling match. But from what I could see, this was no sporting event. Anything went, legal or illegal.
Then I spotted the dirt bike. It was resting against the wall to the guy’s left side. A white bike with black trim. The only kid I knew with a bike like that was Carl.
My mind spun. It was the Octopus and his cronies! They were beating up on Carl!
Why him? Then I figured they must be picking on him because they weren’t able to get at me earlier. Sure! That was it!
I lifted my bike over the curb, pressed the accelerator lever and felt the bike almost take off from under me. In just a few seconds I was pulling up in front of Nyles and McNeer. They were both on top of Carl! Nyles was pinning down his arms and McNeer was sitting on his legs.
I cut the engine, quickly laid the bike down, and dove on Nyles, knocking him off Carl. Then I scrambled to my feet and headed for McNeer. By now he was pushing himself off of Carl, and shooting puzzled glances from me to Max, as if to ask, “What’ll we do now, boss?”
“You jerks!” I yelled. “Leave him alone! Two on one! Great! That’s just great!”
“Hey! What’s going on?” a man’s voice yelled from down in front of Sears.
“A cop!” Max exclaimed. “Let’s get out of here!”
He hopped on his skateboard and raced down alongside the building toward the lawn and garden section, Nyles and McNeer at his heels.
The policeman approached Carl and me on a run, gripping his black stick. “Were you guys fighting with that bunch?”
“They were fighting me,” Carl explained, brushing dirt off his pantlegs. “I was riding my bike and they stopped me.”
“You know them?”
“Yes.”
“You want to file charges?”
“No.”
“No? You sure? Those punks might want to attack you again, you know.”
“I… I’ll be more careful the next time,” Carl promised. I was surprised at his calmness. My own heart was trying to jump out of my chest.
The policeman looked at both Carl and me, his black eyebrows squeezed together above the middle of his stubby nose, as if trying to memorize our faces or recall if he’d seen us before.
“Well, okay,” he said finally. “But take my advice. Keep out of trouble, all right?”
We both nodded, and he shook his head and walked away.
“What happened?” I asked Carl. “Why did they jump on you?”
He straightened his helmet and went over to his bike. “Never mind,” he said gruffly.
“Never mind?” I echoed.
He got on the bike and started it. From the expression on his face I could tell he wasn’t going to talk. But I wanted to know. No matter what he thought of me, I still considered him my brother. And if I could help him, I would. At least, I would try.
I ran over to him and grabbed the handlebars. “Carl! Why did they jump on you?” I repeated.
His eyes met mine, and then he said, “They didn’t jump on me, okay? Max wanted me to admit that you’ve got his King button. I kept saying I didn’t know anything about it. Then he started to call you names. Little Punk, Runt, Squirt, names like that.”
I kept looking at him, not saying a word.
“I couldn’t take it any longer, so I hit him.”
“You hit Max?”
He nodded. “Yeah. He hit me once, then had the other two guys jump me.”
He started up the engine. But I didn’t take my hand off the handlebars. “You started that fight because Max was calling me names?”
“Buzz off,” he said.
Anger started to gnaw at my stomach. Carl was still sour on me, no matter what he’d done. Well, who said I needed him to stick up for me, anyway? I could fight my own battles.
“Know what?” I said. “I wish you’d mind your own business and let me take care of my own.”
He glared at me. “Fine with me, brother!” he said. “Now get out of my way!”
He gunned the engine. I let go of the handlebars and he sped up the street, smoke belching from his bike’s exhaust. I stared after him, anger still simmering inside me. What a stepbrother, I thought. Will he and I ever become friends? Right now the gap between us seemed ten miles wide.
I sat on my bike, started it up, and wondered what to do next. I didn’t feel like going home. All I could do there was sit and mope.
I thought of the school gym. Maybe working out on one of the exercise machines would help relax me.
The gym was a popular place. Over a dozen guys were already there. I changed into my shorts and started lifting barbells. I hadn’t been at it more than five minutes when I heard a familiar voice.
“Well, hi, Sean! Building up those biceps to look like Schwarzenegger?”
I paused and grinned at Clint Wagner. From the sweat glistening on his body, I didn’t need two guesses to figure out what he’d been doing.
“Like his brother, anyway,” I answered. I didn’t even know if Arnold Schwarzenegger had a brother.
I set the barbells down with a heavy sigh. “Had nothing else to do,” I said.
“Well, it must have gone well with your mother this morning, or you wouldn’t be here.”
“Yeah, I told her the truth and she was okay about it.” I didn’t tell him that the subject wasn’t closed yet.
Clint crossed his arms over his chest. “How’d you like to work on some of those holds I showed you?” he asked. “At least it’d be a better use of your time than lifting those barbells.”
I shrugged. “Sure.”
Why not? I thought. Any coaching I got helped.
Takedown Page 5