Suspended (4 page)

7

But I don't do drugs,” said Toby.

“I don't know anything about drugs and I don't want to,” Julie added firmly.

“Neither do I,” I admitted. “But the Code says no drugs, so if we're going to break every rule, we have to find some. I know who to ask.”

“Who?” asked Toby.

“Ice,” I said.

Ice was already in Grade 6 when we started kindergarten. Now he was at the high school. I knew him — sort of — because just after I'd started kindergarten, I got lost on my way to class and ended up down by the gym, where the Grade 6 students used to hang out in the changing rooms. One of them came out and said, “There's a baby in the hallway.” Another looked out and said, “Bring him in here. Give him a smoke.” One took my hand and started to lead me into the changing rooms when Ice came out and said, “Quit it.” They let me go immediately. Ice bent down to me and said, “I guess you're looking for Miss Little's room. Go down there and turn right — you know which is your right? — and you'll see it in front of you.” He watched me walk uncertainly back down the hallway. When I reached the place he'd told me to turn right, I looked back, and he gave an encouraging nod. After that, although we never spoke, whenever he saw me he'd give a tiny wink of his eye. When he went to high school I saw him only occasionally, around the town, or watching our soccer games, and he was always with a bunch of older students. But we still acknowledged one another, he by lifting his index finger and carving a small arc in the air, me with a little nod of my head. I wouldn't say we were friends — but it was a kind of acquaintance.

“How do you know Ice has drugs?” asked Toby.

“Everybody knows,” I said.

Julie nodded in agreement.

“How do you know where to find him?” Toby persisted.

“Everybody knows that, too,” I said.

Julie nodded again.

“Everybody except me, I guess,” said Toby.

It was two days after the kiss-in and we were on Main Street, walking home from school. I led the way as we cut down the alley between Valley Hardware and the Main Street Convenience to Main Street Parallel, a dirt road that runs behind the businesses on Main Street. Ice was on the other side of the road, at the edge of a patch of dense, scrubby woods. He was huddled with two high school students, and they were smoking. I beckoned to him. He said something to his friends and they laughed. He sauntered over. His jeans and his sweat shirt and his long trench coat were black, and his long, wild, curly hair was black, too. It hung over his eyes. His face was thin and carved inwards under his cheek bones.

He sucked on his cigarette, threw it on the ground, and trod on it. “What's up, guys?”

His voice was low and raspy.

I took a deep breath. “Do you have any drugs?”

He looked us over and grunted, “What sort of drugs?”

“Any sort.”

“Dextromethorpham?”

I nodded. “Sounds good.”

“That's cough medicine.”

“Oh.”

“You want something a little stronger? This stuff's good.”

He produced a small plastic container and shook some white powder from it into the palm of his hand. “Try some.” He held his hand towards Toby.

Toby looked from the powder to Ice. “Do I lick it or sniff it?”

Ice laughed. “You can do what you like with it but it won't give you much of a buzz. It's baby powder. I use it to stop my collar chafing.” He rubbed it on his neck and went on, “I'd guess you guys are new to the drug scene.”

“We've used plenty of drugs,” Julie retorted quickly.

“Like what, darling?” Ice challenged.

“Don't call me darling,” she snapped.

“What do you want me to call you — sweetheart?”

Julie snorted, folded her arms, and looked away.

Ice laughed again. “Look — I know what you're doing. You're breaking all the rules — right? We heard about it up at the high school, and it's cool. Of course, all your little rebellion is going to get you is a load of trouble, but it's cool. Now, if you want to break the rule about drugs, there's an easier way than getting into any stupid bad stuff.”

“What easier way?” I said.

“Like just smoke a cigarette — a regular cigarette — and swig a beer. Nicotine and alcohol are drugs.”

“I hadn't thought of that,” I admitted.

“How were you planning to let the principal know you were doing the drugs thing?” Ice went on. “I suppose you were going to take the stuff down to the playground and do it there.”

“Well …” I started.

“That'd be really smart. I'll do something else for you. I'll put the word around you've been drinking and smoking, so it gets back to your school.”

“How will you do that?”

“Leave it to me.”

“But we'll still have to do it.”

“I understand.”

He fished in the pockets of his trench coat and produced a cigarette and matches. He lit the cigarette. “Here. Take one puff each and don't inhale. I don't want you puking over me.”

