FireHouse

Dave Conifer

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2009 Dave Conifer

Cover design by J.L. Penn, author of bestselling women’s fiction books

Discover other titles by Dave Conifer:

Throwback

Man of Steel

eBully

Snodgrass Vacation

Author’s note:

I apologize in advance for the liberal use of stereotypes in the story. Some musicians smoke and drink. Some athletes do, too. Many musicians are also fine athletes. That includes my father, the best musician I’ve ever seen, as well as my musician brothers (they’re pretty good, too). One brother won a regional wrestling championship and the other makes a living as professional musician.

Please excuse the artistic license I took here.

Chapter 1

Zach Bowie backed away from the microphone stand after singing the last lines of the Pink Floyd tune that he and the band were rehearsing. He plunked down a thumping bass line as he stepped over the cables and gadgets that surrounded him. Guitarist Joe Fauquier was in his own world as he played an extended lead that showed no signs of ending. Zach glared in Fauquier’s direction after two minutes of squealing guitar licks but Fauquier was oblivious. Bo Herndon, whose duties alternated between rhythm guitar and keyboards, shrugged and smiled without lifting his fingers from the banks of electronic instruments in front of him.

“Packing up early again?” Fauquier asked when Zach snapped his amplifier off and began unstrapping his bass guitar after the song finally ended.

“Don’t start, Joe. I can’t stay late tonight,” Zach said.

“Dude, don’t bail on us. We need a little more work before Friday,” Fauquier said. “You screwed up the words on the new ones.”

“It’s just a stupid teen dance,” Zach replied as he laid the bass guitar in its case. “We could play it in our sleep.”

Fauquier froze when he caught his own reflection in one of the many mirrors in his rented Westville bungalow. He tucked a stray wisp of black hair under the bandana and flipped the rest over his shoulder, where it splashed down his back just the way he knew it would. “That’s not the point,” he said. “We have to be perfect, no matter what. Besides, who knows who else might show up? I don’t want to spend the rest of my life humping sheetrock.”

“Yeah,” said Herndon. “I’ll bet most of the record companies will have talent scouts there. Besides us, they can scope out the fourteen-year-old chicks.” As he laughed he looked over at drummer Toby Dumphries, who joined in halfheartedly.

“How do you think bands get discovered, wise guy?” Fauquier said. “It’s usually an accident. Somebody sees them when they didn’t expect it.”

Dumphries removed his shirt and used it to wipe the sweat from his lanky body. “Joe, we’ve put in two hours for what, five nights straight?” he said. “Lighten up.”

“That’s loser talk,” Fauquier snapped. “We’ll never get anywhere with an attitude like that.”

“If Zach’s leaving then I guess I am too,” Dumphries said. “Do we need to pack up?”

“No,” Fauquier said. “Just leave it. I want to practice tomorrow. Whatever.”

“He’s been all over me lately,” Zach said a few minutes later as they drove in Dumphries’ car towards Zach’s home in Chapel Forge Township.

“Well, you’ve been ducking out on us,” Dumphries replied. “At least you have been since you got on this wrestling kick.”

“It’s not just a kick, Toby. You just don’t understand what it feels like. It’s a lot like being on stage. You wouldn’t believe how it feels when the match is over and I’m out there by myself, especially if it’s my arm that gets raised by the ref. I know I had the guts to walk onto the mat even if the other guy trashed me. It’s like a natural high.”

“You should try explaining it to Joe. He lives for the band, and you’re not into it the way you used to be.”

“Yeah I am,” Zach insisted. “It just isn’t the only thing I have going on.”

“Exactly,” Dumphries answered. “For the rest of us, it is all we have going on.”

Zach nodded. “Especially Joe. He’s twenty years old and he still thinks it’s going to happen. I love the band but I don’t want to end up like him, sitting around waiting to be discovered.”

“Or me, right?” Dumphries asked.

“No. We’re just high school guys, not like Joe. We’re supposed to be clueless.” He paused. “I just can’t see spending every waking hour getting ready for this dance. We’re just another band in South Jersey. What’s the difference?”

“Joe doesn’t see it that way. And he loves the way you sing. You’re his ticket. At least that’s what he thinks.”

“I’m not even that good.”

“But you sound different. It isn’t always about talent. No offense.”

“I know. He likes me because I sound like the guy from KISS.”

“Could be worse. At least you don’t sing like Tiny Tim.”

“Why’s this battery here, anyway?” Zach asked as he kicked at the car battery between his feet. “I keep meaning to ask.”

“This crud car died on me a few weeks ago, remember? The guy at the shop said I needed a new alternator and some other thing, and maybe a starter. It was like five hundred bucks. Or, he said I could try just replacing the battery every time it happens. So I just make sure I have a spare ready to pop in.”

“How many times has it happened?”

“Never, since then,” Dumphries admitted. “But I bet it will.”

A few minutes later the car slowed to a halt in front of a rancher with a rusting chain-link fence around a tiny front yard. “Alright, Toby, good practice,” Zach said. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Right on, brother. It’ll work out. Don’t forget your axe.”

“Speak English, goofball,” Zach said. “See ya.” He opened the rear door of the Dodge Swinger and pulled out his bass. Dumphries slammed his foot on the accelerator and sped away with wheels squealing. He always tried to leave some rubber in front of Zach’s house. It gave Mrs. Bowie something to talk about the next time she saw him.

“Hey Mom,” Zach said as he went inside, where his mother was in an easy chair sipping tea and pretending to read a magazine.

“How was practice?” she asked.

“We went through all three sets that we’re playing next week,” Zach replied.

“Where are you playing, again?”

“Teen Club dance. It’s next Friday night.”

“Oh yeah. You told me that. Mind if I come for some of it?” She and Zach’s father had split up when Zach was an infant. Money was tight even though she worked six and sometimes seven days a week as a manager in a Shipley’s restaurant. With such a brutal schedule she didn’t have much of a social life so she tried to get out whenever she could, even if it just meant an hour of conversation with a paunchy math teacher chaperone.

“Sure Mom,” Zach said, knowing she would be too tired to come. “Are you staying up?”

“No, it’s almost ten. Did you find time to get your homework done?”

“Yeah,” he said as he crossed the room and kissed her on the cheek. “I did it when I got home from school. I have to run through a few songs. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He picked up his bass and disappeared down the hall. The corners of her mouth turned up slightly as she watched him. Faint lines crinkled around her eyes. She knew he wouldn’t be working on his music.

After another minute she pulled herself out of the chair and carried her teacup into the kitchen where she rinsed it out and left it in the sink. Before she reached her bedroom she heard the familiar clanking of metal accompanied by her son’s grunts and gasps. Thirty minutes later she heard footsteps in the hallway just before the front door closed with a thud. She smiled as she moved the drapes aside to look out the window. Dressed in gray cotton sweats, with his long blond hair pulled into raggedy ponytail, Zach was stretching his legs on the sidewalk. He studied his wristwatch before taking off running towards the adult bookstore that fronted the pike at the end of the street. She knew he’d be back in less than an hour, breathing hard but trying not to make a sound as he staggered inside.

~~~

Mark Easton eased the huge Ford Excursion SUV down the ramp and onto I-295 on the cold November morning. He and Kevin Salisbury were senior co-captains of the Chapel Forge Township High School wrestling team. That morning they were on their way to participate in one last pre-season tournament in upstate New York. Both boys held a hand up to the dashboard vents, which were just beginning to throw some heat. It was just past dawn and neither looked like they wanted to be there. The frost on the windows that was slowly melting made the morning feel colder and darker.

“Hard to believe that only two of us are going,” Easton said. “In June we had ten or fifteen guys every time we did anything.”

“They aren’t as dedicated as you thought they were,” Salisbury said. “They’ll be back on board when the season starts. Everybody’s not like you. Not year-round, anyway.”

“It burns me up. Do you think Wenonah has only two guys working out this weekend? If you asked me last spring I would have told you we could finally beat them this year. Now, I’d say ‘no chance.’ Not with this bunch of slackers.”

“We have too many holes in our lineup to beat them anyway,” Salisbury said. That spawned yet another version of the conversation they’d been having for months. One by one they discussed each weight class, guessing what wrestlers would be there and trying to predict who would win the wrestle-offs for first string.

“You know who I saw the other day?” Salisbury asked. “Zach Bowie. Do you think he’ll be back this season?”

“You mean that long-haired doofus who wore gym shorts over his sweats?” Easton asked. “I hope not. I got sick every practice from his cigarette-breath.”

“He did a good job filling in when Aberdeen got hurt.”

“He won ten and lost twelve. Big deal.”

“At 171? He was only a sophomore, wrestling juniors and seniors. That’s pretty good, especially for a JV guy,” Salisbury countered.

“We don’t need a pot-smoking dead-head on the team. He can’t wrestle more than two minutes without an oxygen tank,” Easton said.

“He wasn’t in very good shape,” Salisbury agreed. “My dad remembers him. He was always standing outside the Seven-Eleven trying to get somebody to buy him cigarettes when we were twelve.”

“Yeah. If he didn’t have to wrestle all three periods he’d be undefeated,” Easton said.

“Well, I hope he comes back,” Salisbury said. ‘I don’t care how he looked. Ten wins are ten wins.”

“If he’s so good,” Easton conceded. “I hope he comes to practice. Whatever.”

Chapter 2

“Bob?” Zach said as he approached Bob Lanham, who was squatting in front of his locker.

“Yo,” Lanham answered even before turning to see who was there. Zach leaned against another locker while he waited for Bob to finish what he was doing. Finally Lanham grabbed an armload of books and stood up. “Whoa!” he said. “Zach? Is that you?”

“It’s me,” Zach said. He’d been worried that Lanham wouldn’t remember him from the prior season. Even if he did, he might not recognize Zach’s new look.

“When did you do that?” he asked, running his hand through Zach’s crew cut hairstyle. “You look so different.”

Zach thought about how many times he’d lived through this scene that day. It was his first day back at school since he’d had a foot of hair sheared off. He still wasn’t used to it himself, and constantly found himself touching the stiff bristles. “I didn’t want to spend another season tucking my hair into my headgear.”

“You look so much tougher. Does this mean you’re coming out for the team again?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I am.”

“I was afraid we lost you to the druggies.”

“I’m back.”

“Cool. You ended up winning a lot of matches last year. We didn’t know what to expect. You were all we had.”

“I guess I did alright.”

“You look like you worked out some,” he said, squeezing Zach’s bicep. “You’re a lot bigger.”

“I’ve been lifting and running,” Zach said, pleased that Lanham had noticed. After all, that was the reason he’d removed the layer of flannel that covered his tight Rolling Stones t-shirt.

“What are you weighing these days?” Lanham asked.

“I’m about 185, maybe a little more.”

“That’s about twenty pounds more than last season, isn’t it? What weight are you going?”

Cutting weight wasn’t something that Lanham needed to worry about for himself. With his huge arms and ample midsection that hung over his belt he was every inch a heavyweight. Although he was only an inch or two taller than Zach, he was at least seventy pounds heavier.

“I haven’t decided yet. It depends on where everybody else is, I guess.”

“You’re in a tough spot,” Lanham said after pausing to think. “You’ll either have to cut to 160 or go 189. Mark Easton’s at 171. You don’t want to be at 189. Those guys are big. Can you make 160?”

Zach had thought a lot about Mark Easton since the previous season ended. He had endured a constant stream of abuse from the team captain, most of it focused on Zach’s personal life. Playing in a band and staying out late smoking and drinking were anathema to guys like Easton. It didn’t help their relationship that Zach showed a consistent ability to score on Easton, at least until Zach ran out of breath.

“We’ll see,” Zach said.

“You know the first practice is Saturday morning, right?” Lanham asked.

“Yeah, five more days. I’ll be there.”

“Good. Glad to have you back.”

Zach was excited that the season would start soon because he’d worked so hard to prepare for it. Unfortunately, the first practice was the morning after the teen club dance. The band would finish playing by eleven or so, and there would be at least an hour of packing up. As much as he wanted to make an impression on the first day of practice, he knew it would be tough on just a few hours of sleep.

“Thanks,” Zach said. “See you there.” By then Lanham had finished loading his book bag. He tossed a pencil onto the shelf before slamming the locker door and walking off to class.

~~~

The school day always ended for Zach in wood shop class. It was his favorite part of the day, when he escaped to a room filled with the smell of sawdust and varnish. As he carefully sanded the bookcase he’d been working on he thought about his conversation with Lanham. Until then, he had forgotten how much of a commitment wrestling was going to be. He worried that with the band, school, and now wrestling, he was overextending himself. Joe’s already pissed at me because of the time I spent trying to get into shape, he thought. What’ll he be like once the season starts? Can I do this?

~~~

“Any of you gents up for a party?” Fauquier asked as they squeezed into his van. He was in good spirits because the teen club dance had gone well. They’d crammed all of their equipment into the back and on the roof. To keep things simple the band often traveled to gigs together in the van, even local ones.

“Right on,” Dumphries said. Herndon nodded as he lit a cigarette. The menthol scent made Zach crave the habit that he had learned to resist but hadn’t yet kicked. The temptation made him even more desperate to get home to rest up for wrestling practice but he said nothing because he knew he would be outvoted. When Dumphries lit up a cigarette of his own, he’d had enough.

“Can’t you guys go ten minutes without smoking?” he asked.

“What are you, the surgeon general?” Herndon asked before blowing a smoke ring in Zach’s direction.

Zach waved it away, turning it into a shapeless grey haze. Maybe he didn’t have any choice about staying out late but he didn’t have to be agreeable about any of it. “I just don’t want to fill my lungs with your fumes,” he said.

“Oh yeah, I forgot,” Herndon said. “You’re ‘Mr. Fitness’ now, you and your new muscles. I hope you won’t kick sand in my face next time we’re at the shore.” Fauquier laughed as he pulled the van away from the curb and into traffic.

“Screw all of you,” Zach said, trying not to smile at the image Herndon had conjured up.

“Everything was pretty good tonight, don’t you think?” Dumphries asked from the front seat.

“Yeah, I’d say so,” Herndon said.

Zach leaned over and popped the side window open as far as it would go. Nobody said anything as they watched him push his face as close as he could, breathing in fresh air from outside. When they reached the party, at a painted brick building in Pennsauken, the four band members spilled out of the van.

“Where are we, anyway?” Dumphries asked.

“That’s Route 73 right there,” Fauquier said. “We’re not far from home.”

“No, I mean, whose place is this?”

“That guy Jackie, the guy who sings for the band with two drummers,” Fauquier said. “What’s their name again?”

“Easter Island,” Herndon said. “They’re still together?”

“I don’t know,” Fauquier told him. “He told me we could drop by. He doesn’t live here. He works here, or something like that.”

“It looks like an old fire house,” Dumphries said.

“Joe, I can’t stay late,” Zach said as they walked toward the building. “Cut me a break just this once, alright?”

“Okay, okay,” Fauquier said. “Stop stressing. We’re looking out for you.”

When they walked inside they found themselves in a dimly lit room, shrouded in smoke. The smell had always reminded Zach of burning leaves, which of course, was what it was. A short man with a face that was pocked with acne scars waved them through without saying anything. The four passed through and into a larger area where there was more light.

Fauquier immediately spotted some musicians he knew and headed off to do some networking, with Herndon a few steps behind. Zach and Dumphries remained by the door, unsure of where to go. “Somebody actually works here?” Dumphries asked. “Zach, man, let’s go look for a keg. There’s got to be one somewhere.”

“You go ahead,” Zach said. “I’m going outside to get some air.”

“We just came in,” Dumphries said. “What’s with you? You’ve been acting weird all night.”

“Dude, wrestling season starts tomorrow. I don’t want to be gasping for breath like I did last season. I can’t be sucking smoke into my lungs.”

“What are you talking about? You smoke as much as anybody.”

“Not anymore. You just haven’t noticed. I haven’t smoked anything since the springtime. I’ve gotten pretty good at faking it.”

Dumphries cocked his head and gawked at Zach. “You mean you didn’t inhale?”

“Nope. It kills your stamina.”

“Stamina,” Dumphries said. “Yeah right. Well what about that keg, are you with me?”

“Nope. Same reason.”

“Joe and Bo are right, you’re flipping out. I mean, you nearly had your face out the window on the way over here.”

“I don’t want to make a big deal about it, alright?”

“Yeah, sure. But I’m still going for a brewski.”

Zach found what looked like a door to the outside. “Just before he pushed it open he heard a voice. “That doesn’t go anywhere,” warned somebody who was lurking in the dark near the door.

“Thanks,” he said. “I’ll be okay.” He pushed the door open and walked outside onto a gravel parking lot. The door swished closed behind him, instantly cutting off the sounds of music and partying. It was quiet.

The view was surprisingly nice. If he looked past the highway and a few car dealerships he could see the Delaware River and the lights of suburban Pennsylvania on the other side. He was squinting to the south looking for the Philadelphia skyline when he heard the door open and swish shut again. “Hi,” the same voice said. “I thought I’d have a smoke out here. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No problem,” Zach said, wondering what he had to do to get away from cigarette smoke. The light was a little better outside and he recognized her from hanging out in the past. She dressed like a gypsy, with lots of dangling jewelry and scarves. Defying the cold, she wore wispy clothing from head to toe.

She rapped the top of the cigarette pack with her fingers before removing one and putting it between her lips. “You’re in Joe’s band, right?” she asked as she clicked her lighter until a flame appeared.

“Yeah,” Zach said.

“What’s with the haircut?” she asked before cupping her hands over the cigarette to prevent the wind from extinguishing the flame.

“I just got tired of combing it,” he told her, hoping it would be her last question.

“It looks good,” she said after lighting the cigarette and snapping the lighter shut. “I know what you mean about the hair,” she said. “I’d cut mine off too but I’ve finally got this Stevie Nicks look down pat. It takes a lot of time. And the dresses and capes. Oh brother. That’s not even counting the hair time.”

Zach laughed. “You do look like her, now that you mention it.”

“I’m Jeanine.”

“I’m Zach.”

“Good to meet you Zach. I heard you’re in high school.”

“Yeah, eleventh grade.”

She moved a few feet away and sat on a bench that Zach hadn’t seen in the darkness. He followed her over but didn’t sit. “Are you in school?” Zach asked.

“No, I graduated a couple years ago.”

“Are you in a band?”

“No. I just hang around. I’m a groupie, I guess. I don’t even have a job right now.”

Zach shrugged but said nothing.

Before another word was spoken the door burst open and a bushy-haired man in a brown jacket emerged. Zach recognized him as a guitar player from somewhere nearby. His bleached beard made him look older than he probably was. As he fell out the door he managed to maintain control of the drink and cigarette that he held in one hand. Before saying anything he glared at Jeanine while taking a long drag on the cigarette. “Where did you go?” he snarled.

“Right here,” she told him. “I told you I was coming out here, Wade.”

“Who’s this guy?” he said. This time, clear liquid sloshed out of the cup as he gestured in Zach’s direction.

“Who are you?” Jeanine asked Zach with a smile.

“I’m Mick Jagger,” Zach told him.

“Look junior, I don’t need your garbage,” he said. “Shut your trap.”

Zach had seen this tough-guy act by so many drunks that it wasn’t even fun to play along anymore. “Relax. We’re just talking,” he said.

“What’s going on inside?” Jeanine asked Wade.

“Same as before,” he answered. “Standing around, sucking down beers.” As he spoke he maneuvered closer to the bench. When he was close enough he rested a foot on the bench between Zach and Jeanine, and took another drag on the cigarette.

Moments after a cloud of fresh smoke drifted his way Zach felt a stinging pain on his wrist inside the sleeve of his coat. He realized that Wade was burning him with the lit end of his cigarette. After jerking his arm away he turned and gave Wade a two-handed shove to the chest, knocking him backwards. “Better back off, man!” Zach said.

“Don’t tell me what to do, man,” Wade said. He took a step toward Zach but then began to flail as he lost his footing in the gravel. A second later Zach’s face and left shoulder were drenched with what was left in the cup, which turned out to be vodka. Not caring whether it had been done purposely, Zach spun Wade around and pushed him up against the side of the building. Drawing on his wrestling skills, he put him in an arm bar hold, immobilizing him with little effort.

“Are you cool?” Zach demanded as he wiped his face against his dry shoulder. “Can I let go now?”

Wade said nothing but stopped writhing when he realized he was stuck. “I’m letting go,” Zach told him. “Don’t try anything.”

Wade had other ideas. As soon as he was free he turned and lunged wildly. Zach felt a fingernail scrape across his forehead. Easily sidestepping the attack, Zach grabbed him around the waist and threw him face first into the gravel where he was finally still. This time Zach knew Wade wasn’t going to be any more trouble, if he was even conscious. He pushed his sleeve up and probed the burn on his forearm. That’ll look real good at practice tomorrow, he thought. That reminded him that he needed to get home. It was time to get back inside and start nagging Fauquier about leaving.

“I’m sorry about this. He wouldn’t let it go,” Zach said, holding out his burned forearm.

“I know. He deserved it,” she said. “He always does. Your head’s bleeding too.”

“I really need to get going,” Zach said. “I better go find my friends. I’m real sorry about him,” he said again.

“Do you need to be somewhere?”

“Just home. I have wrestling practice tomorrow,” he said. He hadn’t meant to tell her anything personal, especially something that sounded so square.

“Where do you live? I’ll take you,” she offered.

“What about him?” Zach asked, jabbing his thumb toward Wade, who hadn’t moved.

“Maybe we could get him inside before we leave,” she suggested.

“Okay,” Zach agreed. He bent down and pulled Wade into a sitting position. Using a fireman’s carry, a wrestling takedown he’d learned the year before, he picked up Wade’s limp body and threw him across his own back. Jeanine opened the door and they brought him inside. There was no furniture nearby and Zach wasn’t sure what to do with him.

“Take him over there,” Jeanine said, pointing to a small room in which a bare light bulb burned.

“In that little closet?”

“Yeah, just dump him outside the door. Hopefully nobody will step on him.”

When Zach laid Wade on his back he saw that there was purplish mixture of blood and dirt on his face. That must be from where he had landed in the gravel. Instinctively, Zach looked at the shoulder of his coat where Wade’s head had rested and saw that it was the same color.

“Will he be alright?” Zach asked.

“Yeah, he’ll wake up and not even remember what happened,” she said. “He gets in fights all the time.”

Zach looked at the burn on his arm again, and then at his watch. 2:30. Man, he thought. How did it get so late so fast? “I need to get out of here,” he said, hoping Jeanine would repeat the offer to drive him.

~~~

“So where do you live?” Zach asked after giving directions to his own home.

“Oh, just around,” she said. “Here and there.”

“Are you from this area?” he asked. What he was really wondering was how she survived. With no apparent means for supporting herself, he guessed that she must have parents or family nearby.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that,” she finally said.

Her reluctance to tell him about herself made him all the more curious but it was late and he was too tired to push for more information. When they reached his house it was after three o’clock. Wrestling practice would start in six hours and all he wanted to do was get to bed.

“Well, thanks for the ride, Jeanine.”

“Anytime,” she answered. “Maybe I’ll see you around. I’ll look for you at the next show.”

Zach walked to the front door after watching her pull away in her weather beaten sedan with the torn vinyl roof. He wondered if there was a father somewhere worrying about whether his daughter was okay and when she was going to be home. Letting her leave without knowing she had a place to go felt wrong, especially when he was headed into a safe, comfortable home. Even a free spirit needs a place to sleep at night.

Chapter 3

The next morning came for Zach just a few short hours after he’d gone to bed. Except for the burn on his wrist and the scratch on his forehead he looked and felt better than expected, even with very little sleep. His dogged avoidance of alcohol and smoke the night before had paid off, he realized with satisfaction as he prepared for practice.

The green army fatigue jacket he would normally have worn was soiled with dirt and blood so he pulled his mother’s down-filled jacket out of the closet and put it on before walking out the door. Its red color and puffy shape felt feminine to him but it was so cold outside that he didn’t have much of a choice. Besides, looking like he was wearing his mother’s coat was the least of his concerns that morning. He was more anxious than he had expected to be about the first day of practice.

The high school was about a mile away. Like he did every morning, Zach walked through the neighborhood of boxy World War II era brick houses towards the school. The cold bit his exposed ears and newly shaven head until he put on the knit AC-DC cap he dug out of his gym bag. He’d left his gloves with his own coat, so he hooked the gym bag over his shoulder and jammed his hands into the soft pockets of the jacket. It was early enough that nobody was out except for a few stray cats looking for an easy meal and a warm space.

This was the first time in years that he’d actually cared about what happened during the season. His interest in the sport had been rekindled the previous winter when he’d surprised so many people by having some success. But it was more than just winning that brought him back. There was no greater feeling than when he stood alone against whoever walked out from the other side. The sensation was an incredible rush, maybe better than what he felt when he was on stage with the band. In all his years of wrestling he’d never felt it before, and once he’d experienced it he was hooked.

During the intervening months he’d trained hard, out of the eyes of his closest friends in the garage band world of South Jersey. While maintaining the image of a laid back rocker he secretly lifted weights and ran endlessly in the dark of night. By the time school resumed in early September he could run five miles in thirty minutes and was bench-pressing well over 200 pounds. There would be plenty of wrestlers in the room that morning that could beat those numbers, he knew. What made Zach proud was that none of them had smoked three packs of Marlboros a day for four years the way he had.

When he entered the locker room the familiar smell of mildew was oddly comforting. He immediately began to see familiar faces. Tim Betterton, wearing nothing but a jockstrap, was about to step on the scale. Betterton was a lightweight wrestler who had earned a starting position in the varsity lineup the previous season and was expected to do so again. Zach walked over and waited for him to finish making adjustments to the scale.

“Hi, Tim. How’s the weight?” Zach asked, trying to sound casual. He needed to find some friends on the team fast and Tim was a good possibility. He had never shown any resentment about Zach’s lifestyle.

Betterton, who didn’t have his glasses on, squinted back without saying anything as he stepped off the scale. “Oh, Zach,” he finally said as he walked past. “You look so different. I didn’t know who you were.” Before Zach had a chance to answer Betterton disappeared down an aisle of lockers. Zach quickly turned the other way and picked an empty locker in an empty row.

As he began stripping off his street clothes two more wrestlers he knew came in. Glen Elg and Reggie Montgomery, two middleweights, were joking loudly as they pushed past Zach. “Hey,” Zach said when they dropped their bags in front of nearby lockers.

“Hey,” Elg said, glancing over for less than a second. Montgomery didn’t bother to look over at all.

“What do you think practice will be like today?” Zach asked, trying to think of something to start some conversation. “Do you think we’ll wrestle live?”

“I doubt it,” Elg said.

Zach saw Montgomery shake his head from side to side without looking up from the shoes he was untying. “The coach likes to give everybody a few days to loosen up first,” he said.

“Dude, it’s me! Zach. Zach Bowie.”

Montgomery looked up from his shoes. “Man!” Montgomery said. “I didn’t even see it was you. I thought you were some freshman.”

“I got a haircut. How are you guys doing?”

“I need to check my weight,” Montgomery said. “I haven’t been near a scale since last March.”

“Me too,” Elg said. The two tore off another layer of clothing and walked over to the scale, and once again Zach was alone. It wasn’t going the way he’d hoped. Even Bob Lanham barely nodded as he walked past.

One person who did come over to talk with him in the locker room was Coach Rich Crisfield himself. “Zach, I’m glad you’re back this year,” he said. “Bob was right, you look like you’ve been working hard.”

“Yeah, Coach,” Zach said. “I put in a lot of time at it.”

“I can see that. Conditioning was your biggest problem. If you’re in shape you might have a shot at making the varsity this year.”

“Hope so. That’s my goal.”

“What are you, about 165 or 170?”

“I think I’m closer to 185. At least.”

“Hmm,” Coach said. “You’re taller, I guess that’s it.” Zach knew he was already trying to arrange his wrestling lineup in his head.

“Zach, I came over to remind you that you haven’t turned in your physical exam form yet. I’m really not supposed to let you practice today.”

The physical examination form was something Zach had hoped wouldn’t come up. He hadn’t turned in the form because he hadn’t had an examination. Visits to the doctor didn’t happen in his household very often. Zach had chosen not to bring it up with his mom because it would only lead to a tirade about ‘crappy Shipley’s health insurance’ and ‘hundred dollar doctor visits.’ “I’ll bring it next time,” he promised Crisfield.

“Okay, that’s fine,” Crisfield said. “We can let it slide for now.”

The wrestling room was exactly like it had always been first thing Saturday morning. It was cold and sterile, although that would change by the time practice was over. Wrestlers referred to the room as the “Fire House” because of how quickly it heated up. The smells of mold and sweat were still faint, overpowered by the unnatural odor of the mats because the room was cold. As the temperature rose the sharp aroma of the mat would be overtaken by the ripe, stale smells of wrestling practice.

“Hey Burnout! What are you doing here?”

Zach didn’t need to look up to know who was yelling at him as he laced up his shoes while sitting against the wall. It wasn’t the first time Mark Easton had called him that, or other similar names.

“Burnout,” Easton said again as he came closer. “I’m surprised you came back out this year.”

“Here I am.”

“Got any weed in your locker? We’re bringing in the dogs after practice to search for drugs.” Easton pulled out a jump rope and began skipping, sometimes whipping it beneath his feet twice between jumps. Zach could hear the woosh of the rope as it passed dangerously close to his face. The sound of it snapping against the mat echoed around the room.

“I haven’t smoked anything in months, Jerkoff,” Zach said.

Easton froze in mid jump. The rope landed with a final slap against the mat. “What did you call me?” he asked.

“You heard me.”

The two upper-weights who had been wrestling nearby suddenly stopped what they were doing and looked over. Nobody talked that way to Easton, especially not in the Fire House.

“You think you can walk into my room and talk to me like that?” Easton demanded as he let the rope drop to the floor. “You’re nothing but a wasted druggie. You’re a skinny nobody.”

“We’ll see when wrestle-offs start,” Zach told him. “I’m going 171 this year.”

“You couldn’t beat me even if I was down to one lung, just like you are. Don’t do it,” he warned. “I’ll make you look bad, Burnout.”

This was the same abuse that Easton had heaped on Zach for as long as he could remember. But Zach thought he’d seen Easton flinch. He slowly climbed to his feet without answering. Without warning he shot at Easton, grabbed both his legs and took him down hard with a sloppy double-leg takedown. Before he knew it, the team captain was on his back in a tight headlock. He flailed furiously trying to free himself. When he couldn’t, he balled his free hand into a fist and swung wildly, somehow managing to connect with Zach’s cheekbone.

The other wrestlers in the room had enjoyed the confrontation until it turned ugly. After the punch was thrown two of them jumped on Zach and struggled to pull him off. Easton landed another punch to Zach’s chin. While Zach was being restrained Easton continued to throw punches at his face. By the time Zach had been dragged away his lower lip was oozing blood.

“You dirty son of a bitch!” Easton yelled as he scrambled to his feet. “Let him go! Right here, right now, Burnout!”

Coach Crisfield ran into the room and ended the standoff from the doorway with one word. “Enough!” he shouted. All heads turned and even Easton quieted down instantly. “What’s the matter with you guys?” Crisfield said as he crossed the mat. “We’re a team, remember? What happened?”

Zach touched his lip with a thumb and found it was red with blood. His cheekbone hurt so he tested it with another finger. That one came up dry.

“Ask him, Coach,” Easton said as he pointed at Zach.

“He got what he deserved,” said a voice from the back of the crowd.

