By the time the game is about to begin, the stands are packed. A row of TV cameras lines the field in front of us. A spotlight hits the center of the stadium, where a sharply dressed man in a suit stands. The crowd erupts in excitement.
“Attention, ladies and gentlemen. As you know, this is an important day in the lives of our potential Volare team members. Twenty-eight will take the field, but only fourteen will go on to become our new Volare team. We’ll start with the first fourteen candidates.”
The crowd erupts in applause again, and I’m so excited I almost don’t notice a tap on my shoulder behind me.
When I turn around, I’m startled by an unexpected face. “Zach?”
“What are you doing here?” Shelly asks.
Zach looks wounded. “I-I-I’m sorry I dragged you this far.”
“What’s going on?” Shelly asks.
“I-I-I’m not playing,” he says, turning away from us.
Shelly laughs nervously. “What do you mean you’re not playing?”
“Coach said I was too far behind, not enough experience.”
“But you’re great.” Shelly stands, her eyes beginning to water. “It’s not possible.”
“I didn’t mean to let you guys down.”
“You didn’t let anyone down,” I say. “How could—”
“I could have studied more,” Zach says, pounding his foot on the ground. “I could have learned more terms, more jargon, more—”
Elliott steadies Zach. “Sure, but they could’ve not been idiots too.”
“I don’t blame them. Barely handled a spikeball in my life, how could I think—”
“Hey!” Elliott yells. “Stop that. You’re good, Zach, it’s not your fault they can’t see that.”
Shelly fumes. “I’d like to go down there right now and punch that coach in the face.”
“Good way to get him expelled,” I say.
“Doesn’t matter anyway,” Zach says. “Not going to have a scholarship if I’m off the team. Oh—what is Dad going to say?”
He collapses on the bench, burying his face in his hands.
“Yep, totally going to punch that guy,” Shelly says.
Elliott raises an eyebrow. “I’ve seen the Volare coach, you probably don’t want to provoke him.”
“He’s a monster,” Zach says. “Uses his insecurity about his age as ammunition to unleash venom on his athletes.”
Elliot laughs. “Too bad you aren’t going to be on the team. You’d be the best spoEric jock I’ve ever heard.”
Zach laughs. “This is why I should be teaching English.”
As a smile comes over his face, I can’t help but wonder if part of it is relief. He must have felt a great deal of pressure from everyone, and now he no longer has to face it. He can set out to do whatever he wanted.
“Y-y-you’re not giving up that easily, are you?” Shelly asks.
“What do you expect me to do?” Zach says.
“Fight,” she says. “Demand you get a chance.”
“Not much I can do.”
Shelly crosses her arms. “You mean there’s not much you will do.”
Zach just sits back.
“Fine,” she says, “Whatever, excuse me a moment, I need to use the bathroom.”
She bolts up and stomps away from our seats.
“She’ll get over it,” Elliott says.
Zach sighs. “No, she won’t.”
I can’t help but agree with him. A part of Shelly’s attraction to Zach was his potential, and I can’t imagine Shelly wants a long relationship with an English teacher. I want to reach over to give Zach a hug and tell him it will be okay, but I’d hate him to think I was trying to catch him on the rebound.
There’s a loud roar as the teams take their position on the field. Each player’s name thunders through the stadium as they wave to the crowd.
“I think I need to use the bathroom too,” Zach says and quickly leaves us.
***
It’s quickly clear how desperate the players are to show off. The risky moves create a frantic spikeball game like I’ve never seen before. Elliott rolls his eyes as a pair of Runners collide into each other. "They're trying too hard. Not working as a team at all."
I have to agree. When you have a bunch of hotshots trying to impress, the game becomes less an elegant pattern of moves, and more a tangled mess. One of the Runners makes it the blockpile and jumps high to take a shot, but misses the goal entirely.
"Trying to be like Drake," Elliott says.
The crowd boos at the stupid move and the Runner shakes his head in shame.
