Throwback

Dave Conifer

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2009 Dave Conifer

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

Discover other titles by Dave Conifer:

FireHouse

Man of Steel

eBully

Snodgrass Vacation

Prologue

“What just happened?” I’m asking myself in horror. I can hear my coaches shouting, their voices made faint by the sound of my labored breathing. “Did I just blow it?” I can’t remember anything that happened since my last peek at the scoreboard, which indicated that I was ahead 4-2 with thirty-nine seconds left in the match.

Somehow I’m on my back looking at the ceiling lights and the referee is counting back points. My plan of stalling out the last half-minute has failed. I’m the better wrestler but I’m going to lose.

I fight with all the strength I can muster and somehow manage to flip onto my stomach. I look at the scoreboard again. It still shows me ahead 4-2, but I know my opponent has at least two back points in hand. Probably three. In reality I’m losing five to four. There are now eleven seconds left in regulation time. A lot has happened in twenty-eight seconds.

Another second ticks by and I’m still wrapped up tightly in my opponent’s cradle. Soon it will be too late. I think of all the hard work and sacrifices I’ve made over the past few years to get to this point. I had an opportunity to go further than anybody thought I could. If I lose this match nobody will ever remember that I came within thirty-nine seconds of making it to the state tournament.

Nobody else knows that there isn’t going to be a ‘next year’ for me because I’m not coming back. This is my last chance. When this season ends it’s all over for me. And it looks like I’m done.

Chapter 1

It was nearly midnight and I wasn’t even close to falling asleep. Despite the December cold of New Jersey I had kicked the covers off hours before. The next day I would wrestle for my new team, Chapel Forge Township High School, for the first time since moving from North Carolina. With all the complications of moving, changing schools and trying out for the team I had almost forgotten that at some point I would actually step onto a mat to wrestle.

My thoughts turned to the Drama Guild’s performance of “A Christmas Carol” which I had attended earlier that evening. For the past few weeks I’d been hanging out with one of the actresses, Judy Voorst. It started in the cafeteria at lunch time. She walked past the table and acted as though she had been surprised to see me sitting there but I was pretty sure it was no accident that she had passed by.

“Hi,” she’d said. “We’re in history class together, right?”

She ended up sitting down, and I explained why she had never seen me around before. “That explains your accent,” she’d said. I noticed that from time to time she looked over to a group of girls at another table. They must have been her friends, and they were watching closely. Like Judy, they wore plain clothing and didn’t look like they wasted too much time obsessing in front of the mirror working on makeup and hair.

“Is that all you ever eat for lunch?” she’d asked, referring to the orange that I’d been peeling.

“Well, it’s just that I’m going to be on the wrestling team and I’m trying to cut my weight down.”

She came over to eat lunch with me from time to time after that and I began to learn about her, too. She was in the National Honor Society and when I pushed her she admitted that she was hoping to be the class valedictorian. Her true passion, though, was acting. She seemed thrilled that I was interested, I remembered as I lay there waiting for sleep to come.

~~~

The next morning the team boarded a bus and rode into what I was told was the “Pine Barrens.” There was nothing barren about it. The roads we traveled looked as though they had been hacked through the woods. I was as nervous as I’d ever been as we approached Collington High School. It got even worse after I got a look at my opponent, who was so muscular that he looked like he outweighed me by thirty pounds. Some of my teammates laughed when they saw my expression. “We forgot to tell you about Ken Brown,” said Robert Mendez, who wrestled in the heavyweight class.

I knew I had my work cut out for me but I didn’t allow myself to be intimidated. Knowing I was in a place where nobody knew me, I was determined to avoid projecting an image of a scared wrestler the way I always had in the past.

After Brown and I shook hands and prepared to wrestle I deliberately placed my foot a half step closer to him than the rules allowed. I knew the referee would instruct me to back up, and he did. That was perfect because I wanted to look like a wrestler so anxious to attack that he had to be restrained by the referee.

It was a tight match. I knew I had outwrestled Brown except for when he took me down to my back early in the match for five points. I scored a late reversal but was unable to turn him over. The match ended with me on the short end of a 7-4 score.

My teammates all clapped me on the back as I came off the mat. “He was fourth in the state last year!” one crowed. “He couldn’t do anything with you.” I felt pretty good about the match after learning that Brown had done so well the previous year. If that’s one of the toughest kids I catch this season, I thought, I should be able to win a lot of matches.

Coach Miles seemed pleased with how I’d wrestled. We got along well, after overcoming an awkward meeting in October when I stopped by to introduce myself.

“Mr. Miles?” I had asked that day as I poked my head into his classroom. He looked up from the stack of papers he was grading in time to catch the look of surprise on my face. Black wrestling coaches weren’t something that I’d come across very often. Already I felt like we’d gotten off to a bad start.

“Yes,” he replied. “What can I do for you?”

Except for his skin color he looked exactly like what I expected. He wore wire-rimmed glasses and sported a bushy mustache. He had no grey hair but was showing signs of male pattern baldness. I guessed that he was in his late thirties.

“I’m Ben Petrovic. I’m a new student. I just moved in from North Carolina.”

He looked me over from head to toe with renewed interest while stroking his chin. “171-pounder, right?”

He had guessed why I had come. “I could probably make 171. I’ll go wherever there’s a spot.”

“What grade are you in?”

“I’m a junior.”

“Just so happens that we’re pretty thin at 171.”

He handed me a few forms to fill out and told me to make sure to schedule a physical exam before the season started. Over the next few weeks I worked on dropping the weight and once the season began I earned the starting spot at 171.

While sitting on the bench after I wrestled against Collington I happened to look over at a group of Chapel Forge students in the bleachers. I instantly recognized Judy’s blond hair and narrow green eyes, and couldn’t help hoping that she had come to see me. After the varsity match ended I knew I wouldn’t have anything to do while the junior varsity teams wrestled. There was only one place I wanted to go. Still in my warm-ups, I grabbed my gym bag and walked up the bleacher steps to where she was sitting by herself.

“Hi Ben,” she said cheerfully as soon as I was close enough. “You had a good match.”

“A good loss?” I asked with a half smile. “Thanks. Are you a wrestling fan?”

She hesitated. That told me a lot. “I saw the dual meet in the paper and thought I’d check it out. School spirit, I guess. Besides, you came to see us last night so I thought I’d return the favor.”

How had she known that I was at the play? I thought I was just another face in the crowd.

She knew what I was thinking. “Somebody told me you were there,” she said with a laugh. “I wanted to come see you before the show but I couldn’t get away. You didn’t come early enough,” she teased.

“Yeah, well, I’m glad you came.” After that there was nothing more to say. The seats around us began to fill in with the rest of the varsity wrestlers so Judy and I were forced to move closer and closer together. I didn’t mind a bit.

Chapter 2

My palms were sweating as I made my way to history class the following Monday. Judy was already in her seat when I entered the classroom. She spied me immediately, like she’d been watching for me, and gave me a smile. “Hi Judy,” I said.

“Hi Ben. How are things? Did you get hurt?” After weeks of wrestling there were a few raw spots around my eyes. I told her what they were and that I’d probably look that way until March. As I walked to my own desk I hoped that our conversations wouldn’t always be so nerve-wracking.

Later that day I was involved in an incident that ran counter to my plan of keeping a low profile. For weeks on the way to math I had watched something that bothered me. Scott Cole was a popular senior with a sharp sense of humor and a gift for cruelty. Hugh Anders was a typical target. Cole had taken to ambushing Anders in the hall at that time every day and knocking his books out of his hands. Whenever this happened everybody who witnessed it laughed at the red-faced Anders as he groped on the floor collecting his belongings.

Maybe it was clearer to me because I didn’t know anybody very well in my new setting. Until then I’d never been so conscious of the cruel, rigid pecking order among students. Kids like Anders occupied the lowest level. Students were free to abuse anybody below them in the social order in any way they chose. Now that I was becoming a “somebody” at Chapel Forge I decided that the same code of student interaction gave me the right to intervene.

Anders always knew Cole was lurking nearby but wasn’t always able to spot him in time. This time Cole had ducked down behind a group of girls who knowingly screened him from the victim. I could see what was going to happen. After Anders passed Cole was going to spring out and attack.

This time it would be different. As Anders approached the spot where Cole was hiding I walked quickly to the same spot. By the time Cole emerged I was behind him but within an arm’s length. As he lunged at Anders I reached out and yanked him backward by his shirt collar with so much force that I heard his shirt tear. He lurched toward me until I relinquished my grip and he regained his footing. On his face was a look of shock. A similar expression graced the faces of nearly all the kids who were watching. I was either a hero or a pariah.

I felt like I had to say something. “Leave him alone!”

“What’s your problem, man?” he yelled back at me as he tried to adjust his shirt to its original configuration.

“You are. Don’t ever bother him again.”

Cole was regaining his composure and was struggling to restore his dignity. “It’s between me and the dweeb here,” he snarled, “so butt out!”

“Hugh’s my friend so that makes it my business,” I informed Cole calmly, as I folded my arms across my chest. For once, Cole couldn’t think of anything to say.

“Knock it off, you two!” boomed an approaching voice. It was Mr. Loomis, a geometry teacher whose classroom was nearby. Mrs. Carbuckle, my algebra teacher, came out from her classroom at about the same time to see what the commotion was about. “Everybody get out of here. Get to class,” Mr. Loomis said loudly. The hallway cleared quickly.

Just like that the incident was over. I never saw Cole bother Hugh Anders again. The funny thing was, Anders never said a word to me again either. He was probably too embarrassed for not standing up for himself.

Wrestling practice at Chapel Forge was more challenging than it had ever been for me anyplace else. Every day I forced myself to keep up with our 160-pounder, Nick Schmidt. He turned out to be one of the most intense wrestlers I’d ever come in contact with. That, of course, was why he was so good, and why he was universally accepted as the leader of the team. At practice he never stopped moving.

As soon as he realized that I was the best workout partner for him in the room he latched on to me. When we drilled we went through the motion twice for every time the other guys did once. When we pummeled, or engaged in any other drill we went one hundred percent at all times. Anytime we ended up out of bounds during live wrestling he barked at me to hustle if I wasn’t returning to the starting position quickly enough. I was intimidated, impressed and enthralled all at the same time. So this was how it was done! In the past I’d watched wrestlers like Nick and wondered how they stayed on such a high level. Now I was seeing the dedication and hard work that was required to do that.

Some of the guys were ribbing me about Judy that afternoon at practice after seeing us together in the bleachers at Collington. “Who was that chick, anyway?” asked Reggie McKenzie. “I never saw her before.” Reggie, who wrestled in the 119-pound weight-class, was a junior who had been a starter during both his freshman and sophomore seasons. He walked around school wearing a “do-rag” listening to rap music between classes. In contrast to his carefree appearance, Reggie was intense and driven. He had attended several wrestling camps over the summer and Coach Miles seemed to expect big things from him.

“Reggie,” I said in jest. “You’ve got to broaden your horizons. There are other girls besides the cheerleaders, my friend.”

Our wrestling schedule got busier over the next few weeks, both before and after the Christmas holidays. Just before New Years we entered a tournament in which I lost again to Ken Brown. My record over that stretch was perfect except for when I faced Brown and I pinned most of the wrestlers I beat. By early January my record was 12-2. That was good enough to move me into the South Jersey top five ranking in my weight class. My teammates began showing me the kind of respect that was previously reserved only for Nick.

Our team had done well so far but I thought we could be better than we were. Many of our wrestlers weren’t wrestling the style they were best suited to. To me, it looked like many of our guys were trying slick, complicated moves when they should have been sticking to the basics. I thought I knew why. Nick was a master of basic wrestling moves but he rarely used them. I believed that many of the wrestlers were emulating him in their choice of moves and style.

Honestly, I thought that Nick, too, should lose some of the fancy stuff and get back to the tried and true fundamental moves. There had already been many matches I’d seen in which he completely outclassed his opponent but only won by decision. He wasted too much time trying to sink a complicated pinning combination or score with an acrobatic tilt that rarely led to a pin.

One afternoon Reggie McKenzie was wrestling hard against Flinch Connor during a round-robin conditioning session. McKenzie was dominating but after a minute of wrestling he’d scored only a single takedown. He had spent most of the period tugging on Flinch’s arm with nothing to show for it. It was just too frustrating for me to watch without saying anything. After they were finished I crawled over to where they were crouched.

“Reggie, nice job riding,” I began.

“Thanks,” he gasped. “I just couldn’t turn him.”

It was the perfect opening. “Reggie, did you ever think about trying something simpler? I have no idea what you trying to do with that arm and I don’t want to know, because it was never going to work.”

A couple other wrestlers drifted over to listen as I made my case. “Don’t you want to pin people? Nothing works like the basics. And when you go against the best wrestlers that’s really all you can count on.”

“I hear you loud and clear. I’m wasting so much time and getting no points.”

“Exactly,” I agreed, thankful that he, and not I, had said it. I was finished, or so I thought, until Coach Miles yelled across the room in our direction. “Ben, come on up here!”

Uh-oh, I thought. I should have minded my own business. Now what had I done?

“Ben, what exactly were you just saying?” he said, loudly enough that everybody on the team could hear. “I think you just said something important. Could you repeat it for everybody?”

“Well, all I was saying was that I think some of us are wasting time on fancy moves that don’t work.” I looked over at Coach Miles helplessly, hoping that he would take me off the hook. He didn’t.

He waved his hand, urging me to say more. When I wasn’t sure what to say next he turned to the rest of the team, which was now watching attentively. “Team, Ben here has six or seven pins already. In case you’ve forgotten, pinning is the name of the game. Go ahead, Ben.”

“Well, I don’t mean to try to tell anybody how to wrestle, believe me. But I’ve been noticing that lots of us are spending way too much time trying to use complicated moves. If we would try the simpler, old-fashioned stuff I think we’d score more points and get more pins.”

Apparently I wasn’t going far enough. Coach Miles wanted names named, and so jumped back in. “Here’s what Ben is saying. Reggie just spent forty-five seconds manhandling Flinch but he didn’t score a point. Reggie, or any of you, why don’t you just stick in an arm bar or a half nelson, and beast him over? If you’ve shown that you can control your opponent there’s no reason why you shouldn’t be able to pin him,” he concluded.

I wondered how Nick was reacting to what was happening. This had been his team for years. Now here I was trying to tell everybody what to do, and the coach had enthusiastically endorsed what I said. I got my answer later that day when he seemed even more determined than usual to knock me around after we resumed wrestling.

Coach Miles walked past my locker later and told me to stop by to see him. That was the last thing I wanted to do. I glanced around the locker room as I crept to the coach’s office. As I feared, Nick was watching me and probably knew where I was headed.

“Ben, I was real happy about what you said today. I think you’re right on the money.”

“I felt a little funny speaking out, Coach. Me being the new guy and all.”

“You did the right thing. That’s why I wanted to talk to you. If you see anything else that needs saying I want you to say it, the way you did today. You’re old for your years and I want to take advantage of it.”

“I don’t think Nick feels that way.”

Miles walked over to the door and closed it gently. Again I cringed, hoping that Nick wasn’t watching. “What you talked about is exactly Nick’s problem. You know it and I know it. Nobody’s come close to beating him yet this year but that doesn’t mean he’s doing everything right.”

I agreed with Coach Miles but I kept my mouth shut. I had already said enough.

“Nick is second to none when it comes to being fundamentally sound,” he continued. “He knows more wrestling than anybody in the room, including me. But he’s uppity. I don’t mean his attitude. He’s got the best work ethic I’ve ever seen. I mean the way he wrestles. He thinks he’s too good to use a half-nelson, if you follow.”

Again, I stayed quiet, offering only a subtle nod.

“Nick and I have had this same conversation a couple of times, including once at the beginning of this season. I haven’t gotten through to him but I’m hoping that maybe you did. Maybe he needed to hear it from another wrestler.”

“Maybe so. But I wasn’t really talking about him. Mostly I was talking about Reggie.” It was a lie.

“You were and you weren’t. Look, here’s the point. Nick’s good enough to be a state champ, let me tell you. I’ve never had a state champ and I want it nearly as bad as he does.”

“He’s definitely good enough.”

“He won’t win it wrestling that style. You said it yourself. When he gets deep into the state tournament that cute stuff won’t work any more than it would work against him. The same way it never works on you in practice. At that level he needs to come right at the other guy with good, hard basic stuff.” He got up and walked over to the door. I took this as my cue to leave. “I know he doesn’t take criticism well but try to work it in whenever you get a chance. In the long run he’ll be glad you did. He’s needed somebody like you on the team for a few years now.”

I suddenly felt like I needed to get out of there. I knew Nick wasn’t happy about what I had said at practice and a secret meeting with the coach only made things worse. I packed up and left without saying anything to anybody.

“Keep it Simple” became a common phrase in the wrestling room. After what was said at practice that day everybody knew what it meant and seemed to be making an effort to abide by it. Nobody dared say it to Nick but it looked to me like even he was simplifying his style somewhat, the way the others were. I only hoped that our relationship could be repaired.

Chapter 3

On Saturday night we were scheduled to host Peach Valley, the defending conference champions. PV was a favorite to win the title again and probably didn’t expect too much resistance from us. We’d be underdogs as we had been so often that season but it felt good that at least it was being considered an important match.

Since we were expecting a good crowd I thought maybe we should try to put on a show. That could include individual introduction of each wrestler, something that apparently had never been done at Chapel Forge. I also thought we should adopt a theme song that we could play at home matches while we ran onto the mat for warm-ups. On Thursday night I searched my CD collection and ended up grabbing three Metallica albums. My CD collection was slightly dated but I thought the worst thing that could happen would be that somebody might wonder why I like old music.

Even though it was my idea I thought I should check with Nick before taking it to the team. It would be a good chance to show him that I knew it was his team and not mine.

“These all rock,” he commented when I showed him the CDs I had brought. “We’ll talk about it after practice if we’re still standing. I think Miles will probably try to run us into the ground tonight.”

That went well, I thought later. At least we were talking.

After fourth period I picked up my lunch bag with the orange in it and headed for the cafeteria. As I walked between tables I saw Judy sitting with her friends. She smiled and waved when she saw me looking her way.

“Hi,” I said cheerfully after walking over. “Can I eat here?”

“Of course. This is Ben,” she announced to her friends. She proceeded to name each of six girls, who greeted me in turn. I was so nervous that I forgot their names even before Judy had finished saying them.

“Nice lunch,” one of them said. “You’re on the wrestling team, right?”

“Yeah. Could you tell by the lunch?”

“The lunch and your face.” She clapped her hand over her mouth as soon as she said it.

“Donna!” another said. “That’s not nice!” When the girls drifted back into their own conversation Judy turned to face me.

“So how are things? I feel like I’ve hardly seen you since that night at your match.”

“I’ve been wrestling. That’s about it.” When I swung my backpack onto the table the Metallica CD’s slid halfway out of the front pocket. She cocked her head to the side to examine them. “Metallica groupie?”

“Yeah, sort of,” I said before explaining why I had brought them to school. As I spoke, I realized how silly it all sounded. I imagined her asking herself why a song was needed at all. She nodded and pushed the CD’s back into the pocket.

“You’re really into wrestling, aren’t you Ben? Everything you do is wrapped up in it.”

“It’s hard to do anything else, especially during the season,” I said, feeling defensive.

“I mean, I really shouldn’t say that because I hardly know you.”

“Yeah, you’ve hardly scratched the surface.”

“So what else is going in there besides wrestling?” she asked, tapping a finger gently on my temple. “What are you interested in? I know you’re a good student but you aren’t in any clubs or anything.”

Tough question. I wasn’t prepared for it. “Well,” I stammered. “I spend a lot of time working out when I’m not wrestling.” Boy, was I making myself sound like a dolt. She had already pointed out how one-dimensional I was and now I was just driving home the point. Maybe I could recover. “I read a lot,” I offered.

“Me too. I love to read. I guess I don’t really read anything in particular. I like pretty much all fiction.”

This conversation was going nowhere. We were both struggling to find things to say, looking for things we had in common. Even so, it was exciting that she appeared to be interested in me the same way that I was interested in her.

“Hey Judy, I was wondering. Some of the guys on the team are going to a party after the match tomorrow night. Do you want to come along?” I couldn’t believe I had just asked her out.

Her face immediately flushed and she looked alarmed, but said nothing. Heads turned our way.

“It’s no big deal, Judy, really. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Oh, Ben. It isn’t like that. You don’t understand.”

I thought I did understand. It was the pecking order, pure and simple. The vice-president of the National Honor Society and member of the Drama Guild did not go to parties with the 171-pounder. It wasn’t done.

“I don’t know. I’d be so nervous,” she said.

“Nothing to be nervous about. But it’s okay, really. I’d probably be nervous if you invited me to a party, too.”

“Maybe next time I’ll be braver,” she said apologetically. Then lunch was over and we headed back to class.

During practice we talked about playing music during warm-ups the next night. Coach Miles didn’t mind the idea but he wasn’t going to spend any time arranging it. “Pick a song and let one of the managers take care of it,” he directed.

We were unable to agree on a song and there wasn’t much time for debate. Everybody wanted something different. The largest contingent argued for a rap song. “That isn’t right,” Robert Mendez countered. “It has to be rock. That’s the only music that says ‘I’m gonna’ kick your ass.’”

Later, Nick caught up with me in the locker room. He seemed to be coming to grips with my growing influence in the wrestling room and our relationship was getting back to normal. “Ben, let’s pick a song from your CD’s and just do it. This isn’t a democracy.” Between the two of us we chose one. Nick took the CD and tracked the managers down to make the arrangements.

When I woke up on Saturday I knew it would be a long day. We didn’t have any wrestling until the Peach Valley match, which wasn’t until seven o’clock. That meant that I had to hold my weight for nearly ten more hours. I went for a light run to remove any doubt about making weight. After that I stayed busy with homework and ended up taking an afternoon nap.

When I got to the school for the match, just as it was starting to get dark, the busses from Peach Valley were already parked outside. The varsity match was two hours away but there would be some JV matches before that. Nick trotted over to me as soon as I walked into the gym.

“It’s all set up. They can hook us right into the PA system,” he said excitedly. “This is gonna be awesome!” It was a relief to see him excited about something that had been my idea.

After we had the mats rolled out we started taping the sections together. When the JV wrestlers returned from weigh-ins they took over so we could head for the scales. Everybody made weight on both sides. We all enjoyed some post weigh-in food and then Coach Miles called us together.

“Guys, we all know we’re going up against a pretty good squad tonight,” he said. “They haven’t lost in the conference yet, but we’ve only lost one. They aren’t as strong as last year and there’s no reason why we can’t give them a good match tonight. No fear tonight. Everybody got it?”

It was a thrilling moment when we burst onto the mat with our song blaring. Usually only the elite teams tried to pull that off. Everybody in the gym was surprised and that definitely included the PV wrestlers, who were hanging around their bench when we emerged. We circled the mat, and Nick, as captain, took his place in the center to run the warm-ups.

Even though it was our gym it appeared that Peach Valley had more fans there than we did. They filled the seats on the visitor’s side of the gym and had begun to occupy a corner of the other side. Whenever I had the chance I looked into the bleachers, hoping Judy was out there somewhere.

Heading into Nick’s match at 160 pounds the match score stood at 20-15 in Peach Valley’s favor. Miles called the five remaining wrestlers together to remind us that victory was definitely with reach for us.

Nick needed no prodding. As a senior in a mediocre program this was probably his first time being involved in an exciting dual meet. He tore into his opponent with everything he had. When his opponent attempted a headlock Nick easily rolled through it and put the PV wrestler on his own back, pinning him instantly. Suddenly we were ahead by a score of 21 to 20.

Then it was my turn. I had deliberately avoided thinking about my opponent, Dave Charter, since I knew nothing about him anyway. We circled each other warily after the match started, each knowing that the outcome was important to our own team. I shot first with bad results. I grabbed a leg but he sprawled away, kicking his legs backwards and landing most of his weight on my back. Looking for some leverage, he slammed my exposed face with his forearm and kept it there. I had his leg but he was moving slowly behind me. My nose hurt badly from the blow but I ignored the pain. After twenty more seconds I couldn’t hold him back any longer. He whipped behind me and earned two points for a takedown.

At that point I became aware that my nose was dripping blood. I looked up at the referee to show him and he immediately called for injury time. I had only wrestled a minute but I was already out of breath as I walked back towards the bench. Coach Miles complained to the referee that Charter should have been penalized for the flagrant cross-face but it had no effect.

The trainer checked to make sure my nose wasn’t broken and tried to stop the bleeding. Then she pushed some cotton balls up my nostrils to contain any more blood that flowed. As all this was going on I watched someone I didn’t recognize clean my blood off the mat with a towel and a spray bottle.

“I don’t think I can go six minutes with this guy,” I gasped. “I’m already beat.”

“You’re just not getting much air is all,” Miles said. “We need something here, Ben. You’re better than he is,” he said firmly. I wasn’t so sure.

Something clicked as I walked back onto the mat and I knew exactly what I would do. Having been taken down, I was on bottom. I managed to stand up and Charter stood with me, locking his hands around my waist. Perfect, I thought. I took four steps forward, making him think that I was trying to break free or simply running out of bounds for a fresh start. Then I grabbed his right wrist with my left hand and pivoted hard to my right. As I swung around I stuck my right arm between his legs while retaining my hold on his other arm. Simultaneously I sat towards the mat.

I had executed a standing switch and Charter hadn’t seen it coming. The beauty of the standing switch was the whipping action that sent the other wrestler face first into the mat at lightning speed. As that was happening he would instinctively be concerned with self-preservation rather than continuing his attack on me. He slammed into the mat and then struggled to get back to his hands and knees. I went in for the kill, throwing in an inside cradle as he paused to regain his senses. There was little resistance until he was on his back and by then it was too late. The referee had called the pin. Two consecutive first period pins had given us a 27 – 20 lead and the gym got really loud.

As I came off the mat I was desperate for air. I frantically pulled the bloody cotton from my nose and threw it to the floor. More blood began to dribble out and the trainer ordered me to lie down on the mats behind the bench, my nose and cheek throbbing with pain.

We never relinquished the lead. In fact, we won two of the final three matches after mine. In one of the most shocking upsets of the season so far Chapel Forge Township beat Peach Valley by a score of 33 to 23.

There was a lot of whooping and hollering in the locker room but not by me. I couldn’t believe my nose wasn’t broken and even went back to the trainer about it. She assured me that it wasn’t broken but warned me that it would be quite sore for the next week. “You’ll probably have a black eye in the morning, if not two,” she said. She handed me a fresh baggy of ice which I gently applied whenever I had a spare hand while showering and dressing. As I was leaving Robert Mendez reminded me about the party that most team members would be at later. “You’re coming, right?”

“I’ll see how this feels,” I said, lifting the bag of ice off of my nose. “If I’m alright I’ll be there.”

“Are you kidding? I wish I had a face like that tonight. The girls are going to eat you and your pitiful face up! Make sure you bring that bag of ice.”

When I turned a corner in the gym lobby I was startled to find Judy leaning against the wall. “Hi Ben. Is your nose still bleeding?” As I came closer she seemed surprised at my swollen face and the ice bag that was in my hand. “Are you okay?”

The fact that she was outside the locker room meant that she’d come to see me, I decided with satisfaction. “I’m so glad you came. I looked for you but it was hard to see. There were so many people.”

“We came late and we ended up sitting with some guys from the other team. We had to keep kind of quiet. Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked again.

“Yeah, I’m alright. Who’d you come here with?” I asked, looking around. There didn’t seem to be anybody with her.

“My friends Karen and Paula. They already left. I was kind of hoping you could give me a ride.”

“Of course.”

“Are you still going to that party?” she asked in a voice so quiet that it was almost as if she was hoping I wouldn’t hear her.

“I just told the guys that I’d probably be there after I cleaned up.”

“Am I still invited?”

My heart soared. “You changed your mind?” She nodded without saying anything.

“My car is over here,” I said as we walked through the doors and outside. “Do you need to go home first?”

“No, this is as ready as I get.”

“Sorry, I just meant--“

“I’m just giving you a hard time.”

Now I had a dilemma on my hands. There was something about me that neither Judy nor anybody else at Chapel Forge knew anything about. I wasn’t who they thought I was. I wasn’t even Ben Petrovic. I had a secret that I had managed to keep but everything was starting to move a little too fast.

Chapter 4

It had happened in what I’d come to think of as my previous life. Late on a Saturday afternoon during the regional tournament in North Carolina nine months earlier I had blown a four-point lead and lost the most important match I’d ever wrestled. Going into that match I knew a victory meant a berth in the state tournament, something that would validate my season and even my career. A few minutes later it was all over and I found myself sitting against a cold gymnasium wall with my head in my hands, wondering what had gone wrong. Nobody else knew it but although I was only a junior my high school career at Upper Raleigh Area High School was history.

There was no time to mope that night. I had a lot to do. Losing that match was only the second most important thing that would go down that night. Three months earlier I’d lost what was left of my family and on that day in December I secretly pledged that when the season was over I would avenge the loss. That day had come.

My mother died in a car accident when I was in grade school. After that my father slid back into the life he’d known before marriage, an existence framed by alcohol and drug abuse. Although the auto parts store he owned somehow survived despite his lifestyle, I could do nothing but watch helplessly as his life spiraled downwards before my eyes. A week before Christmas he was found bludgeoned to death in a rundown section of Raleigh, apparently having been caught up in a drug transaction that didn’t work out. As I left the gym after being eliminated from the regional tournament it was my intention that the house his body was found in wouldn’t be standing when the sun came up the next morning.

The courts had assigned me to live with my father’s brother in South Carolina after I was orphaned, but I talked my way into staying in Raleigh with my best friend’s family so I could finish the wrestling season. Brad knew that wrestling wasn’t the only reason I wanted to stay in town and he didn’t like it.

We had plenty of time to talk it through. “First of all,” he said, “you’ll never get away with it. You’re an amateur. Arson cases usually get solved pretty quick.”

“Not if it’s some sleazebag drug dealer house. Who would even care? I’ll be doing the cops a favor.”

“If you get caught you’ll go to jail. For a long time. What if there’s somebody in the house? Are you even going to check? What am I supposed to do now that you told me? Besides, aren’t my parents going to wonder where you went?”

“I’ll tell them I’m going back to South Carolina because the season’s over,” I said. “I can play them off against each other for a few months. I’ll be eighteen at the end of the summer. Then it won’t matter.”

He tried to reason with me through the rest of the winter but I couldn’t be dissuaded. There was no way for him to understand that although I didn’t think I’d be caught, it was worth the risk to me. My only misgivings were about wrestling and I almost went back on my plan because of them. There would be no going back to my regular life after what I was going to do. After years of work at my sport I didn’t like the idea of walking away without knowing where I stood, especially after the way my season had ended. It was something to be worked out later.

I knew I would flee after the fire and I was prepared. Money wouldn’t be a problem. As he descended into a primitive existence my father had taken to squirreling wads of cash around the house and I knew where most of his stashes were. I hoped the money came from the auto parts store profits but I had a feeling it hadn’t. It didn’t really matter. I was taking it anyway. When I gathered it up, knowing the place would eventually be sold in an auction, it came to over forty-thousand dollars. When I added that to what I was able to wrest away from the trust funds established after the sale of the store, I knew I had enough. Living on my own didn’t worry me either. I’d been taking care of myself and running a household for years.

For the previous months I’d worked secretly on the details of my plan. Simple research led me to somebody who, for a price, supplied a fake driver’s license and the rest of the paperwork that I would need to launch a new life. After careful consideration I had decided that densely-populated New Jersey would be the place where I would resurface. Chapel Forge Township in the Philadelphia suburbs would be my new home. Somewhere along I-95 I would cease being Ben Pietrak and would become Ben Petrovic, a high school student who had relocated from North Carolina to New Jersey.

It was after two o’clock in the morning when I parked my father’s Chevy Impala a few blocks away from the house. After watching for any witnesses I kicked in a basement window and crawled in with a few cans of gasoline. Smoke was already seeping from the broken window as I drove away. Now I was guilty of arson, maybe even worse.

Three hours later I ditched the Impala in a salvage yard in southern Virginia and drove away in a pre-positioned Chevrolet Cavalier. Before lunch the next day I was hidden away north of the Mason-Dixon Line, wondering what I was going to do for the rest of my life. If not for the wrestling I might not have even bothered with school. That had changed because of what happened in that last match. I knew I’d be back in a classroom and on the mat.

I spent the next few weeks driving back and forth between my rented condominium and the Jersey Shore, where I sat on the beach thinking about what I wanted. Brad and I hadn’t talked, although I’d sent him a near-blank post card with my phone number in code almost immediately after arriving in New Jersey just like I’d said I would. I had already warned him that we needed to be careful about staying in touch. Everything I knew about hiding from the law I learned from watching television but I thought that if anybody was looking for me they might go through him. He finally reached me from a pay phone in May.

“So you actually made it,” he said. “I was worried.”

“Me too. Is anybody looking for me?”

“Not yet. The fire was in the papers. They knew it was arson but figured it was just some drug thing, just like you called it. My parents were the toughest. I told them you went to South Carolina. That was good that you called them when you got there.”

“Luckily they didn’t notice the area code. Hopefully they won’t call back.”

“They mention it once in a while but so far I’ve been able to talk them out of doing anything. I keep telling them it could get you in a lot of trouble.”

“So how come you said ‘not yet’?”

“The police aren’t saying much. I’m not sure but I think somebody was in that house. It sounded like there’s somebody that can’t be accounted for.”

“Maybe it was the guy who, you know. Can’t you find out more about it?”

“If I start asking questions they’ll be at your door by tomorrow.”

“I hope it was him.”

“But that means you aren’t just an arson, or an arsonist, whatever you call it.”

“I’m just not going to think about it. It’s done.”

“Well, I was just thinking that if it’s more than arson the police might look a little harder.”

“There never going to know where I am unless you tell them.”

“Or if I accidentally lead them to you. You should never call me. They might be watching me. Just let me call you once in a while from a pay phone like I did today.”

“I’m worried about the guy’s friends tracking me down. What if they put out a hit on me or something?”

“It isn’t the mafia. It’s a bunch of strung out lowlifes selling stuff. They’d never know how to find you. It’s the police you need to worry about. And maybe the FBI.”

We didn’t talk again all summer. I thought that was a good thing.

