The Comeback Challenge Page 4

  Mark sighed deeply. He wished he’d never brought up the subject of coaching, or soccer, or how things used to be. It just didn’t do any good.

  He turned toward the display of soccer shoes. None of them looked any good to him now. He wasn’t even sure he wanted a new pair.

  “May I help you?” A salesman stepped out from behind the counter.

  “I don’t think so,” said Mark.

  “We’re having a special sale on these top-of-the-line soccer shoes,” he said, pointing at a famous brand. “I might have something in your size.”

  Mark hesitated. “Well, maybe I could just try them on,” he said, nodding to the salesman.

  A few minutes later, Mark was carrying a bag with his new soccer shoes and looking for his mother. But the floor was too crowded now for him to see all the way over to the telephone booths.

  “Hey, Mark, what’s happening?” called a familiar voice.

  Mark turned around and saw Craig Crandall. Eddie Chu and Mel Duffy were standing with him over by the soccer ball display.

  “Nothing,” Mark replied automatically. Then he added, “What are you guys doing here? Buying a new soccer ball?”

  “No, Mel got one here last week and it had a leak. So we brought it back to exchange it for a good one,” said Eddie. “We’re just about ready to go and get some pizza for lunch. How about you?”

  “Oh, I just got here. My mom drove me over. She’s making a phone call,” Mark said.

  “Whadja buy?” asked Mel.

  As Mark was showing them his new soccer shoes, his mother returned. Mark introduced Craig, Eddie, and Mel. His mother smiled at each boy, but her eye lingered on Craig for a minute.

  “I know you! You used to play on my soccer team way back when!” she said. “Pepper!”

  Craig nodded and opened his mouth to reply. But Mark, afraid that Craig might bring up the past and set his mother off, as he himself had done earlier, cut him off.

  “These guys are going to have pizza, Mom, so I guess we’d better let them head out.”

  “Can’t Mark come with us, Mrs. Conway?” Craig asked.

  “Of course he can,” she said. “I’ll sign for those shoes. Then I have some shopping of my own to do, and we can meet up later on. Mark,” she called as he moved away with his friends, “before you go, may I have my credit card back?”

  She took the card and slipped a large bill into Mark’s hand. “That’s for the pizza. Treat your friends. I don’t want the change.”

  “Come on,” Eddie Chu called. “Some of the other guys are going to meet us there.”

  Mark watched his mother walk away, then stuffed the bill in his pocket and joined the others. With Mark toting his new shoes and Mel holding his replacement ball under his arm, they made tracks for the pizzeria. By the time they got there, Jim Shields and Charlie Burns were already seated at a big table in the corner.

  “ ’Bout time,” said Charlie. “We had trouble holding this table. Hey, Mark, you gonna eat with us? Do they eat pizza over in England?”

  “Uh-huh,” Mark said, “to both questions!”

  “We’d better get another chair over here, then,” said Jim.

  “Why? There are six of us, six chairs,” said Eddie.

  “Vince said he was coming, too,” answered Jim.

  Mark stiffened. He wasn’t sure how he felt about spending time with Vince off the soccer field.

  But before he had a chance to come up with a reason for leaving, Vince arrived. “Pizza’s on me, guys,” he said grandly as he slid into his seat. He slapped a bill on the table and grinned. “There’s enough for three six-slicers if we get just cheese only. Three slices apiece should be plenty, I’d say.”

  “But there are seven of us,” Craig said. He sat back and pointed at Mark, whom he had been blocking from Vince’s view.

  Vince’s eyes narrowed. “Well, that’s all the money I have, so someone’s going to have to survive with less.”

  Mark fumbled in his pocket for the money his mother had given him. It was more than Vince had laid on the table.

  “Well, why don’t we just pay for it with this instead and get whatever we want?” he said.

  “Cool!” said Craig, reaching for Mark’s money.

  Vince stared at Mark. “What makes his money better than mine?” he asked with a hard edge to his voice.

  The other boys exchanged glances. It seemed they were suddenly aware that something was wrong.