We passed the cigarette around. When it was my turn I sucked briefly, and quickly released the smoke. I felt like a dirty stovepipe.

Ice said, “Smoking's a stupid, dirty habit.”

“So why do you do it?” Julie challenged.

“Don't ask, darling,” he growled.

“Don't call me darling,” she snapped.

Ice chuckled and produced a can of beer from his trench coat — I wondered what else he had in his pockets — and said, “You'd better do your drinking here, too.”

He flipped it open and ordered, “One mouthful each. Leave the rest for me.”

I was last to take a swig. It tasted like flat pop mixed with dirt.

I passed the can back to Ice and said, “What do we owe you?”

“You've given me a laugh. That's enough.”

We didn't speak all the way home.

I don't know how Ice did it, but Mr. Justason had learned about our latest rule breaking by the following morning. Before first class even started his voice on the intercom ordered Toby, Julie and me to report to the office, where he told us he'd heard about our party of the night before.

“Party?” I said.

“Your party on Main Street Parallel, where drink and drugs were consumed,” he said.

“Oh,” I said. “That party.”

Mr. Justason consulted a paper on his desk. “With the demerits you've already accumulated you won't be playing soccer for a long time.” He looked steadily at us. “There can't be any more rules for you to break.”

8

The next time we played on the Cemetery Road, Julie said wistfully, “This is fun — but I wish we could have a real game, on a real soccer field.”

We were sitting on the bank, taking a break from our scrimmage.

“We've got nearly the whole team here,” Brian pointed out. “All we need is someone to play against.”

“All the schools have a team,” said Julie. “We're just not allowed to play against them.”

“Who says?” I asked.

“Justason and Dugalici,” said Julie.

“They said we're not allowed to play at school — nothing about playing against other schools.”

“But we're not a school team,” said Brian.

“And we'd have to be in the league, so the schools would have time to schedule games,” Julie added.

“So let's join the league!” I said.

We looked at one another. Brian raised his eyebrows.

“Why not?” I urged.

“Only one problem,” Julie said. “We would have to contact the league people — we'd need an adult for it to sound right.”

“Or someone who sounds like an adult,” I said. “Someone who's not too concerned with rules … Someone who's out of the mainstream …”

* * *

“You've got to be kidding,” said Ice.

Julie and I had found him on Main Street Parallel. He was by himself, smoking on the edge of the woods.

“All you have to do is use an adult voice and act grown up …” I pleaded.

“I am grown up.”

“Pretend you're our soccer coach …” Julie added.

“And ask if our soccer team can join the league for the rest of this season,” I finished.

“What's in it for me?”

“We'll owe you,” I offered.

“You bet you will.”

I produced a flyer that the league had sent to schools at the beginning of the season and pointed to the bottom of the page. “There's the person to contact — Charles Finch, President. You can call from my house.”

“I'll do the dirty deed now,” said Ice. He searched in his pockets for a small, red cellphone. He punched in the number at the bottom of the page, and spoke in a deeper voice than usual. “Good afternoon, Mr. Finch … This is Ice … er … Mr. Ice … Just call me Ice … I'd like my soccer team to play in the league … Yes, I know it's late in the season … Yes, my players would be happy to do that … What school? Oh … ah … Cemetery Road School …”

I looked at Julie and whispered, “Cemetery Road School?”

Ice went on, “It's a small private school in Brunswick Valley … Recently started playing soccer … The school address is … er … Cemetery Road, Brunswick Valley … Thank you, Mr. Finch. We appreciate your cooperation.”

He folded his cellphone away.

“Well?” I prompted.

“You're in the league,” said Ice.

“Thank you,” Julie smiled. “That was brilliant.”

“Mr. Finch said there was a vacancy in the league because one school had dropped out …”

“That'd be Brunswick Valley,” I said.

“… But you'd have to play all your games away because he didn't want to ask the other schools to travel when he's just told them they won't have to.”

“That's good, because we don't have a field,” I said.

“That's not all,” Ice added. “The other teams will play twice as many games — home and away. Mr. Finch said that was the only way you could join.”

“How does a school contact us to arrange a game?” I said. “They'll need a telephone number.”

“They've got one,” said Ice. “Finch has call display. He said he'd recorded my number and that they would be calling to arrange the games. So I guess I'll be getting the calls.”

“You'll be our manager,” said Julie, grinning.

“You really owe me,” Ice threatened.

* * *

Ice was waiting at the school gate the next day.

