by Paul Langan
“Stay off your back!” Coach Lewis screamed.
Darrell was exhausted. His back was being wrenched and twisted. One of his arms was trapped, and his legs felt like they were chained to a wall. He flailed out his free arm, trying to get a hold of the mat to free himself, but it did not help. He felt like a bug squashed under a shoe.
This is it, Darrell thought. This is where I lose in front of everyone.
Then the whistle blew. The second round had ended. Darrell managed to avoid being pinned, but the boy from Lincoln had scored two points for nearly pinning him.
“Remember what I said, Darrell. Use your head! You can still win!” Coach Lewis instructed.
Darrell got back into the starting position for the final round. Again the whistle blew. Almost instantly the boy seized Darrell and tried to flip him. This time he used a move called the “cradle,” one which Craig had often used against him. Darrell groaned as the boy’s forehead jammed into his rib cage. He wanted to give up. If he just allowed the boy to pin him, it would all be over.
“Use your head, Darrell. You can beat him!” Coach Lewis screamed in the distance.
Everything seemed to pass in slow motion. Darrell could feel his opponent’s arm wrapping under his leg. He felt the impact as the boy drove into his side, forcing him into the mat. He could almost see the whole match as it would appear from the stands.
“Come on, Darrell!” Coach Lewis screamed. To Darrell, he sounded like he was miles away.
Darrell raised his head and looked over at the stands. The Bluford side was filled with people yelling. Their voices blurred together so he could not understand what they were saying. He wondered if Amberlynn was out there watching him lose.
“Do something!”
The boy began tightening his hold on Darrell.
“One minute left,” the referee yelled.
Here I am again, Darrell thought. The boy’s grip tightened, and Darrell felt himself being thrown to his side. This is what I wanted to stop, but here I am again. I’m still losing. The thought filled him with a spark of anger. He had not been going to practice for a month so he could sit in front of his mother and lose.
The boy drove into Darrell, rolling him towards his back. One of Darrell’s shoulderblades touched the mat. He knew he was about to be pinned.
“That’s two points for Lincoln,” the referee said.
“Darrell, get up!” Coach yelled.
Fans on the Lincoln side of the gym cheered.
“I gotta stop this!” bubbled a voice from inside Darrell. “I gotta do something.”
Darrell noticed the boy was preparing to drive him sideways, to flip him up and pin him. Coach Lewis had taught the team a counter move in practice. To use it, Darrell would have to roll with the force of his opponent’s drive. If he timed it right, the boy’s own force would carry him right over, leaving Darrell above him and in control. It was Darrell’s only chance.
The boy leaned back and drove with all his force into Darrell’s side to flip him. Darrell rolled with the same drive. Without the resistance of Darrell’s body, the Lincoln boy’s force carried him right over Darrell. Immediately the boys switched positions. Darrell now was over his opponent. Quickly, he started wrapping the boy into a cradle of his own.
The Bluford crowd roared. The referee signalled that Darrell scored a point, but then he blew the whistle. The match was over. Darrell had lost by two points. As he walked back to his teammates, Coach Lewis came over to him.
“Good first match, Darrell. You would have had that Lincoln boy beat if you had another minute. But he beat you because you stopped trying in the second round. Remember that. You can’t win if you don’t do anything. Then you’re just defeating yourself and your opponent doesn’t have to work at all. As soon as you used your head and started wrestling him, you turned everything around. Keep that in mind, Darrell. Next time, I want you to use your head for the entire match—not just the last minute. Okay?”
Darrell nodded. The advice sounded familiar. It was what he read weeks ago in Hatchet. Brian had said the same thing about surviving and about change. It was the same idea that got Darrell to join the wrestling team in the first place. In order to win, to change, to succeed, you have to work at it. That was what the coach had said. That was what he had read in Hatchet. He thought of Amberlynn and Tyray. I still have work to do, he thought. Lots of work.