Crisfield’s presence was enough to restore order, and practice began a few minutes later. After the incident practice was as uneventful as Reggie Montgomery had predicted it would be. They did some calisthenics, followed by strength training in the weight room, and then some basic wrestling drills. They finished up with a three-mile run. By the end of the run Zach’s lungs were burning as they sucked in cold air but he managed to finish first. He locked eyes with Coach Crisfield as he crossed the finish line. Crisfield nodded silently after checking his stopwatch.

~~~

“How was practice?”

“Good, Mom,” Zach answered. “We didn’t do too much. I won the three-miler.”

“You’re kidding! That’s fantastic! Was it good to be back?”

“Yeah. It was, Mom.”

“Was the coach surprised to see you?”

“He didn’t act like it.”

“I think that’s good. Don’t you?” she asked.

After nodding in agreement he walked into the bathroom. He was thankful that his mother had chosen not to mention the scratched forehead, swollen lip or bluish cheekbone that she couldn’t have helped noticing. When he knew she had left for work he returned to the kitchen and filled a baggie with ice cubes. For the next hour he laid on the floor on his back, moving the ice bag from wound to wound. It had been an exhausting day, preceded by a long night. Before long he was asleep. When he awoke, with a bag of warm water resting on his face, the room was nearly dark. He had slept all day.

Chapter 4

Dumphries laughed out loud the next day when he saw Zach. “You’re coming to practice like that?” he asked. Besides sweatpants, Zach was wearing a plastic trash bag with holes ripped into it for his head and arms. He held his bass guitar case in one hand and a well-stuffed gym bag in the other. “Joe’s gonna’ freak.”

“I’ll change before I get there,” Zach said as he pulled a sweatshirt over the trash bag.

“Then why not change now?”

“I want you to drop me off a few miles before we get there. I’ll run the rest of the way.”

“Jeez, man,” Dumphries said after they were in the car and on their way. “I hope you know what you’re doing. We’ve got band practice and you have to screw us all up by making us wait for you?”

“I won’t be long,” Zach promised. “Hey, whatever happened to the battery that was in here? I was getting used to having a foot rest.”

“It died again two days ago. I put the new battery in and it started right up. Lucky I had it. I have to go buy a new one for a spare though.”

“How long before you’ve spent more on batteries than it would have to fix it?” Zach asked.

“I don’t know. Who cares? Carpe diem.”

The scenery became grittier as they passed through rings of suburbs in the direction of Philadelphia. Zach looked out the window as they passed run-down strip malls and fast food restaurants. He hoped Dumphries understood what was happening with the wrestling. They had been friends for years.

“You can’t bag the exercise just for today?” Dumphries asked. “Hey, get it, ‘bag’?”

“No way,” Zach said. “Staying in shape doesn’t work that way. You can’t take days off, otherwise you lose everything.”

“And the bag’s for losing weight, right?”

“Yup. I have to get down to 171.”

“What are you now?”

“About 184.”

“I thought you’re not supposed to just sweat it all off.”

Zach shrugged. “You’re not, but I’m cutting it any way I can. I have to beat that guy at his own weight class.”

“What guy?”

“Mark Easton.”

“I don’t know him.”

“You go to a different school, how would you? The guy was all over me the whole season last year. He’s a real straight arrow. Yesterday he jumped me. Where do you think I got this?” he asked, tapping the bluish, yellowish bruise on his face.

“He jumped you?”

“Well, after I jumped him first,” Zach laughed. “But I’m not taking his crap anymore. I could have beat him last year if I hadn’t been out of shape. It’ll be different this season.”

“Sounds personal.”

“It is. He doesn’t like me. I don’t like him and his fancy wrestling shoes and silky sweat suits. It seems like he has a different one every practice.”

Dumphries took his eyes off the road long enough to look Zach up and down. “He must be wild about you and your dirty grays. Not to mention your trash bag.”

“And my duct-taped wrestling shoes. Those are going to have to go. Hey, let me out at that IHOP.”

After Dumphries pulled into the parking lot Zach hopped out of the car. “Wait a minute, I can’t run with this,” he said, holding up the gym bag. “Just leave the car unlocked when you get there, okay?” He dropped the bag on the seat. “I’ll change when I get there.”

Thirty minutes later Zach arrived at Fauquier’s house on foot. After locating the car on the street he slipped inside and began poking through the gym bag for his street clothes. He felt the cold air penetrating his wet sweats. Suddenly stripping his clothes off in the frigid car seemed like something he didn’t want to do. He picked up the bag and closed the car door. Joe was just going to have to deal with it.

The car across the street looked familiar so Zach walked over for a closer look. When he saw the shredded roof he realized that it was Jeanine’s car. But what would she be doing here, Zach wondered. Did she know Joe? He strained to remember if she had mentioned anything about him. If she were there that would be one more reason to feel embarrassed about how he was dressed.

“Look who’s here,” Herndon said loudly when Zach walked in. Zach didn’t answer because he was busy looking around for Jeanine. “What the hell are you wearing? That looks like a garbage bag.”

The apartment reeked of the polish that Fauquier constantly slathered on his guitar. As he passed through the room he heard Dumphries explaining why Zach was wearing the bag. Outside the kitchen, just before he was able to duck into the bathroom to change, Jeanine and Fauquier appeared.

“Jeanine,” Zach said. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Gee, it almost sounds like you’re glad to see me,” she said with a smile. “Almost.”

“I didn’t know you and Joe were friends, that’s all,” Zach said.

“Didn’t I tell you? I know everybody. Joe said I could watch you guys play.” She put her hand on his shoulder as she walked past but yanked it back suddenly. “Yuck, you’re all clammy,” she said before disappearing into the next room.

“So now you’re going to start coming to practice dressed like this?” Fauquier asked. “Are you with us or not, man? Every day you care less about what we’re trying to do.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” He glanced quickly in the direction Jeanine had gone, wondering how much of this she was hearing.

“You’re here, alright. Wearing a trash bag.”

“But I’m here,” Zach repeated. “I’ll be ready in a minute.” He walked into the bathroom, emptied the gym bag onto the floor, and began stripping off the sopping sweats. Rather than pull the dank trash bag over his head he ripped it from his body, scrunched it up and jammed it into the trash can. I think I look lighter, he joked to himself after glancing in the mirror at his wet, naked body. He waited another minute, hoping he might dry out some, before getting dressed in the jeans and flannel shirt that he’d packed.

“Zach, we’ve been ready to go for a half-hour,” Fauquier said when Zach emerged. Herndon and Dumphries were already at their posts, ready to start practice, but Joe had waited stubbornly outside the bathroom door. Zach walked past and headed for his amplifier without even looking at him. Five minutes after walking in the door he was plugged in and ready to play.

Herndon started it with the familiar grinding riff on his guitar. Dumphries joined in after two measures, pounding away on his bass and snare drums. Zach yelled “Fire House!” into the microphone before joining in on bass. Seeing that Zach had no intention of answering, Fauquier trudged over and strapped on his guitar. Seconds later all four had forgotten about the tension between Fauquier and Zach. They slogged through a typically raucous rendition of Kiss’s ‘Fire House’. Zach’s voice boomed through the room and filled the voids in the music. It had long been an unspoken custom for the band to open every practice with the song. For Zach it always felt like pre-match stretching and warmups. Each time they reached the chorus Fauquier eased over to share the microphone with Zach in a move that he’d seen in countless rock videos on MTV. His anger no longer apparent, he grinned at his bandmates and bobbed his head to Dumphries’ hammering beat.

“Whooooooo! Oh yeah!” shouted Herndon when the song was finished. “Nothing like a little Fire House, boys!”

After they finished Zach noticed that Jeanine had settled into the window seat in the front of the room. She seemed mesmerized by the band as she sat quietly with her eyes fixed on them.

Zach, who was still trying to catch his breath, nodded with satisfaction at Herndon. He watched Fauquier put his guitar down and walk out of the room. When he came back he had a boom box and a few CDs. “I’ve got a few ideas I want to talk about,” he said.

“You mean you’ve made a few decisions,” Herndon said. “Right, Boss?”

“I was checking out the crowd at that last dance,” Fauquier said. “Half the stuff we played, they didn’t even know. They didn’t have a clue.”

“Well, we play a lot of original stuff,” Dumphries said. “How would they ever know that?”

“And we’re going to keep playing our own songs,” Fauquier said. “We’ve got to show that we’re not just record-copiers. But I’m talking about adding some new covers.”

“I think it’s a good idea,” Zach said. “At gigs like that we play a lot of the wrong stuff. Those kids don’t want to hear Blue Oyster Cult or Sabbath.”

“I did see one kid yelling for Jethro Tull,” Herndon said with a straight face. “It was the kid with the ‘Sesame Street’ shirt.”

“Right,” Fauquier said, ignoring Herndon. “We need to mix in some teeny-bopper stuff and some ballads. I got two easy songs here. This one’s KISS,” he said, pushing a button on the boom box. “’Shandi.’”

The music started before anybody could make any wisecracks about Joe’s known infatuation with KISS. Zach knew the song but had never imagined adding it to the repertoire. He considered it a pop song that KISS had recorded when they were trying for a more commercial sound. It wasn’t too bad though. “I like it,” he said after the song ended.

“I love that song,” Jeanine said from across the room. Zach looked over, still not sure why she was even there.

“Oh boy, another KISS song,” Herndon said. “What are you, Ace Frehley? I can’t wait to hear what else you have in mind.”

“Aerosmith,” Fauquier said.

“Nothing wrong with that,” Herndon said.

Zach waited as Fauquier inserted a different CD. Something told him that Herndon wasn’t going to like Fauquier’s choice. When the song started he recognized it instantly. It was “I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing,” a ballad that was different than anything Aerosmith had ever played.

“You got to be kidding!” exploded Herndon. “That’s the gayest song I ever heard! Zach here’s going to have to put a dress on when he sings it!”

“SHHH!” said Jeanine. “I love this song too!”

“Of course you do,” Herndon said. “It’s a chick’s song.”

“Well, in a way that’s the point,” Fauquier said. “We’ve never played stuff like this. Maybe it’ll set us apart and get us noticed. You know, ‘this band can do it all,’ something like that.”

“Can you sing this, Zach?” Dumphries asked. “It seems like it might be hard to pull off.”

“I don’t know,” Zach admitted. “I’ll try. I’d like to try it alone first. It might be embarrassing.”

“Here, take the CD,” Fauquier said, holding it out.

“Awe, come on,” Jeanine said. “Try it now, I want to hear it.”

“Maybe at the end, after I’m warmed up,” Zach said. He knew it wouldn’t happen. Fauquier would want everybody to brush up on the songs on their own before they tried them together. Instead, they spent the next couple of hours practicing the same songs they always played.

Later, after the instruments had been packed up, Fauquier sat down at the kitchen table where Zach was packing up his gym bag. “So Zach, how much weight do you have to lose, anyway?”

“A little over ten pounds,” Zach said. He rushed the words because Jeanine was walking over.

“It isn’t going to look good if our lead singer is all pasty and scrawny.”

“I’m sure I won’t look any different.”

Jeanine pulled out a chair for herself. “I can’t wait to hear the new songs,” she said.

“Well, I really need to go,” Zach said. “We’re done, right?”

“I was going to hang out a little,” Dumphries said.

“I’ll take you home,” Jeanine said quickly.

Zach hesitated, but realized he didn’t have a choice. He had homework waiting for him. Dumphries didn’t look like he’d be ready to leave anytime soon. Besides, Jeanine had taken him home before. What was the big deal this time?

“Okay,” he said. “If you wouldn’t mind. Joe, I’ll work on those songs for next time, I swear,” he said.

“Sure, cool,” Fauquier said. “I think it’ll be a good move for us.”

“I really like those songs you guys are adding,” Jeanine said after they were on their way to Zach’s house.

“How well do you know Joe?” Zach asked.

“I’ve watched him for years. He’s the best guitarist I’ve ever seen. Not that I known anything.”

“I’m a little nervous about those new songs. I’ve never really done any slow songs like that. I’m more of a screamer.”

“I don’t think so. You’re good. I can’t wait to hear it.”

Zach laughed. “I can.”

“So you were wearing the plastic bag to try to lose weight?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Well, in wrestling you go by how much you weigh. You know, you wrestle against guys who weigh the same as you,” he explained.

“But you’re not doing that,” she said. “If you’re losing weight, you’re going against guys who weigh less.”

“Well, they’re doing it too. It’s just the way the sport is.”

They drove for a few minutes without speaking. When they were pretty close to Zach’s house Jeanine finally broke the silence. “Do you think I could come see a wrestling game?”

“A match,” Zach said, smiling. “They’re called matches. Sure.”

“I‘d really like to see it. I’ve never seen a match before.”

By then they were at Zach’s house. “Well, thanks for the ride.”

She leaned over and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Bye Zach. Good luck with the songs.”

Later, Zach wondered why Jeanine had kissed him. She had no right to. He hadn’t given her any reason to think he wanted to kiss her, that he had any interest in her at all.

On the other hand, it would really burn up the jocks on the team, especially Easton, if a rock band groupie showed up at the matches to watch one of the wrestlers. Maybe she’d even bring some friends. That was something that made Zach smile. Then it made him laugh.

Chapter 5

“Alright, gentlemen, listen up,” Coach Crisfield said from the front of the wrestling room. “We’re going live for a few minutes. After that we’re going for a run. After we run we’re done. Everybody split into your round-robin groups. One-minute periods.”

It was the middle of the first week of practice. Zach knew that wrestling live would be the first real test of his stamina. The round-robin wrestling sessions were grueling. Each man in the group would take on the other three group members in a one-minute battle in rapid succession. By the end of the session only those who were in top physical condition would be in any shape for running. The rest would stagger out of the room gasping for air, then loaf through the run and try to disappear into the locker room without being noticed.

Crisfield’s itinerary included another challenge for Zach. It had been just a few days since the fight with Easton. The two had avoided each other since then. Now, because they were in the same round-robin group, they would face each other on the mat for the first time since they’d clashed.

“How are we starting? Neutral position?” a voice asked.

“Yeah,” Crisfield said. “Start on your feet and wrestle until somebody gets a takedown. Then start on your feet again. Go until you hear a whistle.”

As luck would have it, Zach was first up. He wrestled to a draw with Jim Olney, a sophomore who was planning to compete for the starting spot at the 189-pound weight class. Olney nearly scored in the opening seconds with a double-leg takedown but Zach locked his hands through Olney’s crotch and held on until the other two wrestlers in the group called it a stalemate. After that the two sparred without leaving their feet until the period ended.

After a minute against freshman Eric Crofton, against whom Zach scored three takedowns, it was time for the showdown. When the period ended Zach untangled himself from Crofton and returned to the circle on the mat in their corner of the room. Easton was already there in his stance waiting for Zach.

The whistle blew before Zach was in position but Easton came at Zach anyway. Without any setup at all he lowered his level and shot for a double-leg takedown. He penetrated deeply enough that he easily took both of Zach’s legs. Instead of picking Zach up and dumping him to the side he went straight through, driving Zach backwards and onto the mat. Zach had no choice but to surrender the takedown and turn away before he ended up on his back. Easton had drawn first blood.

“Nice double,” Zach said as they prepared for a re-start. He guessed that there was still more than a half-minute left in the period. Plenty of time to even the score, he thought. As Easton settled into his stance Zach fought the impulse to shoot on him before he was ready. This wasn’t the time to break the rules. Instead, they both got set and waited for another member of the group to start them off by barking “wrestle!” which was how it was done in the Fire House.

This time Easton came even harder, but Zach was ready. When Easton shot for another leg takedown, the way Zach knew he would, he kicked his legs back out of Easton’s reach and landed chest first on Easton’s back in a well-executed sprawl defense. He pushed Easton’s head away with a cross-face and tried to spin behind but Easton blocked his path with an arm. Just a few seconds later both wrestlers heard their coach suspend competition from across the room by yelling “Stalemate! Re-start over there!” Zach took note of the fact that everybody in the room was watching Easton against Bowie. He felt that the coach had called the stalemate too quickly, almost as if he was trying to keep Easton out of danger.

There couldn’t have been more than fifteen seconds left, Zach was sure. It was a great relief that he had wrestled for nearly three minutes and wasn’t having any trouble breathing, a stark contrast from his experience in the previous season. After being taken down once he had managed to hold Easton off the second time. This time he was determined to score a takedown of his own. Before Easton had a chance to shoot Zach distracted him by faking a tie up. After taking Easton’s arm he dropped and threw his own arm between Easton’s legs and pulled him down to the mat in a fireman’s carry, earning the takedown he’d wanted so badly. Since Easton was on his side in a vulnerable position, Zach couldn’t resist going in for the kill. He quickly inserted a half nelson and cranked Easton onto his back just as the whistle blew.

“What’s the matter with you!” Easton yelled as he scrambled to his feet. “Stop after a takedown! If you do that again I’ll take your head off!”

Coach Crisfield intervened before the confrontation went any further. “Next man up! Come on, let’s go!”

Zach and Easton wrestled against each other later for another minute, when it was Easton’s turn to take on the rest of the group. That time neither wrestler was able to score. Zach kept his feelings to himself but as he pulled his running shoes on after the wrestling was done he felt satisfied, even pleased, with how he had done against his rival.

“I saw you take Easton to his back,” Bob Lanham said as bands of wrestlers trudged down the hall towards the gym. “Everybody’s watching you, you know.”

“Good,” Zach said. “They better get used to it. I’m planning on wrestling off for 171 against him.”

“That’s a mistake,” Lanham said. “The team doesn’t need you guys fighting each other every week for that spot. Can’t you make it to 160?”

“No way,” Zach said, shaking his head. “I’ll be lucky to get to 171. Why doesn’t he go to 160?”

Later, when Coach Crisfield dropped by Zach’s locker after practice, Zach came to realize that it hadn’t been coincidence that Lanham had tracked him down to talk about weight classes. Crisfield had probably sent him. “Zach, got a minute?”

“Sure,” Zach said. There were still a few other wrestlers lingering around but if the coach didn’t care what they heard, Zach saw no reason to care either.

“I hear you’re planning on wrestling Mark for 171. Is that true?” Crisfield asked.

“Yeah, Coach,” Zach said. “I don’t want to be mixing it up with those guys up at 189. I’m not big enough.”

“Well,” Coach Crisfield said slowly. “I’m not so sure it’s best for the team if you do this. We were counting on having Mark at 171.”

“If I beat him, doesn’t that mean we’re even better with me there?”

“It’s just that I don’t want him butting heads with you every week. Don’t you see? He doesn’t need that, it’ll distract him.”

“What about me? I don’t need to get mauled by 189-pounders every week.”

Crisfield sighed and looked around. “I understand, Zach, I really do. I’m not trying to play favorites here.”

“He could make 160 but I can’t. Maybe he should cut more weight.”

“Okay, Zach. I just wanted to get a feel for your plans.”

“Am I allowed to wrestle off for 171?”

“Of course. Everybody chooses their own weight class. I just hope you’ll be flexible depending on what happens. Okay?”

“I’d rather lose the wrestle off for 171 than wrestle another weight class.” Crisfield stared momentarily without saying another word.

After showering Zach checked his weight and saw that he was down to 177 pounds. Reaching 171 would still be a challenge but he was well on his way. He clenched his fist and mouthed “Yes!” as he walked away from the scale.

“Good news from Scalesville?” asked Tim Betterton.

“Yeah,” Zach said. “I’m only six pounds over.”

“Are you sure you’re doing the right thing, Zach? A lot of us are worried about it.”

“What do you mean?” Zach asked, although he knew full well what Betterton meant.

“You look good this year. Why do you want to be a second-stringer under Easton? You could win a lot of matches for us if you were a starter at another weight.”

“I’m going to be a starter. At 171.”

“You mean you’re going to beat Easton?”

“I will if I have to. But once he knows I’m coming, he’ll go to another weight class.”

Betterton’s eyes went wide. “You’re crazy. Mark Easton? That’s who we’re talking about, right?”

“You’ll see.”

A few minutes later Betterton caught up to Zach as he was walking outside. “Hey Zach, do you want a ride home?”

“Thanks Tim, I’ll just walk,” Zach said. He didn’t need any of his teammates knowing that his house wasn’t much bigger than the sheds that stood in their backyards.

“Alright, then, see you tomorrow,” Betterton said before walking toward the parking lot. After he was gone Zach turned and walked back inside the school. He’d had an idea while hearing the team’s footsteps reverberating in the gym while they ran. It was the perfect place to practice singing. It would be like his personal echo chamber.

On the way back inside he looked around to see if there were any other stragglers. Except for a custodian pushing a broom up the hall there was nobody around. After a quick check of the locker room to make sure everybody had left, he walked into the gym. It was somewhat dark, but the emergency lights that burned in the corners would be enough. From a pocket in his gym bag he pulled a folded sheet of paper. He studied the lyrics on the page for a minute before placing his headphones over his ears, with the volume turned low. Eventually he would practice the songs unaccompanied, or while playing his bass, but for the first run-through he always sang to the recording.

When he was done he felt a lot better about it. It was hard to know how he’d really sounded but it seemed much more natural than he’d expected. For the first time he thought that this was something he could do.

Feeling more confident, he removed the headphones and prepared to sing again. Before he had a chance to start he heard a cough. He squinted into the dimly lit bleachers, where the cough had seemed to come from. “Hello?” he called out. “Anybody there?”

He heard footsteps. Zach looked where the sound was coming from and saw a shadowy figure step out of the bleachers and towards the door. More out of curiosity than anything else, Zach put everything down and made his way to the hallway through another door, the one that was closest to him. When he reached the hallway he saw a girl hurrying to the exit. She stopped after turning to see Zach. Her face reddened and she smiled awkwardly.

“Sorry,” she said. “I was embarrassed.”

“You’re embarrassed?” Zach asked. “Were you in there the whole time?” He’d seen her around for years, all the way back through middle school. He was pretty sure she was a junior, same as him. It was no surprise that she was a basketball player. He was over six feet tall and she wasn’t much shorter. Her brown hair was pulled back into a pony tail the way most of the girls wore it for practice. She was wearing baggy sweat pants and a Chapel Forge Varsity jacket, and held a pile of clothes under her arm.

“Yeah. I was already in there when you came in. Somebody closed up the locker room and I needed to change so I went in there.”

He thought of the mat burn under his right eye and hoped it wasn’t bleeding. “Boy, I feel like an idiot. See, I’m in a band, and I’m supposed to learn these new songs, and I wanted to practice where nobody could hear me.”

“Oops,” she said.

“You’re on the basketball team, right? I see you around all the time.”

“Yeah. But I don’t remember seeing you. Are you on a team?”

“I’m on the wrestling team. I had really long hair until a couple weeks ago so you might not recognize me. My name’s Zach.”

“I’m Beth Ellicott. What kind of band? Are you the singer?”

“We play rock mostly. I sing and play bass.”

“That’s cool.”

They stood in the lobby, neither knowing what to say next. Beth finally ended the awkward silence. “Well, I’ve got to get home. I hope I’ll see you around.”

“I’m leaving too,” Zach said. He followed her to the door and then outside. Snow had been predicted and by the looks of things outside the storm was just getting underway. Before long everything would be white, and the roads slick.

“Do you have a car here?” Beth asked.

“No,” Zach said. “I don’t live too far away. I usually walk.”

“Do you want a ride?”

“Well, yeah. Are you sure?”

“Of course.”

“Oh yeah, I left my stuff inside,” Zach said. Before she could answer he bolted back inside and retrieved the gym bag and lyrics sheet. When he returned she was standing in the same spot waiting for him. Once they were in the car he directed her to a corner that was about a block away from his house. It looked no nicer than his street but he just didn’t want to take her all the way there. “You can just let me out here,” he said, hoping she wouldn’t probe.

“That was easy. No wonder you walk to school. See you around, Zach?”

“Yup. Thanks again.” He slid out of the car, closed the door and watched her drive off. She fishtailed away from the curb but after that she seemed not to have any difficulty. After her Chevy Impala was out of sight he turned and walked towards the house. He was glad he had met Beth even though he wasn’t sure why.

Chapter 6

The band had a Friday night job at a middle school dance in Marlton the night before the wrestling team’s first scrimmage. For Zach that meant he’d be doing some important wrestling on just a few hours sleep unless he could find a way to get home early.

“Toby, how about if we drive separately from Joe and Bo?” he asked Dumphries as they rode over to Fauquier’s place. “Then you could drop me home after we’re done.”

“You know what Joe will say,” Dumphries said. “He wants us all in his van.”

“Why? What’s the difference? Look, I have a good reason this time. I need to get home.”

“Then you ask him.”

Zach didn’t. He’d irritated Fauquier enough recently and didn’t want to push it. Instead, he resigned himself to another late night followed by some early morning wrestling.

“Let’s try out the two new ones right after we set up,” Fauquier said on the way over. “If it isn’t a total disaster we’ll add them to the set list.”

“I don’t know, Joe,” Zach said. “That’ll be our first time doing them. Are you sure it’s a good idea?”

“You’ll be fine. It’s our first chance to show that we can go a different direction. I’m pretty excited about it.”

Herndon nearly choked on the bottle of water he was drinking as he laughed and coughed at the same time. “Where do you get this rap?” he asked Fauquier. “Nobody cares what direction we’re going in.”

Zach tuned it all out, knowing he’d heard it all before. Despite having sung the new songs dozens of times alone he didn’t feel confident about them. It didn’t help matters when he noticed Jeanine come in from a side door while they were setting up.

“Hey Joe!” hissed Herndon after everything was in place and they were tuning their instruments. “Check out that old bird by the door.” They all looked over to see a middle-aged woman arranging items on a long table. “I’ve got this feeling that we would make her night if we gave her a dose of ‘Fire House.’ What do you say?”

“I don’t think so, Bo,” Fauquier laughed. “I get a different vibe off of her.”

Herndon spun the volume knob on his amplifier and launched into the band’s ritual warm-up song anyway. Rules were rules, even if they were unwritten and unspoken. Once he started the others joined in. Instantly the woman at the door clapped her hands over her ears. Herndon burst into laughter as they watched her mouth some angry but inaudible words in their direction. Fauquier turned his back on her and shook his head at Herndon, trying not to laugh. Herndon looked away but managed to wipe the smile off his face. Thankfully, the woman was nowhere to be found when the song ended.

“Let’s try one of the new ones,” Fauquier said after it was over. “Which one do you want to do first?”

“‘Shandi,’ I guess,” Zach said, his stomach immediately tying itself up in knots.

“Yeah, that’s better,” said Herndon. “I don’t have my keyboards hooked up yet.”

“Okay,” Fauquier said. “But we’re doing the other one next so you better get it set up.”

“Yes sir,” Herndon said, while raising his middle finger at Fauquier at the same time. “Right away, sir.”

“Just wait until after the song,” Fauquier said.

Without another word Herndon grabbed his guitar by the neck and shifted it into position. After looking back to make sure Dumphries was ready at the drums, he started the song off with the riff he’d learned after hearing the song only once. Since they’d never played it together before there were a few unexpected pauses and gaps, but they synchronized themselves by the time Zach was ready to sing.

“Nice job, Zach,” Dumphries said when it was over. “I think we sounded pretty good once we had the timing down.”

“Thanks,” Zach said. “That one’s not as hard. It’s still rock even though it’s about a girl,” he said, grinning over at Herndon. “The Aerosmith one’s harder.”

“Even Aerosmith hates it,” Herndon said as he gathered cables and connected his keyboards to his amplifier. “I don’t want to miss a thing!” he sang in falsetto, with a sickly smile on his face.

“Yeah, right,” Fauquier said. “That song got them exposed to a whole different set of fans. They hate it all the way to the bank.”

By then there were more people coming in to the cafeteria. Most looked to be about middle school age. They were setting up for the dance and appeared to be oblivious to the band that was rehearsing on stage. Even so, Zach felt more and more nervous as he watched them. “If we’re trying the other one, let’s do it now. If too many people hear it we might get canceled.”

“You’ll be fine,” Dumphries said.

“I’m ready,” Herndon said. “Sorry if I screw up the piano part. It’s been a while since I played with both hands.”

If Zach wasn’t nervous enough, Jeanine reappeared just as they were about to start. Hopefully, he thought, she’ll still like the song after hearing him sing it. He took a deep breath and tried to remember the words. Jeanine hopped off the stage and moved over to where she was standing directly in front of Zach. She couldn’t make me any more nervous if she tried, Zach thought.

Once he started singing he felt much better about it. He fought the urge to pull back from the song. When Fauquier edged over to the PA head to add some reverb to his voice Zach nodded approvingly without missing a word. Jeanine leaned on the front of the stage and stared at Zach as he sang the romantic lyrics, making him feel uncomfortable. Aside from that, he and the rest of the band felt good about it. They considered both songs passable and played them both during the dance.

When the dance was over most of the middle-schoolers disappeared almost immediately. Two teenaged girls approached the stage, giggling more and more the closer they came. Fauquier brightened up when he saw them. “Good evening ladies,” he said when they climbed onstage.

“Hi,” one of them said. “We’re supposed to give you this,” she said, handing him a plain white envelope.

“Oh,” he said flatly. “Thanks.”

The girls looked towards the back of the stage where Zach was. When they saw him they giggled again. One began walking toward him but the other grabbed her arm and dragged her back to the front of the stage. Without looking back they jumped down and disappeared into a hallway.

“You did good tonight, Zach,” Fauquier said. “You sounded good. If only you didn’t look like Joe Jockstrap, we’d be in business.”

“There were a few times when I felt like I wasn’t hitting the note. With our usual stuff it doesn’t matter but if I’m flat on this new stuff it really shows.”

“I didn’t notice anything.”

“It isn’t something I hear. I just feel it. Now that we’re putting the speaker cabinets up front I can’t really hear what I sing at all.”

“That’s why I’ve been talking about buying some monitors,” Fauquier said. “That’s what the pros do. We can’t hear what the crowd is hearing unless we have some speakers facing back towards us. We can’t skimp, man, or it’ll show.”

It was less than an hour before all the equipment was packed and loaded into the van. They all climbed in to their usual seats. The first thing Fauquier did was to get everybody to agree to go look at some used monitors the next afternoon. After that, it was time for play. “Where’s the party?” Dumphries asked, lighting one cigarette off of another before handing one to Fauquier.

“I don’t know about anything going on tonight,” Fauquier said. He stuck the cigarette in his mouth and sucked in enough smoke to fill his lungs. “Let’s just go back to my place. Maybe there’s somebody there.”

It turned out there wasn’t. That was bad news for everybody else but good for Zach. When Dumphries dropped him off back home it was only eleven-thirty. There was still plenty of time to get a good night’s sleep. That was a lucky break. Maybe there was a chance to make a good showing at the scrimmage after all, he thought.

~~~

“Zach, don’t you have to be at the school? It’s almost nine.”

He heard the voice and knew it was his mother, but still couldn’t figure out what day it was or what she was talking about. Then it hit him. The scrimmage. He had to be at the school at nine or he’d miss the bus.

“Were you out late?” she asked as he threw off the covers. His eyes darted around the room in search of some acceptable clothes.

“No,” he said hurriedly. “I was in bed early. I don’t know what happened.” It didn’t look like she was in any hurry to leave the room. It felt odd to change with her there but he was running out of time, so he stripped down to his underwear and pulled on the pair of jeans he picked up from the floor. He decided the shirt he’d slept in was good enough, so all he needed was some shoes.

“Why don’t I give you a ride?” she asked. “Do you have everything you need?”

“Could you?” he asked, leaning over to hug her. “I don’t think I could make it otherwise. Everything I need is in my bag.”

“Okay, then let’s go,” she said as she hurried out of the room. “I’ll grab my keys.”

When they lurched into the high school parking lot the bus was at the curb. There was nobody to be seen except for Coach Crisfield and one other wrestler on the sidewalk. Zach assumed that everybody else was already on the bus. “Thanks, Mom!” he said as he threw the door open and scrambled out. He had forgotten to put a coat on and the cold winter bit into his exposed skin as he sprinted toward the bus. Crisfield looked at Zach quizzically and then followed him on board. Moments later the door closed and the team pulled away.

“Another late night with illegal substances?” asked somebody in the front row as Zach turned to walk down the center aisle. He looked and saw that it had come from Richie Thurmont, the team’s likely 130-pound starter. It was the first time Zach could ever remember Thurmont saying a word to him. He ignored it the way he always did. After he had passed Thurmont he saw Mark Easton and Kevin Salisbury snickering together in a seat to the left.

He continued towards the back of the bus and plopped into the first empty seat he came to. That was close, he thought. I almost missed it. He reached into his gym bag and pulled out a sweatshirt, the one with the faded Jimi Hendrix picture on the back. After he put it on he looked around and saw Tim Betterton watching from two rows back on the other side of the aisle.

“Hey, man,” Zach called over.

“I was worried there,” Betterton said. “It looked like we were leaving without you.”

“Most of these guys couldn’t care less whether I got here or not.”

Betterton came over to Zach’s seat and slid in. “Look, Zach, don’t let it get you down. There are only a few kids that you need to worry about.”

“Doesn’t matter to me what they think.”

“Well, okay. All I’m saying is that you shouldn’t go by a few wisecracks here and there. Most of us are glad to have you. You belong. Coach already used you as an example to some of the freshman, trying to get them to work harder.”

“Really?” Zach asked, genuinely surprised.

“I heard this team has a blind guy in your weight class. Have you ever wrestled a blind guy?”

“No.”

“Here’s my idea,” Pete Denton said from the seat behind Zach. “After it starts just take off your headgear and throw it to the side. He’ll hear it and think you’re over there. Then just jump on him from the other direction.”

“Right, Pete, right,” Betterton said. “What a knucklehead.” Then he turned back to Zach. “It’s not that different, except for takedowns,” Betterton. “I think you have to start out holding each other’s hands, or arms, or something.”

“Who are we going against anyway?”

“Sea Crest,” Betterton said. “It’s down by Atlantic City. They said there might be another team coming, too.”

Zach was nervous as the teams all crowded into the Sea Crest wrestling room for the scrimmage. As Betterton had thought, there was a third team, Ventnor. While the teams were doing warmup exercises and stretches the three coaching staffs huddled in the corner with their clipboards. Coach Crisfield told his wrestlers a few minutes later that each wrestler from each team would wrestle once against somebody from each of the other two teams. In order to get as many matches in as possible, six matches would be going on at the same time. It wouldn’t look much different from a regular practice except that wrestlers from different schools would be competing against each other.

It turned out that Betterton hadn’t gotten the story quite right. Sea Crest didn’t have a blind wrestler but they did have a double amputee named Hank Orlando. A few minutes later Easton approached Zach with some news. “You’re wrestling Orlando in the first match. He’s a senior but he missed last season.” Easton said. “He’s too heavy for me, so you’re getting him.” It bothered Zach that Easton looked so pleased that it was going to be Zach who drew Orlando.

Just as Easton had said, Zach was paired off with Orlando when his turn came up. The amputation had been below the knee on both legs. Except for the obvious lack of height, Orlando was huge. That makes sense, Zach thought. If he’s my weight even with half his legs gone, he’s basically a heavyweight.

Since the first period would be wrestled from neutral position, Orlando began on his knees. Zach wondered if he could simply run around Orlando and tackle him from behind, but resisted the urge. That would look tacky if it worked and disastrous if it didn’t. All he wanted to do was finish this match without drawing any attention to himself. Taking a shot at Orlando’s legs seemed like a bad idea too, so he simply tied up and held on tight, hoping that time would run out without incident.

Orlando had other ideas. After a minute he dropped from the tie up and grabbed one of Zach’s legs. Luckily for Zach he was unable to gain the leverage needed to take him to the mat. The period ended with Orlando clutching Zach’s leg but getting nowhere with it.

Zach chose the bottom position for the second period. Still uncomfortable, he again planned to run as much time off the clock before he actually had to do anything. After controlling Orlando’s wrist for half a minute Zach sat out and turned back toward his opponent. He knew he could escape but the last thing he wanted was a return to the neutral position. Rather than work below the waist he reached and under hooked Orlando, and flipped him over. He allowed Orlando to roll through and off his back rather than going for the pin because the coaches had announced that if there was a pin the remainder of the match would be wrestled in neutral position. The assistant coach who was refereeing the match awarded Zach a two-point reversal. For the rest of the period Zach switched between half nelsons and cradle attempts, trying to look busy.

The final period was similar to the last part of the second period. In complete control, Zach switched between various holds, just enough to avoid a stalling call but not enough to generate any points. By the end of the match he was breathing heavily and tiring fast but he hung on for a 2-0 victory. He was thankful to be out of the limelight after shaking Orlando’s hand.

The second match was less awkward for Zach. He was matched against a short, muscular wrestler from Ventnor. Zach took him down with his fireman’s carry almost immediately, and proceeded to turn him over and pin him. That pattern repeated itself for the next six minutes. After that match was over and Zach’s arm was raised in victory, he had something to feel good about on the bus ride home.

Chapter 7

When the bus arrived back at the high school Zach waited until everybody else had gotten off before he did. He was in no hurry because he had two hours to kill because he’d agreed to meet the rest of the band at three o’clock to check out those used stage monitors. Even though it was tempting because he was tired and sore, it would be a bad idea to miss that shopping trip.

“Zach?” said a female voice as Zach trudged down the hall past the gym to stow some of his gear in his locker. “Hey, remember me?” she asked.

He turned and saw Beth Ellicott, the basketball player that had caught him singing in the gym. She was coming out of the locker room, most likely after having a Saturday morning practice. “Hey,” he said.

“How’s it going?” she asked. “I haven’t seen you around much.”

“Just wrestling, I guess.”

“Not singing in the gym? I told all my friends about that. They all thought it was so cute.”

“I did those songs live last night.”

“Live?”

“We played a gig.”

“Really? Where?”

“Some middle school. It was a dance.”

“That must be exciting, being up on stage like that.”

“Sometimes. I like an older audience better. These kids last night really didn’t have a clue.”

“I’d like to see your band sometime.”

“We never turn anybody away,” he replied, smiling.

“Did you already have wrestling?”

“We had a scrimmage at Sea Crest,” he told her. “We just got back now.”

“I didn’t know they had scrimmages in wrestling.”

“It’s not a big deal. It’s just a chance to wrestle somebody different.”

“How’d you do?”

“I did great in my second match. In the first match I had to wrestle a guy with half-legs. They went just past his knees. It was a no-win situation. Know what I mean? I just did enough to get by.”

“Half-legs? And he wrestles?”

“Yeah. He wasn’t bad, either. It must take a lot of guts to do that.”

“I’ve seen some matches but I never saw anything like that.”

“Well, it comes up more in a practice or scrimmage,” he explained. “No matter how good you are it’s pretty hard to be a starter with a disadvantage like that. So you don’t see it so much in real matches.”

“Yeah, I bet,” she said as she zipped her coat. “Well, I’m off to the mall. I need to pick up some books I ordered.”

“At least you have some place to go. I have to wait around for the band guys to pick me up. Maybe I’ll go for a run,” he said, but he knew he wouldn’t.

“The band guys? They’re coming here?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“It just seems funny, guys like that being at a gym.”

“They’re not as different as you think. Bo was all-state in cross-country. He graduated from Lincoln last year.”

“How long before they get here?” Beth asked.

“A couple hours, I guess.”

“Do you want to come with me? I promise I’ll get you back in time.”

He tried not to show how surprised he was but couldn’t suppress a grin. “Hmm,” he said. “I guess it would be okay. Are you sure it’s cool for you?”

“Of course. But we better go now.”

~~~

“Coach, can I talk to you for a minute?” Mark Easton asked after he caught up to Coach Crisfield, who was walking to his car.

“Sure, Mark,” Crisfield said. He stopped and leaned backwards on the pickup truck that he happened to be in front of. “The scrimmage went well, don’t you think? What’s up?”

“Well,” Easton began. “I’ve been thinking about what we talked about last year. You know, about what weight would be best for me.”

“I thought we settled on 171.”

“Yeah, we did,” agreed Easton. “But I’ve been thinking about it lately. What would you think about me trying to get to 160?”

“What brought this on?”

“It’s my senior year. When it’s all over I don’t want to have to wonder if I did enough.”

“Don’t you remember how weak you felt two years ago when you cut too much?”

“I remember. I tried to cut it all at once.”

“Mark, the season starts in ten days,” Crisfield reminded him. “To get to 160 you’d have to cut it all at once this time too.”

“I think I could do it.”

“What’s bothering you, Mark?”

“Nothing. Maybe you’re right. Let’s just forget it.” He turned and walked away before Coach Crisfield had a chance to say anything else.

~~~

Zach and Beth picked up their bags, each crammed with athletic gear, and walked outside. Zach followed Beth to her Impala. “Isn’t that your coach over there?” she asked, pointing to a man leaning against a truck a few rows away.

Zach squinted in that direction before answering. “It is,” he said. “Easton’s there too.”

The ten-minute ride to the mall was mostly quiet except for a quick discussion of the Chapel Forge basketball teams. After they were parked they walked side-by-side to a set of glass doors. At the last minute Zach shot ahead in time to open one of them for her. Unfortunately, the one he’d chosen was locked. “Thanks anyway,” she giggled as she opened the adjacent one and gestured for Zach to go through first.

“The bookstore’s down by Macy’s,” Beth said. “These books are for my big sister.” They turned a corner and continued walking in that direction until they passed a gag gift shop. “I love this store!” she said. “Let’s go in, okay?” Without waiting for an answer she cut behind him and into the store. He worried about the time but entered the store anyway.

Beth spent a few minutes perusing shelves full of practical joke props. Zach stayed with her for a moment but gravitated towards the lava lamps and rock band posters that were in the back. After flipping through most of them he walked back towards Beth, who was over in the corner of the store. She turned in time to see him coming. Just before he reached her she ducked behind the shelf. When she stood back up she was wearing a pair of gag glasses with the eyeballs dangling from springs. “There you are,” she said. “I’ve been looking all over!”

Zach laughed. “You’re only looking down.”

“I guess we better go get those books,” Beth said as she removed the glasses and put them back on the shelf. “You’ve got to meet your friends back at school.” They left the shop and continued on to the bookstore. It only took a few minutes to flag down a clerk and pay for the books.

“I’m hungry,” Beth said as they walked out of the bookstore. “Should we go to the food court?”

“Okay,” Zach said. “I can’t eat anything, though. I’m still trying to get down to 171.”

“Yuck,” she said, making a face. “I can eat later, then.”

“No, really, it’s okay. I watch people eat all the time.”

“Oh boy,” Beth remarked when they reached the food court. “It’s crowded.”

“I’ll look for a table,” Zach suggested. “Just go get your food and then come find me.”

“Okay,” Beth agreed. “You don’t want anything at all?”

“No, I’m fine. I’ll get us a table.”

As he searched for an empty table the sight of people jamming food into their mouths made it hard for him to ignore his hunger. He tried not to stare at the man in the sleeveless denim jacket and Flyers cap who was shoveling fried rice into his mouth as fast as he could load his fork. Oh well, he thought. I’m only a few pounds away. It’ll all be worth it.

A few minutes later Beth weaved through strollers and shopping bags until she found Zach. “I got you a bottle of water. Is that okay?”

“Perfect.” He wasn’t sure if he was referring to the water or the two steaming slices of pizza on her tray.

“I really feel bad eating in front of you,” Beth said between bites. “How much do you have to lose?”

“I weighed out at 174 last night so I’m just about there. Over the summer I was almost 190.”

“I don’t know how you do it. When I come home from practice every night I’m beat, but once I eat dinner everything’s better. I guess you can’t do that, right?”

“Everybody has to eat,” Zach said with a smile. “I just can’t eat too much. I definitely can’t eat stuff like that,” he said, pointing to the slice still resting on the plate.

“I don’t think I could do it.”

“If it was something you had to do to be good at your sport you’d do it.”

Three high school boys appeared abruptly at the table, ending the discussion. Zach recognized them as athletes from the school, although he wasn’t sure which guys played which sport. Each had short hair and a dark fuzz of sideburns and mustache on their faces. They wore earth-colored cargo pants with pockets running up and down the legs, and each had carefully left their white basketball sneakers open and untied.

“Hi, Richie,” Beth said. “Are you guys out Christmas shopping too?”

“Yeah,” answered one of them. “But first things first. We’re starting out with a little grub.” He patted his stomach as he said it. He was huge all over, Zach noticed, not just his gut. He was obviously a football player.

“This is Zach,” Beth said. “Zach, I’m not sure if you know these guys. It’s Richie, Ben and Jake.”

“Hey,” Zach said. “I’ve seen you around school.”

“You go to Chapel Forge?” the one named Ben said.

“He’s on the wrestling team, dodo,” Beth said.

“You are?” Ben asked. “Do you know Bob Lanham?”

“Of course,” Zach said. “He’s the heavyweight.”

“You look familiar,” Richie said. “Do you have a brother? There was this real hairy guy who always wore rock and roll shirts. He looked like you.”

“That probably was me. I just cut my hair a couple weeks ago.”

“Yeah?” Richie laughed. “You had the long hair and everything? I didn’t think you looked like a wrestler, with that tattoo and all,” he said, pointing at that the grim reaper on Zach’s wrist.

“I’ve got a few more,” Zach said. He stood up suddenly, knocking the small table away from him. Soda sloshed out of Beth’s cup and over the edge of the table. “Want to see them?” He yanked his flannel shirt over his head rather than taking the time to unbutton it. His t-shirt was stretched tight across his muscular chest. “Check this one out,” he said, flexing his right arm where a blue frog had been tattooed years earlier. “I have one on my back, too.”

“Take it easy,” Richie said, holding his hands up defensively. “It’s cool, we get it.”

“So anyway, are you two like, going out or something?” Ben asked.

“I wish,” Beth said quickly. Her face reddened immediately. “I mean, we’re just out shopping together.”

That reminded Zach that he was supposed to be back at the high school to meet the rest of the band. He glanced around, found a clock, and realized that if they didn’t leave immediately he wouldn’t make it. But Beth was only halfway done with her pizza, and he didn’t relish the idea of telling these guys why he had to leave. He knew he’d be in trouble with Fauquier but he decided on the spot not to worry about getting back. They didn’t need him anyway.

“You really jumped all over those guys,” Beth said after they drifted away. “What happened? All of a sudden you snapped.”

“Sorry,” Zach said. “I have no use for rich kids trying to be bad-asses.”

“You don’t really get along with anybody, do you?”

He knew she was right but didn’t reply. She took a big bite of pizza and looked up abruptly. “Did I make you miss your meeting?”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Sorry,” she said. “I lost track of things, I guess.”

“Not a big deal. They’ll be pissed but they’ll just go without me.”

“Sorry,” she said again, crinkling up her face.

“Really, it’s cool. I’d rather hang out with you.”

Chapter 8

“Hey Joe, pull into McDonald’s,” Herndon said. “Anybody else got the munchies?”

Fauquier cut across a lane of traffic and turned into the parking lot without a word. In fact, he hadn’t said much since they walked out of the secondhand store in Cherry Hill with their newly purchased set of stage monitors. He parked the van, then followed Herndon and Dumphries into the restaurant where they ordered some food.

“He’s the reason we bought the thing,” Fauquier finally said as he unwrapped his burger. “All of a sudden he couldn’t hear himself sing, so he had to have it. What, he’s too busy to bother showing up to help us pick it out?”

“Something must have happened,” Herndon said. “Maybe he had gambling debts. He might be wearing cement shoes, swimming with the fishes right now.”

Fauquier made a face of exasperation at Herndon, who shrugged his shoulders and smirked. “Or not.”

“He had a wrestling match this morning,” Dumphries said. “It must have gone late or something. It’s not like Zach to just blow us off like that.”

“What are you, his lawyer?” snapped Fauquier. “Whatever it was, it had to be over long before three o’clock.”

The three ate in silence as the look on Fauquier’s face continued to darken. Herndon and Dumphries stared at the table as they chewed their food, occasionally stealing a look at Fauquier.

“You know, guys,” Fauquier finally said. “We were going pretty good until Zach went overboard with this Joe Athlete business. We were just starting to make a name for ourselves. People were starting to see that we’re not just another band.”

“I don’t know, Joe,” Dumphries said. “Face facts. We are just another band.”

“No way. We’ve got something. I can do stuff with my guitar that nobody else around here can. And Zach has that voice. People are starting to notice us.”

“Well, if that’s how you feel you have nothing to worry about,” Herndon said. “Zach didn’t quit. He didn’t even miss a practice. He just missed a field trip, that’s all.” A smile crossed his face. “I’m more worried about those things you said you do with your guitar that nobody else does. Now that’s scary.” He looked over at Dumphries who was snickering hard enough to cough up a french fry.

“He’s good, but he’s just not into it anymore,” Fauquier said. “If he doesn’t care, nothing else matters.”

“Don’t you think you’re getting carried away, Joe?” Dumphries asked. “Like Bo said, all he missed was a shopping trip.”

Fauquier pulled the plastic lid off his cup of soda and tilted his head back to drink what was left. “I met a singer at work about a month ago,” he said after the cup was empty.

“A fellow sheetrocker?” asked Herndon.

“He’s a laborer but the foreman has him following us through the townhouses prepping for carpeting. He’s pretty good. We sing a lot while we work. The acoustics are awesome once the walls are up,” Fauquier said, smiling for the first time in hours.

What are you saying, Joe?” Dumphries asked. “Are you thinking about kicking Zach out of the band? You just got done telling us how great he is.”

“How great he was,” Fauquier corrected. “He’s not giving us what we need anymore.”

“You can’t be serious,” Herndon said. “That’s like starting over.”

“I’m not saying we should do it yet,” Fauquier said. “It’s just something to think about.”

“Does your new guy play bass too?” Dumphries asked. “We’d also be losing our bass player.”

“He’s okay on guitar,” Fauquier said. “He says he could get up to speed on bass pretty quick.”

“You mean you already talked to this guy about it?” Herndon asked. “Without asking us first?”

“Cool it, Bo,” Fauquier said. “I didn’t invite him to replace Zach. I just told him about our problems. He has a good imagination.”

“If he’s already talking about learning to play the bass, it sounds like you went a lot further than that,” said Dumphries.

“He’s pretty anxious to get in,” Fauquier allowed. “I can’t deny that. And I tell you what, he’d be in it a thousand percent. Not like wrestler-boy. This guy has no life. We’d be everything to him.”

“I have to take a leak,” Dumphries said, pushing away from the table and stalking away.

“It’s just talk, Bo,” Fauquier said after Dumphries was gone. “You guys shouldn’t be freaking out like this. At least I’m thinking about how to fix our problems.”

~~~

Wednesday was the day that Zach had been thinking about for quite some time, ever since he had signed up for wrestle-offs in the 171-pound weight class. The winners of the wrestle-offs would wrestle in the first match of the season on Saturday. So far nobody had come right out and told him he was crazy for challenging the team captain. They didn’t have to. It had been clear since the day that he printed his name on the sign-up chart right below Mark Easton’s that nobody liked his chances.

Despite what people were thinking, Zach felt confident about winning. He remembered what nobody else did, that he had held his own against Easton the previous season until his stamina gave out. With his newly developed strength and conditioning he thought he had a pretty good chance. Easton hadn’t been his cocky, belligerent self as of late. Zach knew he was worried.

“One-seventy-three and a half,” said team manager Lee Towson after adjusting the scale until it hit equilibrium. He searched the sheet on his clipboard until he found the proper column, in which he made a notation.

“What did Easton weigh in at?” Zach asked.

“Um,” Towson said, looking as if he was unsure what to do. “He must not have weighed in yet.”

“Sure he did. I watched him do it. Come on, what did you write down for him?”

Towson shrugged. “I guess I’m allowed to tell you. He was one-sixty-seven on the nose.”

“No kidding. That’s pretty much what I expected.”

“He’s way under weight.”

“No he isn’t. He’s way over weight. He’s going 160.”

“That’s not what it says here.”

“Not yet. You’ll see,” Zach said as he walked away.

After calisthenics Coach Crisfield had a few words to say about the important proceedings that were about to begin. “Men, you know my rules,” he began. “The room is to be absolutely silent during all wrestle-offs. If I hear anybody cheering, coaching or encouraging, that person will be thrown out on his ear. Understood?”

“Welcome to the Fire House, baby!” yelled the likely 215-pound starter, George Prince. When Crisfield glared in his direction the smile quickly disappeared from his face. A nodding of heads and a murmur across the room signaled that everybody understood, so Crisfield continued. “If you own a weight class, the challenger has to beat you two times out of three. Since this is the first go-round, they’re all two out of three. We have today, Thursday, and Friday if we need it.”

There would be two wrestle-offs going on at a time, he explained. He would referee one and Assistant Coach Thad Hancock would referee the other. “Everybody else, you know the drill,” Crisfield said. “Spread out along the edge, make sure the wrestlers don’t crash into a wall and crack their skulls. After we’re done with wrestle-offs we’ll have a regular practice.”

Most of the wrestle-offs were predictable affairs, usually with upper-classmen easily fending off their challengers. Many ended with pins or lopsided scores. Zach watched from the corner while stretching his hamstrings. He saw Easton on the other side of the room, surrounded by some of the returning starters who had won or were about to win easy wrestle-offs. Each time one came off the mat the others clapped him on the back or exchanged high-fives.

When Coach Crisfield solemnly called Zach and Easton onto the mat when the time finally came for them to wrestle, a path opened and Easton emerged from the pack of veterans who patted him on the back and shoulders as he passed. Zach stepped carefully through a group of disinterested JV wrestlers who’d gravitated to the corner almost by accident. Just before he reached open space he stumbled over somebody’s foot. He looked back angrily but the foot had been withdrawn. He pulled his headgear into place and snapped the chinstrap before reaching the coach.

Crisfield clearly knew this was the match that everybody had been waiting for. “Remember,” he warned everybody in the room, “There will be no cheering. Everybody’s mouth should be closed except mine and Coach Hancock’s.” Instead of refereeing a simultaneous wrestle-off across the room, Coach Hancock had come over to serve as timekeeper for this one. After the two combatants converged Crisfield told them to shake hands. Easton had a smile on his face but Zach was looking past him. “Round two is tomorrow, gentlemen. Don’t forget,” Crisfield said. “Best two out of three.”

For the first few seconds after Crisfield blew the whistle neither wrestler moved. Then Easton began circling to his right, hands in front but keeping his distance. Zach knew Easton was trying to set him up for something but he was unsure what it was. He circled in the same direction as though he was being chased. Suddenly Easton reversed direction and pounced on Zach’s exposed leg. Within seconds he’d stood up with the leg. Zach tried to hop towards the heating unit on the side of the mat, looking for a new start, but Easton was too crafty to let that happen. He skillfully turned Zach back towards the center and then tripped the other leg. When Zach went down to the mat and turned away Easton was awarded two points for the takedown.

Zach took Easton’s wrist and tried several times to stand up. Each time Easton chopped him back down and covered. Zach kept moving, knowing that would make it harder for Easton to break him down and turn him onto his back. He again took the wrist and turned in, fishing for a Peterson roll. It wasn’t there because Easton obviously knew what Zach was thinking, but Zach was able to create enough space to back out and escape for a point. The period ended with Easton ahead by a score of 2-1.

Easton won the coin flip and chose the bottom position for the second period. Zach had always had difficulty riding Easton. He decided not to risk being reversed for two points. If he got into danger he’d release him, surrendering only one point, and take his chances on his feet.

It wasn’t long before that happened. Easton beat Zach on the whistle and nearly rolled him. After the situation stabilized Zach let him go. Easton crawled away to create a buffer zone rather than turning dangerously to face Zach at close range. Instead of allowing Easton to retreat Zach followed, shoving him viciously onto his stomach and then falling onto Easton’s back. It was a dirty but legal tactic. It didn’t result in any points for Zach but he was glad he’d done it because he knew it would confuse and upset Easton. Pleased with himself, he let Easton go again, and advanced quickly to try another shove. This time Easton was ready, at least enough to turn quickly and spring to his feet. As the two moved back to the center and squared off Zach heard a few catcalls from some of the wrestlers who didn’t approve of his mat decorum.

Without giving Easton a chance to calm down Zach grabbed Easton at the elbow and put Easton in a headlock with his other hand. After he felt the hold was tight enough he turned and pulled Easton over his leg and onto his back. Easton tried to roll through, and then to arch off his back, but Zach wouldn’t give him any room. After he lifted Easton’s head off the mat he could see clearly that both shoulder blades were on the mat. It was as though Coach Crisfield couldn’t bring himself to call the pin. Zach smiled his creepiest smile as he looked directly into Easton’s flushed, sweaty face. Finally, after Easton had been immobilized and flat on his back for nearly thirty seconds, Crisfield blew the whistle softly and patted the mat gently to signal that the match was over. The room was silent as a tomb.

