by Tim Green
He cried out in pain.
“You big dummy,” she said. “You do those United Way commercials talking about how important it is to help kids. So why can’t you help now? Or is that just some phony line for TV?”
Seth was hopping on one foot, grabbing his knee and groaning. When he got his footing, he whipped out his cell phone and started to dial.
“You gonna call the cops?” Tate asked, scowling.
“You bet,” Seth said.
“Good,” she said, crossing her arms and planting her feet. “I can’t wait to tell the reporters when they ask me what happened. How you don’t really care about kids.”
Seth’s brow wrinkled, and he looked from Tate to Troy. “Is she for real?”
“Pretty much,” Troy said with a quick nod of his head.
“Well…well,” Seth said, snapping his phone shut. “Shoot. Two crazy kids. One crazier than the other. What do you want from me? Won’t you just leave?”
“I want you to give my friend a chance,” Tate said, glaring up at him. “He told you what happened. Don’t you listen?”
“Preseason, whatever,” Seth said, pocketing the phone, “the pressure made him crack. Look, I’d love nothing more than for you to be this football genius thing, kid. But the game’s about pressure.”
“He can do it,” Tate said.
Troy nodded his head.
“Yeah,” Seth said. “Okay, here’s the deal. You come in and you call the plays. I got three other players inside watching the game. That’s pressure. Then, if you mess up, I call security and they take you out of here and call your mom and I never see you again.”
“That’s mean,” Tate said, stomping her foot.
“No,” Seth said. “That’s pressure. I got a life, you know. I can’t have you two showing up every time he thinks he gets it right. You gotta decide. That’s it.”
“Okay,” Tate said, grabbing Troy by the arm and tugging him inside. “He’ll do it.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“TATE,” TROY SAID, FROWNING at her. “You will,” she said. “Come on. I know you will.”
“He better,” Seth said, hobbling back into the house, grabbing at his knee. “And I better be able to lift weights tomorrow.”
He led them down some curved stairs to the ground floor and the big media room. The players didn’t pay any attention to them; their eyes were glued to the game. The coffee table was covered with empty bottles. Two big bowls were half full, one with chips, one with pretzels, and a round container of dip sat between them with streaks of the stuff spattered around it.
Demarrio Williams looked up and said, “Hey, kid.”
The others noticed them and did the same but went right back to the TV.
“Aren’t you going to ask us to sit down?” Tate said, still glaring at Seth. “Maybe if we want a drink or something? My mom would kill me if I had your manners.”
Seth twisted up his mouth and somewhat sarcastically waved his hand toward the couch and said, “Won’t you please sit down, Madam Queen?”
“Thank you,” Tate said primly. She patted the cushion next to her, looking back at Troy and motioning with her head.
“And to drink, Your Majesty?” Seth said, bowing.
The players all looked sideways at him, chuckling, then right back to the game.
“Iced tea is fine,” Tate said. “Arizona Green Tea, if you have that.”
Seth made a circle with his mouth and put his hand to it, gasping and raising his eyebrows. “Can Her Majesty forgive me? Nestea is all I have.”
Tate shrugged and nodded, turning her attention to the TV. The Jets were playing the Giants.
“Okay for you too?” Seth asked Troy, going behind the bar and opening the refrigerator there.
Troy nodded and sat beside Tate. He nudged her ribs with his elbow and said, “Take it easy, will you?”
“Just do your genius thing,” she said, “and don’t worry about me. When you’re a girl, you gotta assert yourself. That’s what my mom says. Watch.”
Seth set the drinks down in front of them.
“Yes, I would like some chips, thank you,” Tate said, looking up at him.
Seth crossed his arms, staring back at her. Finally, he laughed and grabbed the bowl, setting it in front of them.
“Just in case,” he said, pushing the dip her way too.
Then Seth stepped back and took out his cell phone again.
“Hello? Harvey?” he said into the phone. “Yes, this is Seth Halloway at 2112 Jackson Drive. I may have a problem, Harvey, and I just wanted to see if you might be able to send a man over here.”
