“What happened?” she asked.
“We won,” Alex said.
As happy as he had been when Matt scored, he didn’t feel overjoyed anymore. Chester Heights would play in the championship game. That thrilled him. But the uncertainty about what would happen to him—what if they somehow screwed up the test again? what if they refused to admit their mistake?—was weighing on him.
His mom had apparently not thought about any of that. Or didn’t show it.
“That’s great!” she said. “This means you get to play next week!”
“Maybe,” he said. “If I’m cleared. But Matt’s still the starter. He saved the game tonight.”
“What do you mean if you’re cleared?” she said. “You’re going to be cleared.”
Alex told her his fears. She was shaking her head as he spoke. “I’m very good on gut feelings,” she said. “You know that. Mr. Newsome is an honest man. He won’t let anything like that happen.”
“I hope you’re right,” he said.
“I know I’m right,” she said, crossing the room to give him a kiss on the forehead. “Get some sleep now. You should be able to sleep well tonight.”
He nodded. “You’re right.”
He went to bed still full of adrenaline, thinking about the possibility of playing in the state championship game. His mom was right—the state had to clear him. Then a thought that had been nagging at him all day popped back into his mind one more time: if it wasn’t his blood that had tested positive, whose blood had it been? It had to be one of the linemen, he thought. He lay awake trying to figure out which one it had been.
Finally, after he’d run through all the names, he slept.
He had texted both Christine and Jonas on the way back from Harrisburg and Christine suggested they all meet at Stark’s for lunch on Saturday.
When Alex walked in, the others were sitting in the back booth that now felt like home to Alex. Both were drinking milk shakes.
“I would think after last night you’d never want anything cold again,” he said, hugging Jonas as he stood to greet him.
“You’re not far wrong,” Jonas said. “Christine talked me into it.”
“Was it as bad as it looked?” Alex asked as they sat down.
“Worse,” Jonas said. “You know me, I think I can catch anything. But I was never so happy in my life as when Matt pulled that ball down. I was convinced he was going to throw it to me and I was going to flat-out drop it. I was soaked and shivering by then.”
Christine had barely said a word as the two boys talked. Her hair was tied back and the brightness in her eyes that was usually so evident seemed missing.
“You okay?” Alex asked, turning to her finally.
“Fine. Just very tired,” she said. “We couldn’t drive home last night because of the weather, so we checked into a hotel and got up at six to come home. I’ve been doing homework most of the morning since we got back.”
The waitress came over and Alex, still cold from the bike ride over, opted for hot chocolate.
Christine got down to business.
“The Daily News has asked me to write this story as soon as you’re cleared on Tuesday,” she said.
“That’s a pretty big deal for a high school freshman reporter, isn’t it?” Jonas said.
“It is,” Christine said. “But Stevie Thomas has been writing for them since he was my age, so they’ve done it before. Plus, my dad showed the sports editor some of my stuff and he thought it was pretty good.”
“Glad to be of service,” Alex said, hoping he didn’t sound too sarcastic. If he did, Christine didn’t pick up on it.
“There’s still one important fact missing.”
“What’s that?” Alex said.
“Whose blood was it?” Christine said. Her tone made it clear she was a little stunned he didn’t know the answer.
“Right,” he said.
“The good news is, there are only a handful of guys on the team who have O-negative blood,” Christine said. “The bad news is, the state can’t be sure which is the one who tested positive.”
Alex said, “But isn’t there someone out there with O-negative blood whose test came back clean, showing O-positive blood because it was mine?”
“That makes sense,” said Jonas, who had been listening intently. “But tell me if I’m wrong, Christine. Won’t they first try to figure out how someone else’s blood ended up marked with Alex’s name? Figuring out whose blood it really was only comes after figuring out how the system broke down. Otherwise, how do they trust any of the results? There might be more than one mix-up. Sounds to me like it’s very unlikely they’ll figure out who it is before Friday.”
Alex thought about it for a minute. “Actually, it’s not all bad. It means we won’t lose a key lineman for the championship game.”
“So you’re okay with having someone play who’s a cheat as long as it helps you win?” Christine asked, shooting him a disgusted look.
“I didn’t mean it that way.”
“Yes, you did.”
“What makes you so sure it’s a lineman?” Jonas said, much to Alex’s relief—although Christine was still shooting daggers at him with her eyes.
“Gotta be one of the big guys up front, right?” Alex said. “Every other positive test in the state was a lineman.”
“That makes sense,” Jonas said.
“It’s also not fair that he plays,” Christine said.
“He’s already been playing,” Alex said. “Whoever it is, whether by accident or not, has beaten the system. I’ll just be glad to put this behind me.”
“That,” Christine said, “you’re entitled to.”
The next couple of days dragged for Alex. The school was electric on Monday as everyone geared up for Thanksgiving break—which started after school on Tuesday—and for the championship game, which would be played at Heinz Field, the home stadium of the Steelers, in Pittsburgh on Friday night. It would be televised on Comcast SportsNet–Philadelphia, which meant it would be broadcast statewide and up and down the Northeast Corridor.