~~~

Kevin Salisbury waited outside the locker room for his best friend. He hadn’t yet had a chance to talk with Easton and was worried about how his spirits were holding up. “Hey Buddy,” he said when Easton emerged. “Don’t even worry, this is just a speed bump for you.”

Easton looked Salisbury in the eye momentarily but said nothing. The two friends hoisted gym bags, zipped their coats and donned knit hats as they walked down the hall towards the door. “I’m in trouble, Kevin,” Easton finally said when they were outside. It had started to snow. “I don’t know if I can beat him anymore.”

Salisbury was about to answer but just then a rusty sedan pulled up to the curb right in front of them. The wrestlers altered their path, cutting in front of the car after it had stopped moving. Easton seemed unconcerned but Salisbury stared into the car at the woman behind the wheel.

“Sure you can,” he said a minute later as they walked through the parking lot. “You’ve been beating him for years.”

“It’s different now,” Easton said. “Back then I just had to wait until he ran out of breath and turned into a rag doll. Now he’s in better shape than I am. He doesn’t get tired and he’s strong as a friggin’ ox.”

Salisbury remembered how his friend had derisively dismissed Zach Bowie a few weeks earlier but wisely didn’t bring it up. “You’re still better, Mark,” Salisbury said. “Just chill out, okay? He just surprised you today. Heck, I’m glad he’s on the team. He’ll help a lot at another weight class. You’ll win tomorrow and Friday, and then you can forget all this happened.”

~~~

Jeanine carefully watched the teenager who was looking through the windshield at her. When she realized it wasn’t Zach she looked away, worried that she might have missed him. Finally, she spotted him walking directly in front of the car.

“Zach!” Jeanine called out as Zach walked past the car. “Zach, it’s me. Jeanine.”

Zach stopped and squinted into the headlights. “Jeanine! What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Get in. I’ll give you a ride home.”

Seeing no reason not to, he walked to the passenger side of the car and slid in. “I didn’t know I had a chauffeur.”

“Look, I thought you should know about something. What happened to your face?”

“It’s just from wrestling. I always get a few burns here and there.”

“The guys are talking about kicking you out of the band. They were pretty mad about you not showing up the other day.”

“Kicking me out? Just for that?”

“Well, not just that. They think you don’t care enough anymore and it’s starting to show.”

“You don’t really mean ‘they,’ do you? You’re talking about Joe, right?”

“Yeah, mostly. But what Joe says usually goes, right?”

“They won’t do it. Joe’s up to something, that’s all.”

“He’s already got your replacement lined up. Some guy from work.”

“Whatever. They can do whatever they want. I’ll be okay either way. There are plenty of other bands.”

“You’re not fooling anybody. Don’t let it happen, Zach.”

“Thanks for the ride,” Zach said cheerfully when they reached his house. “And Jeanine? Don’t worry too much about what Joe says. I never do.”

Chapter 9

Mark Easton knocked on the metal door and waited for it to open. Practice was only twenty minutes away so he presumed that Coach Crisfield was in his office although he hadn’t seen him go in. When the door opened a torrent of words spilled from Easton’s mouth. “Coach, can I talk to you for a second? I was thinking about what we talked about and I want to go 160. I don’t think I should stay at 171. It’s too heavy for me.”

“Come on in, Mark,” Crisfield said, backing away from the door. Easton entered and collapsed into a plastic folding chair near the scarred wooden desk that Crisfield moved behind. “You have to wrestle-off again today. Why all the sweat gear?” He obviously hadn’t heard what Easton said.

“Remember when I was talking about 160 last week?” Easton said again. “I think I want to do that. I want to wrestle 160 this year.”

Crisfield put down the stack of papers he was holding and watched Easton over the top of his reading glasses without saying anything. Looking uncomfortable, Easton tried to fill the void with more words. “I just think 171 is too heavy for me. I really haven’t grown since last year. I’ll do a lot better against 160-pounders.”

“Why did you wrestle off for 171 yesterday? When did you change your mind? After you lost?”

“Coach, I talked to you about this already. Before the wrestle-off. Bowie just caught me yesterday. That’s what everybody thinks.”

“What about today’s wrestle-off? You want to skip it completely?”

“Don’t I have to wrestle off for 160 if I want to switch?”

“You can’t. Not this week,” Crisfield said as pulled his glasses off. “You didn’t sign up. I’ve already got three guys wrestling off for that spot. They’ll be going at it all three days.”

“But next week I can challenge whoever wins, right?”

“What about this week? The only way you can wrestle Saturday is if you beat Bowie. Two in a row,” he added.

“I’ll just skip it. I can work on dropping the weight for 160.”

“It’s not going to look good,” Crisfield warned. “You dropping out like this, after he beat you. If you want my opinion, that’s not the way a captain leads his team.”

Easton’s mouth dropped open. He stared at the floor while picking at a small hole that had worn in the knee of his blue sweats.

“You might be right,” Crisfield said. “Even though you got a late start you won’t have any problem getting to 160, and you’ll be better there. I just don’t like the way you’re going about it.” He started to say something else but apparently thought better of it.

“It doesn’t have anything to do with the wrestle-off yesterday.”

“So you’re officially dropping out at 171, right? You don’t even want to wrestle-off today and tomorrow? And you know you’ll sit on Saturday, right?”

“I know.”

“I think you should wrestle-off for 171 anyway,” Coach said. “Finish what you start. But if you’d rather not, it’s your decision.”

~~~

The locker room was filling up quickly by the time Zach got there for practice after school on Thursday. He worked his way to his locker with his head down the way he always did. The wrestlers who bothered to notice him at all looked away with no discernible reaction.

Except for one. “Zach, what’s up?” asked Tim Betterton, who had sidled up while Zach was pulling his shirt over his head.

“Tim,” Zach said. “Not much.” He thought for a moment. “Hey, you didn’t wrestle-off yesterday, did you?”

“No, nobody challenged. 135’s all mine now.”

“Cool. None of those guys could come close to beating you. Why bother challenging?”

“You blew everybody’s mind yesterday, pinning Mark.”

Zach shrugged. “I get the feeling that nobody in here is too happy about it.”

“Don’t be so sure. Things aren’t always the way they look.”

“Most of them look pissed.”

“So aren’t you guys wrestling off again today? I just saw Mark come out of the office. He’s got all his sweats on, maybe even a rubber suit. He didn’t look like he was getting ready for a wrestle-off.”

“I don’t know why we wouldn’t. Nobody said anything to me about it either way.”

The office door opened while they were both looking at it. Crisfield stepped out, looked around, and met eyes with Zach and Betterton. He looked side to side and then waved for them to come over. “He must mean you,” Betterton said. “Probably what we were just talking about.”

Zach nodded at the coach, and then began pulling a pair of shorts on. “Yeah, I bet you’re right. Guess I’ll see you later,” he said as he grabbed his t-shirt and slammed his locker door shut.

“Close the door, Zach,” Crisfield said after Zach followed him into the office. Unknowingly, Zach sat in the chair that Easton had vacated only a few minutes earlier. The office felt cold to Zach in his shorts and t-shirt.

“Zach, things have changed. Mark and I decided that he and the team would be better off with him at 160. So he won’t be wrestling you today or tomorrow.”

Zach saw no reason to pretend he was surprised, but he played along with his coach. “So I’m the starter at 171?”

“Yes. For Saturday, at least. Since the other wrestler dropped out it defaults to you.”

“He didn’t just drop out. I pinned him yesterday. Right before he made this sudden decision to help the team out. It wasn’t exactly handed to me.”

“I never said anything was handed to you,” Crisfield said. He stared at Zach, who stared right back. “It doesn’t matter how it happened,” Crisfield continued. “All you need to know is that there aren’t any more wrestle-offs for you this week. You’ll be starting at 171 on Saturday.”

“What about Easton? He can’t wrestle 160, can he? It’s too late for him to wrestle-off.”

“Leave it alone, Zach,” Crisfield said, his voice getting louder and deeper. “It isn’t your concern.”

“Just because he’s the team captain, the rules don’t apply? That stinks.”

“I said leave it alone. You’re crossing a line here,” Crisfield said, pointing a finger at Zach. “You don’t want to do that. I told you to drop it.”

“Okay Coach. Whatever.” Zach got up without another word and walked to the door.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but Mark’s not wrestling on Saturday. Rules are rules. That’s the way I run my team.”

~~~

“I might as well tell you guys now,” Zach said from his usual seat in Fauquier’s van. “I’m not staying late. I have a match in the morning. If I have to ride with you guys you have to get me home early.”

Fauquier whirled his head around toward Zach. He was about to say something until Dumphries smacked him on the arm. “Light’s green,” he said.

They drove in silence. They were on their way to a last-minute job that Fauquier landed, filling in at a private sweet sixteen party after another local band spontaneously broke up earlier in the day. Dumphries and Herndon each pulled packs of cigarettes out and prepared to light up. “Hey, Zach, got a match?” Herndon asked, elbowing Zach in the ribs.

“Up yours,” Zach grumbled.

“Dude, it just keeps getting worse and worse,” Fauquier said from the front seat. “What happened on Saturday? Where were you?”

“Sorry, I went to the mall with somebody and couldn’t get a ride back in time,” Zach said. “My bad.”

“Man, when are you going to get your driver’s license?” Herndon asked.

“What’s the difference? My mom always needs the car anyway.”

“Do you still want to be a part of this band?” Fauquier asked. “Because we need to know now. Big things are going to start happening soon and we need everybody on board. One thousand percent.”

“I’m here, aren’t I? I don’t know anything you don’t know about stage monitors. You didn’t need me on Saturday.”

“Maybe we don’t need you tonight either,” Fauquier said. “Not if you’re not into it like you used to be.”

“Great,” Herndon said. “Right Joe, good thinking. We’re a rock band. What do we need with a singer and a bass player?”

“Maybe we just don’t need this one,” Fauquier said as he maneuvered the van through an intersection clogged with traffic.

“Calm down you guys,” Dumphries said. “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. Why are we looking for things to fight about? When we have a problem to solve, we’ll know it.”

Chapter 10

When Saturday came Zach was as nervous about wrestling as he had ever been in his life. Even if his weight situation would have allowed it he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep any food down. After a hot shower he put on several layers of clothing and then joined his mother, who nibbled buttered toast and sipped tea as they talked.

“The match starts at twelve-thirty?” she asked. “I don’t want to miss any of it. I love when you guys burst out of the locker room and run onto the mat.”

“JV starts at eleven-thirty,” Zach said. “I guess we’ll start whenever they’re done. The schedule says twelve-thirty.”

“You know I’m really proud of you for what you’re doing this year, don’t you?” she asked. “I know how hard you’ve worked. Today it’ll start paying off.”

“Thanks, Mom. I wish everybody on the team felt that way.”

“They’ll get used to you. Of course, beating the captain probably wasn’t a good way to make friends now, was it?” she said, raising her eyebrows.

“Guess not.”

It‘ll work itself out.”

“Do you think you could drop me at the school? I don’t want to walk in the cold. My legs will get all tight.”

“Sure. Whenever you’re ready. Then I’ll come back in time for the match.”

By the time Zach arrived at the school a dozen wrestlers were already at work preparing for the match. Most were involved in wheeling sections of mat in on carts and taping them together. Mark Easton seemed to be in charge of that group. Zach didn’t need a confrontation so he stayed away. Instead, he joined Bob Lanham and Glen Elg, who were pulling metal chairs from an alcove and setting them up as team benches. When that was done they retrieved some tumbling mats from a storage room and laid them behind the benches, where they would be used for warming up.

“Are you nervous?” Lanham asked Zach. “You wrestled varsity almost the whole season last year so you should be used to it.”

“I’m real nervous,” Zach said. “It’s just the way I am. I get scared before band gigs too.”

“You’ll kick butt,” Lanham predicted.

“I just hope I don’t gas out like last year.”

“You know what? I never thought you’d be a starter. I mean, I knew you’d be on the team, because you’re always on the team. But I definitely didn’t think you’d be back on varsity this year. I have to give you credit.”

Coach Crisfield came in to check the progress of the set up. “Looking good,” he said. “After the mat’s taped up we’ll need some guys to wash it. Any volunteers?”

Zach was tempted to suggest that Easton do it, since he didn’t have anything else to do that day, but he kept his mouth shut. Some JV wrestlers were drafted for the task instead. At eleven o’clock, after the Woolwich High School wrestling team had arrived, all the wrestlers headed to the locker room for the first official weigh-in of the season.

Everybody on both sides made weight. Like most of the wrestlers, Zach had brought some food for after weigh-ins. As he sat on a locker room bench in his red and blue Chapel Forge singlet, munching Cheerios from a baggie, he noticed Easton watching him from about twenty feet away.

The varsity wrestlers drifted into the gym when the JV matches started. Having a little food in his stomach calmed Zach down some. He settled into a spot in the first row of the bleachers and stretched back against the seat behind him to watch the matches. Seconds later Beth Ellicott walked in holding a basketball. She looked around the mostly-empty gym until she spotted Zach. As she walked towards him she dribbled the basketball. The heads of annoyed coaches, wrestlers and the referee swiveled in her direction but she continued to bounce the ball.

“Aren’t you wrestling?” she asked when she reached the bleachers. Water from her hair, probably from a post-practice shower, had dripped and created dark spots on her blue shirt.

“This is JV,” Zach said. “We don’t start until they’re all done.”

“Oh, cool. I didn’t think I missed it. I heard you beat Mark out.”

News traveled fast on the jock information network, Zach thought. Especially when things go bad for one of their own. “I beat him. We were supposed to wrestle-off again but he quit.”

“He quit?”

“He decided to go to a different weight class after I beat him.”

“Wow, Zach. I had no idea.”

“No idea about what?”

“I didn’t know you were so good. He said you weren’t really that good.”

“Who did?”

“Well, Mark did.”

“Easton said that? You know him?”

“Sure I do. Everybody does. It’s not like we’re best friends or anything. We always have classes together and stuff.”

“What else did he say about me?” Zach asked, sitting up.

“Zach, don’t get mad. It’s nothing, really. Just what I said is all.”

He leaned back again. “I’m not mad. I just forgot that he knows everybody. I shouldn’t forget that.”

“At least we know what not to talk about.” She sat down next to him and put the ball between her feet. “He told me how different you are from last year.”

“I just look different, that’s all.”

“That’s not what Mark said.”

“So, did you just get done practicing?”

“Yeah. We beat Haddonboro last night, so I thought we might get the day off, but nope. Here we are. Haddonboro was ranked number five.”

“You can’t just skip practice. You’ve got to keep moving, to stay on-weight,” Zach said, failing to keep a straight face.

“Thank God we don’t have to deal with that. We’re not even done yet today, though. The JVs don’t play until tonight. Coach asked me to come by and help out. I’ll probably be doing the scorebook.”

“Wild Saturday night,” Zach said.

~~~

When the varsity team emerged from the locker room for warm-ups Zach was disappointed to see that not many more people had come. The loudest sound he could hear as they ran onto the mat was his own footsteps. He was able to inspect the bleachers while doing jumping jacks. He located his mother quickly, directly behind the scorer’s table with a camera in her hand. Beth was seated near the end of the bleachers, surrounded by what Zach assumed were other members of the girls basketball team. Other than that it looked like a crowd of parents and close friends of wrestlers.

Except, that is, for one person that Zach noticed while switching from pushups to sit-ups. Jeanine. He was sure it was Jeanine, as odd as it was to see her there. She was standing against the wall in a long, flowing sweater beneath the electronic scoreboard and a series of colorful basketball championship banners. Her hair looked much lighter than the last time he’d seen her, whenever that was. He looked away rather than return her smile. That wouldn’t have felt right during warmups.

His nervousness faded away quickly, the way it always did when the whistle was blown to start his match. Just as he had planned, he began by trying for a double-leg takedown. His opponent, Morgan Ocala, hardly seemed fazed by the quick start. He sprawled, kicking his legs out of Zach’s reach and landing on Zach’s back. Before Zach had a chance to back out of the failed shot Ocala zipped behind him and earned two points for a takedown.

Even before Zach had solidified his base position Ocala went on the attack. He moved out and tried for a front headlock. When that didn’t work he scooted back to the side and inserted a far-side cradle. It was only then, as Ocala head-butted Zach all the way onto his back, that Zach realized how quick his opponent was. The cradle wasn’t tight enough to pin Zach, but Ocala held him long enough to earn three back points. At the end of the first period Zach was behind by 5-0. In the seconds between periods Zach suddenly had doubts about whether he had improved much at all since the previous season.

It didn’t get much better for Zach as the second period unfolded. Again Ocala tried for the front headlock. When that failed he went back to the cradle, this time from the near side. He managed to lock hands just below Zach’s chin. Zach found himself on his back in a tight pinning combination with nearly a minute and a half left before the period would end. He desperately tried to peel Ocala’s grip off while at the same time rolling away from the pin as best he could. After what seemed like years he heard his teammates yelling that there were only thirty seconds remaining. For the rest of the period, until the buzzer thankfully sounded, he rolled and thrashed violently, not caring what it looked like as long as the referee didn’t call the pin.

When he stood up to walk back to the center of the mat for the final period Zach was alarmed at his condition. His vision was blurry and the room seemed to be spinning. He couldn’t get enough air into his lungs now matter how fast he sucked it in. None of the training he’d done seemed to matter. After reaching the center Zach pretended to re-tie a shoelace, stalling for more rest time.

It didn’t work. The referee bent down and got in his face to ask what starting position he would choose for the third period. Bottom position against this guy isn’t where I want to be, Zach thought before signaling that he chose to begin in neutral position. He wasn’t very optimistic about cutting down the eight-point deficit. He was hoping just to survive.

When the period started Zach tried for his favorite takedown, the fireman’s carry. He quickly got bogged down underneath Ocala, who countered by pancaking Zach onto his back. This time Zach was unable to avoid being pinned. The wrestlers untangled after the referee slapped the mat and Ocala quickly stood up. Zach struggled to his feet and shook his opponent’s hand. He managed to make his way back to the bench without falling.

It was a good ten minutes before Zach’s vision cleared up, but he was still breathing hard when Assistant Coach Hancock plopped down in the chair next to him. “Tough one, huh?” he said.

“Tough one, my butt,” Zach said as he sucked air. “I thought I was in shape but when I got out there it was like I’d never trained at all.”

Hancock smiled. “You are in shape, Zach. I’ve been watching you. Sometimes when you’re agitated or nervous, that’s what happens. It happened to me plenty of times. If you were as out of shape as you looked out there we’d have seen it at practice. You’ll settle down and then you’ll be fine.”

“That kid made me look like I’d never wrestled before,” Zach said. His tone masked his relief about what Hancock had just said to him.

“He does that a lot,” Hancock said. Zach didn’t respond. “Don’t you know who you just wrestled?” Hancock asked.

“Not really,” answered a puzzled Zach.

“That’s Morgan Ocala,” Hancock said. “He lost in the state finals last year. This past summer he won the freestyle nationals out at Fargo. He’s one of the best in the country. What’s the matter with your coaches, boy? Don’t they tell you anything?” he said with a laugh.

Zach kept to himself in the locker room after the dual meet was over. The last person he wanted to see after what had happened was Mark Easton. Coach Crisfield spent a few minutes talking about the match after everybody was showered. A few wrestlers got up to leave when the coach appeared to be finished, but he called them back.

“Gentlemen, before you go,” Crisfield said. “One thing. I hope you’re all free tomorrow. I know you’ve all blocked out time for your mandatory Sunday run.” When nobody responded he added “The correct answer is ‘Yes, Coach.’”

Crisfield continued when the faint laughter had stopped. “We’ve got a great opportunity tomorrow. Joe Melchiore is running a takedown clinic just for our team over at Patriot Wrestling Club. Is there anybody here who doesn’t know who Joe Melchiore is?”

One or two hands went up around the locker room. Zach was surprised. Even he knew who Melchiore was, and he hadn’t spent years engrossed in the sport the way most of these guys had. “Melchiore is maybe the best wrestler ever to come out of South Jersey,” Crisfield said. “He was a three-time state champion from Blackwood. He was an All-American in college, too.”

“I trained with him over the summer,” volunteered Dan Frederick, the 145-pound varsity starter. “He’ll hurt you but you learn a lot.” Zach wondered how much it had cost Frederick’s father to have his son trained by a college All-American. And Frederick isn’t even that good, he thought.

“I don’t know why they’re doing this for us,” Crisfield said. “But we’re going to take them up on it. The clinic will be at two-o’clock. I wouldn’t be too happy if everybody, at least the starters, didn’t make it. This can take the place of your run, just this once. Really, you should be able to find time to do both. Understood?”

Zach understood it very clearly, and knew it was going to be a problem. There was a band practice scheduled for the next afternoon, at exactly the same time as the clinic. He’d made a big deal about Sunday being the day that he would absolutely, positively always be available. Now, even that was changing.

After the morning’s wrestling disaster Zach hoped he wouldn’t run into anybody on his way out of the school. It wasn’t long, however, before he did. He had only taken a step or two after coming out of the locker room when Jeanine appeared, looking like she was about to cry. “Zach, Honey,” she said, putting her arms around him. “Sorry about what happened. Are you okay?”

Zach was shocked that she was still there, shocked that she even understood that he had lost badly and shocked that she hugged him. Mostly he was shocked that she called him ‘Honey.’ She is one strange girl, he thought as he waited patiently for the hug to end.

“I’m fine. It’s just wrestling. He clobbered me. It happens.”

“You weren’t hurt? I thought it ended because you were hurt. Then you could hardly walk after you got up.”

“I was just tired, and embarrassed, but I’m okay.”

“Oh, okay,” she said. Just like that, her concerns had vanished. “Was that your girlfriend you were with before the match?”

“You were here that early? Why didn’t you come over?”

“I don’t know.”

“That was Beth. She’s not my girlfriend. She’s on the basketball team.”

“I saw the ball.”

Suddenly Zach had had enough of her for the day. Sometimes he enjoyed her company but at times like this he found her so hard to understand that it was exhausting. All he wanted to do was get away. “Look, I’ve got to get home. My mom already left, and she’s waiting on me.”

“I could give you a ride if you want.”

“No thanks. I feel like walking some. I’m a little stiff.”

“Okay,” she said again. “Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow then. You’re practicing at Joe’s, right?”

“Yup,” It would be too complicated to explain why he might not be there. “Two o’clock.” She didn’t move. “I just remembered,” he said. “I left my jump rope in my locker.” With any luck at all, she’d be gone when he came back out of the locker room.

~~~

Beth had waited by the main gym lobby door for nearly an hour for Zach to come out after the dual meet. As she waited she watched a blond hippie-like girl who was walking around nervously near the locker room door. Kind of looks like Stevie Nicks, she thought with a laugh. But when the hippie girl ran to Zach and threw her arms around him as soon as she saw him, it didn’t seem funny at all to Beth anymore.

Chapter 11

Toby Dumphries said just what Zach knew he would say. “Joe’s not going to like it. Last time you told him that Sunday was the best day for you. Now you’re not coming, after everybody else screwed up their whole weekend just for you?”

“Toby, I don’t know what to do. I just don’t. I can’t be in two places at the same time. I got Joe squeezing me from your end, and my coach squeezing me from his end.”

“Yeah, but your coach always gets his way. That makes it hard for us, don’t you think?”

“Man, Toby. I thought you’d help me out with this.”

“There’s nothing I can do. You have to make a choice between wrestling and the band.”

Zach thought for a second before responding. “You mean for tomorrow, or forever?”

“I just meant for tomorrow. But forever might be a good idea too.”

After hanging up the phone Zach was even more upset than before. If his mom hadn’t left for work an hour earlier he would have unloaded all his troubles on her. He wandered into the living room and flipped through the channels on the TV before he remembered that Beth had told him she’d be at the school that night for a JV basketball game. He had wanted to see her after the match earlier that day but she disappeared. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t remember if she’d said what time the game would be played. A few minutes after grabbing his coat he was walking into the gym lobby. The squeak of sneakers and the steady thump of the ball emanating from the gym made it clear that a basketball game was indeed being played. The fourth quarter had just started, according to the scoreboard. Zach spotted Beth at the scorer’s table as he walked to a section of bleachers and took a seat.

When the game ended he crossed the gym to the cluster of girls surrounding the home team. It looked as though Beth had seen him coming but then ducked back into the group. He walked past the group, hoping to catch her eye. When he didn’t, he took a seat nearby and waited. He needed to talk to somebody and it didn’t matter how long it took.

The scrum of girls broke apart shortly after Zach sat down, and Beth walked over to where he was sitting. Zach stood up as she approached. “Hi Zach,” she said. “What are you doing here?”

“You told me you’d be here for the game tonight.”

“That’s why you’re here?”

“Well, yeah.”

“I have to help with clean up. I’ll just move a couple chairs. Can you wait a second?”

“Sure,” Zach said. He thought momentarily about offering to help but decided not to complicate things. “I’ll just be over here.”

Beth hoisted a few chairs before slipping away just as she said she would. “They’re supposed to clean up after their own game,” she said. “I’m not even supposed to be here. So what’s up?”

“Nothing. I’m bummed about my match today. Did you see I got pinned?”

“Can’t win them all.”

“Tell me about it.”

“I waited for you after but then your girlfriend was there. I didn’t want to get in her way.”

“My girlfriend? You mean Jeanine?”

“The girl that was hanging all over you.”

“She’s just a friend. Man, does that sound lame. But it’s true.”

“Some friend, you two must really be close,” Beth said with a smile.

“She hangs around the band a lot. She’s kind of a space case. I couldn’t believe she was even there.”

“I still want to come hear your band.”

“You better hurry. I may be getting kicked out.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No. Not kidding. They’re not too happy that I spend so much time on wrestling. Now the coach told us just today that we have to go to some wrestling seminar thing tomorrow. I already told the guys that I could do band practice. I don’t know what to do.”

“There’s no way you can do both?” Beth asked.

“They’re both at two o’clock,” Zach said.

“Well, I can understand them being mad if you’re canceling out at the last minute. Can’t you tell your coach you already had something scheduled?”

“Then it’ll be him that’s mad. I can’t win.”

“I’d go to band practice if I were you. You told them you’d be there. The coach has to understand that you have a life. He can’t just throw this out there with no notice, especially on a Sunday.”

Zach nodded but said nothing. He noticed a few girls watching them from across the gym, and Beth noticed him noticing. “They’re kind of waiting for me,” she said. “I really have to go. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Zach said. “Thanks for the advice.”

He still faced the same dilemma as he walked home from the school, but somehow he felt better about it. Maybe that was because he knew what he was going to do. Beth was right. He should honor the commitment he made first. He would skip the wrestling session and go to band practice.

~~~

Zach didn’t wake up until ten o’clock on Sunday morning. That was later than he’d planned because he still had to get his running in before band practice. After dressing quickly he ran out the door. Halfway through the four-mile course he realized that he’d forgotten to call Dumphries to say he’d be coming to practice after all, and to ask for a ride.

For an hour after he finished his run he tried calling Dumphries. Each time he was greeted by the answering machine. By noon he began to panic. The only way he knew to get to band practice was to ride with him.

Another way came to mind. His mom was at work but that was only five miles away. If he left soon enough he could run there in time to beg her for a ride. It would be a lot of running, especially on top of what he’d already done, but it could work. He changed into dry sweats and added an extra layer for warmth. By one-fifteen, breathing hard and dripping with sweat despite the cold, he reached the restaurant.

“Zach!” his mom said when she saw him waiting at the hostess station. “What are you doing here?”

“Mom, can you give me a ride to practice?” he blurted. “Toby left without me.”

She looked at her watch. “Zach, it’s a really bad time. We’re right in the middle of the lunch rush.” Just then a waiter approached her. “I’ve got an eight-top that wants to add four more late arrivers. Can I push a couple tables over for them?”

“What tables?” Zach’s mom asked. Zach stepped back and tuned out the conversation, which was steeped in restaurant lingo that he didn’t understand anyway. He bent over and rested his hands on his knees, still trying to catch his breath.

“Okay Zach,” his mom said to him after solving the seating problem. “Here’s what we’ll do. Gina comes on at two. Usually that means she’s here at quarter ‘til. After she gets here, if everything’s calm, I’ll run you over. It’s in Westville, right?”

“Yup. Thanks, Mom.” He went to the restroom for some paper towels to mop his face with. He knew he was in for a chilly afternoon. At some point his body would cool down, and the damp sweats he was wearing would keep him cold. Even worse, Fauquier would get mad all over again at practice every time he looked over and saw Zach in his sweats.

By two-fifteen they were in front of Fauquier’s house. “Thanks, Mom,” Zach said, leaning over and kissing her on the cheek. “You saved me. I’ll see you at home.” He pushed the door open and stepped out. After she pulled away he noticed that Jeanine was watching from the top of the steps. She bounded down and walked quickly to meet Zach on the walkway. “Zach, what are you doing here?”

“Band practice.”

“They didn’t think you were coming. Was that your girlfriend in the car?”

“I changed my mind,” Zach replied, ignoring her question. “Sounds like they’re starting without me.” He trotted up the steps as quickly as Jeanine had come down them.

“Zach,” Jeanine called after him. “Wait a second.”

He heard her but he kept walking. Something from inside the house suddenly sounded wrong, very wrong. He opened the door and stepped inside. The music coming from the next room was so loud that nobody inside heard the door close. They were starting without him. Even worse, they were playing ‘Fire House’ without him, and somebody was obviously playing the bass. Probably my bass, he thought. He felt a surge of emotion moments later when he heard somebody screaming the lyrics into a microphone. Jeanine had told him a few days earlier that Fauquier was talking about replacing him. Had they found a way to get that done already, without even telling him? He had just talked with Dumphries the night before. He hadn’t said anything about it.

Zach walked into the living room where band practice was always held. Everything looked the way it usually did except that somebody else was holding his bass. The stranger wore round ‘John Lennon’ sunglasses and a headband to hold back his bushy blond hair. His face was covered with thick beard stubble. A burning cigarette was jammed filter-first onto the end of one the thick bass strings, where it protruded beyond the tuning peg. He looked to Zach like he couldn’t decide between Sammy Hagar and Kurt Cobain, and so he tried to look like both of them.

The musicians dropped out of the song one at a time as they realized that Zach was there. Herndon saw him first, and immediately stopped playing chords on his guitar. Dumphries looked up from his drums when he noticed that Herndon had gone quiet, and froze just as suddenly. Fauquier dropped out too, but not before playing a few more measures while looking directly at Zach. The nameless singing bass player was the last to stop. Suddenly the only sounds in the room were Jeanine’s footsteps as she hurried in.

“How about getting that cigarette off my axe?” Zach said, trying to stay calm. “You got about a second before I do it myself, and you won’t like where I put it.”

“Zach, it isn’t like it looks,” Herndon said. “We thought you weren’t coming.”

“Yeah, Zach,” Dumphries said as he dropped his sticks on the snare drum and stood up. “You told me last night you weren’t coming.”

“That makes it even worse,” Zach said. “Why didn’t you tell me you guys were booting me out if I didn’t come today?”

Fauquier unstrapped his guitar and carefully placed it in its stand. “Zach,” he said. “You can’t expect us to keep skipping practices because you’re too busy for us. We got Glimmer here to fill in for you so we could keep moving, that’s all. Don’t get all pissy about it.”

“Glimmer?” Zach asked. “What’s a Glimmer?”

The guy holding the bass finally looked at Zach, pointing a finger at him while making a clicking sound with his tongue. When he saw Zach’s eyes go back to the cigarette he quickly removed it from the string and put it in his mouth.

“My dog has fleas, what does he have?” sang Herndon in a southern accent as he plucked the open strings on his guitar from top to bottom.

“I guess you thought it was okay to hand my equipment out to whoever showed up,” Zach said.

“We didn’t think you‘d mind,” Fauquier said.

“He sounded horrible,” Zach said.

“At least he’s here,” Fauquier answered.

“That’s more than you can say for me,” Zach said. “I’m out of here.” He turned to walk out without waiting for a response. He had to pivot to avoid crashing into Jeanine, who had crept up behind him. He walked through the door, purposely slamming it behind him as hard as he could. Getting there had been difficult, and it had all been for naught. Getting home was going to be all but impossible. There was no way he was staying, though. Two bass players in a rock band was one too many. He walked away from the house as quickly as he could, before anybody had a chance to catch up. But when nobody did he couldn’t help feeling disappointed.

Chapter 12

It came as no surprise to Zach that Coach Crisfield summoned him to his office before practice on Monday. It was too much to expect that his failure to attend the Sunday clinic would be overlooked. He trudged into the office and took a seat in the plastic chair by the desk.

“We missed you at the clinic yesterday,” Crisfield began. “I thought I made it clear that I wanted all the starters there. It was a little embarrassing when Melchiore counted heads.”

“I planned on going, Coach. At least, I did when I left here on Saturday. But there was something I had to do and I couldn’t get out of it.”

“Was it something to do with that rock band you’re in?”

He knows I’m in a band? “Yeah. I told them that I’d always be around on Sundays for practice. That was before the clinic came up.”

“Look, Zach. So far you’ve shown me a lot this year. You obviously worked your butt off in the off-season. You’re bigger and stronger, and you’re in better shape than anybody on the team. That alone is amazing. Last year you couldn’t walk across the room without gassing. But I’m going to level with you here. I don’t like this band thing. It’s screwing you up. And that’s going to hurt my team.”

“It only made a difference this one time,” Zach protested. “Other than that I’ve managed to do both.”

“So far. Who knows how long you’ll be able to keep it up.”

“That’s not fair. Do you tell the other guys to go home and sit on their hands after practice every night? Like Olney, what about him? He goes hunting after nearly every match. How come you’re not all over him?”

“Because I ‘m not worried about that affecting my team. That’s all you need to know.”

“What difference does it make what I do in my own time? If I wasn’t the best 171-pounder you have I wouldn’t win the wrestle-offs. Why do you have to single me out?”

“Zach, I’m only trying to help you. And take care of my team. I’ll give you another chance. Just try not to let it get in the way again. Let’s leave it at that.”

When Zach came out of the office Easton was standing within a foot of the door. “How was band practice yesterday?” he asked Zach.

“How’s your weight?” Zach retorted. “Still planning to run away to 160?”

Easton laughed. “What a dummy. I played you like a fiddle last week. Do you think I wanted to take on Ocala? Nope, I was glad to let you have it.”

He was sure Easton hadn’t purposely thrown the wrestle-off, but the remark stung, especially since so many of his teammates were watching. “Oh yeah? Then why aren’t you and me wrestling off today then? What are you afraid of?”

“I’m going to try 160 out for a few weeks, but it has nothing to do with a choke-bag like you. If I change my mind and come back you better look out.”

Easton pinned Dan Frederick’s sophomore brother Archie in the wrestle-off for 160 a few minutes later. There would be a second wrestle-off the next day, since the challenger had to win two out of three. Nobody had any doubt about who would win that one.

Later in practice Crisfield ordered the wrestlers to break up into their round robin wrestling groups. Eric Crofton and Easton were scheduled to wrestle first. Zach was third in line but he didn’t think he could wait that long for a piece of Easton. He walked out and dismissed Crofton with a jerk of his thumb.

Zach came at Easton high as soon as the whistle blew. He was determined to hit a headlock and throw Easton onto his back just as he had done in the wrestle-off. Easton seemed to know what was coming. He brushed the headlock away, ducked under Zach’s arm and slipped behind. After locking tightly around Zach’s waist he easily back-tripped Zach and covered for a two-point takedown.

When they restarted Zach came at Easton hard and low. He shot for a double leg takedown. If he got stuck he’d try switching to a fireman’s carry. It turned out that no backup plan was needed. He was in so deep that he wrapped both of Easton’s legs up and pulled them into his own chest before Easton knew what had happened. He lifted Easton enough to dump him onto his back and quickly inserted a reverse half nelson. It was so tight and Zach was so perfectly positioned that Easton couldn’t move. Easton relaxed his body immediately, trying to create the appearance that he hadn’t been trying very hard.

That enraged Zach even more and he tightened his grip. “Alright, alright, new start, Burnout,” Easton yelled as he reached around to slap Zach on the back. When Zach still didn’t let him up, Easton tried using his free hand to punch Zach, but was unable to land it because their bodies were too close together. “Get off me you freak!” Easton yelled. He bridged hard but still couldn’t free himself.

A long, loud blow on the whistle by Coach Hancock came next. Coach Crisfield ran over at the same time and tugged at Zach’s shoulder. “Get up Zach. Now!” he said sternly. Only then did Zach relax his grip and pull away.

After Easton pulled himself to his feet Zach moved to within inches of him. “Go ahead. Talk trash,” Zach said. Their faces were so close that Zach could feel Easton’s breath.

“You’re nuts!” Easton said, forcing a laugh and looking around the room. “What’s the matter with you?”

“Zach! Get up to my office right now!” Crisfield said. “Go!” Without a word Zach walked out of the Fire House and into the locker room. The office door was unlocked so he pushed his way in, allowing the door to slam into the wall, and took his customary seat in the plastic chair.

Coach Crisfield was already yelling when he appeared in the doorway. “I’m not going to have you disrupting my team. You’ve got to knock this stuff off. I’m not going to put up with it from you or anybody.”

“He started it, Coach,” Zach said bitterly. “He always starts it. Why does he get a free pass? He rags on me every chance he gets, right in front of everybody, and you never say a word. It’s worse now that I kicked his ass in wrestle-offs.”

“He’s been on the squad for four years and I’ve never had a problem with him. I think it’s coming from you.”

“I’ve been here for three years.”

“Zach, you’re not going to last around here if you don’t cool it.”

“I’m trying, Coach, really I am. It’s hard. He can do whatever he wants, and the whole team is always on his side. I feel like I have to stand up for myself because nobody else will.” He felt the sharp pain of tears in the corners of his eyes and stopped talking before it got any worse.

Crisfield leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head, trying to give his wrestler a chance to settle down. “I tell you what, Zach. I’ll watch more closely. If that’s going on, I’ll put a stop to it. I’ll give you some protection. If I do that, will you try to tone it down a little? I really don’t want to lose you, Zach, but this has to stop.”

Zach nodded in the affirmative, afraid to speak because he didn’t want to cry. That was enough for Crisfield. “Okay, deal. And I really need you to back off on the band stuff too. This team has to be your top priority. That’s the way wrestling is. Can you do that?”

“Maybe. I’ll try.”

Crisfield sighed. “Okay. That’ll have to do for now. I’m going back to the room. Take a few minutes and get your head together before you come back.”

~~~

The doorbell rang just as Zach and his mom were finishing up with the dinner dishes. Before opening it Zach looked out the window and saw Fauquier’s van near a streetlight. He tried to remember the last time Fauquier had been at his house as he unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door.

Herndon and Dumphries were there as well as Fauquier. Zach was sure that their reason for dropping by had something to do with what had happened the day before. “Where’s Glimmer?” he asked as he closed the door. Everybody moved into the living room.

“Zach, we thought we’d come by and see how you’re doing,” Fauquier said.

“I take it you got home okay yesterday,” Dumphries said. “I would’ve given you a ride but you vanished.”

“I hitched. One dude brought me most of the way. Then I just ran another mile or so.”

“Zach, we only had Glimmer over because we didn’t think you were coming,” Fauquier said.

“Whatever,” Zach answered. “Do whatever you have to do.”

“What do you think about the band, Zach?” Fauquier asked. “Do you still want in? I don’t want to lose you but you don’t seem like you care much anymore.”

“Yeah, I still want in. I was there yesterday, wasn’t I? I skipped wrestling practice to come.”

“We don’t want to lose you,” Herndon said.

“But you have to decide,” Fauquier said. “We know you’re not going to give up this wrestling stuff. The band has to be your top priority, though, or it won’t work.”

“Haven’t I been making it work? Like I said, I skipped practice on Sunday for the band.”

“Not good enough,” Fauquier said. “We need that all the time, not just on your day off.”

“Did you guys all agree to come here and give me this ‘or else’ speech?” Zach asked, looking at Dumphries and Herndon.

“Yeah, we all agreed,” Fauquier said.

“And you already have my replacement lined up. Do I get to keep my bass?”

“Please,” Herndon said. “That guy blows. He can sing okay but he can’t play. We need a bass player too.”

“He did alright once he warmed up, Bo,” Fauquier said. “Come on, don’t make this too complicated.”

“I don’t want to get kicked out. I’ll try to do better. And if I can’t, then cool. You’ve got to do what you’ve got to do.”

“Zach, man,” Dumphries said. “I just want you to know. We didn’t know Glimmer was going to be there. Just Joe did. I would have told you on the phone that night, I swear. When he showed up I was as surprised as you were.”

“Cool , Toby,” Zach said. “I’m glad to hear that.”

~~~

The next day there was less tension in the Fire House during practice. Neither Easton nor Zach seemed to want a repeat of what had happened the day before. The intensity level was high whenever the two squared off and wrestled live, but there were no nasty words or unsportsmanlike wrestling. Zach wondered if Easton was going to back off now that he had formally secured his own spot in the lineup.

After live wrestling was over Coach Crisfield gathered the team around him in the center of the room to talk about neutral position stances. Zach began to scoot over with the rest of the team when he felt Coach Hancock’s hand on his shoulder. “Zach,” he said. “Come over here for a minute, I want to talk to you. You don’t need to hear what they’re saying over there.”

Worried that he had found a new way to get in trouble, Zach followed Hancock into the corner where the coach went down on one knee. Zach took a moment to wipe his face with his sweatshirt before going down into the same position. “I want talk to you about something my old coach called ‘owning the mat.’ What I mean by that is being in control of the tempo, and, you know, the ‘feel’ of your match. Do you know what I mean?”

“Not really.”

“Let’s get specific about you. I’ve been watching you. Once you’re out there, it looks to me like you can’t wait to pin your guy and get back off the mat. Now, that kind of aggression is good, don’t get me wrong. And that’s something that can’t be taught. But at some point a wrestler has to move beyond that.”

“Okay,” Zach nodded, still not exactly sure what Hancock was getting at.

“It looks like you’re only thinking about ten seconds ahead during the match. What I’m talking about is thinking thirty seconds ahead, a minute ahead, maybe even about how the things you’re doing will affect the match during the next period. Is the match moving too fast? Too slow? How can you set him up for something later? Things like that. The idea is to learn to think calmly during a match. Do you follow?”

“Yeah. I think so.”

“It’s good to be a shark, but not all the time,” Hancock continued. “Instead of going into a pinning frenzy when the whistle blows, slow it down and think it through a little more.”

“Okay,” Zach said.

