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Welcome to the Church of The Reverend Cotton Mather.  This story is
the sole property of the author, and may not be copied or downloaded 
for the intent of profit. Permission is freely given for anyone to 
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   (Copyright 2002, revisions c. 2007, R.C. Mather)

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PLAYING THE GAME

A Novel

by R.C. Mather




- 24 -

CONTAINED GRIEF AND ANGER



The arrangement my parents worked out was that my dad was going to
drop me off at school in the mornings and my mom would be waiting for
me at the end of soccer practice in the afternoons. I climbed out of
my father's car the next morning and walked dejectedly into school,
about five minutes before my first class was to start.

I sat down next to Jake and growled at him.

"Thanks a lot, pal. 'I won't get caught. You can count on me,'" I
mimicked him derisively. "I guess I know now what your word is
worth," I added disgustedly.

"Look, Sean, I'm really sorry. But we really got caught red-handed.
When Jaimie's dad found out about it, he was really pissed, you know?
Going on and on about how I stole his daughter's innocence, I could
go to jail for rape, all sorts of shit like that. I panicked, okay?"

"That's great to know, Jake. That makes me feel a whole lot better."

"Yeah, well, you at least didn't have to face Mr. Jacks. He was so
mad, I didn't think I was going to leave the room alive." He seemed
to shiver at the memory. "You know, Jaimie's sister Tara has been
spying on us, I think. She may have been the one who ratted on us."

"Why would she do that, Jake?"

"Ah, hell, I don't know. She's really been acting weird lately.
Remember the picnic? She hasn't gotten any easier to be around."

"That's just too freaky. Okay, Jake, maybe I can understand why it
happened. But that doesn't make my situation any better."

"Yeah, I know. All I can say is that I'm sorry, Sean. I really am."



* * * * * * * * * *



I quietly told Molly what happened when I saw her at lunch. She was
very upset that she was only seconds away from being caught in my
room, but that feeling passed very quickly. She got a bright look in
her eyes.

"You want to live dangerously, Sean Porter?" she whispered. "I might
have another plan to come visit you one of these nights."

I nearly choked on my soda. "Christ, no, Molly! Are you nuts?"

She chuckled. "Maybe I am," she murmured. "Maybe I just am."



* * * * * * * * * *



True to her word, my mom was there to pick me up after soccer
practice. It was a cold, silent ride home, and a cold and silent
evening spent in my room, catching up on schoolwork. No radio, no
stereo, no noise was allowed during my incarceration. I went to bed
early, a little scared that I would hear the door creak open and see
Molly standing there. But fortunately, nothing of the kind happened.

The rest of the week was more of the same. I talked to my friends at
school, but had no contact with anyone after I got home. It helped
that I was trying to work myself into exhaustion during soccer
practice. Coach Neville had put a lot of pressure on me as Skip's 
replacement, and I wanted to do the best I could do. I was
messing up a lot during practice, and it was making some of my
teammates nervous and a little mad. My attitude was that I could mess
up during practice, as long as I played well in the game. My goal was
to play well when it counted, and not worry too much about how
practices were going.

The only truly bright spot to the week was on Thursday afternoon,
when Coach Neville announced to the team that Theo had been brought
successfully out of his coma, and was awake and alert. That news
cheered everybody up considerably.

Finally it was Friday, game day. This was to be our first game
without Skip and Theo, and it was a home game. There was a general
announcement at school in the morning, asking the student body to
support the team. We were expecting standing room only at the game.

I was sitting in the locker room with my teammates, half listening
while Coach was giving us some last-minute instructions. I was
nervous as hell.

"Now, remember, people, this team will probably test our right side
early on." Coach Neville looked over in my direction. "So, Sean and
Kevin, be ready for anything. Sean, you're an unknown quantity to our
opponents, so don't be afraid to show them what you're made of. Kevin
should be able to head off some of their attacks, and our sweeper and
keeper will be watching out, so just go out and play your game."

I nodded, and looked over at Kevin. He was sitting with his head
down, lost in his own thoughts. Thinking about Skip and Theo, no 
doubt.

Finally, it was time to take the field. We trotted out and began our
warm-ups. When the starting lineups were announced and my name was
called, it still startled me. I was still half expecting Skip to show
up and take his accustomed spot on the field.

We took our positions, and the partisan crowd in the stands gave us
a standing ovation as the referee blew his whistle to start the game.
It was a great show of support for the team, and we appreciated it.