Seth looked at them, raising an eyebrow, and said, “No, not right yet. I’ll call you. The problem might take care of itself. I’ll see. Just wanted to check. Thanks.”
Seth snapped the phone shut again. He put his hands on his knees and leaned close, staring at Troy. “Pressure.”
Troy clenched his teeth and turned his attention to the game. The Giants runner Tikki Barber ran the ball across the fifty to the forty-five, giving his team a first down. Troy watched the defense change players.
He let the room drift away and his mind soak up what he saw without thinking. The Giants came out with two running backs, two tight ends, and only one wide receiver.
“Angle route weak to Tikki,” he said, describing the pass pattern that would look like a sideways V if drawn on the chalkboard, “with Toomer on a deep crossing pattern as the secondary route.”
He didn’t really see, but felt the Falcons players’ eyes go from him back to the TV. The Giants ran the angle route, with Manning completing the pass to Tikki. Tate jumped up and whooped. Troy focused on the game.
The Giants didn’t change players. The Jets brought in an extra linebacker and took a cornerback out.
“Jets will blitz Manning from the weak side with that linebacker who just came in,” Troy said, his voice sounding distant, coming out in a flat tone from his trance. “He’ll either get sacked or pass it to the tight end down the seam.”
It happened the way he said it would, Manning getting mowed down by the blitzing backer before he could get off the pass.
“Did you see the tight end run free up the middle? Right up the seam?” Demarrio Williams said to Seth. “Just like the kid said.”
“I did,” Seth said, crossing his arms, looking from the TV, to Troy, and back, “and the sack. What now?”
Troy didn’t even have to see what players the Giants were going to use.
“That same screen pass, but this time to the fullback going the other way, to the weak side,” Troy said.
He was right.
The Falcons players let out a cheer, and Tate slapped him on his back. Seth tossed the cell phone over his shoulder. As it clattered on the floor, he asked if the kids wanted some leftover pizza.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
SETH DROPPED TATE OFF in front of her apartment building, but not before he held out his hand and she slapped him five.
“I was just saying that stuff,” she said, grinning. “You’re everybody’s hero. You still would be, no matter what some girl kicker says.”
“Well, I’d hate to think how mean you’d be if you were an offensive lineman,” he said. “But the best thing about sports is the friends you make, so I figure Troy here is pretty lucky.”
“Her too,” Troy said, and they all had a laugh.
Troy liked riding up high in the H2. He wished Jamie Renfro could see him, sitting there with Seth Halloway. Troy looked over at the player’s face, the muscled jaw.
“So, you got a girlfriend?” Troy said without thinking.
Seth’s face colored just a bit. He glanced at himself in the rearview mirror, then looked at Troy.
“A couple girls you might call friends, I guess. Nothing serious.”
“You got kids?” Troy asked.
“Hey, not me,” Seth said.
“If you did, you probably wouldn’t just take off like they were never born, I b
et.”
They rode for a few minutes in silence before Seth said, “No. Probably not. But sometimes things happen that people can’t help.”
“Like what?” Troy asked. “Like aliens come down in a spaceship and take you away?”
Seth shrugged. “I’m no school psychologist, kid. All I know is, things happen. Unless you’re the one they’re happening to, you usually can’t understand it. Most people are good people. I believe that, and now we’re at your driveway.”
They pulled off Route 141 and started down the twisty dirt lane.
“You wanna just let me out here?” Troy asked.
“Why’s that?”
“Just better if I get out and walk from here,” Troy said. “I’d rather tell my mom about all this when the time’s right.”
“Which is when?” Seth asked, slowing down.
“I don’t know,” Troy said. “Not now.”
“You gonna lie?” Seth asked, stopping the truck.
“No. I’m just not gonna say anything,” Troy said.
“What if she asks?”
“Then I’ll think of something,” Troy said.
Seth stared at him for a minute, then asked, “Want me to do you a favor?”