  Craig was the first one to break the stony silence. “Hey, I’ve got an idea. Vince, since you’re so keen on spending your money, why don’t you get us some sodas now and then some ice cream after the pizza? Speaking for myself, I’m more than happy to let both of you treat me to as much food as your money will buy!”

  The other boys all laughed, and eventually Mark, and then Vince, joined in. But even so, the pizza party wasn’t the fun time Mark had originally hoped it would be.

  6

  The next day at school, Craig cornered Mark at his locker.

  “Okay, what gives?”

  Craig didn’t have to elaborate. Mark knew that he was asking about what had happened between him and Vince at the pizza parlor.

  “I don’t know. Maybe you can tell me why our team captain is holding a grudge against me,” Mark replied.

  But Craig couldn’t shed any light on the subject. In fact, he tried to tell Mark that Vince’s behavior had been out of the ordinary. Even when Mark recounted some of Vince’s on-field slights, Craig shook his head in disbelief.

  “It would be dumb for Vince not to want to make his team’s forward line as strong and wily as possible,” he reasoned. “So you must be imagining it. But if you really believe it,” he added, “then you should just corner Vince and tell him how you feel about it!”

  Despite Craig’s assurances, Mark was unconvinced. To his mind, he and Vince were enemies and yesterday’s scene had just proven that Vince felt the same way. And he was sure that talking to Vince about it would do no good.

  In the meantime, he was determined to continue ignoring it on the soccer field. School was okay and he was glad he had made some good friends, but soccer was the most important thing to him right now. He wasn’t about to let anything interfere with his playing.

  His determination showed during practice. More and more he was becoming an important part of the team. It was obvious that he and Vince were the real standouts in the Scorpions’ lineup.

  Mark had learned that Vince was not only team captain but had been voted Most Valuable Player last year as well. And when Mark put his personal feelings aside, he had to admit that Vince deserved the title. He was a real scientist when it came to offensive maneuvers. Slick dribbling, head fakes, body swerves, and speed — he had them all and used them time and again to set up goal attempts.

  But Mark was his equal in all those things — and one more. Mark could keep his head in difficult situations. Vince would flare up and lose control when things weren’t going smoothly. But Mark stayed calm under pressure.

  Some of the guys had starting calling Mark “Mr. Inside” and Vince “Mr. Outside” because of their field positions at center and wing — apparently not realizing that the names had a second meaning as well.

  Practice that afternoon ended in a scrimmage, as always.

  “Nice work, you guys,” Coach Ryan called from the sideline. He blew the whistle to end the scrimmage. Twenty-two sweaty, tired players trotted off the field to join him at the bench.

  As they toweled off some of the sweat, the coach beckoned to Mark. “See anything out there that would fool the English?” he said half-jokingly. Over the past few weeks, Mark had given the coach a few suggestions for plays based on what he had learned in England. The coach had tried a few of them; others he had said were too complex for the Scorpions squad right now. Mark disagreed but knew better than to argue.

  Now he said, “Well, the team I was on in England played an incredible offensive game. We had a strong front line; we worked toge
ther like a well-oiled machine, you know?”

  The coach looked at him for a moment, then said, “I hope our front line will be as strong before the season’s out.” Mark blushed, not sure if the coach was suggesting that Mark could play better — or if he was referring to something else. Could it be he had noticed the lack of camaraderie between Vince and Mark and was asking Mark to bury the hatchet for the good of the team?

  The coach turned to the rest of the players and talked about the upcoming game against the Concord Tigers. The Tigers were new in the league, and not much was known about them.

  “Okay, we’ll stick with our three-three-four line-up, with the usual starters, until we see what we’re up against. Now, just do your laps and get out of here. I want you all rested up and in good shape for these Tigers. We’ll show ’em how we play ball in Knightstown, right?”

  “Go, Scorpions!”

  “Team! Team! Scorpions!”

  The shouts rang out as the players all rushed off the bench to bear down on the dirt track surrounding the soccer field.