“Can't imagine he'll be making it on the team," Elliott says.
In the midst of the chaotic action on the ground, my attention keeps turning to the Fliers in the air. I'm trying to determine what the coach saw in them to put them ahead of Zach. The first Flier is a tiny little guy with bright red hair. His lack of height enables him to zip around the field like a hummingbird. As much as I don't want to admit it, he might even be faster than Zach. The other Flier is almost exactly his opposite, a bear of a man whose huge frame seems too large to be lifted by his wings. He swoops down and spreads his wings to block a Runner, who plunges directly into his back. Surprisingly, it's the Runner that is knocked to the ground and the Flier maintains a macho posture above him.
"That guy is a rock!" Elliott says, eyes wide in excitement. He notices my disdainful expression and his face becomes blank. "But a big guy like that couldn't be as good of a Flier as Zach."
I nod, and after watching the Flier for a while, it's clear Elliott is right. He must have been picked as a intimidation technique, because his flying is not good. A couple of times, he clearly misses the spikeball when it's within reach.
The red-haired Flier continues his amazing acrobatics around the field, managing to intercept the spikeball a few times. But as the game progresses, he begins to slow down.
"Didn't pace himself well," Elliott says. "Went out too strong, now he's on fumes."
Looking at the clock, I see there are only a few minutes left. "Where is Zach?"
"Probably lost trying to find the restroom," Elliott says.
I grimace back at him. Zach might be directionally challenged, but it’s something I always found charming about him.
"Forget Zach, where's Shelly?" Elliott asks.
"Probably bawling in the bathroom," I say.
Elliott shakes his head. "It's going to be a long ride home."
Just as I'm about to agree, Shelly comes up from behind us. Her red puffy eyes reveal I was right about her crying. "How is it going?"
"Red-haired guy is pretty good but no stamina. Big guy is not a good Flier," Elliott says.
"I knew that coach was stupid," she says. "Wish there was something we could do.”
"Have you seen Zach?" I ask.
"No," she says. "Is he missing—where is he? He hasn't—I mean, I knew he was upset he didn’t get on the team—he hasn't—"
"Calm down, he's probably just crying his eyes out in the bathroom like you were," Elliott says.
"Zach wouldn't do that," Shelly says. "He's not a quitter."
"Could have fooled me," Elliott says.
Shelly lifts her arm up toward him, and I ready myself to block what will surely be a slap, when a loud buzzer signals the end of the round.
"Thank you, candidates," the announcer says. "Best of luck to you all."
Elliott frowns. "This is a pretty dumb way of picking a team. You just end up with a lot of show-off tricks. Doesn't tell you how they will play together."
"It's certainly good TV though," I say, pointing at all the cameras on the field.
"At this time," the announcer says, "we would like to announce a change in the second half. Due to an injury, Gary Card will not be able to play. As a substitution, we would like to bring on the field Zach Birtwell."
It takes a moment for my brain to process. I glance over at Elliott, as if to ask him if I’ve just heard what I thou
ght I have. His face makes it clear I did.
Shelly jumps up and down behind us. "I can't believe it! What luck!"
I can't help but think she's a little heartless about the fact that Gary apparently got injured, but a part of me wants to jump and down too.
"Some things are just destined to be," Shelly says in a swoony voice befitting a cheesy television commercial.
As the players take the field, my heart jumps into my throat. I'm pretty certain Zach can best the giant Flier's clumsy performance from earlier, but he has to beat at least one other Flier to make the team. I try to size up the Flier next to him. He's a tall skinny guy who doesn't look too impressive, until he sheds his wingvest. My jaw drops as his massive wings unfurl, easily twice as long as Zach's.
"That's the biggest wingspan I've ever seen!" Elliott yells.
"But does he know how to fly?" Shelly asks.
After the start of the game, it's obvious he does. His giant wings allow him to corner with ease and soar and swoop in a flash. Zach struggles to keep up with him.
