I watch the game, miserable on the bench as we give up another goal. By the fourth quarter all I want to do is go home.
We’re shut out by one of the worst teams in the league. While the other team celebrates their surreal and unexpected victory, our coach lays into us, which is just what we deserve—or at least I deserve it. If we lose one more game, we won’t even qualify for league finals. Killer practices all next week.
I should go straight home, but I don’t. Instead I take a detour to Ahab’s—our neighborhood coffeehouse trying painfully hard to be Starbucks, down to the obvious rip-off names of their drinks. I figure I’ll stop in for a Phrappuccino to console myself, but even before I reach for the door, I see them inside.
Katrina sits beside a bald kid with a bandaged face.
And his hand is on her knee.
All of a sudden it’s Mom and the fur ball all over again; and I keep walking, never going inside, trying to figure out which of the two sights is worse: Mom and her boyfriend or Katrina and Ozzy. Now more than ever I just want to get home.
So Katrina’s playing nurse again, just like she did when we first started going out. She’s taken in the wounded while hitting my ejection button in one smooth stroke. And how unfair is it that I can’t even walk in there and punch him out since I already broke his freaking nose? Home! The second I get in the front door and close it behind me, I start to feel better. I find Brontë in the living room working on some project with Brewster. Papers are spread on the coffee table.
Brontë looks up when she sees me. “How was the game?” she asks.
“They lost,” Brew says.
“How can you tell?” she asks.
“Isn’t it obvious?”
“The game went fine,” I say, not wanting to get into it. It’s over. Now that I’m home, it’s history. Even thinking about Ozzy and Katrina doesn’t feel quite so horrifying.
In the kitchen, Mom marinates meat for Dad, who’s out back getting the barbecue going—something he rarely does this time of year. I scavenge the fridge, and Mom says, “Don’t ruin your appetite!”
Normal.
How could anything be wrong when everything at home feels so perfectly normal?
By the time I get up to my room and stretch out on my bed, I can feel the last of my frustration leave me. It feels like I’m enveloped in an invisible security blanket. All is well with the world. And all will be well with Katrina—because I’m already working the angles, formulating a plan. There are two things that go straight to Katrina’s heart: injury and victory. Well, Ozzy’s got injury all locked up—but victory is mine. Or at least it will be.
54) AGENDUM
I wouldn’t say I’m a selfish person. No more than anyone else. When it comes down to it, everyone has an agenda, even if we don’t know what it is at the time. There are lots of times I’ll do the right thing even if it’s against my own self-interest, too. It all depends on the circumstances. There are things that shift the balance, though. I know exactly where that balance has shifted when I go into Brewster and Cody’s room that night.
Cody lies on the blow-up mattress, lost in a comic book, while Brew reads a skinny little book of poetry that most guys wouldn’t be caught dead with. His eyes rise over the edge of the book and meet mine.
“You were right about us losing the game,” I tell him.
He turns a page in his book. “It doesn’t take a brain surgeon.”
“No, I guess not.” I fiddle with the doorknob for a moment. “Well, I just wanted to let you know that I’ve changed my mind.”
“About what?”
“About you coming to my games.”
Now he puts down the book, getting more interested. “Why?”
I shrug like it’s nothing. “Just because.”
“Maybe I don’t want to be at your games.”
“Suit yourself.” I turn to leave.
He stops me. I knew he’d stop me. “Maybe I’ll come if you tell me the truth.”
And so I do. Or at least part of it. “Our team needs to win the next few games to qualify for league finals,” I tell him. I don’t talk about Katrina since he doesn’t like her anyway. “If I play well enough, I might even be in the running for MVP.”
That’s when Cody looks up from his comic book, and I realize that he wasn’t in his own superhero universe at all—he’s been right here all along, listening to everything. He knows what I’m asking Brew to do. He knows what it means. Suddenly I feel guilty, like maybe I don’t want a witness.
Brew picks up his book again and pretends to read, but his concentration isn’t there like it was before. “I thought you said it was cheating.”
“I said it feels like cheating. There’s a difference.”
“I’ll think about it,” he says, but I know he’s already decided to do it. It would all be good if it weren’t for Cody. Those eyes of his just look up at me, pupils dilated in the diffused light of the room. Wide, black pools, seeking out galaxies.
55) UNPRECEDENTED
Brew and I have an understanding. Brew and I are a team on the field. So what if the coach doesn’t know he has a secret player? I start the game feeling like I can take on the world, but today we’re just taking on the Billington Bullets. They’re highly ranked, and a tough team to beat—but I make it clear what kind of game this is going to be right away. I score in the first minute of play. From the first face-off, I rule the field with unprecedented speed and agility—rising from hard falls, disregarding the hardest of stick checks, and never losing an ounce of energy. I’m golden.
And Katrina is there to see it. I made her promise to come.
“I need you there,” I had told her. “Please…you inspire me.”
I hated to beg, but she has to see me. It will all be for nothing if she doesn’t see.
I keep glancing over at Brew, just to check in and see how he’s holding up. He paces off by himself at the edge of the field, a little worn, a little out of breath. He leans back against the fence and gives me a thumbs-up. I resolve that if I get MVP, I’ll give him the trophy. I’ll keep Katrina.
Halftime! It’s 4 to 1—and I scored all four goals. The coach smiles and looks at me like I’m his own son. “That’s what I’m talking about, Tennyson!” he says. “Show ’em what we’re made of!”
“Can I stay in for the whole game?”
“Keep playing like that and you can stay in till New Year’s!”
The rest of the game is a study in humiliation for the Bullets. With thirty seconds remaining, I seal the Bullets’ fate by scoring my sixth goal of the game. I’ve scored six of our eight goals.
The whistle blows, and it’s all over! My team races to me, and in a second I’m lifted up in the air— levitation by glory! But I don’t bask for too long. As soon as I’m back down on the ground, I’m bounding over to Katrina.
“I’m glad you came!” I pull her in for a quick kiss. She doesn’t resist, but she does try to pull away after a second, because, after all, I’m sweaty.
“Sorry,” I tell her. “I’ll shower and we’ll go out to celebrate.”
“You should celebrate with the team.”
“Plenty of time for that!”
“Listen, Tennyson…I’m happy for you and all, and you were great out there, you really were…but I’m meeting Ozzy.”
I’m listening, but I’m not really hearing, because I’m not over myself yet. “So ditch him,” I tell her. “I know you feel sorry for him and all, and I know I shouldn’t have hit him so hard, and you’re right about how all the stuff going on between my parents was driving me crazy—but I’m okay now.” I put my arm around her, and she pulls away again.