~~~

In mid-August I nervously entered Chapel Forge Township High School with the intention of registering. In addition to the phony documentation I had a copy of the condominium lease agreement ostensibly signed by my father, as well as a set of utility bills. I explained to a vice-principal that my father was unable to get away from the office in North Carolina and so I was staying with friends until he arrived. My North Carolina accent, which matched my transcript, reassured the vice-principal that all was on the level. My transcript was reasonably accurate except for my new name but since there was no record of my junior year in Raleigh I’d be repeating that grade. She made a cursory examination of my paperwork and approved the registration. I was in.

Chapter 5

My Cavalier had been sitting out in the snow for hours by the time Judy and I climbed inside after the Peach Valley match. For a second or two it sounded like it wasn’t going to start. When it finally did we pulled out of the high school lot and headed for home. My home.

“Would you mind if we stopped at the drug store? The trainer told me I should take some Motrin if my nose hurts, and it does,” I explained.

“Nope. I can run in and get it if you want. Does it hurt bad?”

“Only when I breathe. It’s feeling worse out here in the cold.”

“Are all the matches so rough? He punched you, and later you slammed him down.”

“No, not usually,” I said, trying not to laugh at her description of my match because I knew it would hurt. “He should have been penalized for what he did to my face. What I did was legal. He could have let go anytime he wanted to.”

“I’d hate to see you get beat up like this every time.”

I smiled. “It isn’t always so rough, really. I rarely get hurt at all.”

We stopped in a strip mall and bought the Motrin. There was a pizza parlor next door and the smells wafting out made me hungry. Pizza was maybe the worst thing a wrestler could eat but I would have a few days to work it off. Besides, it was a good opportunity to spend more time alone with Judy. “Should we get a pizza while we’re here?” I asked. “Are you hungry?”

“Yeah, good idea,” she said brightly.

“Would you mind if we get it to go? I’d really like to get home.”

As we waited for our pizza neither of us spoke. We were still shy around each other and I didn’t want to invade her space but something seemed to be bothering her. “You’re so quiet,” I finally said. “Did you want pepperoni?”

She laughed. “No, I like plain. You’re funny, Ben.” She paused, and grimaced. “Do you really want to know?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Well, I’m kind of nervous about going to the party. I’m sure nobody will know who I am. Or if they do they’ll just think of me as some bookworm.”

“No Judy, it won’t be like that at all!” I said, before I caught myself. Why was I denying it? That’s exactly what it would be like. “I really won’t know anybody either.”

“It’s different for you. You’re the man of the hour. I’ll just get lost in the shuffle,” she worried. “Can I stay by your side the whole time?”

“Why don’t we just skip it? I’m not really in any shape for a party anyway.”

Her face crinkled into a forced smile. “Would that be okay? I know I’m a goof.”

“I think I’d like that better. But I’ll still need some help with this pizza. Will you still come over?”

“Somebody’s got to help you.”

I paid for the pizza and we got back into the frigid car. “I live here in the condos,” I said when we pulled into Tanglewood. I wasn’t sure how to explain my living situation. Right then I didn’t feel like launching into a complicated web of lies. Hopefully she wouldn’t ask.

I was really taking a chance letting Judy through the door and into my life. Until then, the plan was to keep my new life simple, with as few friends as possible. Besides, there was so much she didn’t know about me. Would she want to come back to my place for pizza if she knew what I’d done? I was a fugitive from the law. Was I already in too deep to get out?

Balancing the pizza in one hand I unlocked the door and followed her inside. We entered the living room and I snapped on the lights. “This is nice. What’s up there?” she asked, pointing to the loft.

“Completely empty.” I carried the pizza over to the table. “Do you want anything to drink? I’d better just have water.”

“Water’s good for me too,” she said. I brought back two glasses of water and we dug into the pizza. After my first slice I had remembered the Motrin and gulped three of them.

“If you need to call anybody, the phone’s in the kitchen. Help yourself.”

If she noticed that it looked more like a bachelor pad than a family residence she didn’t mention it. “It’s okay. I told my parents that I’d be out kind of late. As long as you don’t mind driving me home.”

“How’s you nose?” she asked a few minutes later when she returned from the kitchen with a refilled glass. “I hate seeing you like this. Do you want the ice bag again?”

“In a minute, that’s a good idea. Do you want to watch TV?” I asked. “Sorry, that sounds really boring.”

“Can I check out your CD collection?” She’d been eying the half-open cabinet they were stored in since she’d arrived.

“Sure. I have a lot more than just Metallica.” I settled on the floor next to her in front of the cabinet.

“You haven’t even opened this one,” she said, pulling out a shrink-wrapped CD.

“Yeah, that’s the new Cars album. I guess I forgot that was in there.”

“’Door to Door,’ good name for a Cars album,” she said approvingly.

I pulled another one out and passed it to her. “This is Eva Cassidy. Ever heard of her?”

“No, never.”

“She’s from North Carolina so she’s more popular down there,” I said as I inserted the CD. “Some of the songs on here really get to me,” I admitted. “I guess that sounds funny coming from a guy who had his nose smashed a couple hours ago.”

“No, Ben, it doesn’t,” she said. It looked like she had tears in her eyes. “I think you’re wonderful.”

She moved back to the couch. I went into the kitchen, refilled the baggy with ice, and went back in to join her. Without asking, sensing that it would be okay, I stretched out with my head in her lap and laid the ice across my face.

We listened to a few other CDs after that one. Eventually the throbbing of my nose began to fade away and so did my headache. Judy told me that the flesh below my eyes was beginning to darken, just as the trainer had predicted. By the next day I’d probably be a real mess.

At eleven-thirty Judy said that she probably should be heading back home. “My parents will worry, especially since I’m out with a guy.”

“I hope you didn’t tell them I’m a wrestler.”

“Ben, don’t say that, really. You just don’t know.”

We went back to my car and she directed me across the township to her neighborhood, and finally, her house. “Do you want to come in?” she asked. I thought she was just being polite, and I was too tired anyway.

“I really don’t want to meet anybody for the first time looking like this. Can I pass this time?”

“Okay. I don’t want anybody to see you either,” she said, laughing. Rather than drag it out I gave her a hug before she opened the door to go inside. “Thanks for coming to see the match. It really meant a lot to me.”

“It ended up being the best date I ever had. Talk to you soon?”

“Yup. Goodnight Judy,” I called back as I walked through the bitter cold back to my car. Judy must have known I wasn’t coming in, I thought sheepishly, since I hadn’t even shut the engine off.

I had a hard time sleeping that night. One minute I was thinking about Judy and the next minute I thought about how complicated my new life was becoming. I hadn’t planned for having somebody like Judy around. I had to be careful not to hurt her. There was still a chance that I would have to vanish again.

Chapter 6

When I woke up Sunday my nose was still tender. Both eyes were encircled by black and purple. Everything the trainer predicted had come true. I was glad that I didn’t have anything to do except homework.

“So far so good,” Brad said after I’d updated him over the phone. It was the first time we’d talked in months. “I can’t believe you’re wrestling again. That rules. But you better not get your picture in the paper too often.”

“Yup, I’m just one of the guys. The one with the funny accent. They’re really serious about their wrestling here.”

Then, I got to the part that I knew he would disapprove of. I told him about Judy and how strongly I felt about her. I couldn’t make him understand that this was more than just a case of my having a crush on a pretty girl. Maybe that’s all it was.

“Can you get out of this thing with her? You were supposed to keep to yourself, remember? If it isn’t too late, I’d highly recommend it. You’ve got a lot at stake. What if she starts digging around trying to figure out where you came from?”

“She already knows where I came from. Besides, it isn’t a full-blown relationship at all. I’ve never even kissed her or anything like that.”

“That’s good, but you better keep it that way. Just friends. You can’t go beyond that, Ben, or you’ll screw this whole thing up.”

The next morning I dropped by Coach’s classroom before school. “What happened to you?” he asked. “Is that from the match?”

Yeah. The trainer told me that this might happen.”

“How does it feel? Maybe you should skip practice today.”

“I’d like to come and get some kind of workout but this really hurts.”

“Sure. Look, we won’t have any trouble with Western on Wednesday. We’ll think about holding you out then, too.“

“Yeah, maybe that’s a good idea.”

I didn’t see Judy until lunch. As usual, I sought her out as soon as I got there and sat down along side her and the lunch buddies. They all gawked at my face, including Judy, but didn’t say anything. Things between Judy and I were still awkward. I thought she felt the same way about me that I did about her but we were both holding back for different reasons. For me it was because of what I was hiding. Her reason was simpler, I suspected. I didn’t think she knew what to do in a relationship because she’d never been in one. On top of that, she was nervous about trying to connect with me because I was part of a social circle that intimidated her. I learned that on Saturday night when she had been so nervous about attending that party. So we settled in to a pattern of awkward hellos and goodbyes.

High school felt different for me since coming north and I didn’t think it was just being on the wrestling team that drew attention to me. It was more because of my self-confidence and how I carried myself. After all that had happened I knew there wasn’t going to be anything I couldn’t handle, and it showed. It was almost as though I knew more about the other kids and their high school world than they knew themselves. I knew what everybody was thinking and why they did the things they did. I’d grown up a lot in a year after everything I’d gone through. Maybe too much.

It happened on the wrestling mat the same way it did in the hallways. Unlike in previous seasons, I wrestled with a self-assuredness that seemed to boost my performance. For the first time I expected to do well and succeed. So did everybody who watched me as well as everybody I competed against. I was a completely different wrestler than I had ever been and it was mostly because of what was going on in my head. I was learning that attitude was everything.

On the bus ride to the Western match my heart skipped a beat when Coach Miles called me up to sit with him. It turned out that he was thinking about making me a co-captain of the team, sharing responsibility with Nick. “You’ve really become a team leader, Ben. Everybody looks up to you and you’ve helped with the younger guys. When I say something it doesn’t have the clout it does when you do because you’re one of them.”

The idea made me nervous. What if a local sportswriter noticed and decided to do a feature on me? The last thing I wanted was somebody digging into my past or even publishing my picture. Especially publishing my picture.

“Nick would be mad about it, I think. He’s got some important wrestling to do this season and I don’t want to piss him off.”

“You don’t think he’d like it? I ran it by him yesterday and he seemed to like the idea.”

“Maybe he was afraid to say anything.”

“Okay. If you don’t like it we won’t do it.”