“It’s a lot to digest, I know,” Hancock said. “Just think about it. This isn’t something you can work on much at practice. You’ve got to do it during a real match. I want you to stretch the match out, try a few different things, see how you feel late in the match. You’ll still get your pins, and you should. That’s the name of the game. But if you get more comfortable out there, and maybe even keep your mind busier, I’m thinking you won’t gas out so much. Nervous exhaustion is a real thing. I’ve seen some great wrestlers who had to get past that. I think that’s your problem, too. If you keep your composure and manage the match, maybe pace yourself when you can, the problem might go away.”

~~~

Wednesday Night’s match was against Salem Catholic, a perennial conference doormat. The Chapel Forge lineup was the same as it was on Saturday except for the 160-pound weight class where Mark Easton would be making his season debut. During warmups Zach noticed that the crowd was bigger than it had been on Saturday. He liked that. Just like when he was playing music, he always thought it was better to have lots of people watching.

Hancock came over and set next to Zach during the 112-pound match. “How are you feeling?”

“Good.”

“You remember what we talked about, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Let’s see what you can do,” Hancock said, slapping Zach on the knee as he stood up and walked away.

During the weigh-in Zach had taken a good look at his opponent, Brian Melbourne, and was unimpressed. He looked like a freshman who hadn’t spent any time lifting weights. He was a few inches shorter than Zach with most of his weight in his belly. When Melbourne came out in his singlet for the 171-pound bout he didn’t look any better than he had in the locker room. This was the kind of match that Zach normally expected to end early with a pin. Tonight, he decided, he’d try it Hancock’s way and think his way through the match.

As soon as the match started Zach shot in at Melbourne’s legs. He easily picked up a single leg, tripped Melbourne and followed him to the mat for two points. He chopped Melbourne’s arm and broke him down to his stomach. Then he easily inserted a half-nelson and turned Melbourne onto his back. Less than a minute had gone by and he already had a 5-0 lead. He could have pinned Melbourne but he didn’t. He allowed Melbourne to peel off the half nelson and return to his stomach. Zach then re-applied the half nelson and turned Melbourne over again, this time holding the position until the period ended.

Zach easily escaped in the second period, and immediately headlocked Melbourne to his back. After those back points were awarded, he had a 14-0 lead, and the match was only halfway over. He let Melbourne out of the headlock, and at the same time thought about his own breathing. He felt good, he decided, but mostly because his opponent was so weak and inexperienced that it wasn’t taking much effort to score points. He allowed Melbourne get to his feet and break away, making the score 14-1 when the second period ended.

Before the third period began Zach decided that he’d done enough thinking. He went back to the half-nelson again, and put Melbourne on his back quickly. A few seconds later the referee slapped the mat and the match was over. Zach shook Melbourne’s hand and then returned to his own bench. Once there he was surprised at the warm greeting from his teammates. He heard a ‘Nice job, Zach,’ and a ‘Way to go.’

Coach Hancock came over almost immediately. “How did you feel in the third period? You looked like you had plenty of air.”

“Yeah, I felt pretty good. Did I do what you were talking about?”

Hancock smiled. “Well, sort of. The kid was so horrible it was hard to do anything but pin him. But I think you’ve got the right idea. You looked good. And the most important thing is that you looked calm. That’s what I’m looking for more than anything else. That’s your ticket, staying calm out there.”

Chapter 13

Saturday brought another victory on the mat for Zach, but one that was much tougher than the match against Brian Melbourne and Salem Catholic. This time the outcome was in doubt until Zach took his opponent down with a fireman’s carry late in the third period, putting him ahead by 7-3. It took a full five minutes for him to finally catch his breath after he finished wrestling. Even so, he felt much better about his stamina than he had the last time. As Assistant Coach Hancock pointed out afterwards, he didn’t wilt in the final period.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Hancock said loudly in the locker room. “See? Keep your head out there, stay calm, and you won’t gas at the end. That was a heck of a fireman’s, too.”

The next day Dumphries picked Zach up at noon, and the two headed to Fauquier’s house for band practice. For once Zach had had the luxury of not feeling rushed. He had already gotten his running out of the way earlier that morning. It didn’t matter when band practice ended because all he had after that was a little homework to take care of. For the first time in a while he thought he might enjoy the practice session. They would be rehearsing for a multi-band concert called ‘Asbury Park Rock Festival’ near the Jersey Shore.

The serenity lasted until they were halfway to Fauquier’s, when Dumphries told Zach what he had learned from Fauquier the day before. “You don’t have any matches or anything on Friday night, right?” he asked.

“No,” Zach said. “Just practice. Then two matches on Saturday.”

“Good. Because the schedule changed for Friday. Instead of starting at nine-fifteen, we’re starting at eleven-thirty now. Joe traded times because it means we get to play ninety minutes instead of forty-five.”

“What? When did all this happen?”

“He told me about it last night.”

“What’s he thinking? Eleven-thirty at night? That’s when we’re starting?”

“Joe said you told him you were okay with anything before midnight.”

“I meant being done by midnight, not starting at midnight! I can’t be staying out all night with you guys. We have a huge match the next morning. I’m supposed to be at the school at seven to get on the bus with the team.”

“I’m sure we’ll be off-stage by then,” Dumphries said with a smile.

“Thanks, wiseass.”

“Well, you better tell Joe today that you’re not coming,” Dumphries said, turning serious.

Zach sighed. “I never said I wasn’t coming.”

“Cool. Otherwise there was going to be one nasty fight when we get to Joe’s.”

“But seriously, it isn’t going to be easy.”

“It’s your own fault. You’re trying to do too much. Just tough it out.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You’ll be copping Z’s Saturday morning. I’ll be on the mat with somebody who’s trying to rip my head off.”

Despite his misgivings Zach said nothing when Fauquier announced the schedule change before practice started. He would find a way to get through it, as Dumphries had put it. Both the wrestling team and the band were showing signs of impatience with him and it seemed like a bad time to get stubborn. He put it out of his mind and joined the guys in the day’s rendition of Fire House. Practice was about to begin.

~~~

The ride to the rock festival, most of it along two-lane roads through New Jersey’s Pine Barrens, took about two hours. Fauquier, Herndon and the equipment rode in Fauquier’s van, while Dumphries and Zach trailed in Dumphries’ Swinger. Fauquier had been surprisingly agreeable when Zach mentioned that he and Dumphries would be leaving as soon as possible after they performed.

It turned out that the concert was being held in the grandstand of a horse racetrack that had closed down years earlier. Clusters of rock fans in black t-shirts sat in the rows of hardback chairs in front of a temporary stage. Many hadn’t bothered to occupy seats, choosing instead to stake a claim to some aisle space. There were more of the same crowd crammed into every corner of the concourse area where racing forms, hot dogs and beer had once been sold from now-decrepit stands and kiosks. Most attendees were drinking and nearly all were smoking. Zach made plans to spend as much time outside as possible.

“What did you guys bring?” Dumphries asked when he saw the cooler that Fauquier and Herndon were carrying. Before he could answer the next band started their set off with Black Sabbath’s ‘Iron Man.’

“Beer, mostly,” Herndon said. “And chicken. We stopped off at KFC before we met up with you guys.”

“I’m starved,” said Dumphries. “What are we waiting for?”

“Let’s go eat it in there,” Joe suggested, gesturing in the direction of the stage. “I heard some MTV guys came down from New York to sign some new bands. I bet I can pick them out.”

A few minutes later they were camped out in a row of seats. Fauquier, Herndon and Dumphries were chomping chicken, drinking beer and smoking cigarettes all at the same time. Zach looked at his watch and saw that they wouldn’t even start their set for another two hours. “I’ll be back in an hour to help set up,” he told them. “I need to get some air.” He spent that hour walking around outside in the parking lot and in an adjacent field. When it was time to go back he was relieved to get in from the cold even though he knew he’d be back in the smoke. After he stepped inside he noticed that his boots and the cuffs of his jeans were smeared with mud.

The smoke was thicker and there were a lot more people milling around than before. Zach moved slowly through the crowd, looking around for the rest of his band. He found them after he’d worked through the concourse. They were setting up equipment on the left side of the stage while another band was on the other side playing something by Nirvana.

“I didn’t know we could set up while they’re still playing,” Zach said after hoisting himself onto the stage. “Or else I would have come back sooner.”

“What are we playing, anyway?” Herndon asked. “Joe, did you write up a set list?”

“Yeah,” Fauquier said. “It’s in my case. I’ll get it out in a minute. It’s all hard stuff tonight. Sorry Zach, I know you love those sappy ballads. And we’re playing straight through without any breaks,” he added. “I never tracked down those MTV guys but they must be here somewhere. We’ll give them an earful to think about.”

When they started, about twenty minutes later than scheduled, Zach thought about how long ninety minutes really was. With no down time, this show was going to be hard on his voice. Joe had penciled in several AC-DC songs which were particularly hard on the vocal cords. When the ninety minutes were done he knew he’d be ready to stop.

Once their set began Zach remembered what he loved about the music, the way he always did. They started out with The Clash’s ‘Death or Glory’, one of his favorites. Suddenly he couldn’t get enough of the rush that usually came with being on stage. He knew from the first note that it would go well. The next day was going to be a difficult one but as soon as they were on stage it became a great night.

It was a few minutes after two o’clock when Dumphries and Zach finally climbed into the car for the ride home. It could be worse, Zach thought. At least I’ll get a couple of hours to sleep after we get there. “Are you okay for driving?” he asked Dumphries. “I was going to try to sleep but I can drive if you want.”

“No, I’m cool,” Dumphries replied. “I didn’t drink much since I knew we’d be splitting early. Anyway, it’s not like you have a driver’s license,” he said with a grin.

There were other ways besides drinking that could have impaired his driving ability but Zach trusted his friend enough to know he didn’t need to ask. “Okay, you mind if I sleep?” he asked. Without waiting for an answer he zipped his coat up the rest of the way and propped his head on the door. Before allowing himself to fall asleep he took stock of the situation. He was extremely thirsty because there had been nothing at the concert for him to drink. He had a mild headache, probably because he was dehydrated. His clothes were muddy and he smelled like smoke, but those were things that could be easily taken care of once he got home. He was on-weight, sober and drug-free. All in all he was in pretty good shape. After resolving never to put himself in a predicament like that again, he drifted off to sleep while Dumphries drove.

~~~

“No! Get real!”

Zach was still half asleep when he heard Dumphries yelling. “Suck it! You bastard!”

Not sure if he was dreaming or not, Zach tried to shift positions but ended up waking himself up in the process.

“I can’t believe it!” Only then did Zach notice that the car was sputtering and jerking. The engine died seconds later. Dumphries guided it onto the side of the road as red lights came to life on the dashboard. “The battery just died!” Dumphries yelled. “And I don’t have my spare!”

“Geez, Toby. You’re kidding, right?” He looked at his watch and saw that it was nearly three-thirty.

“I can’t freaking believe this,” Dumphries said as he banged his fists on the steering wheel.

“Try it again,” Zach suggested.

When Dumphries turned the key they heard the starter chugging but the sound grew feebler by the second. “Once it’s dead, it’s dead. That’s how it always is with this car.”

“This is bad,” Zach said. “Really bad. Now how do we get home?”

“Maybe Joe and Bo will come by soon,” Dumphries said.

“Yeah, and maybe not. They may stay all night for all we know.”

“Look, we just have to find a gas station that has a repair shop,” Dumphries said. “They’ll have a battery we can buy. Stay here and try to sleep in the car. I’ll start walking. I’m pretty sure I saw a huge Exxon around here.”

“I’m not staying here. I’ll come with you. I won’t be able to sleep anyway.”

“Cool. The Jersey Devil comes from around here. We’ll stand a better chance of surviving if there are two of us.”

They locked the car and started walking. There were no crickets or any other wildlife to break the silence. Zach prayed for a car to come by. Besides making him feel less isolated, he hoped they’d get lucky and somebody would give them a ride.

“I hate to say it, but I’ll bet if it was light out we could still see the car,” Dumphries said after they’d walked for twenty minutes. “We haven’t gotten very far.”

“Maybe we should run,” Zach said.

“Yeah. Let’s try it.”

They broke into a jog, running side by side on the empty asphalt roadway. Zach veered across the double yellow line in the center of the road so they occupied both lanes. It wasn’t long before his feet began to ache. Running in loose, heavy boots instead of specially designed sneakers was taking its toll. Dumphries was wearing boots too, though, and he wasn’t complaining, so Zach ignored the pain and kept running.

Dumphries crossed the yellow lines after a few more minutes and grabbed Zach’s coat. “I need a break,” he gasped. They both stopped running and Dumphries bent over at the waist.

“You didn’t last long,” Zach said. “I could do this all night.”

“That’s pretty good, Zach,” Dumphries after he stood back up. “You used to be in sad shape just like me. Now I see what you were doing all summer.”

“Maybe you should go back. You’re out-of-shape ass is slowing me down. Besides, maybe somebody will stop at the car.”

“Okay. Good thinking.”

“But what’ll you do if somebody does stop? Don’t leave me out here in the woods, man.”

“With the Jersey Devil, you mean? Well, if I somehow get the car going I’ll look for you along the road. Just don’t leave this road.”

Zach ran in the black of night without seeing any sign of a gas station. Every quarter-mile he passed what looked in the dark like a produce stand, but nothing else. About twenty-five minutes after leaving Dumphries he saw some light down a side road that intersected the one he was running on. Even though he’d told Dumphries that he wouldn’t, he decided to turn down that road and run to the light. As he got closer he realized that it was a good decision. He’d found a Sunoco station. Judging by the fluorescent lights that bathed it, the station was open.

After reaching the station he approached the steel and glass shed where he saw an attendant leaning back on a chair reading a magazine. The attendant looked nervous, Zach thought. Zach couldn’t blame him. If a muddy, sweaty man appeared out of the darkness and walked directly at him, he’d feel nervous too. “Hey, how’s it going?” Zach called out. The attendant, who wore a shirt with ‘Bill’ scripted over the left pocket, had a baby face that he tried to cover with a patchy beard. He didn’t look much older than Zach.

“Can I help you?” Bill asked. His voice sounded robotic as it was transmitted electronically through the cheap intercom mounted in the window.

“Yeah,” Zach said. “I need a new battery.”

“All we have is gas during overnights,” Bill said without moving a muscle.

“Come on, man. You’ve got to have one around here.”

“I’m only allowed to pump gas.”

Zach could see that the guy couldn’t care less about his problems. He had a commitment to his team, though, and this was his last chance to make good on it. He leaned on the glass, trying to look like he wasn’t in any hurry to leave. “Can’t you look around in there?” he asked pointing to the service bays.

“There aren’t any parts in there. Just tools.”

“I’ve got to have a battery,” Zach said without budging.

Bill shrugged before slowly tipping his chair forward to stand up. “I guess I can take a look. You’ll have to wait outside.” He opened the door and walked past Zach before pulling a ring of keys from his pocket. By the time he reached the other building he’d selected one.

Zach paced between the gas pumps and the service bays as he waited. Three minutes later he emerged empty handed. “They don’t keep batteries in stock. When they need one they order it. There’s nothing I can do for you.”

Zach thought for a second. “How much do you sell a new battery for? If it were daytime, I mean?”

“I don’t know. I’d have to look it up.”

“Is that your car over there?”

“Yeah.”

“I tell you what. I’ll pay you full price for a new battery if you give me the used battery out of your car.”

“Yeah, right,” Bill sneered. “Then what do I do for a battery in my car?”

“Just order a new one, like you were saying. This way you’ve got a brand new battery for nothing.”

“You’re desperate, aren’t you?”

“No kidding, Sherlock. What do you say?”

“Okay, why not? Why wouldn’t I do that? A new battery is a hundred dollars.”

Zach snorted. “You just remembered, huh? Whatever. But I need it fast.” Luckily Fauquier had already handed out shares of their pay for playing in the festival. It was barely enough to cover the cost of the battery. He handed five grimy twenties over without another word.

“There’s a bunch of tools behind you on the table,” Bill said. Zach picked up everything he thought they’d need and they walked over to Bill’s Saturn coupe.

“Do you want me to do it?”

“I don’t know how to do it,” Bill admitted. “I’d probably blow it up.”

“I should charge you for labor.”

Although Zach was no master mechanic, he had spent enough time under the hood to handle a menial task like pulling a battery. As soon as it had been removed Zach was back on the road. He’d never thought about how heavy a car battery was. Whenever one arm felt like it was about to give out he passed it to the other, holding it like a football. Even before he turned back onto the original road both arms ached. He kept going anyway because it was starting to get light out and he was running out of time.

What he could see of the scenery was all the same. The evergreens and the pale strip of sandy soil on each side of the road seemed endless, and he began to worry that he accidentally run past the car without seeing it. Just before he decided to turn around he saw the car about two-hundred feet ahead. He looked at his watch and saw that it was five-thirty. He was exhausted and his nerves were frayed but there was still hope.

When Zach reached the car he could see Dumphries sleeping in the front seat. He rapped on the window and then carried the battery to the front of the car. “You got it?” Dumphries asked. “I never thought you’d make it.”

“Yeah, I got it. Let’s throw it in and get out of here.”

Dumphries got out of the car and opened the hood while Zach dug out the wrench and screwdriver he had slipped into his pocket when Bill wasn’t looking. They disconnected the old battery, removed it from its greasy mount and bolted the new one into place. The engine started up like nothing had ever gone wrong after the terminals were connected. Zach picked up the old battery and heaved it into the woods using a two-handed shot put motion.

“Why’d you do that?” Dumphries asked. “I get a seven-dollar credit when I return the old battery.”

“Bummer. Come on, let’s go.”

At six-thirty they were approaching Chapel Forge Township. There was time before the bus would pull out, but not much. “It’s too late to do anything but go meet the team.”

“Sorry about the car, I feel like I messed you up.”

“It’s okay. I’ll make it. Can we swing by my house? I have my gym bag all packed, sitting by the front door.” He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. It had been a long night, and now he was in for a long day.

Chapter 14

Dumphries drove into the high school parking lot and pulled into a space near the idling bus. Wrestlers were still emerging from nearby cars and walking towards the bus so they knew they weren’t late. Zach had his hands on his gym bag even before the car stopped moving. “I want to get on the bus real quick. I don’t want to parade through the bus looking like this. The less attention I get, the better. Once I sit down I can clean myself up.”

“Okay,” Dumphries said as Zach left the car. He added “good luck,” but the car door slammed shut as he was saying it. Zach gave Dumphries a thumbs-up before walking away. When he stepped onto the sidewalk he saw Coach Crisfield walking from the building toward the bus. His heart sank because he was pretty sure Crisfield was close enough to get a good look.

Bob Lanham appeared from the other direction at the same time Zach did. Zach darted up the steps ahead of him, trying get out of Crisfield’s view. “What happened to you?” Lanham asked after following Zach into the aisle. “You look like you just got out of combat or something.”

“Must have been a wild party,” Easton said when he saw Zach from his customary seat in the front row. Zach burned with anger but he looked down and kept moving.

“Holy cow,” Glen Elg said as Zach passed by. “What happened to you?” Zach didn’t stop until he found an empty seat near the back to flop into. Even before he unzipped his gym bag Tim Betterton poked his head over the back of the seat. “You look pretty bad, Zach. What’s up?”

“Our car broke down, alright? Give me a break. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“I can’t think of anything you don’t smell like.”

“I’ll be okay,” Zach said as he pulled his sweats from the bag. “Are you going to watch me change or what?”

“Nothing I haven’t seen before, Bro. Seriously, are you alright?”

Zach looked at him for a second without saying anything before turning to unlace his boots. There was no use trying to explain. He busied himself with getting cleaned up. Ignoring the snickers of the few wrestlers who knew what he was doing, Zach finished changing out of his filthy clothes and into fresh sweats. His feet looked as bad as they felt. There were blisters on both, and the top of his left foot was bleeding. He steeled himself for the pain and popped each of the blisters, wiping the clear fluid onto his sweat pants. That looks much better, he thought with relief as he gently put his sneakers on. Then he saw Coach Crisfield walking towards the back of the bus. “Here comes the coach,” Zach said to Betterton. “How do I look?”

“Beautiful. But you might want to wipe that grease off your forehead.”

Zach spat on his hand and wiped at his forehead. When Crisfield stopped in the aisle Zach had no idea what his face looked like. “You already changed clothes?” Crisfield asked. “You’re good, I’ll give you that.” He motioned for Zach to slide towards the window and then sat down.

“Zach, what’s going on? You look like you just got in from Woodstock. Are you okay? Can you wrestle?”

“I’m fine, Coach.”

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

“Our car broke down last night.” His voice was unexpectedly hoarse. “The plan was to get home early enough to get some sleep.”

“You didn’t get to bed at all?”

“No, Coach. We pretty much got back just in time to catch this ride.”

“Sweet Jesus. How on earth did you think you could stay out all night partying and then wrestle in the morning? Or maybe you just don’t care.”

“It wasn’t supposed to go this way. The car broke down. And I wasn’t partying. I gave that up.”

Crisfield looked at Zach for a moment. “I believe you. Otherwise I’d stop the bus and throw you out the door. Did this have something to do with that band?”

“Yes. I really tried. I was thinking about the team and the match the whole time. I know I let everybody down.”

“Maybe this match doesn’t mean much to you. But it means a lot to your teammates, and to me. South Beach is in the Star Ledger Top Twenty, and they’re right in the mix for winning the Coast Conference. We really have a shot at them if everything goes right. I’ve never had a team in the Top Twenty.”

“I want to win it too. It wasn’t supposed to work out this way.”

“I’ve had it with this band. Remember when you asked me why I’m singling you out? This is why.”

“Got it, Coach.”

“Darn right you got it. This is it. I don’t have a choice for today. I have to let you wrestle. I won’t penalize the rest of the team for your nonsense. But after today, you choose between this team and that band. You’ve shown me you can’t do both. Now that you’re on varsity I need a total commitment.” He got up and walked back to the front of the bus, which was already chugging north on the new Jersey Turnpike. That was fine with Zach. He was just upset as his coach was and there was nothing left to say.

~~~

“The place is packed,” Kevin Salisbury yelled to the rest of the team, which was lined up behind him and Mark Easton at the gym door. “Don’t get spooked, guys. Just ignore them.” When the team ran into the gym and onto the mat for warm-ups Zach saw the crowd for himself. The bleachers were completely full, including some of the aisles. Coach Crisfield had told them to expect that. Immediately after they wrestled Chapel Forge at ten-thirty, South Beach was taking on bitter rival Sandy Hook in an important Coast Conference match.

The match started out well for Chapel Forge, with a victory at 103. That quieted the crowd, but after the home team won the next three matches, including two by pin, the South Beach fans got louder than ever. Going into the 130 pound match South Beach held a 15-3 lead.

Chapel Forge came up with a narrow victory by decision at 130. At 135 Tim Betterton won easily. He skillfully tacked on two takedowns late in the third period to upgrade his win to a major decision, earning a fourth team point. That tightened the team score to 15-10. South Beach responded with victories at 140 and 145, widening the lead to 21-10. The loss at 145 was painful for Coach Crisfield, who had to watch as Dan Frederick gave up a 3-2 lead when he was reversed in the final seconds.

When Louis Deahle went out on the mat to wrestle the 152 pound match Zach got up and walked behind the bench. He was stiff and tired, and thought he could use the extra time stretching out and warming up. When he got there he saw Easton, who was sitting on the warm-up mat reaching for his toes. This wasn’t the time for bickering. Zach plopped down across the mat from Easton without a word, hoping Easton would go along with the truce.

“If Louis wins we can still win this match,” Easton said. “You and I both have to win, though. Our heavies are just as good as theirs, but we have to catch up before we get there.”

Zach nodded, trying not to look surprised that Easton was being so civil. “I’m ready. What do you know about the guy I’m wrestling?”

“Nothing. But that’s probably good. You’re not getting a two-time state champ or anything.”

“What about your guy?”

“Same thing. I’ve never heard of him.”

“Maybe we can do it.”

“If you’re not too tired,” Easton shot back.

“I’m fine. It’s only six minutes.”

“Tell me that after you walk off the mat,” Easton said. “Look out for the switch when you’re on top. This team always goes for the switch. If he goes for it, do a limp-arm if you can’t step over it. Do you know the limp-arm?”

“No,” Zach admitted.

Easton crawled over to Zach. “Let’s get in referee’s position and I’ll hit a switch. But I’ll stop after I sit through.” Zach took the top position and waited for Easton to move.

“Okay, now, you’ve still got your arm around my waist, right?” Easton asked. “It isn’t doing you any good anymore. But it’s helping me. I’m using it for leverage, right? That’s how I’ll swing behind you. So all you have to do is let go and turn your arm the other way so I can’t use it to swing around on. Make it go limp so I can’t hang on it anymore.”

Zach tried it. It was hard to tell if it worked or not. “Like that?” he asked.

“Yup,” Easton said. “It doesn’t look like much but it works. If you can do it in time he’ll have to bail on his switch. Just try stepping over again, or if you have to, let him escape.” Zach noticed over Easton’s shoulder that Coach Crisfield was looking back from the bench at them. He nodded when he saw that Zach was looking back.

The 152 pound match had progressed to the second period at that point, so Easton got up and began removing his warm-ups. Zach stayed on the floor where he resumed stretching. When it was almost time for Easton to wrestle Zach stood up and walked over to him. “Do it, man,” he said. “Then I will.” Easton nodded as he snapped his headgear into place. Deahle had won a close match at 152, making the team score 21-13. The dual meet was turning out to be closer than anybody had expected.

Zach kept an eye on Easton’s match while he prepared for his own. It didn’t look like Easton was going to have much trouble. He nearly pinned his opponent in the first period, and ended the second period with an 8-1 lead. Coach Hancock came back to see Zach as the third period began. “Go get him at the whistle, Zach, do you hear me?” he said. “We’re still in this thing. Don’t go out there and wrestle tired. You can rest after the match.”

“I don’t feel tired,” Zach said.

“Good,” Hancock said. He looked like he wanted to say more but they were interrupted by the slap of the referee’s hand on the mat. They looked up in time to see Easton stand up and pump a fist through the air celebrating his pin. With the team score now at 21-19, Chapel Forge was within striking distance going into Zach’s match at 171.

When Zach walked onto the mat he knew he should be tired but all he could feel was the nervous excitement of competition. For the first half of the initial period he and his opponent, Rob Dade, circled each other looking for an opening. Then Dade reached for a tie up and appeared to be looking for a headlock. “Get out of there Zach!” shouted Crisfield. Zach tried but couldn’t. If this guy’s a headlock freak, somebody should have told me earlier, he thought. Sure enough, Dade tightened his grip and threw the headlock. Zach felt himself roll onto his back. The referee started counting back points. Zach’s movement across his back had slowed but didn’t completely stop. He sensed that Dade had gone too hard, and was able to continue rolling through onto his stomach. It had been a quick count, Zach thought, but the referee awarded two back points to Dade to go along with the two for the takedown. The first period ended with Zach on the short end of a 4-0 score.

Zach was on top for the second period. Dade stood up when the whistle blew and immediately pivoted in an attempted standing switch. Instead of fighting it off Zach chose to let Dade escape. Then he shot immediately and swept up one of Dade’s legs. Dade had no choice but to turn away and fall to the mat as Zach lifted the leg higher and higher. That cut the deficit to 5-2.

As the two continued to battle on the mat Zach heard Easton yelling “Watch the switch!” from the bench. Dade instead tried another standup. Zach held tight at his waist and pulled him back down to the mat. Then Dade did go to the switch. Just when it seemed that he would slip behind for two Zach tried the limp-arm counter that Easton had shown him. It stopped Dade right where he was, in a sitting position, because Zach’s arm no longer provided any leverage for whipping behind. Seeing an opportunity, Zach lunged at Dade. He over hooked the close arm and under hooked the far arm, then drove Dade onto his back. Zach was able to hold Dade down long enough for three back points, tying the match up at 5 apiece.

Seconds later Dade had worked off his back and into the base position. Zach wasn’t surprised that he went to the switch again, but wasn’t able to stop it this time. When the period ended Zach still trailed, but only by 7-5.

Between periods Zach was breathing hard. After walking as slowly as he could back to the center of the mat, trying to gain as many extra breaths as possible, he settled into the bottom position. “Up and out, Zach,” Crisfield called. “You’ve got to get out!”

Before Zach could do anything Dade grabbed his ankle and drove him to his stomach. Next he put in a simple half nelson and came out to the side. Zach fought hard but Dade slowly turned him onto his back. Zach never felt he was in danger of being pinned but he panicked when he heard the referee start counting off. Like he had in the first period, he suddenly rolled hard across his own back and back to his stomach. Dade was awarded two more back points but Zach was relieved, knowing it could have been worse.

He looked at the clock and saw that there were fifty seconds left. By then he was gassed, but he could tell Dade was tired too. Aware that he was down by four points, he moved quickly up to his hands and knees and took Dade’s wrist. He sat out and turned in, looking for a Peterson roll that could earn him four or five points. It wasn’t there. Knowing what Zach was looking for, Dade decided to play it safe and let Zach go, surrendering one point. With thirty seconds left Zach was behind 9-6.

Dade took his time moving back to the center of the mat, trying to run off as many seconds as possible. Zach decided to go for the takedown he felt most comfortable with, the fireman’s carry. He faked a tie up but kept Dade’s arm. Wondering if there was enough time left, he lowered his level and threw his other arm into Dade’s crotch. So far, so good, he thought. He followed through, pulling Dade down to the mat on his side. The noise level in the gym escalated drastically when the referee awarded a takedown that cut Dade’s lead to 9-8.

Zach could see that Dade was in a vulnerable position lying on his side. Retaining the arm, he quickly moved up and converted his grip into an arm bar. The hold Zach had in place felt dangerously loose but there wasn’t enough time to make everything perfect.

He was vaguely aware of the roar of the crowd exhorting their wrestler to hold on. “Run it! Run it!” yelled Crisfield and everybody else on the Chapel Forge bench. Zach came out the side and drove across as hard as he could. He could feel his wrestling shoes digging into South Beach’s spongy mat. Dade fought hard but couldn’t stop himself from being cranked onto his back. Zach heard the referee counting. “One,” he barked. After what seemed like far longer than a second had passed he heard “Two”. He heard “Three,” a split second before the buzzer sounded. As Zach yanked his arm out the referee signaled for two back points. He had been behind for the entire match but had come back to beat Dade by a score of 10-9. That put Chapel Forge in the lead by a slim 22-21 margin.

Zach threw his fists in the air. When he looked at his teammates they were all clapping and celebrating wildly. He shook hands with Dade and walked back to the bench, stumbling on the edge of the mat which had curled up off the floor. “That’s the way Zach!” Crisfield said loudly before turning to coach the 189-pound match. For the next thirty seconds Zach was backslapped, hugged and high-fived. He knew instantly that it was one of the greatest moments of his life.

Two of the remaining Chapel Forge wrestlers won, and when the dual meet was over Chapel Forge had upset South Beach by a score of 28-24. Zach knew his coach was still disappointed in him, but at least he hadn’t let the team down. He felt good about what had happened between him and Easton, too. Maybe the other wrestlers would stop treating him like an outsider, he thought. Even after Easton yelled “How about that Burnout!” in the locker room Zach found a way to keep feeling good about how it had turned out.

~~~

On the ride home Crisfield found Zach, who was sitting alone staring out the window. The fatigue had finally caught up to him. “Zach, that was a smart match. I know how tired you must have been but you found a way. I’m proud of what you did.”

His coach had made all sound so simple. “Thanks Coach. There’s no way I was going to let the team down, especially after I screwed up so bad.”

“I meant what I said before, Zach. You have to make a choice. I’m sorry to lean on you but I’ve got to do what’s right for the team.”

“I’ll figure something out.”

“Zach, the band will always be there. But this is the only time you’ll ever get to be a high school wrestler. You’ve got the potential to be a darn good one. I really hope you decide to stay with us.” He smacked Zach on the thigh and stood up. “I’d really like to talk with your mom and dad about it.”

“My dad?” Zach spat back. “You want to talk to my dad? So do I. I’ve never seem him myself. Good luck finding him.”

“Oh,” he said. “I apologize, Zach. I should have known that.”

“No sweat.”

“Okay Zach. Nice job out there today. Maybe we’ll be ranked after this one, huh?” he said with a smile before walking back to whatever seat he’d come from. Zach watched the scenery for about another minute before he fell asleep.

Chapter 15

Zach woke up a few minutes before the bus reached the school. Before anybody got off Coach Crisfield stood at the front and reminded everybody about the match they’d be hosting that evening. “They don’t have a JV team and they forfeit a lot of weight classes on varsity,” he said. “We probably won’t be here long. Just make sure you stay on weight. Every match counts at seeding time, even the forfeits.”

They didn’t need to get back to the school until six o’clock, which was almost four hours away. As he stood up to exit the bus he knew he’d be doing only one thing that afternoon. Sleep. There was no point in following everybody inside and into the locker room. Instead, he set off on foot in the other direction, towards home.

His mom was bustling around the house preparing for work when Zach walked in. “I won, Mom,” he said, sparing her the awkward chore of trying to find out without coming right out and asking. “10 to 9.”

“That’s great, baby! I wish I could have seen it. You know I’ll always be there when I don’t have to work, don’t you?”

“Yeah Mom, I know. I wish you didn’t have to work so much.”

“It’s not so bad. I just don’t want to miss seeing you grow up.”

“Hey, Mom. Where do you think my dad is?”

She had been fumbling around in her purse, looking like she was about to leave, but when she heard that she put it down and walked over to the couch where he had collapsed. “Where in the world did that come from? You’ve never asked about him before. Not even once.”

“Coach told me he wanted to talk to my mom and dad. It was embarrassing.”

She bent down and touched his cheek. “Forget about your dad, Zach. That’s the best thing you can do. You have a crummy father just like I have a crummy husband.”

Zach saw his mother’s teardrop hit the carpet between his feet. “Have?” he asked, looking up. “But you’re not still married are you?”

“It takes two people to have a divorce,” she said as she wiped her eyes. “He didn’t stay around long enough to get it done. There’s probably a way for me to do it myself but I never bothered. It probably costs too much money. Last I heard, and it was by accident, he was somewhere up near Boston.”

“Sorry, Mom. I shouldn’t have brought it up. You better go, you’ll be late.”

“No, I’m sorry, Zach. What did your coach want to talk about?”

“He wants me to quit the band.”

“That reminds me. What time did you get in last night? I didn’t hear you coming or going.”

He told her the entire story of how the previous night had gone. When he was done there was no need to explain why Crisfield was unhappy.

“Well, Zach, if he forces it,” she said, “You’ll have to make a choice.”

“He’s forcing it. I know what I should do but I hate to let Toby and the guys down.”

“It’s just for the rest of the season. Right?”

“Yeah, I guess. Until next season. But I don’t think they want to wait that long for me to come back. They already have my replacement lined up.”

“Wow. That’s pretty crappy.” She looked at her watch. “Uh oh, I’ve got to run,” she said. “We’ll talk about this later, okay? If you want to, I mean.”

“Sure, Mom.” After she was gone he stripped off his top layer of clothing and slid into bed. Only then did he realize that he was about to take a nap in a Chapel Forge Township High School singlet.

~~~

Chapel Forge won the evening match by a lopsided score. Zach had something to do with the result as he scored a second period pin. That meant that he had run off a string of five straight wins since losing on opening day. Not too bad for a burnout, he thought as he dressed after the match. He was pretty content with how the day had gone, especially because of its disastrous beginning. The sight of Beth Ellicott in the bleachers during the evening match somehow made it even better.

“Okay, listen up,” Coach Crisfield said when everybody was ready to leave. “Everybody have a great Christmas. Don’t forget to get your miles in. We’ll practice the day after Christmas at nine. Be here at seven the day after that for the trip over to Pennsylvania. I’ve got extra copies of the paperwork for anybody who needs it. It’s got details on the tournament and on the motel we’re staying at on Friday and Saturday nights.”

~~~

“Gents, it turns out that we’re working next weekend after all,” Fauquier said when everybody had arrived for Sunday band practice. “I got us a gig for Friday, Saturday and Sunday night.”

A knot instantly materialized in Zach’s stomach. There was no way that he was going to make it to any of those gigs because he was going to be wrestling in Pennsylvania’s Coal Region. Funny thing was, Fauquier knew all about that because they had talked about it less than a week earlier.

“Where at?” Herndon asked.

“A new club opening up on South Street,” Fauquier said. “A friend of a friend is part owner. It’s half nightclub, half concert hall. Perfect for us. They’re trying to get bands booked at the last minute for New Year’s weekend. I thought it might be good exposure. There are lots of record industry power guys over there but they don’t get out of Philadelphia much. So the club gets live music and we get stage time. Pretty good deal.”

“That’s the deal? How about money?” Dumphries asked. “Do we get any of that out of it? Or are you just doing people favors?”

“Maybe next time, if we go back. We weren’t working anyway, Toby. At least we’ll be on stage instead of paying to watch somebody else play some place else. Look at it that way.”

“You booked us to play for free?” Herndon asked. “For three nights in a row? What, are you nuts?”

“Nope. I have a plan, unlike you guys. It isn’t always just about money.”

“Why did you do this?” Zach asked. “You know I’m not around this weekend. We just got done talking about it.”

“Maybe it slipped my mind,” Fauquier answered.

“Bull. Why don’t you just come out and say it?”

“Say what?”

“That I’m out of the band. Your bringing your buddy in to take my place. Shiny, or whatever his name is.”

“Well, I want to keep moving forward,” Fauquier said.

“That’s what you call free jobs in some club that nobody’s ever heard of?” Zach asked. “Just admit it. You’re doing this to get me out. Quit being a weasel about it.”

“Joe, what gives?” Dumphries asked. “What were you thinking we could do without Zach?”

“The world doesn’t revolve around Zach. Glimmer can do all three shows. I already checked.”

“What a surprise,” Zach said.

“That guy blows!” Herndon said. “He can’t sing and he can’t play. Who are you kidding? We can’t go on stage like that!”

“Joe, don’t you think you should have run this by us?” Dumphries asked.

“Look, the opportunity was there,” Fauquier said calmly. “So I grabbed it before it was gone.”

“Opportunity? Come on,” Herndon scoffed. “There’s no other band around dumb enough to take this deal.”

“This is how it’s going to be, guys,” Fauquier said. “That’s all there is to it. Glimmer will sing and I’ll find somebody else to sit in on bass.”

“You mean we’re splitting our take five ways instead of four?” Herndon asked. “Let’s see, what’s zero divided by five?”

“Yeah, good point,” Dumphries said.

“So do you even want me to practice with you guys today?” Zach asked.

“Of course,” Fauquier said. “You’re still in the band.”

“Not really,” Zach said. “What’s the point?” It would have been the perfect time for him to announce that he was dropping out for the rest of the season, but something inside told him to keep his mouth shut. Wrestling was important to him, maybe even more important than the band. He’d put a lot of time and sweat into the band too, though. It just didn’t feel right to pull the plug yet. Not until he absolutely had to.

“Are you okay with this, Zach?” Dumphries asked.

“Not really,” Zach said. “I don’t even know why I’m here today. Joe wants this new guy to take my place.”

“We’re not kicking you out,” Fauquier said. “You’re getting all pissy over nothing.”

“I’m not. I said it’s cool.”

“Are we having a practice or not?” Herndon asked. Before anybody could answer he flipped the switch on his amplifier and cranked out the opening chords of ‘Fire House.’ Dumphries and Fauquier followed the unwritten rule and joined in. Zach didn’t. He unplugged from his amplifier and walked outside with his bass still strapped across his front. The song sounded odd without lyrics and a bass line. Somehow that was comforting to Zach.

The door opened and closed again after Zach had unstrapped the bass and taken a seat on the steps. “Hi,” Jeanine said as she sat down next to him. He hadn’t even known she was in the house. “I heard what happened,” she said, putting her arm around his shoulder. “Don’t freak out about it, okay, Honey?”

Zach leaned away far enough that she pulled her arm back. “I’m not freaking out. Why does everybody keep saying that?”

“Do you know what karma is?”

“Just leave me alone for a minute, okay?” he snapped. “I’m not in the mood right now.”

She turned and looked him in the eye, something she didn’t do very often. For once she had nothing to say. He looked down between his feet, trying to find the right way to say he was sorry. Nothing came to mind so he stared at the concrete and said nothing as she got up and went back inside. When the song was over he went in and finished practice, wondering if it would be his last.

Chapter 16

When Zach stepped on the scale before practice the day after Christmas he wasn’t surprised that his weight had risen to 175 because he’d eaten so much. Knowing he had to get down to 171 for the tournament, he threw on an extra layer of sweats. That made practice in the Fire House even tougher than usual. The session ended with an extended round robin session. Zach was so hot afterwards that he tore off everything he was wearing except for the gym shorts and threw it all into a pile on the mat while Coach Crisfield filled the team in on the next day’s travel schedule.

Forty-five minutes later he walked out of the locker room feeling better about the tournament. A long hot shower and a weigh-out at 170.5 had cheered him up significantly. When he reached the gym lobby he saw Beth Ellicott squatting in front of the trophy case, squinting as if she was trying to read the inscriptions on some of the ancient plaques. She stood up and smiled at Zach when he came closer. He wondered if she’d been waiting for him, and hoped that she had.

“Hi!” she said. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah,” Zach said. “I guess we’ve both been busy, huh?”

“I saw in the paper that you’re 5 and 1.”

“I’m doing alright so far. That one loss was pretty bad, though. You saw it.”

“I know you’re going to Pennsylvania tomorrow but you’re coming back on Sunday,” she said. “Mark is coming to Kate Harford’s New Year’s Party. I was wondering if you’re coming too.”

“Sunday night? Yeah, we’ll be back.”

“You should come. It’ll be fun. Kate’s little brother’s band is playing. Maybe you can give them some pointers.”

“Are you going?”

“Yeah. That’s why I hoped you were.”

“I’d like that. My band is playing that night but I think they kicked me out.”

“No! You were saying that before but I didn’t think they would!”

“They didn’t exactly kick me out but they’re playing without me all weekend. It took two guys to replace me,” he bragged.

“You must be good.”

“Must be,” he agreed.

“Maybe you can start another band,” she suggested.

“But I’d still have the same problem. Wrestling and the band are just too much.”

“You would know,” she said. “I’ve got to go. Talk to Mark about the party, okay?”

“We don’t talk much. But I’ll see what I can find out. See you there.”

~~~

That night Zach received a phone call from Bo Herndon. “Zach, I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry about how everything went at practice. That sucked. You know me. I’m just along for the ride. Nobody ever asks me about anything.”

“Thanks Bo. You don’t have to say that. It’s my own doing. I know you guys can’t sit around waiting for me.”

“Yeah, but it still stinks. I’ll miss you if you don’t come back.”

“Maybe we’ll put it all back together after the season.”

“Yeah, who knows,” Herndon answered. “All I know is ’Fire House’ just doesn’t sound right without you.”

~~~

For the long ride to Mt. Carmel, Pennsylvania, Zach was hoping the team would travel in style but that turned out not to be. “We’re doing this trip on a low budget,” Crisfield said. Coach Hancock, who worked as a professional cabinetmaker, had emptied out his panel truck before driving to the high school. Both of the coaches, the fourteen varsity wrestlers and all of their luggage and equipment would make the trip in the truck with ‘Hancock Woodworking’ stenciled on the side. There weren’t even any seats in the back. The grumpy wrestlers scrunched up some of the canvas tarps they found and used them in various ways to make themselves as comfortable as possible. Heavyweight Bob Lanham didn’t help matters by taunting and laughing his way through two sandwiches and a bag of potato chips as his weight-cutting teammates tried not to watch. Everybody was relieved when they checked into the seedy strip motel just off the freeway in Mt. Carmel as the sun was going down.

The tournament included seven local teams as well as Chapel Forge. In the first round of the tournament Zach faced Tom Bradenton of host Mt. Carmel. Bradenton, who was short and pudgy, looked to Zach like somebody who needed to drop down at least two weight classes to have any chance at all of ever winning a match. He didn’t present much of a challenge to Zach, who nursed the match into the third period only because he needed the workout to ensure that he made weight the next morning. With fewer than thirty seconds left on the clock and a 14-0 lead, Zach finally finished Bradenton off by pinning him with a painful double-arm bar.

Later that night the wrestlers gathered in one of the four motel rooms the team had taken. Some of them watched a college basketball game on television. Others played cards. Zach stretched out on one of the beds, ignoring the chatter of his teammates. He amused himself by wadding up pages he tore from the phone book and trying to toss them into the waste can. Joe and the guys are probably tuning up and getting ready to go on, he guessed. That included Glimmer and whatever bass player they could scrounge up. He felt sad knowing they were going on stage without him.

“You’re in for a real beating tomorrow,” Mark Easton said to Zach, interrupting his thoughts. “You’re wrestling Jack Sonville. He lost in the Pennsylvania state finals last year. If I were you I’d be happy just to score a point.”

Easton had moved into Zach’s sight line. Zach sat up and threw the ball of paper over Easton’s head and against the wall, hoping it would carom into the can. He craned his neck around Easton but was unable to see whether he succeeded. “You worry too much,” he told Easton.

“It’s your neck, not mine,” Easton said with a shrug.

“You’re always so worried about how good the other guy is,” Zach said. “Who cares? You’ll find out when the match starts. Stop researching everything and just go out and wrestle.”

“You have to scout the opposition, moron. You think you’re some kind of wrestling expert now?”

“That’s not scouting. You’re always trying to decide who to be afraid of. It’s like you’re afraid to disturb the natural order of wrestling.”

“Natural order? Are you drugged out or something?”

“Stop trying to decide who you’re allowed to beat. Otherwise you’ll never beat anybody who’s any good. It’s common sense. Just get out there and kick somebody’s tail, stop worrying so much.” Zach smiled. “Do you know what karma is?”

“Karma?”

“Just kidding,” Zach said. “Somebody asked me that the other day.”

Easton scowled and started to walk away, shaking his head. “How do you think I could beat you all of a sudden?” Zach called out to him. “That didn’t fit into your natural order, did it?”

“You just got lucky at the right time,” Easton said. “And you know it.”

“Nope,” Zach said. “My secret weapon is that I don’t give a crap. I’m not afraid of anybody. And you know it. But you, you’re afraid of your own shadow. And of me.”

“Are you done now?” Easton asked. “That’s the biggest load of crud I ever heard. It sure won’t help you tomorrow.”

“Yeah it will,” Zach said. “When I look this guy in the eye he’ll know it won’t be easy. Guys like him would rather wrestle guys like you because you follow the script.”

“I’m the best guy on the team,” Easton said.

“In some ways, maybe,” Zach answered.

There was a knock at the door. After it was opened a group of wrestler dads streamed in. Zach figured they were checking up on their sons, making sure they weren’t getting into too much trouble while enjoying their first tastes of freedom in their own motel rooms. Most of them tried not to make eye contact with Zach as they buzzed around the room handing out money and praising their son’s efforts on the mat. He kicked the phone book onto the floor before lying back on the bed and closing his eyes.

