Top Wing (4 page)

Jazz made a flying leap in the direction of the oncoming ball. At the last second, he tipped it with an open palm.

The impact was enough to knock the ball forward. It bounced just far enough for Steve to snag it. He dribbled off to one side
as a cheer was heard from the stands.

“A locomotive for Jazz!” cried one of the cheer-leaders.

Give me some steam!

Give me some heat!

We’re the team that can’t be beat!

Rah! Rah! Rah!

Jazz! Jazz! Jazz!

Go, Anchors, go!

Before Steve could make any headway toward the goal, a whistle shrieked.

It signaled the end of the game.

The Anchors had lost, 2 – 1.

Benton was only a few feet away from Dana when the whistle blew. But instead of running off the field alongside Dana as he
usually did, he called out to Abe and Lance to wait for him.

Dana stopped in his tracks. Then he decided to put his cards right out on the table. He turned back to Benton and called over
to him.

“Hey, Bent,” he said, “what’s going on? Is something eating you? You’re acting as though I don’t exist or something. You haven’t
said a single word to me since I showed up today. And you had lots of chances to pass to me, but it was like I was invisible.
What’s the matter?”

Benton glanced at him quickly. Then he looked away and muttered, “Nothing.”

“Nothing? What do you mean?”

“Look, quit bugging me, okay?”

“No, it’s not okay,” Dana said. “It’s messing everything up. We’re supposed to be friends as well as teammates. You act like
I’m from outer space, like I did something.”

“Get off my back,” snarled Benton.

Dana was too shocked at Benton’s angry tone to
reply. As he stood there with his mouth agape, Ben-ton rushed by him toward the bench. He grabbed a paper cup full of water
and gulped it down.

Dana recovered his senses and ran over to him. Benton moved away, but Dana grabbed his sleeve.

“What is this ‘Get off my back’ baloney?” he demanded. “I thought we were friends. Is that how you think friends should act?”

“No! I think friends are supposed to … to watch out for each other,” snapped Benton.

“Right! So do I,” said Dana. “So when haven’t I watched out for you?” He waited for Benton to tell him about some playing
mistake he’d made.

“You never told your folks about the wedding!” Benton shouted at him.

“But —,” Dana began.

“They should’ve looked in on us. If they had checked earlier, the fire wouldn’t have gotten out of control and our house wouldn’t
have burned down. So there!”

He threw down the empty paper cup and ran off to join Abe and Lance.

Dana stood there. He was rooted to the ground, his mouth open in amazement.

D
ana felt as if he’d been hit in the gut with a ball coming at him at a hundred miles an hour.

Benton couldn’t have said what he’d just said!

Benton had never asked him to tell … that is, Mr. and Mrs. Crawford never said … or Benton never said they’d said —

Wait a minute, he thought. Mom was surprised when I mentioned the wedding the night of the fire. The Crawfords must have forgotten
to tell them — and Benton didn’t know that. He had it all wrong.

“I’ll straighten him out,” Dana said out loud.

There was no one around to hear him. Both teams had cleared off the field. There was no one to talk with as he waited in the
parking area for his mom to get back. So he had plenty of time to think about what Benton had said.

When Mrs. Bellamy finally arrived, he could hardly wait to get into the car. He wanted to ask her if the Crawfords had mentioned
that they were going out the night the fire happened.

But Dana’s mom was so excited, he didn’t even tell her about the game. She drove down Main Street as fast as the traffic —
and the speed limit — would allow as she bubbled over with news.

“You’ll never guess what happened,” she began.

“Let me! Let me tell!” said Christy. “We didn’t see Dad!”

“That’s
good
news?” Dana asked.

“It
is!
” said Mrs. Bellamy. “We weren’t allowed to see him because he was being examined by the doctors. They decided his condition
has improved so much that he’s ready for the next step.”

“Great!” said Dana. He smiled for the first time in what seemed like hours. “What’s the next step?”

“Christy, button your lip,” cautioned Mrs. Bellamy. “You’ll see when we get there.”

Inside the hospital, they took the elevator. Dana automatically reached for the top floor button. That was where the intensive
care section was located.

“Press five,” said Mrs. Bellamy. But Christy had
already wedged her hand under Dana’s. Her pink forefinger pushed the white plastic button. The elevator doors closed and up
they went.