"Remember, he doesn't have to beat him," Elliott says. "Just one of the ones from the first round."
It's a bit unsettling to think that Elliott has already surrendered first place to one of the other Fliers. But I can't help but agree. As much as I think Zach is talented, the other Flier is clearly his superior. A few minutes in, it seems Zach has also admitted defeat. He doesn’t even try to catch up with the other Flier anymore; instead, he just looms in the distance.
Elliott crosses his arms. "He looks like he is—"
"Don't say it," Shelly says. "He's not giving up, he's just—coming up with a plan."
I want to think she's right, but Zach cowers in fear in the corner of the field. Maybe he's sabotaging this on purpose.
Out of nowhere, he bursts forward at a speed I've never seen from him before. The crowd roars as Zach zooms towards a Runner carrying the spikeball down the field. Gasps echo across the stadium as he overtakes the Runner and flies in front of him, spreading his wings. The Runner has to swerve quickly to avoid hitting him and drops the spikeball in the process. It sails through the air and Zach zips around to catch it. He then soars towards the goal on the far side of the field.
"Go Zach!" Shelly yells.
"He's going to have to be careful," Elliott says, pointing at the other Flier, who is gunning for Zach.
Zach keeps flying straight, unshaken by the impending Flier. He gets closer, until he's only a few feet away.
"What is he doing?" Elliott asks.
The Flier spreads his wings out, ready to tackle Zach midair. Just as he closes in, Zach swoops downwards, and pulls back up in a giant somersault.
Elliott pumps his fist. "What a great move! That's some risky flying!"
Zach swerves again and again in a dizzying pattern of acrobatics. Eventually, the other Flier is so confused he begins flying in the wrong direction.
"See, I told you he was brilliant," Shelly says.
Zach's moves have won over the crowd; they begin to chant his name as he makes his way down the field.
"He's flying low," Elliott says. "You have to have nerves of steel to fly that fast at that height."
I smile, happy to hear my friend being so complimented. They're going to have to pick him now.
One of the opposing team's Jumpers bounds down the field, but Zach doesn't seem to see him.
"He should pull up," Elliott says.
I grip my seat as the Jumper leaps towards him. Zach simply lands on the field, and the Jumper leaps right over him. Then Zach shoots up into the sky as the Jumper scrambles to jump after him. But he's too high. The Jumper reaches into the air and misses Zach by a few feet. Below, a Jumper from Zach's team signals to pass the ball, but Zach instead hurls the spikeball at a Climber standing on the blockpiles. The crowd takes to their feet as the Climber tosses the ball in for a goal.
"That was a good throw," Elliott says. "Good teamwork too. Most of the Fliers would have passed it to a Jumper."
With the crowd on his side, Zach enters the second half of the game with a newfound energy. He begins to challenge, even overtake the other Flier's skills. He even manages to throw in some hotshot moves, which never fail to pump up the crowd. In the end, as much as Volare may want a skilled spikeball player, they also want a star that can put people in the seats. Zach's charming smile and electric flying skills are so endearing, it's hard to imagine them not seeing the potential.
As the game draws to a close, Zach is once again holding the spikeball and careening down the field. The crowd chants his name again, and he waves at them as he nears the blockpiles. The other Flier bolts towards him at full speed.
"What is he doing?" I ask.
Elliott shrugs.
The other Flier keeps going.
"It does matter," I say. "They are three points down anyway. Zach's team will win."
With the clock showing thirty seconds, there was no way for the other team to score. Even so, the Flier kept zooming towards Zach. The crowd gasps as Zach swerves downwards to avoid the collision, but the other Flier is too fast for him. He pushes Zach towards the ground and flattens him into the field.
Shelly screams. The referee's whistle can barely b heard over the loud boos emanating from the crowd.
“Dirty loser," Elliott says. "He was just mad Zach was playing such a great game."
Zach lays on the field, breathing rapidly.
"Is he alright?" Shelly asks.