He was relieved that his first match was finally over. As odd as it sounded to him, he was a Bluford wrestler. For a moment, he felt proud. At least I wasn’t completely humiliated, and I even had a chance to win, he thought. He was eager to practice harder. He wanted to be Bluford’s best wrestler.
For the rest of the evening, Darrell watched the other members of his team wrestle. In the crowd he spotted Amberlynn and Jamee. They did not seem to notice him, but he remembered what Amberlynn said, how she loved to watch wrestling. Looking at her talking to Jamee, Darrell knew he had to go to the dance. Even if Tyray would be there, he had to go. Otherwise, he thought, it would be just like what Coach Lewis said. If he did not do anything, he would just be defeating himself.
After the match, Darrell met his mother and his Uncle Jason.
“Darrell, I am so proud of you. You looked great out there,” his mother said, giving him a hug. The three of them left the building and started walking back home from Bluford.
“Yeah, Darrell. You looked pretty good for a few minutes,” Uncle Jason added. “But that boy had you beat. You’ve got to improve your strength if you want to win on the mat.”
Darrell looked over at his uncle. He knew part of what Uncle Jason said was right, but he resented him for saying it. Why do you always want to make me feel bad? Darrell wanted to ask. Instead he said, “It was my first match. The coach said it was good for my first time.”
His uncle nodded. “He’s right. But you can’t just roll around and expect to win. When I wrestled, we had a guy on the team who flopped around in almost every match, never doing anything to win. We used to call him ‘Fish’ cause all he did was flipflop on the mat like a fish out of water.” Uncle Jason laughed. “We teased him every day about that. I don’t want you wrestlin’ like ol’ Fish.”
“Darrell, I think you were great,” his mother cut in. “I was proud to be your momma.”
Darrell could barely hear her. His mind was still on what his uncle had said. Uncle Jason’s comment made him feel as though all the work he had done for the past month was for nothing. He imagined what he must have looked like on the mat, how foolish he seemed in front of Amberlynn. Nothing had changed. He was still the same scared kid from Philadelphia. Rage boiled in his chest. He hated his uncle for robbing him of the one moment when he was almost pleased with himself. Darrell wished Uncle Jason had not come to the match. He wished he was not his uncle. As Darrell fought to control his temper, his uncle continued talking.
“And one more thing, Darrell. The way you—”
“You ain’t my coach,” Darrell interrupted. They had reached his uncle’s driveway.
“What?” Uncle Jason asked. He turned his head to look at his nephew.
“You ain’t my coach, so I don’t need your advice, okay?”
“Darrell, don’t you be rude to your uncle! He’s only trying to help you,” his mother snapped.
“I didn’t ask for his help, Mom. Look at me! Do I need to hear from him that I look bad on the mat? Do I need to be told that I’m no good? I know it already. He don’t need to say it.” Darrell stormed towards the apartment door.
Uncle Jason stood there in the driveway, shaking his head. “I’m only trying to give the boy some pointers. That’s all. What’s his problem, Jackie?”
Darrell slammed the door behind him. He was not going to talk to his uncle again.
Chapter 10
The next day at lunch, Darrell was eating wth Harold.
“I heard about your match last night against Lincoln,” Harold said.
“I lost,” Darrell replied bitterly.<
br />
“I heard you were good, though.”
“Who told you that?”
“I heard kids talking in homeroom.”
Darrell grunted. His uncle’s words haunted him.
“You know, I’m thinking about joining wrestling because of you, Darrell.” Harold stared at him. “At first I didn’t think you’d stick with it, but you did. Not only that, you look bigger and you seem . . . stronger. I’m thinking that wrestling could do the same for me,” Harold confessed.
Darrell thought Harold was only saying things he thought Darrell needed to hear. But the look in his eyes told Darrell that his friend was serious. Darrell did not know what to say. Harold was the only kid Darrell knew who could understand what he was going through. For him to say what he did meant a lot.
“You should join,” Darrell said to his friend. “Hey, if I can do it, you can do it.”