By then we were off the interstate and stopping at traffic lights. We pulled into the Western High School parking lot, weaved through mountains of dirty snow and stopped in front of what looked to be a set of gymnasium doors. The Chapel Forge Township High School wrestling team had arrived.

~~~

Coach Miles called me to the front of the bus again on the way home. “What do you think about wrestling on Saturday? Do you need a couple more days? You’d have a tough match against Redlands. Donovan Jones dropped down to 171. That’d be a heck of a way to come back.”

“I think I’ll be ready, Coach. I could have gone tonight if I had to.”

“Redlands doesn’t have a chance of beating us, with or without you. So don’t feel any pressure to come back for the team. This is the time of year I like to start thinking about setting my guys up for the seeding meeting at districts.”

Then I understood. I had a shot at a high seed at the district tournament because my record was good. He didn’t want to give anybody an opportunity to spoil that now that I had an excuse to skip a tough match. It didn’t sit right with me. “Is it my decision?”

“Of course. I just want to make sure you understand what’s at stake, that’s all.”

“I want to go after Jones on Saturday, then.”

“Okay. We have Parkdale Saturday night, don’t forget. We can decide about that one after you wrestle Jones in the morning.”

I wrestled live in practice for the next two days. Robert Mendez brought in his old wrestling mask for me to use. I could hardly breathe while wearing it and seeing wasn’t easy either. I really didn’t want to handicap myself against Jones on Saturday with a mask so I planned on going without it.

There had been an article about Donovan Jones in the Courier Post a few weeks earlier. At 189, without cutting any weight, he managed a third place finish in the state tournament in Atlantic City the previous March. For the first month of this season it had been rumored that he was considering cutting down to 171 and making a title run. Apparently, according to Coach Miles, he had decided to do it just in time for our match with Redlands on Saturday.

Instead of thinking about Donovan Jones all I could think about as I showered and dressed after practice on Friday was Judy. I wondered what she would be doing that night. She had a small circle of close friends and I was sure that she would be with them.

Later, back in my condo, I broke down and looked for her phone number. I had purposely waited until it was too late for us to get together but not so late that it would irritate her parents. I wasn’t supposed to do this and part of me was hoping that she wouldn’t be home. It turned out that she was. The man who answered the phone must have been her father. I identified myself politely and asked to speak with Judy. After a few seconds Judy was on the line.

“Hi Judy. This is Ben,” I said nervously.

“Hi. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, sure. I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry that I was so weird this week. I’m not sure what’s wrong with me.”

“It’s okay. I just hope I didn’t do anything wrong. I was wondering.”

“I had a tough time with my nose and I guess I’m worried about my match tomorrow. I’m worried about getting my butt kicked. Are you just hanging at home tonight?”

“Yeah. Karen’s here. We’re about to pick a movie and pig out.” Karen was one of Judy’s lunch table buddies and seemed to be her best friend.

“Here, she wants to talk to you,” Judy said. I heard some giggling and the sound of the phone being passed back and forth. Then I heard Karen’s laughing voice.

“This is Karen. What’s up?” I heard more giggling.

“Hi, Karen.”

“Judy wants to know how long before you’ll get here. She’s getting impatient.” I heard hissing and then more giggling. Apparently Karen was ad-libbing and Judy was getting embarrassed. So was I.

“Seriously, this girl’s crazy for you. She needs to see you tonight. Are you coming?”

It sounded as if they were battling for control of the phone and then Judy was back on. “Sorry Ben, somebody’s getting a little out of hand here,” she said loud enough to be sure Karen heard her. “I heard Karen invited you over. You’re welcome to come. We’ll wait to start the movie,” she offered.

“Okay,” I heard myself saying. “But go ahead and start the movie without me. Are your parents there? I mean, I don’t know what they’ll think about my face is all,” I stammered.

“I’ll explain it to them while you’re on your way over.”

I couldn’t wait to see her. “You give me a twirl, Judy,” I said without meaning to.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing. Sorry. I was thinking of something else.”

I glanced in the mirror and ran my hands through my hair to neaten it but stopped after I looked at my battered face. I look like a ghoul, I thought, and I’m trying to straighten out my hair? I put on a clean shirt, bundled up and headed out to the car.

I probably should have brought something. I felt like an intruder when Mr. Voorst opened the door standing there empty-handed. “You must be Ben,” he said, reaching out his hand. “I’m Judy’s father.”

Mr. Voorst looked like a regular forty-something dad. He was a couple of inches shorter than me and was somewhat pudgy. As I looked at him I found myself trying to guess what he had been like at my age. I wondered if he was sizing me up in the same way.

“I’m Ben Petrovic,” I said as he took my coat. “Glad to meet you.” He walked me into the kitchen. I could hear voices coming from somewhere but there was nobody in sight. “Can I get you anything?”

“No, thank you. I have to make weight in the morning.” I wasn’t sure if he had any idea what I was talking about but I figured that he did. He didn’t seem surprised by my bruised face so Judy probably had filled him in. My throat was dry with thirst because I was nervous. My chance for relief had passed and I could only hope somebody would offer me something again soon.

“Judy says you’re the captain of the wrestling team,” Mr. Voorst said as he pulled a chair out from the kitchen table and motioned for me to sit down.

“Well, no, I’m not the captain, but I am on the team.”

“I don’t know much about wrestling,” he said with a shrug. “I guess we had a team in high school. I didn’t realize what a rough sport it is,” he added, gesturing to my face.

“It usually isn’t. This is the worst injury I’ve ever had and I’m almost through with high school.”

“Are you a junior like Judy?”

“Yup.”

“Judy is planning to enroll at Rutgers after high school.”

“That’s fantastic. I think she can get into any school she wants. She’s got everything any school could ask for.”

“Her boyfriend is already there waiting on her.”

Judy had a boyfriend? This was something that I definitely needed to know. Why did Karen tell me that Judy was crazy about me over the phone? So that’s what this little chat was all about. Mr. Voorst saw how surprised I was and I think he enjoyed it based on his smirk.

Just then Judy came up from the basement with Karen and a woman that I guessed was Mrs. Voorst. When the offer of food or drink was repeated I quickly asked for a glass of water. After what I’d just learned I needed it more than ever.

“Hi, Ben. Sorry, I didn’t know you were here. My father didn’t tell me,” she said. “Don’t laugh but we decided we’d watch Star Wars. Is that okay with you?”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“We’re watching in the family room. It’s too cold down in the basement.” She took my arm and led me down a hall. Karen somehow got there a few steps ahead of us and plopped onto the end of the couch. As soon as she sat she sprang back up. “I forgot to make the popcorn,” she said as she bolted back out of the room as quickly as she had arrived.

“Is that okay?” Judy asked apologetically. “I’m sure you can’t eat, right?”

“Sure, I’m used to it. I’ll have another glass of water, maybe.”

“You have a tough match tomorrow?” she asked, remembering our phone call.

“I have to wrestle a guy named Jones. Third in the state last year and he’s dropped a weight class.” She didn’t know what I was talking about. “He’s going to be tough. You’ll be seeing him for the first time just like me.”

“I can’t go tomorrow, Ben. There are so many things that have to get done. I’ll be tied up all day.”

“Yeah, sorry, I don’t know why I said that. Of course you have other stuff to do.”

“I really wish I could. I don’t plan on missing many of your matches.”

“Really?”

I chose a spot on one end of a couch. When Karen came back in with two bowls of steaming popcorn she put them on the coffee table and took her seat at the other end. That forced Judy to move closer toward me. When Karen playfully scooted in our direction Judy had no choice but to squeeze right up against me. It felt good. I wasn’t much of a Star Wars fan but it didn’t matter because I was with Judy.

Later, as I was preparing to leave, I couldn’t stop myself. “Your dad told me about your boyfriend up at Rutgers. He sounds like a real winner.”

She winced when I said that, or was that my imagination? “No, it isn’t like that at all. He’s not really my boyfriend.”

“Look Judy, it’s none of my business.”

“No, you’re not getting it. His dad works with my dad and they kind of herded us together. It’s like an arranged marriage from five-hundred years ago or something. I don’t really know how it happened.”

“You don’t have to explain. It’s not my business.”

“Don’t be this way, Ben.”

“What way? Is he as unhappy about it as you are?”

“No, he’s happy with it.”

“Hmm,” I said. “Is that why you’re tied up tomorrow? Not that it’s any of my business.”

“He wants me to go to the boat show in Atlantic City tomorrow. I don’t know why. He doesn’t know the first thing about boats.”

“I’m hoping to be in Atlantic City in March,” I said, knowing that the state wrestling championships were held there.

“I know. Me too.”

“Well, I’d better get going.”

“Ben, don’t be this way. Don’t be mad at me. I didn’t—“

“It’s okay, really, I wish you didn’t feel like you owe me anything. I’ll see you in school, okay?” I zipped up my coat, pulled the door open and walked out.

“Good luck, I’ll be thinking about you,” she called to me.

I just waved as I walked to my car. I didn’t even turn around.

Chapter 7

By the time I took to the mat against Redlands we had already clinched the dual meet victory. I reported to the referee at the center of the mat before my opponent did. Jones strolled slowly to meet me there, flexing and stretching as he walked. I needed to carefully control my body language in order to avoid looking intimidated, while Jones probably couldn’t keep from looking self-assured if he tried. He had a natural swagger that nobody could help noticing. Instead of watching him make his grand entrance I hopped up and down on my toes, loosening up and trying to stay calm.

I attacked Jones repeatedly once the first period started. Within the first minute I had shot for his legs five times. He was quick and didn’t allow me to get a good enough grip on anything. He wanted to tie up but I kept my arms down to prevent this. Although I didn’t have a scouting report I had a bad feeling about tying up with him. If he wanted it so badly it must be one of his strengths.

Eventually he seemed to realize that I wasn’t going along with that and switched his strategy. A few seconds before the period ended he shot deep, securing a double-leg. He had been so quick that I wasn’t able to sprawl to avoid the takedown. We weren’t near enough to the edge of the mat for me to even consider finding a way to get out of bounds. He moved up my body quickly, trying to beat the clock, and all I could do was to turn away to avoid going to my back. The referee signaled the two points for the takedown just as the buzzer sounded.

He was good on his feet, I had learned. Once he had decided to try leg attacks it wasn’t long before he took me down. I decided that for the second period I would take my chances starting on the mat rather than neutral position unless Coach Miles signaled me otherwise. When he shrugged with indifference I pointed at the mat and set myself in referee’s position.

On the bus ride over I had decided to see what Jones knew. When the period started I tried a Granby roll, posting on a leg, flipping sideways across my own shoulders while retaining my grasp on his wrist. Using such an advanced move was uncharacteristic for me and I was surprised that I remembered it so well. Jones handled it easily by holding on and rolling like a log behind me. When we stopped nothing had changed. I was still on bottom and he was still on top. After that didn’t work I made sure at least to keep moving. Several times I tried to stand, only to be yanked back to the mat. Next I tried a switch but again Jones thwarted me. The only positive development was that he was too busy defending against what I was doing to have any time to work on putting me on my back. That soon changed.

Halfway through the period Jones found an opportunity and attacked it. He threw a leg, hooking his left leg around mine and then riding across my back. From that position there were several directions Jones could go to put me in danger. I was in trouble. I tried all the leg counters I knew but just couldn’t get free.

When there were only twenty-five seconds left I knew Jones would have to try something. I braced for his move, hoping for an opportunity to escape. I thought he would come back towards his own body and try to wrench me back, but he went the other way. With a powerful lunge across my body he turned my hips and exposed my back to the mat, using a cross-face to control my head. The pain was excruciating as I heard the referee counting back points. The cross-face was legal but the force of his forearm on my already-injured nose was nearly unbearable. Somehow I lasted until the end of the period, by which time I trailed by 5-0.

As we untangled the referee told me that my nose was bleeding and called for blood time. Just like our own trainer had the previous week, the Redlands trainer stopped the bleeding and shoved cotton up my nose. “This is why I didn’t want you to wrestle today,” Miles snapped. I was too out of breath to answer. I started back to the center of the mat but Miles stopped me. “Let all the blood time run out. You need the rest. If it bleeds again we’re defaulting anyway.”

Jones had choice for third period and surprised me by choosing to start in the neutral position. I had expected him to choose bottom, giving him more ways to score. Apparently he felt confident about scoring from his feet despite the fact that I had held him off for most of the first period.

Maybe I was being cautious because of my tender face but I didn’t fight Jones off from my feet nearly as well as I had earlier. Again, he tried to tie up and again I resisted. Then, after faking a tie-up he ducked under my arm and slipped behind me. He was in control but still needed to bring me to the mat to earn the takedown. As a set up he pushed me forward and I reacted by pushing back. He then under-hooked both my arms from behind and threw his feet backwards, using my own momentum to pull me to the mat into a sitting position for a slick takedown. Since my back was nearly exposed he dug his chin into my shoulder and sucked me the rest of the way onto my back, earning a quick set of two back points before I was able to get out of danger. Now, the match was a rout, as I trailed 9-0.

My nose started bleeding again with twenty seconds remaining. The referee allowed a quick re-stuffing even though I had no blood time left. Knowing I was injured, Jones let the clock run without trying to score more points. When time finally ran out he had won a lopsided 9-0 victory. It was by far the worst defeat of the three I had now suffered since coming to New Jersey.

I didn’t feel as discouraged as my teammates thought I did after the match. I had to keep in mind that they hadn’t seen me lose very often and may have thought it was devastating to me when it really wasn’t. There had been plenty of losses for me before this one. I knew Jones was a great wrestler, maybe the best in the state. I felt worse about my re-injured face than I did about the match.

I rode home on the bus holding an ice pack to my nose. Again, Coach Miles tried to get me to sit out our next match that night. I told him that I wanted to wrestle and I’d wear the mask that was still in my locker. If I had been in his position I would have overruled my wrestler but he allowed me to make the decision for myself.

We got back to CFTHS at one-thirty. There were about three hours to kill before I would have to return to the school for our evening match. Most of the team went home but I really didn’t have any reason to do that. There was nobody for me at home and I couldn’t eat because I had to make weight at the evening weigh-in. I went up to the locker room to make sure the mask was there, and stashed my gym bag in my locker. There was a JV girls basketball game just starting in the gym so I watched that for a while. The same trainer who had tended to my nose last week was there for the game. She winced when she saw my face. To her trained eye it was obvious that it had been re-injured. She dug out a fresh ice pack and I camped out in the bleachers with it while watching the game.

Later, because I was feeling stiff, I took a short walk. The wrestling room was unlocked so I slipped in and rolled through some moves. Before I knew it the sun was going down and my teammates began to appear.

Parkdale had a fair team but we didn’t expect to be challenged. I would face Jesse King, who had won about half of his matches so far. The big match-up was at heavyweight. After losing his first match Robert Mendez had won fourteen matches in a row. His opponent, Ryan Wagner, had an equally stellar record of 12-1. The winner would take a major step to claiming the top seed at the district tournament next month.

When we sat down on the bench to watch the 103-pounders I had my first chance to survey the crowd. Although I knew she couldn’t possibly be here, I found myself looking for Judy. Row after row I searched, but I never saw her. I did see a man and woman who looked like Judy’s parents. Could that be? Why would they be here?

The dual meet went quickly because there were several pins. It seemed like only a few minutes after it started that I was strapping on the mask. As I remembered from practice during the week it was difficult to breathe while wearing it. When the whistle blew to begin my match nothing was more important to me than getting the initial takedown. I had wrestled six minutes already that day and hadn’t scored a point. I decided to try an ankle pick. As we circled each other I reached and put my hand on the back of his neck. I then reversed my circling direction, a perfect setup for the pick because he would be stepping towards me. I lowered my level and prepared to grab the ankle with my left hand. I intended to use my right hand, which was still on the back of his neck, to push him towards that ankle once I blocked it with my left hand.

I hadn’t considered the effect of the mask when I decided on that move. The mask severely restricted my vision, allowing me to see only what was directly in front of me. I had his neck and was preparing to take the ankle but I couldn’t see where it was! As I was moving towards his foot, and the mat, I knew I was in trouble because it was too late to stop my momentum. I lunged to where I thought the ankle should be but came up with nothing. As a result I was off-balance and in an awkward position, and King capitalized. He threw me onto my back and that’s where I stayed for the remainder of the period. I was furious with myself for giving up five points so easily.

When the period ended I was huffing and puffing, in large part due to the difficulty of breathing through the mask. I feigned trouble with it, tearing it off and pretending to examine the straps, all the while sucking in as much air as I could. The referee told me to ‘get everything together,’ knowing full well what I was up to. Reluctantly I strapped the mask back on and prepared to resume the match.

King chose the bottom position for the second period. I would have to turn him onto his back from there to score. I tried several different ways but never came close.

“Cut him!” Miles yelled from the bench when there were forty-five seconds left in the second period. That was a good idea. Maybe I could take him down if I couldn’t turn him over. I let him up, giving him one more point. I now trailed 6-0. I needed to work quickly, and I did. I shot in and picked up a single leg. Lifting the leg high, I stepped across and tripped the other leg and covered for the takedown.

I had already begun to release King again even before I heard Miles telling me to do it. As soon as he turned to face me I attacked, throwing in a cradle. The referee awarded another takedown after I demonstrated that I had taken control. Unfortunately the period ended before I could make further use of it. With a period to go I trailed 7-4.

I didn’t want to choose the bottom position because I had learned King was strong on top and I was afraid I couldn’t escape. Coach Miles signaled to me that I should do just that, though, so I did. It turned out that I was right. King didn’t do anything except ride a two-on-one. Both his arms were around my body and each hand had a tight grip on my right forearm. He wasn’t even attempting to score but was just trying to kill some clock. He was creative enough to get a minute into the period before being warned for stalling. For another thirty seconds he came out to the side, to make it appear that he was working a move, but never relinquished the two-on-one. With twenty-five seconds left he was called for stalling again and I was awarded one point. He was wrestling a smart match. One point for ninety seconds was a good trade for a wrestler given his situation.

I still needed two points to tie and three to win. Even though I was tired and out of breath I managed to stand up and break free. That earned me one point, closing the gap to 7-6. He wisely moved away from me and back to the center of the mat. By the time I caught up with him there were only a few ticks of the clock left. I lunged wildly at his legs, hoping to get lucky, but time expired before I was able to grab a leg. I had lost again, this time to a much less worthy opponent than this morning. After going weeks without a loss I’d now suffered two in the same day.

I was upset with myself and retired to the gym wall about twenty-five feet behind our bench. Moments like that are when a wrestler realizes that his sport is ultimately an individual one. The team score means little to the wrestler who is sitting against the back wall, brooding amid a jumble of warm-ups, headgear and water bottles. Such despondent figures were a staple at most dual meets and this time it was me. Nick Schmidt, who had won his seventeenth without a loss before I wrestled, brought my sweats over to me. “You were good,” he said. “Just that mistake with the pick in the first. Forget it, man.”

I started to explain that I hadn’t been able to find the ankle because of the mask but I was too out of breath to talk. He tapped me on the head and nodded, the way one friend communicated to another without speaking. He already knew what had happened. Knowing there was nothing more he could do he walked back to the bench. After a few minutes I put my sweats back on and did the same.

Mendez wrestled his best match of the year to date. He was surprisingly quick for a guy who weighed 240 pounds. After a minute had passed he threw his highly touted opponent to the mat and pinned him quickly. The dual meet was over. I had lost but Chapel Forge Township had won another conference match by the score of 42 –12.

I didn’t bother taking a shower. I just wanted to get home. As I was tying my sneakers Mendez came by. “Nice job,” I told him glumly.

“Thanks,” he replied. He laid the usual clichés on me about keeping my head up. It did make me feel better to know that he hadn’t lost faith in me. It was a good feeling to be part of a team.

“Thanks,” I said. “But I stunk tonight. Today, too.”

“Hey, good party tonight over at Demey’s,” he said, changing the subject. “You’re not blowing us off again are you?”

“Do you think I could get in?” I asked. Why not, I thought. What else was I going to do, study?

“Sure, we can go together if you want.”

He wanted to pick me up at home but I didn’t need anybody else learning where I live. I told him that I’d rather meet him there. He looked at his watch. “It’s eight-fifteen now. How about we meet at nine-fifteen, as near to the place as possible? We’ll find each other.” He told me generally where the party was and then he was gone.

That was exciting. I would have preferred that Judy surprise me, the way she had last week, and coax me back for a quiet evening at home. That wasn’t going to happen. Judy was down in Atlantic City with her boyfriend checking out boats and who knows what else. I felt badly about how I’d misread Judy all this time. I pictured her having dinner in Atlantic City with a handsome college stud after a day at the boat show and I felt like a loser. It dawned on me that Judy hadn’t even invited me over to her house the night before. It had been Karen who invited me. Judy probably never wanted me there in the first place. The only up side was that not having Judy around would simplify my life.

Going to a party was something that I had forbidden myself to do until then. All I was supposed to do was wrestle and then crawl back out of sight. That had less and less appeal, I was finding. The more I thought about it, the easier it was to convince myself that going to that party was the right thing to do. Well, at least that it wasn’t the wrong thing to do. Besides, I had a bad day on the mat. What better way to forget about it?

After a long hot shower I felt pretty good. Somehow my nose hurt more than it did a week earlier but didn’t look nearly as bad. The black eyes had faded a lot in the last day or two. I should have eaten something but it was getting close to the time that I was going to meet Mendez. I grabbed a couple of apples and left.

Finding the right street was easy because there were so many cars parked on the curb. Before I had a chance to worry about meeting up with Mendez he pulled up behind me in his truck. I took a deep breath and got out of the car. It was party time. Was I up to it?

We didn’t even bother to knock on the front door because there was loud music blaring and nobody would have heard us anyway. After we walked in Mendez immediately ran into people he knew. Whenever it was possible he introduced me to his friends. To most people it mattered only that I was on the wrestling team.

A minute later Mendez disappeared down a hallway with a few guys. I didn’t think I had the right to follow so I didn’t. Now, I was alone and started to feel self-conscious. I didn’t know a single person there. Despite the locker room chatter about the party there weren’t even any other wrestlers there besides Mendez and me.

I wandered into the kitchen. At a table there was a rowdy bunch of kids engaged in a game of quarters. I pretended to be acutely interested because it made me feel less out of place.

Something attracted my attention from across the room. I looked up and saw a group of obviously intoxicated girls. One was waving both hands trying to get my attention. It was Carrie McCracken, a varsity cheerleader and also one of the most attractive girls in the school. We’d never spoken a word to each other but there she was waving me down as if we had known each other for years.

When she saw that she had my attention she held up a bottle of beer, which I gathered she was offering to me. It took about half a minute to get through the crowd but soon I had joined the girls.

“Hi Ben,” Carrie said, shouting so she could be heard over the din. “Want a beer?” she asked, holding the bottle toward me.

“Yeah, thanks,” I shouted back, taking the bottle. As I did I acknowledged privately that I was breaking yet another one of my rules. “How did you know my name?” I yelled.

“Let’s go back there,” she said, pointing to a room off the kitchen and away from the source of the music. Much to my surprise she took my hand and led me through the crowd and out of the room. “I can hardly hear you,” she yelled back in my direction.

That room was much less crowded. We sat down on a couch and I opened my beer. It was my first in months and the first swallow tasted great. “I saw your match tonight, Ben. You looked awfully good to me,” she said in a sing-song voice.

“I didn’t see any cheerleaders.”

“So you do know me,” she said with a sideways smile.

“You’re Carrie, right?”

She nodded while taking a long drink from her own beer. “We try not to miss any matches even if we’re not cheering.” It was clear that she had consumed many a beer before I had arrived. It was awkward but at the same time I was enjoying the attention. By then I was halfway finished with my beer. The alcohol had gone to my head quickly, probably because of my empty stomach.

“Who did you come with?” she asked.

“Robert Mendez. He kind of disappeared. I don’t really know anybody else here except for you.” Of course, the truth was, I didn’t know her either except her name.

“I’ll take care of you. Just stick with me,” she said, right before she chugged the last of her beer. “Do you want another one?” she asked.

I hadn’t finished my first one but was sure that I’d want another so I said “Sure.” That would have to be my last.

The rowdy group was still crowded around the table as we passed through. “I’m in next game!” Carrie called. She grabbed two more beers from a cooler that I hadn’t noticed and then pulled me over to the table. A minute later somebody left. Carrie shoved me into the chair and quickly sat down on my lap. Ten minutes later I was nearly finished with beer number two. By that time Carrie had one arm around my shoulder.

A few minutes later Mendez drifted into the room. Apparently he had downed a few as well and he was more animated than usual. When he saw me with Carrie McCracken on my lap with her arm around me his face lit up. He didn’t say a word but flashed me an AOK signal and a huge smile. All I could do was laugh.

Twenty minutes later Mendez reappeared. I was still at the table with Carrie. Somebody had handed me another beer a few minutes earlier and I had been foolish enough to open it, so I was on my third. My old life was somehow blending with my new one and although I was still coherent it was getting difficult to remember where I was and what I was doing. It didn’t register to me that there was a problem as I watched Mendez, who didn’t look so carefree anymore. This time he was gesturing across the room with his thumb and urgently yelling something that I couldn’t understand.

Seconds later I saw what he was trying to tell me. Trailing behind somebody I didn’t know into the room walked Judy! I couldn’t believe my eyes. The alcohol had slowed my senses and for a few seconds I was filled with delight that she had come. Then, of course, I realized what she was looking at with such shock. I was sitting at a table, half empty beer in my hand and most likely a dazed expression on my face with a varsity cheerleader hanging all over me. There was no way she could be happy with what she was seeing.

To compound my predicament I couldn’t get up until I got Carrie to understand that I needed her to get off my lap. By the time I made that happen Judy was gone. I assumed she was heading for the door so I weaved my way through the crowd to catch up with her.

Lucky for me she had taken her coat off when she came in. She had just extricated hers from the heap when I came into the room and found her.

“Judy!” I yelled, trying to be heard over the music. “I didn’t know you were coming!”

“I wish I hadn’t!” she yelled back. That was the first time I realized how angry she was. Now I was really confused. Just one night earlier I had come to the conclusion that she wasn’t interested in me after all. Now this?

“What’s wrong Judy? I don’t get you!”

“That’s right, you don’t. And you won’t.”

That’s what I got for getting into a public argument with somebody who has a 4.3 GPA. She was making a monkey of me. By then she was zipping up her coat.

“Just leave me alone,” she said tersely as she turned toward the door.

“What’s going on? Why are you so pissed at me?”

