Football Genius (2007) (13 page)

THEY WORKED THE SAME
way on Friday, and Tate threw it fifteen yards again. Since she didn't turn twelve for another two weeks, Tate got to compete with a group of mostly fifth graders. On Saturday, after they played their football game with the Tigers, Tate, Nathan, and Troy took off their shoulder pads and trudged over to the field where the contest was being held.

The smells of grass and dirt mixed with grilling hot dogs and soda. Hundreds of parents and kids from all over Gwinett County milled about in the midday sunshine. In the middle of it all was a big white tent set up with tables underneath that were dressed up in red, white, and blue bunting. The trophies stood tall in gleaming rows, and Troy had a hard time taking his eyes off them. But when he looked over at Tate, he saw that her eyes were on the judges and a boy in a sleeveless T-shirt heaving a pass as the crowd cheered.

Nathan pulled a piece of notebook paper out of his sock. It was sweaty from the game, but on it they could still see his smudged calculations.

"Last year, seventy-six total yards won it for eleven-year-olds," he said, pointing.

"Anyone we know?" Troy asked.

"Jamie Renfro," Nathan said, twisting up his mouth. "Remember? He brought the trophy into the lunchroom at school."

Nathan held the paper out for Tate and pointed to the numbers. "You can kick it farther than anyone--I say thirty-two yards. If you can get off a great punt, close to thirty, say twenty-eight, then you can win it with a decent throw. Heck, you did fifteen yesterday."

They all looked at the numbers and the grand total of seventy-six, which Nathan had circled. A thirty-yard punt would be amazing, even for Tate. The kick, she could do. She was doubtful about the pass, but she signed in at the table and started stretching her kicking leg.

Each kid got three tries in every event. The judges took the highest one. Nathan checked the standings at another table, and when he returned, his face was sagging.

"Sheesh," he said, shaking his head. "That guy in the cutoff sleeves got seventy-eight."

Troy looked at Tate, who acted almost like she didn't hear. The only way he knew she really did hear Nathan was that the tip of her tongue poked out between her lips. The only other time she did that was when she was taking a math test. It meant she was focused.

Tate's kicking was great. Her kickoff went thirty-three yards, the longest of anyone, and her punt was twenty-nine. She was one of only a handful of girls, and when the crowd saw her kick, they cheered loudly, sensing a winner. Tate beamed at Troy and Nathan as she walked from the kicking station toward the passing area. All she had to do was come up with a big pass and she'd have it. Seth Halloway was in her grasp.

"Get mad," Troy told her. He helped stretch her arm and then rubbed her shoulders, loosening them. "Sixteen yards, just one more yard than yesterday. Get really mad."

Tate scowled and hefted the ball. The judge held up his little red flag, and Tate nodded at him. Then, with a shriek, she ran at the line and heaved the ball with all her might.

Fourteen yards.

Nathan let out a groan. The crowd's applause was barely polite, deflated after her spectacular kicking. She came back with her head down.

"It's okay," Troy said, handing her a water bottle. "You're getting warmed up."

She nodded, but her lower lip disappeared between her teeth and her hair fell, covering the sides of her face. She clutched the shoulder of her throwing arm with her other hand. Troy lifted her chin and saw tears.

"What's the matter?"

She shook her head. "I'm fine."

She picked up the ball. Up went the flag. She gave a growl and ran at the line. Twelve yards.

"You gotta be kidding," Nathan said, and stamped away.

No clapping at all this time. The crowd sensed she was losing it.

Troy did his best to cheer her up, but it was no use. Tate's arm obviously hurt her, and worse still, he could see that her confidence was shot. But when she turned toward the line, Troy saw that Nathan had worked his way around the crowd and behind the open field, where the judge stood with his small red flag. Behind the judge was a hedgerow separating the grass field from the adjoining neighborhood.

Nathan had wedged himself into the bushes. He had his thumbs jammed into his ears and his fingers spread out and wiggling. He stuck his tongue out and crossed his eyes. Even under the circumstances, Troy had to laugh. He nudged Tate. She saw Nathan and shook her head.

"Very funny," she said, bending down to tighten her shoelace.

"Holy smokes," Troy said, the words spilling out of his mouth. He looked around in panic.

Nathan was going to get himself arrested.

He'd bent over into the hedge so that the only thing anyone could see was his naked butt, shaking the bushes.

Troy heard some of the ladies in the crowd gasp. A few of the men began to shout, and one of the officials started jogging toward the hedge. Troy winced.

"That
idiot
," Tate growled. The flag went up. She grabbed the ball from Troy's hands and chucked it with a war cry.

The judge nodded his head. This time the crowd cheered. Tate didn't know how good it was, but she knew it was close enough to make them measure.

Nathan had disappeared. The official peered into the bushes but came out empty-handed.