~~~

The next morning Zach squared off with Sonville, a senior from Shamokin High School, on a mat that just happened to be in front of the Shamokin section. Zach didn’t think he’d ever seen so many people in the same place wearing purple. He could feel Sonville’s physical strength when the two were tied up for most of the first period. In the last fifteen seconds Sonville locked his arms around Zach’s torso, blocked a leg and tripped him to the mat, scoring the only two points of the period.

For the second period Zach chose to start in the bottom position. He sat out and turned in hard. Surprisingly, everything he was looking for was right where he’d hoped. He retained Sonville’s right wrist and hooked Sonville’s right leg with his own left arm. He then put his ear on the mat and rolled sideways, putting Sonville on his back with a Peterson Roll.

Or so he thought. The referee didn’t signal any points for Zach’s reversal, nor did he start counting any back points. Confused, Zach looked over to Coach Crisfield, who was already complaining. “That’s a Peterson! Where’s the reversal?” he asked the referee loudly with his arms spread wide. In the meantime, Sonville had carefully maneuvered onto his side and was pushing Zach onto his own back. When it was clear that the referee was about to start counting off back points for Sonville, Zach shifted out of danger. The period ended with no change in position and no change in score.

There was no wrestling for a few minutes while Crisfield argued with the referee at the scorer’s table. “There’s probably a picture of that move in the rule book!” Crisfield yelled. “How can you not call that?” Zach couldn’t hear the referee’s reply. Hancock, who could see that arguing wasn’t doing any good, got between Crisfield and the referee and gently pushed him away. The discussion was over, and the referee walked back to restart the match.

Zach, who still trailed 2-0, was in the top position for the third period. That didn’t last long. He tried a cradle but Sonville extended his body enough to prevent Zach from locking hands. When Zach had committed himself to staying high, near Sonville’s shoulders, Sonville backed out between Zach’s legs. Zach was forced to let go, surrendering two points for a reversal.

Now in the bottom position, Zach tried a standup and then a switch but was unable to score. At least I’m keeping him from attacking, Zach thought. I’ve got to keep moving. He sat out and turned in, remembering that he had been able to hit a move that way earlier. This time, instead of stopping underneath and locking in the leg for a Peterson Roll, he kept turning until he was out from under Sonville. When he let go of Sonville’s wrist and grabbed him from behind with a tight waist grip the referee signaled a reversal. With a minute to go Zach had cut the lead to 4-2.

Sonville immediately escaped with a standup, earning a point. Before Zach had decided what to do next Sonville came hard with the same body lock that he’d taken Zach down with earlier. Again he was able to trip Zach, this time onto his back. Zach felt Sonville effortlessly switch his grip to an under hook while securing Zach’s leg with his own at the same time. Zach was completely immobilized on his own back. He arched to keep his shoulder blades off the mat while looking for a way out. There was none. The match finally ended as a 10-2 victory for Sonville.

“You’ve really come a long way,” Hancock told Zach later, when the team was warming up together for the next tournament session. “That kid’s a sure state champ next March in Hershey. It was much closer than the score. That was anybody’s match until the last minute. You can’t ask for anything more than that.” Zach winked at Easton, who was listening intently from fifteen feet away.

Down in the consolation bracket Zach pinned his next opponent easily with a first-period cradle. That put him in the consolation finals, which were wrestled that evening. In that match, which determined who finished in third place, Zach lost to Pete Dunedin of Lourdes Regional High School in a wild 22-16 match that featured several lead changes. Zach felt he had his opponent pinned twice but the referee saw things differently both times. After Dunedin’s hand was raised he reached over and raised Zach’s hand to the crowd in a gesture of respect. Zach appreciated it but he’d rather have won the match.

The only positive he took from the match was that he had scored points consistently for six minutes. It finally felt to him like all the training he’d done was beginning to show. A fourth place medal in a Pennsylvania tournament was something he knew he should feel good about. While watching the tournament finals, which included wins by Betterton and Lanham as well as a tight loss by Easton, Zach decided that he was happy with the way the trip to Pennsylvania had turned out.

Laying in bed that night Zach thought again about his band mates at the club in Philadelphia. Once they got used to the new members he knew he’d be missed less and less. Dumphries was his best friend, but he hadn’t even called Zach after that last ugly practice to see how he was holding up. His days with the band were probably over, he thought sadly.

On the other hand, wrestling was going as well as he could have hoped. He had won seven matches, against only three losses. Although he hated losing, he didn’t feel too badly about it given the caliber of wrestlers that had beaten him. But every time he felt good about the wrestling, something reminded him that he was out of the band. He drifted off to sleep as he wondered if he’d made the right decision about which of his passions to follow.

Chapter 17

As the truckload of Chapel Forge wrestlers rolled east toward New Jersey on Sunday morning Zach thought about the New Year’s party that Beth Ellicott had mentioned. If he didn’t go he knew he’d be sitting at home moping about the band. Besides, he thought, he liked hanging out with Beth even if he couldn’t remember whose party it was. It could be fun. He decided to go.

The only problem was that he didn’t know where or when the party would be held. All Beth had told him was that Mark Easton knew all about it. Going to Easton for information wasn’t something he wanted to do. If he was going to do it, though, it would never be easier to do than when he and Easton were sprawled across the floor in the back of the truck with nowhere to go and nothing to do.

“Hey Mark,” Zach said after crawling over to the corner that Easton had crammed himself into. “Beth Ellicott told me about a New Year’s party that you know all about. It’s Tuesday night, right?”

“Yeah,” Easton said. “Most New Year’s parties are on New Year’s Eve. Hey, I think that’s the first time you ever called me by my real name.”

“Where exactly is the party? I think I’m going.”

“You? At a party? Now that’s something that’s not hard to picture.”

Zach fought the urge to snap back the way he usually did. “I told Beth I’d come by. I didn’t think I was going to, but I changed my mind.”

“This may not be your kind of party,” Easton warned. “There won’t be any pot or biker dudes.”

Zach laughed. “Biker dudes?”

“It might seem tame to you. You’re used to big-time serious partying.”

“How do you know what I’m used to? I’ve been straight up for almost a year now. I swear, man. You can’t wrestle doing that stuff. I’ve been dying for a smoke since last April but I haven’t had one.”

“Take it easy. I can tell. I’m just busting your chops. I knew you were invited. She didn’t think you’d come.”

It jarred Zach every time he was reminded that Easton and Beth were friends. “She took the time to invite me so I don’t want to be rude. She probably won’t even know if I’m there or not.”

“She’ll know if you’re there. Trust me. I’ve seen her when you’re around. Chicks are good at pretending not to notice. But she always finds you when you’re nearby, doesn’t she?”

“I’m not very good at that kind of stuff.”

“Who is? When it comes to chicks, we’re all at their mercy.”

Zach smiled. “I thought it was just me.”

“It’s Kate Harford’s party. She’s just like Beth, plays on all the girl’s teams. I’m pretty sure she lives over by Liddy’s Garden Center on Cross Key Road. I was going to call around to find out for sure.”

“Cool.”

“What was it like wrestling Sonville?” Easton asked. “He’s pretty tough, huh?”

Zach snorted. “I thought I was doing pretty good. Then all of a sudden it was ten to two.”

“You did good. You kept it close until the third period.”

“I couldn’t believe that ref didn’t give me the call on the Peterson,” Zach said. “I had it in all the way.”

“I’ve seen that before,” Easton said. “Some refs call it no matter what. Some only call it if you put the guy flat on his back right away. And some guys just don’t call it at all.”

“I guess I had one of those.”

“Salisbury had a ref like that down in Virginia last summer,” Easton said. “But it was with back points. Kevin must have tilted him five different ways, but the guy wouldn’t give him any back points. But as soon as he used a half nelson he got back points right away. Maybe they just don’t like our ‘city boy’ moves out here in the country.”

“I didn’t know they could do that,” Zach said.

“They can’t. But they do anyway.”

Another minute passed as Zach tried to think of a way to ask for a ride to the party without actually asking. “So this party’s over on Cross Key Road, you said?”

“Somewhere around there,” Easton said. “There aren’t any houses on Cross Key so it must be one of the side streets. You could just drive around until you see the crowd.”

“I don’t have my license,” Zach said quickly, seeing an opportunity.

“No joke? I never would have guessed it.”

“No joke. I wouldn’t have a car to drive anyway. We only have one and my mom needs it.”

“Why do I get the feeling you’re fishing around for a ride?”

“Yeah, pretty much. I don’t know where it is and I don’t know how I’d get there.”

Easton agreed to pick Zach up at his house and take him to the party. Zach was surprised that he’d been able to make the offer happen. It hadn’t been very long since he and Easton were literally trying to rip each other apart. Zach drew a map showing how to get to his house, and scrawled his phone number at the bottom. Then they both lay back down and closed their eyes.

~~~

Dumphries came by Zach’s house that afternoon. It still annoyed Zach that Dumphries hadn’t bothered to call to see how he was doing. Even Herndon had. “Hey,” he said as he opened the door to let Dumphries in.

“Hey,” Dumphries answered. “How was the tournament?”

“It was cool. I came in fourth out of eight guys. Want some water?”

“No, man, thanks.”

“How did the gigs go? Did you find a bass player?”

“Joe rustled somebody up. He was okay. I don’t even know his name.”

“And of course Shiny was there too?”

“He was there. It’s like having two Joes on stage. Bo told them he wasn’t sure which one’s prettier.”

Zach laughed. “So was it good? Are you guys sticking with the new lineup?”

“For tonight, at least. I’m still planning on you coming back.”

“I didn’t go anywhere. You guys dumped me.”

Dumphries said nothing. Zach hadn’t really meant what he said. He knew he’d left them with no choice but to replace him. He’d only said it because he hoped his friend would say something to make him feel like he was still wanted in the band. When Dumphries didn’t, Zach began to wonder how temporary the new arrangement was after all. Maybe he wasn’t the only one with hurt feelings.

~~~

“You live here?” Easton asked when Zach came to the door two nights later. It was almost nine o’clock, and Zach had begun to think Easton had changed his mind and wasn’t coming. “I never knew anybody lived in these old houses. Or it was just old people or something.”

“My mom and I have lived here since elementary school,” Zach said.

“What about your dad?”

“Never knew him. He split when I was born.”

“Oh. Sorry. Well at least it’s close enough to walk to school.”

“Sometimes that’s a bad thing.” He noticed the gleaming black Ford Excursion that Easton had parked in front of the house. “Nice wheels. Is that yours?”

“For the most part. It’s my dad’s, really, but he always drives his other car. I always let him have it back when it needs gas.”

Zach thought Easton was a little overdressed in his button down shirt and khakis but he didn’t say anything. After all, he had more experience at these kinds of parties with these kinds of kids than Zach did. Besides, Easton probably thought Zach looked too sloppy in his flannel shirt and scuffed boots.

“So, like, who else lives around here?” Easton asked. “Anybody I know?”

“I doubt it,” Zach said. “I don’t know any of my neighbors myself.”

“I called around and found out what street the party’s on,” Easton said once they were on their way. “I don’t know how late you want to stay. If we don’t hook up you might have to find your own ride home.”

“That’s cool,” Zach said. “I’m used to it.”

When they turned off Cross Key Road Zach was unfazed at the size of the houses because he’d seen it before. He could see in the floodlights that bathed them that many had brick faces, but that was where the similarity with his house ended. These looked like miniature mansions. Nearly all had three-car garages with entrances on the side. He wondered if Easton lived in a neighborhood like this. No wonder he was surprised at where I live, Zach thought. My house could fit inside one of these garages.

When they walked in the door at the Harford house it was still reasonably quiet because it was early. Beth appeared immediately and hugged both Easton and Zach. “I’m so glad you came!” she said, looking mostly at Zach when she said it. She walked him around and introduced him to some friends. Zach had seen most of them around school but didn’t know any of them. He felt awkward and out of place as he was introduced to more people, most of whom were dressed like Easton. This was not the crowd that he usually hung out with. Nobody seemed to recognize him as Zach Bowie, the long-haired rocker that always did just enough to get by. Just like at school, most seemed to think he was just some wrestler that they’d never noticed before.

Zach was relieved at how easy it was to walk past the keg in the basement without slowing down. According to everything he’d read during his crash course on dieting, drinking beer would have a disastrous effect on the weigh-ins that he faced in the near future. Even more importantly, he feared the taste would weaken his resolve and lead to something even more harmful. Instead he opened one of the bottles of Poland Spring that he found on a table nearby.

While standing uncomfortably sipping the water he heard the familiar sounds of musicians tuning up. He walked into the next room and found a band setting up for a show. They looked to be junior high school age. At least he’d found somebody he identified with even if they were a few years younger. He walked over and introduced himself.

“I’ve been doing this for years,” he told them as he waved towards the makeshift stage. He saw no reason to mention that his band was playing that very night without him.

“What do you play, rock?” Brian Harford asked.

“Yup, pretty much,” Zach answered. It turned out that Brian played bass too. They spent a few minutes feeling each other out, each trying to assess the other. Brian looked like a younger version of most of the kids upstairs. Zach wasn’t sure if he was a jock who liked to play rock music or a musician with an athletic sister. Brian probably didn’t know yet either.

“My sister said we should start at ten,” Brian said. “You should hang out. If you want you could sing a few with us.”

When they started with a cover of a Bon Jovi song Zach was disappointed at how much he disliked the music. It wasn’t that they didn’t play well. Nor was it the high-pitched voice of the pubescent singer, although that was something he could do without. He wasn’t sure what was wrong but he just didn’t enjoy it the way he usually did. Maybe he was just tired from a weekend of wall-to-wall wrestling away from home. Or maybe he just didn’t want to be there. He slipped away carefully when nobody was watching.

He wandered through groups of kids, looking unsuccessfully for somebody he felt comfortable with. Eventually he came across Beth, who was standing in the kitchen. For first time he noticed how slim, almost frail, she looked in her tight jeans, especially in comparison to the bulkier athletic girls that were around her as he watched.

It was only ten-thirty but he made an on-the-spot decision. “I don’t feel good,” he told her after she walked over. “I think I better go home.”

She pulled him gently away from the group. “What’s wrong? Are you sick?”

“No,” he said. “It was a hard weekend. It’s just hitting me. All of a sudden I can’t keep my eyes open.” It was all he could think of.

“Awe, I was hoping you’d be here for a while. Hey, do you need a ride?”

“Would you mind? Otherwise I was going to hitch, but it’s probably not a good night for that.”

“I’d love it. Just hold on a minute.”

“Can I meet you out front?”

Minutes later he was in the passenger seat riding across town in Beth’s car. “Feeling any better?” she asked.

“I just had to get out of there.”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“I’m tired. It was a long, hard weekend.”

“I’ll bet.”

“Plus, I just didn’t know anybody there. The people who didn’t recognize me just ignored me. A few knew who I was, and they just don’t like me. I guess I don’t like them either.”

The next traffic signal turned green as they approached. Beth was momentarily occupied as she accelerated and maneuvered through the intersection. “Zach, Zach, Zach,” she finally said as they passed in front of the high school. “How are we going to make this work?” she said, shaking her head with a smile. “You don’t like any of my friends.”

It was a joke, but he knew she wasn’t joking. He felt a strange pulse of excitement when she said it but he didn’t answer. When she pulled up to the curb in front of his house her words still lingered in the air. She cut the engine and slid over to Zach. “I hope nobody’s in there watching,” she said.

“My mom had to work.”

Five minutes later he stepped out of the car wondering whether she knew what she was doing, getting involved with a guy like him.

Chapter 18

By the time school resumed after the Christmas break Zach had convinced himself to make the best of the situation by conceding that he was no longer in the band. After the season was over he thought he might be able to talk himself back in. A hiatus from the band was a disappointment but was also a relief. Coach Crisfield might be right. It wasn’t possible to maintain enough of a commitment to both the band and the team at the same time.

Beth and Zach tracked each other down whenever they could during school that week, either between classes or before practice. Zach promised to catch her basketball game on Friday night. “I’ve never even seen you play yet,” he told her. “That’s lame.”

“Yeah, that’s lame,” she had been quick to agree.

He weighed out at 173 on Friday, two pounds over the limit for the important Wenonah match the next day. There was no reason to go home since he knew he couldn’t eat and his mom would be at work anyway. After showering he headed into the gym to watch the girls JV basketball game. Beth and the varsity team would play after the JV game was over. He saw Beth with her teammates as he took a seat by himself in the bleachers. It wasn’t long before she broke away from the group and walked over.

“Hi,” she said brightly. “You’re really early. JV hasn’t even gotten to halftime yet.” She reached behind and put her arm around his waist. “How many shirts do you have on? I can hardly feel you through all that cloth.”

“I get cold easy.”

“No kidding. You don’t have any insulation. You’re all skin and bones.”

“There must be more to me than that. I’m two pounds over. That’s why I didn’t bother going home.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” she said, squeezing him tight before letting go. “It’s nice. I’ll be at your match tomorrow, too.”

“It’ll be a tough one. Wenonah’s always good.”

They chatted about everything and nothing as they watched the game. Beth seemed to have a story about every JV player on the court. Tired from practice and worried about his weight, Zach didn’t say much but he enjoyed the company. When the third quarter ended Beth left for the locker room to join her teammates. Zach immediately changed his location to relieve the pain on his backside. The lack of fat on his body that made him so susceptible to cold also made it uncomfortable to sit on hard bleachers for very long. He moved to the top row where he could stand against the wall without blocking anybody’s view.

~~~

“I hope you brought your A game, Burnout,” Mark Easton said as he walked past Zach in the locker room Saturday afternoon. His words stung. Zach had thought that he and Easton had begun to develop a clumsy friendship, or at least a truce. He looked up at Easton momentarily before refocusing on the baggie of cheerios he was working his way through now that the weigh-in was over with.

The weigh-in had been a source of worry for Zach. He was right on weight on the scale back at Chapel Forge, but there was no certainty that Wenonah’s scale would yield the same result. The twenty-minute bus ride had been mental torture as he hoped and prayed. After he ended up making weight by the narrowest of margins he had hoped for a few minutes of solitude before the match, but Easton had dashed those hopes.

“We haven’t beaten Wenonah for as long as I can remember,” Easton continued.

“I’ll do my best,” Zach said, wishing Easton would leave him alone.

“Say, I keep meaning to ask. Whatever happened to you at that party?” Easton asked. “I never saw you once after we got there.”

“I didn’t feel good. I was still pretty ragged from the tournament. I was home in bed by eleven o’clock.”

“Pretty early night for a guy like you. We figured you were out back getting high.”

“Get off my back, will you?” He tossed the cheerios into his gym bag and walked towards the bathroom without looking back. Some things never changed.

~~~

The JV match was just starting when Zach and the other varsity wrestlers straggled into the gym. Remembering that Beth was coming, he swept the bleachers with his eyes. He didn’t see her but he did see another group of fans that were obviously there to see him. Fauquier, Dumphries, Herndon and Jeanine were all seated in an otherwise empty area on the Wenonah side of the gym. Zach knew they saw him because they began pointing and shouting in his direction, causing the JV parents scattered around the gym to turn and stare. He walked over to them hoping that might settle them down some.

“Nice duds!” Herndon said about the red and blue satin warm-ups Zach was wearing.

“Thanks,” Zach said, his calm voice hiding his surprise. “What are you guys doing here?”

“We wanted to see you do what you do,” Fauquier said.

“You should have come to a home match. How did you find this place?”

“Dude, we’ve all lived in South Jersey all our lives,” Herndon said. “I ran cross-country against these guys.”

“Now I’m really nervous, now that you guys showed up,” Zach said. “Where’s my buddy Glimmer?”

“He’s been hauling tools at work every Saturday for a while now,” Fauquier said. “Keeps him out of trouble. Besides, why would he come? He’s already scared you’re going to crack him next time you see him.”

“Me? I never said anything like that.”

“He’s dumb as a wall,” Dumphries said. “These two guys never let up on him. They’ve got him believing in the Easter Bunny again.”

Zach smiled. It felt good to hear that the golden boy had a flaw or two after all. Maybe there really was a chance he could get back in.

As they talked Zach noticed Jeanine slipping behind them. He still felt badly about how he’d treated her the last time he saw her. Before he had thought of something to say to her she began massaging his neck and shoulders from behind without saying a word. He didn’t like it but didn’t want to hurt her feelings again by telling her to stop. Besides that, she was one of the flakiest characters he’d ever known and there was no telling how she would react. There were too many people watching to take a chance on it.

“Zach, man, we’re better with you than without you,” Fauquier said. “You’ve got to get this out of your system. How’s it going to feel if we’re off cutting an album and you’re on the outside looking in?”

Dumphries rolled his eyes and slid backwards against the row of bleachers behind him. Fauquier didn’t appear to notice. That’s Joe through and through, Zach thought. He believes what he wants to believe and sees only what he wants to see.

“I couldn’t run out on these guys, Joe,” Zach said, gesturing towards a group of his teammates. “Not in the middle of the season.”

“Why not?” Fauquier asked. “You didn’t have any trouble running out on us.”

“Joe, back off,” Dumphries said. “You said you weren’t going to do this.”

Fauquier flicked the back of his hand through the air. “Okay, you’re right. Forget I said it.”

By then the JV match was well underway. Spectators were beginning to wander into the gym more quickly as the varsity match start time drew closer. Zach was becoming increasingly worried that somebody, most specifically Beth, was going to see him lounging in the bleachers with Jeanine draped all over him. He tried to think of a way to escape without being rude.

“How long before show time?” Herndon asked. “When’s it your turn out there?”

“The varsity match starts at one o’clock,” Zach said. He paused a few seconds while doing some mental math. “I’ll be the eleventh match after it starts.”

“Man, Joe, why’d you come get me so early?” Herndon said. “I could have slept two more hours.”

By then there were so many people in the gym that it was no longer possible for Zach to know who was there. He decided it was time. “I’ve got to get back for the team meeting. Are you guys staying around after the match?”

“We’ll try, Zach,” Dumphries said. “If it isn’t too late.”

“Okay,” Zach said as he gently twisted out of Jeanine’s grasp. “Maybe I’ll check you guys out later.”

“Break a leg,” Herndon yelled when Zach nearly tripped onto the floor after carefully stepping down through the bleachers.

~~~

“I saw you with your flunkie friends,” Easton told Zach in the locker room. “Beth asked me who they were. She looked pretty pissed.”

~~~

From his seat on the bench Zach spotted Beth in the crowded seats by the time the 112-pound match had ended. He tried not to take his eyes off her during the next few matches but gave up when the 140-pound match began. She still hadn’t looked in his direction and he was sure it hadn’t been an accident. It was time to think about wrestling anyway.

By the time the 171-pound match was up the dual meet result was no longer in question. Wenonah had pounded Chapel Forge in most of the bouts. Zach’s team had looked nearly helpless except for a pin by Easton that made the team score 36-9. Zach still wanted to win, of course, and even more so in the presence of his former band mates.

His opponent was Rennie Brandon, a third year starter who had qualified for the state tournament the previous season. “He’s a counter-wrestler,” Coach Hancock had told Zach earlier. “He’ll wait for you to make a move, especially on your feet, and then react to it. Stay a little cautious. Don’t just go at him without a plan. That’s what he’s hoping you’ll do.”

If that’s what Brandon was hoping, he wasn’t disappointed. Despite Hancock’s advice he shot in for a leg takedown just a few seconds into the match without working in close enough. Brandon sprawled, leaving Zach on his hands and knees looking foolish as he grabbed at nothing but air. After Brandon scooted behind and gripped Zach with a tight waist he was awarded two points.

The Peterson Roll had worked well in Pennsylvania despite the stubborn referee so Zach decided to try it again. He sat through and began to turn in when he felt a sudden tug at his shoulders. Brandon hooked underneath both of Zach’s arms and pulled him backwards. He felt a chin digging into his shoulder at the same time that he heard the referee sliding across the mat into a position where he had a better view of Zach’s back, which was steadily approaching the surface of the mat. Thirty seconds later Zach had fought back to his stomach but not before Brandon had earned three back points. The period ended with Zach trailing by a score of 5-0.

Brandon stood up and broke away from Zach immediately when the next period started, earning him another point. This time, unlike when they faced each other in neutral position earlier, Zach wrestled with caution. Over the next forty-five seconds he and Brandon each faked several shots, none of which looked very convincing. “Come on guys, let’s see some wrestling,” chided the referee. “I’ll hit you both with stalling if I have to.”

Zach moved in to fake a tie up but instead went to the fireman’s carry. After his arm was in Brandon’s crotch he was held up momentarily when Brandon shifted his weight, but not for long. Zach followed through with the move, gracefully slinging his opponent to the mat for a takedown. That cut Brandon’s lead to 6-2.

“Let him up!” Crisfield yelled. Zach glanced at the clock and saw that there were still thirty-five seconds remaining. Was that enough time for a takedown? He did as his coaches had told him, making the score 7-2. “Shoot, Zach, keep shooting!” Crisfield yelled. Now Zach realized what his coach was thinking. Fifteen seconds and three shots later the referee’s fist went up. Brandon wasn’t going to get away with backing up and running from Zach anymore. He had just been warned for stalling.

Even after all that the clock indicated that there were still fifteen seconds left in the second period. Zach tried another fireman’s carry against his rapidly tiring opponent and it worked again. The referee’s hand went up with two fingers extended just before the buzzer sounded. Going into the third period Zach had cut the lead to 7-4.

Zach wanted to choose bottom for the next period but Crisfield signaled for him to opt for neutral. Understanding that another stalling call against his opponent was more likely if they were both on their feet, Zach obediently followed his coach’s order. Brandon had been limping in circles as Zach made his choice but he slumped to the mat clutching his calf when the referee called them to the center of the mat. “Injury time, start the clock!” the referee instructed the timekeeper. Zach walked over to where Crisfield and Hancock were.

“You’ve got him on the run,” Hancock said. “He doesn’t have any cramp. He just wants a rest.”

“Just keep shooting,” Crisfield said. “The ref’s already shown he’ll call stalling. We’ll make this kid wrestle.”

After the match restarted Zach started taking shots while Brandon did nothing except try to avoid them. Just as his coaches had predicted, the referee’s fist went up after thirty seconds. This time Zach was awarded a penalty point, which made the score 7-5. “He’s gassed!” he heard his teammates yelling. “Go get it!”

He considered attempting yet another fireman’s carry, but worried that a counter-wrestler like Brandon would be ready for it this time. Instead, he decided on a single or double leg attack. Besides going for the takedown, there was always the chance that if he took enough unanswered shots Brandon might get hit for stalling again.

On shot number four Zach thought he had everything he needed because he was in deep enough to get his arms around both of his opponent’s legs. Like he had earlier, though, Brandon showed his ability to counter the shots with an effective sprawl. After throwing his legs back and landing on Zach’s back he cross-faced Zach’s cheek hard with a forearm. Zach felt one leg slip out of his arms, and then the other. Brandon used the leverage from the cross-face to spin behind and earned two points for a takedown.

“Come on ref, make him wrestle!” Easton yelled. His remark reflected the opinion of everybody on the Chapel Forge side that Brandon deserved to be further penalized because he wasn’t initiating anything. Not surprisingly, the referee disregarded it. Zach managed a late escape but the match ended shortly after that in a 9-6 victory for Brandon.

Frustrated over Brandon’s stalling, Zach tore off his headgear and double-pumped it at the Wenonah fans, who were stomping their feet and cheering wildly. They only screamed harder at the sight. “Settle down son,” warned the referee. Zach did. He shook hands with Brandon and walked back to his own bench to cool down.

~~~

“Did you talk to Beth?” Zach anxiously asked Easton. The match was over and wrestlers from both teams were milling around on the mat. “Did you see her leave?” He was still angry about what Easton had said earlier but his need to know overrode that.

“I didn’t see her,” Easton said. “But those people you were hanging out with just walked out the side door.”

Zach knew he had made a mistake by not telling Jeanine to keep her hands to herself even though he knew Beth could arrive at any time. That was the second time she had seen Jeanine groping him. It was going to look like a pretty feeble denial when he told Beth for the second time in two weeks that despite what she saw, he and Jeanine were just friends. That didn’t mean that he wasn’t going to try it.

Chapter 19

As bad as Zach felt about what Beth was thinking about him and Jeanine, he never brought it up with her. He and Beth occasionally ran into each other during school as well as before and after practice. Beth stopped coming to wrestling matches but Zach became a reliable basketball fan. He made a habit of standing in the top row of the bleachers and watching the games after wrestling practice whenever they played at home. Sometimes he scanned the bleachers, trying to guess which one of the middle-aged men in CFTHS Basketball sweatshirts was Beth’s father.

It appeared to him as though Beth had decided he was interesting enough to be friends with, but that was all. He could hardly blame her. Knowing that a flake like Jeanine could appear at any moment was a real turnoff.

Not surprisingly, a highlight of the school day for Zach was music theory class. He had signed up for the elective thinking it would be an easy “A” as well as a place to hang out with other musicians. It had turned out to be a difficult and demanding class. Mr. Gambrills, the bow-tied, crew-cut instructor, drilled his students hard on rhythm, harmony, melody and structure of music. A good number of the kids in class had never been exposed to this higher level of instruction and most devoured it.

One morning Zach noticed Barbara Tangier pulling her guitar out of its case just before class was due to start. She moved across the room, spread some sheet music out on a music stand, and began strumming chords. Zach recognized the song immediately as ‘Losing My Religion’ by R.E.M. It was the perfect song for how he felt, he thought, even if he had no idea what the lyrics were. With so many minor chords it had a sad tone to it but it moved along enough that it didn’t drag. Even as the bell rang, signaling that class was about to begin, Zach couldn’t stop himself from walking over.

Mr. Gambrills was still at his desk and didn’t seem fazed at all that Tangier was playing her guitar rather than sitting at her desk. Zach knew the song well, but did he know it well enough to sing it? The lyrics were right in front of him. When Tangier reached the next refrain he jumped in and sang along. She looked up at him and smiled, then laughed. Zach kept singing while he looked over at Mr. Gambrills. He had a quizzical look on his face but seemed to be genuinely amused. When Tangier and Zach reached the chorus he heard a few voices from the other side of the classroom harmonizing against his own. That made it even more enjoyable for Zach, who until then hadn’t realized how hungry he was for making music. When the song was over he and Tangier said nothing to each other. With red faces they walked back to their desks as the rest of the students applauded and whooped.

Dumphries kept Zach filled in on how the band was doing with a few phone calls and an occasional visit to the Bowie household. From what he told Zach, Glimmer had settled in and gotten more comfortable singing lead. Dumphries thought that Max Richmond, the new bass player, was as good as Zach, much to Zach’s disappointment. The band’s sound was flatter, even bland, Dumphries told Zach, and Fauquier was worried about it. Glimmer looked good on stage but his voice didn’t “boom” the way Zach’s did, as Dumphries put it. Fauquier spent a lot of time at practice coaching Glimmer on making his voice more distinct and memorable.

“So he’s a big bore, in other words,” Zach said, trying not to show how pleased he was to hear that Fauquier wasn’t happy with his replacement.

“Pretty much,” Dumphries said. “Snore city. Bo really hates him. And you know Bo. He never lets up.”

As January turned into February Zach enjoyed success with wrestling. He knew full well that leaving the band had a lot to do with it. When he won his fifth straight match in a 9-0 shutout in a Wednesday night match at Western he started to believe he might really have some talent. So did his teammates, although they kept their distance as they always had. Gone were the remarks about late night parties and hangovers. Easton showed less animosity as time went on, going so far as to stop referring to him as ‘Burnout.’ Zach wished he was closer to the other wrestlers but he could at least take some satisfaction in knowing that he’d finally earned their respect.

Life was easier with only one full-time hobby instead of two. He got more sleep and had more time to keep his schoolwork in order. Everything slowed down to a pace that he could keep up with. Most importantly, the thankless task of balancing Fauquier’s demands against Coach Crisfield’s rules wasn’t something he had to deal with anymore.

Still, he missed the camaraderie of the band. Music offered a fulfillment that was different than what he took from wrestling or anything else. Nothing came close to the ecstasy of getting it just right, even if it was just during a practice session. Occasionally Zach fantasized about doing whatever it would take to get back in. He could never give up wrestling and the exhilaration he felt each time he competed, but music would always be just as important. He was still unsure if he had made the decision himself to keep the wrestling and drop the music. It felt more like the decision had been made for him by circumstance.

Chapter 20

While walking to the school one Saturday morning in early February Zach felt confident that he would win his match that afternoon when Chapel Forge hosted Parkdale. He would likely be facing Luis Sanibel, who he remembered pinning in the first period of a match during the previous season. It seemed safe to expect that he would win his seventeenth match of the season later in the day. He was currently riding a two-match losing streak that had erased the elation of five straight victories. He needed to win.

“Hey, Zach. Ready to go?” Coach Hancock asked when Zach walked into the gym. Wrestlers were busy all around them setting up for the match.

“Yeah, I’m all set, Coach,” Zach said. “I don’t have much of a match today. I pinned my kid last year.”

“Well, there’s always something you can get out of a match. Even if your opponent isn’t that good.”

“I can try out that turk move we did in practice, maybe.”

“There you go. And just work on controlling the match, like we always talk about. Keep moving, keep him defending instead of attacking.”

When it was time for his match Zach walked onto the mat while carefully studying his opponent. As they shook hands in the center circle he wondered if Sanibel recognized him, too. Zach shot quickly after the match started and scored with a double leg takedown before the match was fifteen seconds old. Despite what he and Hancock had talked about he planned on winning with an early pin just like in the previous season. He inserted a half nelson even though Coach Crisfield didn’t like his wrestlers using them against wrestlers who weren’t on their stomachs. Crisfield immediately yelled “Break him down first!” just like Zach knew he would.

Sanibel countered the half nelson by locking down on Zach’s arm and rolling hard in that direction. Since Zach had no hand on that side to post on, he ended up flopping onto his own back, with Sanibel on top. He was able to flip over and avoid giving up back points but Sanibel had tied the score at 2-2 with a reversal. Crisfield would have something to say about that half nelson after the match.

Zach fought back to his base position, disgusted that he’d given up the points so easily. He grabbed Sanibel’s wrist and was able to stand up. Sanibel locked his hands around Zach’s waist after Zach was on his feet but it didn’t take long for Zach to break his grip and escape for one point. The period ended with both wrestlers in neutral position, each having taken several shots at the other’s legs in a last-second flurry of action. Zach was ahead, as he had expected to be, but only by a 3-2 score.

The second period began with Zach in the bottom position. He tried the standup again but Sanibel brought him back to the mat with an ankle ride when Zach was only halfway up. Before Zach could try anything else Sanibel slid his left leg between Zach’s legs and hooked Zach’s left leg. As Sanibel moved his body across Zach’s back Zach remembered that they had gone over counters to throwing legs but he couldn’t remember any of them.

Sanibel didn’t seem to be in a hurry. He patiently leaned and lurched in different directions and tried different grips on various parts of Zach’s body, looking for a way to turn him onto his back. He was experimenting and probing just enough to avoid being hit with a stalling call even though it became increasingly apparent that he wasn’t working for a pin. Although he never felt he was in danger, Zach couldn’t break out of the leg-to-leg hold. When there were less than thirty-five seconds left on the clock Zach began to feel uneasy. Being on bottom was his best opportunity to score, he knew, and he hadn’t even come close to escaping or reversing Sanibel. For the first time he realized that last year’s result aside, his opponent was wrestling to win.

Unease gave way to panic for Zach as time ran out in the second period with no scoring at all. He looked over at his coaches as Sanibel got set in bottom position. Both were seated with their arms folded and mouths closed. If he was going to hang on to the 3-2 lead and win, it was going to be up to him to figure out how.

When the period began Zach used a tight-waist and ankle ride to force Sanibel onto his stomach. At least he shouldn’t be able to score from there, he thought, wondering what happened to all the bravado he’d felt earlier about pinning Sanibel. After Sanibel worked his way to his hands and knees Zach chopped one of his arms out and shoved him forward in that direction, successfully driving him back down to the mat. He looked at the clock and saw that only twenty seconds had elapsed. He was clinging to the slimmest of leads and there was a long way to go before the match ended.

When Sanibel again began working back to his base position Zach moved out to the side to try a far-side cradle. He was able to slip one hand over the back of Sanibel’s neck and had begun working his other hand behind a leg. At that point Sanibel stretched his body out forcefully enough for Zach to realize that the cradle wasn’t going to work. Sanibel then elevated the back end of his body before Zach was able to move back to a safer position. Zach tried to resist what was happening but couldn’t stop himself from sliding slowly down Sanibel’s back towards his head. Even before he heard shouts from his bench of “You’re too high!” he knew he was in trouble.

Zach reached across and tried to grab anything he could. His opponent moved deliberately, obviously aware that time and gravity were on his side as Zach continued to slide. Sanibel jerked his own body upwards several times, preventing Zach from halting his involuntary movement down Sanibel’s back. When Zach was close to the mat he was able to hook his hand under Sanibel’s arm but it was too late. Sanibel backed out between Zach’s legs and climbed on top, earning two points for a reversal. With twenty-one seconds left in the match Zach was behind for the first time.

Clearly hoping to hold onto the lead without concern for building on it, Sanibel threw the leg again. Zach desperately tried to peel the leg away but the strength of his arm was no match for the strength of Sanibel’s leg. He reached back and tried to pull Sanibel onto the mat but couldn’t budge him. Time ran out with no further change in position. Sanibel had avenged last year’s result by beating Zach by a score of 4-3.

Coach Crisfield walked down the bench to talk with Zach shortly after the next bout started. “I hope I never see you throw a half on a guy on his knees again,” Crisfield said. “I saw that shoulder roll coming from a mile away.” Zach was breathing too hard to answer.

“And that cradle at the end,” Crisfield continued. “That was a bad idea too. If you’ve got the lead let the other guy take chances. You should have stayed behind and ridden him with a two-on-one or something. You might get a stalling warning, but so what?”

Zach got up and walked behind the bench. Crisfield made sense but he already felt badly about what had happened and wasn’t in the mood for a browbeating.

~~~

Chapel Forge won the dual meet easily but Zach didn’t care. He dressed quickly without showering after it was over. Not a word was spoken between him and any of his teammates. Instead of sorting through his gear he haphazardly threw everything he wasn’t wearing into the locker before slamming it shut. Hard. He punched the locker door for good measure, as if he wanted to be sure everybody knew how angry he was. Losing to Luis Sanibel was embarrassing, painful, and maybe enlightening. After some early season success he’d now lost three matches in a row. He felt foolish that he’d ever thought he could catch up to everybody else in just one off-season. It was starting to look to him like he still wasn’t very good. They must have been laughing at me all along, he thought angrily as he stomped out of the locker room without saying anything to anybody. No wonder they call me ‘Burnout,’ he thought. That’s all I ever was to them. And maybe all I’ll ever be.

His head was down as he walked quickly through the gym lobby. He opened the door and was about to walk outside when he heard somebody calling his name. He looked and saw Tim Betterton trotting in his direction. “Zach, wait up!” he yelled. Zach figured that Coach Crisfield had sent Betterton out to retrieve him. He held the door open and waited. Somebody from the squad of barelegged cheerleaders rehearsing in the lobby didn’t like the icy February air that was blowing in, and yelled for him to close the door. He looked away and opened it wider.

“Zach, what’s wrong?” Betterton asked. “Why are you blowing up like this?”

“Didn’t you see my match?” Zach answered bitterly. “I sucked. I’m a sucky wrestler. Everybody was right.”

“Everybody who?” Betterton asked. “Nobody thinks that. It’s just one match you lost. There’s nobody on this team who hasn’t lost a few this year.”

“Try three in a row,” Zach said before yanking the door closed. “It isn’t just that I lost, Tim,” he said. “I beat that guy last year. I pinned him.”

“Oh, I get it. Come on, let’s go in there,” he said, pointing toward the gym. “Let me wise you up about a few things.”

Zach followed him even though he didn’t expect that Betterton could change his mind about anything. He thought they were headed for the bleachers but instead they walked back into the alcove where unneeded wrestling mats were kept. Betterton hopped onto one of the rolls and faced Zach, who remained standing.

“Did Crisfield tell you to chase me down?” Zach asked.

“No,” Betterton said. “You just looked more pissed off than usual. A lot more pissed. Everybody noticed.”

Zach was glad there wasn’t much light in the alcove. He was so angry and confused that he felt like crying. “Yeah, right. They couldn’t care less about me in there.”

“Not true. Just about everybody on the team likes you, Zach. They know you got a lot better since last year, and they know how hard you worked. It’s just that they’re afraid of you.”

“You know, at first I really thought I’d gotten a lot better. I worked my butt off. But now I can’t even win a match anymore. And today I lost to a guy I beat last year. I pinned him. I haven’t gotten any better at all.”

“Knock it off, will you? That’s crap. Just your conditioning alone is light years better than last year. How many times did you wrestle for six minutes last season? Not many, right?”

“Hardly ever,” Zach agreed.

“Because you were too out of shape. Most of the time you either pinned or got pinned because you couldn’t go three periods. This year you’re a machine.”

“But it just doesn’t make sense. If I’m so much better, how do I lose to a guy I pinned last year?”

“A thousand reasons,” Betterton said patiently. “Maybe he got better too. Maybe he had a bad night last year. Maybe you had a good night last year. Maybe you had a bad day today. Maybe he just had a good day today.”

“Or maybe I just suck. It’s okay. I’m good at other things. I’m good at singing, except, wait a minute. Hold on. Oh yeah, I got kicked out of the band. Oops. Forget that one.”

“You’re such a hard-ass,” Betterton said. “Do you ever lighten up?”

“No.”

“No kidding. Maybe that’s why you don’t have any friends on the team,” Betterton said. “The only time we hear your voice is when you’re talking back to the coach or fighting with somebody.”

“You just got done saying everybody likes me so much. Besides, maybe I want it that way.”

“I don’t know much about the guy you wrestled today,” Betterton said. “What’s his name again?”

“Luis Sanibel.”

“He’s probably not as bad as you’ve got him pegged to be. Just because you pinned him last year doesn’t mean he’s so bad. Sometimes when you pin somebody it’s just because you happened to catch him in just the right position.”

“So you’re saying I got lucky last year. Thanks, man,” he said sarcastically. “You’re really helping me out here.”

“Well, look at it this way. He did some pretty slick stuff on you today, I’ll tell you that. Maybe he’s not as bad as you think.”

Zach fingered the zipper on his army jacket. Betterton’s words were only making him feel worse.

“You can’t judge everything just going by two matches,” Betterton said. “Even if it’s against the same guy. It’s more complicated than that.”