She whirled to face me. “I saw you and your friend in there, Ben Petrovic, so just save it, alright? You’re not what I thought you were.”

“What?” I shouted in disbelief. Now it was my turn to be angry. She had no right to suddenly act as though we had some kind of exclusive relationship after what had happened the night before. “What are you talking about? You don’t care what I am, anyway. To you I’m just some jerk on the wrestling team.”

She didn’t say anything as she tightened a blue scarf around her neck. “What were you doing today?” I demanded. “Down at the beach with your college guy that you didn’t bother to tell me about! How do you think I felt when you had your dad read me the riot act last night?”

Her face changed instantly from angry to crestfallen. “It wasn’t like that. I told you about that last night, Ben.”

“Yeah, you told me,” I spat back. “But only because I already knew.”

“I told you,” she repeated, so quietly this time that I could barely hear her words. She was close to tears. I wanted to wrap my arms around her, anything to keep her from feeling sad, but I didn’t think she’d let me and that would be even more embarrassing. Instead, I just let her leave.

After she closed the door the room erupted in mock applause. “You don’t need that brainy scank anyway,” a faceless voice called out.

Mendez, who knew more of the brief history between Judy and me than anybody else, had been watching the whole thing. “Man, you got dissed, but you’ve got one heck of a consolation prize in the other room!”

What I really wanted to do was to get out of there, if I could, and never make a mistake like that again. It wouldn’t have been right to leave without saying goodbye to Carrie, I decided. I didn’t want to embarrass her by standing her up. I carefully placed my near-full beer bottle on the coffee table. I was sure that it would be accidentally knocked over within two minutes but at that moment it really didn’t matter to me.

Carrie had left the game of quarters. I didn’t see her in the front of the house so I headed toward the back room. I was busily concocting a story about why I needed to leave when I stopped dead in my tracks. On the couch, exactly where she and I had been earlier, Carrie was locked in a clinch with another guy. I had no idea who he was and didn’t care. If Carrie remembered hanging out with me at all she wouldn’t have anything to be angry about. I said goodbye to Mendez and walked out the front door.

The cold hit me hard when I stepped outside. I walked around the neighborhood until I was sure I was in condition to drive. When I returned to my car it was nearly midnight and there were several other departing partiers. I had no trouble at all getting home. My walk around the neighborhood had chilled me to the bone. I quickly changed into some sweats and burrowed into my bed.

That day had been a disaster. I lost two matches, including one in which I wrestled poorly against an inferior opponent. I’d broken a few of my own rules by going to that party and getting too close with Carrie. Worst of all, I had blown my relationship with Judy, the one person in my new life I’d come to care about. It was alarming that she was able to find me at all and I wondered where she was getting her information. That hardly mattered with the way things were turning out. The next day I planned to stay inside all by myself and keep out of trouble.

Chapter 8

All I could think about the next day was how things had gone so badly so quickly with Judy. I was still dismal that her father had lectured me about the boyfriend and I wondered whether Judy had put him up to it. It was awfully suspicious that nobody was around when I arrived, giving him the perfect chance alone with me. Then, as soon as he was finished they all appeared as if on cue. I hoped that Judy hadn’t done that to me deliberately. Maybe she felt trapped because her parents would be unhappy about my coming over at all. Or maybe I was just thinking way too much about all of it. It could all have happened spontaneously.

When I walked into the cafeteria at lunch time on Monday my stomach was churning the same way it did before a match. With my chemistry book and my orange I headed for empty space. I needed to review some rules on balancing equations but the book was there mostly as a prop so I could look busy. After I peeled my orange I dared to lift my head and look around.

They were there, Judy and her gaggle of friends, at their usual place across the cafeteria. Judy and Karen had their backs to me, probably by design, but three others were facing me. Every once in a while they looked over in my direction. I wasn’t surprised but I watched carefully for a few minutes to make sure it wasn’t my imagination. By that time I was certain I had been demonized in their eyes. “It turns out that Ben is just like the rest,” they were probably saying. “When I caught up with him Saturday night he was drunk, and he was necking with that Carrie McCracken!”

The sick feeling in my stomach wouldn’t go away. Eventually I stopped trying to be discreet and just looked openly in their direction. It was obvious that the girls who could see me were relaying what they were seeing to Judy and Karen. Mouths started moving quicker, shoulders became hunched and heads started shifting to odd angles. They were watching me just as I was watching them. I could almost hear them whispering “He’s looking over here!”

After I finished the orange I decided that I’d had enough excitement. There was no reason to stay if there was just going to be a staring contest. I scooped up my trash and my book and walked out, slowing only to pitch the bag of orange peels into a trash can.

Judy was already at her desk, still as a statue, when I arrived at history class. She didn’t look up as I approached her. Even though I had just as much reason to be angry I was determined to take the high road.

“Hi Judy,” I said when I was close enough. I didn’t break stride, though I strained to hear anything she said after I passed. I thought that I heard her grunt something back. That was it for our communication for the day. Somehow I was disappointed even though it wasn’t unexpected. Whatever she had seen in me before she didn’t see anymore.

Coach Miles agreed that I should sit out the Wednesday match. In fact, he brought it up before I did. Unlike the previous week I didn’t even bother to weigh in and dress for that match. While the rest of the team was preparing I was out in the gym helping the managers. They were running behind schedule so I volunteered to take care of the mat-cleaning duties. As fans filed in for the match I was walking up and down the mat pushing a broom that was draped with disinfectant-soaked towels. If Brad could see me now.

The next day the new South Jersey individual rankings came out. I was no longer ranked because of my two losses over the weekend. The loss to Jones was forgivable but whoever compiled the rankings looked at my loss to King on Saturday night quite unfavorably. The implications of my disastrous weekend were still materializing on all fronts.

Coach Miles suggested before practice on Friday that I sit out the Saturday matches as well. That would give me two additional days for recovery, which could make a big difference, he thought. “It’s getting to the point where we might run out of time. We’ve got to get you healed up for districts. You’d feel pretty bad if you busted your face up again tomorrow.”

“Don’t I need to pile up some more wins?” I asked. “I just dropped out of the top five.”

“Getting your face all better is more important,” he answered firmly. “Nobody cares about those rankings anyway. There won’t be any problem with missing these matches. You lost a lot of blood on the mat and everybody saw it. The committee won’t hold an injury like that against you.”

On Saturday we wrestled an away quad meet against three conference teams. That meant that I missed three more matches against possible district opponents. Despite what Coach Miles said I couldn’t imagine that sitting for so long wasn’t hurting my chances of getting a decent seed. The good news was that we beat two of the three teams in the quad.

I carefully checked the bleachers during each match to see if Judy had shown up. It was easy enough to do since I was sitting on the bench in street clothes watching fans come and go. She never came.

The following Monday morning, however, I did see Judy. She dropped by my locker a few minutes before homeroom.

“Hi ,” I said, the way I always did, trying not to look surprised.

“Hi,” she answered. That was a start. Or was it?

There was an awkward silence. Then she dropped a bomb. “How are you and Carrie doing? Is she enjoying the season?”

“How should I know?”

“Hasn’t she been coming to see you wrestle?”

“I haven’t been wrestling.”

“Your nose?” The spite was momentarily gone from her voice.

I nodded. Why in the world had she come by? Just to get in a dig at me? “I never asked. How was your date in Atlantic City last week?”

“It was great,” she said flatly as she turned and left.

Just by coincidence I did run into Carrie later that day, just after the last period of classes. I had grabbed my bag of wrestling gear from my locker and was heading down to practice. It was to be my first day of live wrestling after taking a week off. I was sure I could feel the extra weight hanging off me even though it was only a few pounds, and I was anxious to get back to work. I was walking quickly with my head down when Carrie jumped into my path to get my attention. Ever since the party I’d been wondering if she remembered anything at all about what had happened. It turned out she did. When she saw me she turned away from the friends she was with. “Hi Ben,” she said sweetly. “Your nose is looking better. Ben, where did you disappear to that night? I waited for you to come back.”

I almost laughed out loud. If she had waited it was for no more than two minutes before she found somebody else to focus her attention on. I played it straight. “Sorry, about that, Carrie.” There was no way to know how much she remembered or even knew in the first place. “I’ll make it up to you, alright?” Wow! Where had that come from? What did I say that for?

“I’ll hold you to it,” she said with a big smile. “Don’t forget now,” she teased as she walked away. I pretended to rearrange the contents of my gym bag as I watched her walk away.

When I turned to resume my walk to the locker room I saw somebody else I knew. Judy and Karen were heading for the door. I couldn’t think of any reason for them to be down near the gym. I wondered if they’d been waiting for me. Had they seen me talking to a laughing, smiling Carrie McCracken? Did it matter anyway?

Chapter 9

As a team we stumbled at the halfway point of the season, losing dual meets to two conference opponents in early February. One of those was against Collington. In that one I was re-matched with Ken Brown, who had beaten me twice in December. This time I lost a dull match by a score of 5-0.

During practice I continued to work with the younger guys when I could. I enjoyed that, and many of them were lacking when it came to the basics of wrestling. A few of the kids didn’t have any natural ability or instinct for the sport at all but tried to make for it with hard work. Most of them absorbed like sponges most of what I taught them and I saw them improving each day. I tried to help during JV matches as well. Instead of lurking in the locker room with the other varsity wrestlers I sat on the bench with Coach Miles, trying to help out as much as possible.

Our last match before districts was scheduled for Saturday, February 14. I would enter that match with a record of 17 wins and 5 losses. Three of those losses were to Brown of Collington. Coach Miles had been reviewing the records of all the wrestlers in our district and had done some preliminary estimates on how he thought each of us would be seeded. Nothing would be final, of course, until after the seeding meeting. At that meeting the coaches would settle how each weight class should be seeded. Working with the detailed guidelines they would hammer out a seeding of up to twelve wrestlers in each weight class. Miles told me that I shouldn’t expect to be seeded higher than fourth, which was a disappointment for me. All but one of my losses came at the hands of state place winners and I had beaten several other wrestlers from the district.

“Maybe it’s different in North Carolina,” he said patiently. “Here, past district results are high on the list of criteria. There are two returning placers in your weight class. Unless you beat them head to head during the season they’ll definitely be seeded ahead of you. Not having any local history is working against you here.”

It really didn’t matter that much, I decided. To place I would still have to beat the best wrestlers eventually, whether they were returning placers or not. Having a low seed just meant that I would have tougher tune-up matches. Nobody I saw in the early rounds should be much of an obstacle for me if I wrestled my best.

I settled into a routine of sorts with Judy. We didn’t hang out at lunch anymore but we still had history class together. Most days, when I arrived early enough, I swung past her desk on the way to mine. Day after day I forced myself to say “Hi, Judy,” and she always responded with a dull “Hi.” That was the extent of our personal contact for about three weeks.

On the way home from practice on Thursday night I stopped at the drug store and bought a Valentine’s Day card for her. I didn’t plan to write much of anything in it. I left the card alone until after I had finished my homework. Later I wrote something out of a song from the Cars album that Judy had noticed was still shrink-wrapped a few weeks ago. I guess that was why one of the songs reminded me of Judy:

Hi Judy,

You really do give me a twirl anyway

Have a great Valentine’s Day!!

Ben

It was just right, just what I wanted. It was lifted straight out of ‘The Girl in My Dreams.’ That line had probably been a Ric Ocasek ad-lib.

I sealed it into the red envelope and printed her name, first and last, across the front. Then I carefully placed it in the pocket of my book bag. To make sure she got it in time I would have to find a way to deliver it in school the next day. I probably could have asked Karen to deliver it for me. Or I could have slipped it through one of the slats in her locker door, but then I wouldn’t have any idea when she would find it.

I didn’t go to the cafeteria for lunch. Some of the wrestlers had been gathering regularly in the gym to run during lunch time. So far I hadn’t participated because I preferred to do my running alone at home. That night, however, sleet and freezing rain were in the forecast and I didn’t want to be out running in that. I changed into some sweats and joined the herd in the gym. After two laps I decided that I was wasting my time. There just wasn’t enough room in the gym for thirteen guys to run hard enough to get anything out of it and everybody was trudging along almost as if they were walking. I dropped out and ran suicide sprints up and down the basketball court as the wrestlers circled me. A few others joined me, one by one, so that by the end of the lunch period half of us were doing sprints while the other half were jogging. I don’t think anybody got much out of it except to sweat out a little water weight.

As usual, I said hello to Judy in history class. At one point I had considered dropping the envelope on her desk as I passed but I decided not to. That would be too easy for both of us. I was leaning towards entrusting Karen to deliver it later if I could find her. After my last class I still didn’t have any idea what I would do. I simply had to make that delivery. It was too important to let it go, but there was only one way left to get it done.

I slammed my locker door closed and took a deep breath. Then I extracted the envelope from my book-bag and slipped it under my sweatshirt. My palms were sweating by the time I reached the hallway that I knew Judy passed through every day at that time. Karen saw me first. They had stopped to talk with somebody I didn’t know and I was already walking directly at them when she looked up. I had passed the point of no return and so I was relieved when Karen smiled. She elbowed Judy and I saw her say something that looked like “Here comes Ben.”

Judy didn’t look as receptive as Karen did. Instead, she looked like she was confused, annoyed or scared. I busied myself pulling the envelope out as I approached. They both turned towards me.

“Hi, Judy,” I said as cheerfully as possible, which was difficult considering how nervous I was. “Hi Karen,” I added quickly.

“Hey Ben, how’s the face?” Karen said. I was glad she was there because I knew she’d at least talk to me. It was comforting that she didn’t seem to be angry with me. If Judy had put a bad spin on the episode at the party that night Karen hadn’t bought into it.

“Much better. Thanks for asking.”

Judy said nothing but forced a half smile. That didn’t bode well. I decided to get it done as quickly as possible. “I have something for you, Judy,” I said, pulling the red envelope out from under my sweatshirt. Miraculously I didn’t drop or bend it. My hand was shaking as I held it out to her. I’m sure she noticed and that was probably good. Judy was one of those people who would appreciate that there were a lot of strong feelings flying around inside me.

She brightened up when she understood what I was doing. Her smile widened and there was a momentary flash in her eyes that I had forgotten about.

“What a sweetheart, Ben,” Karen said. I couldn’t tell if she was being sincere or just making fun of me but I appreciated it either way. Judy, on the other hand, still hadn’t said a word. I could understand that. She’d had fewer than ten seconds to digest all this while I had been thinking about it for a couple of days.

I laughed at Karen’s remark. “Yeah, right,” I said wryly. “A real sweetheart.”

Judy finally spoke. “Thanks, Ben.” Had I been expecting too much?

My work was done and I had a great excuse for a fast exit. “My pleasure,” I answered. “Look, I’m late for practice so I’d better get moving.”

“Don’t want to miss rolling around with a bunch of sweaty, smelly guys, right?” Karen joked. At least I hoped she was joking. I shot her a look. She had no inkling of the lengths I’d gone to have that opportunity again.

“Bye Ben, and thanks,” Judy said as I was leaving. I gave her a quick smile as I turned away to head down to practice. It had gone as well as I could have hoped but I had no idea what Judy was really thinking.

We had a good practice, going heavy on the live wrestling and only a few minutes of drilling. It felt good to work so hard. We could hardly drag ourselves to the locker room after we had finished.

I was excited more about Judy than anything that happened at practice. I was sure that she would be there waiting for me when it was over after she’d had some time to appreciate the valentine. Naturally, then, when I poked around a few corners without finding her I was disappointed. Once again I was reminded of my doubts about how well I had known Judy in the first place, and how I may have misjudged what had been developing between us.

As I was leaning against the wall enjoying my own disappointment Nick appeared out of nowhere. “We’re going with two captains tomorrow,” he said. “Are you in?”

“Two captains?”

“Yeah. This’ll be my last dual meet,” he explained. I had forgotten that. For the past four years he had been on the CFTHS varsity, three of those as captain. “We need to get you broken in. You can’t lead the team next year without a little experience, right?”

In a way it was silly. Both he and I knew that I was already a team leader in every way but by title. He was completely serious, though, and I was touched. “Are you sure you’re okay with this, Nick? You’re the captain, not me.”

“It was my idea. It’ll be you and me tomorrow.”

I got home before seven o’clock and realized that I had absolutely nothing to do. I wondered what my new high school friends were doing. I had a real handicap in that I couldn’t safely invite anybody over to my place. The more people who figured out that I lived alone, the greater the risk of being exposed.

Really, it was amazing that it had been so easy to pull it off so far. I had never once had any difficulty at all even though I didn’t have a parent within five-hundred miles. Actually, I reminded myself, I didn’t have a parent anywhere on the planet anymore. Somehow, nobody seemed to notice that there didn’t seem to be any parents in my life. Often I tried to remember how it had been when I did live with my parents. I just couldn’t remember whether or not they had ever been actively involved in anything I was doing, to the point of being visible to others. I had no recollection of much interaction by them with any of my teachers or coaches. Sure, they signed report cards, attended wrestling matches, and saw me graduate from grade school and then junior high, but they were just faces in a crowd. Would anybody have noticed if they hadn’t been around? I would have thought the answer was yes, but if that was true, why wasn’t it being noticed now?

I slept in on Saturday morning. Our match against Cross Keys Regional was at home and not until two o’clock. To pass the time I took care of a little homework and paid a few bills. I got to the high school early, partially because I wanted to check my weight but mostly because I was bored and had run out of things to do at home.

I was even more certain that Judy would be at the match that day than I had been about seeing her after practice the previous night. Lots of students would be there. It was a fun thing to do on a cold winter Saturday. True, Judy and the people she hung out with hadn’t made a habit of attending sporting events, but even so, I expected her to be there for this one.

Since it was our last match Coach Miles decided that senior Paul Ragone would start at 145 instead of freshman Kevin McGuire. I thought Coach was doing the right thing by putting Paul in the lineup for the last dual meet of his career. I asked around and none of the guys could remember him starting any match although he had been on the team all four years.

When Coach announced to the team that Ragone would start McGuire had immediately protested. He was drowned out by a chorus of derision and quickly shut up. The steady, quiet Ragone was popular among his teammates while the immature and outspoken McGuire was not.

I knew nothing about my opponent except that his name was Silas. It had gotten so I preferred it that way. It made it much easier to wrestle my own match without making any adjustments based on what I’d heard about another wrestler.

The thrill I felt when Nick and I led the team onto the mats was surprisingly intense. Curiously, I had never felt such a strong bond with my teammates back home in the past as I did with this team. I was proud that they accepted me as a leader, especially because I was the newest member of the team. I couldn’t imagine that happening where I had come from. Was it so different in New Jersey or had I changed?

After we were on the bench, when the match was about to begin, I searched the crowd. Again, I didn’t see Judy. Instead of dwelling on it I turned my thoughts to the match. There was plenty of time for wondering about her later and I knew I would be doing it.

We dropped a couple of early bouts but were still in the lead when Ragone took to the mat at 145. Unfortunately, he was soundly beaten by a score of 11-3 by a pretty good wrestler. Two times, once in the first and once in the third period, his opponent put him in deadly pinning combinations. We all admired Ragone’s determination not to get pinned. He kicked, fought and rolled as hard as he could both times and successfully avoided the pin. After the referee raised his opponent’s hand in victory I stood up on our bench and started clapping for Paul. Almost immediately the rest of the guys did the same. A few seconds later all of our fans and some of Cross Key’s were politely applauding although I don’t know how many of them knew why.

Before I stepped onto the mat for my match I had decided that a pin was essential. It had been weeks since I’d pinned anybody and I didn’t want to go into districts with that hanging over my head. Silas took a quick shot at the opening whistle, capturing my ankle. I sprawled onto his back, locked my hands and waited for the referee to call a stalemate. His quick shot told me one thing: he knew what he was doing.

When we restarted neither of us took any shots. He wanted to tie up but I didn’t go along with that. After he reached twice for a tie up I thought I saw a pattern. When he reached for the third time I lowered my level, stepped in and secured a double-leg. Before he was able to counter I pulled his legs to my chest and dumped him for a takedown and two points. He began to work to get back to his hands and knees but before he could I inserted an arm bar. Then I took his far wrist, came out to the side, and turned him over with the bar. The period ended before I could pin him but I had compiled a 5-0 lead.

He chose to start on bottom in the second period. I had turned him easily with an arm bar in the opening period and planned to go back to that as soon as possible. I used an ankle ride to break him down to his stomach but quickly released the ankle once I had done that. The arm bar wasn’t there this time but he had lifted his left arm off the mat, inviting me to sink a half nelson, so I did that instead. As I had done with the arm bar, I took his far wrist and cranked him over with the half nelson. I craned my neck while the referee was counting back points, to try to see the scoreboard. There was almost a minute and a half left in the period. Unlike in the first period I would have time to finish him off.

He struggled valiantly but since I had control of the far arm his options were limited. When he committed himself to rolling away from me I switched to a reverse half nelson. I heard Coach Miles yelling “Get on your toes!” I followed the instruction immediately. That way, instead of me supporting my own weight that burden was shifted to Silas. That made the difference, as the referee slapped the mat seconds later. With that victory in hand I would enter the post-season with an 18-5 record. It wasn’t a dominant record, thanks mostly to Ken Brown, but it was the best record I’d ever had.

Some of the guys told me about a Valentine’s Day party they knew about, trying to get me to come. I told them I’d think about it but that I had an English paper to work on. It wasn’t exactly false. I was working on a paper. It wasn’t exactly true, either. My paper was finished and I just needed to proofread it. I just didn’t want to go to a party that night. I was sure it would be just like the last one. Everybody would get a little crazy, do some things they regret, and some guys would end up with some girls. I just wasn’t interested anymore.

That wasn’t exactly it. The truth was that I was sad that Judy hadn’t come to see me wrestle. That was the real reason I didn’t feel like going out. There was only one girl that I wanted to end up with and I was pretty sure she wouldn’t be at that party.

Most likely she had spent the day with her college boyfriend. What was it that day, I wondered. A car show in Philadelphia? I envisioned them having a romantic dinner somewhere, talking and thinking about anything except Ben Petrovic.

That evening I treated myself to a six-inch turkey hoagie from Subway. It was safe to indulge myself because we didn’t have weigh-ins until Thursday when the district tournament would begin. An hour later I was sitting alone in my condo on Valentine’s Night eating a sandwich and watching a bad movie while wondering where Judy was. I found myself straining to remember exactly why it was that I had been so determined to get back to high school.

Chapter 10

There was some disturbing mail from Brad waiting for me when I returned from the late match on Saturday. We’d kept communication to a minimum and we’d never done anything by mail so I knew this was serious even before I opened it. There was no return address and no letter inside the envelope -- just a neatly clipped article from a newspaper.

The article described an unsolved arson case from a year earlier in which an unnamed man died of asphyxiation. According to the article the police were now investigating the possibility that there was a link between the fire and the similarly unsolved murder that had taken place at the house a few months earlier.

I folded it and tucked it into my Upper Raleigh High School yearbook, which had become my hidden repository for documents and anything else that I absolutely couldn’t afford for anybody to see. The trail was faint, or so I hoped, but of course there was a link between the murder and the fire – an angry, vengeful son who hadn’t been heard from in North Carolina since the day the house burned down.

Knowing that I couldn’t account for my whereabouts since then without arousing a ridiculous level of suspicion, I suddenly felt less assured that the incident was behind me. When I returned to school on Monday I was worried. I was also completely free of the delusion that Judy had any interest in me at all. Her lack of response to the Valentine’s Day card had made that clear. I wasn’t sure what I was more upset about, Judy or the police investigation. When I came into history class I proceeded directly to my own seat and sat down without saying anything to her.

The seeding meeting took place Wednesday night. Rather than waiting until practice we all converged in Coach’s classroom Thursday morning to see how it had gone. I was third in a field of eleven, which was better than Coach Miles had led me to expect. It seemed promising that all of my losses except for the one to King had been at the hands of wrestlers who weren’t from my district. I was sure that I could beat King if I was healthy and maskless. He and I would square off in the semifinals on Saturday morning, assuming both of us got that far. Before that I would wrestle the winner between two low-seeded kids who I knew nothing about.

The district tournament was the first step in winnowing down the field as the state championships approached. Every wrestler from every team in the state participated in districts but only three per weight class would survive and wrestle in regions the following week. This was the point at which more wrestlers were eliminated than any other time. It would be less dramatic than it sounded, I suspected, because most of the kids eliminated were not good enough to compete for region or state titles.

At lunch time on the first day of the tournament I went for a run in the gym with some of the guys to ensure that I would be on weight that night. As had become the norm, I didn’t bother with Judy in history class but went directly to my desk. After class I felt a tug at the sleeve of my shirt as I was heading to my locker. I turned and saw Judy, with a very serious look on her face. “Ben,” she said quietly. “I really want to talk with you sometime.”

I was dumbstruck but managed to answer. “Uh, okay, sure, about what? I mean, sure, I’d like to, anytime.”

“Well, I know you’re busy with your district tournament tonight.”

“How did you know about that?”

She half-smiled as she shook her head slowly. “You just don’t know, do you Ben?”

“No,” I admitted.

“We better hurry. We’ll be late for class.”

“Okay.”

We hadn’t agreed on a time or a place and I really wasn’t sure when we would get together, if we did at all. It felt good anyway. It felt really good.

After my last class I headed to the gym where the team was meeting for the bus ride to the district tournament at East Point High School. Reggie McKenzie, who always seemed to know exactly what I was thinking, started laughing when he saw me. “And what exactly has happened to you since lunch time, Mr. Petrovic? You don’t look quite the same as you did then.”

“Nothing much,” I said, feeling my face flush.

“Yeah, nothing, right,” he said sarcastically, with a big smile.

On the way to the tournament I forced myself to think about wrestling although it was hardly necessary. Along with half the team I didn’t have a match that night. Coach Miles hadn’t insisted that everybody come but it seemed like I should. Besides, I wanted to see my teammates wrestle and what else was I going to do?