The judge had a helper who stretched out the measuring tape. The judge bent over the spot where Tate's pass had landed. He seemed uncertain and tugged at the tape again, making sure every bit of the slack was gone, then he checked it again and stood up to announce the distance.

Tate plugged her ears.

"SIXTEEN YARDS, TWO FEET,
three inches," the judge said.

The crowd went wild.

Tate shook her hands in the air, but not to celebrate. She stomped back to Troy, scowling, and in a low hiss said, "I can't believe he
did
that."

"You won," Troy said.

"Yeah," she said, glaring at him, "the girl who threw to the moon. Everyone's gonna know. Thank God my parents aren't here. My dad will flip his lid."

Tate smiled at the judges, even though her face was red, and she accepted the big golden trophy along with the certificate to have lunch with Seth Halloway at Vickery's on Crescent Street in downtown Atlanta.

As the crowd began to leave, the two of them took their equipment as well as Nathan's and went to sit on the curb to wait for Troy's mom to pick them up on her way home from a special meeting she had at work.

"Where do you think he went?" Tate asked, looking around.

"He'll show up," Troy said.

And in fact, as Troy's mom pulled into the parking lot, Nathan stepped out of the bushes surrounding the park sign and slipped into the VW bug before either of them. Troy's mom asked about the game, and Tate told her they would have won if Coach Renfro had put Troy in. Troy's mom glanced over at him and patted his leg.

"Tate won the punt, pass, and kick," Troy said.

"You did? Congratulations," she said. "I know some of our players volunteered to have lunch with the winners. Who's your lunch with?"

His mom grinned at Tate in the rearview mirror. Nathan slouched down in his seat.

"Mrs. White," Tate said, "I need to ask you a favor. A big favor."

"What, honey?"

Tate told her how excited she was about her lunch but how her parents couldn't do it with her because of Bible study.

"Nothing comes between my parents and the Lord," she said.

"Certainly nothing wrong with that," Troy's mom said.

"And I got the player I love most," she said. "Not just because he's a great player, but because of all the nice things he does, you know, with sick kids and homeless people. Seth Halloway."

"Oh," Troy's mom said.

"He's my hero," Tate said, "and I was thinking, well, would you take me to the lunch? It says you have to have an adult."

Troy's mom glanced in the mirror. Her mouth was closed tight, and she blinked out at the road.

"I'll have to see about work," she said.

"It's like work, Mom," Troy said. "It's great PR, all the players doing this."

"I know it is," she said. "I actually put the sign up in the locker room and talked to some of the players about it. Maybe I can see if Seth could do it another time, when your parents are free."

It was silent for a moment before Troy quietly said, "Wouldn't it be easier just to do it instead of having to ask Seth a favor?"

His mom tucked her lower lip up under her teeth and put on her turn signal. They rounded a corner, and she nodded her head and said, "Okay, it's like work. I can do it."

They all cheered for her, and she smiled.

THE NEXT DAY, THE
Falcons lost to the Saints in New Orleans. Troy watched the game with his gramp on the couch, leaning and groaning and covering his face with a pillow, knowing that he could have helped but that they wouldn't let him. That whole week, desperation grew inside him like the kudzu vines that swarmed the roadsides of Atlanta. Jamie's moronic "Falcons Suck" song and dance hardly bothered him. He had real problems to think about, because if the team didn't win, McFadden would be gone, and so would his mom.

The next weekend finally came, and at breakfast on Saturday, Troy asked his mom to drop him off with Nathan at the High Museum while she and Tate were at the lunch. His mom turned her head and looked at him from the corner of her eye.

"The museum?" she said.

"We're studying the Egyptians in school, and Mrs. Arnott said they've got real mummies at the museum. That's kind of cool, right?"

His mom nodded slowly and said of course she'd take them. The phone rang shortly after that. It was Tate, asking his mom if she minded meeting her there. Tate said that even though he couldn't miss the Bible study, her father wanted very much to meet Seth Halloway and that he would drop her off and then head right out to the church.

Troy felt a little guilty tricking his mom in so many ways, but they were doing it for her own good. If they didn't do something fast, she'd be out of a job before Halloween.

After she dropped them at the museum, Troy grabbed Nathan by the arm and started to run inside.

"What are you doing?" Nathan asked.

"We gotta see the mummies," Troy said. "So we can tell my mom we saw them."

They got directions from the guard and sprinted through the hallways until they came to the beginning of the Egyptian exhibit.

"They're kinda small," Nathan said, staring through the glass.

"Come on," Troy said, taking a look, then dragging Nathan by the arm.

Vickery's was a good six blocks away. By the time they got there, his mom was already sitting on the brick terrace, alone with Seth Halloway.

Huffing and puffing, Troy and Nathan wormed their way in through the hedge on the side of the terrace and pushed up tight against the wall. The bricks were spaced in a way that left a two-inch gap between the next one, so Troy could not only hear what was going on, he could see.