They got off on the fifth floor. There Dana discovered that his father had been moved into a private room.

As soon as he got inside, he saw that the tube that went up Mr. Bellamy’s nose and down his throat was gone. But the clear
plastic bag of colorless liquid was still connected to his arm by an intravenous tube that disappeared under a bandage on
his wrist.

Mr. Bellamy was sitting up in bed, all smiles.

After his dad had greeted each of them, Dana asked, “When are they going to take that thing away?” He pointed at the IV tube.

“Pretty soon,” said his father. “But it doesn’t feel so bad. Hardly even notice it.” His voice was a little hoarse.

“I bet you don’t miss the nose tube,” said Christy.

“I used to think of it as the
throat
tube,” said Mr. Bellamy. “I could hardly talk with that thing rubbing away.”

That’s probably why his voice still sounds kind of raw, thought Dana.

“But I sure heard everything going on,” Mr. Bellamy said. He looked over at Dana. “Well, what’s the news from the soccer field?
Who won the game?”

“Cottoneers,” said Dana.

“Score?”

“Two to one.”

“It could have been worse,” said his father. “How’d you do?”

“I scored the only goal,” Dana said.

“Hooray for Dana!” shouted Christy.

“Quiet, dear,” said Mrs. Bellamy. “We’re in a hospital. Oh, Dana, I’m so glad to hear you made a goal.”

“Nice going, son,” said Mr. Bellamy. His voice was full of pride. “Did the other team play a lot better? Who had control of
the ball most of the time?”

Before Dana could answer, there was a light tapping on the door.

Dr. Higgins, his father’s doctor, strode into the room. He was followed by Mrs. Phillips, the head nurse of the fifth floor.

“No need to leave, folks,” said Dr. Higgins. He walked over to the bedside. Beneath his curly gray hair and wire-rimmed glasses,
he had a friendly smile.

Mrs. Phillips popped a thermometer into Mr. Bellamy’s mouth. She picked up his unbandaged hand and checked his pulse. Dr.
Higgins, meanwhile, scribbled some notes in a file with Mr. Bellamy’s name on it.

The doctor’s attention suddenly focused on Dana’s uniform.

“ ‘Anchors,’ ” he read. “So, you play soccer?”

Dana grinned and nodded.

“Good for you,” said Dr. Higgins. “Excellent exercise for the heart and lungs. Make sure you eat properly. Get enough rest
and, well, I don’t have to tell an athlete like you, no smoking. Right?”

“Right!” Dana agreed quickly.

“Pulse and temperature normal,” Mrs. Phillips announced.

“Quite an improvement,” said the doctor. “You should be ready to go home in a few days, Hayden. But you still need a lot of
rest. This is the best place for you right now.”

“If you say so, I’ll take your word for it,” said Mr. Bellamy. “But when can I start eating real food? Feels like I’ve lost
fifty pounds.”

“Oh, I guess they forgot to put the mashed potatoes
in that IV,” the doctor said, joking. “Seriously, don’t be in such a hurry. You’ll be back on solid food soon enough. Remember,
you had a real close call. If you weren’t in such good shape, you might not have made it.” He turned to Dana and his family.
“But even as strong as he is, I’ll bet he could use some sleep. Any excitement could cause a relapse.”

You might not have made it. A relapse
. The words burned themselves in Dana’s head. And if I’m upset thinking about the fire, he thought, imagine how Dad must feel.
While the doctor had been doing his examination, Dana had wondered about even mentioning the fire to Mr. Bellamy. Now he knew
he had to keep his mouth shut about the night of the fire — and what had happened earlier that day.

The doctor talked with Mrs. Bellamy for a few minutes just outside the door.

She came back into the room and announced, “Dr. Higgins said that you deserve a gold star.”

A star. That reminded Dana of the ball hitting him on the head during the game. He smiled and rubbed his head.

“Speaking of stars,” Dana said. “I almost saw a few in the game today.”

He told them about the ball hitting his head, making it sound funnier than it was. At least Christy laughed a lot.

Mrs. Bellamy warned him to be careful.

“Right,” said Mr. Bellamy. “Stay as far away from the ball as possible.”

“What?” cried Dana. He knew his father was kidding. “How am I going to be the top scorer that way?”