“Maybe it isn’t.”

“So what are you going to do?” Betterton asked. “You showed you could do it this season. Nobody thought you’d even be here, let alone on varsity. What are you going to do now? Quit?”

“Maybe. I could go back to playing music.”

Betterton sighed. “Look, what’s your record this year?”

“16 and 8,” Zach said.

“How about last year?”

“10 and 12,” Zach told him.

“So you’re going to double your wins this year. Most guys would kill for that. How can you say you suck?”

“Yeah, and next year I’ll win 87 at this rate,” Zach said. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Okay, I’m done,” Betterton said, sliding off the mat roll. “I tried. You just want to feel sorry for yourself, so have at it. See you around.” He turned and left the alcove without waiting for Zach to respond.

Zach didn’t want to leave through the gym because he didn’t want to see anybody. That especially applied to Beth. She was probably lingering somewhere with her friends or teammates near the lobby after basketball practice. The sign on the door at the other end of the alcove read ‘Emergency Exit Only – Alarm Will Sound,’ but Zach didn’t care. If an alarm sounded that was somebody else’s problem.

Chapter 21

Dumphries came by Zach’s house on Sunday morning just as Zach was heading out the door for a run. It was nice to see his friend, much nicer than Zach would have expected it to be. “I think I’ll skip the run,” Zach said after Dumphries was inside. “It’s not doing me any good anymore anyway.”

“No way,” Dumphries said. “Remember you told me you can’t take a day off?”

“Well, maybe one day off won’t hurt,” Zach said with a weak laugh.

“Come on. You threw the band away for this. You’ve got to stick to it. You can’t keep dropping out of stuff.”

“Geez, Toby. Mellow out. What are you, my coach?”

“I’m just saying,” Dumphries replied.

“Yeah, you sure are,” Zach said.

“Get going, will you? I’ll feel like hell if you don’t. I’ll be here when you get back.”

The roads were white from so many pre-snowstorm treatments over recent weeks. During the four-mile run Zach was able to avoid most of the slush and ice but not all of it. By the time he was back at home his sneakers were wet and his sweats were speckled with salt and mud. He wiped his runny nose on a sleeve before opening the door. His lungs burned after sucking in so much cold air. Knowing his mom could tell if he sat on the couch in those dirty sweats, he pulled them and his shoes off at the door before plopping onto the couch in his underwear. His red face tingled as his skin recovered from exposure to the cold February air.

“Wow, you’re covered with rock salt,” Dumphries said. “It’s a tough world out there.”

“You should have seen what they dump on the roads where we were in Pennsylvania,” Zach said. “One of our guys had to go out and run some weight off. When he got back he was black as coal below the waist. I think it was coal.”

“So how’s the wrestling going anyway? It’s probably in the paper but I never know where to look.”

“I’ve really been in the crapper lately,” Zach told him. “It’s been a while since I’ve won a match.”

“Hey, have you won one since you quit the band?” Dumphries asked. “Maybe we’re your good luck charm.”

“I wish you would stop saying I quit. You kind of forced my hand, don’t you think?”

“We did?” Dumphries asked. “I thought it was your coach.”

“He was on me all year about it,” Zach said. “But I didn’t listen. But then there was that day when I showed up for practice and some other dude was playing my bass.”

Dumphries sighed. “That sucked,” he agreed. “That was all Joe. Bo and I didn’t know a thing about it.”

“So how’s he doing now?” Zach asked as he pulled two sweatshirts over his head and dropped them onto the floor. “My replacement, I mean? Is he doing any better?”

“Yeah, I guess so. He gets all flustered when Joe nags him, which is pretty much all the time. Then he sounds all squeaky because he’s nervous. He hasn’t learned to tell Joe to shove it like the rest of us did.”

“It’s tough being the new guy.”

“We’re playing that club in Philly again next weekend. We’re actually getting paid this time.”

“We’re actually getting paid this time,” Zach repeated in a nasal voice as a smile broke out on his face. “Man, you guys need a manager.” He scooped up the clothes he’d shed and headed towards his room. “Let me change real quick. I’m soaked.” He returned two minutes later wearing jeans and a thermal shirt, covered by the layer of flannel he always preferred.

“Do you want anything to drink?” he asked Dumphries as he passed through towards the kitchen. “I need some water.”

“No, I’m good. The club is actually pretty cool,” he said, speaking loudly so Zach could hear him in the kitchen. “It must have been some kind of theater before. They left most of the seats in. It’s like playing a concert, except for the people stuffing wings and French fries in their face.”

“Cool,” Zach yelled back. “You’ve come along way since teen club dances.”

“Not really. But at least we’re not playing for free.”

~~~

Coach Hancock walked into the Fire House on Monday and looked around. When he spotted Zach stretching in the corner he immediately headed in that direction. Zach had been wondering for two days what the reaction to his Saturday meltdown was going to be, and it looked like he was about to find out.

“Hey,” he said to Hancock as he came over.

“What’s up, Zach?” Hancock said. “Feeling any better?”

“Not much.”

“You’ve lost a few but you can’t let it get to you. You’ve been drawing the tough match lately, that’s all. It’s not like other sports. Even if the other team isn’t any good they might have a couple of studs. And you keep getting one of them.”

“I hope that’s it. But I beat that guy last year, the guy from Saturday. That’s the one that kills me.”

“I hear you,” Hancock said. “I know you talked about it with Tim already. Everything he told you is on the money. That was a good wrestler you lost to.”

“I hope so.” He was relieved that there were no hard feelings about how he had acted on Saturday, at least with the coaches. Now he just wanted the conversation to end.

“You know it’s not going to get any easier on Wednesday, don’t you?” Hancock asked. “You’ll probably catch Homestead if his ankle is okay.”

“Who?”

“Jake Homestead. He won regions last year. He’s been out for a few weeks but I heard he wrestled on Saturday. Wrestle hard and don’t blow a fuse if it doesn’t go your way. Show some dignity instead of throwing a tantrum. That’s part of what this sport is all about. Okay?”

Zach thought Hancock made it all sound too simple but knew life would be easier if he kept that to himself. Besides, maybe Hancock was right. It took off some of the pressure about the next match too. “Okay, Coach,” he said. “I’ll keep my cool this time.”

“Good man. Forget about Saturday. That’s ancient history, buddy.”

~~~

When Zach saw Beth in the lobby after practice on Tuesday he never hesitated. She was admiring the trophies again. As he approached her he wondered if she was waiting for him to come by. He unzipped his coat as he walked over to where she was. He could see when he was close that she was watching his reflection in the glass.

“Hi,” Zach said.

“Oh, hi,” Beth said after turning around. “I didn’t see you there.”

“So what are you up to these days?”

“Just the usual. School, basketball.”

“I’ve been at some of your games.”

“I saw you. The guy who never sits.”

“Anyway, I wanted to tell you about that girl you saw me with.”

“You told me before. You’re just friends, right?”

“I know it doesn’t always look that way. It’s hard to explain it, about how she acts.”

“She’s a little spacy,” Beth said. “That’s what you told me before.”

“That’s about right,” Zach replied. “She’s nice and all but sometimes I have no idea what she’s thinking. It gets embarrassing sometimes. I don’t know where it comes from. That’s just how she is.”

“It’s no big deal to me,” Beth said. “I think it’s kind of funny.”

Zach had planned on telling her why it was a big deal to him but it didn’t seem like a good idea anymore. She didn’t seem to care. “Cool,” he said instead.

“I better get going,” she said.

“Yeah, sure,” Zach said. “I’ll be at your next game.”

“Great,” she replied. “See ya.” She suddenly looked as though she was in a hurry as she hustled away from the trophy case and out the door.

~~~

“He looks like a mummy,” Coach Crisfield said just before sending Zach onto the mat for the match against Jake Homestead. Even though he was nervous and worried, Zach snorted because Crisfield was right. He could see through the openings of Homestead’s singlet that there was an ace bandage wrapped around his rib cage. He also had a taped wrist on one side and a few taped fingers on the other. Heavy white pads covered both knees. Presumably there was a heavily taped ankle inside one of his red wrestling shoes. Homestead was a either a hypochondriac, a battle-tested competitor, or one of the most fragile wrestlers Zach would ever face.

Earlier Coach Hancock had stressed that the best chance Zach had at success against Homestead was to wrestle defensively, much like Sanibel had a few days earlier. “He’s quick as can be,” Hancock had said, “and he’ll never stop attacking. You won’t have to worry about getting called for stalling. He’ll do enough for both of you. Just try to squeeze something in if he stops to think,” he had said with a laugh.

After their terse conversation on Monday Zach had no expectation that Beth would come to the match but Easton pointed her out while the wrestlers were stretching their hamstrings. “Hey Burnout. Your girlfriend’s here,” he said, leaving Zach to wonder whether he was referring to Beth or Jeanine. He nonchalantly turned in that direction just before settling onto the mat for spinning drills. Sure enough, Beth was sitting alone in the top row with her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands. She didn’t move when he looked but he thought she was watching him.

Homestead dove at Zach’s ankle instantly after the match started, and picked it up effortlessly before Zach was able to evade. Zach clinched Homestead’s upper body and hopped on his free leg. He thought Homestead would try to trip that leg but instead he used his own weight to pull Zach down in the other direction. Rather than risk being put on his back Zach surrendered the two takedown points and turned away into his base position.

After establishing control Homestead reached through Zach’s legs and grabbed Zach’s wrist. With his other arm he dug an elbow into Zach’s kidney and hooked the trapped arm. With that tilt hold in place all he had to do was lean. When he did, Zach’s back was exposed to the mat. Homestead held Zach in place long enough to earn a set of three back points before relinquishing the hold. Zach quickly stood up and broke free, cutting Homestead’s lead to 5-1. The two wrestlers tied up at the center of the mat but neither attempted any moves before the first period was over.

Zach was annoyed that Homestead had worked that tilt. That was a move intended only for running up points with little possibility for a pin. He’d prefer that his opponent try to pin him rather than embarrass him by building up a big lead with fancy moves. If he tried something like that again Zach decided that an elbow or fist to the face would make his feelings clear to Homestead. He’d already lost three in a row. The last thing he was going to put up with was being humiliated in his own gym.

Homestead chose to begin the second period in neutral position. He tried another quick shot, just as he had done at the start of the match, but this time Zach was ready. He sprawled perfectly, kicking his feet out of reach and landing on Homestead’s back. He scooted behind but just before he had earned a takedown Homestead reached and grabbed Zach’s leg. A stalemate call was coming but Zach took the opportunity to send a message. He swung his forearm hard into the side of Homestead’s face. The referee immediately blew the whistle to stop the match. “That’s a punch! You can’t wind up like that!” he said to Zach before signaling for a penalty point to be awarded to Homestead. Zach considered protesting that he was only applying a legal cross face but didn’t, because he knew the referee was right.

“Zach!” Crisfield yelled onto the mat as the referee walked both wrestlers back to the center for a restart. When Zach looked over Crisfield nodded emphatically and pushed his hands repeatedly towards the mat with his palms-down. Zach understood that he was being told to settle down, and nodded back in the affirmative. The wrestlers shook hands and the bout resumed with Zach trailing by 6-1.

This time Zach shot first. Homestead was able to get a hand on his forehead, slowing down Zach’s lunge. Zach was able to reach one of Homestead’s legs, but only enough to brush it as Homestead pushed down on Zach’s head and circled behind for a takedown. After the points were awarded he let go and used a two-handed shove to push Zach forward onto his face. Zach realized that Homestead was toying with him and he got angry all over again. As the two faced off from neutral position Zach grabbed the fingers that were taped together on Homestead’s left hand. He squeezed hard, hoping to inflict some pain, but didn’t get any reaction. Instead, Homestead tried to use that hand against Zach by pushing it outwards and ducking underneath it. Zach simply backed away and let go of the hand. The period ended with no change, leaving the score at 8-2.

Crisfield signaled for Zach to choose bottom position for the final period, which he promptly did. If Homestead tried one of those cute tilts instead of coming after him Zach knew he’d have a hard time keeping his anger in check. When Homestead purposely let him escape, presumably so he could then add to his lead by scoring a takedown, Zach had had enough. He climbed to his feet and turned to face Homestead. He reached as though going for a tie-up but instead pushed hard at Homestead’s shoulders with both hands, momentarily driving him back on his heels. When there was no reaction he reached to do it again. This time Homestead expected it. He ducked under an arm and slipped behind Zach. When he locked hands and tripped Zach backwards the referee quickly awarded Homestead two points for the takedown. With less than a minute of wrestling left Zach was being routed by a score of 10-3.

For the remainder of the match Homestead used a spiral ride to control Zach without actively working for the pin. Knowing the outcome was no longer in question, the referee chose not to penalize Homestead for stalling. After the final seconds ticked off and the buzzer sounded Homestead again shoved Zach away hard. Zach scrambled to his feet and charged at Homestead but the referee grabbed him from behind. “Any more nonsense from either of you is going to cost a team point,” he said in a voice loud enough for both benches to hear. Zach didn’t care about team points. He only knew he was tired and embarrassed. But he remembered Hancock’s words about keeping his dignity and decided to let it go. After Homestead’s arm was raised Zach slithered off the mat with no further confrontation.

~~~

“Tough one,” Betterton said to Zach after walking over from his own locker.

“Big deal,” Zach said. “What’s one more loss to me?”

“I don’t think Homestead’s lost since states last year. Of all the ones you lost, this is the one you shouldn’t even worry about.”

“He pissed me off. I don’t mind a guy coming right at me and whipping me. This guy did a lot of weasel moves on me. Then he’s letting me up, making me look like a Bozo.”

“Zach, it’s part of the sport,” Betterton said. “You can’t take it personal like this. He’s not trying to show you up. It’s just how he wrestles. You lost your cool out there and that made it worse.”

“I tried to squeeze his bum fingers, did you see that?” Zach asked, smiling for the first time all day.

Betterton laughed. “You mean the ones he had taped?”

“Yeah,” Zach said. “Hopefully he felt a little pain, at least.”

“Probably not. He’s superstitious. Everything that he’s ever injured gets taped up for every match. His fingers probably recovered five years ago but he tapes them up for every match anyway.”

“Great,” Zach said. “I can’t even cheat right.”

“Keep your cool, Zach. Okay? Everybody loses matches. You’re still having a good season. You’ll be winning again before you know it and you’ll forgot all about the losses.”

Zach appreciated Betterton’s words more this time. He was upset about the way he’d been beaten that night and even more upset that he’d lost four in a row. It was nice that somebody on his team still thought enough of him to try to talk him through it. Even so, the only thing that was really going to help was a victory. The way things were going he felt like he’d never win another one again.

As he walked along the sidewalk towards home Zach found himself wishing he had a closer relationship with somebody on the team. Betterton looked out for him out of a sense of duty, but he probably didn’t think of Zach as a friend. Usually Zach liked being a loner but at times like this it didn’t feel very good. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a passing truck that slow down momentarily. Without bothering to look up from the sidewalk he imagined a couple of teammates yelling out the window for him to hop in. By the time Zach finished adjusting his jacket collar and pulling his AC-DC knit cap further down over his ears the truck had resumed its speed and was gone.

~~~

“Just a couple more weeks until districts,” Easton said as he eased the Explorer out of the parking lot. “I’m ready, too. Let’s get it done. I’m hungry.”

“Hey, isn’t that Bowie?” Kevin Salisbury said of the hunched figure walking down the sidewalk. “It is,” he said as they passed by. “Where’s he going?”

“He lives down there,” Easton said. “In one of those beat-up little houses. I had to pick him up a few weeks ago. We went to a party together.”

“You were right about him,” Salisbury said. “What a loser. Did you see him out there tonight? It’s always like it’s a street fight to him.”

“He’s got a mean streak. I’ve been on the wrong end of it a few times. But he’s not so bad once you get to know him.”

What are you talking about?” Salisbury asked. “I heard him telling Betterton that he tried to break Homestead’s injured fingers. You should have seen his face when Betterton told him.”

“He can be pretty nutty. No two ways about it.”

“He’s a bad influence on the younger guys,” Salisbury said. “What if they start acting like that? If I were the coach I’d have thrown him off the team a long time ago. He’s bad news. You were right all along, the team would be better off without him.”

Easton didn’t say anything more.

Chapter 22

There was no basketball game in the gym on Friday night so Zach went straight home after practice. The house was empty, just as he knew it would be. He had weighed out at 170 pounds, a full pound below the limit. Even so, he ate very little for dinner because he wanted to be absolutely certain about making weight following morning.

He washed his dishes and was standing in the hallway deciding what to do next when the doorbell rang. Jeanine pushed past him and into the house after he opened the door without saying a word. Her nonchalance about showing up unannounced made it even harder for Zach to understand why she was there. He couldn’t remember any plans that had been made for the evening. “Hi, Honey,” she finally said after he followed her into the living room. “Want to go to a party? I don’t have anybody to go with.”

“I really can’t, Jeanine,” Zach said. Now he understood. She was on her way out and looking for company. “I have a match tomorrow.”

“Well, the party’s not tomorrow,” she said. “It’s tonight. Come on, it’ll be fun.”

“No, no, no,” Zach said, smiling. “I know you. It’ll go late, real late. I can’t.”

“What if I promise to get you home early?”

“Early means different things, especially to you.”

“Name the time.”

“Whose party is it, anyway?” Zach asked. Maybe going out for a little while wasn’t such a bad idea after all. He could use the distraction, and if Jeanine kept her promise he wouldn’t be up any later than if he stayed in.

“Some guy. He was at a show last weekend.”

“You know, maybe I will go. But I need to be home by eleven, or at least by midnight. You’ve got to promise me, Jeanine.”

“Of course, Zach. It’ll be great, everybody there will know you.”

“How can you say that? You don’t even know whose party it is.”

They left a few minutes later after Zach had scribbled a quick note to his mom. The party was at a house in Deptford, just a few minutes away. Many of the party-goers were recognizable to Zach as members of bands from the area. Like everybody else, Zach greeted each person he came across with a casual grunt of “Hey, man!”, “How’s it going?” or something similar.

He followed Jeanine through a few rooms without having any idea where they were going. She somehow seemed to know just about everybody. Zach had already gotten used to the fact that people didn’t recognize him without the long hair, especially now that he’d dropped nearly twenty pounds. Sometimes it was like being new in town.

“Zach, what are you doing here?”

He turned and saw that it was Barbara Tangier, the guitarist from Music Theory class. Instead of a guitar she was holding a tall plastic cup filled to the brim with beer in one hand and a half-eaten pickle in the other. “I didn’t know you knew Jules!”

“I don’t,” Zach answered with a shrug. “I just came with her,” he said, jerking his thumb to the side.

“There’s nobody there, Zach,” Barbara said. Jeanine had flitted out of the room as quickly as she had entered. “Do you have an imaginary girlfriend?”

“Okay, okay,” Zach said.

“Are you sure you came with somebody?” Barbara teased.

Zach couldn’t stop looking at the cup of beer. “I haven’t had a beer in almost a year,” he said. “Or a smoke. Every time I come to a place like this I want to light up. I guess I haven’t kicked the habit yet.”

“I don’t smoke but I’ll share my beer with you,” she offered.

“Man, would I like a sip of that. I can’t, though. I have a match tomorrow.”

“Come on. It’ll be out of your system by then.” She held the cup out.

“It doesn’t work that way,” he said, but he reached for it anyway. He lifted the cup to his lips and took a healthy gulp. When he handed the cup back Barbara laughed. “You have a beer mustache.”

“God, I can’t believe I just did that. But it tasted so good I think I’m going to cry.” He wiped the film of beer from his upper lip with the back of his hand.

“Here. Finish it off. But I’m not sharing my pickle,” she said before cramming what was left of it into her mouth. Zach took the cup, still half full, and drained it without stopping to take a breath. As he lowered the cup he felt the familiar pleasant lightheadedness and knew he was risking big trouble. The problem was that trouble had never felt so good.

“Whew!” Barbara said. “That didn’t take long.”

“I’m done with beer now. It’s already too much.”

“Okay. But I won’t hold you to it.”

“No kidding,” Zach laughed.

“Come on into the back. I left my guitar there. Your girlfriend won’t mind.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

They weaved through clusters of people and into a smaller room that was full of musical equipment. “Jules said I could come in here,” she said.

“I can’t believe he’d leave all this expensive gear out with so many strangers like me here. Doesn’t he worry somebody might steal something?”

“I guess not. I know him pretty well. He’d just buy more without even thinking about it.”

“I really miss being in the band, seeing all this stuff.”

“What do you mean? You’re not in a band anymore?”

“No. They kicked me out because I was spending too much time wrestling.”

“Oh,” she said. “Sorry.”

“I thought I could do both. But they didn’t. Neither did my coach.”

“Hey, didn’t your band do a lot of KISS songs? Did you see them on ‘MTV unplugged’? They were pretty good. They sounded like Crosby, Stills & Nash. I had to buy the sound track I liked it so much.”

“Crosby, Stills & Nash? Glad I missed it.”

“No, really, it was good,” she insisted. “I’ve been playing some of their stuff since I saw it. Want to hear it?”

“Sure.”

“First I’m going to get something to drink. I’ll get you one just in case.”

Zach knew he should tell her not to but he didn’t. When she brought back a full cup of beer for him he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to resist it. After that, he told himself, no more. As it was he would probably have to go for a run in the morning to make sure he was still on weight. Besides that, he was worried about a hangover, the last thing he needed on the day of a match.

Barbara put the two cups on a table when she came back, then strapped on her acoustic guitar. “I’m borrowing Jules’ pickup,” she said as she clipped an electronic device onto the guitar and plugged the other end into an amplifier. When she turned the amp on and strummed, the sound was clear, rich and loud. Zach grabbed his beer and took a couple more big swallows while Barbara played chords. The taste of the beer, the smell of cigarette smoke and the music brought it all back. He felt the pull of his old lifestyle. He was still sober enough to understand that if he couldn’t fight it off it would clash with his new life in about ten hours.

“I can’t believe this went to my head so fast,” he told Barbara as he held the cup up. “Used to be I could drink a couple six-packs without feeling it. Of course, that was when I used to eat food.”

“Do you recognize this?” Barbara asked as she played.

“Yeah,” Zach said suddenly after listening for a few measures. “That’s ‘Going Blind,’ right?”

“Yup. Come on, sing it,” she coaxed.

“I don’t know the words.”

“Bull,” she said. “Come on.”

He picked up his beer and took a healthy drink. After that he felt much less apprehensive. “Gene Simmons sang this one. I usually do the Paul Stanley ones.”

“Shut up and sing,” she said loudly as she repeated the same chord over and over, as an audible prompt to a reluctant singer. “Here we go!”

He picked it up in the next measure, surprising himself with how well he knew the words. When they were halfway through the song a small group came into the room to watch. They smiled and bobbed their heads to the music as they passed around whatever it was they were smoking. Zach hoped the song would never end. When it did Barbara immediately started another song without missing a beat. “How about this?” she asked. She was strumming chords and picking notes at the same time. “Know it?”

“’Guns N Roses’,” he said before noticing that a fresh beer, this time in a large glass, had appeared next to the empty cup. He timed it out so that he was able to guzzle most of the new one just before launching into the lyrics of ‘Patience.’ A few more people wandered in to see what was going on. It wasn’t long after that when Zach heard somebody accompanying him, the same way it had happened in class. By the time that song ended Zach had stopped thinking about the Saturday morning wrestling match.

They played a few more songs, but the scene got rowdier by the minute as the little room filled up with curious people. Eventually it sounded more like a German beer hall or an Elk’s Club convention than anything that Zach or Barbara cared to be involved in. When half the people in the room weren’t even paying attention to the music they both realized that their time had passed. Zach slipped away to refill his beer cup at the keg one last time. When he turned around he saw Barbara heading in the same direction with a guitar case in her hand.

“That was fun!” she said. “You’re not just a rocker, Zach. You can sing a ballad as good as the next guy.”

“Sure was fun,” Zach said. “I really miss jamming like that. You’re really good, Barbara. Next time you form a band count me in.”

“Serious?” she asked. Zach wasn’t thinking clearly but it looked to him like she was touched by the offer. He wasn’t sure if he was serious or not.

“Sure am,” he said anyway.

“But your band didn’t really split up, did they? Not permanently, right?”

“No, they didn’t split up,” he reminded her. “They just kicked me out. They’re playing a gig tonight without me,” Zach said. “It seems permanent to me.”

“Where at?”

“A club on South Street in the city,” Zach said. “They’re probably starting right about now, actually.”

“Maybe we should go.”

“Go where?”

“To see your band.”

“Wow. That would be weird.”

“But in a good way,” she said with a smile.

“I guess so. Do you have a car here?”

“No. I don’t even have a license.”

“Me neither,” Zach said. “No car, no license. Hey, where’s Jeanine? I bet she’ll drive us. She loves watching them play.”

They found her near the front of the house, sitting on the floor smoking a cigarette with a few people Zach didn’t know. “Well, look at you,” she said when she saw Zach holding the beer. “It just doesn’t look right.”

“It isn’t right,” Zach said. “Too late now, though.”

“I’m kind of bummed out, Zach,” she said. “It was kind of cute how you held out for so long.”

“Nothing lasts forever. At least I’m not smoking.”

“Hmm,” she said. “It’s funny to see you like this. You’re so happy. Usually you’re just moping around, looking at the floor.”

“You seem different too,” Zach said. “You’re so serious.”

“It’s all in your head.”

“We were thinking about taking a ride over to see the guys playing over in Philly,” Zach said. “Oh, yeah, Jeanine, this is Barbara. She’s in my music class at school.”

“Hi,” both girls said at the same time.

“So what do you think?” Zach asked. “Should we go see the show?”

“Yeah, sure. Why not?” Jeanine said. “I’m driving?”

“Would you mind?” Zach asked.

“Do they know you’re coming?” Jeanine asked. “I hope they’ll be okay about it.”

“I think they will. If not, tough. I’m allowed to go to a club aren’t I?”

“Well, no, actually. You’re not old enough. You only got away with it when you were in the band.”

“Let’s just go, we’ll get in somehow,” Zach said. “I’ll tell Glimmer to take a hike and then presto! I’m in the band again!”

Chapter 23

“I know where we can park for six dollars,” Jeanine said. They were on the Walt Whitman Bridge crossing the Delaware River into Philadelphia. It would only be a few more minutes before they reached South Street, an offbeat strip of restaurants, bars and clubs. Zach pulled out a five-dollar bill and passed it to Barbara in the front seat.

“What’s the name of the place we’re going?” Barbara asked.

“The Black Diamond,” Jeanine told her.

“Nervous, Zach?” Barbara asked after turning around. “Is it going to be hard seeing them up there without you?”

“Probably,” Zach said. “I’m pretty jacked right now, though. Nothing’s going to get to me.”

Jeanine handed some bills to a woman who was sealed in a glass booth and then they parked in a litter-strewn square of asphalt a couple blocks away from South Street. They could see hordes of people on the street as they approached. Despite the cold they were cavorting along the sidewalk from club to club, many with beverages in their hands. Zach hadn’t been on South Street very often. That was partly because he didn’t have the money to spend bar hopping but mostly because he wasn’t old enough to get into any of the clubs. He had no idea where the Black Diamond was but apparently that wasn’t a problem for Jeanine, who led the way without breaking stride.

“Hopefully they’ll let you two in,” she said when they could see the Black Diamond about forty feet ahead.

“Yeah, wouldn’t that be something if we couldn’t get in,” Barbara said. “I hadn’t even thought of that.”

“I don’t hear any music,” Jeanine said when they reached the door. “They might be on break, or maybe they didn’t even start yet. I’ve got an idea.” She told them what to do and then disappeared inside.

Barbara and Zach walked a few doors further down the street, their pace slowed by a large pack of slow moving college-aged kids that blocked the entire sidewalk. They cut through the first alley they came across and then doubled back behind the buildings in the direction they came from. “Do you think this is it?” Barbara asked when they came to a set of doors that seemed to be in the right place.

“It’s got to be one of these,” Zach said. “Let’s just wait, I think.”

Within two minutes a different door opened and Bo Herndon stuck his head out. “Zach?” he called out.

“Yeah, we’re over here,” Zach said.

“Come on, hurry,” Herndon said, waving his hand. Zach and Barbara slipped in and Herndon pulled the door shut behind them.

“Don’t tell anybody it was me that opened the door,” Herndon said. “I don’t want to go to jail.”

“Bo, this is Barbara,” Zach said. “She’s a mean guitar player, look out.”

“Glad to meet you,” Herndon said. “Are you an underage drinker too?”

She smiled. “Yeah. Thanks for letting us in.”

“This guy hasn’t partied in a long time,” Herndon said, pointing at Zach. “Until tonight, if the old Herndon breathalyzer is working right. Are you off the wagon now, Zach?”

Zach looked away without answering.

“Are you guys between sets?” Barbara asked.

“Nah, we haven’t started yet,” Herndon answered.

Just then Fauquier and Dumphries appeared. Fauquier was slinging a six-pack on his little finger. Four cans of Smythe Malt Liquor dangled from the plastic rings. “Zach!” Dumphries yelled. “Buddy, I’m glad you came!”

“Hey Toby,” Zach said, hugging his friend. “Let me have one of those,” he said to Fauquier as he reached over and wrenched one of the beer cans out of the plastic.

“Good man,” Fauquier said with a laugh. “Bottoms up!”

“Whoa,” Dumphries said. “You smell like you’re having a good time. What happened to prohibition?”

“I had a couple of beers,” Zach said. “Big deal, alright?” He popped the top on the warm can he had taken from Fauquier and took a sip.

“There’s room at the table in the front for you two,” Fauquier said. “Just don’t let the bouncers see you. Don’t get noticed. And don’t order any alcohol, whatever you do. They already threw two guys out. And I mean threw.”

“We can’t stay all night or anything. I’m wrestling tomorrow.”

“On Sunday?” Fauquier laughed. “Check your watch, my man. It is tomorrow.”

“Whatever,” Zach said. He tipped the can back and took a healthy swig. “Just keep the warm pig swill beer coming, Joe.”

“Zach, you’ve had enough,” Dumphries said. “You just got done saying you have a match tomorrow, remember?”

“Joe, we’re going to let Zach come up and sing one with us, right?” Herndon asked. “We can’t pass this up. He’s in top form tonight.”

“I don’t know,” Fauquier said. “How’s Glimmer going to feel about that?”

“Where is Glimmer’s ass anyway?” Zach said. “I want to have a heart to heart chat with him.”

Fauquier smiled and shrugged. “I don’t know, Bo. He might be a little too wired right now. Anyway, we didn’t sign him in so the bouncers might come after him. They’re strict about that here.”

“Come on, Joe,” Zach said. “It’s a good idea. One last time, come on.”

“There are two seats waiting for you guys, front row,” he said again, waving them away.

“Come on,” Barbara said, pulling Zach away. “Quit making a scene or we’ll be out on the street.” They walked out through a door next to the stage and found two empty seats at a long table filled with people they didn’t know. Seconds later the band took the stage.

After the first song ended Zach watched Glimmer as he grinned at somebody in the audience. “You suck!” Zach heard himself yelling. All five heads on stage instantly whirled in his direction. Herndon was laughing but the others looked worried. The pattern repeated itself over the next hour. Anytime Glimmer tried to interact with the audience Zach heckled him. Glimmer ignored it but Fauquier looked like he was getting madder each time it happened. A few songs into the show, after Zach began booing, Dumphries drew his finger across his own neck and then discretely motioned towards the back of the club. Zach turned and saw three huge men huddled together. One was pointing his finger directly at Zach.

After the next song Fauquier leaned into the microphone. “We’ve got a special guest in the audience, people,” he bellowed. “Zach Bowie is going to come up and sing one with us!” He motioned furiously for Zach to get on stage. When Zach looked behind him he realized why. The bouncers were coming down the aisle, probably for him. He hopped out of his seat and climbed onto the stage, half-expecting the bouncers to be right behind him.

Glimmer looked like he didn’t know what to do when he saw Zach coming at him. “Hey, man,” he said without any change in his expression. “I guess you’ll need this,” he said as he tapped the microphone, causing a loud, jarring pop.

“Thanks, Brother,” Zach said. “I bet Toby has a tambourine you can shake if you want to look busy.”

“Zach!” Fauquier hissed off-mike. “Right now, ‘Can’t Stop Lovin’ You’ on three. And you owe me one!”

As the song started Zach saw that the bouncers were retreating to the back of the club where they had come from. They looked as unhappy as they had been before. Two of them were waving their arms towards the stage and yelling things that Zach couldn’t hear. Zach started to think he might still have some problems when the song was over.

His throat was raw and he was covered with perspiration when Fauquier buried the song with one last distorted chord, outlasting a Dumphries drum fill. He was exhausted after what he was sure had been the most energetic performance he’d ever given. “Do it Zach, do it!” he heard Herndon yelling from behind his synthesizer as the crowd cheered. When Zach rose after taking a bow he saw two bouncers standing on either side of his empty chair, with Barbara looking on from hers.

“Sorry, Zach,” Fauquier said. “Looks like the show’s over for you.”

“No worries. I had my fun.” He hopped off the front of the stage and walked back to the table. “Good evening, gentlemen,” he said to the bouncers as he plopped into his seat.

“Did you come in through the back door?” one of them asked politely, but firmly.

“Yes,” Zach said, knowing there was no point in lying.

“Can you show us some ID?” the other asked. “We can waive the cover charge but we can’t let you stay if you’re not old enough.”

“Give me a break. You know I’m not. Cut the crap.”

“Lose the attitude,” the first said. “I’m afraid we have to escort you out.”

“Come on, just let me watch the freaking band,” Zach said. “I’ll keep quiet.”

One of them effortlessly yanked him out of the chair. “Let’s go. Right now.”

“Get your hands off me,” Zach said. He tried to pull out of the bouncer’s grip but it was too strong.

“Zach, let’s go,” Barbara said. “You were supposed to leave a long time ago anyway. It’s no big deal.”

“Keep talking, little lady,” one of the bouncers said. “Talk him down. Otherwise he’s going out the door head first.”

“Get your hands off of me!” Zach said again. He knew he couldn’t win but resisted anyway. The bouncer had at least six inches and eighty pounds on him. He tried again to twist away but the grip on his upper arm only got tighter. Then the other bouncer came up from behind and grabbed the other arm.

When Zach continued to struggle they’d had enough. “Let’s go,” one said. “You can walk, or I’ll knock you on your ass and carry you out. Nothing I ain’t done before.”

“Walk, Zach,” Barbara said. “It’s not worth embarrassing yourself over.”

Zach walked. It felt more like being dragged. As soon as they were out of view one of them spun Zach around and shoved him face first at the wall. Zach tried to slow his forward motion with his free hand. He felt a stabbing pain in his wrist when his hand hit the wall. “Can’t you just leave him alone?” he heard Barbara say. “He was walking out. What’s your problem?”

“I was in a good mood, tonight, too,” the bouncer said. “Now I’m back to being a professional prick.” He let go of Zach and backed away. “You know what to do, right?” he asked. He pointed at the door. His partner stood by with his huge arms folded across his huge chest.

“Come on, Zach, it’s time to go,” Barbara said, grabbing his arm. “Aaah!” Zach yelled, grabbing his wrist. “I’m cool, okay? I think you broke my wrist, you frigging gorilla!” he yelled in the bouncer’s direction. Barbara took his healthy arm and pulled him out the door and into the street before any more words were exchanged.

“You’re bleeding,” she said. “From your nose and also on the side there.” She pulled a tissue from her purse and dabbed at the blood.

“My chin feels all tingly where it hit the wall.” He tested his aching wrist by bending it. “Ow!” he said quickly. “Man, that hurts!”

“You should sue that guy. He didn’t need to go overboard like that. You didn’t even do anything wrong.”

“Yeah, but then my mom would find out I was sneaking around clubs in the city,” he said. “I don’t really blame him anyway. It gets pretty crazy. I’ve seen some guys go nutty. He has to figure I might get like that.”

She stopped dabbing and looked at him. “You’re kidding, right?”

“He’s just a guy doing his job.”

“That’s an interesting way to look at it,” Barbara said. They started walking up the street. There weren’t many people left out anymore. Zach thought he saw more police officers than partiers.

“What do we do now?” Barbara asked after five more minutes had passed. “Your girlfriend’s still in there. How do we get home?”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Zach said. “Maybe she’ll remember we couldn’t stay late. I’m sure she saw us leave, don’t you think?”

By the time Jeanine finally came out Barbara and Zach were walking up and down the sidewalk in front of the club trying to keep warm. “Sorry I took so long,” she said, offering no further explanation. Zach checked his watch after they walked back to the car and saw that it was well after two o’clock.

His mind turned back to wrestling an hour later when he was lying wide-awake in bed at home. There were three reasons why he was worried about the next day’s match. First, he would be tired and maybe even hung over after being out so late. Second, he wasn’t even sure how much beer he’d drunk and if he could still make the weight. That worried him to the point that he considered getting out of bed and going for a run to try to burn off some calories. Third, his wrist was still throbbing from when the bouncer had thrown him up against the wall. If he wasn’t able to wrestle he’d have to come with a fake story about how he got hurt. He decided to sleep on it. Maybe things would look better after the sun came up. If nothing else, he’d be more creative after some sleep.

Chapter 24

It was a difficult night for sleeping. Besides the unsettling effects of the beer, Zach had his injured wrist to deal with. He woke up at least once an hour in pain after rolling across it or bending it too far. At seven o’clock the next morning, three hours before he was due at the high school for the bus ride to Williamsboro, he gave up and got out of bed.

The dull ache in his head that he felt after standing up was all too familiar. It was his first hangover in nearly a year. If making weight were still an issue, eating or drinking anything would not have been an option. Since he knew he couldn’t wrestle anyway he helped himself to glass after glass of water the way he had always done to treat his hangovers. An hour later he was starting to feel human again.

The wrist felt much worse than it looked. There may have been some swelling, but not very much. It wasn’t his wrist, but his face that was going to make the biggest impression when it came to appearances. There were fresh abrasions on his nose and one near his left cheekbone. His chin was a sickening grayish purple color and was swollen into a knot on one side. He had already decided to tell Crisfield that he’d injured himself by slipping on some ice, but he was sure his always-suspicious coach would be skeptical.

The pain in his wrist bothered him enough that he considered waking his mother up to ask her what to do, but he decided against it in the end. She wouldn’t want to spend the money on a doctor visit unless he was sure something was seriously wrong. Even worse, she would probably scold him after forcing him to explain what happened and then order him to tell the entire truth to the coach. That wasn’t what Zach had in mind. Instead, he bundled up and set off on foot for the school before she woke up.

“What happened to you?” was a question Zach heard three times in five minutes after he arrived at the school. Each time he ignored it. He was early enough that the coaches and some wrestlers would still be hanging around in the locker room so he headed in there. Most faces turned towards him but he walked straight through and into the office, where Crisfield and Hancock were huddled over a clipboard.

“Uh oh,” Hancock said. “This doesn’t look good. What happened to you?”

“Got a second?” Zach asked.

“What in the world?” asked Crisfield.

“I slipped on some ice.”

“And landed on your face?” Crisfield asked. “Are you hurt?”

My wrist hurts pretty bad. I tried to catch myself when I fell. Now I can’t bend it.”

“So you can’t wrestle today?” Hancock asked.

“I don’t think so,” Zach answered.

“Come over here, let’s take a look at it,” Crisfield said.

As Zach crossed the room Hancock let out a long whistle. “That chin really took a beating too. Did you land on your wrist or your chin?”

Crisfield gently probed the joint with his fingers as Zach gritted his teeth. “It doesn’t feel like anything’s broken. Did you see the doctor?”

“No,” Zach answered. “I thought it might feel better in the morning. I just got up and came here.”

“Let’s see how far it bends,” Crisfield said. He slowly pushed the hand up, watching Zach’s face as he did it. When it reached a forty-five degree angle Zach grunted loudly enough to make Crisfield stop. “Not much range of motion,” Crisfield commented. “There’s no point in trying the other direction. There’s no way you’re wrestling today.”

“That really throws a monkey wrench in our plans,” Hancock said.

“Sure does,” Crisfield agreed. “It’s going to hurt big time. Where exactly did you encounter this huge sheet of ice? There hasn’t been any snow for days.”

“In front of my house,” Zach said solemnly.

“In front of your house,” Crisfield repeated. “Where do you live, the North Pole?”

“I swear, Coach. There’s one little icy strip on the sidewalk.”

“Sounds more like a glacier. We have to make sure the Williamsboro coaches don’t know he can’t wrestle,” Crisfield said to Hancock. “If they know we’re sending a sub out at 171 they’ll bump Mike Macon from 160 up to 171 to get him away from Mark. He’s not bad but Mark says he always pins him.”

“I’ll tell everybody to keep quiet,” Hancock said. “As a matter of fact, we won’t even tell anybody on our team who doesn’t already know. Right, Zach?”

“Okay,” Zach agreed.

“So we’ll weigh you in at 171 anyway, as a bluff,” Hancock said. “Try not to look like you’re injured. That way we’re not giving up too much information.”

“We better weigh Archie in, too,” Crisfield said. He was referring to Easton’s backup at 160, Archie Frederick. “If he can’t make 160 we’ll weigh him in at 171 with Zach. He may end up wrestling. But if they call our bluff and we have to put Zach out there we’ll just forfeit or default.”

That plan made Zach nervous because he didn’t think he could make weight. He didn’t want to say so until he checked his weight, which there was still time to do if he hurried. “Okay,” he replied.

After leaving the office Zach walked around the corner, heading for the scale. If only I hadn’t drunk so much water, he thought. He didn’t find the scale where it usually was. There was no use trying to find somebody to pull it out of the storage room. By then it would be time to leave. It would have to wait.

“Did you get in a fight?” Kevin Salisbury asked as he passed by Zach’s locker.

“I slipped on a patch of ice,” Zach answered.

“Oh, some ice,” Salisbury said sarcastically. “I heard you’re not wrestling today.”

“I can’t. I twisted my wrist up when I fell.”

“Who’s wrestling 171?” Salisbury asked. “I really want to beat this team. A couple of their guys at the wrestling club are shooting their mouths off.” Williamsboro was the next town over from Chapel Forge, so many of the wrestlers from the two teams knew each other well. Local bragging rights were at stake.

“Archie’s weighing in,” Zach said. “I’m not sure what weight.”

Salisbury didn’t say anything else before walking away but Zach could tell he was upset. Zach couldn’t blame him. He’d behaved stupidly the night before and now it was hurting the team. Nothing seemed to be going right for him anymore.

On the short bus ride to Williamsboro Zach considered walking to the front of the bus and confessing to his coaches that there was no way he could make weight. If he did that they’d at least have time to figure out some alternate strategy. In the end he elected to keep quiet. It might lead to a discussion of why he drank so much water, and he didn’t want to divulge that he had been out late drinking. Even worse, he would risk having to explain how the injury had really happened.

~~~

“We’re up to 160,” Vice Principal Calhoun of Williamsboro High School said. An old wrestler himself, Calhoun always supervised weigh-ins at home dual meets. He adjusted the mechanical scale appropriately and gestured to Coach Crisfield to send a wrestler. “This is Mark Easton,” Crisfield said. Easton, in white cotton briefs and with ribs and hip bones protruding from his tight skin, stepped onto the scale and made weight easily. After Williamsboro’s Macon also made weight Calhoun moved on to 171.

“This is Zach Bowie,” Crisfield said. Zach walked forward and carefully stepped onto the scale. The metal bar immediately shot upwards until it clanked with a thud. He hadn’t even been close. Zach leaned his head back and closed his eyes, his clamped lips betraying the worry and disgust he felt. At that moment he wished he could be anyplace else but where he was. Now he would have even more explaining to do. Coach Crisfield maintained his calm demeanor as he sent Archie Frederick to the scale. He was able to make 171, but the damage had been done. Williamsboro’s coach now knew that an inexperienced backup wrestler would be wrestling 171 rather than Zach, the regular starter.