  That evening, Mark could hardly sleep. He kept wondering about the coach’s comment.

  Maybe I have been just as much at fault as Vince, he thought. Maybe all it’ll take is for me to put out my hand for him to shake.

  He rolled over to a more comfortable position.

  Then again, he thought, knowing Vince, he’ll just look at it and laugh. Or worse, sneer and accuse me of kissing up to the captain. No, he decided finally, it’d be better to just leave the situation alone. I can deal with it. The Scorpions are doing okay with the way things are. Who am I to say that they could be better?

  7

  I’m giving you an extra-big apple to have with lunch,” Grandma Conway said to Mark at breakfast. “For good luck — and extra energy.”

  “An apple for good luck?” Grandpa Conway scratched his head. “That’s a new one on me.”

  “Oh, hush up, you,” she said. “You just make sure you get back here in time to pick me up for the game. We want to get good seats.”

  “I’ll eat the whole apple, Grandma,” Mark promised with a smile. “Don’t you worry. And I’m sure there’ll be plenty of good seats left. Probably too many.”

  As soon as the words left his mouth, he was sorry. He didn’t want his grandparents to think that he cared about whether his father — or his mother — showed up. In fact, the very thought of the two of them both showing up at the same game sent a chill down his spine. The crowd was never so big that they wouldn’t see each other. And then one of them would be sure to say something. And the other would answer back. The next thing you knew, they’d be fighting and he’d be caught in the middle. Again.

  “Rats. I’m on the bench this time.” Craig stared at the game roster Coach Ryan had posted in the locker room as he did for every game. “But it looks like the coach is sticking with you and Vince in the front line.”

  “Hey, the way Coach Ryan sends in subs, you’ll see some action, I’m sure,” said Mark.

  It was true. The coach tried to give as many of the players as possible some time on the field. But he was smart enough to stick with his winners, too.

  The Concord Tigers took to the field in their black-and-orange-striped jerseys and orange shorts. In terms of size, they didn’t look all that different from the Knightstown kids. Watching them from the corner of his eye during the warm-up periods, Mark could see that they were revved up for the game, too.

  When the two teams ran out into position for the kickoff, Vince jogged by Mark. Neither boy said a word, but Vince’s hazel eyes burned into Mark’s for a brief moment.

  Then the ref placed the ball in the center circle, stepped back, and blew the whistle.

  The Scorpions had won the toss and chosen to kick. Mark hooked his foot under the ball and sent it in a low, fast arc to Evan Andrews. Evan quickly kicked it to Johnny Mintz, who had sped by him near the outside line. Then Evan took off, running directly ahead of Johnny, and Johnny returned the ball to him. It was a classic “through pass” maneuver that had worked well in practice — and worked now, too. The Scorpions were deep into Tiger territory.

  Evan dribbled the ball for a moment, then passed it to Mark. Mark wasted no time moving it across the field to Vince. The Scorpion right wing had the ball for only a second before two Tiger midfielders charged him. He tried to get rid of it, but his kick was blocked.

  With possession of the ball, the Tigers wasted no time moving it in the opposite direction. They crossed the halfway line into Scorpion territory for the first time. With the advantage of a little speed and some smart passing, they faced a clear field on their way toward the goal area.

  But the Scorpions got a break. An overeager Tiger booted the ball toward a receiver too fast, and it went sailing out of bounds. Since it was on his side of the field, Vince went for the throw-in.

  Mark knew the ball would not come his way. It wasn’t just because. Vince so rarely included him in his plays: Coach Ryan designed such throw-ins to be received by his midfielders, so that his front line could get in position to move the ball up the field. So Mark got set to assist whichever teammate ended up with the ball.

  In this case, it turned out to be Mel Duffy, who caught it between his knees. The ball dropped to the ground, and Mel looked around to see who was in the clear. Mark waved and shouted, and Mel found him. A short pass in his direction gave the Scorpions’ center forward all he needed to break away down the field toward the defenders’ goal.