“What favor?” Troy asked.
“It’s something good,” Seth said. “Trust me.”
“Sure.”
“Okay,” Seth said. He put the truck into drive and started toward the house.
“Hey,” Troy said, bracing his hands on the dash. “She’ll ground me for life.”
“You want to do something,” Seth said, glancing at him, “you gotta do it right. You don’t start right, you won’t finish right.”
“What’s the favor you’re doing for me?”
“This is the favor,” Seth said. “Making you tell the truth. It’s something pretty important that you need to know.”
“I know that already,” Troy said, slumping down into the seat and turning his head toward the door. “You don’t think I know?”
“You know,” Seth said, “but what you don’t know is that it’s important enough to get in trouble over. The truth is more important than the trouble it brings. The truth is everything.
“If you and I are gonna do something,” Seth said, “we gotta do it right. Just tell her the truth. I got your back.”
They pulled up in front of the house. The door swung open and his mom stepped out onto the porch, hands on her hips.
“Troy? What in the world?”
“It’s okay,” Seth said, holding up his hands to calm her.
“You told me you and your friends were walking the tracks,” she said, glaring at Troy.
“We were!” Troy insisted. “And then…then…”
The answer came to him, slick and easy. A story about Tate going through the wall earlier in the day to see Seth’s house and later realizing she lost the necklace her mom let her wear and her being in tears and begging Troy to go back with her to help find it and him feeling sorry for her and how he knew it was right to stick by your friends when they were in trouble.
“Then what?” his mother asked.
Troy swallowed. “The truth is, I wanted to go to Seth’s to show him what I showed Gramp.”
He looked up at Seth, who grinned and nodded his head.
“Tessa,” Seth said, talking fast, “he is what he says. It was a preseason game Krock showed him. I thought it was pressure. You should have seen him just now. The guys are over, watching Sunday Night Football. He nailed it! He’s a genius. A football genius. I’m not kidding.”
His mom studied Seth for a minute before finally saying, “Do you want to come in?”
“I want to talk to you,” Seth said, following her through the door.
“Coke?” she asked, leading them into the kitchen and pulling out a chair for Seth.
“Sure,” Seth said, sitting down.
His mom opened two bottles and set them down on the table. She poured a glass of milk for Troy and put out a plate of her special chocolate chips made with dark chocolate. Then she sat down, put her elbows on the table, and braced her chin on her hands.
“He’s twelve,” she said, as if that were the beginning and the end of an argument. “I need this job.”
“We had a rough start with Krock,” Seth said. “But he’s not the head coach. That’s my plan. Go right to Coach McFadden.”
“Didn’t they bring Krock in because if Coach McFadden doesn’t win, he’s going to replace him? Even I know that,” Troy’s mom said. “Playing one off against the other? There’s almost no way you can win and lots of ways you can lose.”
“When they see what he can do, we’ll all win,” Seth said. He pushed the Coke aside and leaned toward Troy’s mom with his muscular arms on the table. “We’re oh and two, but we’re a good team. With Josh Lock, and Troy, we could win it all. Everything. You know what that means?”
“I’d like the team to win,” his mom said, “don’t get me wrong. But winning or losing doesn’t make or break me. Losing this job does. If this falls through, my old job is already gone. I’ve got bills. A mortgage. Credit cards.”
“Mom,” Troy said.
“Okay, okay,” Seth said, holding up his hands. “I’ll put my money where my mouth is. Ten grand. I get that as a bonus for every quarterback sack, so it’s not that big a deal. If this doesn’t work and you lose your job, that’ll give you enough to get things going.”
Troy looked at the player’s face. Seth wore an easy smile and the eyes of a man who was used to helping people out of jams, happy to do it. Then he looked at his mom and watched the storm roll in. Her mouth turned down and her eyes got squinty.
“You can take that Coke with you, thank you very much,” she said in a slow, seething voice. Her arm extended slowly out and her finger unfurled, pointing toward the door. “I won’t tell you what you can do with it.”