The opening session ran longer than I had anticipated and I was stiff and restless sitting in the bleachers. It was a reminder of the agony that our parents had gone through for years, waiting patiently at tournament after tournament. I wished I had brought some sweats so I could loosen up in the warm-up room. I’d been sitting in one spot since putting my street clothes back on after weighing in. By the end of the night I was sore from the inactivity.

Kevin McGuire was the only one of our guys who was beaten that first night. That meant his season was over. I tried to console him but he was in a nasty mood after losing and waved me away. Whatever, I thought. I really didn’t care about him anyway.

I checked my weight the next morning and saw that I didn’t need a lunchtime run so I was able to eat my orange and relax in the cafeteria. Judy and her group were in the usual place but I still didn’t feel comfortable about heading over to join them.

Her lookouts spotted me eating by myself. That was obvious. Judy never looked over but the rest of them did. I began to understand that she was struggling with something that had to do with me. Whatever was bothering her would take time to work out. After I finished my orange and couldn’t think of any other ways to look occupied I got up and walked out.

When we returned to East Point for the next round of districts I found myself checking the bracket sheets even though I already knew I would be wrestling Scott Saunders, a junior from the host school. With three mats going the wrestling went quickly once it started. There were lots of matches between high and low seeds and those matches often didn’t go all six minutes. Before I knew it the public address announcer called my match on deck. A subsequent announcement summoned me to the mat. “Now on mat one, From Chapel Forge, Ben Petrovic, from East Point, Scott Saunders.”

“Don’t waste any time, go after him right away,” Miles told me as I stripped off my sweats and pulled the straps of my singlet over my shoulders.

“Why, is he good in the third period?” I asked, wondering if I should have gotten a scouting report on Saunders.

“No, Dennis is on deck on mat three so I need to get over there as soon as possible,” he replied, referring to our 189-pounder Dennis Ruchinskas. We both had a quick laugh.

The referee could hardly hold me back before he finally blew the whistle to start the match. I already knew what I wanted to try to do first -- an ankle pick, the move that had such disastrous results during the season against Jesse King. We both reached for a tie-up immediately, but I had no plans to stay with that. Once my hand was in place on the back of his neck, I worked to set him up for the pick by pushing him side to side. When he committed to moving to his right I toppled him for a 2-0 lead.

After a minute on top I hadn’t had any success in turning him over. He attempted a switch that was coming dangerously close to earning him two reversal points so I yanked my arm out and let him escape for one point instead. Then, before he had a chance to get set I took a quick shot and picked up his leg. From there it was easy enough to work that for another takedown before the period ran out. I led 4-1 after one period.

Saunders won the coin toss and chose to start the next period in the bottom position. It was a wise choice, I thought, because I’d had difficulty riding him in the first period. This time, when the period started I ran one arm under his armpit and the other across his body and between his legs in a spiral ride. All I wanted to do was hold him until I decided what to do. His head was down and so I began thinking cradle.

I preferred the near side “bow-and-arrow” cradle but my arms were already in position for the traditional far-side cradle so I went with that. I shifted my hips to his side and managed to take his leg and then bring my hands together, locking them tightly just below his chin. Whether he knew it or not, he was in serious trouble. With one foot and one knee on the mat I wrenched him backwards. As the referee started counting back points I jammed my knee into his side just below his ribs. The match ended only a few seconds after that. I had wrestled well and advanced to the semifinals with a pin at 2:39 in the second period.

“Beautiful, Ben, beautiful!” Coach Miles was yelling as he clapped me on the back. “You keep doing it just like that,” he said just before he bounded over to coach Dennis Ruchinskas in his quarterfinal match. As I left another wrestler and coach were simultaneously moving into the corner that Coach Miles and I had just occupied. That was a scene that would occur over and over for the rest of the night -- one coming and one going.

As I stood off to the side of the mat pulling my warm-ups onto my sweaty body I saw Jesse King’s hand being raised in victory on the other mat. Now I had no need to check the bracket sheets. I would have a rematch with King in the morning. I was confident that this time I would win.

Surprisingly, Chapel Forge wrestlers were winning match after match. After the quarterfinal round we had seven who had advanced to the semis, which was more than any other team. Miles had never won a district championship, Nick told me later. It looked like we had a good shot at winning one this time. I hadn’t realized that anybody really cared about winning this tournament as a team. It was comprised of only twelve schools with nothing in common except that they happened to be close together geographically. I had thought the district tournament was held merely to weed out wrestlers and set the field for the region tournament next weekend but apparently it meant more than that.

When we returned early the next morning for the nine o’clock semifinal session it felt like we’d never left. I had carefully searched the bleachers the night before. There were some students from Chapel Forge who had come to watch us, but not Judy. Today might be different.

There wasn’t much of a crowd in the gym for the semifinals. This stage of a district tournament was too early in the day for anybody but family, close friends or wrestling fanatics to be there. It was easy for me to see that Judy wasn’t there because not many other people were either.

I planned to attack Jesse King in our semifinal match with the same aggressive style I had wrestled with the night before. As it turned out, King had a similar plan. We wrestled a ferocious first period during which we repeatedly attacked each other’s legs. Every time one of us seemed to have succeeded with a single or double leg takedown the other managed to get away. Both of us had gone all out to win the match early and as a result we both were winded after the first period, which ended with no scoring. One thing I had learned after the first period was that my loss to him during the season had been less of a fluke than I had realized.

I won the coin toss and had choice for starting position for the second period. Feeling stubborn and sure that I could take King down despite the draw we wrestled to in the first period, I indicated to Coach Miles that I wanted to start in neutral position. He shook his head adamantly, pointing to the mat. He wanted me on bottom. It was the right decision. In the third period King would almost certainly choose bottom, where only an escape was needed to score. If I didn’t do the same in the second period I would have been surrendering an advantage to him. I deferred to my coach and chose bottom.

At the beginning of the period I repeatedly tried to stand up but was unable to. King was much stronger than I remembered. When he needed to he grabbed an ankle long enough to trip me up. I tried sitting out and turning towards him. After a few attempts I thought I had managed to escape. That time he desperately lunged towards me and locked his hands around my leg just before I was free.

For the last twenty seconds of the second period I tried to stand up and run away for an escape, but that didn’t work either. We entered the third period with the score tied 0-0. King had earned an advantage by successfully riding for me for the entire second period. If he chose the bottom position for the third period, which he surely would do, he only needed an escape to win.

Over in the corner Coach Miles could tell that I was worried. He made a palms-down gesture towards the mat, trying to get me to calm down. “Don’t give up two,” he called out. If I felt that King was on the verge of taking control from me, which would be worth two points, I would release him and surrender only one point. That would give me a chance to get a takedown to win.

He did choose bottom, of course. After forty-five seconds King began trying to stand up and break free, just as I had in the second period. The first two times I back-tripped him back down. The third and fourth times I ran him off the mat. King’s coach was screaming at the referee that I should be penalized for stalling because I was forcing him out of bounds, but no call was made.

At that point there were twenty seconds left. My plan was to try to hold him down and try my luck in overtime. When he stood up again, however, my body remembered a move that my head had forgotten. I kept my right hand tightly around his waist and reached my left hand between his legs from behind, and grabbed his right thigh from the inside. Then I lifted him by the leg while retaining my tight-waist grip. It was a well-timed crotch lift that prevented him from escaping but I suddenly had more on my mind.

Throwing a turk in from a crotch lift was something I’d done a thousand times. It had been one of my favorite moves a long time ago. I lifted his right leg and stepped under it with my left leg, hooking his other leg. By design, our momentum took us to the mat. As we landed I lifted his left leg with mine, and at the same time applied a cross-face. The effect of these two maneuvers was to expose his back to the mat. A lot had happened in a short time. Five seconds after I had panicked the referee was counting back points for me.

We ended the match without any change in position. After time expired the referee signaled for three back points, the first points either of us had scored. I had won an exciting match by a score of 3-0. As I released my dejected opponent I heard my teammates going wild behind Coach Miles. There was plenty for me to worry about off the mat but for the moment I was ecstatic about how the match ended. I had qualified for the district finals and clinched a trip to the regional tournament next week.

It turned out that we put four guys into the finals, as many as any other team. We had so many other wrestlers winning in the consolation brackets that we had amassed enough points to put us in the lead for the team title. Although I had a short history as part of Chapel Forge Township wrestling I felt the same pride as my teammates about our performance.

The rest of the day for me was divided between hanging out with my teammates, cheering them on when they wrestled, and waiting until six o’clock when the finals session would begin. At that hour I thought it was reasonable that a big crowd could be expected. Unlike in my seasons in North Carolina I actually enjoyed wrestling in front of crowds. For the first time I was sure that the people watching me knew they were seeing a good wrestler.

At five-thirty the director of the tournament requested over the public address system that all finalists assemble at the main table. Before reporting I retrieved my gym bag from the stands. It was when I was carefully stepping under the ropes that surrounded the mats that I saw her across the gym.

I knew immediately that it was Judy because she was wearing the pale yellow down-filled jacket that she wore to school so often. For an experienced Judy-watcher it was an easy identification. It wasn’t clear to me who was with her but it looked like she had come with one other girl. When I saw her walk into that gym I was elated. It was too late for me to try to talk with her and I didn’t need the distraction but for me it was just one more reason to wrestle hard.

The tournament directors shooed the finalists and their coaches into the locker room for a quick meeting. They were planning a glitzy introduction of the all the finalists at the beginning of the session. Each coach was asked to submit a short list of his wrestler’s record and notable achievements. I had to tell Coach Miles that I didn’t really have any notable achievements. My record was 20-5, and I had eleven pins, and that was about it.

“Well, I guess they’ll have to find a way to talk that up as best they can, huh?” was all Coach Miles said. I was sure Nick’s introduction would be long enough, with all of the titles he’d won in the past four years, to make up for my short one. I decided to worry about wrestling rather than how my pedigree would sound.

By the time the introduction ceremony was choreographed there were only ten minutes before it would begin. There was no need for me to go anywhere so I stayed in the locker room and start thinking about my match. I noticed that many other finalists were beginning to do the same thing and except for the clanking of locker doors it was suddenly quiet.

The introductions were as exciting as anything I’d ever been part of. They really treat wrestling like a big-league sport in New Jersey, I thought. I had already peeked out into the gym and seen that it was filling up fast. I was glad I had thought to grab my gym bag before coming to the meeting.

When it was time for the introductions the lights were turned low in the gym and fourteen finalists lined up on each side of the mat. I was proud to be standing out there next to Nick, who was, as expected, a finalist in the 160-pound weight class. We were told that just before each wrestler was introduced a spotlight would be trained on him. “When the spotlight hits you,” the director had said, “go to the center of the mat. We’ll read your resume and introduce you, and then your opponent. After you both are out there, shake hands and go back to the spot you came from.”

They were introducing the wrestlers from my side first. When the spotlight hit me the butterflies that were already in my stomach multiplied. It was an unforgettable charge. I wasn’t nervous. I was excited. I walked slowly out to the center of the mat feeling the heat of the spotlight. As I walked the public address announcer announced my short and unimpressive credentials. “Wrestling in the 171-pound finals, a junior from Chapel Forge Township High School, with a record of twenty wins and five losses: Ben Petrovic!” I heard an outburst of whistling and stomping from one location. I figured that must be where the Chapel Forge fans were clustered.

After the introductions were over and the finals began I returned to the locker room to think about what I wanted to do in my match. I would be wrestling against Mike Townsend of Dahlgren High School. He was a returning district champ who had compiled a record of 16-3. All I knew about him was that he was tall and thick, and had obviously cut a lot of weight to get to 171 pounds. Since he was bigger than I was I decided to avoid any upper body moves when we were on our feet. On the mat I would keep my head up and keep moving, to try to deny him the opportunity to use his size advantage. There was no way to know but I sensed that he wasn’t very quick. If I was right, I knew that I would have enough time to react and counter his moves.

“This is your match, Ben,” Coach Miles told me after we had occupied our corner of the mat in preparation for my finals match. Nick had just won the district title and now I was up. “Be patient, like you have been,” he said. “He’s a muscle guy. Let him wear himself down some.”

Townsend and I shook hands and then the match started. As I expected, he wanted to tie up and work for an upper body takedown rather than force himself to go low enough to attack my legs. I tied up with him the first time to see how it felt before backing out of it. I tried shooting for a single-leg but came up empty both times.

He seemed to come to life then, lunging at me to attempt a simple front headlock. He wasn’t quick enough, just as I had hoped. He was able to control my arm and head but before he was able to flip me I grabbed him around the waist. We both went to our knees. He was desperately trying to put me on my back but I had a solid grip around his waist and was securely anchored behind him. His grip on my neck and head blocked both my ears so I couldn’t hear anything at all, which was an odd sensation because I knew there was a lot of noise in the gym. I knew exactly what to do from experience. I slowly but steadily began to slide my head out of his grip. If my ears weren’t completely covered I knew I would hear many voices exhorting me to “pop your head!” which was what I was already trying to do. After what seemed like minutes I succeeded in freeing my head. When I had solidified my position behind him the referee awarded me the two points for a takedown and the lead. I was able to ride him for the remaining fifteen seconds of the period, which ended with me leading 2-0.

That was a good start. In the second period Townsend chose to start in the down position. At the whistle I went quickly to a cross-face-cradle ride, draping myself over his back and reaching across his face to grasp his far shoulder. In the process, my forearm applied a steady and distracting pressure on his face and head. My other hand was between his legs from behind. For thirty seconds I tried to bring my hands together, to cradle him up. It wasn’t really a great idea to try to cradle somebody who was so long and tall but I wanted to stay on the offensive rather than let him work on escaping. I kept the cross-face in tight all the while to restrict his movement. Some of the Dahlgren fans were screaming for a stalling call at that point but the referee could see that I was working to lock a cradle in and made no call. About a minute into the period I did manage to get my hands locked, although not as close to his chin as I would have liked.

When I tried to crank him over onto his back he extended his body and broke my grip. My momentum took me backwards and Townsend easily came behind me to earn two points for a reversal. There were thirty-five seconds left in the period. Since I would start the next period in the same position that I was in now, I used these thirty-five seconds to probe, to learn how he would react to my moves. I tried a switch, which he stopped easily. Then I sat and turned in, again with no results. As the period ended I was trying to stand up and again having no luck. With one period remaining the match was tied at 2.

Without even looking over to my bench for guidance I chose the down position for third period. When the whistle blew I sat out hard and turned in. He’d been caught off guard by my quick move and was able only to follow. His leg was right there for the taking. If I hooked it from the inside I could have tried a Peterson Roll but I decided not to. He was so big that I didn’t think I could roll him and I didn’t want to risk getting stuck underneath. Instead, I hooked his leg from the outside and tried to work for a one-point escape.

We moved slowly against each other but eventually I began to feel that I was gaining the upper hand. I continued driving into him until he was forced into a sitting position. He had to have been panicking by then. Without releasing his leg I continued exerting pressure directly into him. When I stepped over his body I was very close to scoring a two-point reversal. By then he had grabbed one of my legs and was holding on for dear life hoping the referee would call a stalemate.

I began to elevate the leg I had control of. This served to slowly expose Townsend’s back to the mat. That was enough for the referee, who promptly awarded me two points for a reversal. With forty-five seconds left, I held a 4-2 lead.

Again I was unable to ride him. He was able to stand up with twenty seconds remaining. I tried to push him out of bounds but I just couldn’t make him go where he didn’t want to. I could hear Coach Miles screaming “Let him up!” With eleven seconds left I released him, reducing my lead to 4-3.

Townsend immediately tried another headlock, knowing that he had to gamble since only a few seconds remained. The headlock was so sloppy this time that I easily slipped it. When we crashed to the mat I was in perfect position to scoot behind him to earn two more insurance points. With that the match ended. I had won the district championship with a 6-3 victory in the finals. It was the first time in my life that I had ever won a tournament. As the referee raised my hand I made a mental note to talk to Coach and Nick later about why so many opponents tried to headlock me.

To keep the tournament moving, awards were being handed out between matches. I was able to catch my breath and pull my warm-ups on during the 189 pound final. Then I climbed to the top spot of the awards podium to accept my first place medal. My hands and arms were still trembling with exhaustion and I could barely hold the medal as I gathered my wits and disappeared into the locker room. Sweat was running into my fresh mat burns, which stung painfully. I washed them out with soap and water and then applied antiseptic ointment from the tube that I had stashed in a pocket. As I treated my wounds I did some math. There were thirty-two districts in New Jersey. Each would send three wrestlers per weight class to one of eight region tournaments. That meant that I had already clinched a spot in the top ninety-six in the state. Since I had won my district it was fair to consider myself among the top thirty-two, I decided. When I knew there was nobody else in there I pumped my fist in excitement. “Yeah!” I shouted at the rows of steel lockers. Then I calmed down, remembered the article that Brad had mailed, and quietly returned to the gym.

I got out there just in time to join my teammates in cheering for Robert Mendez. He ended up winning easily in his finals match with a second period pin. That meant that Chapel Forge Township boasted four district champions. We received even more gratification when it was announced that we had won the team championship.

When the last match was over and the gym began to clear out I finally allowed myself to think about Judy. She had definitely been there, I was sure of that. I looked at the knot of Chapel Forge fans working their way towards the door and didn’t see her. Just when I had decided that she must have already left I felt that familiar tug at my sleeve.

“Congratulations champ!” It was Judy, acting as if nothing had ever gone wrong between us. She put both arms around me and gave me a quick squeeze. Nothing had ever felt so warm.

“Hi! Thanks!” I said. “I saw you come in but it was too late for me to come over.”

“You must be so proud of yourself. I know I am.”

“I barely won my matches today so I feel more lucky than proud.”

“I really need to get going. I was wondering if you needed a ride home,” she asked.

That was a surprise. “Yeah, sure. I’ll have to clear it with the coach. Can you wait like one minute?”

She could. I scurried across the gym to where Coach Miles was being interviewed for the county newspaper. Rather than wait for him to finish I asked Nick to relay the message. I was out of breath after I hurried back to where I had left her. We exited after I put my sneakers on. I considered holding her by the arm but I still wasn’t sure what she wanted from me and thought it better not to risk it.

We walked over to Judy’s car, which turned out to be a sensible Ford Focus. After she unlocked the passenger door I slid in, keeping my gym bag on my lap.

“I know this is weird, but I really wanted to talk,” Judy finally said when we were on our way.

“I’m not complaining,” I answered.

“Ben, that valentine you gave me was the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me,” she began.

“Good, I meant it to be.”

“Not that I understand what you wrote.”

I laughed. “You’d have to listen to that Cars album to get it, I guess.”

“Hmm,” she said. I saw her filing that bit of information away. She was silent but I could tell she was struggling with something that she wanted to say. Finally she just blurted it out. “Ben, I really like you a lot and I don’t really know what to do about it. You’re all I think about.”

“Me?” I asked. Once again she had surprised me. I couldn’t think of anything to say so I tried to be funny. “Now you like me. Now that I’m a district champ.”

She laughed. “Nope. It’s just you, but I do like watching you wrestle.”

“Say, do you want to hang out at my place for a while when we get there? We could stop off for something to eat if you want.”

“I’m going to be completely honest with you so you can understand my problems. But nothing changes what I just said, okay? I mean it. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“Alright, lay it on me.”

“Well,” she said, speaking deliberately, “The first problem is Craig. He’s the guy from Rutgers that my dad told you about.”

“Oh, your boyfriend. The college guy.”

“Yeah, my dad. He and Craig’s father fixed us up about a year ago. I wasn’t sure if was I happy about it at the time or not. How could I know what it’s supposed to be like?” she continued. “But now it’s different, since I’ve met you. I know what it means, you know...” Her voice trailed off, but I thought I did know what she meant. “And I don’t know how to get out of it,” she finished. What she had told me a few weeks ago was right. It did sound like an arranged marriage.

“Judy, what you do isn’t my business. But why don’t you tell this guy ‘Thanks but no thanks’ or ‘Nice knowing you’ or whatever? Take your pick.”

“For one thing, my dad would have a cow.” She paused, but only momentarily. She had come this far and I knew she would tell me everything if there were time. We were only a few minutes away from my condo. “And you just don’t know Craig. He’s really possessive, and jealous. He and my dad really gave me a hard time because you were over that night. See, my parents don’t understand what a great guy you are. All they see is a dumb jock. I’m sorry for being so honest but I just want you to know the truth.” She paused and then added “To be honest, I felt that way too until I got to know you.”

They were victims of the high school pecking order too. So it was true. Nobody was above it. And hadn’t I already decided that Mr. Voorst was a nerd? I was doing it too.

“Did you know that they came to see your match the next night? They wanted to see what you’re all about.”

“I saw them!” I exclaimed. “I couldn’t figure it out but I did see them!”

“Okay, that’s problem number one. Dad and Craig,” she said. “Here’s problem number two. I don’t know what you’ve got going on with that girl at the party but I was pretty upset when I saw you sitting in her lap that night.”

“Actually, it was the other way around. She was sitting in my lap,” I corrected. “That’s the only time I ever said two words to her except for once when I saw her at school. We were just clowning around playing quarters. After you left I went back to tell her goodbye and she was sucking face with some other guy. There’s nothing between her and me. I don’t think she even knew who I was.”

Judy said nothing. It must have hurt her badly to make her blast me the way she had that night and she apparently still had some bad feelings about it. “Judy, it isn’t like I was cheating on you or anything. Just the night before you and your dad told me to buzz off. Don’t you remember that?”

At that point we had reached Tanglewood. Judy pulled into an empty space and shut off the engine. “Do you want to come in?”

“I can’t,” she said sadly. “Okay, here’s problem number three. I have to talk fast now because I’m late.” She stopped and took a breath. “I don’t really know how to be a girlfriend, especially to somebody like you. I never really had a boyfriend before,” she admitted. Had she told me that before? Maybe I had just assumed it.

“What about the college guy?” I asked. If she refused to refer to Carrie McCracken by name I would do the same with her boyfriend. “You’ve had plenty of practice with him, haven’t you?”

“Not really. He’s so, so bossy, I don’t really have a chance to do anything but agree and follow along.”

“What did you mean by ‘somebody like me’?”

“Well, you’re handsome and popular, and part of the cool crowd, and all,” she said. “I know who I am and I like myself but I know my place, and yours too. If anybody saw us together they’d be shocked. I guess I’m changing the subject a little.”

“You’ve got it all wrong,” I said. “I’d be proud to have you with me. And your crowd would be just as shocked.” I put my hand on her shoulder. “I feel the same way about you that you said you do about me. It’s just the same.”

When she looked over at me I remembered that she cried easily. Part of it was probably relief after finally getting all of this off her chest. I slid over to her and put my arm around her. “Judy, don’t cry. We can solve these things together, okay?’

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “You must think I’m a basket case.”

“Yeah, but you’re my basket case.”

“I really have to get going. I’m sorry.”

“Got a date, huh? Are you sure you have to go?”

“I’m sure.”

“Can we get together tomorrow?” I asked. “I don’t want to wait until Monday to see you again.”

She brightened when I said that. “Maybe we could. Should I call you?”

“I probably shouldn’t call you, from what you’ve told me,” I said.

“Okay,” she said as she started the engine. “That would be really nice.”

“It’s a date. Am I allowed to call it that?”

“Yes, silly,” she replied. “And Ben? You were great tonight, I was proud of you.”

“Thanks Judy.” As she drove off to meet Craig, I thought a lot about how much it meant to me to hear her say that.

Chapter 11

Sunday turned out to be a lot warmer than it had been in weeks. It was mild enough that I was able to get my daily run in as soon as I woke up. That worked out well because I wanted to keep the day clear just in case Judy had some time for me.

I had just come back inside when Judy called. It was only about nine o’clock, much earlier than I had expected. “Ben? This is Judy,” she said when I answered.

“Hi. Everything okay?” I asked.

“Yup, how about you?”

“Just came back from my run.” An awkward silence followed. “Do you want to do something today?” I asked nervously. Things could have changed since the previous night. I knew she’d been out with her boyfriend.

“I’d like that.”

“Well, you’re going to think I’m crazy, but it’s kind of nice outside.”

“Yeah, and?”

“I was thinking that we could drive down to Ocean City for a few hours.” I’d spent a lot of time there right after moving north but hadn’t been there since the summer ended.

“Hmm, it isn’t that warm is it?”

“We could do something else.”

“It would be nice to be outside, and to get away,” she conceded.

“Really?” I asked. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. If we get too cold we can go inside someplace.”

We agreed that the sooner we left the better. I offered to pick her up but I knew what the answer to that would be. “No, I’ll come there,” she said immediately. It was no more than fifteen minutes before she arrived.

I insisted on driving so we climbed into my Cavalier and headed down the Atlantic City Expressway towards the shore. “This is going to be fun,” I said. “Like you were saying, it’ll be nice to breathe some air even if it’s cold.”

“I said that?”

“Well, sort of.”

“I lied to my parents. I told them I was going to the mall with Karen.”

“I guess I’m making your life more complicated.”

“It isn’t your fault. And I’m doing the same thing to yours.”

“How did your date last night go?”

“Oh, the usual. We didn’t do much because it was so late. Craig just wanted to go see a movie.”

“What did you want to do?”

“That was fine with me. Why are we talking about this?”

“So why don’t your parents like me? Wasn’t I well-behaved that night at your house? Was it the two black eyes?”

“No, I don’t think it was that. They have a lot of pre-conceived notions about guys like you.”

“Guys like me? That’s not the first time you’ve said that.”

“Ben, I know you’re different, but I’m talking about super-jock kind of guys.”

“Whatever that is. How do you know they’re all not different? It sounds to me like you feel the same way your parents do.”