  Feeling the heat of a couple of oncoming Tiger tacklers, Mark spied Vince heading for the exact spot he needed to be in for a goal attempt. A quick stop and a well-placed kick in Vince’s direction, and the Scorpion wing had all he needed. Vince booted the ball toward the left corner of the net.

  It was good!

  The Scorpions had drawn “first blood” and were on the scoreboard, 1-0.

  The fans in the bleachers exploded with cheers. Mark could see his grandparents waving their arms in the air and yelling with the rest. But he didn’t see anyone else sitting with them.

  Despite the early goal, it was soon apparent that the Tigers were just warming up. In the next few minutes of play, they were all over the Scorpions. Vince called out to his team, “Come on, you guys, look around!” Mark, too, tried to jolt the other guys with shouts of encouragement whenever he saw something good happening.

  “Nice trap, Eddie!”

  “Way to go, Mel!”

  But there was no stopping the Tigers from getting on the scoreboard. Midway through the first half, they scored their first goal to tie the game at 1-1. Even worse, they were controlling the ball so well, it looked like they were going to go ahead any second. Charlie Burns had made three spectacular saves. Each looked tougher than the one before it.

  “Hang in there, Charlie!” Coach Ryan called from the sidelines. “Give him some help, you guys! Dig in!”

  And from the stands came the loud repeated sound of “De-fense! De-fense!”

  Mark stayed in his own zone, pitching in on defense whenever he could. But he kept himself ready to move the ball toward the Tigers’ goal if he got the chance.

  His opening came in the final seconds of the first half. The Scorpions had defended successfully against four goal attempts. By now, even the dogged Tigers were playing a little sloppy.

  First, Harvey Kahn got into a snarl with a Tiger forward and caused the ball to squirt within Mel Duffy’s reach. Mel trapped it with the inside of his left foot, then booted it with his right over to Jim Shields. Jim zigged it across the field to Mark, who was all by himself — not a Tiger in sight.

  The Scorpions’ center forward dribbled the ball straight down the field. But within seconds he began to hear the oncoming thud of defensemen bearing down on him. When they were practically on top of him, Mark pointed and waved to his left — but with his left foot, he booted the ball over to Vince on his right. Since all the attention was focused the other way for a split second, Vince had a clear shot at the
goal. He lined up and kicked the ball forward.

  Goal!

  The Scorpions had practiced that play only once during the previous week. Yet it worked like clock-work. Mark was proud that he had been able to carry it off. He looked over at Vince to give him a thumbs-up sign, but Vince had already headed back to the forward line.

  “Heckuva play, you guys!” Mark shouted out anyhow. Then he moved into position. At the whistle, he nudged the ball over to Johnny Mintz. The ball came right back at him, but there wasn’t enough time left in the half to do much more than let the clock run out.

  “Yes!” said Craig, leaping up from the bench as Mark came off the field.

  The Scorpions’ center forward chugged a large drink of water. Then he wiped off his forehead and flopped down in front of the coach — but not before glancing into the stands. There were his grandparents, smack behind the bench. Just behind them, he saw his father, all smiles, leaning over and pointing toward the Scorpions. Mark was about to shift his eyes back to the coach when he spotted someone else he knew.

  Off to one side of the stands, huddled up and drinking from a paper coffee cup, was his mother. She was smiling, too, and talking to a woman seated next to her. The woman had bright red hair, a lot like Craig’s. Mark guessed that it must be his mother.

  Mark’s heart sank. Just what I don’t need, he thought, Mom and Dad at the same game. At least they’re not seated together. Still, they’re within shouting distance. Oh, gosh, I hope that doesn’t start up! Everyone will know in a minute who they are and that I’m —

  “Mark, are you still with us?” the coach asked, interrupting his thoughts.

  Mark realized he hadn’t heard a word that Coach Ryan had been saying.

  “Uh, yes, sir,” he mumbled.

  The coach looked at him for a long moment, then addressed the team in general. “Okay, then, let’s keep our cool out there. Just do what you’ve learned in practice. I want to see some heads-up ball.”