Zach continues to lay there, barely moving. He tries to lift his head off the ground, but quickly falls back down.
"Zach!" Shelly screams.
A medical team scrambles to the field. After a little effort, they have him sitting upright, to the applause of the crowd.
"At least he'll be a shoo-in for sure now," Elliott says.
Shelly and I both give him a dirty look.
"What?" Elliott says. "It's true. People love a martyr. I just can't believe how nasty that guy was."
"Zach said they didn't like him," I say. "Thought he didn't belong. He probably couldn't handle the attention he was getting."
Shelly stomps her foot down. "Well, he's going to keep getting attention. Lots of it. More attention than that jerk will ever see."
As Zach lifts himself off the ground, I can't help but wonder if he wants that sort of attention. With his talent, he soon will have a target on his back.
Of course, that's something I can relate to.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The results from the doctors come in. Zach's injuries will put him on bed rest for a few days, but shouldn't have any lasting effects. He's a bit lucky. Incidents of that magnitude usually mean the Flier is out of spikeball for a year at least. Some can never play again.
Zach smiles at us from his gurney. "So I really was that good?"
"Better," Shelly says. "No wonder that jerk was so threatened."
"Ray's just a little hot-headed."
"Hot-headed?" Shelly says. "He's a psycho."
Zach stares up at the ceiling. “If you had to endure the pressure he did, you might think differently.”
As I watch Zach, I can’t help but wonder if there is some guilt on his face. It must be awkward coming from the outside into a group of people who have spent their whole lives trying to achieve a goal. Then he just sneaks in at the last minute to take it away. He didn't ask to be good. In fact, I know he would have chosen another path if he could have.
Next to us, another Flier lays in a gurney.
"At least you got to play," he says. "Stupid luck. Imagine, slipping in the locker room. How dumb can I be?"
He pounds his fist against the pillow, and a nurse attending to him grabs his hand. "You need to stop that. You can't help what happened. But you'll hurt yourself more."
"I don't care how hurt I am," he says. "My life is ruined."
Shelly turns her face away from him and shakes her head.
'You probably should head out, don't want you getting home too late
," Zach says.
"I don't want to go while you're hurt," Shelly says.
"I'll be fine, just need to rest," Zach says.
"Yes, rest," the nurse says as she steps forward to check his vitals. "I think you've had enough excitement for today."
"Right," I say. "We should go."
I start to pull at Shelly. She finally gives in and we head towards the car.
"I hope he'll be alright," Shelly says.
"His injury won't keep him down for long," I say. "Just hope he can cope with the pressure at Volare."
"Those idiots are just jealous," Shelly says. "Bet his coach is too, probably why he didn't put him on the team."
"Sure got lucky," I say, "with that last minute injury."
I turn towards Shelly and see she isn't meeting my glance. A part of me worried from the second I heard the announcement that it was too good to be true.
"Shelly?" I ask. "What's up?"
"Nothing," she says, running ahead towards the car.
Elliott looks at me, confused. "What's the matter with her?"
"Isn't it convenient that a player just happens to get injured right before they go on?" I say.
"You don't think—"
"No, I'm sure she did something. Now I just have to figure out what I should do."
"Nothing."
"Nothing?"
"You can't say anything without revealing Shelly's power. You made a promise."
"But she's abusing it. It's not her right to decide that guy doesn't get a chance to play."
"Is it your right to send Shelly to isolation for the rest of her life?"
I take a deep breath, and we walk back to the car in silence. Sometimes I feel there are far too many questions in life without answers.
***
The one good thing about Shelly being angry with me is she gives me the silent treatment on the drive home. As if that's a punishment.
We're halfway home when my curiosity gets the better of me.
I turn back at Shelly. "I won't tell anyone, but you did something back there, didn't you?"
Shelly's eyes widen. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Ok," Elliott says. "I think it's time we turned on some music."
Catalyst: (Elevated Saga Book #2) Page 16