The Field (23 page)

Our euphoria is short-lived, because instead of feeling defeated, Fort Ben is fueled by their desire to win. Taking control of the ball from the kickoff, they make two decisive passes downfield, moving towards me and evading my defenders. The Fort Ben striker gets control of the ball and takes a point blank shot from ten yards out. I'm off my feet before he takes the shot, but not quite fast enough. The ball screams past my fingertips before plowing into the net in the back of the goal. It was a good goal. Not much I could do about it. I was fully extended and anticipated the shot, but I can't save every one. Not against a team like Fort Ben. But it still sucks.

It's tied 1-1 at halftime. Everyone can taste victory, but we still have to make it happen. I'm totally jazzed because I feel like
I'm back in the zone, with The Field or whatever it is, but the game's not over yet. Anything can happen. The second half is a battle between equally matched teams—great for the fans to watch, but a bitch to play. By the 73
^rd
minute, the field players have all probably run six miles each, and I've hit the ground more times than I can remember. The pressure's on now. We've got to score in the next seven minutes, or it goes to overtime, then penalty kicks. No one wants a championship game decided with penalty kicks.

Paul, Raul and Dameon are taking shots, but nothing's going in. Dameon's shot goes over the goal. It looks like Paul's is going in—but it slams into the crossbar, ricochets off, and a Fort Ben player clears it. The ball comes to my end of the field, and I make an easy save and punt the ball to where Paul is positioned on the left side. He takes the ball and starts dribbling downfield toward the Fort Ben goal. He doesn't pass, which is dangerous, because it makes you a target for the other team to take the ball from you, but it's what every fan thinks of—the amazing runs of Messi or Maradona, evading player after player, and then scoring the winning goal. But that's exactly what Paul does. He puts everything he's got into this run, all the footwork, all the speed, and when he gets within striking distance, he sends a rocket into the upper 90.
Score!
2 to 1.

The clock keeps running and now there's only three minutes left in regular time. Fort Ben can see their championship title slipping away. It's now or never, so they come out with everyone focused on scoring. Even their keeper has moved out of the box. We've got everyone back on D. The seconds tick by, but Fort Ben can't get a shot off. I'm waiting and watching, because I know a shot is coming. I try to calm my mind and feel it, not think it, not force it. Then, with 30 seconds left, it happens. The
striker gets the ball and takes his shot. He shoots it from 25 yards out, right at the goal, the trajectory going over my head. It's one of those shots that could go over the goal, or just slip in right under the crossbar and are wickedly hard to save because you have to dive backwards. Again, it feels like slow motion. I wait, coiled, until it's just the right moment, and then—
Now!

I launch myself into the air, extending my arm towards the sky, reaching back and up to the crossbar, eight feet in the air. It's like I'm propelled by some invisible force that's merged with my body. I'm fully extended, arched over backwards with my hand reaching towards the sky. The ball descends and I get my palm to it at just the last instant, tipping it backward over the goal, where it rolls along the netting and falls into the grass. I land heavily, flat out on my back, slumped on the grass inside the goal. Before I can even catch my breath, the rest of the team is on top of me and I hear, muffled through the bodies, the buzzer sounding out the end of the match.
We won
.

The team is going crazy; parents and students are screaming in the stands. Paul is pounding me on the back. The other players lift me and Paul onto their shoulders and carry us over in front of the stands and then over to the benches where they put us down so they can dump the big cooler of water on Coach Swenson, and then they carry him across the field. I'm yelling as loud as anyone else. We won the State Championship. Unbelievable. Awesomely unbelievable.
We are State Champions!

The awards ceremony is just a blur. One by one they announce the names of all the Monroe players and everyone cheers. When they present the trophy to Coach Swenson, he holds it high over his head. By the end of the evening my face hurts from smiling.

Even though we're all spent, no one sleeps on the bus ride home. Everyone's hyped up from the win, especially Will.

