The League (14 page)

The fourth game between the Morons and the Idiots was a lot like the first. Knowing Spencer was waiting to lay me out, I did everything I could to avoid touching the football. I hid behind other receivers on pass plays and got out of the way whenever José handed the ball off to Aaron.

But the more I stayed out of trouble, the more scared I got about that first hit.

“I’m getting sick and tired of waiting,” Spencer said to me as we passed each other before a kickoff. “If you don’t get in the game for real, I’m going to bring the game to you. Got it?”

Part of me wanted to get in the game. Everyone
else had caught, run, or thrown the ball, and they all seemed like they were having a lot more fun than I was. This was Dad’s fault, I told myself. If he had let me play flag football, I wouldn’t be risking my life in the League of Pain.

Late in the second half, the Idiots were losing to the Morons by a touchdown. We were starting our last drive near midfield, which meant we didn’t have far to go to score.

José yelled at us in the huddle. “We have to score on this drive. We
will
score on this drive!”

“They’re doubling me on every play,” said Aaron. “It’s impossible to get open.”

“Then beat the coverage,” José shot back, “because I want to win. The losing is getting old, you got me?”

Planet nodded. “We got it, José.”

“We’ll score,” Aaron promised.

“Let’s go do it,” José said. “Thirty-two eagle on two.” He clapped loudly as we broke the huddle and stood behind Planet to call for the ball.

“Hut-hut!”

When Planet snapped the ball to José, Aaron and Ox began their routes. I moved toward the sideline but didn’t go too far from José.

Spencer was almost through his ten-Mississippi count and Aaron was covered. Julian had dropped
back into double coverage with Shane. In a moment of fear, I realized that meant I was wide open. “Nine Mississippi … ten Mississippi!” Spencer yelled. He charged forward, looking for a sack, but José dodged the tackle. Spencer was on his heels when José spotted me waiting in the flat.

I blinked. When I opened my eyes, José’s throwing arm was fully extended and his hand was empty. A split second later, my eyes picked up the football spinning toward me on a tight spiral.

Images of catching the ball and running untouched into the end zone flashed through my mind as I lifted my hands. But then the image in my brain changed. Suddenly it wasn’t me celebrating the game-winning score, it was Spencer standing over my scattered body parts. The fear was too strong. I pulled my hands down and let the football sail over my head.

Back near the line of scrimmage, José threw up his arms in disgust. I could see the other Idiots shaking their heads as they walked back to the huddle. “Terrible,” I heard Planet mutter to Ox. “Even the kid with the busted ankle would be better than this guy.”

I wasn’t even sure I should join them. I wanted to be a football player so badly. But I was no Brian Braun. I was Quiet Wyatt, too afraid of getting tackled to even catch a ball.

That was when Aaron hit me.

He blindsided me, drilling me square in the ribs with his head and shoulders. The impact was so hard I could feel the air from my lungs slam into the back of my teeth as it rushed out of my chest. For a moment, I was hanging in midair as my feet left the ground and dangled over my head. One of my shoes left a grass stain on my nose as Aaron and I returned to earth simultaneously. I felt every rock and clump of dirt dig into my back while the weight of Aaron’s body crushed me from the top.

Then it was over.

Aaron jumped up like nothing had happened.

I rolled over slowly. “What’s the matter with you?” I yelled. “I’m on your team!”

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

I took a minute to check myself out. My lungs had filled with air again. I moved my extremities and limbs. Everything worked. “No,” I said.

“Good. Then get up and get ready for the next play. It’s only second down.”

“Why’d you do that?” I asked, dusting off my shorts.

“You’re not really in the game until you get hit,” Aaron explained. “You got hit. Now you’re in the game. Get it?”

“I think so,” I said, starting to follow Aaron back to the huddle.

But Spencer stuck his palm on Aaron’s chest.

“What’s your problem?” Aaron asked, knocking Spencer’s hand to the side.

“I wanted the first hit, Parker. He got me in trouble, not you.”

“You’re not gonna hit anyone,” Aaron replied. “Wyatt didn’t do anything to—”

Maybe it was the hit Aaron had laid on me, or maybe it was hearing him stand up for me. But something inside me wanted to end it with Spencer once and for all.

“You want to hit me?” I said, forcing my way in between Spencer and Aaron. “Here I am, Spencer. Hit me. Get your revenge.”

There was no fear in me. I was one hundred percent ready for Spencer to slug me with every ounce of strength in his body. I knew I could handle it.

Spencer looked me up and down with the same old mad-dog scowl, but no hit came. He waved his hand like he was swatting away a bug. “Forget it,” he said after a minute. “Let’s just play football.”

“Hey, Spencer,” I said as he walked away.

Spencer looked over his shoulder. “What?”

“You owe me a dollar and twenty-five cents.”

“I owe you what?”

“The day you left school for a corn dog, you took my money. I want it back, you flabby Moron.”

Spencer was facing the other direction, so I couldn’t see the expression on his face, but his shoulders were
twitching like the Hulk about to bust out of his shirt. Only instead of rage, Spencer smirked and said, “I’ll pay you later, you skinny Idiot.”

For the first time in my life, I wasn’t afraid of Spencer Randle. In fact, I wondered if I had gone too far by calling him a flabby Moron. Was it right for me to talk like that to Spencer just because he had talked that way to me? But I knew the difference right away. I would never, ever say what I just said to someone who couldn’t fight back. That was what separated me from Spencer.