Just as Coach Neville had predicted, the Hamersville Lions did try
our right side at the first opportunity. Now that the game was
underway, my nervousness was gone and I could see how their plays
were designed. I'd been in baseball games when the ball seemed like
it was the size of a grapefruit and I couldn't miss hitting it. For
me, this game was just like that. The soccer ball looked to be about
the size and weight of a basketball, moving in slow motion across the
field. I seemed to have plenty of time to get into position to make a
play on it without any interference from the Hamersville midfielders
or forwards. I was trapping the ball and moving it up at will,
dribbling forward or passing it up to Kevin whenever the Lions worked
it over into my area. Three times, then four, they deliberately
tested our defense on my side. Each time, they were soundly rebuffed.
Finally, they gave up on the maneuver and tried our left side. They
were no more successful there either, and by the halftime whistle, we
were up 2-0.

The first forty-five minutes of the game went by incredibly fast. I
was still feeling very energetic, almost hyper. I trotted over to the
sidelines with the rest of the team, grabbed a paper cup of water and
poured it over my head. I reached for another one to drink. Kevin was
there, handing me a cup, a huge smile on his face.

"You're playing great, Sean. I don't think they're going to be
trying to get by you anymore this game."

John Pennington chimed in. "That first steal was incredible, Sean.
Way to go. I guess I don't have to worry about that side of the field
after all, do I?"

"Oh, yes, you do," I said. "It's probably just beginner's luck, so
don't go falling asleep on me, okay?"

"All right," said John with a laugh. "You just keep playing the way
you're playing though, and we'll be fine back there with nothing to
do."

I was jittery with all the adrenaline pumping through me, anxious to
get back on the field. I hopped up and down, pacing the sidelines,
wishing the whistle would blow soon so I could start running again. I
looked down the bench and saw Coach and Trent leaning over a dismayed
Eric, both of them talking intently to him at the same time. Eric
looked from one to the other, nodding at each of them in turn, a
towel over his head and an untouched cup of water in his hand. I
didn't notice anything in the first half that should have caused them
to be yammering at him. Then again, I was so intent on protecting my
own turf that once the ball left my area, I just tracked it down the
field instead of paying attention to who was doing what with it.

The ref blew his whistle to start the second half, and we all
trotted out to take our positions.

The full forty-five minutes of the second half seemed to move in
some sort of dreamlike state. On the one hand, the time flew by so
quickly, it seemed like I was out on the field for about seven or
eight minutes. On the other hand, it was like everything was moving
in slow motion. I had plenty of time to get to the ball, and each
time I would pass long, the ball would arc majestically through the
crystal air, taking its sweet time to land just where I wanted it to
land. It was a magical, very scary evening, full of contained grief
and anger. Grief conflicted with awe, being able to play this game
contradicting the raw fact of our fallen teammates, sparked a hidden
well of anger at Richie Del Toro and his band of rogues. I felt it in
me, and I thought I could detect it in my comrades on the pitch. It
heightened my senses, throwing me headlong into something resembling
a dreamlike state. I rode the feeling throughout the second half,
letting my emotions manifest themselves in my play. At the end of it
all, in a denouement that was only reluctantly admitted, we won the
game by a score of 4-1.

After the game, as I was sitting on the bench with the rest of the
team, the adrenal glands finally shut down and out of production. I
went into a severe case of the shivers, so bad that I could hardly
stand. Eric, Jorge, and Kevin helped me back to the locker rooms and
sat me down on a bench. Eric ran out to get my father, who came in to
find me almost comatose, shivering and exhausted from the emotions of
the game. My dad took one arm, and Eric took the other. They guided
me out into the parking lot and into the back seat of my dad's car. 
Once there, I finally just collapsed and pretty much passed out.

I vaguely remember the car doors slamming, the car starting up, and
the tires crunching through the gravel of the back parking lot. My
mom and my dad were talking about me on the way home, but it all
sounded like a huge hive of bees in the car, buzzing and hovering
around my ears. I couldn't make out a word they were saying, and I
just didn't have the energy to care as I lay there, mostly
unconscious and completely wasted.



* * * * * * * * * *



The next week was a very strange combination of sadness, euphoria,
and grinding boredom. Our tiny local paper had covered the game, and
the Metro Times picked up their report on Monday for their High
School Sports section. The human-interest side of the story, about
our first game after Skip and Theo's accident, was the focus, but
they did also have a write-up about the game itself. Eric Johnson was
singled out as "the new speedster in the midfield" and praised for
scoring a goal on his first start. They also painted an entirely too
flattering picture of our defense in general, and Sean Porter
specifically, bantering about phrases such as "playing exceptionally
well under extraordinary circumstances," and "a surprisingly volatile
defensive style," whatever that meant. I thought that, if they had
seen me in my dad's car after the game, they probably wouldn't have
been so complimentary.