“Guess you’d better use your head, after all,” Mr. Bellamy admitted, yawning.

He was getting tired. It was time to leave.

Christy piped up, “I’m hungry.”

Good old Christy, thought Dana.

“I’ve been thinking about food, too,” said Mrs. Bellamy. “Ever since Dr. Higgins mentioned mashed potatoes. Oh, Hayden, maybe
I shouldn’t have said that!”

“No, that’s okay,” he said. “You can’t be worrying about everything you say. Besides, I can always dream about real food.”

“Good, get some rest,” said Mrs. Bellamy. “Come on, kids, give him a kiss, and let’s go.”

“See you tomorrow, Dad,” said Dana, kissing his father on the cheek.

He had to hold back the tears that started to well up. His dad’s close call still shook him up. So what if he was stuck in
the hospital for a few more days? Pretty soon he’d be back home. Everything would be okay again.

Or would it? How would his folks feel when they found out what Benton had said? He had to tell them sometime. They had to
clear things up.

As they drove away from the hospital, Christy chattered away. She was obviously glad to see her dad getting better.

So was Dana, but his mind was elsewhere. He tried to remember exactly what Benton had said that day.

I’m sure Benton never told me to say anything about the wedding his folks were going to, he thought over and over again.

Or did he?

M
rs. Bellamy looked across the table.

“Dana, did you lick your plate while I wasn’t looking?” she asked.

“No, Mom, I got it all on my spoon,” he replied. “Every last bite.”

“Hmmmm, something must be on your mind,” she said. “You always eat like an elephant when something’s bothering you.”

“No,” he said. “I’m okay.” Why upset her until he figured things out?

“Then you must be stashing it away for your father,” she said, smiling. “You went through your dinner like … like a vacuum
cleaner. Are you sure you don’t have some strawberry shortcake up your sleeve?”

“Yuck!” said Christy. “That’s messy. I’d only hide cookies up my sleeves.”

Dana and Mrs. Bellamy laughed.

“No cookies for you — in fact nothing else for anyone tonight,” Mrs. Bellamy said. “We don’t want to become a bunch of fatties
— especially with your father looking so thin.”

Later that evening, Dana settled down in the big overstuffed chair in the living room to try to piece together the conversation
he had had with Benton the day of the fire. He thought about those TV detective shows. When Perry Mason asked the questions,
he expected a witness to remember every single word that was said, even if it happened years ago.

It wasn’t that far back when the fire happened.

He remembered that he’d been walking home after practice when Benton told him about the wedding.

Did I ask if my folks should know about it? he thought. No, I’m sure I didn’t. But I’m pretty sure he didn’t ask me to tell
my folks about it, either. But he thinks he did. Maybe I just don’t remember it right.

Then a new thought struck him. He got up and walked around to think it through. Then he sat back down. Then he got up and
walked around some more.

Could Benton know he didn’t ask me to tell my folks — and be trying to cover up something? If so, then it’s my word against
his. Unless —

“Dana, what’s wrong with you?” Christy’s question interrupted his pondering. “You keep walking in front of the TV. Can’t you
see we’re watching something?”

He hadn’t even noticed his mother and sister come in and turn on the TV.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. He stepped out of the way, trying to remember what he’d been thinking about. But Christy was yelling
at the TV, and he couldn’t concentrate.

“Our next contestant will give the wheel a spin,” boomed a voice from the television set.

“Oooh, try a
B
, Steve, try a
B!
” Christy shouted.

Dana suddenly looked up. “That’s it!” he cried.

“Calm down, Christy,” said Mrs. Bellamy. “And you, too, Dana. The two of you are all wired up tonight. What’s going on?”

“I’m just glad Dad’s better,” said Christy. “And he’s going to come home soon. Yippee!”

“What about you, Dana? You’re acting like a caged tiger.”

“I’ve got to call Steve,” Dana said, hurrying off to the kitchen.

His mother followed him.

“Dana, don’t you think it’s a little late in the evening to call Steve? What is it that can’t wait until morning?”

Dana hesitated. He knew his mother shared Christy’s happiness about their dad’s improvement. How could he spoil her day by
telling her about his problems with Benton? Besides, what could she do about it? He had to square things with Benton himself.