“What’d I say?” Seth said, touching his fingers to his chest.
“I’ve gone twelve years without handouts from any man,” she said. “I sure as heck am not going to start now. You think I was asking you for money? Please. Just leave.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“I’m doing just fine. I didn’t ask you to come here, remember? I know you’re a big NFL star and people don’t ask you to leave, but I’m asking and I’d appreciate it if you’d go. Now.”
Seth clamped his mouth shut.
“Mom,” Troy said when he could finally speak.
“You?” she said, shooting her eyes at him. “Lying. Sneaking around. Is this how I raised you? Gift from your father? Maybe that’s it. Not listening. The gift of putting yourself before everyone else.”
Seth’s chair scraped back and he stood up. Troy’s mom looked down at the table, still pointing her finger toward the door. Seth walked out, letting the screen door slam behind him, and a fat tear spattered the place mat beneath his mom’s nose.
Troy felt too wounded by her words to feel sorry for her tears.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
IF HAVING SETH WALK out on him wasn’t unpleasant enough, Troy got to look forward to giving Jamie the ball he owed him the next day at school. He’d rather give up the ball, though, than listen to Jamie and his friends calling him a welcher all day long. When he did hand it over, Jamie sniffed and turned it over in his hands before jamming it into his locker and slamming it shut.
“Too bad they suck so much or I could sell it for a couple bucks,” Jamie said with a mean smile as he spun the combination dial on his locker. “Nobody really cares about a team that hasn’t won a game and probably won’t all season. A ball like that from the Cowboys would go for at least five hundred. For this thing, I’d be lucky to get five.”
“Too bad none of the Cowboys would know you or your dad if you fell on them,” Troy said. “Then you wouldn’t have to worry about paying money to get a ball from your favorite team.”
“Like you know these guys,” Jamie said, turning toward him with a sneer.
/> “Seth Halloway was at my house,” Troy said.
“Whatever,” Jamie said, and walked away.
Troy wanted to throw a book at the back of his head, but didn’t. He knew that wasn’t the way to really fix Jamie, and he knew he wasn’t going to get the chance to outshine him on the football field. What would stuff a cork in his hole would be for the Falcons to win and for Troy to be there, helping them do it. He thought of a way he could pull it off, even without his mom’s help. It would be daring, but as Troy thought about it through the rest of the school day, he figured he had nothing to lose.
On the bus ride home from school, Troy shared the plan with his friends. Tate didn’t like it. She had to go home to watch her little sister anyway, but she thought he was only digging himself in deeper. Troy said he was already in the basement and was able to convince Nathan to come over and help him.
“All you have to do is sit here and play Madden 2006 with the volume up,” Troy said when they reached his room. “Is that so hard?”
“What if she comes in?”
“We’ll lock the door,” Troy said. “I’m the one taking the chance. Your dad’s not going to send you to military school.”
“He’ll take my bike,” Nathan said, sitting down and crossing his legs. “He did it before.”
“You ate your sister’s guppies,” Troy said.
“You dared me.”
“Okay, so I dare you to stay here in my room and pretend you’re me. Happy? I need this,” Troy said, handing him the controller. “Come on.”
Nathan took it and started to play.
“I don’t know,” he said, but his eyes were already fixed to the screen. The game was running.
“Good,” Troy said, locking the bedroom door and backing up toward his window. “Just like that. Don’t say a word if she calls. She’ll leave you alone. As long as she can hear you playing the game, you’re fine. She’ll think you’re me giving her the silent treatment.”
Nathan shrugged without looking up. He leaned with the player he controlled on the screen and barked out “Yes” as he scored a touchdown. Troy opened the latch and forced the window open, slipping out and dropping to the ground. He dusted off his hands and started down the path for Cotton Wood Country Club. It took him only ten minutes to get to Seth’s place, and two of those minutes were spent wiggling through the hole in the wall. The rest was on a dead run.