Coach Neville announced to the team that Theo was having difficulty
coping with the results of the accident. He suggested that we make an
effort to stop by the hospital and visit with him sometime that week
to try to cheer him up.

Poo-Poo was arraigned on manslaughter charges and was still in the
local jail. The others who were with him were released on bond. The
rest of the Bulls had changed their ways, in light of the troubles
facing their leader and friends. They were back in school, but they
were making an effort to separate themselves from Poo-Poo. They were
sporting a new look, dressing preppy in new clothes, with their hair
cut and clean, and in general, keeping a very low profile. It didn't
work very well. They were still hazed and harassed for their
association with Del Toro.

Another interesting factoid surfaced during that week. It seemed
that Allison Moseley, the buxom ditz who was hanging on Theo at the
pool party, was the object of Vinnie Arilio's affections. He was so
enraged when he heard about Theo doing her that he may have convinced
Richie to go out looking for Theo that Saturday night.

I was still under house arrest myself. Dad dropped me off in the
mornings but by the end of the week, he was getting pretty irritated
with the routine. Mom picked me up in the afternoons. I spent the
rest of the time at home, either up in my room doing homework or
watching TV with the rest of the family. Fortunately, Molly's better
instincts kept her from trying to sneak into my house. I missed
kissing and holding her though, and I knew she was missing me, too.
On Wednesday at lunch, she told me just how much she missed being
with me.

We were sitting together at one of the long tables in the cafeteria
with a bunch of other kids. Like cafeterias everywhere, it was noisy
and boisterous in the large room. Molly was wearing a plaid
wraparound skirt with a big brass safety pin as an accessory holding
it together, and a fuzzy sweater that fit her very well. She leaned
over to whisper something in my ear.

"I really miss you, Sean," she breathily said.

"I miss you, too, Mol," I answered.

"No, Sean," she said. "I really, really miss you." She flicked her
tongue against my earlobe.

I flinched back. "What are you doing, Molly?!?" God, not here in the
lunch room, I thought, panic-stricken.

She grabbed my hand and pressed it to the inside of her thigh, under
her skirt. She kept her hand on top of mine to keep me from jerking
it away.

"Trying to let you know how much I miss you, silly." She tried to
move my hand up further on her leg, but I was nearly frantic in my
efforts to look calm while I tried to yank away from her. As it was,
I wasn't going to be able to stand up anytime soon because of her.

She nipped my earlobe between her teeth and bit down lightly,
sending shivers through me. "What if I told you I wasn't wearing any
panties?" she whispered. That sent even more shivers through me. She
grabbed my wrist with both hands and pulled my hand up further on her
leg. I felt the bottom seam of her underwear as my fingers brushed
against her damp pussy. I sighed, but whether in relief or in
frustration, I wasn't sure.

She chuckled throatily as she let me go, her skirt falling back in
place under the table. "You're just too easy to flip up, Porter," she
said. She turned back to her lunch as if nothing had happened.

"Molly, I can't help it if I'm grounded. I wish I wasn't too, you
know."

"Well, you'd better figure something out soon. I'm really getting...
itchy." She wadded up her wrappers and stood up to leave. She gave me
a wink and sauntered away, hips swishing her skirt from side to side,
knowing I was watching her.

I groaned in frustration. I was done with lunch but I still couldn't
stand up without embarrassing myself. 'Damn her,' I thought to myself.
She was really going to get me in hot water some day.



* * * * * * * * * *



Our game that Friday was an away game. We took a school bus to
Rockton Heights High School while a convoy of kids from school
followed us to the game. This game was against our toughest rival in
our conference, and we were all worked up about coming away with a
victory. There were only three more games in the regular season, and
we wanted to be playing at our peak for the playoffs. This game would
be a good test for our realigned left offense, as well as our right
defense.

Practice this past week had gone well, especially after our win the
week before. We worked on plays and made mistakes galore, knowing
that it was all a learning process for us as a team. I hoped that the
mistakes would be left on the practice field again.

The game was surprisingly emotional. Rockton Heights asked their
fans to give a moment of silence in honor of our fallen players.
Their entire team came over to our bench and shook our hands before
the starting lineups were announced. It brought a lump to my throat,
and I don't think I was the only member of our team who suddenly had
blurry vision.