“No. Didn’t I just say that you’re different?”

“Did your parents come right out and say what they don’t like about me?”

“They just went on and on about how guys like you usually end up after they’re done with high school sports. Bad jobs, bad marriages, stuff like that. ‘People like that will be hoping to work for people like you in ten years,’ my dad said.”

“And how do they know all this?”

“I don’t know. I’m sure they’re just being stubborn.”

Stubborn wasn’t the word for it, I thought to myself. “Do you ever stick up for me or do you just agree with them that I’m a future wife-beater?”

“You know how I feel about you. I told you last night. I can’t change what they think. What am I supposed to do?”

“You know I’m on your side, right?”

She did, and said so. By then we were driving through Somers Point, the last town on the mainland. Moments later we crossed over onto the barrier island and into Ocean City. When we reached the boardwalk after parking the car we felt the sting of the cold, salty wind that whipped off the ocean and sliced through our clothing. I wondered how long we would last.

Despite the cold there were many more people there than I expected. A few were riding bikes up and down the boardwalk. There were people of all ages, especially families with small children. Even on the beach, where the winds were especially strong, there were people walking and collecting shells.

As we walked I thought a lot about what Judy’s parents had said about me. I felt differently than Judy and especially her parents did about what happened after high school. My dad had once told me in his own way that the distinctions between the different social groups faded fast as people aged. Sure, it would always be there, but it wouldn’t matter much. In many cases, the happy couples we were seeing that day at the beach might be made up of people who wouldn’t have had anything to do with each other in high school.

Then again, maybe I was wrong. Judy’s parents had more life experience than I did and they still believed in the stereotypes.

We had a great day together without talking about any of the difficulties of our relationship. First we walked on the beach. When it got too cold there we took refuge on the boardwalk. When we finally came across a shop that was open Judy wanted to duck inside to look around. I stayed outside and looked at the ocean.

I was watching a toddler who had broken away from his parents to chase a seagull when suddenly Judy was back at my side. Without saying anything she wrapped an arm around my waist and leaned her head on my shoulder. “There’s Atlantic City. Can you see it?” she asked. She was pointing north up the coast to a hazy cluster of light-colored buildings along the surf.

“I didn’t know it was so close. I’d like to see it sometime.”

“We could drive through on the way home. It’s better at night with all the lights but it’s still pretty neat during the day. We could even have a late lunch there. I know you don’t get hungry, but I am,” she teased.

“That’s a good idea,” I agreed. “I get hungry too.” It was too cold to be outside anymore anyway and the temperature had already started to drop. Judy navigated and I drove. We passed through the beach towns of Longport, Margate and Ventnor on a road that never strayed more than a hundred yards from the ocean, and then suddenly we were in Atlantic City. I was surprised at the contrast between the glitzy towers I could see ahead and the grungy neighborhoods we were passing through.

“All the casinos have their own garages if you want to stop. Parking is really easy,” Judy said.

We passed what looked to be a sports arena. It looked grimy and old next to the shining hotels that surrounded it. Even so, it had a classic, stoic look that I found irresistible. “That must be where the states are held!” I said excitedly. It had slipped my mind completely that the states would be here in Atlantic City.

“That’s Boardwalk Hall. It’s where the Miss America Pageant is held every year. Maybe wrestling is there too.”

I thought about suggesting that we try to get into Boardwalk Hall to look around but decided against it. If I wrestled well I’d see the inside soon enough. We ended up going into Caesar’s Palace, one of the most glamorous of the casinos. Judy had raved about the interior and it was even more spectacular than she had said. It was breathtaking. The main lobby was filled with fountains, sculptures and a ceiling lit in blue to resemble a twilight sky. Everywhere I turned there were Roman columns. Somebody spent a lot of money on this place, I thought. Of course, they probably made it back in the first few days.

We ate at the Gladiator Grill and then wandered around the casino. When I saw that the casinos, hotels, and Boardwalk Hall, fronted right up on a boardwalk I insisted on walking it.

At three o’clock I sensed that we had both had enough. “Maybe we better start thinking about going home,” I said.

“I was thinking that too. My parents will worry if I’m at the mall too long,” she said sarcastically.

After we were on the Expressway heading for home, Judy made a remark that scared me. “You never seem to have any parents wondering where you are, do you Ben?”

Twenty minutes later we were back at my condo. Before she had a chance to get out of my car I put my hand gently on her shoulder. “Thanks for a great day. I know you’re in a tough spot, okay?” I pulled her close and gave her a hug.

When she pulled away from me she had tears in her eyes. “Thank you,” she said quietly before she climbed out of my car and into hers. I didn’t even watch as she drove off.

Chapter 12

The next day we started what would be the final two weeks of wrestling practice. We would practice that week and then compete at the region tournament over the weekend. Those of us who managed to place in the top three would return the following week to prepare for the final weekend of competition at the state tournament. Because there was so much at stake I expected practices to become more intense.

Judy and I spent more time together in school than we ever had before. We caught up with each other between classes at our lockers and sometimes before and after school. At lunch I sat with Judy and her friends again. Our closest friends noticed the change. In the wrestling room, Reggie McKenzie made sure everybody knew how inseparable Judy and I were becoming.

On Wednesday the seeding for the region tournament was released. Again, I was disappointed. Despite winning the district tournament I was seeded only third. There was one piece of good news for me. Donovan Jones, the kid from Redlands who had dominated me, changed his mind about dropping down to 171 for post-season competition after some difficult weeks holding the weight. He moved back up to his original weight class and was now seeded first in the region in the 189-pound weight class.

Coach Miles could tell I was miffed about my low seed and told me to stop thinking about it. “Don’t look for something to be upset about,” he advised me. He was right, I knew. There were more important things to worry about. The second seed, Andy Makris from Elmer, had only lost twice all season long. More importantly, he was a senior who had placed in regions the year before. Coach Miles told me that he was quick and that he excelled on his feet. “But I don’t think he’s as good as his record,” he said. “He wrestles in a weak conference and there was nobody any good in his district last week.”

If I got past Makris I would most likely have Ken Brown to deal with again. In three matches I hadn’t even come close to beating him. Before I would allow myself to think about Brown, though, I would have to earn the right to face him. That meant winning matches against some tough wrestlers.

The region tournament was to be held in Cape May, the southernmost point in New Jersey. The distance to Cape May didn’t bother me except when I thought about how badly I wanted Judy to come see me wrestle. On Wednesday I brought this up with her and apparently she had already given it some thought.

“You won’t have a match on Thursday, right?” she asked.

“How’d you know that?”

“Simple. Four districts feed into this region, so there are twelve guys per weight class. The way those bracket sheets work, it makes sense that only eight of them wrestle the first night. I figured that the top four get a pass.”

“You know it better than I do.”

“Friday night is tough for me,” she continued. I knew why. Craig, her Rutgers boyfriend, never seemed to want to miss a Friday night with her. Judy, Craig and I certainly had a strange arrangement, even if Craig didn’t know anything about it. I didn’t even mention Saturday.

“Funny that I’m so nervous when I don’t even have a match tonight,” I told Judy at lunch time on Thursday, the day the tournament began.

Deborah, one of Judy’s friends that I didn’t know very well, apparently didn’t want to hear it. “What’s there to be nervous about, anyway? You roll around on the floor. What could go wrong?” Some things never change, I thought to myself.

“I can understand it,” Judy said. “This is regions, and it starts tonight whether you have a match or not.”

“You’ll be fine Ben,” Karen chimed in. “One big flex of those biceps before the match starts, that’s all you need to do!”

“No flexing!” commanded Judy, and we all laughed.

Judy surprised me after school in the gym lobby when we were leaving for Cape May. “Good luck,” she said. “Don’t be so nervous.” Just before she pushed the door open on her way out she turned around and smiled at me, giving me a thumbs-up. I took quite a bit of razzing on the bus over this. Every few minutes somebody would call my name and give me a big toothy smile and thumbs-up. I enjoyed every minute of it.

Opening night at the regions was much more bearable than the first night of districts had been thanks to the sweats and jump rope I’d remembered to bring. Every so often when nobody on our team was wrestling I’d find some space and work up a sweat with the rope. Unfortunately, all four of our guys who had preliminary matches were defeated, ending their seasons. The bus ride home was somber because the season had ended abruptly for them.

It was after ten o’clock when I finally got home. I immediately noticed that the red light on my answering machine was flashing. This had happened only once before, in large part because I purposely kept my phone number secret. My first reaction was panic. There were three different groups of people that I feared might be looking for me. The police, if they were still working on the arson-murder case. Friends of whoever was in that house, especially if they made the connection through my father. Even Brad’s parents, who had lost track of me when I was their responsibility, might be trying to track me down. I had plenty of good reason to worry about who that message was from.

It turned out that the message was from Judy, who had called just twenty or so minutes before I had gotten home. She was upset and sounded as if she’d been crying as she told me that she really needed to talk with me. She said that she would try to call later. With nothing to do but wait for another call, I spent a few minutes leafing through my North Carolina high school yearbook while nursing a glass of water at the kitchen table. Before I got up I couldn’t stop myself from re-reading the article that Brad had sent.

At eleven o’clock I still hadn’t heard from her. I was worn out and I knew that I should get a good night’s sleep because I’d be wrestling the next night. I didn’t really expect to be receiving a call at that point because it was so late. I don’t think more than a minute passed after I turned out the lights before I was asleep. Just before drifting off I remembered that I’d left my yearbook in the kitchen. So far I had been vigilant about keeping it hidden away. Too tired to get up, I made a mental note to put it all away first thing in the morning.

When the ringing phone woke me up it took me a couple of seconds to remember who and where I was, as often happened. As I snatched the phone I looked at the clock. It was 2:18.

“Hello,” I croaked into the phone.

I already knew it had to be Judy. “Ben?” she asked. I could tell just by the single syllable that she was upset. It sounded much like the phone message she’d left earlier.

“Judy! Where are you?”

“I’m by WaWa,” she said, her voice wavering. “Can I please come over?”

“Of course! Do you want me to come get you?”

“No, I have my car. I’ll be there in five minutes.”

I sprang out of bed as soon as I hung up. Obviously I had no idea what had happened. Had she been suffering for five hours? That’s how long it had been since she left the message. I pulled a pair of sweatpants on over my boxer shorts and grabbed my Wolf Pack baseball cap on the way to the front door to hide my bed-head. I considered going outside to wait but I’d forgotten to put anything on my feet. Instead, I pressed my face against the window.

She appeared two minutes after I began watching for her. She was fully dressed, in jeans and sneakers, and was wearing the yellow down-filled jacket. It looked to me like she hadn’t gone to bed yet. Her eyes were red and puffy. Around her neck was a set of headphones. Somehow the sight of Judy Voorst wearing these was incongruous to me.

I pushed the door open and pulled her inside. She began to sob. “We’ll fix whatever’s wrong,” I told her, not knowing what else to say. I held her for a few minutes of silence.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt? What happened?”

She continued to cry but talked right through it. “I had a terrible fight with my parents. Come on, let’s sit down,” she said as she pulled me into the living room. “I’m so tired. I’m really cold too. I’ve been in my car for hours.”

“Why didn’t you call me sooner?”

“Can I sleep here for a little while?” she asked innocently.

“Of course, but don’t you want to go home? Do your parents know where you are? Should we call them?”

“No. When I left I told them not to wait up, that I was going to Karen’s. They won’t worry. They trust me. At least, they did. I’ve been lying to them a lot lately.”

“Look, let me get you something better for sleeping in. I’ve got tons of sweats, how about that?”

“Are you sure? I feel like I’m imposing. Well, I am imposing.”

“The only thing you did wrong was not coming here sooner. You know I’m here for you.” I left, and brought back a thick set of blue cotton sweat pants and sweatshirt. “You can change in there,” I said, gesturing towards the bathroom.

“Is anybody here?” she asked as she took her jacket off.

“No. My father’s out of town again.” I knew that my lies were wearing thin but that was a problem for another day. Taking the sweats, she disappeared down the hall. I followed the headphone cord into her jacket pocket and was astonished to find Eva Cassidy. She’d remembered!

“These feel great, thanks,” she said when she returned with a neatly folded pair of jeans and sweater.

“Are you hungry or anything?”

“I could use a glass of water. I’ll get it myself.”

“Can you get me one too?” I asked, hoping I wasn’t drinking my way into a weigh-in problem at the tournament the next day. I found a blanket while she was in the kitchen getting our drinks, which took longer than I expected. “Are you okay in there?”

“Yeah, I’m coming,” she yelled back. I heard a thump and some rustling before she appeared with the water. “I couldn’t find the glasses at first.”

When she was back we huddled under the blanket, sitting on the couch. It was uncomfortable because we were both exhausted and had a hard time getting into a restful position. Even the light was bothering our eyes. It was now fifteen minutes before three o’clock.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” I asked. “It’s okay if you don’t want to.”

“Ben, you come up with some good ones sometimes,” she said. “I’ve been driving around for three hours wishing I could be talking with you about it.” She tried again to get comfortable. Slowly, each of us was moving to a more horizontal position. Both of us were tired and our bodies wanted to sleep.

“Hey Ben, I have an idea, but don’t get mad, okay?”

“Okay.”

“You were in bed, right?”

“Yeah,” I said slowly.

“Let’s go lay in your bed to talk. We’re both so tired. That’s the only place we’ll be comfortable.”

“Warmer, too. Are you sure it’s okay?”

“I can’t believe what a crazy night this is. We may as well be comfortable. I haven’t even gone to sleep yet. And you have a very important match tomorrow. Tonight, I mean.”

This was indeed turning into one of the most bizarre nights I’d ever had. We turned off the lights and padded into my bedroom. It felt magical to crawl under the covers in the dark next to her. We were both feeling so self-conscious about it that there were two feet of empty mattress between us.

“So what happened?” I asked.

“It all started when Craig called. He wanted to know what I wanted to do this weekend.” She paused for a moment. “There’s no way I can leave you out of it,” she warned.

“Okay.”

“Well,” she continued. “I had already decided that I want to see your matches this weekend. There are only a few more and I don’t want to miss them. So I just came right out and told him that. I even invited him to come, but I knew he wouldn’t.”

“He didn’t take it well, right?”

“No. He was really mad. He must have known that I—” She stopped in mid-sentence.

“You what?”

“I don’t like dragging you into this Ben. I’m sorry,” she said. “I was about to say that he must have figured out that I was, you know, interested in somebody else.”

“Well, he probably knows it’s the wrestling guy, then,” I said. “I’m sure your dad told him about me.”

“He gets jealous real easily. If I talk at all with anybody when we’re together he gets really bitter. It gets pretty gross sometimes. I hate it.”

“Did it get nasty on the phone?”

“Very. I don’t take it very well when he gets mad, and I was upset, but I didn’t give in this time no matter how hard he pushed.”

“After I got off the phone,” she said, “My mom could tell something was wrong. You have to remember, my parents are just wild about Craig. They don’t see the sides of him that I see. To them, he’s a mature college man who is going places, blah blah blah. I thought the same thing too, at first. Now I realize that those things might be true but he’s got some problems too. I’m really tired of being around him. He’s so jealous all the time, and he wants to control me. I think they’re worried that I’ll become an old maid or something. I’ve never even had a boyfriend except for Craig.”

“That’s silly, you’re only in high school,” I said.

“And Ben?”

“Yeah?”

“This is hard for me to say. Until I met you I didn’t know what it could be like. How could I know that it wasn’t supposed to be that way? Do you know what I mean? Like, him always being so nasty, bossing me around. I know it sounds stupid but how was I supposed to know that it wasn’t that way in every relationship?” She paused. ”I’m not saying I’m your girlfriend,” she said almost apologetically, “but I sort of am, right?”

“I’d like you to be.”

“Me too. So anyway, now Craig’s mad at me, and I don’t know what he’ll do. My parents start trying to figure out what happened because they feel like they’ve got a stake in this too. I just stopped trying to fudge everything and told them the whole truth. Well, not the whole truth, I guess. I just told them I was going to watch you wrestle this weekend.”

“I’m sure they were thrilled at that.”

“I’m so sorry. It’s so unfair. They just don’t like you or anything about you. I really stuck up for you this time. I told them how fantastic you are and that they’d see it if they’d give you a chance. Anyway, that round ended at about nine o’clock. That’s when I called you.”

“I wasn’t even home from the tournament yet,” I reflected.

“The fight wasn’t over yet either. About an hour later my dad came up to my room and started grilling me about it all over again. He seemed more concerned that he would have to face Craig’s dad at work after all this. How could that be so much more important than how I feel? It just went on and on. Eventually it turned to the same old garbage about what a great guy Craig is. Compared to you, a future gas pump attendant. I got mad and I was a little fresh in what I said to him. Later I told them I was going out and I left before they could answer. I drove around in my car until I called you.”

“Won’t they be worried? I think you should let them know you’re okay,” I said. Besides their worrying, I had other concerns. What if they called the police and gave them my name? Everything could unravel quickly if the police had any reason to look into my background. I couldn’t believe I was thinking like a criminal but I had no choice. I was one, after all.

“I called around midnight. They were still awake,” she said. “I told them that I was safe and that I wanted them to leave me alone for the rest of the night. I’m sure it hurt them for me to say that, but they hurt me too.”

“So where were you all this time? Why didn’t you come over earlier?”

“I was worried about you getting your rest for tomorrow. But then I just got too cold and tired.”

I’m sorry I caused all this,” I said.

“You didn’t cause it. Give me a break, will you?” I heard her trying not to laugh. “There’s so much going on inside me, I can’t keep track of it all. So many different levels of problems. Do you know what I mean?” she asked.

“I took your advice and bought some Eva Cassidy,” she went on without waiting for an answer. “That’s what I’ve been listening to all night. I can see why you like her music so much. I listened to ‘Over the Rainbow’ about fifty times.”

“I told she was great.”

“I’ve heard that song a billion times but it never reached me before. And you know what? It’s exactly how I feel tonight. It’s all about running away from troubles, like I wish I could do.”

“I never really understood the words. Look Judy, we’ll get through this, somehow,” I said. “We’ll just stick together. I have real problems too. You don’t even know.”

“That’s hard to believe. Your life seems so straightforward. In a good way, I mean.” I wished I could see her face. That might have helped me know what she was feeling.

By then it was after four o’clock. “You need to try to sleep,” she said. “Tonight is important for you.”

We both managed to get a couple of hours of sleep in. At six-thirty we got up and showered. After I emerged from the shower Judy told me she’d called her mom and told her that she would see her after school and not to worry. She didn’t like putting her dirty clothes back on for school but liked my idea of wearing my sweats to school even less. We were both tired and she looked a little more rumpled than usual but we got to school on time and tried to get back to our school day routines. Things had changed though, and in some ways our routines would never be the same.

Chapter 13

I was dragging during the day on Friday after everything that had happened overnight. Judy looked worse than I did but that was understandable. I had slept for three hours while she was driving around. Since my weight was okay in the morning I was free to join Judy and her friends at lunch. I got the impression that they knew very little about what had happened to Judy the night before but they had to know that something had.

We avoided talking about whether or not she would be at the tournament that night until she eventually brought it up. It was a long ride to Cape May even under the best of circumstances. I told her that I would understand if she couldn’t make it. Coach Miles had reserved some rooms in a local motel for that night and that’s where I’d be staying rather than driving back and forth. It wouldn’t be fair for me to expect Judy to do all that driving when I wouldn’t be doing it myself.

“Right now I’m planning to come,” she told me. “My parents are being unreasonable about you but they trust me. I don’t think they’d ever come right out and say I can’t go.”

This was probably the first trouble she’d ever had with her parents and it was all over me. What made it worse was that she knew nothing about me and she didn’t even know that. To her I was a living lie.

That night my opponent in the quarterfinals would be the eleventh seed, Ramesh Chakrabarty of Absecon High School. He had survived the opening round by upsetting the sixth seed the night before. The winners in this round could immediately begin resting up for the semifinals in the morning. The losers, as in most of these tournaments, were not so lucky. They would have to hang around to wrestle a consolation bracket match later that night and then wrestle early and often the next day. That was exactly what I didn’t need after getting so little sleep the night before.

“He’s strong as an ox,” Coach Miles told me about Chakrabarty. “I’ve never seen him wrestle but I asked around. Not real good on technique but he can be immovable if he wants to be. I don’t know anything, but I know one thing. He’ll just come out and grab you.” I nodded silently at this information. I wasn’t too concerned about what Coach told me. All I had to do was stay out of any dangerous positions in which Chakrabarty could apply some muscle and take me out. It was nothing I hadn’t seen before.

The huge Cape May gym was filling up fast as the quarterfinal matches began but somehow I caught sight of Judy while I was stretching during the 152-pound matches. It looked like she had brought Karen with her but I couldn’t be sure. I watched them work their way over to the small group of Chapel Forge parents and fans. That was better, I thought, than sitting off by themselves like they usually did.

It was too late to go see Judy before my match. I could see that she and Karen were both looking for me from their seats. They would never find me on the warm-up mats where I was hunched over trying to loosen my hamstrings. I could have stood up and waved my arms to get their attention but it was too close to wrestling time for anything like that. Very soon my match would be called on deck and it was time to think about wrestling.

As soon as my match was called I met Coach Miles at the mat. As had become my custom, I made sure to be at the center of the mat first. When the whistle blew I immediately began circling. So did Chakrabarty. I took four shots at his legs in the opening minute. Each time I took a leg he sprawled and peeled me off. I guessed that he had won a lot of matches by wrestling defensively on his feet, waiting for his opponent to shoot, then sprawling and coming around behind for a takedown.

A takedown would be great but I was worried about getting trapped down low, giving him a chance to work me over. I tried a single leg but instead of driving directly into him I played it safe by sweeping past on the side. It didn’t work at all and the first period ended in a scoreless tie.

Chakrabarty chose the bottom position for the second period. Now was when I would find out exactly what Coach Miles had meant when he described my opponent as an immovable object. When the period began he surprised me by reaching back for my head. He was violating a cardinal rule of wrestling—never reach back. He was so strong that it usually worked for him and if so, this time was no exception. His grip was incredibly strong and I was unable to stay out of it. He successfully threw in a headlock and pulled me forward. Although I avoided giving up back points he was awarded two points for a reversal. I managed to slither out of bounds without any further damage.

“Get your head in the match, Ben!” Coach Miles yelled when we had gone out of bounds. It was the first time he’d ever said anything like that to me but I knew it was for my own good. I should have seen the headlock coming and found a way to stay out of it.

A minute ticked away in the second period, which meant that the match was half over. I realized that I might be in trouble, trailing 2-0, and I began to panic. Miles sensed my unease, like a good coach could, and tried to calm me down. “You’ve got three minutes, Ben, take your time,” he yelled.

When we restarted I hit a switch, sitting and pivoting to my right and exerting heavy pressure on his arm until I was able to swing behind him for two points to tie the score. I used a basic ankle ride to drive him off his base and onto his stomach and then quickly moved up.

My plan was to try a half nelson on one side and an arm bar on the other and I wanted to move quickly before he had a chance to work back to his base. I inserted the half nelson with my left arm. When I reached for his right arm to bar it up he moved it away, toward his head, and off the mat. It was a perfect opening for a half nelson on that side. Unfortunately, I sank the half nelson on the right side without removing the one I’d already applied on the left side. I realized my mistake even before I heard the whistle. Two half nelsons equal a full nelson, an illegal move. As the referee signaled for one penalty point to be awarded to Chakrabarty I smacked myself in the head with both hands.

“Ben! Wake up out there!” Miles shouted at me, looking as angry as I’d ever seen him. I nodded. What was the matter with me? But I knew.

After the penalty was assessed I trailed 3-2. This guy doesn’t know anything, I thought. How can he be beating me? When the match resumed I broke him down with the ankle ride again. Nervous about the half nelsons, I slipped in another arm bar. When he began to post on the other arm to push his way off his stomach I swooped in with my other arm and sank an arm bar on the other side too. I now had a double arm bar in with almost half a minute left in the period. It was a great opportunity to score and at the same time inflict some punishment on Chakrabarty.

The way I’d done so many times before, I came out to the side and began walking to his head, taking care to keep the arm bars in tight. When I stepped over his head it had the effect of driving him to his back. As the referee counted off my back points I wondered if Chakrabarty knew what was coming. What I was already doing to him was uncomfortable but what I was going to do next would be downright painful.

After I earned the three back points I sat further and harder, knowing that this was ratcheting up the pain. This was just what I needed, to try to take some of the starch and feistiness out of my opponent. I was sitting so hard that it was hard to believe that he wasn’t pinned, but I was unable to see what was happening behind me. I was leaning so far back that my own back was nearly on the mat. The period finally ended but not soon enough for Chakrabarty, with me having taken a 5-3 lead.

I chose to start the third period with both of us on our feet. Just as I had done in the opening period I took shot after shot but was unable to get in deep enough to score. Then I had an idea. I faked yet another shot and he instinctively began to fall forward into a defensive sprawl position. As he did I reached behind his neck and snapped him the rest of the way down to the mat. Instead of scooting behind I stayed on his side and quickly threw in a near side cradle. The referee awarded two points for my takedown as soon as the cradle was in place. “Stay there!” I heard Miles yelling. He meant that instead of working for the pin, which might allow Chakrabarty to break free, I should simply hold on tight until time ran out. That’s what I did. When it was all over I felt very fortunate to have won. As I came off the mat I gasped “That was the closest 7-3 match I’ve ever been in.”

Coach Miles laughed. “It may not have been a thing of beauty but you showed me something. You didn’t bring your A-game but you used your brain out there. That was smart wrestling.”

I shrugged. “I feel pretty lucky.”

“Just make sure you get your head on straight for tomorrow morning,” he advised.

Andy Makris was wrestling on the next mat over. I would face the winner of that match so I picked up all my gear and scrambled to the edge of that mat to watch as I cooled down.

Coach was right. Makris didn’t look like a guy with a record of 22-2. He was quick but didn’t seem to be exceptionally strong. His opponent didn’t look very talented and I thought a high seed like Makris should have had an easier time than he did. The final score was 4-0, with Makris scoring a late reversal to clinch the match and advance. I knew enough not to overlook anybody but I felt sure I could beat Makris.