Chester Heights was in its third state title game but its first in seven years. Their opponent, Beaver Falls High School, was not only the defending state champion but had also produced the great Joe Namath, among others. The Tigers probably weren’t ever going to have anyone as good as Namath play for them again, but they did have a senior quarterback named Johnny Washington who was being recruited by a lot of big-name schools. He had been nicknamed “Little Johnny Football” by the media covering the team in honor of “Johnny Football” Manziel, the 2012 Heisman Trophy winner.
If anyone at Chester Heights was concerned about facing Little Johnny Football and the 12–0 Tigers, it didn’t show in the hallways, the classrooms, or the cafeteria on Monday.
Alex, Christine, and Jonas decided to tell no one about his retest—better to be cleared officially and then spread the news.
Alex moved around school on Monday almost as if he were in a bubble: people either pointedly looked the other way or barely nodded at him. The fact that Matt had been the savior on Friday while he had been in exile had returned him to the early days of the fall when he had felt like the invisible man.
During lunch, Matt came over and sat down with Alex, Jonas, and Christine. No one else had come anywhere close to the table.
“How you holding up, Goldie?” he asked.
Alex shrugged. “I’m doing okay.” He forced a smile. “I’m doing a lot better thanks to you making that play Friday night.”
“We could have used you,” Matt said. “On a field like that, your arm strength would have helped a lot. I just couldn’t grip the football well enough to get it where it needed to go. If we’d been able to throw—if you’d been there to throw—we’d have won easily.”
“Sorry.”
Matt leaned forward. “I didn’t mean it that way—you know that.”
“I know.”
Alex wondered if Coach Gordon had told Ma
tt about the retest. He knew that Mr. Newsome had sent Mr. White an email informing him of the retest and the reason for it, because he had sent a copy to Alex’s mom with a note attached, saying, “I hope this turns out well. Alex seems like a very nice young man.”
Alex figured that Mr. White would have told Coach Gordon and that Coach Gordon would have told Matt. But if Matt knew anything, he wasn’t saying.
Matt stood up. “Hey, thanks for the text. It meant a lot.”
Alex had texted Matt late Friday to congratulate him. He had texted back a brief Thanks … missed you in response.
“You think he knows?” Christine asked as Matt walked away.
“Has to,” Jonas said. “The old man had to tell him.”
“If he does, it seems like he would have said something in his text,” Alex said.
“Something’s a little off here,” Jonas said.
Alex agreed. His gut told him that Matt’s father hadn’t told him. Coach Gordon was hard to figure out—in more ways than one.
A pep rally and assembly had been scheduled for last period on Tuesday since it was the last day of school before Thanksgiving—and the championship game. Alex had decided he was only going to go if he had been cleared to play by then. He was telling his mom about that decision when his phone rang late Monday night.
“We need to meet—six-thirty in the morning, at the bike rack.”
It was Christine. “Oh God, why? And why there and why so early?” Alex asked. “Can’t we do it somewhere indoors and closer to the start of school? I mean, what’s the big deal now?”
“We can’t meet that close to school starting,” she said. “People will see us. You’re a celebrity now, for better or worse. People will recognize you. At six-thirty at the bike rack we’ll be alone.”
“But—”
“Alex, just meet me. This is important.”
“How important?”
“That coach I talked to last week—remember him? He knows the guy who runs the high school athletic association.…”
“Mr. Newsome?”
“Yeah, him. The coach apparently talked to him.” She paused for a moment and then said, “You’ve been cleared.”
Alex’s heart leaped. “Are you sure?” he said. “That’s just great … amazing!” He realized his heart was going about a thousand beats a minute. He had known this had to be the outcome, but now he really knew.
He paused for a moment, still catching his breath. Then he said, “Why haven’t they called me? Why do we have to meet so early …?”
“Because there’s more. I want to make a couple more calls to people to try to be absolutely sure this guy has it right before I fill you in. I need a little more time.”
“What in the world are you talking about?”
“Alex, please. Just trust me a few more hours and meet me tomorrow at six-thirty.”
Alex went from thrilled to baffled and back in about ten seconds. At this point, other than his mom there was no one in the world he trusted more than Christine.
“Okay,” he said finally. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Do not be late.”
He hung up and stared at the phone, then realized he had almost forgotten the most important thing. He was going to play Friday. He raced upstairs to tell his mom.
Even though Alex was on time—two minutes early, in fact—Christine was waiting for him when he rode up to the bike rack. She was holding two large cups in her hands.
“I thought you might want some hot chocolate,” she said, handing him a very hot cup after he had chained his bike.
Holding the hot chocolate in her left hand, she put out her right hand—which was gloved. “Congratulations,” she said. “I’m glad you were finally proven innocent.”
“Because of you,” Alex said. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
Still holding the cup of hot chocolate, he attempted an awkward one-armed hug. She returned it, smiling—even if they both almost lost their balance for a second.