“I got a text that there's a party at tonight at Trip Vickery's house,” he says to me and Paul and Tyler. “Everyone's gonna be there celebrating the win. We've gotta go.”

I can't say that I mind the idea of basking in the glory of winning. “Sounds cool. I'll text Renee to see if she wants to meet me there.”

We rehash the game on the ride home, going over every play and call. For most of us it's just the end of the season, and it couldn't have ended in a better way, but for the seniors it's the end of their high school careers. Most of them probably aren't thinking about that now, except for maybe Brett. He's celebrating along with everyone else, but it has to be somewhat of a downer for him to end high school without having played much in the tournament. Even though breaking my fingers sucked, I'm kind of glad it gave him a chance to play in Semi-state. As long as I got to play in the Final.

T
HE
V
ICKERY'S LIVE
outside of town on about 35 acres. At one time it was probably all farmland and pastures, but now they just use it for fun. There's a race track for go-carts, a nine hole golf course with a stream running through it, and a small lake. By the time I get there, dozens of cars line the long drive back to the barn. I should be feeling totally stoked about tonight's win, and I do, but there's also something else bugging me at the back of my mind that's making me on edge, apprehensive.

I park at the end of the line, a few cars back from Will's Taurus. When we got off the bus at school, he didn't ask me if I wanted to go with him. No surprise there.

The barn is a great place for a party since they only use it for storage and there isn't much that can get broken. And it's huge. The double doors are open wide, and I can see the cavernous space filled with what looks like half the school milling around under the rafters two stories above. Haylofts no longer full of hay are located high at either end, but the rest is a wide-open space. I think they might even use it as a basketball court in the winter time. Outside in the yard a bonfire is blazing and groups of people are standing around and sitting on hay bales close to
its warmth. As I approach the clumps of students, some of them recognize me and break away.

“Eric!” A guy that I know from Calc class gives me a high five. “You're the man! Awesome save there at the end. Congrats on the championship!”

“Thanks, man,” I say and slap his hand. Then I see Bonnie and Cole by the bonfire and head their way. They're deep in conversation when I walk up to them. “Have you guys seen Renee? She's not answering my texts.”

“She got here a while ago with her artsy friends. I think they went into the barn.” Cole makes quotes in the air with his fingers when he says ‘artsy.' “But I haven't seen her recently. Fantastic game tonight, dude. You and Paul really made it happen.”

“Yeah, thanks. It's a team effort, totally,” I say reflexively and then I look at Bonnie and add, “Will played great defense, too.” She has an expression on her face that I can't decipher. I'm not sure if she's mad or sad, or both.

“I haven't exactly seen a lot of Will lately,” she says. She brings her hands to her mouth and blows on them, shuttering the expression in her eyes with her lashes and closing down her face.

“Join the club,” I reply. There's a long silence while the three of us, who used to be the four of us, contemplate the change in Will.

I'm impatient to find Renee, so I tell them that I'm going to look for her in the barn. As I wander through the crowd talking to people and being congratulated, I have a growing sense of unease.
Where's Renee? Why hasn't she texted me?
I start to shrug it off, but then I think—
Trust your gut. Something's wrong
. The skin on my arms and the back of my neck is crawling and I feel an urgent need to find her. I push past a group of girls and see Anna
and Emily standing by the food table. I rush up to Emily and grab her by the arms.

“Hey!” she cries out. “What's your problem?”

“Where's Renee?” I'm breathing heavily. I probably seem like a stalker, but I don't care.

“She and Miles went inside to find a bathroom,” Anna says with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“Where inside?”

“Up to the house. On the other side of the hill.” She gives me a quizzical look, sensing my anxiety. “But they'll be back any minute if you want to hang out here and wait for them.”

“Ah, no, thanks.” I turn and move towards the barn doors.
Miles. She's with Miles
.

I can't easily get past the people in the barn, but when I get to the open doors I sprint across the yard towards the low hill on the other side, shadowy in the flickering light from the bonfire. All I can think is that Renee's in some kind of danger and that I need to get to her. Now.