As they ate, the boys watched one of the cafeteria workers on the other side of the room cleaning a mess of spilled vegetables on the floor. The woman looked like someone’s grandmother. She seemed to have trouble bending to pick up the last of the mess. Whenever she leaned over, she rested one of her hands on her back as if it was sore. Darrell felt sorry that she had such a hard job. He remembered how Harold’s grandmother had helped him pick up oranges the day Tyray attacked him on the street. He got up to help her.
Since he arrived at the high school, Darrell had rarely ventured to the other side of the cafeteria. Like other kids at Bluford, he and Harold sat at the same table each day. Besides, Darrell knew that Tyray and his friends sat at a table in the far corner of the cafeteria. As he approached the mess, he saw several people from the wrestling team. He had never noticed before that they were in his lunch period. Craig and Luis were at one table with some other students. Farther back, Kevin was sitting with an attractive girl.
Darrell bent down to help the old woman with the mess.
“Oh, thank you,” she said. “I don’t usually get help, and my back has been givin’ me trouble the last few months. What’s your name? I’ve never seen you before.”
“I’m Darrell Mercer,” he replied, cleaning up the last of the spilled vegetables.
“Well, Darrell, you can call me Miss Bea,” she said with a smile. “Tell your momma she did a good job with you.”
“Thanks.”
Darrell wanted to sit with his friends from the team, but he knew that would leave Harold alone. When he returned to his table, Harold was smiling.
“What are you smiling at?” Darrell asked.
“When you got up to help Miss Bea, Amberlynn was watching you the whole time. I can tell by the way she was looking that she likes you. Darrell, you just gotta do something about that!”
There were those words again, Darrell thought. Do something. The same words that Coach Lewis had screamed to him in the wrestling match. Almost automatically, Darrell heard himself responding to Harold.
“I am gonna talk to Amberlynn at the dance this Friday,” he said.
“For real?” Harold exclaimed, looking shocked.
“Yeah, I’m gonna go.” Darrell could barely believe his own words. He knew Harold was surprised. Less than two months ago, Darrell was a scared and lonely kid who wted to run back to Philadelphia. Now he was on the wrestling team and preparing to go to a dance to meet a girl.
But each Friday when he paid Tyray, he felt as scared as he did during his first days at Bluford. That had not changed. Deep inside, Darrell knew that what he wanted would not come until he confronted Tyray, that nothing would be different as long as he kept paying him. But he was afraid to stop. Tyray and his friends would come after him if the money stopped, and Darrell knew he would have nowhere to hide. Thinking about it made Darrell shudder.
“Well, then, I’ll go too,” Harold said, breaking Darrell’s thoughts. “I’ve never been to a dance before.” Then he added shyly, “Maybe Cindy Gibson will be there too.”
“Cindy Gibson? Who’s that?”
“She lives down the hall from my apartment. She’s friends with Jamee and Amberlynn.”
“Well, if Jamee and Amberlynn are going, she’ll probably be there too.”
“I hope so,” Harold smiled.
The two boys shook hands and agreed they would go to the dance together.
At 8:00 Friday evening, Darrell and Harold met in front of Bluford. Dozens of students were streaming into the school when they arrived. Some were dropped off from cars and others were walking in large groups. Darrell and Harold joined a crowd heading down the school’s main hallway towards the cafeteria.
Several police officers as well as a handful of parents and teachers lined the hallways to make sure there would be no trouble at the dance. One of the teachers was Mr. Mitchell. Seeing so many adults made Darrell feel safer.
“Look at that!” Harold said, pointing forward. A police officer with a metal detector was up ahead of them. People were being checked for guns and knives before being let into the dance.
“Man, it looks like a prison, not a school,” Darrell replied. Still, he was grateful people were being checked for weapons. At least Tyray won’t have his knife, he thought.
As they neared the cafeteria, Darrell felt the deep rhythmic thumping of dance music growing stronger and stronger. Just outside the cafeteria doors, he could feel the beat vibrating in his chest and stomach. Darrell was nervous. He wondered if Amberlynn would even be there.
“I hope Cindy is here,” Harold said suddenly.