“Listen to the rest of the story,” Christine said. “There’s still a lot more we have to do.”
They sat down on a very cold bench next to the rack. Alex put both hands on the hot chocolate and took a sip. It had cooled just enough that it was perfect.
“It’s a little bit dangerous, actually,” she said. “We could both get in big trouble.”
Alex laughed. “Trouble is my middle name,” he said.
“More like in trouble,” Christine said.
“I’ve been looking into how the blood samples get processed,” she continued. “The people at the lab have very strict rules about how samples are handled. I talked to one of the nurses who drew blood, and assuming he’s telling the truth, there’s only one way your blood could have been confused with somebody else’s.”
“How?” Alex asked.
“Someone had to switch the labels before the samples went to the lab.”
“You mean on purpose?” Alex asked.
“Had to be,” Christine said, sipping the hot chocolate. “You can’t peel a label off one vial of blood and put it on another by accident.”
Alex sat back on the bench, its coldness shooting through him as he did.
“So someone tried to frame me?” Alex said.
“Or was trying to get someone else off the hook and happened to pick your sample,” Christine said.
“Or both?” he said. “That’s possible too, isn’t it?”
They looked at one another.
“But who?” Alex asked.
“That’s where the danger comes in,” she said.
The plan was extremely dangerous—and potentially brilliant.
Christine was going to talk to Mr. Hillier and ask him if he could find out exactly who had been in charge of the blood samples once the nurses had taken them from the players. Apparently, once the samples had been taken and sealed, it was the responsibility of the school to deliver them to the lab.
“Doctors and nurses don’t do that sort of work,” Christine explained. “They’re not messengers. The labs have messengers who are paid to pick up blood samples and deliver them. We need him to find out who called for the pickup and who handed over the samples to the messenger.”
“That could be the guy who did it,” Alex said.
“Maybe,” she said. “One step at a time. Freshmen went last—isn’t that what you told me? Do you remember what time you were finished?”
Alex thought about it for a moment. “It was about six-thirty. We showered after practice and then waited to be called. I remember calling my mom when I was on my way home because I was later than normal for dinner.”
“Good,” Christine said. “I bet I can find out from LabCorp what time they picked up the blood.”
“Why would they tell you that?” Alex asked.
She smiled. “Because once the announcement is made that a blood test got screwed up, they’re going to want to be sure no one thinks they’re responsible. They’ll be happy to account for every second the blood was in their possession—I’m pretty sure of that. In fact, I’ll make it clear to them that I’m writing a story for the Daily News and the more specific information I have, the better it will look for them.”
“Okay, so far so good,” Alex said, checking his watch. People would be showing up very soon. It was almost seven.
“Right,” Christine said. “That’s actually the easy part. Here’s the hard part. We have to find out who the four guys on the team are who have O-negative blood.”
“Doesn’t the state know that?” Alex said.
“Sure they do,” she said. “But they can’t reveal that information to anyone—it’s confidential student info. We have to find out.”
“And how do we do that?” Alex asked.
“Everyone’s health form must be on file in the football office,” Christine said. “And no one is ever in there from first period until lunchtime.”
“Are you saying we break in?” Alex asked.
&
nbsp; She shook her head. “Oh no. I can get Mr. Hillier to give me a key. You have study hall third period—”
“Are you kidding!” Alex exploded.
“We’ll get Jonas to help,” she said. “He has study hall that period too. It shouldn’t take too long.”
“Should we get Jonas involved in this?” he said.
She gave him a look. “What do you think he’ll say when we ask him?”
“This is nuts,” Alex said.
“I know.” She grinned. “So let’s do it.”
Alex didn’t hear a word anyone said in either of his first two classes. Christine and Jonas were waiting for him outside his history classroom after second period.
“I told him,” Christine said.
Alex remembered she and Jonas were in the same math class.
“What do you think?” he said to Jonas.
“I think we should get going,” Jonas said.
Alex turned to Christine. “Do we have the materials we need for our experiment?” he asked, just in case someone walking by might overhear them.
She nodded and held up her hand so he could see that a key was inside the palm. People were rushing by them, heading for third-period classes. A couple of heads turned in Alex’s direction, but most people were focused on getting where they needed to go.
“Come on, then,” Alex said.
They walked down the steps to the first floor and down the hall that led to the back of the building and the athletic facilities. Alex’s heart was already pounding. He’d come up with a decent excuse for missing study hall: he could say he’d gotten a call from his mother to tell him about the results from the second blood test.
The gym, where classes would be going on, was on the other side of the building. They could hear noise from there, but no one was around.
“So Mr. Hillier was okay with giving you the key?” Alex asked.
“I told him this was the only way to find out who did test positive. He finally agreed that we needed to know.”
They reached the door marked CHESTER HEIGHTS LIONS FOOTBALL. Instinctively, Alex tried the handle—locked. Christine handed him the key. Heart pounding, he put the key into the lock. He turned it and pushed—and nothing happened. Had Mr. Hillier given Christine the wrong key? Were they being set up somehow?
The Walk On Page 25