“You've got a game on Friday,” he said. “Their coach called last night. You're playing Keswick Narrows. How are you going to get there?”

“I hadn't thought of that,” I admitted.

Keswick Narrows is a few kilometres upriver. The houses there are bigger than the ones in Brunswick Valley. They all have huge lawns and lots of flowers.

“Figures,” Ice scoffed. “I suppose you're expecting me to help out again.”

“Can you?” I said hopefully.

“I've got a friend with a van...” Ice began.

“Our parents wouldn't want us riding in a stranger's van,” I said doubtfully.

“But you know me, and it's my friend who has the van, so it's not really a stranger's van.”

“Is it … safe?”

“He has a licence to drive groups around, and it's covered for insurance and everything, if that's what you mean. He even takes his church youth club on trips. You'd just have to give him gas money.”

I told the team about the game when we met at the Cemetery Road after supper. Keswick Narrows was far enough away that we shouldn't be recognized. How would Justason and the others react if they knew we were playing in the league? How would Mr. Finch react if he heard about our deception? Surely they would disapprove.

“Can we have a name for our team?” said Toby. “‘Cemetery Road' is a bit sad.”

“Well — since we have to wander around for games,” I said thoughtfully, “we could call ourselves the Wanderers — the Cemetery Road Wanderers.”

It was also like the name of the club Grandad had played for when he was a goalkeeper — the Newcastle Wanderers. Everyone seemed pleased with the name.

In the middle of our meeting, Ice sauntered down the slope from the woods on the edge of the cemetery.

“Just checking up on my team,” said Ice. “Your van will be at the Portage Street gate right after school tomorrow. Now I'm wondering about your tactics.”

I turned to Ice. “What do you mean?”

“By the look of it you've got only nine players, and last time I checked there were eleven on a soccer team, which means Keswick Narrows is going to have a two-man advantage – excuse me, darlings — I mean a
two-person
advantage.”

“We'll concentrate on defence, and hope we can get a breakaway goal,” I said.

“And who's going to get your breakaway goals?”

I looked around our team. Our best strikers were Magic and Brandon, the only two who hadn't joined the Wanderers.

“I like playing fullback best, but I can score,” Toby offered.

“With only nine players, you can't just stay up front, and you won't be able to chase up and down the field for ninety minutes, will you?” said Ice.

Toby glanced down at his chunky frame and shook his head. “Guess not.”

“You'll do more good staying back. The defence will need your strength and experience.”

Toby looked up, brightening.

“So how do you think we should play?” Julie asked.

“I'd use the Thin Red Line tactic,” said Ice, sitting on a gravestone.

We clustered around him.

“Thin Red Line?” I queried.

“It's a military expression — comes from the Crimean War — meaning
brave defending against overwhelming odds
,” Ice explained. “This is how it works: after kickoff everyone lines up across the field — all except the goalie — on the edge of the penalty area. Try to avoid too much space between you so their players can't run through.”

“You mean stand in a line right across the field?” I said. “They'll laugh at us.”

“That's right. And with any luck they'll forget how to play soccer — for a while. They'll fuss around waiting for a turn to run at your single line of defence, and that's when your fastest player —”

“Julie,” I supplied.

“… That's when you, darling …” said Ice, looking at Julie.

“Don't call me darling,” said Julie, through clenched teeth.

“… That's when you, sweet pea,” Ice went on, unabashed, “… take off up the field. At the same time your best passer —”

“Shay,” said Brian.

“… lobs the ball over the opposition to Julie, who waltzes it around their goalie, who'll be the only one left to beat.”

“I'd be offside,” Julie pointed out.

“You can't be offside in your own half, so you just have to make sure you don't cross the halfway line before you get Shay's pass.”

“How do you know so much about soccer?” said Julie.

“From stuff I've heard,” said Ice, and went on quickly. “Have you thought about uniforms?” He looked at me. “You'd better make it white shirts — everyone's got a white shirt of some kind — and black shorts, or as near white and black as you can get.”

He added, “You know, this is crazy. You're playing under false pretences, and you're going to get caught. Even if by some miracle you didn't, the other teams play twice as many games as you, so you're bound to finish bottom of the league. Are you sure it's worth it?”

“I don't know,” I admitted. “What do you say?”

“I think it's a blast,” said Ice.

“So why are you telling me all this?”

“Just don't want you guys getting disappointed,” Ice mumbled.