After that match ended we didn’t have any guys wrestling until the consolation bracket started up later. Nick and I were the only ones left in the winner’s bracket. I finished putting my warm-ups on and headed over to see Judy. I knew how attached I was becoming to her by the feeling in my stomach.

She and Karen saw me when I reached the bottom of the bleachers near their section. As I climbed the steps to where they were sitting, members of the Chapel Forge crowd slapped me on the back and congratulated me on my victory.

“Way to go Ben!” several parents called to me when I was close enough. Karen, always the animated one, genuflected and growled like the Incredible Hulk. I laughed even though I wasn’t sure what she was trying to say. I squeezed in next to Judy and put my arm around her.

“Are you okay?” she asked. “Are you tired?”

“Now I am but I don’t wrestle again until the morning.”

“I meant when you were wrestling. You didn’t seem to be yourself out there and I saw the coach yelling at you.”

“Yeah. Maybe I was a little tired. I was a scatterbrain.”

She grimaced. “I knew it. It’s my fault. I tried not to bother you last night because you had the tournament but I couldn’t help myself.”

“I’m fine. I won the match no matter how bad I looked.” She put her head on my shoulder and leaned into me. Neither of us moved for a few minutes. I watched some pretty good wrestling but Judy had her eyes closed tight.

I felt bad that they had driven so far to see me wrestle and of course were facing a long drive home. If they were planning to come the next day they’d have that drive all over again. I wondered how her parents and Craig had been. It had probably been an ugly scene.

“Who do you wrestle next?” Judy asked, interrupting my thoughts.

“Andy Makris. He’s from Elmer, wherever that is.”

“Must be a farm boy. Peach grower. Is he good?” interjected Karen.

“They’re all good now,” I said truthfully. “It’ll be a tough match.”

“What time do you think it’ll be?” Judy asked.

“The morning session starts at nine o’clock,” I said. “There are two matches per weight class. I’d say between ten and ten-thirty.”

“We’ll be here,” Judy said. “We bought passes for the whole tournament tonight.”

“Really?” I asked.

“Really. I wouldn’t miss it.”

They left shortly after that, just as the consolation bracket matches started. We had a few guys wrestling so we ended up staying until the last match of the night, which happened to be a victory by Robert Mendez. Then we packed up and headed to our motel rooms. I couldn’t wait to get to bed.

Chapter 14

When I woke up the next morning I was surprised to find Mendez in bed with me! I knew that he’d been sharing the room next door with Coach Miles. I quickly guessed that Coach was snoring and it had kept Mendez awake.

As I lay quietly waiting for everyone else to wake up it hit me that I had already reached an elite level. There were seven other regions in New Jersey. That meant that there were only thirty-one other 171-pound wrestlers waking up and preparing to wrestle in the semifinals.

My thoughts turned to Andy Makris. From the little bit that I’d seen of his match the night before I thought I could muscle him. I’d run it by the guys later but I was pretty sure that’s how I was going to approach the match. On paper I would be the underdog because Makris was seeded higher and had a better record but I felt confident that I would win. The real problem was who probably awaited me in the finals if I did beat Makris. It would most likely be my familiar foe, Ken Brown. Three of my five losses had come against him. After eighteen minutes on the mat with him I still hadn’t figured him out.

As soon as everybody was up and showered we headed over to the high school. Nobody had any trouble at weigh-ins. That was the last time we would have to make weight all weekend, which was a relief. After that, since we had ninety minutes before the session would begin, we ate some of the breakfast food we had picked up at McDonalds on the way over.

Nick and I went out on the mats to roll around after we dressed. He rarely seemed nervous and today was no exception. I, on the other hand, had a severe case of nerves. After Nick left the mat I still felt tight so I spent five minutes in the corner with my jump rope before returning to the mat to stretch.

At five minutes before nine we were ordered to clear the mat so I retreated to the warm up area. I didn’t even look into the stands. I hoped very much that Judy was there but there were too many other things I needed to think about.

As they had done the night before, the tournament directors arranged for Nick’s and my matches to be held back to back on the same mat. I stood behind Coach Miles while Nick wrestled but I was too self-absorbed to do anything but watch. He didn’t need my help, anyway. By the end of the second period he was leading 8-0. In the third period he added another set of back points and won his way into the region finals with a 10-0 victory. I found myself in awe of him, wondering what it was like to make it to the region finals almost effortlessly. Then again, although it would be his fourth appearance in the region finals in as many years, he had yet to win one.

“Now you do it,” Nick said firmly as he came off the mat. He was hardly even out of breath. “I’ve wrestled Makris before. He’s good but you should beat him,” he said as he scooped up his stuff.

“I want you to overpower him, Ben,” Miles said. “I think you’ll see when you get out there that you’re a lot bigger than he is. He really should be at 160. Get it done.”

The extra instructions from my coach prevented me from getting onto the mat before Makris did. When I finally got out there he extended his hand and I shook it. The referee told us “Good luck, gentlemen,” and then blew the whistle to start the match.

For the first minute we took turns taking shots. At the one-minute mark I thought I had scored with a single leg but the referee waved it off when Makris managed to fall out of bounds.

When the match resumed he immediately lowered his level and tried to penetrate for a double-leg takedown. I avoided it easily, sprawling across his back. He stayed underneath rather than pull back. He had his arms around one of my legs, but only loosely because I had kicked back before he could tighten his grip. He should have backed out while he had the chance. I over-hooked his right arm with my left, and under-hooked his left arm with my right. After some struggle I was able to free my legs enough to plant my right foot firmly. Suddenly I had him right where I wanted him and he knew it. He tried to back out but it was too late. He couldn’t escape from my hooks.

Back in North Carolina we called the move a pancake. In New Jersey a pancake was something different but it didn’t matter what it was called. I pushed down with my left arm overhook while lifting his other shoulder with my right arm underhook at the same time. The power from my planted right leg was enough to flip him straight onto his back – like a pancake. The referee signaled two points for my takedown and dropped onto the mat to begin counting off my back points. I knew there was no need to bother. My hold was so perfect that I was about to end the match.

Ordinarily I would have switched from the hooks into a tighter pinning combination but I chose not to this time. I had control of both of his arms so he had only his neck to post on to avoid being pinned. When he tried to shift and roll away from me I went up on my toes, transferring all of my weight onto his chest. After a few more seconds of flopping by Makris I tightened everything up so that he was unable to move. Seconds later the referee slapped the mat and blew his whistle. I had pinned my opponent at 1:37 of the first period. With that I was in the region finals along with Nick. As I rose to my feet I heard Nick shouting “Yeah!” and clapping his hands in approval. Coach Miles would be coaching back-to-back matches that night in the finals. The funny thing was, I hoped that Ken Brown had won his semifinal match as well because out of nowhere I felt an odd confidence about another match with him.

After I cooled off it was time to go look for Judy. As I walked toward the Chapel Forge section of bleachers I scanned the seats for her. The elation of victory faded quickly when I realized that she was not there. As I had the night before, I wandered through the bleachers receiving congratulations, high fives and claps on the back. I pulled a bottle of warm Gatorade from my gym bag and downed the entire thing in one gulp as I thought about where Judy could be.

Our team didn’t fare very well that afternoon. As a matter of fact, after the next round of wrestle-backs Nick and I were the only ones left. We had both made the region finals and would get to states regardless of the outcome of our matches that night.

At about three o’clock I ran into Karen, who was bundled up like she’d just come from outside. That gave me a lift because I was sure that Judy must be nearby. “Nice job Ben. First period, too!” she said by way of greeting. Apparently she had just come from reading the bracket sheets that were posted on the walls in the lobby.

“Thanks Karen. I hardly knew what had happened and then it was over,” I said.

“Hey Ben, come out here for a second, alright?” she said. She guided me back out of the gym and into the lobby. I didn’t like going out there, especially right then. I was covered with a light sweat from jumping rope and the gust of cold air that blew through every time the doors opened made me uncomfortable.

“Look, Ben, you’ve got a big match tonight and I don’t want to upset you, okay?” she started. “The best thing you could do is to listen to what I have to tell you and then forget about it. It isn’t that big a deal but you’ll probably make it into one. Win your match. Then we can talk.”

“Where’s Judy?”

“She’ll be here later,” Karen said firmly. I waited for more information but there was none coming.

I was relieved. “That isn’t so bad.”

“I’m just going to come out and say it. Then we won’t talk about it until after your match. You’re going to win, by the way. I think you’ll pick up some early back points and he won’t know what hit him.” I had to give her credit. For a new fan of the sport she had certainly learned quickly about wrestling. I nodded and waited.

“Judy’s coming, but she’s coming with Craig.”

I felt like I’d been socked in the stomach. As far as I was concerned, coming with him was worse than not coming at all. Why would she do this to me?

I said nothing but Karen could see that I was angry. “Ben, don’t screw this up. There’s plenty of time to worry about it but do it after your match.”

I sighed. “It’s going to kill me when I see them come in together, though.”

“Then don’t look,” she snapped. “We can talk later, I promise. Just forget it for now. Please.”

“I’ll have to stay away from the bleachers. Can you tell them I’m concentrating or something?” She laughed and walked away.

As the consolation bracket matches were wrestled the gym began to fill up with fans that had come to see the finals. I kept my mind on my match and tried not to look in the direction of the bleachers.

I still had confidence that I would beat Brown but I had no idea where it was coming from. All afternoon I thought about the match and how best to approach it. He always seemed to rack points up on me in the first period. By the third period, as I remembered it, he had usually run out of gas. My plan was to stay out of trouble early and then attack late when he was tired.

The introduction of the finalists was done the same way it had been done at districts. I was glad the lights had been dimmed except for the ones shining on the mat. If Judy and Craig were out there at all I couldn’t see them if I tried. When my name and record were called I walked slowly to the center of the mat where Brown was waiting. This time I tried to look a little cockier than I had the previous week, and I walked slowly to make him wait for me. We shook hands and I wished him good luck. He probably didn’t know what I meant. Good sportsmanship wasn’t on my mind when I said it.

My decision to avoid the bleachers restricted me to the warm-up mat area for the most part. I had no interest in watching any of the finals anyway except for Nick’s and of course, mine. I spent most of the time pacing back and forth. The match, as I wanted to wrestle it, was unfolding in my mind.

At one point I weakened. During the 140-pound final I couldn’t stop from peering over into the seats where the Chapel Forge fans were. It was hard to see because the lights were still dim but I believed that I could pick out Judy, sitting next to a figure that I assumed was Craig. My body language must have given me away because the next thing I knew Karen had slipped under the rope barriers and was standing next to me near the warm-up mats. “Are you ready?” she asked. She was obviously there to turn my attention back to the match. Again I marveled at how quickly she had learned and understood the sport, not to mention how well she had come to know me.

“I’m ready now. I wish I didn’t have to wait.” I hesitated, and then asked what was really on my mind. “Are they up there?”

She twisted my body so that it faced the mat. “Ben, you know what you have to do. Now don’t make me come down here again!” We laughed, which snapped me out of my funk. Then she punched me on the arm and headed back to her seat.

When Nick’s match was announced I joined him and Coach Miles at the corner of the mat. Since my match was next we would be here until both of our matches were done. This was it. “Control the match Nick,” I said. “Nobody can beat you except yourself.”

I hoped he knew what I meant. As the season progressed he seemed to have been taking my advice, keeping things more basic than he was used to, and I thought it had made him a better wrestler.

In the opening period of the finals he reverted to his old form. At the whistle he grabbed his opponent, Tom Chen, in a tight body lock. Disaster struck when he tried to put Chen on his back. Chen was able to roll through and put Nick on his own back. For an agonizing few seconds time stopped as it appeared that Nick might be able to roll out of it but Chen skillfully pulled Nick back at the last moment. Nick should have known that anybody good enough to make it to the region finals wasn’t going to be body-locked so easily. He eventually got off his back and even escaped, but the damage was done. He trailed 5-1.

What Nick did next was even more inexplicable. He tried another body lock. The results were similar, with Chen rolling through it, except that this time Nick stayed off his back. Nick had learned at great expense that Chen knew how to defend against a body lock. The first period ended with Nick on the short end of a 7-1 score. I couldn’t remember seeing him behind in a match before, let alone by six points.

Although he was behind, a situation that was probably unfamiliar to him, Nick didn’t lose his composure. The problem was that Chen knew just what he had to do. For the remaining two periods he was able to fight Nick off, surrendering points only stubbornly. With a few seconds to go in the match Nick was still trailing 7-4. He used a tilt to put Chen on his back but there wasn’t enough time left for him to earn the three back points he needed to tie the match. After only two were awarded Nick had suffered his first loss of the season, against twenty-eight victories, by a score of 7-6. He was zero for four in region finals, one of the strangest records I’d ever seen.

I tore off my sweats after his match ended. As if I didn’t have enough on my mind, I felt angry with Nick for wrestling so stupidly and throwing away the title. Instead of consoling him I snapped on my headgear and pushed past him onto the mat, not even waiting to hear Coach’s last minute instructions. I already knew what I was going to do and I’d never been so anxious to get a match started.

The first period began almost exactly as I had planned and I successfully avoided giving up points at the start. I took a few shots, as did Brown. All I really wanted to do was get out of the period without falling too far behind. Near the end of the period Brown shot and grabbed my leg but I was able to sprawl hard enough to stay out of danger. He didn’t seem to be working for anything so I was able to come out to the side. There were only thirteen seconds left but I saw an opening that I had been getting better at exploiting all year long. With his head down and knees tucked in, Brown was vulnerable to a cradle the same way that Chakrabarty had been in the first round. I sank a near side cradle and was amazed that I was able to turn him onto his back before he knew what had happened. After the buzzer sounded I was surprised when two back points were awarded because I thought the period had ended before I had earned them. Brown’s coaches felt the same way, apparently, and protested in vain at the scoring table. So far my strategy had been wildly successful. Not only had I avoided giving up points, I had amassed a 4-0 lead.

That was exceptional but I wanted more. All those points were scored after he had gone on the offensive and taken a bad shot. I was anxious to score some on my own. For the second period I surprised everybody by choosing the top position. It was risky because it meant that he could count on starting both the second and third periods on bottom, from where he could score simply by escaping or reversing me. I did it because I wanted to show that I wasn’t afraid.

Prior to the match I had planned on sticking with my usual methods of breaking my opponent down to his stomach before working to turn him over. Going into the second period I decided to keep an open mind about my plans. Brown was able sit out but I managed to stop him in a sitting position, and there was my opportunity. I dropped my chest on his shoulders while underhooking both arms and stood up behind him, forcing him to support all of my weight. As I leaned onto him his head was forced closer and closer to his knees. When I was sure his head was down far enough I reached down to take his leg and then threw my other arm behind his neck. I was able to lock my hands to complete the far-side cradle and rock him onto his back all in one motion. For the second time in as many periods the referee began counting back points. I heard Nick and Coach shouting for me to stay there, which I already intended to do. Brown had shifted his back towards me so I knew I couldn’t pin him with the cradle but I was able to kill the rest of the period, a substantial amount of time. At that point I held a 7-0 lead. Am I dreaming? I asked myself. As confident as I had been going into the match, I was dumbfounded at how well things had gone.

Both of us were tired in the third period. I started in the top position after Brown chose the bottom. This time I was unable to ride him but that was partially because I knew there was no need to try. After a few seconds I decided to cut him loose. It would take less effort to wrestle on my feet.

Brown was desperate, trailing 7-1, but he was as tired as I was. He forced me to tie up and quickly tried a half-hearted headlock but I slipped it and we went out of bounds. Worried about the initiative that I’d lost, I decided to try some offense again. That didn’t work out well except for running some time off the clock. I got stuck underneath after attempting a single-leg takedown. I began to set up for a navy trip but he stopped me by leaning on my head and applying a three-quarter nelson. I knew my neck would hurt for days but that was for later. I stayed off my back but did surrender a takedown in the process. With just under a minute remaining my lead had been cut to four points.

I was running out of energy, even more so than my opponent was. I tried a few stand-ups just to keep moving but each time he easily forced me back onto my stomach. Brown, who had plenty of experience in big matches, seemed to have recovered his strength and was working furiously. When he sunk a half-nelson and I felt my body turning over I panicked. Hoping that time was about to run out I stuck my leg out perpendicular to my body, which prevented Brown from turning me over further in that direction, at least for the moment. He cleverly reversed his half nelson and pulled me onto my back from the other side.

The final buzzer sounded a few seconds later. He had picked three back points but it wasn’t enough. I had won the region title by a 7-6 score while avenging my three defeats to Brown. In the end I wasn’t very proud of how the match had gone, especially in the last minute. I had really only succeeded with two moves and then had to cling to a lead as time ran out. But as ugly as it had been it was the biggest win of my career. I usually restrained myself from showing emotion on the mat, but not that time. I pumped my fist through the air after the referee raised my hand in victory.

Like the previous week, the awards ceremonies took place between finals matches. After the 189 pound match I was awarded a gold medal and a poster of the bracket sheet, adorned with a Polaroid picture of a red-faced, disheveled Ben Petrovic taken immediately after the match. Finally I was able to escape to the locker room. After wearing my uniform and singlet for nearly twelve hours I was anxious to be in street clothes. I was also worried about missing Judy, though, and decided to worry about changing clothes later. After smearing some antiseptic on my mat burns I left the locker room and walked straight over to the Chapel Forge section. The 215-pound championship was underway but I really wasn’t interested.

Before I got there Karen bounded over. She nearly knocked me down when we came together on the floor. “I knew it! I called it didn’t I?” she yelled at me. “Way to go!”

“You did call it, didn’t you?” I conceded. I pulled her into the corner where we weren’t blocking anybody’s view of the match. By then Judy had ambled over and the guy that I was sure was Craig was about three feet behind trying hard to look disinterested. I suddenly realized that although he had become one of the most important people in my life this was the first time I’d ever laid eyes on him. He was a few inches taller than Judy but she was wearing loafers while he seemed to be wearing some type of cowboy boots. Other than his lack of height he looked like an ordinary guy, with dark hair combed straight back.

Judy seemed to lose her breath when she got close. “I’m so proud of you, Ben.”

“I’m glad you were here for it,” I said. She looked upset. There was more going on here than just the region finals.

By then Craig had caught up with us and he wasted no time in wrapping his arm around Judy’s waist. “Ben,” Judy said, voice quavering, “This is Craig.”

“Hi Craig, heard all about you,” I said, extending my hand. He took it and squeezed it as hard as he could.

“Congratulations,” he said blandly.

“Thanks. That guy’s beaten me three times this year,” I explained. “It’s embarrassing to end a match on my back but tonight I’ll take it.” After I said it I could see that he couldn’t have cared less, or at least that’s how he tried to look.

He looked like he was done with us already. He turned to Judy as if to signal to her that it was time to leave. Judy wasn’t quite ready and she spoke before he had a chance to. “Your burns are looking worse.” She reached up to the one next to my eye and pushed some ointment into it.

“What a sport this is,” Craig said derisively, in reference to my beat-up face. As much as I wanted to be with Judy I was already aware that I needed to be away from Craig as soon as possible. In the meantime, Judy looked more upset than ever. I looked at her helplessly. What should I do? I tried to ask with my expression.

“I’m really happy for you Ben,” she said. If I could just have thirty seconds alone with her I could have made things a little better. Craig was watching like a hawk, trying to prevent me from having the chance.

“Well, we better get going, Judy,” Craig said, clumsily working himself back into the conversation. He turned to me. “We have reservations at the Clipper.” His tone made it clear that to him, dinner at a fine restaurant was a much bigger deal than any wrestling match.

“Enjoy,” I said, knowing I could do nothing unless Judy empowered me. Without even waiting for his response I turned to Judy. “Will you walk over with me to get my bag?”

I knew Craig would be annoyed and I didn’t know how he might react but I didn’t care. I was a region champ. Why should it matter to me what he thought? I took her arm before she had a chance to turn me down and guided her away. Craig started moving too but Karen effortlessly slid over and blocked his path. By the time he could have gotten around her it would be too late. It had looked accidental but I knew Karen had done it on purpose. God bless her, I thought. Craig was too full of himself to follow two high school kids that had a head start.

“Judy, are you okay?”

We could feel Craig’s eyes boring holes in our backs. “I’m sorry for doing this to you. You deserve better.”

“How about if we just go back over there and tell him that you’re not going?” I asked angrily.

“Oh no, I’d never hear the end of it.”

“I guess I’ll just go home, then. We have to do something about this soon,” I said. “You can’t take much more of this. I can’t either. Nobody can. Judy, I’m serious, why don’t we just blow him off?”

She said nothing but I knew the answer. It was time to stop pressuring her to do something she felt she couldn’t do. Maybe I can see you tomorrow,” I said dejectedly. “I get the leftovers again.”

By then we were standing in the bleachers with Karen and Craig watching from the floor. The wrestling mats were being rolled up and carted away by Cape May High School wrestlers. It was time to go.

“Could we? I’d like that.”

We started walking down the bleachers toward the floor. “At least you’ll get a good meal out of it,” I said, trying to make the best of things. “I’ll bet it’s a nice restaurant. I wish I was going. I haven’t really eaten in days.”

She smiled at me with red eyes and I remembered her expression for the rest of the night. I wondered how Craig must feel, seeing how miserable she was. I’d never seen anybody be so insensitive. It was difficult for me to keep my mouth shut about it but I did. “Have a great dinner,” I said as they turned. They walked out through the gym doorway and were gone. Karen, who was turning out to be a really good friend for me, was still there, but I felt very alone.

Chapter 15

After Judy and Craig left Karen and I stared at the door. There was no reason to think Karen didn’t feel as badly as I did. After all, Karen cared about Judy too, and she had just watched her friend practically dragged out of the building.

“Need a ride home?” she asked me.

“Yeah, I do.” I cleared it with Coach and followed Karen out to her Volkswagen Beetle. We didn’t say much at first as Karen wound through the streets of Cape May towards the Garden State Parkway. I had so many questions about Judy but it took me a few minutes to decide whether or not it was okay to ask them.

“What’s the deal with those two, Karen? Why can’t Judy do something about it?”

“Didn’t she already tell you all about this? Mr. Voorst loves Craig. He works for Craig’s father or something like that.”

“So what. That doesn’t mean Judy is obligated to the guy.”

“I know. But Craig and her dad put so much pressure on her. She just doesn’t want to hurt anybody so she goes along with it.”

“That’s way too much to ask of her. It’s her life. Look what it’s doing to her.”

“I know. And I’ve known for a lot longer than you have.”

“Sorry. You’re right, sorry.”

“I feel bad about it too.”

“Is he always such a jerk?”

“He likes Judy on a short leash, especially when they’re around her friends.”

“Why is a college guy so into a high school girl, anyway?” I asked. “Can’t he find his own girls? He’s got a campus full to choose from.”

She didn’t respond. We talked about other things for the rest of the ride. By the time we reached the high school, where I had left my car Friday morning, there was nothing left to talk about.

“What are you doing tonight?” she asked as I reached into the back seat for my gym bag.

“Probably just go home. There’s a party somewhere I thought about going to. I might be too tired.”

“Yeah, me too,” she said. “Look, don’t worry about this stuff. Maybe it’ll work itself out.”

For a second I thought about inviting Karen over just because I didn’t feel like being by myself, but decided it wasn’t a good idea. “Thanks,” I said. “Thanks for the ride, too.”

There I was, driving home to spend a Saturday night alone doing homework or flipping channels. Here I was, a school hero, having been crowned region champion just a couple of hours ago, wondering if there’s enough tuna fish in my refrigerator to make a sandwich.

To be fair, I was selling the situation short. Had I wanted to I could have attended the party. It would probably be wild and I would have a lot of fun. I was popular around school and my triumph at the tournament that night would make me a celebrity of sorts. It just seemed so unimportant. I was a success at school and wrestling was going well but the only thing I really cared about anymore was Judy. And that was the one thing that really wasn’t going well. I found something to eat at home and then went to bed.

Judy called the next morning at about ten o’clock as I was getting dressed for a run. By then I should have been used to her Sunday phone calls but they always came as a surprise. “Hi Ben, it’s Judy.”

“Hi,” I said, trying to sound calm. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s okay.”

“How was dinner last night? I had a tuna fish sandwich and a glass of water.”

She laughed. “I wish I’d been there, that sounds good.”

“Yeah. What a feast.”

“Look Ben, it’s my mom’s birthday and we’re having a brunch here. Will you come over? Karen will be here too.”

I was floored. Being invited back to the Voorst home wasn’t something that I expected to happen ever again. “Me, Judy? Do your parents know you’re inviting me?”

She hesitated but then answered. “Yeah, it was my dad’s idea. Craig told him about your championship last night and they thought of it together.”

I was immediately suspicious. The likelihood that those two guys wanted to celebrate my wrestling achievement was low. “Craig’s going to be there? I don’t know, Judy, it doesn’t sound right.”

“Please, Ben?” she asked. She’d never been so insistent before. Why did she want so badly for this to happen? I had no choice. “I know you can’t eat much but I’d really like you to come.”

“I’d like to, I guess, if you think it’s okay. I have to go for my run first. What time should I get there?”

“Everybody else is already here,” she confessed. “Why don’t you run to my house? Is it too far?”

It seemed like a possibility. Judy’s house wasn’t more than two or three miles away so it wouldn’t be much further than I wanted to run anyway. The only problem I could foresee was if I ended up needing a ride home if it turned out to be farther than that. In that case, I was sure it wouldn’t be a problem getting a ride from Judy or Karen.

“Do I have time?”

“Yeah, you have time. We haven’t started eating yet. Whenever you can get here.”

I thought a lot about the invitation as I ran. There was no real reason to invite me to celebrate Mrs. Voorst’s birthday. I had only met her once. If Craig and Mr. Voorst had cooked up the idea of having me over there had to be an ulterior motive. But if that was the case how could Judy be so naïve about it? Was she trying to force something to happen? Why was I willingly walking right into their trap? Well, running into their trap, actually. The reason was simple. It was a chance to be with Judy.

At eleven-fifteen I made it to the Voorst residence. It had been much further than I expected, probably five or six miles. That type of distance out in the cold the day after a long tournament wasn’t the kind of pounding I should have been subjecting my body to at that point in the season. I was trembling, either from the exertion or the cold, or maybe something else. I pulled the East Carolina Pirates ski cap off my head and tried to smooth out my hair. Steam rose from my sopping sweats as I approached the porch. While trying to catch my breath I wondered if I had made a mistake in coming. Judy opened the door before I even got to it so there was no turning back.