“Drank a little water, did you?” Crisfield said angrily after the team returned to their locker room to dress for the match. “Why didn’t you tell me you were so far over? I could have weighed in another 160-pounder and then bumped Mark to 171.” He walked away without saying another word.

Zach prayed that one team would be way ahead of the other by the time the match reached the upper weights. That way his gaffe wouldn’t matter much. It was not to be. Heading into the 160 pound match Williamsboro held a slim 24-21 lead. The match was still very much on the line when Mark Easton stepped onto the mat. Nobody was surprised when Williamsboro didn’t send out Macon. Instead, they sent out Nick Fulton. They knew Easton would pin him too, but at least they would still have Macon saved for 171 where he’d have a chance against Frederick.

Easton made quick work of Fulton, pinning him in less than one minute. After Macon did the same to Frederick, the nightmare scenario had come true for Zach. Instead of sweeping all the team points in the two weight classes, Chapel Forge had earned only six while surrendering the same number. Williamsboro took two of the final three matches. Despite a pin by Bob Lanham at heavyweight, Williamsboro won the dual meet by the score of 36-33.

“Slipped on some ice my butt,” Salisbury said bitterly to Zach in the locker room. “We all know you were partying. You don’t give a rat’s ass about this team. I wish Coach would kick you off. You can kiss our top twenty ranking goodbye now.”

Normally Zach would have fired back at but he knew Salisbury was right. He had let the team down. Unable to look Salisbury in the eye, Zach turned and walked away, wishing he could somehow undo all the mistakes he’d made in the previous twelve hours.

The ride back to Chapel Forge was quiet. It lasted only fifteen minutes but it felt like hours to Zach. He moved up against the window and stared out the entire time because it was the easiest way to avoid eye contact with his angry and disappointed teammates. His wrist pulsed with pain, but that paled in comparison to the hurt he was feeling over what had happened to his team because of his actions. When the bus pulled up to the curb at the school he didn’t move until he was sure everybody else had gotten off. Then, with the driver watching him in his overhead mirror, Zach slowly walked up the aisle and stepped onto the curb without a word.

~~~

When Beth Ellicott saw Easton and the wrestlers trudge into the school she could tell their match hadn’t gone well. She was on her way from the gym to the locker room after practice but she stopped and waited for him. “You guys look like you just lost your best friend,” she said.

“We lost, alright,” Easton said. “To Williamsboro. We should have beaten them. Your pal didn’t help matters.”

“Zach?” she asked. “Did he lose?”

“He didn’t even make weight,” Easton told her. “But he couldn’t have wrestled anyway. He slipped on the sidewalk and hurt his wrist, or so he says.”

Beth paused for a moment to take it all in. “Where is he?” she asked.

“I know where he’ll be in a few minutes. Coach’s office. I think he’s getting the boot. The guy’s had one chance too many.”

“No!” she said, horrified. “They wouldn’t do that, would they?”

“Coach was pretty mad, just like everybody else. He pretty much told me on the way back that Zach is history.”

“Mark, he can’t do that,” she said. “He just got kicked out of his band because of wrestling.”

“He did?”

“Yeah, he did. And now he’s getting kicked out of wrestling, too?”

~~~

“Zach!” Coach Crisfield yelled as Zach was shuffling along the sidewalk away from the school, trying to be invisible. He hadn’t noticed Crisfield and Hancock lingering on the other side of the bus. “Come on over here,” Crisfield said. Zach put his head down and walked in their direction as slowly as he could.

~~~

“The guy’s a born loser, Beth,” Salisbury said. He’d heard most of the conversation after following Easton over to where Ellicott had waited. “We gave him every chance in the world to make it. I have to admit he pulled it off for longer than most of us expected. He had me fooled.”

“Come on, Kevin,” Easton said. “The deck’s stacked against him. Why don’t you cut him a break? If you were walking in his shoes would you be doing any better?”

~~~

As he entered the building flanked by his coaches Zach felt like a criminal being escorted into a courtroom. It got worse quickly when he finally looked up, only to see Easton, Salisbury and Beth Ellicott watching silently as the three passed. They walked through the locker room and into the coaches’ office. Zach took the usual plastic chair and waited for it to begin.

~~~

“I think you’re starting to like this guy,” Beth said after Salisbury walked away. “Did you mean what you said?”

“He can be a jackass but I do respect him,” Easton said. “Just think how hard it was for him to come back to the team this year when nobody expected it. Plus, he worked hard since last season. He worked harder than anybody else on the team. He’s not a bad wrestler. I hate to see his talent go to waste.”

“What can we do to help him out? You’re the captain.”

“Yeah, but the coaches were pretty pissed off. He cost us that match, and our ranking.”

“He gave up a lot to be here,” Beth said. “Now it’s all gone.”

Easton sighed. “I tell you what. I’ll try to talk Coach into changing his mind. It can’t hurt. I’ll try the ‘pity the poor boy’ angle.”

“Try something, please, Mark. Okay? It’s important.”

“But he’s got to keep training until we get him back on the team. It’s not just the conditioning. He dropped a lot of weight. It won’t take long for him to eat it all back. Then it’ll be too late.”

“If you promise to talk to the coach,” Beth said, “I’ll go by his house and tell him what you just told me. If he cares enough he’ll keep training.”

“I’ll do it,” Easton said. “I’ll talk to Coach on Monday. That’ll give him some time to cool off.”

~~~

“Let’s start with the wrist. Level with us, Zach,” Crisfield began. “How did you hurt it?”

“I told you already.”

“And if we were to take a drive over to your house, would we find this stretch of arctic tundra on the sidewalk?”

“Yup,” Zach answered. He was too far into the lie to get away with switching to the truth and he didn’t think it was going to matter anyway.

“I think you were out late with that band,” Crisfield said. “And you got into some kind of trouble. What do you think about that?”

“I’m not in the band anymore. You told me to quit so I did.”

“How about your weight? I’ve got the paperwork right here. When you weighed out last night you were a pound under. But at weigh-ins that scale clanked so hard I thought you’d fall off. What happened?”

“I was really thirsty this morning. And last night, too, after practice. I didn’t think I could wrestle anyway with my wrist and all so I drank a lot of water. I didn’t know it would matter if I made weight or not.”

“I’ve had it, Zach,” Crisfield said. “I’m tired of giving you chances. I’m suspending you from the team. I wanted to kick you off completely but Coach Hancock here talked me out of doing anything permanent. Of course, districts are seven days away, so it’s pretty permanent anyway.”

“Come on, Coach. I know I screwed up by not making weight. If you let me slide just one more time I promise I’ll be an angel from now on.”

“No more chances,” Crisfield said. “That’s all. Dismissed.”

Zach stood up hard, deliberately flipping the flimsy plastic chair hard enough that it clattered onto its back. “Up yours,” he said before slamming the door on his way out. He was thankful that nobody he knew was around as he passed through the lobby and back to what was left of his life.

Chapter 25

By the time Beth Ellicott made it over to Zach’s house that Saturday it was nearly dark. There were no lights on in the house, or at least none that she could see from her vantage point at the front door. She paused before knocking, almost as if she were still deciding what to say and how to say it.

The door swung open and Beth was face to face with a woman that could only be Zach’s mother. “Mrs. Bowie?” she asked.

“Yes,” the woman answered. “I’m Mrs. Bowie.”

“I’m Beth. I’m a friend of Zach’s from school.”

“Nice to meet you,” Mrs. Bowie answered without showing much emotion.

“Is Zach here?”

“He’s here,” she said with a shrug. “But something’s wrong.”

“I know all about it.”

“You do? Come on in,” Mrs. Bowie said, pushing the storm door open and stepping aside. “Let’s go into the kitchen.” She closed the door behind Beth and then led the way. “I don’t want him to hear us. He’s in his room,” she explained as they walked. “I’ve been home from work for a couple of hours. I talked to him through the door but I haven’t seen him. He won’t come out. That’s not like him at all. Something must have gone wrong at his match today. I know he’s lost a few matches. Maybe he lost again.”

“It’s worse than that,” Beth said. “He didn’t even wrestle today.”

“He didn’t? What happened?” she asked again.

“Well, Zach didn’t make weight this morning. He couldn’t have wrestled anyway, with his wrist, but the coach was pretty upset that he didn’t make weight.”

“His wrist?” Mrs. Bowie asked. “What about his wrist? Why am I always the last to know?”

“He hurt it last night. He said he slipped on some ice but nobody believed it. That’s part of why he’s in so much trouble, Mrs. Bowie.”

“Zach’s in trouble?” she asked, looking more alarmed with every word.

“The coach suspended him from the team today.”

Mrs. Bowie gasped. “What? Why? What happened? I guess you just got done telling me.” She put her head in her hands. “This is what happens when a mom tries to raise a boy all alone.”

“They think he was out partying when he hurt his wrist,” Beth said. “And they kind of lost the dual meet because he didn’t make weight. At least that’s what somebody told me.”

Mrs. Bowie stood up. “The first thing I need to do is find out if he’s hurt, and get that taken care of.” She started walking but stopped suddenly. “Will you help me?” she asked. “Maybe he’ll listen to you.”

“I’ll try, Mrs. Bowie. That’s why I came. I really like Zach. I’m worried too, just like you are.” They walked down the dark hall to his bedroom without another word.

“Zach?” Beth called after Mrs. Bowie pointed to a door. “It’s me. Beth.”

After thirty seconds of silence Mrs. Bowie spoke up. “Zach, Beth came out to see you. Come out and say hello, at least.” She reached around Beth to flip a switch, filling the hallway with fluorescent light and a faint buzzing sound.

“Leave me alone,” said Zach’s voice from the other side of the door.

“At least we know he’s in there,” Mrs. Bowie said. “I was beginning to wonder.”

“Zach, come on out for a minute,” Beth said. “Please. Just for a minute. We’re worried about you.”

He considered staying quiet until they went away but decided there was no point to that. He would eventually have to face up to what had happened. He opened the door halfway and peeked out of the dark room, squinting because of the hallway light.

“Oh Zach,” Mrs. Bowie said, gently pulling him into the hall and putting her arms around his shoulders. “Are you okay? What happened, baby?” Beth put her hands in her pockets and looked at the floor without saying anything.

“Mom, I screwed it all up,” Zach said. He bent his head down until it rested in his mother’s hair and tried not to cry. “I thought I could do everything but I screwed it all up. Now it’s all gone.”

“What’s gone?” Mrs. Bowie asked as she squeezed her son tighter. “And how’s your arm? Is it hurt bad? Beth told me everything.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore. The only things I wanted to do were wrestle and play in the band. Even if my wrist were okay I can’t do those things anymore.”

“It isn’t too late,” said Beth. “That’s why I came by, Zach. Mark sent me to tell you not to give up.”

“Easton? He doesn’t care.”

“Isn’t he the team captain?” Mrs. Bowie asked. “He’s the guy you beat out, isn’t he?”

“He’s the guy who calls me ‘Burnout.’ He hates me.”

“No he doesn’t,” Beth said, reaching out and putting her hand on Zach’s back. “He doesn’t hate you at all. He feels bad about everything that happened. On Monday he’s going in and talking to the coach about it.”

“About me? I don’t think so. Why would he do that for me?”

“Because he respects you,” she said. “And he likes you. But he was worried you’d gain all your weight back. It might take a few days to convince the coach. That’s why he told me to come and tell you to keep working out.”

Nobody said anything. Zach was shocked to hear that Easton was going to stick up for him. He never would have imagined that the opinion of somebody like Easton could matter so much to him, but what Beth told him changed everything. Maybe there was something to be hopeful about.

“Are you sure?” he asked Beth. “Why would he do that?”

“I just told you why.”

“What would I do about the band? I let them down too by dropping out.”

“One thing at a time, Zach,” Mrs. Bowie said.

“Yeah, I know,” Zach replied. “But what if the coach lets me come back? Would it be right if I went back to the team and still ditched the band, or the other way around? If they still want me. I don’t think it would be cool to do one without the other. I screwed them both.”

“This is getting way too complicated,” Beth said. “At least stay in shape until Monday. Will you promise me that? Otherwise I’m in trouble with Mark.”

“Yeah, I promise.” He put one arm around his mother and the other around Beth. “I don’t feel like jumping off a bridge anymore, at least.”

“I better go,” Beth said. “Would you mind if I came by tomorrow? I’m kind of worried about you, Zach.”

“I’d like that,” Zach said.

“Thank you, Beth,” Mrs. Bowie said. “You’ve done a lot of good here.”

After Beth left Mrs. Bowie tugged gently at her son, guiding him into the living room. “Tomorrow we’ll see about getting you to a doctor, after you show me that wrist. Right now, I want you to tell me everything.”

Chapter 26

When Zach woke up the next morning the first thing he did was check his wrist. He was pleased as he flexed and twisted it. There was less pain than there had been the night before. It still wasn’t healthy enough for wrestling but it felt like it was going to heal itself.

When he told his mother she was skeptical. “Zach, are you sure? It wouldn’t hurt to see a doctor.”

“It’s fine, Mom,” Zach said, knowing she was relieved that she wouldn’t have to arrange a doctor visit, or pay for one.

“Are you working out today? Remember what your girlfriend said.”

“She’s not my girlfriend, Mom. But I’ll go for my run like I always do. I don’t think the coach will take me back but I’ll be ready just in case.”

For the first time in weeks the temperature was above freezing, if only by a few degrees. Usually Zach ran his four-mile course and went back inside but this time he deviated. He looped past the Burger King and headed back towards the high school when he’d finished the four miles, finally stopping in the gym parking lot.

Still breathing hard, he walked into the gym to watch the youth league basketball games that were held there every Sunday. Some of the parents looked over as he walked up a sideline and climbed into the bleachers but nobody seemed very interested. Zach didn’t even like basketball but it felt good to be there, away from anything that reminded him of his problems.

~~~

Beth eased her Impala to the curb after coasting past the parked white van. She wondered how Zach’s spirits were holding up as she walked through the chain-link gate and up the walkway to the door. Her mission was to talk him through another day, long enough for Easton to have a chance to get him back on the team. Before she knocked she heard the long beep of a car horn. Without turning her head too far she determined that it had come from the van.

~~~

“Check it out,” Herndon said. “Hot chick at six o’clock getting out of that car. Now we know why Zach didn’t answer the door. He was expecting company.”

“I’ve never seen her before,” Dumphries said.

“Nor I,” Fauquier said.

“Nice jeans,” Herndon said as the girl walked towards the house. “Doesn’t it seem like every time we see Zach he’s got a different girl? Let’s see if we can get her to look.” He reached over and leaned on the horn.

”You moron,” Fauquier said in disgust as he pushed Herndon’s hand away. “Now it looks like I did it.”

~~~

Beth knocked a few times before conceding that nobody was home. She wasn’t anxious to leave the front step because she was nervous about whoever was in that van. After another minute of waiting she felt she had no choice but to leave.

“Looking for Zach?” a voice called from the van just before she pushed the rusty gate open.

“Yeah,” she shouted back, trying not to look startled. Knowing they were Zach’s friends put her at ease. “Have you seen him?”

“No,” Herndon answered. “We just got done doing the same thing you did.”

Ordinarily she’d have kept walking but out of a sense of urgency she approached the van and the rough-looking characters inside. “I really need to see him,” she said. “I guess you guys don’t have any idea where he is, either, huh?”

“Nope,” Herndon said.

“He might even be inside,” Beth said. “Last night he wouldn’t come out of his room.” By then she was standing at the passenger side window.

“Do you want to get in and wait with us?” Fauquier leaned over to ask. “Kind of chilly out there.”

“No, thanks,” Beth said.

“I talked to his mom last night but she wouldn’t let me see him,” Dumphries said. “We heard he got kicked off the wrestling team. Do you know anything about that?”

“Yeah, sort of,” Beth said, casually trying to get a better look inside the van. “You guys must be good friends of his.”

“He’s in our band,” Herndon said. “He was, anyway. Now that his schedule is freed up we’re here to get him to come back.”

“Oh, you guys are the band. He’s told me so much, I feel like I know you. You’ve got to be Joe,” she said, looking at Fauquier.

“Whatever he told you, it’s all true,” Herndon said.

“His schedule might not be so free,” Beth said. “We’re working on getting him back on the team.”

“What?” Herndon asked. “We were about to nab him!”

Suddenly they all turned to look when they heard the large black SUV that had come out of nowhere and was roaring down the street towards them. After it raced past Fauquier’s van and Beth’s Impala the brake lights flashed and the truck skidded to a stop in the mix of salt and sand that still covered the side streets. White reverse lights came on long enough for the truck to be maneuvered in front of the Impala. Seconds later Mark Easton walked up the street while watching Zach’s front door.

“Who’s this dork?” Herndon asked.

“Mark!” Beth yelled. “What are you doing here?” She walked toward him until they converged about thirty yards away from the van.

“I figured I’d make sure our boy was doing his part before I go to the coach. Is he here?”

“Nobody’s seen him. Nobody answered the door either.”

“Who are those dorks in the van?” Easton asked.

“That’s Zach’s band,” Beth explained. “They’re here on a recruiting trip. News travels fast. They were already here when I pulled up.”

Beth had been walking backwards toward the van while she and Easton talked. Herndon stuck his head out the window and yelled “What’s up?” in Easton’s direction.

“Hey,” Easton said when he and Beth reached the window.

“So let me get this straight,” Dumphries said from the back. “We kicked him out a few weeks ago. You kicked him off the team yesterday. Now we’re all here trying to get him back?”

“I heard he got kicked out of the glee club, too,” Herndon said. “I guess they’ll be here any minute. What do you think they ride around in?”

“Which will he choose?” Dumphries wondered aloud. “Us or you?”

“Well, Zach said something weird last night,” Beth said. “I don’t think he’ll go back to just one. Just wrestling or just the band, I mean. He’s afraid he’d be letting the other side down. I think he’ll do both or neither.”

“Do you two want to get in?” Fauquier asked. “I’m going to start it up to get some heat going.”

Easton and Beth looked at each other and nodded. Dumphries slid the side door open and they moved to the rear bench seat while Fauquier started the engine.

“So who are you two, anyway?” Herndon asked.

“I’m Beth. I’m a friend of Zach’s from school.”

“Mark Easton. I’m Zach’s wrestling teammate. How about you guys?” he asked. “You’re from the band? Didn’t you come to one of our matches?”

“Yeah,” Herndon said. “That’s Joe, that’s Toby, and I’m Bo,” he said as he pointed each musician out.

“You’ve really made an impression,” Dumphries told Beth. “That’s the first time he’s ever introduced us by our real names.”

“So you’re the big boy that our Zach looked up to so much,” Fauquier said as he sized Easton up. “He wanted to be just like you. With the Joe Jockstrap haircut and everything.”

“Not really,” Easton said. “He doesn’t even like me. He may be putting on the ‘Mr. Clean’ act but he’s more like you than me. Always has been.”

“Do any of you know what really happened to his wrist?” Beth asked.

“Yeah, we know,” Dumphries said. “Is it a secret?”

“Sure it is,” Beth said. “If the coach finds out it happened when he was doing something stupid he’s not going to like it.”

“Coach Crisfield knows the story about slipping on the ice is bogus,” Easton said. “Trust me on that one.”

“So what really happened?” Beth asked again.

“I don’t know,” Dumphries said. “Are we getting Zach in trouble with your buddy here if we tell?” he asked, pointing at Easton.

“I won’t say anything,” Easton said. “I want him back, remember? I’m just saying that they know he’s lying about it.”

They explained to Beth and Easton how Zach had come to the show drunk and ended getting into a scuffle with the bouncers. When they were done Beth was laughing and shaking her head. “Oh my God. There’s so much I don’t know about him,” she said. “He’s got a whole other side.”

“A whole other life, you mean,” said Easton.

“That’s not typical Zach behavior,” Dumphries reminded them.

“So how about on your end,” Herndon said. “What happened all of a sudden? Why did he get kicked off the team? Don’t you know how hard he was trying?”

“First of all, he shows up with a hangover and an injured wrist and some goofy story about how it happened,” Easton said. “It didn’t help that his face was all beat up, like he’d been in a fight. Then, he was overweight so we couldn’t even weigh him in. So the other team knew ahead of time that we’d be sending a scrub out to wrestle in his place and they took advantage of it. It cost us the match and Coach didn’t like it. He’s been pretty close to getting thrown out all year because he always gives the coach a hard time.”

“I didn’t understand a word you said,” Fauquier told him.

“Well, let me put it this way. If he’s trying to be like me, it isn’t working,” Easton said. “It seems like he pulls all-nighters with you burnouts before every match.”

“But you still want him back,” Herndon said. “How bad could it have been?”

“We’ve all got a stake in this guy,” Dumphries said. “It’s funny how things work out.”

“But let’s say he gets back on your team,” Fauquier said. “Doesn’t that mean he can’t come back with us? Wasn’t that a problem in the first place?”

“Only if the coach knows about it,” Easton said. “I won’t say anything. There are only a couple weeks left in the season anyway.”

“What’s in it for you?” Dumphries asked, looking at Easton. “Aren’t you the guy Zach was always fighting with? Why would you want him back on the team?”

“He could ask the same question right back at you,” Beth said. “Why do you want him back in the band? If you wanted him, why kick him out in the first place? And why would you care about helping us get back on the team?”

“Who said we cared about him being on the wrestling team?” Fauquier asked from the front seat.

“Well, she said a few minutes ago that Zach told her he would do both or do neither,” Dumphries said as he gestured towards Beth. “That’s why we all need him to do both. That’s why we all care.”

“Like I said,” Easton said. “There are only two weeks of wrestling left. I don’t see why we can’t get him through both.”

“You never answered my question,” Herndon said to Easton. “Why does a guy like you care if Zach does either one? What’s it to you? He’s nothing but trouble for your team and the band doesn’t mean anything to you.”

“I like the guy, alright?” Easton said with exasperation. “He pissed me off at first but now I get it with him. And I think he has a crappy life.” He was drumming nervously with both hands on the back of the seat in front of him as he spoke. “I’d just like to see him get a break for once.”

“You never answered the question either,” Beth said to Herndon. “”You kicked him out of the band a long time ago. So why are you here?”

“Look, it’s simple,” Fauquier said before Herndon could speak. “We’re a better band with him than without him. It’s the difference between getting signed and playing bar mitzvahs forever.”

“So let’s say Mark talks the coach into letting him back onto the team,” Beth said. “Then what? What are you guys going to do?”

“We want him back,” Dumphries said. He looked at Fauquier who nodded in agreement. “It doesn’t matter about the wrestling. We’ll work around it. It’s just for another two weeks anyway.” He pulled out a cigarette and put it in his mouth before patting himself down for a lighter.

“Until next year,” said Herndon.

“Do you have to smoke?” Easton said. “I’m out the door if you do.”

“So that’s where Zach gets it from,” said Herndon. Dumphries yanked the cigarette out of his mouth and tossed it at Herndon.

“Well, I guess we have to wait and see what happens with the coach tomorrow,” Beth said. “Right? For now, everything depends on that.”

“Don’t forget about his wrist,” Easton said. “I don’t know about the band but I know he can’t wrestle yet. At least he couldn’t yesterday.”

“We have to know what he’s going to do, sooner rather than later,” Fauquier said. “We’ve got a showcase to play next weekend. We need to know if Zach’s in or out by Wednesday or so.”

“What’s a showcase?” asked Easton.

“We play for a bunch of guys in suits over in Philly,” Herndon said. “Supposedly they’re talent scouts, or just big wheels hiring bands for big shows, stuff like that. It’s like a contest,” he explained. “We play Friday. If we’re good enough they invite us back to play again on Saturday.”

“What time?” Easton asked. “The district tournament is this weekend.”

“Man,” Dumphries said, pounding the ceiling with a fist.

“It’ll be late on Friday,” Fauquier said. “Probably ten or eleven o’clock.”

Easton shrugged. “I guess that could be okay. It’s not like he’s never wrestled on just three hours of sleep before. We should be done by then, anyway. What about Saturday?”

“I don’t know,” Fauquier said. “I’d have to check.”

“Is there a chance it could be at night again?” Beth asked. “What time would the tournament be over, Mark?”

“Pretty early, since it’s just districts. Like six or seven o’clock, usually,” said Easton.

“Of course, we’d have to get Zach over to Philly in time somehow,” Dumphries said. “We’ll already be there setting up.”

“I’ll figure something out,” Beth said. “I have a game on Friday but I’ll find somebody to drive him.”

“Jeanine could always do it,” Herndon suggested.

Beth scowled. “Not her,” she said crossly.

“That’s a minor detail,” Dumphries said.

“But an important one,” Fauquier said.

“Look, why don’t you all give me your phone numbers?” Beth suggested. “I’ll keep everybody up to date on what’s happening and what they need to do.” They recited their numbers one at a time to Beth, who jotted them down on her hand. Then she and Easton moved toward the door.

“Sweetie, when you leave, walk real slow to your car,” Herndon said to Beth. “I want one more look at those jeans.”

“Shut up, Stoner,” Easton said. “We’re in this together but it doesn’t mean I’m putting up with anything like that.” Herndon winked at him without replying.

Easton and Beth left the van, which sped away seconds later. “Let me know how it goes with the coach,” Beth said.

“I’ll call you,” Easton promised before they both got into their own vehicles and drove away. Five minutes later Zach ran up to his front door from the direction of the high school and let himself into the house.

Chapter 27

Instead of waiting for wrestling practice to talk to Coach Crisfield on Monday Mark Easton decided to get it done early. He knew Crisfield was always in his office before school so he walked to the locker room and knocked on the door.

“Coach, can I talk to you?” Easton asked.

“Come on in,” Crisfield said. “I was just sorting through all this paperwork for districts. It gets worse every year. So what’s up?”

“Well,” Easton began.

“Don’t tell me,” interrupted Crisfield. “You want to move up to 171 now that Bowie’s gone, right?”

“No.“

“Good. The last thing you need is to change weight classes again. You’d be too light now, no matter how much you weighed.”

“It is about Bowie, though. Some of the guys think maybe he should get one more chance. We think he should wrestle in districts.”

Crisfield removed his glasses and stared across the desk at Easton. “Now where in the world did that come from? There’s no love lost between you two guys.”

“I know he can be a real pain in the butt. Nobody hates it more than me when he freaks out. It’s usually at me. But I’ve gotten to know him some. I can see why he’s so hard to deal with. He never gets a break. He’s got it pretty tough at home,” he said, using one of his many rehearsed lines.

“Come on, Mark,” Crisfield said. “You think he’s the only guy in the world with divorced parents? Hell, he’s not even the only guy on this team with divorced parents.”

“Yeah, but this is different. He’s never even seen his father. He lives in this dumpy little house over by the pike. His mother works like twenty-four hours a day, so he’s pretty much raising himself. And the guys in his band are always giving him all kinds of grief because of wrestling. Until they kicked him out, I mean.”

“He told me he quit. So that was another lie.”

“Just think how hard he worked since last season,” Easton continued. “I’ve never seen anybody come as far as he did. He’s committed to this. If you take it away after all he’s done it’ll kill him.”

“Why isn’t Kevin here with you?” Crisfield asked. “Hasn’t he joined the fan club too?”

Easton shrugged. “It isn’t unanimous,” he allowed. “But Tim Betterton agrees with me.”

“But Kevin doesn’t,” Crisfield said sharply. “Well unfortunately for you guys, you don’t have very much input on a decision like this. It’s my call and you haven’t convinced me.”

“You’re making a mistake.”

Crisfield laughed. “Now I’m getting advice from an eighteen-year-old kid. Look, Mark, I know you mean well and I respect you for what you’re trying to do. When I was your age I might have thought the same thing. But I’ve been around longer than you so I’m a better judge of character. I’ve seen kids like Bowie over and over. It’s never a happy ending. You’re better off not getting involved with a bad apple like him. He’s going nowhere no matter how many extra chances I give him. I hate to be brutal about it but I don’t want you getting caught up in this. He’ll bring you down.”

“Maybe he’d be going somewhere if somebody would give him a chance,” Easton said. “If you took the time to get to know him maybe you’d understand better.”

“I’m usually pretty close on this type of thing. Besides, he probably weighs two-hundred pounds by now.”

“No,” Easton said. “We made him promise to stay on weight. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here.”

“So there is a fan club,” Crisfield said. He paused for a moment. “I can honestly say that I’m impressed. Who’s in on this with you?”

“Me and Tim. And a few of Zach’s friends who are looking out for him.”

“Very interesting. When did you come up with this ‘Free Zach’ campaign?”

“We got together on Sunday,” Easton said, not adding that the meeting had been an accident.

“I’m impressed,” Crisfield said again.

Easton stood up suddenly. “I’m late for homeroom. I better go.”

“I can write you a pass,” Crisfield offered.

“I’ll make it.”

“Mark?” Crisfield said when Easton reached the doorway. “I’ll take what you said into consideration.”

“Thanks,” Easton said before disappearing. He’d done his part.

~~~

“Zach, how’s the wrist feeling?” Tim Betterton asked when he found Zach sitting alone in the cafeteria during lunch on Monday.

“Hi Tim,” Zach said. “It feels a lot better.”

“Did you get it looked at by a doctor?

“Nah. He’d just give it a fancy name and hand me a bill. It wouldn’t heal up any faster.”

“Easton talked to Crisfield this morning. He told him there was a team meeting and everybody there wanted him to reinstate you.”

“Is that true?” Zach asked incredulously.

“Sort of. Everybody at the meeting agreed. All two of us.”

Zach smiled. “Thanks. I hope he let’s me come back. I know I screwed up.”

“Maybe you should tell Coach that,” Betterton suggested.

“I probably should,” agreed Zach.

“How’s your weight? Mark said you’d be keeping it down.”

“I don’t have a scale, but I had a good hard run yesterday. I will today, too. And I haven’t eaten much. I can’t do much else with my wrist like this.”

“That’s good enough. We’ll work on Crisfield some more at practice today. I’ll let you know if I hear anything.”

~~~

“Now we’ve gone and done it,” Bo Herndon said a few seconds after the door slammed. “Goodbye Glimmer, it was nice knowing you.” Band practice had hardly begun and now it looked as though it might be over.

“Relax,” Fauquier said over the sound of a gunning engine and squealing wheels. “I see him every day. He’ll still be there if we need him.”

“What makes you think that?” Herndon asked. “Was it the way he flipped you the bird? Or the patch of rubber he just left out front? He’s gone for good, Joe.”

“I thought we weren’t going to tell him about Zach coming back unless we knew it for sure,” Dumphries said.

“Who knew he’d go ballistic?” Fauquier asked. “At least we were up front about it.”

“Yeah, right. Up front?” Dumphries scoffed. “We’re screwing him over. I don’t blame him for being pissed. At least we could have waited until we knew we had Zach. It’s just as sleazy but at least we wouldn’t be stuck without a singer.”

“What’s with you guys?” Fauquier asked. “You hated me for hiring him and now you hate me for firing him.”

“So what’s going on with Zach, anyway? Did that chick ever call?” Herndon asked. Dumphries and Fauquier shook their heads.

“Why can’t he just come and play with us anyway?” Herndon asked. “What difference does wrestling make? We’re giving him another shot. He should take it.”

“He probably doesn’t see it that way,” Dumphries said. “We’re the ones who chucked him out. He doesn’t owe us diddly-squat.”

~~~

When Wednesday night came Zach didn’t want to attend the Chapel Forge dual meet. It was the last one of the season, to be followed by the district tournament two nights later. Although he still wanted badly to get back in the lineup, he didn’t see what could be gained by sitting in the bleachers watching. Crisfield might not even notice he was there. He’d agreed to the plan that Beth had spelled out for him that afternoon, though, and part of that plan was watching the match. The harder part would come afterwards.

After school he’d gone for a long run, the same way he had on Monday and Tuesday. He considered lifting weights but decided against it. The wrist still ached but he thought if he was careful he could wrestle in the district tournament if Crisfield changed his mind. Once he cooled down he showered and wrapped the wrist in an Ace bandage. Then he walked to the school and bought a wrestling match ticket for the first time in his life. As he watched the bouts he practiced the words he’d use when the time came to talk to Crisfield. It would be one of the most important conversations he would ever have.

~~~

The presence of a backup 171-pounder had little effect on the dual meet, which Chapel Forge lost decisively to Linden. Neither team showed much emotion about the result. The match, a makeup of one that was snowed out in January, meant little to either team. Nobody on either side was thinking about anything except districts, which were less than forty-eight hours away.

When Coaches Crisfield and Hancock separated themselves from the crowd of wrestlers chatting on the mat Zach saw his chance. His stomach churned with nervousness as he stepped down the bleachers and walked over. The words began to pour out of Zach when he was still more than five feet away from the coaches.

“Coach Crisfield and Coach Hancock,” he began, “I just want to tell you how sorry I am for screwing up so bad. I know I hurt the team. I’d do anything to go back in time and do everything all over again. It wasn’t that I don’t care about the team. I guess I don’t know what happened. But I’m really sorry and I know I was wrong.”

Both men looked at him with the same dour expression. “I don’t suppose I need to list everything you did wrong,” Crisfield said. “Besides getting hurt and being overweight, you lied to us about how it happened. As a matter of fact, I think you lied about all kinds of things. That’s the part I have the most trouble with.”

“I know. I guess I was afraid to tell the truth.”

“There are a lot of people pleading your case,” Crisfield said. “I didn’t know you had so many friends. Did you?”

“No. Not until now.”

“From what I’ve heard, your weight isn’t a problem,” Crisfield said. “Is that still true?”

“I’ve been running. I can still make the weight.”

“How about the wrist?” Hancock asked. “Don’t forget about that. Did you get it checked out?”

“I could wrestle The time off actually helped.”

Crisfield and Hancock looked at each other. Zach could tell they hadn’t expected this. “I’d really like to come back to the team. I can behave better.”

“Okay, Zach,” Crisfield finally said. “I can’t believe I’m going back on what I said. You’re back in. Just make sure you keep yourself in line. You have absolutely no room for error. None. Understood?” He extended his hand as he said it. Thanks to an unlikely alliance of his peers Zach was back in the lineup and probably the band as well. It was going to be a complicated weekend but Zach wouldn’t have it any other way.

Chapter 28

When Zach walked onto the mats at Cedar Creek High School Friday evening after weighing in and dressing he tried to remember the district tournament from a year earlier. As a JV substitute he had been seeded low. He had known going in that everybody expected him to be eliminated without winning a match, which was exactly what happened. This time the situation was different. His record of 16-9 wasn’t outstanding but it was good enough to land the sixth seed at 171 pounds. All he needed to do was finish three spots higher than he was seeded in order to advance to the region tournament the next week. He had lost close matches against top-seeded Luis Sanibel and second-seeded Rennie Brandon during the season, which was part of the justification for his low seed. Making it out of districts wasn’t out of the question if he wrestled well because he had come close to beating those two during the season.

Fauquier and the band were probably on their way to Philadelphia for the showcase presentation, Zach figured. Dumphries had been relieved to get the phone call on Wednesday after Zach knew he was back on the team because it also meant that the band wouldn’t enter the showcase without a singer. After the wrestling was over that night Zach would be delivered to a ballroom in the Center City Four Seasons Hotel where he would morph from wrestler to rocker.

He wasn’t worried about what it would be like back with the band. After ten minutes it had been just like old times during the practice session he’d gone to the night before. They’d even run through the songs that Joe wanted to play at the showcase. All he had to do was get there, something that had already been arranged.

The tight Ace bandage on his wrist that the trainer recommended bothered him and he didn’t understand how it would help on the mat anyway. She’d told him that it would help prevent the wrist from bending too far, which was the least of his worries. He was far more concerned about his inability to grip, something that the Ace bandage had no effect on. After ten minutes he ripped it off and stuffed it into a pocket.

There was still an hour to go before the opening session would begin. Every few minutes another wrestler or two emerged from the locker room and headed for the mats. Some sat or lay passively while others stretched. A few jogged casually around the perimeter of the mats. Two wrestlers in green uniforms shuffled up and down the mats sideways in their wrestling stances, making sure never to cross their feet.

A crowd of men in street clothes milled around in front of the bracket sheets that were taped to the wall. Zach recognized some of them as coaches. The rest must be wrestling dads tracking their sons, he decided. Some copied information slowly and deliberately while others darted from sheet to sheet as if they were making a mental list of bouts they didn’t want to miss.

As the start time drew closer wrestlers reached the mats in bigger groups and at a faster rate. Each of the twelve teams staked out an area as their home base, but there was some inter-team mingling. Within each team’s domain some wrestlers practiced moves or loosened up while others lounged. Some had stern looks on their faces while others laughed and talked. Zach saw some drills that he’d never seen before. That intimidated him because he knew he was one of the least schooled wrestlers there.

Being seeded sixth meant Zach would have to win twice on Friday night to survive until the next day. “Don’t worry about it,” Tim Betterton had advised him. “Wrestling somebody who’s seeded eleventh in his own district shouldn’t be any harder than doing a few extra pushups.”

“That was me last year.”

“You’ll hardly break a sweat.”

When the other Chapel Forge wrestlers finally made their way out of the locker room Zach made a point to seek out Mark Easton. He hadn’t had a chance to talk with him one-on-one since being reinstated. “Thanks, man,” he said as he slapped him awkwardly on the shoulder. “You didn’t have to do it.”

“No problem,” Easton said. “I was just doing my job. We have a better chance of winning the tournament this way.”

“Yeah, well thanks. I won’t screw up again.”

“You better start thinking about your match. The prelims go quick. There’s only one or two in each weight class. You’ll be up sooner than you think.”

Most of the Chapel Forge wrestlers didn’t seem to care much about Zach’s return and didn’t say anything to him. It had always been that way so Zach didn’t think much about it. Most were busy preparing for their own matches, just as Zach was. Even Kevin Salisbury, who had been so angry about the Williamsboro match just a few days earlier, nodded at Zach without saying a word.

A few minutes before the session was scheduled to start Zach loped around the mats a few times trying to loosen up. By then tournament officials were bustling around the gym, busy with last minute preparations. Timers, ankle bands, pencils and score sheets were delivered to each mat table. Scoreboards were rolled into place and plugged in. Buzzers and air horns sounded around the gym as equipment was tested. Stacks of papers were brought to the head table where they were sorted and distributed. Zach tried not to laugh when a man carrying a stack of neatly folded souvenir shirts tripped over a power cord and dropped the shirts into a heap.

Moments after the session began Easton found Zach in the bleachers. “I forgot to ask. You know what to do after your second match, right? Your hippie girlfriend is driving you into the city.”

“Yeah,” Zach said. “Thanks, I remember.”

“You can just head down that hallway by the snack bar as soon as you can get away from Coach. There’s a door there. Somebody will have your stuff there waiting. If the coaches hold on to you too long we’ll come around and distract them.”

“I hope I don’t get anybody else suspended for this.”

“It’ll be okay. We already have a cover story for the coach. He thinks you’re riding home with my dad and me. Just bring everything into the car when you leave for the show. You’ll have to change in the car. I doubt if she’ll see anything she hasn’t seen before.”

“Her name’s Jeanine,” Zach said.

“Jeanine, okay,” Easton said. “Is she even here yet?”

“No. But it’s early. She’ll be here.”

“Yeah, I’m not worried. She seemed like she was into it. You won’t be able to go for at least two hours anyway.”

~~~

Before any matches had been wrestled Crisfield gathered his wrestlers around him. “This is it,” he told his team. “It’s a new season. Nothing matters anymore except what happens starting tonight. If you win you advance. If you lose, you’re done. Leave everything you have on the mat, understand? Don’t walk away wondering if you could have done more. Understood?”

Everybody nodded. “Put it in here,” Easton said. Each wrestler leaned towards him and put their hand on top of his. “Remember what Coach said,” he told them. “Leave it on the mat. One Two Three!”

“Chapel Forge!” they all roared, the way they had before every dual meet. Crisfield nodded with approval as the group dispersed.

Just as he had been led to expect, the preliminary round went quickly and Zach’s match was called on deck soon after the session started. When the announcement was made Coach Hancock walked over to retrieve Zach, who was in a corner of the gym jumping up and down and swinging his arms to loosen up.

“Don’t go thinking this match is a ‘gimme’ now,” he said. “From here on in it’s sudden death. If you lose you’re done. Wait until after the match is over before you decide if it was easy.”

“Got it, Coach,” Zach said. “I can’t even remember the last time I won a match.”

“How’s the wrist feel?”

“Not too bad. But I can’t grip very hard,” he said, opening and closing his hand.

“You’ll just have to make do. At least you’ve got another hand. Just use your head and you’ll be fine.”

Zach was to face Luke Avero, a sophomore from Newcastle. According to the bracket sheet Avero came to the districts with a record of 6-14. “That doesn’t seem that bad for such a low seed,” Zach had complained to Betterton earlier. “I was hoping for a guy who hadn’t won any matches.” Zach knew he should win, though, even with the bad wrist and weak hand.

He tried to score with his fireman’s carry for most of the first period, even after the Newcastle coaches had yelled “Watch the fireman’s” at least fifteen times. Finally, Coach Hancock got tired of watching Avero snuff it out and yelled “It’s not there!” Zach decided to try something else but before he could Avero shot at his legs looking for a takedown of his own. He was able to get his arms around both of Zach’s legs but the hold was weak. It took only a few seconds for Zach to cross-face Avero and spin behind for a takedown and a 2-0 lead.

Avero chose the bottom position to start the second period. Zach had already planned on trying the cross-face cradle ride that Coach Crisfield had taught in practice a week earlier. When the referee started the period Zach reached across and grabbed Avero’s far shoulder. This had the effect of placing Zach’s forearm against Avero’s face, pinning his head against the shoulder.

Zach hadn’t thought about the wrist injury when he decided on the move. He was able to overcome the weakness of his grip by hooking his hand on the shoulder but the pressure of Avero’s face on the wrist was painful. He tried to work the move as quickly as possible, hoping that a change in position would help. With his free arm he reached through Avero’s legs from behind. After a brief struggle he locked his hands, completing the tight cradle. He glanced at the clock before trying to turn Avero to his back and saw that only thirty seconds had elapsed. There was more than enough time.

Zach shifted his body behind Avero’s and began pulling him backwards. He could tell almost immediately that his hands weren’t going to stay locked because the grip of his bad hand was just not strong enough. He paused to adjust his grip by grabbing his bad wrist with his good hand, replacing the original hand-to-hand clinch. That worked better, and made the cradle even tighter, but it was more painful because he was now squeezing his own injured wrist. He ignored the pain, knowing that if all went well it would be over quickly.

After planting one foot firmly on the mat Zach wrenched his opponent backwards until he was on his back. Avero began to flail but when Zach dug his knee deep into Avero’s side, just below the rib cage, the rocking motion subsided. The pain in his wrist slowly ratcheted up, but Zach was determined keep the cradle in place and win the match right there. Somehow Avero was holding on.

He had a clear view of the clock and watched as time ticked away. The cradle still felt tight and he didn’t know anything else he could do to improve it. When the clock had run down to thirty-five seconds Zach began to think that there was going to be a third period after all. Then, as he was straining to hear what Coach Crisfield was yelling, the referee called the pin. Zach released Avero, rolled away and flexed his throbbing wrist as he lay on his back near the center of the mat.

“Zach is back!” Hancock said afterwards. “I hope you’re ready to go. The next round isn’t far away.”

“How’s that wrist?” Crisfield asked.

“It hurts. I can wrestle through it.”

“Okay,” Crisfield said with a nod. “Nice job.” He and Hancock left for another mat where George Prince had already been called on deck for a 215-pound preliminary round match. Zach collected his warmups and walked under the bleachers where he mopped his face with them before putting them on.

He heard his name being called as he walked back out from under the bleachers. When he turned and saw Jeanine he walked up the aisle and sat down next to her. “Hi,” he said, still breathing hard. “Thanks for coming.”

“Yuck!” she said. “You’re all slimy!”

“Yeah, but I finally won a match,” Zach said, forgetting momentarily that he was talking to somebody to whom that couldn’t mean any less.

“Joe says he needs you on stage by ten. It’s not even seven o’clock yet. We should make it with no problem.”

“I still have to wrestle again,” Zach pointed out. “But I think we’ll make it.”

