Chapter 15
Cory scootched around and made a soft dirt seat, leaning back against what was left of the old adobe wall. Last night had been miserable, but the early afternoon sun warmed him, helping him forget the biting cold. The remains of his dinner was gone, eaten late in the night. Most of the morning, Cory had slept on the cold ground, but now he was enjoying the desert life around the Fort.
The Fort, on a hill that looked down on farmland, was some low adobe walls made of mud and grass with large, gnarled cottonwood trees scattered around the outside. One juniper tree grew right in the middle of the dirt foundation. Gene had told him it was the remains of an old school house from the late 1800s. He ran his hand across the bumpy, crumbling wall he was using for a backrest. It was warm and welcoming. Judging by his watch, school was letting out. He wondered what everyone was doing. It gave him a weird feeling to be away from his usual routine, knowing that everyone else was still doing theirs. He felt a little guilty.
An image of his mother flashed across his mind. Cory knew that she would be worried and, again, felt a pang of guilt at being the cause. He quickly shoved the image away. Instead, he thought back to all the time he and Gene had spent up here last summer. They had cleaned out the tumbleweeds from inside the building's walls. Once, Cory found a quartz arrowhead sticking out of the dirt. It was like discovering gold. He dug into the outer pocket of his pack and pulled out the arrowhead. This went everywhere with him. As he'd done so many times, he rubbed it between his fingers, feeling the ridges and bumps and wondering how it was made. Absentmindedly, Cory tested the still sharp point against his forefinger, thinking about Gene and yesterday's fight.
He had been so angry at Gene. Now, he wondered why. All Gene had done was tell him the truth, which he found out for himself while riding home! The memory of seeing Tony Banks and Allen together caused the pain to bubble up. Cory tried to imagine his mom without Allen. Just Cory and his mom, being a family. A vision of his mom in the bleachers, cheering for him, then the two of them walking to the car after the game. Just the two of them on their way home. He liked this mental picture and let his mind wander.
"What's up, man?"
Cory jumped, startled at hearing the voice. Gene stared down at him from the other side of the wall.
"Gene!" Cory half shouted, scrambling up and turning around to look at him.
"Yo."
"What're you doing here?" The adobe wall between them.
"Well," Gene said. "Looking for you. I thought you might be here."
Cory brushed off a pant leg, glad it was Gene who found him. He hopped onto the wall, one knee up, his hands clasping it. He looked down at alfalfa fields spreading in the lowlands below the Fort. Their brilliant green contrasted starkly with the brown desert surrounding them. It was beautiful. Both boys were silent, the spell of the Fort and the autumn sun warming them. Cory glanced at Gene. Gene was draped over the wall a few feet away, elbows resting on top. He was also staring out at the fields. Cory followed his gaze to a tractor bumping and chugging down a furrow half a mile away. The boys were upwind, so the tractor seemed to move silently through the deep green of the alfalfa.
"Great place," murmured Cory, letting the laziness settle on him again.
"Man, I forgot how cool this place is," Gene said. "We've had some good times here."
"The best!" Cory answered, remembering last summer. He looked again at Gene. "Dude, I'm sorry about yesterday." Cory's throat went tight. "I didn't mean what I said."
"That's okay," Gene gestured with his hand to show he held no grudge. "I think I was jealous of you spending time with Mr. Banks." His voice trailed off.
They fell silent again. Each understood more than what was said between them. A grasshopper crashed into Cory's arm and fell to the ground. It immediately righted itself, squatting, ready to launch. Cory laughed, looking down at it.
"Those dumb grasshoppers never watch where they're going. You see that?" Gene nodded and smiled. He was also staring at the frozen insect.
"I stopped by your house before coming here." Cory shot a quick look at Gene. "Your mom's worried."
"Yeah," Cory said quietly. "I'm sure."
"I think she feels bad about Mr. Banks and all. She'd been crying."
At hearing this, the hardness in Cory melted. "Damn. You know, she doesn't cry much." Cory flicked a pebble off the wall with his finger. "But I hate it when she does."
Silence.
"It sucked finding out about Allen and Mr. Banks," Cory continued. Gene nodded, staring again at the tractor. It silently made a lazy U-turn and chugging down the next furrow. "I just felt like they'd played some trick on me. Like they were making fun of me or something."