Seth looked stiff, sitting there in a pale yellow polo shirt, his hair still wet, probably from a shower after the team's light Saturday-morning practice. Troy's mom didn't look much more encouraging. Her nose was buried in the menu.

She looked at her watch and said, "I'm sure she'll be here any minute."

"You'd think."

Seth looked around, and Troy knew they were talking about Tate. After a time, Nathan whispered into Troy's ear.

"Why aren't they doing anything?"

Troy pressed his fingers into the gaps between the bricks and held on. He closed his eyes and put his forehead against the cool, rough surface, willing his mom to look up at Seth and just smile. That's when her phone rang.

His mom answered it and said, "Tate? Where are you?"

Then she groaned and said she was sorry to hear that.

"Well," she said to Seth as she stood up, "she's not coming. Stomach bug. That's too bad--she was really excited."

Troy's mom extended her hand for a handshake.

Seth stood and shook her hand. Troy's mom gave it two quick pumps and picked up her purse, fishing for her keys.

Seth's face turned red.

"You know," he said, "we're here. You want to have lunch anyway?"

Troy put his knuckle into his mouth and bit down.

TROY'S MOM LOOKED UP,
trying not to smile. When she nodded her head, Troy held out his palm and Nathan slapped him five.

The boys listened to them talk, mostly about the Falcons. It wasn't until the check came that the topic changed.

Seth reached for the check and said, "Not to insult you, but I planned on buying lunch today anyway."

Troy's mom tilted her head. "I didn't mean to attack you like that," she said.

"I'm used to taking shots," he said. "That's how I make my living, remember?"

"Not from your friends, though," she said, her face turning color.

"So we're friends, huh?" Seth said, raising his eyebrows and wiping his mouth before setting his napkin on the table.

"Why not?" she said.

"Then we'll do this again?"

"Maybe," she said. "If you call me, I'll certainly check my schedule."

"Maybe? Wow. That hurts."

"I'm not one of these floozies who throws herself at you because you're a sports hero," she said. "Actually, I think that's somewhat of an oxymoron."

"I'm a moron now?" Seth said.

"No, an oxy-moron," she said with a chuckle. "Two things that are mutually exclusive--like how can someone involved in sports be a real hero? Get it?"

"Insulting," he said.

"I don't mean to be," she said. "I just think real heroes are soldiers and firemen and police, or teachers. Oh, I sound horrible. I'm sorry."

"No, that's all right," Seth said. "I think you're right."

"You do?"

"My dad was a cop," Seth said. "He got killed when I was three. There was a bank robbery."

"I'm so sorry," she said in a quiet voice.

Seth shrugged. "I never knew any different, really, not till later on. I guess that's why I know how Troy feels. You get to a certain age and it starts to hurt, not having that father there."

Troy felt his face get hot. He started to squirm and he wished Nathan wasn't listening. He tugged Nathan's arm and wiggled his way out of the bushes. The two of them stayed crouched until they reached the sidewalk.

"We better get back to the museum," Troy said.

"Yeah," Nathan said, nodding. "Good idea."

"It went good," Troy said after they'd traveled a block in silence.

"It seemed like they got along," Nathan said.

"At least enough so that she won't mind helping him, right?" Troy said.

They didn't stand in front of the museum for more than a few minutes before Troy's mom pulled up in her green bug.

"Where's Tate?" Troy asked.

"She got sick," his mom said.

"So how was it? Lunch?" Troy asked.

His mom didn't even look at him. She just said "Fine," and she had this dreamy look as she drove along, keeping her eyes on the road. Troy looked back at Nathan and winked.

At home Troy changed into his football uniform. The Tigers game didn't begin until five in the afternoon, and it was all the way out in Roswell. Troy didn't play, but it didn't bother him the way it usually did because he was thinking about the plan and how his mom was sure to go along with it, now that things were good with her and Seth. It didn't even bother him when Jamie ran a quarterback sneak into the end zone for an easy one-yard touchdown and then showed Troy the ball when he got to the bench as if he'd completed a fifty-yard pass.

It was late by the time he and his mom got home from the game. The sun had gone down behind a thick bank of clouds. His mom warmed up some lasagna and then made ice-cream sundaes with hot fudge and walnuts. Troy waited until the kitchen was cleaned up and they were just sitting at the table with a couple bottles of soda. It felt like the perfect time.

"He's a good guy, that Seth, huh?" Troy said, peering at her with one eye from around the edge of the pale green bottle.

"Yes. He seems to be," his mom said, setting her own bottle down and staring at him.

"What?" Troy asked.

"Just thinking," she said, turning the bottle around and around without moving it from its place on the checkered tablecloth.

"Me too," Troy said.

"Yeah?" she said. "About what?"

Troy tried to keep the excitement out of his voice. It was hard.

"Mom," he said, "you have to listen to this. I've got a plan."