The game was every bit as tough as it was hyped to be. Their defense
was strong, and they had one of the best forwards in the state on
their team, playing in the middle. Their left forward, playing on my
side of the field, was a cagey senior who was not going to let a
sophomore like me get the best of him. He was trash-talking at me
through the first half, taunting and daring me to challenge him, both
on and off the ball. Just before the end of the half, he took a give-
and-go from his midfielder and tried to end-run me, but I slid down
and managed to knock the ball out of bounds. On the throw-in, Rockton
sent most of their players up, leaving only two defenders and the
keeper back, trying to make the most of a scoring opportunity. I saw
that they were going to throw across to the middle, so I signaled to
Kevin to switch, and I raced over just as the throw was made. I got
there in time to step in front of the intended receiver, trapped the
ball, and headed upfield as fast as I could go. Their defensive
midfielder angled over to cut me off, but I saw Eric streaking down
the middle, wide open and calling for the ball. I passed it over to
him and took off past the startled defender into the open space on
the side. Eric trapped the ball, took two steps with it and rocketed
it back over to me. The last defender was caught between us,
undecided about who he should cover. Eric and I made his momentary
hesitation cost him. He ran toward me, leaving Eric unguarded, so I
crossed the ball. Eric then powered it into the back of the net
unobstructed. I ran over to him, yelling and screaming, and he jumped
up into me, knocking us both to the ground. We got up just as the
rest of the team rushed over to us to congratulate us on the goal. We
trotted back over to our side for the kickoff. A moment later, the
whistle ending the first half sounded.

The second half didn't go quite so well. Rockton made some
adjustments to their game, and scored two quick goals in succession
before we could figure out their changes. The game see-sawed back and
forth from then on. First Rockton took the offensive, and then we
tried attacking. No one scored until a hand ball was called inside
the box on one of their defensemen. We scored on the penalty kick,
and time ran out in regulation with the score tied, 2-2.

We played a ten-minute overtime period scoreless, and had one more
overtime period to play in sudden death. If nobody scored, we would
have to go to a penalty-kick shoot-off to decide the game. This was
something neither side wanted.

We were on the bench trying to catch our breath before the start of
the second overtime period. The batteries were just about drained on
all of the starters. Coach was considering substituting some of his
players in favor of fresh legs. In the end, he opted for experience 
on the field at that crucial stage.

It was a mistake. Rockton did substitute, and their fresh players
were able to control the ball while we were always one step behind,
because of our weariness. In the sixth minute, they had a corner kick
against us, and they made the most of it. The kick came out to about
eighteen meters from goal. Kevin made a play on the ball but stumbled
as he went for it. The Rockton midfielder passed it back to the
kicker on the side, angling out from the corner, who fired it in at
the goal. He was mine to cover and I didn't get to him in time. John
tried diving for it, but was a fraction too late. The ball hit the
back of the net and made it flutter. Rockton had defeated us in the
second overtime period, 3-2. We congratulated them, trudged over to
the bench to pack up our gear, stripped off our shoes, sodden socks
and shin guards, and stuffed them into our bags.

We walked dejectedly to the bus and climbed on for the long ride
back to our school. On the way back, as we were sucking down water
from a big cooler set up in the back, Coach tried to put a positive
spin on the game. He congratulated us on our play and admonished us
that one loss so far in the season was of little consequence. We were
all too tired to do anything but sit there and listen to his words
wash over us, each drawn in on our own thoughts about where we might
have done better during the game.

By the time we got back to the school, the caravan that had gone to
support us at the game had already arrived. Instead of leaving to go
home, nearly all the kids and parents had stayed in the school
parking lot to wait for our bus. They were applauding and cheering us
as we stumbled out and onto the blacktop of the parking lot. To a
man, the entire team was surprised and gratified at the show of
support. I saw Molly, and Heather and Evan, and Toby and Jen and Sam,
and Jake and Kayla, and Josh, and everybody else there, standing
around us in a semicircle as we gathered our gear and moved off into
the crowd. My parents were there, too, with my brother Stephen. My
dad grabbed my bag and carried it to the car as my mom put her arm
around my shoulder, heedless of the grime and sweat. She held me
close as we walked slowly through the parking lot. I crawled into the
back seat and lay back, my head lolling against the rear cushion.

As he started the car, my dad said, "You played a great game
tonight, son. We're very proud of you."

I had nothing to say to that. Exhaustion leaked from every pore.
Finally, I managed to mumble, "Thank you."

"You know," continued my father, "your mother and I have been
talking about you. We think you might have been grounded for long
enough. We'll talk about lifting at least part of your sentence in
the morning."

"Okay," I mumbled, too tired to say more.




(Continued in Chapter 25)


  
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