Cory felt the anger again, but it was only a flash. It dissolved in the great expanse of sun, air, and green fields. He watched the lazy tractor.
"I don't think they meant to," Gene said. "I think they were trying to help you become a better goalkeeper." Gene turned his head a notch and looked at Cory out of the corner of his eyes. "But, man, they sure messed up how they did it."
Cory smiled. He'd missed Gene's way of talking. It still made him laugh to think of Gene speaking so proper sometimes and then throwing in a "man". "Yeah. She should've asked me first."
He flicked another pebble off the wall. It arced out into space and fell further down the slope than the first one.
"You should tell her that," Gene said. "My parents always tell me it's more important to be honest about what's bugging you than to hide it."
Cory stared at Gene, who was still looking out across the fields. "You know, you're right."
Both boys fell silent again for a few moments.
"I was stupid to hang out with Tim."
It was Gene's turn to be surprised. "I thought you liked him."
Cory hesitated. "He's a jerk. And so was I." He looked at Gene, to show he was speaking honestly. "I mean to you. It wasn't your fault, about Allen and Mr. Banks. You were just telling me the truth."
Gene smiled and tossed a tiny pebble at Cory.
"Forget it, man."
Both boys smiled.
"You know what?" Gene said, tossing another pebble down the hill. Cory was still watching the tractor. "Coach Quinn talked to me today."
"He did?" Cory asked surprised. "About what?"
"Oh, nothin' much." Gene held out a few seconds more, teasing Cory.
"Come on, man!" Cory said, emphasizing Gene's word. He dropped his legs over each side of the wall and straddled it. "What did he want?"
"He asked about you."
"About me? Why?"
"I don't know. He sounded really worried."
Cory never imagined Coach Quinn worrying about anyone, especially him. Coach was a tough talker and demanded much from his players.
"Well, I'm fine," Cory responded. "What did he want you to do, check up on me?"
"Sort of."
"Sort of?" Cory asked, more curious now.
"He wanted me to find you. He wants you to play in goal today."
"What about Pritchard? His ankle's healed up now."
"I don't know, man. All I was supposed to do was find you and talk you into getting back to school for the game."
Cory's stomach tightened. The thought of playing, even with the memory of yesterday, was exciting. Then, he remembered his mom and a confusion of hurt and anger rushed in to replace the excitement.
"That's great. But what about my mom?" Cory swiped at a pebble. "She's probably going to kill me. Not that I deserve it after what she did."
It was all jumbling up inside him again. Cory wanted to play in the championship game, but his mother and Allen and Tony Banks were all wrapped up with soccer now and made it complicated.
"Listen," Gene said. "I'll ride back, tell your mom I found you, and that you're okay. Then, I'll meet you at the game. That way, if she wants you to come home, you won't be able to. You'll
be at the game!"
"You'd do that for me?"
"Hell yeah! It's the championship, man!"
"Okay," Cory said, swinging his left leg over and jumping off the wall. "Wait a minute," Cory said. "I need my goalie gloves." He had left them in his bedroom. "I have to have my gloves!"
"That's okay," answered Gene. He was all business now. "Leave that to me. Where are they?"
"On my desk."
"Got it. You get to the game." Gene looked at his wristwatch. "Dang! The game starts in fifteen minutes. Man, we gotta fly!"
Cory ran across the dirt floor of The Fort. Gene pushed himself away from the wall and whirled around, following. On the uphill side, Cory retrieved his bike from under a juniper bush, leaving the sleeping bag for later. He wheeled his bike around a corner wall to where Gene was standing, straddling his own bike.
"Let's fly!" he shouted and leaped on his bike. Gene was right behind him, knees thrashing the air as he worked frantically at the pedals. Cory looked back at Gene, swerving a little as he did so.
"I'll meet you at the field, okay?"
"Right!" Gene yelled.
Both boys sped down the dirt track that led away from the Fort. Two thin trails of dust lifted slowly in the air behind them. After a mile, where the dirt changed to pavement, Gene waved and peeled left, onto Longview. Cory waved back, then stood up on his pedals, leaning forward to pump faster. The bike underneath him wagged side to side and in rhythm with his pumping legs. He streaked down Jaywick Avenue. As he rode, he calculated time and distance to school. With luck, he might just make halftime.