“They told you where to go, right?” Jeanine asked. “All I know is what door to park at.”

“Yeah, down by the snack bar. Look, Jeanine, thanks for everything you’re doing. Everybody’s really doing a lot for me.”

“It’s all about the karma.”

Zach smiled. “Yeah, that must be it,” trying not to sound sarcastic. “Is that anything like ‘what goes around comes around’?”

Now it was her turn to smile. “Exactly!”

“It’s all about the karma,” Zach repeated.

“By the way, Joe wanted me to tell you that Max is playing with you guys tonight,” Jeanine said, referring to fill-in bassist Max Richmond. “So you just have to sing.”

“Good. I don’t even know if I could play with this,” he said as he held up his wrist.

He could see that the 103-pounders were back in action, which meant that the next session was underway. He apologized for running off before returning to the floor where he consulted the bracket sheets on the wall. Next up for him was Colin Collier of Vista. He knew nothing about Collier and decided to keep it that way. If he could beat Collier, the third seed, it stood to reason that he could place in the top three and advance to the region tournament the following week.

As he watched his teammates win matches a sense of calm came over Zach. Betterton, Salisbury and Easton all won with pins. Seeing other Chapel Forge wrestlers racking up victories made him feel more confident about his own chances.

“You held that cradle pretty good for a guy with a bad hand,” Coach Crisfield said after appearing abruptly at his side. “Maybe it’s not as bad as we thought.”

“It hurts like hell,” Zach said. “I just wanted that pin real bad.”

“I’d tell you to take it easy on it this time but somehow I don’t think you’ll go along with that,” Crisfield said.

“I’ll try. I just don’t know any one-handed moves.”

“When you’re on top you might try arm bars,” Crisfield suggested. ”You don’t need much grip strength for it and it won’t be much pressure on the wrist.”

Zach nodded. By then the current match had ended and it was time for them to move into their corner and prepare for the bout. Zach took his time stepping out of his warmup pants. As he pulled his singlet straps over his shoulders he took a good look at his opponent. Collier was tall and lean with electric red hair that was cut into a Mohawk. When Collier looked back over from across the mat Zach suddenly felt less confident. He had no idea what Collier’s wrestling pedigree was but he looked like a wrestler who knew what he had to do and usually got it done.

Collier tied up as soon as the match was under way. Zach felt uncomfortable in that position, knowing that Collier could use his height advantage to stand him straight up for a headlock or a throw. He was unable to break out of the tie up but managed to maneuver out of bounds for a new start. “Stay out of the tie!” Hancock yelled as the wrestlers walked back to the center of the mat.

When Collier reached high for another tie without bothering to defend down low Zach saw his chance. He shot quickly and grabbed Collier’s legs behind the knee and locked his hands. Pain shot up his arm but he ignored it, knowing that he was in a good position to score a takedown.

He tried pulling the legs into his chest but Collier’s resistance was too strong. When he felt his grip slipping he tried to salvage the situation by giving up one leg while tightening his hold on the other. He looked over to his coaches but his eye was caught by Betterton, who was gesturing frantically for Zach’s attention. As soon as he saw that Zach was watching he grabbed Salisbury and showed Zach what he needed to do to score.

After a quick study of Betterton’s demonstration Zach hooked Collier’s ankle with his own leg. Then he threw his arm across the close leg and behind the far leg before pushing Collier in that direction. Collier was unable to step back because Zach had that leg blocked, so he couldn’t avoid toppling to the mat. Zach had his takedown and the two points that came with it. Moving quickly before Collier got off his stomach, he inserted the arm bar that Crisfield had recommended. When he knew it was in securely he came out to the side and used the barred arm as a handle to turn Collier to his back. It ended up being worth only two back points, because Collier was able to wriggle out of danger, but Zach felt better than he had earlier now that he was taking a 4-0 lead into the second period.

When the whistle blew Zach was unable to stop Collier from standing up out of the bottom position. He locked his hands around Collier’s waist from behind but Collier was working hard on breaking that lock by pushing Zach’s hands down along his thigh. Zach grunted in pain and let go. Collier whirled to face Zach, the lead cut to 4-1 with the escape. Before Zach could avoid it Collier went back to the tie up and threw a headlock. He felt himself being pulled toward the mat and onto his back. In that split second his instincts told him to concede the takedown but fight off the back points. He went to his back briefly but was able to roll all the way through. When he was on his stomach he watched the referee shake his head from side to side in response to the cries of Collier’s coaches for back points.

The lead was down to 4-3 after the headlock resulted in two points for Collier. Zach was sure he didn’t have enough points to win yet. He faked a switch and then stood up just as Collier had done. Since Collier seemed to have been fooled by the fake switch, Zach faked another switch before quickly reversing directions. For whatever reason Collier chose to release Zach, surrendering a point.

There were twenty seconds remaining in the period. Zach expected Collier to tie up again and go for a jackpot headlock before time expired. Instead, Collier surprised him by diving at Zach’s ankle and picking it up. Just before the buzzer sounded Collier tripped Zach’s free leg and took him down to tie the match at 5-5.

Everywhere Zach looked he saw coaches and teammates signaling him to choose to start the final period on bottom, which he did. All he needed was an escape to win, but he didn’t relish the thought of trying to fight Collier and his dangerous headlock off in the neutral position. Again he went to the switch but this time it wasn’t a fake. He pivoted to his right, locked on Collier’s arm and swung behind for a reversal and two points. Collier grabbed Zach’s wrist and tried to re-switch immediately but Zach stepped over him to retain control. When Collier grabbed the wrist again and twisted it Zach understood that Collier was trying to wear him down by hurting him. The pain was more severe this time and Zach groaned audibly. Collier stood up and broke Zach’s grip the same way he had done earlier. With forty seconds left Zach was hanging on by a score of 7-6.

With both wrestlers on their feet Collier went back to the tie up. Despite the pain in his wrist Zach pummeled with Collier, each going for the inside position with their own hands. After fifteen seconds passed Collier seemed to sense that an upper body attack wasn’t going to work, so he flung Zach across the out-of-bounds line for a new start.

With nineteen seconds left Zach knew Collier would try to score on a quick shot the way he had at the end of the second period. When the whistle blew Zach hunkered down with his hands in front of him. The first time Collier shot in Zach easily staved him off but was too tired to counter with an attack of his own. Instead, he simply returned to his defensive stance. This time Collier shot wide, scooping Zach’s ankle up as he passed by. As Collier elevated the leg Zach checked the scoreboard and saw that he had to hold out for only twelve more seconds. He leaned into Collier and jammed his arm underneath Collier’s. That allowed him to step his free leg further out of reach of Collier’s foot sweep. With four seconds left Collier gave up on the trip and simply ran straight at Zach. They collapsed to the mat but Zach held tight to Collier’s arm to deny him the takedown. When the period ended Collier slapped the mat hard with both hands in disappointment. Zach had held on for a tight 7-6 victory. He was still alive.

Chapter 29

“You rocked!” Coach Hancock said after he, Zach and Coach Crisfield had moved away from the mat. Zach nodded while pulling his warmup pants on. He was more concerned with getting out the door and over to Philadelphia than he was about discussing the match.

“You’re not in a bad spot at all, Zach,” Crisfield said. “You just knocked off the third seed. Win one more and you advance. Not bad considering how your season was going.”

“Who’s up next for him?” asked Hancock as he peered at Crisfield’s clipboard.

Crisfield flipped to another page while Zach continued dressing. “You get Rennie Brandon next. He’s seeded second. That’s why it’s always better to be seeded sixth than fifth. If you catch the top kid it isn’t until the finals.”

“Brandon’s the kid from Wenonah, right?” Hancock asked. “Did he beat you?”

“Yeah. He scored early and then stalled half the match. I’d like another chance at him.”

“You have it,” Crisfield said. “Tomorrow morning. You’ve really got a good shot at placing. Make sure you get your rest tonight.”

Zach tried not to laugh. Before he could answer Tim Betterton trotted over to the group. “Hey Coach. They just called George on deck.” Zach hadn’t heard any such announcement. He knew Betterton was just trying to distract the coaches. As soon as they started looking around for George Prince he melted away and headed for the door. Easton was waiting near the snack bar with Zach’s gym bag and coat. “Here you go,” he said as Zach approached. “She’s right outside the door.”

“Thanks,” Zach said without breaking stride. He took the bag and left the building.

~~~

“Hi, Honey!” Jeanine said after Zach got into the car. “Better put that coat on.”

“Yes, dear,” Zach said sarcastically, but he did as he was told.

“We have forty-five minutes. It shouldn’t be a problem. Are you wearing that on stage?”

“I was planning on changing into some jeans, at least.”

“I won’t peek.”

Zach climbed over the seat and stretched out on his back. He was still sweating and breathing hard. It was the first chance he had to collect his thoughts after beating Collier. He would face the top two seeds the next day. Beating either of them wouldn’t be easy but Zach knew he could do it. It was something he looked forward to but he forced himself to think about what he still needed to do that night.

“Are you awake back there, Honey?” Jeanine called back. “You’re on stage in about a half hour.”

“Yeah,” Zach said, sitting up quickly. “I was just resting.” He pulled the jeans and sleeveless t-shirt out of the gym bag and put them on after wriggling out of his singlet. The well-lit skyscrapers of center city were just coming into view. He grabbed his boots and a clean pair of socks and flopped into the front seat.

“That’s a new look,” Jeanine said after glancing at Zach. “I like it.” By then they were across the Ben Franklin Bridge and in the city. Jeanine eased the car off the expressway and onto a crowded street in Jeweler’s Row. Zach wasn’t exactly sure where the hotel was but he knew it couldn’t be too much further.

“Jeanine?” he said suddenly. “Why is everybody doing all this for me?”

She veered into the left lane to avoid a string of double-parked cars and then back to the right just in time to turn onto Walnut Street. “Joe told me to,” she said blandly. “He said if you weren’t coming there was no use entering at all.” Zach hoped she would say more but she didn’t.

They drove past Love Park, where the famous L.O.V.E. sculpture was surrounded by an expanse of concrete and dotted with gardens. Zach watched a group of skateboarders who had braved the cold and were practicing twists and half pipes. Jeanine barreled across two lanes of oncoming traffic and pulled under an extravagant archway. Three bellhops with brass carts eyed each other before one started moving towards the car.

“You better go in while I park,” Jeanine said. “It’s in the Liberty Ballroom. You have to go up one floor. Go. You only have a few minutes.”

“Okay. See you in there.” He hopped out of the car and walked into the hotel lobby through a revolving glass door. There were people everywhere, yet the lobby was hushed. He walked towards a carpeted stairway, remembering that Jeanine had said he would need to go up. Halfway up the steps he heard the unmistakable sound of live rock music. Worried that his band had started without him, he ran up the last few steps. When he reached the top he was relieved to see Toby Dumphries run towards him.

“Zach! We’re on in fifteen minutes! Come on!”

As he followed Dumphries into a makeshift dressing room he remembered that he’d left his singlet and everything else in the back seat of Jeanine’s car. Just one more thing to worry about, he thought. “Hey!” he said loudly when they came across the rest of the band.

“Glad you could make it,” Fauquier said.

“Oh yeah!” Herndon whooped. He reached over and high-fived Zach. “What’s with the muscle shirt?”

“Geez, I didn’t know it would be such a big deal,” Zach said.

“We’re just glad you’re here,” Dumphries said.

There was one face that Zach didn’t know. “Are you Max?” Zach asked, extending an upright hand.

“Yeah,” Richmond said, returning the soul handshake. “How’s it going?”

“Okay,” Zach said. “Good thing you’re here,” he said, holding up his injured wrist. “I don’t think I could go.”

A door opened and somebody stuck his head in. “Five minutes! By the way, we need a name for your band for the judges.”

They stared at each other. They’d used various names over the years but never agreed on adopting any of them permanently. “Apple Ants,” Herndon said. Dumphries glared at him as the door closed.

“Here’s the set list,” Fauquier said after stepping between them. “Five songs, and we go all out, right? If we’re good enough we’ll be asked back for tomorrow.”

Zach grabbed the paper and took a look. “Wow, Joe,” he said. “This is a lot different than what we practiced. You’ve got everything covered here, that’s for sure.”

“That’s the name of the game,” Fauquier said. “Show them everything we can do. Does it look okay?”

“Yeah. I’m always nervous about the slow ones, that’s all.”

“You’ll be fine. At least you’re voice is well-rested. You look pretty beat up, though.”

“I just got off the mat about a half hour ago. Sorry.”

Before Fauquier could answer Herndon rushed over. “We’re on! Show time!”

Dumphries and Richmond walked over from different directions when they heard Herndon. “This is it, guys,” Fauquier said. “Everybody put a hand in.” Each member dutifully reached over and put a hand on top of Fauquier’s. “I’m feeling it right now,” Fauquier said. “All the right people are sitting out there waiting for us. It all starts here. If we do it the way I know we can, it’ll be a whole new world for us. Leave everything you have on that stage, gents. Let’s go.”

“Is our stuff already set up?” Zach asked Dumphries as they walked out of the room and down a corridor.

“Yeah,” Dumphries said. “We did it all before the show started. That was about four hours ago. I hope we’re still in tune.”

“How do you like Joe’s play list?” Herndon asked from behind. “Just so happens it’s all the songs he thinks he sounds best on. I’m jumping from guitar to synthesizer every two seconds, but what does he care?”

“I’ve got the same problem,” Zach said. “AC DC, Pink Floyd and Metallica? That’s hard on the vocal chords.”

“Relax,” Dumphries said. “We’ll kick ass. Joe knows what he’s doing when it comes to this stuff.” Fauqier turned long enough to nod and grin from ten feet ahead.

“Yeah,” Herndon said. “If he’s auditioning himself out. What about the rest of us? We’re just trying to survive the show without getting hurt.”

It looked like there were a few hundred people in the ballroom. Zach had expected ten or twelve guys wearing suits and holding clipboards so he was pleasantly surprised. He couldn’t see much because of the colored stage lights that were aimed at his face but he noticed that Jeanine had found her way into the first row.

Once they started to play it was clear to Zach that it would be one of the best shows they ever gave. The music was crisp and alive. Aided by the stage monitors, Zach felt like he was hitting every note, with plenty of volume. They ripped through near flawless performances of ‘You Shook Me All Night Long,’ ‘Comfortably Numb’, U2’s ‘New Years Day’ and Metallica’s ‘Enter Sandman.’ Zach was covered with sweat and knew he wasn’t going to have any problem making weight the next morning.

His raw throat worried him as they quickly set up for the final song, the Aerosmith ballad that Fauquier always wanted. He watched Herndon slip behind his keyboard consoles and flip a few switches. When he was ready he nodded at Fauquier, who pointed back at him immediately. Seconds later the clean sound of Herndon’s synthesized piano filled the ballroom. So far that night Zach had won two matches and nailed four rock standards, but this would be his stiffest challenge.

When he saw Beth Ellicott appear in the aisle looking frantically around for a place to sit he wondered why he was so surprised to see her. After all, she had been more involved than anybody else in salvaging the day, the week, and maybe even his life. It was no surprise that she knew where the showcase was being held because she had quietly coordinated everything he’d done that entire week. When she looked at him he smiled. She probably didn’t realize yet that they were about to perform the song that she’d heard him sing in the gym so many weeks ago.

Just before it was time to sing Zach caught Beth’s eye again as she searched desperately for a place to go. Zach pointed to the floor in front. She scrambled forward and slid into a seated position on the floor, gritting her teeth in apparent embarrassment. Ironically, she was directly in front of Jeanine.

Zach’s voice sounded hoarse as he heard it fed back in his direction over the monitors. That upset him until he looked over at Fauquier, who nodded confidently. For the rest of the song Zach couldn’t help looking at Beth. He felt connected to her. Maybe it was because she had been there when he sang that song for the first time, he reasoned. He thought he saw her wipe away a tear as she watched him sing. Zach felt like he was singing to her and it looked like she was feeling that too. After the way things had fallen into place all week, mostly because Beth had made it all work, emotions welled up inside him. By the time the song ended and the crowd was cheering he struggled to stop himself from breaking down. Just before they took a bow and left the stage he smiled at Beth. Before she could respond but Jeanine smiled and waved, thinking that Zach was looking at her.

~~~

“Are you alright, man?” Dumphries asked Zach when they were back in the dressing room. “You look bummed.”

“Yeah, I’m cool. I had a busy day, that’s all.”

“You rocked!” Herndon said, shaking Zach’s shoulders from behind. “I never heard you sound so good.”

“You think so? My voice sounded funny.”

“Heck yeah,” Herndon said. “We’re in. No doubt about it.”

“We won’t know until later,” Fauquier said. He had entered the room in time to overhear Herndon’s prediction. “I’d bet the house on it though.”

“What time tomorrow?” Zach asked.

“Hey Joe,” Dumphries asked. “What are we playing if we make it? They don’t want to hear the same stuff again, right?”

“I’ll come up with another play list,” Fauquier said. “We should all go home and rest. I’ll call you guys as soon as I hear anything for sure. I’m going back out there to see what I can find out.” He rushed out as suddenly as he came in.

Just then Jeanine strolled in. “You guys were great!” she gushed. “I was so proud of you!”

Zach walked over and gently took the gym bag from her hand. “Thanks,” he told her. “For everything.”

“Zach, are you riding home with us?” Dumphries asked.

Zach would have liked to go out and look for Beth but there didn’t seem to be any time for that. “I’ll take him,” Jeanine said. “He has to get up early.”

“Okay, Mom,” Herndon said.

Thirty minutes later they were parked in front of his house. Worried about what Jeanine might do, he pushed the door open quickly. She leaned over and kissed him anyway. “See you tomorrow, Honey,” she said. “I can’t wait.”

~~~

Zach was surprised that his mother’s car was parked outside. Friday was usually a late night at work for her. He rushed inside to tell her everything that had happened. The house was dark except for a light above the kitchen sink. That meant that she had already gone to bed. Disappointed, he dropped the gym bag and plopped down at the table. Then he saw the note, next to the phone. “Zach -- Joe called. Next session showcase at twelve noon. Great Job! You made the finals! Love Mom.”

Now he had a new problem, and a very serious one. The district semifinals were scheduled to start at ten o’clock, and now the showcase finals were at twelve. He had been assured that they would play at night if they advanced, not during the day. Now what?

Chapter 30

“Hi, is this Joe?” Beth asked.

“Yeah,” Fauquier answered. “Who’s this?”

“It’s Beth. Zach’s friend. Sorry for calling so late. I was wondering if you knew what your schedule is for tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I just called Zach’s house. We need to start our set at noon.”

“Uh oh. At noon? Didn’t you say it would be at night? Zach’s got the tournament all day.”

“Well, he better be there. Or we’re screwed.”

“The wrestling coach will say the same thing. I’ll call you back.”

~~~

“Mark, this is Beth. Sorry to call so late. What’s the tournament schedule look like for tomorrow?”

“Zach’s in the semifinals. That starts at ten in the morning.”

“That’s a big problem with the concert thingy. They go on stage at twelve.”

“In the afternoon? That’s not what they told us before.”

“That’s what I said. What are we going to do? He can’t be in two places at the same time.”

“Now let’s think about this. They’ll be running the semifinals on two mats, so they’ll go quick. His match shouldn’t be much later than eleven or quarter after. It wouldn’t be much tighter than last night.”

“Are you sure?” Beth asked. “What about his next match?”

“Well, that depends,” Easton said. “If he wins, he’ll be in the finals. That won’t be until around four o’clock at the earliest.”

“And what if he loses?”

“I don’t know. He’ll have to wrestle in the consolations. That could go all afternoon.”

“Okay,” Beth said. “So his first match will be around eleven. If he wins, he’s free until four. And if he loses, we’re all in big trouble.”

“That’s for sure.”

“There’s really no plan B here. If he doesn’t win it all falls apart. It can’t be done unless he wins.”

“Well, there’s only one solution,” Easton said. “We’ll just have to make sure he wins.”

~~~

“Zach?” Beth asked. “Did I wake you up?”

“Yeah,” Zach mumbled. “I guess I fell asleep. I’ve got problems for tomorrow, Beth. It isn’t going to work.”

“It is going to work. I already talked with Joe and Mark. Here’s how we’ll make it work.”

~~~

“Hello? Is this Bo Herndon?” Easton asked.

“Yeah,” Herndon said. “What time is it?”

“Bo, this is Mark Easton. I’m Zach’s friend from the wrestling team. Sorry to call so late.”

“It’s cool. I can sleep just fine even if I’m awake.”

“I was trying to call Joe but nobody answered. I guess you heard the schedule’s pretty tight tomorrow.”

“No, I haven’t heard a thing.”

“Well, we worked it out, hopefully. As long as Zach wins his first match in the morning he’ll make it to your concert.”

“What if he doesn’t?”

“I don’t know,” Easton admitted. “I guess it’s up to him.”

“But he’s a sure thing to win, right?” Herndon asked. “That’s what you called to tell me, right?”

“Well, this guy beat him earlier in the season.”

“So we might be in trouble.”

“If he loses, there’s going to be trouble,” Easton agreed. “Either for you guys or for us. That’s why I said it’s up to Zach if that happens.”

“Maybe he’ll win.”

“He could.”

“Look, I’m sorry if I was a jerk the other day,” Herndon said. “I really appreciate you looking out for my friend. He’s really worked his ass off for you.”

“No big deal,” Easton said. “Let’s just hope we can get through one more day of this stuff.”

~~~

Zach was the first one on the bus the next morning. There was plenty of chatter on the way to Cedar Creek but Zach sat stoically. All he thought about was his semifinal match with Rennie Brandon, which was just hours away. He tried to remember everything he could about their first encounter. Brandon had waited for Zach to attack and then countered skillfully to score. He was determined to wrestle more cautiously this time and make Brandon earn his own points.

“Zach, have you heard the plan?” Easton said when they were on the mats warming up. “Buddy, if you don’t win this match, everything is out the window. And I mean everything.”

“Yeah, I know. More pressure.”

“Make it work for you. Don’t forget, this guy’s just going to sit and wait for you to make a mistake. Don’t fall into his trap. Hopefully this time the ref will make him wrestle.”

“That’s what I was just thinking,” Zach said.

“If you get out of the first period without being behind it’s in the bag. He’ll start fading after three minutes. I know you’re not going to.”

~~~

Just before Zach was about to jog a few laps around the mats he saw Beth sitting on the bottom row of bleachers so he trotted over and sat down. “Hi.”

“Hi. How’s your wrist? I was watching you. You’re not putting any weight on it.”

“That about says it all. It’s pretty worthless.”

“That’ll make it tough today, huh?”

“Not much different than last night when I won twice.”

“You’re a big goofball,” she said, smiling at him.

He looked at her quizzically. “What?” She leaned hard into him without answering.

“Hey, thanks for everything,” he said. “There’s no way I can ever repay you for getting me this far. No matter what happens.”

She put her arm around his waist and leaned her head against his shoulder without answering. “You’re still nothing but skin and bones,” she said.

They stayed in that position without speaking as they watched wrestlers going through their warm up rituals. Zach finally broke the silence. “Didn’t you have basketball practice?”

“I skipped it. I’m driving you into the city after your match. I’m kind of nervous about the driving.”

“I’ll try to help.”

“You know everything’s going to suck if you don’t win, right?”

“I know. I better go finish loosening up.”

She kissed him on the cheek and wished him luck. He never looked back at her once as he jogged. It was time to think about wrestling, now more than ever.

~~~

Coach Hancock remembered the match against Brandon the same way Zach did and said all the same things Easton had. So it came as no surprise to anybody in their corner that during the first minute neither wrestler tried to score. When there were forty seconds left in the opening period the referee warned both of them that they “better start wrestling.” Zach took two halfhearted shots without penetrating far enough to be vulnerable to the defensive tactics that Brandon had victimized him with in the first match. When the first period ended with no scoring Zach remembered Easton’s words about not falling behind early.

Zach began the second period on top. That meant that his sore wrist and weak hand were going to be tested because he needed to ride Brandon. He remembered how Brandon had tired quickly in the final period of the last match, to the point where he resorted to an injury time out for a suspicious cramp. All he had to do was keep it close for one more period.

Brandon began the period by sitting out and turning in. Zach followed easily, denying him any points. When Brandon turned back to his base Zach pounced and cradled him. He was unable to attain the hand-to-wrist grip he needed to bypass his weak hand so Brandon broke out of the cradle easily. Before his opponent stabilized himself Zach used a tight-waist grip and ankle ride to force him to his stomach. Although he was unable to find a way to turn Brandon over, Zach’s confidence was growing because he knew he was controlling the match.

With fifteen seconds left Zach saw an opening. Brandon was on his hands and knees but was on his way back down to his stomach. Zach threw in a half nelson in an aggressive attempt for some quick back points. Just before coming to the side and committing the move he heard his coaches screaming for him to stop. Only then did he remember being burned earlier in the season using that hold on an opponent that he hadn’t yet broken down. He gave it up, scooted back behind and pretended to work hard chopping at Brandon’s arm until time expired. They would go to the third period with the score deadlocked at zero.

Zach stood up from the bottom position on the whistle when the third period started. He tried to break Brandon’s grip around his waist as he lurched forward. Just when he thought he had broken out Brandon pushed him across the line and out of bounds. When they restarted Zach stood up again. This time he turned in to Brandon and tried to hook a leg for a standing Peterson Roll. Brandon saw what was happening and stepped his leg back out of reach.

They were both still on their feet. Brandon was behind Zach with a tight grip around his waist. Knowing that Brandon would try to run him out of bounds again Zach decided to use that forward momentum to his own advantage. As soon as Brandon pushed Zach grabbed Brandon’s wrist and pivoted hard to his right while burying his arm between Brandon’s legs. The standing switch worked as designed. Brandon’s forward motion was accelerated as Zach swung behind him. By the time Brandon struggled back to his base Zach was behind him with a 2-0 lead on the strength of the reversal.

The referee blew the whistle after signaling the points. Zach didn’t understand why until he saw the blood dribbling out of Brandon’s nose. On his way back to his corner Zach saw there were fifty-nine seconds left.

“Nice move,” Crisfield said as he handed Zach a water bottle. “Too bad he’s getting this rest time. You’ve got all the points you need. Just wrestle smart. Let him up if you’re in danger.”

Zach squirted a stream of water into his mouth and nodded.

“Don’t let this one get away,” Hancock warned. “If you win here you’re going to regions next week.”

On his way back to the center of the mat Zach flexed his wrist. He must have banged it somehow when he reversed Brandon, and the pain wasn’t going away. That was going to make it even harder to protect his lead. The referee restarted the match, this time with Zach on top. Brandon stood up just like Zach had and Zach ran him out of bounds twice, killing thirty more seconds. When Brandon stood up a third time Zach was unable to maintain his grip because of the pain. With twenty-two seconds remaining Brandon escaped, cutting the lead to 2-1.

After nearly six minutes of wrestling, Zach could see that Brandon was out of gas. Despite being mere seconds away from a loss he moved slowly back to the center of the match with no sense of urgency. “Stay there,” yelled Hancock. Zach knew that he meant that Zach shouldn’t try any offensive moves. He couldn’t help himself, though, when he saw Brandon standing straight up because he was too fatigued to get into his stance. He shot low and took both of Brandon’s legs. At that point there was no longer any resistance at all. Zach easily dumped Brandon for a takedown and two more points. Seconds later the buzzer sounded. Zach had avenged a loss and also averted a disaster for the band by winning 4-1 in the district semifinals. The best part was that he wasn’t even tired.

Chapter 31

“Good work,” Crisfield said when Zach came back to the corner. “I could have lived without that last takedown but it made the score look better.”

“Awesome,” Betterton yelled as he hugged Zach. When he was close enough he lowered his voice to a whisper. “Tell the coach you have to piss real bad,” he said. “It’s eleven-thirty. You have to leave right now. Go to the same door.”

“I have to get to the bathroom pronto, Coach,” Zach said as soon as Betterton let go and backed off. He scooped up his warmup clothes and hustled away without waiting for an answer. Easton was ready with the gym bag just like the night before. He handed it over without a word and then Zach was outside. The cold air on his sweaty body was invigorating but he knew that wouldn’t last. He opened the passenger side door to Beth’s Impala and got in.

“I heard you did great!” Beth said. “Did you hurt your wrist again?”

“You noticed,” Zach said. “I just have to get through one more match today.”

“Yeah, and not just any match. The finals.”

“What time is it now?”

“Twenty before twelve,” she said after looking at her watch. “Can we make it? I hardly know where this place is. Last night I was lost the whole way until I found it by accident.”

“I was about to ask you.”

“Help me with the directions after we cross the bridge, okay?”

“Okay. The guys must be losing it. They have no idea if I’ll make it or not.”

“Neither do we. You better change your clothes.”

Just like he had the night before, he made his transformation in the back seat. After jamming everything back into the gym bag he climbed back into the front and parked the bag on his lap.

“Your face looks scary,” she laughed.

“Mat burns. Am I bleeding?”

“No, it just looks kind of raw.”

Zach talked her off the expressway and all the way to Walnut Street. “I’m not sure where Jeanine parked last night,” he said as the car rolled to a stop under the hotel archway.

“Just go. It’s five of twelve. I’ll see you inside.”

He leaned over and kissed her before opening the door and scrambling out. With the gym bag in his good hand he ran into the lobby and up the stairs where Herndon was pacing back and forth. “Dude, you gave us a heart attack!” he said loudly before hugging Zach. “Did you win? Come on, we have to run!”

“Yeah, I won,” Zach said as they scrambled down the hallway. “I’ll tell you about it later. What are we playing today?”

“We only get to do three songs this time,” Herndon said. By then they had reached the dressing room. “Holy Moly,” Dumphries said when he saw them. “I can’t believe you made it. We were just about to walk out there. Joe was going to sing.”

“I knew he’d be here,” Fauquier said calmly, but Zach didn’t believe him.

“I’m still sweating like a pig,” Zach said, wiping his face with his sleeve. “So what are we playing?”

Dumphries shoved the new list at Zach, who scanned it quickly. “’Love Walks In’? I guess I can do Sammy Hagar.”

“You always sound strong on that one,” Fauquier explained. “I get to do some Eddie Van Halen. And it’ll give Bo a chance to show off with his keyboards.”

“’Red Barchetta’ is cool,” Zach said, referring to the Rush song that they would perform second. “I hope I remember the words.”

“The most important thing here is versatility,” Fauquier said. “Most of those bands last night did five identical songs. That’s why they’re not here today.”

“Can’t accuse us of that,” Zach said. “Finishing with ‘Crazy Train’ is going to be tough. I don’t know how much range I have today.”

“What about ‘Barchetta’?” Herndon asked. “Geddy Lee sings higher than the Bee Gees.”

“I never have trouble with their stuff. Just Ozzie.”

“Call an audible if you can’t do it,” Herndon suggested. “Signal us and we’ll do something else.”

“That’s a good idea,” Fauquier said. “Draw your finger across your throat like a pirate. If you give the signal we’ll play ‘Low Budget ‘ instead. That was my next choice. Is that better?”

“Gotcha,” Zach said. “If I could just stop sweating.”

“Aarh!” growled Herndon.

The performance went as well as it had the night before. The audience was much smaller, presumably because fans of the many bands that had been eliminated weren’t around anymore. Not having to play bass made it easier for Zach to go all out on his singing. By the time they finished their second song he decided he’d be able to get through ‘Crazy Train.’ When that one was finished he doubted if he could have done it again but it didn’t matter. Fauquier had wanted ‘Crazy Train’ and Zach was proud that he had come up big.

“I don’t know what happens next,” Fauquier told the rest of the band when they were back in the dressing room. “You don’t need to hang around, Zach.”

“Cool,” Zach said. “I really need to get back.”

“Dude,” Herndon said just before Zach left. “Way to be, man. Now get back over there and kick some butt.”

~~~

“How do you remember all the words to so many songs?” Beth asked as they were driving back across the river to New Jersey. “You didn’t even know what songs you were doing when we got there but when you were on stage you had it down pat.”

“It’s easy. Are you telling me that if you turn on the radio you don’t know the words to just about every song you hear? Like every song for the past ten years?”

“I never thought about it that way.”

“I always thought they should use music to help teach stuff in school,” Zach said. “But I never figured out how.”

“Maybe you’re onto something.”

“What time is it? I wonder if I’m in trouble with the coach.”

“Not even three. You’ll definitely be back in time for the match. At this point, what’s the difference? If your coach knows anything, he knows by now you’re a special case. No use worrying about it now.”

Chapter 32

It was just after three-thirty when they parked at Cedar Creek High School. Zach had changed back into his uniform and then stared out the window for the last part of the ride. The two days had been stressful and exhausting but there hadn’t been any time to even think about being tired. For the first time, now that there was some slack in the schedule, he realized how sore and worn down he felt.

“Are you okay in there?” Beth asked as she knocked gently on the side of Zach’s head.

“All of a sudden I can hardly move,” Zach said. “It feels so good just sitting still.”

“Well, you better snap out of it. You’ve been on a pretty good roll but there’s one more thing you have to do.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ll be okay when I get inside. I don’t think I should go in the front door. Should we try the door by the snack bar?”

“It locks, but I can go in and open it from the inside. Not that I see the point.”

“What do you mean?”

“What are you going to do? Pretend you’ve been sitting at the snack bar for the past four hours?”

“I just don’t want to make a big scene at the main door.”

“I’m sure wrestlers have been coming and going all day,” she said.

They entered together through the front door and weren’t even noticed. The thumps and whistles of the consolations rounds boomed from the gym. “I better go in and see what’s up,” Zach said. Hopefully Crisfield was too busy coaching to even notice I was gone, he thought.

It turned out that the consolation finals were almost over. When Zach walked into the gym he saw George Prince wrestling for third place with several teammates sitting near the mat cheering him on. Betterton came over to meet Zach as soon as he saw him. “Did you make it in time?”

“Yeah, just barely. We rocked the house. Has Coach been looking for me?”

“He asked Mark where you were a few times. Mark told him you kept going outside to run, I think. Don’t worry about it.”

“How many do we have in the finals?”

“Me, Salisbury, you and Mark. Not bad.”

“I feel like I could go to sleep,” Zach said. “I need to go roll around.”

“I’ll go with you,” Betterton said. “Let’s walk by and tell Mark you’re here so he can stop worrying.”

Prince’s match ended just as they caught up with Easton. Coach Crisfield glared at Zach from across the mat. They were too far apart to speak but Crisfield mouthed the words “Where were you?” and spread his arms.

“Don’t go over there,” Betterton said without moving his lips. “Nothing good will happen. Just keep walking.”

~~~

At four-fifteen the twenty-eight finalists gathered in the locker room to prepare for their introductions. Zach had spent the previous forty-five minutes warming up and hiding from his coach. Crisfield had also come to the locker room but Zach knew he wouldn’t dress down his wrestler in front of everybody, especially just before the district finals.

“Nervous?” Easton asked.

“Very,” said Zach.

“It’s just like any other match once you get out there. Coach was looking for you, but I guess you know that. He asked me if you were out getting high.”

“What did you say?”

“I just laughed and told him you were fine.”

“Thanks,” Zach said. “But it isn’t so funny to me that he asked.”

“You lived a double life this weekend,” Betterton said after wandering over.

“Yeah, thanks to a lot of help from you guys. But I wish Crisfield hadn’t said that. What do I have to do to please that guy?”

“You got away with murder this weekend,” Betterton said. “Just leave it be before he starts asking too many questions. Once he sees you on the mat he’ll be okay.”

“The way they introduce us is way cool,” Easton said. “Did you ever think you’d get this far?” he asked Zach.

“I can’t believe I’m in the finals. I never thought I’d be lining up with you guys like this.”

“Me neither,” Easton said. “No offense, but I didn’t think you had it in you. You showed everybody what you’re made of, Zach. Whatever happens today won’t change that. You’re Wrestler of the Year as far as I’m concerned.”

~~~

While waiting to be introduced Zach tried to find his mother in the seats but it was too dark. The only light in the gym was from the spotlights that were trained on each wrestler as he was introduced. He knew his mother was out there somewhere. He wanted to make her proud.

“And the other finalist at 171, a junior from Chapel Forge Township High School, with a record of nineteen wins and nine losses, Zach Bowie!”

With that, Zach walked slowly to the center of the mat to shake hands with Luis Sanibel. Zach had knocked off the second and third-seeded wrestlers. Now it was time for him to take on number one.

~~~

Since Easton was wrestling in the 160-pound final, neither Crisfield nor Hancock was around during the last few minutes before Zach would wrestle. He didn’t mind. He knew everything he needed to know about his opponent. Even though he was the underdog based on seeding, Zach felt he should win. He had pinned Sanibel the year before. All four of Sanibel’s points in his victory over Zach earlier in the season came as a result of Zach’s mistakes. If he wrestled more patiently and thought his moves through before committing to them, as Hancock was always saying, he knew he could win.

~~~

The talk in their corner of the mat prior to the match was all wrestling, much to Zach’s relief. If he was going to have to explain where he’d been all afternoon he preferred to do it later. “I looked over my notes from the last time you had this guy,” Crisfield said. “He rolled you on that lazy half nelson and then he backed out when you were too high. Make sure you don’t do that again and you’ve got a shot at winning.”

Zach nodded. “I’ll be smarter this time.” He walked out to the center of the mat and wrapped the red band around his ankle when the referee handed it to him. He and Sanibel shook hands quickly and then the match was on.

Remembering that he scored quickly in their first meeting, Zach started the match looking for a basic leg takedown. Halfway through the first period he took a deep shot near the center and stood up with Sanibel’s leg. Before Sanibel had a chance to counter Zach neatly tripped the other leg and covered for a 2-0 lead. Although he gave up an escape in the waning seconds of the period Zach looked to be in good shape with a 2-1 lead.

He began the second period on top as a result of Sanibel’s choice. Zach was able to control his opponent’s body but kept drifting around front looking for some way to put Sanibel directly on his back. Each time this happened Coach Crisfield frantically waved his arms, signaling Zach to try for something safer.

Feeling confident as maintained control, Zach took Sanibel’s arm and lunged to the side, looking for a quick tilt. He realized that he had committed to using his bad hand only after it was too late. His grip gave out before he could expose Sanibel’s back, and his own hips began to slide down towards the mat. Seizing the opportunity, Sanibel stepped over and took Zach’s head and arm. Besides scoring a reversal, he held Zach on his back long enough for two back points. Just as he had done a few weeks earlier, Sanibel had scored only after Zach made a tactical mistake. Crisfield slumped in his chair but Hancock remained engaged as he tried to settle Zach down. “You’re fine. Don’t look for shortcuts!” he yelled. He had to scream to be heard over the Parkdale fans that were cheering and stamping their feet in support of their wrestler.

Going into the third period Zach trailed 5-2. He knew he was still in the match because stamina was Sanibel’s weak point. Starting from the bottom position, he first looked for the Peterson Roll. It wasn’t there so he tried a standup. When Sanibel stopped that as well he tried for the Peterson again. After that failed he was able to stand up but Sanibel ran him out of bounds with no change in position. He felt his own energy draining away as he tried to settle himself down for one last attack.

Hancock yelled at Zach and pointed to the clock. Zach nodded while adjusting his headgear. When the match resumed Zach’s sense of urgency had been restored. He succeeded on a switch, earning him a reversal that was worth two points. With a minute left he trailed by a single point. He applied a tight-waist grip and then chopped at Sanibel’s arm, ignored the pain it caused in his hand. After a few hearty shoves Sanibel was on his stomach.

By then there were fewer than thirty seconds left. Sanibel was completely gassed and looked like he hoped to survive the match through passive resistance. Zach moved steadily up towards Sanibel’s head and labored for a few seconds until he was able to slip his own arm across the back of Sanibel’s neck. Hancock was yelling at Zach to hurry but nobody was more aware of the ticking clock than Zach was. He moved out to the side so that he was perpendicular to his opponent and then began driving into him. Seconds later Sanibel was on his back. Zach’s eyes were on the clock when the referee began counting. With nine seconds left he knew there was enough time to earn the decisive back points. When the buzzer sounded Zach leaped to his feet with both arms raised even before the referee signaled for the points. “Yeeeeeaaaaaaaaah!” he shouted as loudly as he could, drawing it out so it echoed around the gym, sounding like Roger Daltrey of The Who. Crisfield tried to quiet him down by gesturing but Zach responded by shouting again. He had come from behind to beat the top seed and win the district title, and he was going to celebrate in whatever way he wanted to.

Later, when he climbed to the top of the podium to accept his medal, Zach thought about how everybody from both his lives had pulled together when it seemed like he had lost his way. It turned out that he had more friends than he realized. Maybe it had always been that way. Fauquier, Jeanine and even Mark Easton had done more on his behalf than he could have ever expected. Or hoped for

None of it would have happened if it hadn’t been for Beth. Even before he left the podium he knew that except for his mother, who had always been there for him, Beth had become the most important person in his life. With any luck these special people were together somewhere in that gym watching him. All he had to do was find them. Suddenly everything else seemed unimportant.

T H E E N D

Epilogue

By Monday after the district tournament Zach knew that whatever was wrong with his wrist before, he’d made it worse by wrestling over the weekend. It was too painful to wrestle with in practice so he spent his afternoons that week running and riding an exercise bike to keep his weight down.

Friday morning he was three pounds over the limit so he devoted a lot of time to working off the weight before weigh-ins. Coach Crisfield had a sense of what was going to happen and tried to talk Zach into dropping out of the region tournament because of his wrist. Still giddy over his district title, Zach wouldn’t hear of quitting. The worsening injury and the extra time needed for making weight took their toll, however. Exhausted and only able to wrestle with one arm, Zach was pounded 10-0 by a sophomore from Toms River West in the first round, ending his season on a sour note.

After the tournament Mrs. Bowie insisted that Zach see a doctor after finding one that accepted credit cards. Only one x-ray was needed before the doctor told them that Zach had suffered a transverse wrist fracture to the radius bone in his forearm. “I don’t know how you were able to wrestle with it,” he said. When Mrs. Bowie asked if it could have happened while Zach had been wrestling, the doctor nodded and said that was almost certainly how it happened. “This type of thing usually occurs when a person falls forward and tries to break the fall by throwing their hands out,” he explained. Zach was glad nobody asked him if he could remember anything like that. He was fitted with a light cast to immobilize the arm so it could heal on its own.

Fauquier didn’t hear from the showcase committee until Tuesday, but the news was good. They had been among the five bands inducted into the ‘Golden Roll of Rock,’ the highest honor awarded at the showcase. There was no record contract but there were plenty of spoils to go along with the victory. He was told the band could count on a stream of complimentary musical equipment and instruments from all the major makers, who were anxious to ‘put their products in the hands of tomorrow’s stars.’ Aside from that they were enrolled in a management program which, among other things, guaranteed a steady succession of high-end appearances in regional concerts and upscale venues. Fauquier pretended to be dissatisfied but he eventually confessed to the others that he was excited because he knew it was a big step in the right direction.

Instead of going to Atlantic City to watch the state wrestling tournament Zach followed Beth and the basketball team through the playoffs. By the end Zach was able to sit for an entire game. They ended up winning a sectional title before falling to a parochial school from the New York suburbs in the state quarterfinals.

During the week after the state tournament Coach Crisfield called a team meeting in his office. “I told you that wrist was hurt too bad to wrestle,” he told Zach when he saw the cast. He talked to the team about off-season conditioning, summer camps and the value of competing in a few tournaments. Later, as the wrestlers were leaving, Crisfield caught up with Zach halfway down the hall.

“I hope you keep everything I said in mind,” he said. “Of everybody I have coming back you’ve got the most potential. You are coming back aren’t you?”

Zach nodded. “I’ll be here,” he said.

“Looking forward to it then, Zach. Maybe a little less band next season?”

Zach rolled his eyes. Here we go again. They turned the corner without saying another word about it. Some things were better left unsaid.

Contact Dave Conifer by email: daveconifer@rocketmail.com

Dave Conifer’s blog: http://daveconifer.blogspot.com

Find Dave Conifer on Facebook: daveconiferfanpage

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 29

Chapter 32