“Yeah, I know what you’re sayin’. I hope Amberlynn’s here, or I’m gonna feel pretty stupid,” Darrell replied. “She’s the reason I’m here.”
The cafeteria was rapidly filling up with kids. All the lunch tables had been cleared out to make a giant dance floor, and snowflakes and other winter decorations had been taped to the walls. Every minute, more and more kids arrived. Darrell recognized some from his classes.
Soon the cafeteria was nearly as full as it was at lunchtime. Some students were starting to dance. Darrell looked for Amberlynn, but he could not find her. He decided to buy a soda.
Darrell pulled a crumpled ten-dollar bill from his pocket. Before he left, his mother had told him he looked handsome. Then, adding that he should have fun, she gave him the money. As he paid for the drink, Darrell realized it was the first time in months that he had money which was not going to Tyray. He imagined the smirk on Tyray’s face each time Darrell gave him his mother’s money. He wished he would never see that smirk again. He shoved the change into his pocket and went back to join Harold.
The dance floor continued to fill up. So many people had arrived that it was impossible to see over the crowd to the other side of the cafeteria. Darrell guessed that there were several hundred people in the crowd, maybe more. He worried that Amberlynn might not come after all.
“Look, there she is,” Harold said, pointing. “Over there.”
Jamee and Amberlynn were weaving through the crowd to get to the dance floor. Darrell’s heart raced.
“Man, she looks good! ” Harold exclaimed. He took a gulp of Darrell’s soda. “So whatcha gonna do?”
Darrell shrugged. He was nervous. Wearing a snug blue dress for the dance, Amberlynn looked like a model out of a magazine. She also looked like someone who would never be interested in a guy like him, he thought. “I don’t know, Harold. Look at her.”
“You mean you came all this way so you could talk to her, and now you’re not gonna do anything except sit here? Get over there. I saw the way she looked at you at lunch. Go over and talk to her,” Harold demanded.
Just then Darrell saw Cindy walk by with a few of her friends. “Hey, there’s Cindy,” he said.
Harold turned to look at her. Darrell could tell by the expression on Harold’s face that he was suddenly nervous too. “So what are you gonna do?” he asked.
Harold smiled and shrugged his shoulders.
Darrell knew Harold was right. He had to try to talk to Amberlynn, but he had no idea what he
would say. He imagined himself stuttering and making a fool of himself. How could he ever go near her?
But a voice in his head told him he had to. If he did not talk to her, the voice said, he would be defeating himself again. If he wanted something to happen, he had to do something. When he imagined her laughing at him, he cringed. But when he imagined himself being too scared to approach her, he hated himself. He was tired of being scared. In either case, he realized he would not end up with Amberlynn. But if he spoke to her, at least he would know that he was not letting his fear beat him. He started walking over towards her.
“Where you going, Darrell?” Harold asked.
Darrell kept walking. He did not want anything to stop him.
He saw her in front of a group of students. She was saying something to Jamee as he approached them. Jamee saw him first.
“Hey, Darrell. What’s up?” Jamee asked with a wide grin on her face. “Uh, Amberlynn, I’m gonna go get something to drink. I’ll be right back,” she said. Then she left.
Darrell looked at Amberlynn. She smiled at him.
“Hi, Darrell,” she said warmly. “I saw you wrestle the other day. You looked so good out there. I couldn’t believe it was your first match.”
“Thanks,” Darrell said. He did not know what to say to her. Maybe what Jamee said was true, he thought. Maybe she did like him. “I still have a lot to learn,” he said. He was embarrassed about losing, but she did not seem to hold it against him.
“Look, Darrell, I’ve been meaning to talk to you. I’m sorry about what happened that day in English class with Tyray. I felt horrible. I should have never said what I did about you,” she said. Darrell was surprised at how sincere she sounded.
“Amberlynn, I’m the one who should be sorry,” Darrell replied. “I brought all that on you. I wish it never happened.” He shook his head.
“Why don’t we just put it behind us, okay?” Amberlynn said.