At the top of the hill, I pause and see the house over to the left down a gradual slope. I run down the hill, stumble and catch myself, and then tear across the gravel driveway, pebbles flying from beneath my feet. I pound up the stairs to the porch and the front door, yank on the knob to open it, but it doesn't budge.
Locked. Shit
. I look around for another door, but don't see one, so I leave the porch and jog around the side of the house. There's a small side door next to the garage that opens when I try it. I enter a dimly lit back hallway and there's a hand-printed sign on the far wall that says B
ATHROOM
with an arrow to the right. I rush down the hall, turn and come to another sign on a closed door—B
ATHROOM.

It's locked. I shake the handle and pound on the door. “Renee! Are you in there?”

“What the hell?” A guy's voice says from inside. “Hang on a minute.” It doesn't sound like Miles. I hear the toilet flush and then the door opens and a guy I know from the football team comes out.

“Can't a guy take a piss in peace?” he says angrily, and then he recognizes me. “Hey, great win tonight,” he says and holds out his hand to shake mine. “It's all yours, dude, but there's no Renee in there.”

“Have you seen a guy and a girl come in here? Is this the only bathroom?” I shake his hand and run my other hand over my face in frustration.

“I've seen a lot of guys and girls and I'm sure this isn't the only bathroom,” he says, laughing. “Chill out, dude. Go find another chick.”

Of course this isn't the only bathroom
. I turn away from him and move down the hallway toward the house.
Upstairs
. The sound of the television comes from the family room beyond the kitchen. I walk silently through the dimly lighted kitchen to the doorway at the side of the room and I find it leads into a dining room and then the entry with a staircase leading up. I take the stairs two at a time. At the landing I stop and listen.

At first I only hear my heart pounding and the blood rushing through my ears. Then I hear her.

“No! Miles, stop!” Not loud, but definitely clear to my ears.
Down the hall to the right
. I see the light under the door.

“Renee!” I grab the knob, and it's locked too. “What're you doing to her? Open the door you bastard!” I pound the door with both fists.

“Get the hell out of here Horton. This is none of your business,” the little shit yells at me.

“Eric, help me!” Renee calls out, sounding really scared. It's all the invitation I need.

I move to the other side of the hallway and then slam my body into the door. The jamb makes a loud cracking noise, but holds. I try another tack and brace my back against the wall and then kick the door with my punting leg as hard as I can right next to the doorknob. The wood of the door jamb splinters and splits and the door flies open slamming against the wall. Miles has Renee shoved up onto the sink and is standing between her legs with his pants undone and his hands up her shirt. She's trying to shove him away and is pulling at his hair, but it's not having any effect. When he sees all six foot two inches of me in the doorway practically breathing fire, his eyes go wide and he frantically tries to do up his pants. But it's the relief in Renee's eyes that I'm focused on.

“You sonofabitch,” I say in a low voice as I advance on him. He backs away, but I grab the front of his shirt with both hands and shove him back against the wall, lifting him off the ground to look him in the eye. “She said ‘no' and no means no.” I slam him harder against the wall and the back of his head connects with a thud.

“I thought she wanted it too,” he's pathetic.

“I should beat you to a pulp. What don't you understand about ‘no' and ‘stop'?”

Renee grabs my arm and I look down at her, the cloud of anger leaving my eyes. “Eric, don't hit him. That'll just make it worse. It'll be worse for you. He's not worth it,” she pleads with me.
Anything for you
.

“Okay, for you I won't beat the crap out of him, even though he deserves it.” My anger dissipates as I let him slide down the wall and crumple to the floor. “If I ever hear that you've harassed another girl, I will come looking for you. Depend on it,” I say and punch him in the gut. He doubles over but has enough sense to grab his pants and get out of there as fast as he can.

I turn to Renee and cup her face between my hands. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you? I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner.” I pull her to me and wrap my arms around her. She buries her face in my shoulder and starts to cry.