The Idiots won the game that day when Aaron intercepted a pass and ran it back for a touchdown. Even better, I finally left the field understanding why it was called the League of Pain. My side ached where Aaron had hit me and there was a gash on my knee from where I’d landed. It felt great.

I was walking past a pile of shirts and shoes when a football landed in the brush not far from me.

Someone behind me whistled. “Parker, little help?”

I turned around to see José pointing at the football. Not thinking much about it, I picked up the ball and tossed it back.

José caught the ball and tucked it under one arm. “Thanks!” he shouted.

Aaron appeared at my side. “Did you just throw that ball to José?” he asked.

“Yeah. Why?”

“Because that was like thirty yards and you were practically flat-footed.”

“Is thirty yards good?”

“I guess your practice in the backyard is actually paying off.”

“Maybe I should play quarterback,” I said as a joke.

“Don’t make me laugh,” Aaron said.

We walked down the narrow path, passing through the deep shade of the forest. Somewhere nearby a woodpecker hammered into the bark of a pine tree, probably looking for lunch.

“I’m hungry,” I said as we hopped over a log that had fallen across the trail. “Living a lie is tough.”

“Tell me about it. But that’s the price you pay for freedom. I mean, if you did what Mom and Dad wanted, you’d be up at the golf course right now listening to some doofus tell you how to hold a club.”

“Yeah, but at least I’d get lunch.”

“You want lunch?” Aaron asked me as we came out of the woods. “I’ll get you lunch.”

Aaron led me down the side streets and through a few alleys until we arrived at the back door of Corner Pizza. He knocked twice. A minute later, the door opened and his friend Will, wearing an apron covered with sauce stains, let us in. Will had a shaggy
beard and thick earrings that had carved large holes in his earlobes.

Aaron and I followed Will into the empty restaurant. “We don’t open until three, so you guys have the place to yourselves for a couple of hours.” He handed Aaron a bucket of tokens. “Here, go crazy. I’ll bring a pizza out in a minute.”

“Thanks, man,” Aaron said.

“How come he’s doing this?” I asked. “Did you save his life or something?”

Aaron shook his head. “He’s just doing it because he can. I mean, why not, right?”

“Yeah, but he could get in trouble.”

“So could you, but you’re here.”

I couldn’t deny that. I was eating pizza without paying for it after a football game my parents didn’t know about when I should have been at the golf club with Francis. But I was only doing what I had seen Brian Braun and Aaron do, and nothing really bad ever seemed to happen to them. It made me wonder why they should get to have all the fun while everyone else had to follow the rules. It didn’t seem fair. Besides, Will was
giving
us the pizza and the tokens. It’s not like we were stealing them.

Plus, it was already working. Aaron was even treating me like a real person. If I had to break a few rules to make that happen, it was worth it to me.

It wasn’t long before Will reappeared with a large
cheese pizza and two sodas. The three of us tore into our slices like piranhas.

“So you’re still doing the football thing?” Will asked Aaron, brushing cheese from his chin.

“Me and him both are,” Aaron replied.

“Really?” Will said with a look of surprise. “I mean, no offense, little man, but I can’t picture you playing football.”

“He plays bigger than he looks,” Aaron said, before adding, “when he’s not falling down on purpose in the middle of a play.”

“Hey,” I said. “I only did that once.”

Aaron laughed. “Relax, Wyatt. I’m just giving you a hard time. If you’re going to hang in the League of Pain you better get used to it.”

“Yeah, man,” Will said, nodding. “It’s like, a sign of respect, right?”

“You could say that,” Aaron said, reaching for another slice.

I savored every bite of that pizza. I was living the good life now. I was doing what I wanted to do and nobody could stop me. I was even eating lunch for free, with Aaron, who usually treated me like something caught in his teeth.

That afternoon, after I changed back into my golf clothes in the bathroom at the pizza place, I timed it so I got home five minutes after Dad and Kate—exactly how much longer it would take to
bike from the golf course than drive. I’d thought of everything.

“Wyatt,” said Dad, flipping through the mail. “How was golf camp today?”

“Great,” I said, hopping off my bike. “I got a ball to the green with a six-iron.”

Dad tossed a stack of envelopes and coupons into the recycle bin. “How are those shoes working out?”

“Not too bad.”

Dad fixed his eyes on me. “I was looking for you when I picked up Kate. I saw Francis at the driving range but I didn’t see you.”

We were standing on the front stoop now.

“Who was he with?” I asked, hoping I sounded nice and casual.

“Young guy with blond hair and a red golf shirt. I figured he was your coach.”

Shaking my head, I said, “Ah, nope. Our coach has dark hair and glasses. I don’t know who that was.”

“Where were you?” Dad asked, unlocking the door. He didn’t sound suspicious, but I didn’t know how long I could keep thinking on my feet.

“Bathroom,” I said quickly. “Too much lemonade at lunch.”

Laughing, Dad said, “If I keep missing you at the course, I’m going to start thinking you’re off doing something else.”

“See you later, Dad,” I said on Friday morning, doing a quick lap around the driveway to get my bike in gear.

“Actually, I’ll be out late tonight, pal,” Dad said, sitting behind the wheel of his car. He started to roll up his window, then stopped. “Hey, why don’t we play nine with Jim and Francis tomorrow?”

“Um, okay,” I said, failing to come up with an excuse fast enough. “Sounds fun.”

“Great,” Dad said, giving me a thumbs-up. “I can’t wait to see how you’ve improved.”

“See you at golf camp!” Kate shouted from the backseat.