“Hi,” I said. As she stood in the doorway I felt a wave of dismay about the strange relationship that had developed between us. In some ways we were close but at moments like this it seemed almost as though we had just met. Just a few nights earlier we were huddled together in the dark as I tried to console her. Now here we were staring at each other without knowing what to say.

Before she even had a chance to open her mouth the door was jerked open wider and Craig appeared. “Morning,” he said to me with as little enthusiasm as possible.

“Hey,” I answered, sounding equally subdued. I reminded myself to be on guard. They led me into the dining room where everybody was gathered around the table except for Mr. Voorst, who was arranging food on trays and dishes. I got the impression that he had cooked everything himself. “Hey Champ!” Karen called.

Mr. Voorst put down the utensils he’d been holding and came over to shake my hand. “Good to see you again, Ben,” he said. “Out for a run?”

“Hi, Mr. Voorst. Yeah, I’ve got to keep training. Just one more week. It looks like you’ve been working for hours on this,” gesturing to the food.

“Actually,” he responded, “I have. Thanks for pointing that out. Did everybody hear that?”

“A job well done, Dad,” Judy chimed in good-naturedly.

“Ben, we saw your name in the paper,” Mrs. Voorst said. “Chapel Forge’s only winner.”

“Yeah. I did well last night.”

Judy had hardly said a word but she didn’t seem as miserable as she had the night before. Somehow, that was disappointing to me. I wanted her to feel as badly as I did about the way everything was turning out. Instead, she was sitting calmly next to Craig, who had his hand resting on her knee.

As the conversation lurched along for the next few minutes I felt foolish and out of place. They were all dressed for breakfast while I was covered with perspiration and wearing smelly sweats. I didn’t even feel like sitting was a good idea, at least until I dried out some. To top it all off I couldn’t eat anyway, making me look even more ridiculous at a brunch.

After the food was brought in everybody lined up buffet-style and filled their plates. For me there wasn’t much to eat except for a few slices of fruit.

“Ben, you’ll shrivel up to nothing if you keep eating like that,” Craig said.

“Yeah, right,” Karen sneered. “You saw him last night. Did he look like he was shriveling up?”

“I just have to keep my weight down for one more week. My plate will look a lot different next Sunday, wherever I am.”

“So what are your plans after wrestling, Ben?” Mr. Voorst asked.

“You mean this year?”

“I was thinking more about what you have planned after high school.”

I shrugged. “I’ll just take it as it comes,” I said, not really taking the question seriously.

“It?” asked Craig. Where were they going with this, I wondered. Something told me that an attack was in progress. Is this the high school jock going nowhere angle that Judy mentioned? I felt more uncomfortable than ever, standing there in my perspiration-stained sweats. I had to say something, but what? “I’m not focusing on that right now,” I said simply. “Maybe after the season.”

“Any chance you’ll go to college?” asked Mr. Voorst.

“Len, he’s not focusing on that right now,” Craig said. “There are more important things to think about, like challenging Hulk Hogan for the title,” Craig said with a smirk. So I knew then how it was going to go. They were teaming up and taking shots at me, and having fun doing it. I hoped for Karen or Judy to come to my defense but of course it didn’t happen. Karen was out of the room or I knew she wouldn’t have let them get away with it. Judy was still snared in Craig’s grasp and staring at the floor.

“I’m only a junior. I’m sure I’ll go to college,” I said defensively. As soon as I said it I knew that one of them would pounce.

Craig laughed. “It’s not as easy as that, my friend,” he said condescendingly. “Do you know what a college application is? There’s a lot to do. You don’t just show up and start taking classes.”

“Craig is at Rutgers,” Mr. Voorst pointed out.

No kidding. “Nice,” I said weakly.

“Nice?” he asked sarcastically. “Yeah, and speaking of applications, I’m already setting up grad school.” I couldn’t tell if that was part of the attack or if he was simply informing the Voorsts about something they didn’t know yet. “Ever heard of Wharton?” he asked me.

“No,” I admitted.

He shook his head in mock disgust. “Ben, I think you’re spending too much time reading the sports page.” The smirk had returned. “It’s only the best post-graduate business school in the country. It’s at Penn,” he explained, meaning the University of Pennsylvania, which I knew very well was a prestigious Ivy League school.

“And you’re going there next?” I asked.

“That’s my plan.”

“Ben doesn’t use the ‘p-word’,” Mr. Voorst said. “You better explain what you mean.”

They both laughed out loud. You think you’re a couple of badasses, I thought. How many houses have you burned down? But I was taking a beating and Judy knew it. She twisted out of Craig’s grasp and walked out of the room. I wished I could crawl out of the room myself.

“Are we being too rough on you, Ben?” Craig asked. “I think Judy’s feeling sorry for you.”

“We’re just joking around,” Mr. Voorst said. “You know we’re kidding, right?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“We’re just giving you a hard time,” Craig said.

No kidding. It didn’t matter anymore. If it had been a contest, it was over and I had lost. “I’d better get back out on the road,” I said, laying my untouched plate on the table. There was no point in saying goodbye. Things couldn’t get any worse. There was no reason for me to mind my manners.

I slipped out of the room and headed for the door. As I walked through the empty kitchen I heard Craig and Mr. Voorst laughing again. “Do you want fries with that?” Craig said loudly, followed another burst of laughter.

Judy popped into the foyer right when I did and she no doubt heard the “fries” remark too. “Let’s go out front for a minute,” she said, pulling me out the door. We sat on wicker chairs on the porch even though it was so cold. I felt the cold dampness of my clammy sweats and I was instantly miserable.

“They’re acting like jerks, Ben. I’m so sorry. I bring you nothing but grief.”

“They’re just kidding around,” I said bravely. “But I should have stuck up for myself more.”

“You shouldn’t have to.”

“Well Judy, I did realize one thing this morning. I’m not fitting into your life very well.” I stood and tugged at my sweatshirt where it had ridden up. “I’d better get running because I’m freezing my butt off sitting here.” She grabbed my arm and put her head on my chest the way she liked to do.

“Aren’t you afraid somebody’s going to see us?” I asked.

“Maybe it’s time they did,” Judy answered, but at the same time she let go and backed away.

“I’d better go,” I repeated. “Maybe I’ll see you at school, alright?”

“What are you doing later?” she asked before I got away.

“I’ll probably take a shower when I get back, and then work on some homework.”

“Probably take a shower?” she said, holding her nose and smiling. “Can I come over later? I need to study too.”

“Sure, that’s fine. I’ll be there all day,” I said. I turned and ran right past her without so much as a handshake.

The run home was much harder. For one thing, I had already run at least five miles to Judy’s house and so my muscles were already tired. Even worse, they had cooled down and tightened up. The worst part was the cold damp sweats I was wearing. Even after I had knocked off a mile or two I was still cold. For the last mile I prayed that I wouldn’t get sick because the state tournament was five days away.

Once home I stayed in the shower until there was no hot water left and still couldn’t get warm. My legs began knotting up after I got dressed and sat down. I’d definitely overdone it. I was sure I had run at least ten miles. I couldn’t remember ever doing a more stupid thing at a worse time.

Judy did make her way over to my place later just as she had said. When she arrived I was sitting on the couch wrapped in a blanket. Somehow, even after what had happened, I was glad to see her. That didn’t mean I had no concerns. “Judy, I don’t really see any point in doing what we’re doing,” I said. “Whatever it is.”

“I’m really sorry about what they did to you this morning. I had no right to put you in that situation. I should have known that would happen.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” I grumbled. “It was setup, no doubt about it.”

“Please don’t be mad at me,” Judy pleaded.

“I’m not. I know you wouldn’t do that to me on purpose.” By then we were sitting on the couch. I pulled the blanket back over my shoulders. “I just can’t get warm. I’m really hurting, too. That was way too far to run.”

“I really did it this time didn’t I? What hurts?”

“My stomach feels funny and my legs are cramping up. I’ll be alright by tomorrow.”

She sighed, and leaned her head back, looking defeated. “I don’t know,” she said, about nothing in particular. “It’s almost like I do everything possible to screw up your wrestling. I don’t know how it keeps happening.”

“Poor you.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Judy, Craig is your boyfriend. That’s all there is to it. There’s really no reason for my being around you at all, is there?”

“I just don’t know what to do.”

“I’ll tell you one thing, I’m not going through anything like this morning again. Not for anything. Nope, not me. They ambushed me. Next time I’ll just tell them to shove it. That includes your father. Then I’ll get up and leave.”

“You did get up and leave.” Tears began welling up in her reddening eyes.

“Not soon enough.” Usually this was the part where I consoled her because I couldn’t stand to see her being upset. This time I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. “This is it, Judy. Something’s got to give. One word from you and that doesn’t happen this morning. You just sat there with his arm around you watching the show. How do you think that makes me feel?”

“No, Ben,” she whispered.

“Here’s what I think, Judy,” I said. “You, Craig, your mom and dad, maybe even Karen, you think of me like an animal in the zoo. I’m just a dumb jock. You, you got curious and you wanted to take a closer look. That’s all you ever wanted. You think I’ll be serving French fries in a few years just like they do.”

I really didn’t believe what I was saying and it really wasn’t fair that I attacked her. Sure, she hadn’t stood up for me when I needed it. The only time she ever showed she cared for me was when nobody was looking. Underlying all of this, though, was the big lie about who I was. I hardly had any right to be angry.

I didn’t want it to end this way so I pulled her under the blanket with me and put my arm around her. After all that had happened there we were under a blanket, right back where we had been before. “Look Judy, I said it before. I’m here for you. Just don’t do that to me again, okay?”

Chapter 16

When I woke up on Monday morning I felt much better than I expected to. I had some stiffness in my legs from the excessive running but other than that I was fine. My weight was right where I needed it to be. Before school I was 170.5 pounds. I knew I wouldn’t have the burden of struggling with my weight that week.

Coach Miles asked Nick and me, the only wrestlers going to the state tournament, if we thought we should attend the practice of a nearby team. That way we would both have workout partners besides each other. We both declined. As experienced wrestlers, we didn’t need anything more than conditioning work during this final week. We wanted to stay at Chapel Forge and work hard without the strain of practicing with strangers. A few of the eliminated wrestlers had pledged to attend our practices to serve as workout partners, and that was enough.

Judy and I were together often that week but at the same time we tried to let things cool down. For me that was especially important because I wanted to concentrate on the state tournament in Atlantic City.

I was already formulating an early-exit plan in the back of my mind, mostly because of the article Brad sent. I didn’t regret taking the risks needed to get back onto the mat because I just had to know where I stood. But maybe I wasn’t going to be so hard to find after all. The wrestling was rewarding, especially because I’d finally achieved the success I craved, but was it was worth the extra exposure that could get me caught?

I already had an answer to one of my array of questions. Given another season on varsity, I knew I would be good enough to contend for the ultimate prize, a state championship. As far as wrestling went, that was what I needed to find out when I came to New Jersey. Maybe, I was beginning to think, if I did well enough this weekend, I should declare victory and disappear again rather than coming back for a senior year at Chapel Forge. It was looking less and less like Judy and I would end up together if I stayed, even if I didn’t get caught.

The seeding for the state tournament came out on Wednesday afternoon just like it had for the tournaments each of the previous weeks. There were twenty-four wrestlers at each weight class. Despite being one of eight region champions, I was seeded ninth. That meant that I would have to wrestle a preliminary match early Friday evening. If I won I would wrestle again that night in a regular quarterfinal match. It was no consolation to me that my preliminary bout would be against the lowest-seeded wrestler. My opponent would still be among the twenty-four best in the state.

Coach Miles told me that once again my lack of history in New Jersey had something to do with my seemingly low seeding. He pointed out that three state placers from the previous year had lost in their respective region finals but were seeded above me because they had placed in the state the prior year. “Them’s the rules. You’ve also got five losses, Ben,” he said. “That’s more than most guys in the bracket.”

I didn’t like it. Three of those losses were to the same wrestler, Ken Brown, who was a returning state placer. Furthermore, I had avenged those losses last Saturday in the region finals.

Brown, who was yet another returning state placer who didn’t win his region this year, was seeded tenth. Since I beat him head to head in the region finals he couldn’t be seeded ahead of me, or so I guessed. The system was too complicated for me to try to understand. At least his seed placed him way over on the other side of the bracket.

On Thursday Judy and Karen stunned me. “We’re going to Atlantic City for the weekend,” Judy said cheerfully. “We already bought tournament passes over the phone.” There was something different about her. She seemed self-confident. Actually, that was how she was when I first met her in the fall, very sure of herself and what she was doing. It was only during the months since I’d gotten to know her that she’d become so tentative.

“That’s great. Did you get a room?”

“Yeah, we’re staying on the mainland. There weren’t any rooms left anywhere in Atlantic City. It doesn’t matter. We’re only sleeping there.”

Coach, Nick and I were sharing a room at Trump Plaza, a four-star hotel. Nick told me that not only was this hotel and casino directly adjacent to Boardwalk Hall, where the wrestling would take place, but also that the two buildings were connected by an indoor passageway. We would only have to walk a few yards, all indoors, while Judy and Karen would be driving for miles. There was nothing I could do about it. I was just glad to know they would be there watching me on the mat.

Nick and I were rather tired of wrestling each other by Thursday. As the days passed fewer and fewer teammates showed up for practice until it was just the two of us. I couldn’t blame them. They’d put in a long season and it was hard to find the motivation to keep coming back after their own seasons had ended. After Thursday’s practice we agreed that we would meet in the gym the next morning at eleven o’clock to leave for Atlantic City. Coach left it up to us whether or not we attended school in the morning or not but promised to have us excused at eleven o’clock if we did.

Judy had already surprised me once that day, at lunch time, when she told me of her plans to be in Atlantic City for the weekend. When I emerged with Nick from the locker room after what would be the last practice of the season she did it again. She was standing against the wall and had evidently been watching the locker room door. She smiled when she saw us.

“Hey! What are you doing here?” I asked.

“Hi Judy,” Nick said as he continued walking. “Ben, see you tomorrow, man.”

“Yeah, thanks Nick,” I called.

“I’m so glad I didn’t miss you,” Judy said. “I just walked in the door.”

“Isn’t your play tonight?” I asked. The Drama Guild was finishing their run of the winter production of Shakespeare’s “MacBeth.” We hadn’t talked about it much. All Judy and I seemed to talk about was my world, wrestling.

She looked surprised. “Yeah,” she said, obviously pleased. “How did you know?”

“What do you mean, how did I know? You’re my girl, that’s how I know.”

“That’s sweet, Ben. I just came by because I wanted to see you, that’s all.”

“At one point I was planning on coming to see the show,” I continued. “After Sunday I decided it was a bad idea.”

Her face lit up. “It doesn’t start for an hour! You could still come!” Then she was crestfallen. “It’s sold out.”

Then it was my turn to surprise her. I reached into the pocket of my book bag, rummaged around and pulled out a ticket. “Not a problem.” Without telling Judy I had purchased a ticket last week a few days before the Sunday breakfast disaster. I had figured that it would be a nice way to spend the evening before the state tournament.

“You were coming all along?” she asked.

“Not exactly. After what happened Sunday I figured I shouldn’t,” I repeated. She was beaming.

“I don’t look very presentable,” I said. “What do you think?” I was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt.

“You look fine.”

“Okay.”

“Ben? I just had an idea.”

“Oh yeah?” I asked.

“I know how you must feel after Sunday so I’ll understand if you say no.”

“Okay. No to what?”

“We’re having a cast party after the show and I was wondering if you’d like to go. With me, I mean.”

“You mean I’d be your date?”

“Well, yeah,” she replied.

“They won’t have food there will they?” I asked. “You really want me to come with you? Craig won’t be waiting there to ambush me will he?”

“Come on.”

“Sorry,” I said. “I’d love to.”

“Great! You can meet some of my friends. You hardly know any of them.”

“I hope they won’t mind my being there. I’m not really their type.”

“How do you know?”

“How do I find you after the show?”

“Just stay in the auditorium until it clears out,” she suggested. “I’ll come get you.”

There was plenty of time before the show started. I went back into the locker room and repacked my gear to kill some time. Then I headed down to the auditorium.

The production of “The Tragedy of MacBeth,” as it was titled on the playbill, was a fun time. Luckily it was one of the few works of Shakespeare that I was familiar with. Judy played Lady MacDuff. It was a thrill for me to watch her doing something that she was good at and was important to her. My feelings were probably a mirror image of what she felt when she watched me wrestle. It made me feel selfish for not showing much interest in the things that were important to her. I wondered if she’d noticed that.

After the show ended and the lights came on I loitered in my seat as everybody else filed out. Just when I thought the ushers were going to start questioning me Judy appeared through a side door. She was dressed in a hybrid of costume and street clothes but was still heavily laden with makeup. “Judy, you were great!” I gushed.

“Thanks!” she replied with enthusiasm. “I finally know the script.”

“I liked watching you. I Can’t wait for the next one.”

“We’re just about ready to go. This was the final show so we don’t have to stay for prep tonight. Otherwise, we’d be here for at least another hour.”

“Can we drive separately?” I asked. “I can’t afford to stay out late. Big day tomorrow.”

“Sure. I was going to say that. Can you wait just another few minutes?”

“Yeah, of course, but I better go out in the lobby. I’m starting to get some looks.”

“Okay,” she laughed. “I’ll come get you in a few minutes.”

The party turned out to be at the home of the actor who played Duncan in “MacBeth.” Stripped of their costumes and makeup most of the cast turned out to be students that I saw in the halls every day at school. Judy dutifully introduced me to everybody we came across. Everyone was receptive to me and many seemed to know all about me. I was nervous and stayed close to Judy. I remembered the time when Judy and I had planned on attending a party after a match in January when she had been very nervous about it. This time the tables were turned and I had a new appreciation for how she must have felt.

“We don’t get many wrestlers at cast parties,” said Mary Mason, who had played Lady MacBeth. “You’re welcome anytime,” she said with a dramatic bow. She was an interesting person. I’d seen her slithering along in the hallways at schools and never imagined her as the dynamic person she turned out to be.

I didn’t say much at the party but I enjoyed everybody who was there. They were a bunch of motivated kids just like my teammates, with more self-confidence than other students realized. They loved what they were involved in and they were good at it. I felt no animosity towards me at all. In fact, they seemed to be happy that I was there. Judy enjoyed shepherding me around the party by the hand. Nobody asked about Craig all night.

“I’m going to have to get going soon,” I told Scott Sperry, the host of the party. “There’s a lot going on tomorrow for me.”

“Yeah, the state tournament starts tomorrow,” he said. “171, right?”

“Yeah, right,” I said, unable to hide the surprise in my voice.

“I wrestled for a couple years when I was little,” he said. “I won a few matches but I hated it.”

I’d never have guessed that he had wrestled but I couldn’t think of any reason why not. He looked like a normal, healthy kid just like any of us on the team. “Yeah, it’s the kind of thing you have to love to keep doing it. I notice I’m the only one here not eating,” I pointed out.

He laughed. “I wasn’t even thinking about that part of it.”

“I think what you do is awesome,” I told him. “I wish I could do it.”

“It isn’t as exciting as winning the region championship 7-6.” When he saw the look on my face, he laughed. “Judy told me.”

“Maybe it’s a different kind of excitement,” I said as I got up to look for Judy. I stuck my hand out. “Thanks for having me, Scott. It was great to meet everybody. I hope nobody minded an outsider crashing the party.”

“You’re not an outsider, Ben. I’m glad you came. I like seeing her glow,” he said, gesturing towards Judy.

Judy already had my jacket. “Can I walk you out?” she asked. “I’m staying for a while.”

“Please,” I said, taking my jacket.

It was cold outside, especially for early March. We found my car on the street and then it was time to say goodbye. “Thanks for inviting me. It was great to meet your friends,” I said.

“I was proud to have you with me. It wasn’t too boring?”

“It was fun. I’m really glad I came.”

She reached gently for the back of my neck and pulled my face closer to hers. Before I knew it she had kissed me softly on the lips. “Goodnight, Ben,” she said quietly. “Thank you for being my date.”

I was speechless when she kissed me. I was already replaying the kiss in my mind for the first of what turned out to be a thousand times. I drove home and crawled into bed. There was a lot to think about.

Chapter 17

I was excited but nervous as soon as we saw the Atlantic City skyline from the expressway early Friday afternoon. As we crossed the bay I caught a glimpse of Boardwalk Hall, just to the south of us. When Judy and I had visited a few weeks ago we decided not to explore the arena. I had hoped to be back to wrestle inside of it. Two tournaments later that hope had become a reality. My preliminary match would begin in fewer than four hours.

We parked in the Trump Plaza Casino garage and entered the hotel. As soon as we stepped inside I heard a strange sound that I’d never heard before, a constant chiming sound that seemed to come from everywhere. “Hear the slot machines?” Nick asked, knowing that Atlantic City was unfamiliar territory to me. “It’s the same sound in every casino.”

I wondered how I hadn’t noticed the sound when I was here with Judy. Every time we turned a corner there were more slot machines lined up. At nearly every one sat a still figure staring intently at the machine.

“Let’s get out of here,” said Coach Miles. “That sound is driving me crazy. The hotel is nice and quiet, trust me.”

We checked in and rode the elevator to our floor. I was hoping for a view of the Atlantic Ocean but our room faced to the north, up the boardwalk toward half a dozen other casinos. I could see the ocean only if I pressed my face against the window. Still, it was a stunning view. I thought about the view Judy would have in whatever motel room she and Karen had booked. Hopefully it would at least be safe.

Since we had time we lounged around after unpacking. The preliminary round was scheduled to begin at six o’clock, so at four o’clock we began packing up to walk next door. Nick was more relaxed than I was because he didn’t have a preliminary round match. Since I did have one I began to withdraw, thinking about why I was there and what I planned to accomplish.

My first opponent would be Tony Cantor of Tenafly. I had no idea where Tenafly was except that it was pretty far to the north, even further than New York City. Cantor had placed third in his region. His record of sixteen wins and eight losses was unimpressive for a wrestler who had gotten all the way to Atlantic City. He either came from a weak region or had peaked late in the season.

We passed through yet another casino area and then through a set of doorways and corridors into the arena. After Coach Miles showed some paperwork we were issued passes and allowed to enter. The arena was gorgeous on the inside, in contrast to its dingy exterior. It was decorated in modern teal and purple colors on the concourse. In the main arena the barrel-vaulted ceiling was trimmed in purple and gold. On one end, on the floor of the arena, was a stage on which wrestling mats had been rolled out. That must be the stage where Bob Barker crowned Miss America every year, I decided. This weekend it would serve as a warm up area for wrestlers. There were eight pristine wrestling mats of disparate colors but identical size covering the floor of the arena.

Nick hadn’t changed out of his street clothes yet but I had dressed for competition back in the hotel room. He headed down the concourse following the signs to the open weigh-in. I made my way down to the floor, spent a few minutes stretching and then ran a few laps around the perimeter to loosen up while I still had my running shoes on. I had worked up a good sweat by the time I took a seat at one of the empty scorer’s tables to rest. After about a minute had passed I heard my name being called. It was Judy and Karen, who were standing at the bottom row of the seats. I scurried over and climbed the temporary steps up to where they were.

“How are you feeling, champ?” Karen asked.

“Really good,” I answered. “I’m glad you made it. I have an early match.”

“Yeah, a preliminary,” Karen complained. “What’s the region champ doing having a match in the preliminary round?”

“That’s how New Jersey treats wrestlers from below the Mason-Dixon Line, I guess.”

“I know you’ll do it,” Judy said after she leaned in to give me a quick hug. As she spoke I saw that her cheek was slick and shiny with my perspiration.

“Thanks for coming. Where are you sitting?” I asked.

“I know we have to sit way up top somewhere,” Judy said. “All of the lower seats are reserved.”

“Sorry,” I said helplessly.

“We’ll try to find you after your match but don’t worry about looking for us,” Karen said.

“I tell you what. I’ll come off the floor right here and head up there,” I said, pointing up the steps. “Maybe we could meet there.”

“Okay,” Judy said.

“When do you wrestle next?” Karen asked. “After the preliminaries, I mean?”

“If I win, the next round starts at eight o’clock. The matches will probably go pretty quickly with eight mats going,” I told them.

Judy gave me another squeeze. “I know you’ll win.”

I heard my name being called again. At the top of the concrete steps, on the concourse level, Coach Miles was waving me up. “You have to weigh in!” he was shouting.

“Oh yeah, weigh-ins,” I told the girls. “I hope I’m on weight. I’d better go.”

“Okay,” Judy said. “Good luck.”

As expected, I made weight easily. The metal balance on the scale never moved from its resting place. That was a relief because there would be weigh-ins the next two mornings and it looked like I wouldn’t have any weight problems to deal with.

Coach Miles found me again on the stage during the 145-pound preliminaries. “I’ll be down on the floor,” he said. “Nick and I are going to scout the 160 matches.”

When my match was announced on deck on mat five I headed in that direction. As soon as I spotted Coach Miles and Nick I walked over to join them. The three of us walked over to the mat and I began the ritual of stripping off my warm-ups, more stretching, and snapping my headgear into place. I looked up at the rapidly filling arena knowing that Judy was out there somewhere, probably watching me closely. I made a thumbs-up motion. Later, if she had seen it, I would tell her it was for her.

Cantor and I wrestled cautiously at the outset of our match. We circled each other for the opening minute of the first period. Then I tapped his headgear to distract him and shot in deep on a double-leg. I tried to lift and dump him but was unable to. I ended up tripping one leg and pushing straight through, driving him to a seated position. From there I kept on coming until I was able to step over and take control for a two-point takedown.

I started the second period in the top position but I was unable to ride him for very long. He sat and turned in, and quickly took my leg. I tried a whizzer, hooking his left arm from behind with my right arm, but he shook it off. He sucked my leg in and pushed me onto my butt. I was in danger of losing control. Just as I had done to him in the first period, he persistently worked to step over my body until I couldn’t fight him off. Surrendering the two points, I flipped over and established my base. That left the score tied at 2.

There was still half a minute left in the second period. I didn’t want the period to end with the score tied so I worked furiously for an escape. I wasn’t panicking yet because I was still sure I could beat this guy but I had reached the point where I needed to start making it happen. I sat through and pivoted to my right and buried my arm between his legs, attempting a switch. The move worked perfectly, as his arm, still around my waist, provided the leverage for my movement and also served as an anchor to keep him from moving to defend. I slipped behind for two points and regained the lead. The period ended with no further scoring. I led 4-2.

Miles yelled “Ben!” as soon as we untangled. He pointed down vociferously, reminding me to choose to start the third period in the bottom position. It was an unnecessary reminder but I nodded obediently. When the period started it was obvious that Cantor was trying to cradle me. I made sure to keep my head up and away from my knees so as not to make it easier for him. Still, he worked relentlessly for it. I thought about trying to score by using a switch again, because I had succeeded almost effortlessly with it before, but he wasn’t in a good position for that since he was working on a cradle. Eventually he did manage to lock his hands for the cradle but when he did he slipped too far forward.

“He’s too high!” I heard Nick yelling. Any wrestler knew what that meant. Cantor had shifted his own center of balance too far above and in front of mine, leaving him vulnerable to several dangerous possibilities. I reached up for the back of his neck and than hipped up, forcing him to slide even further forward. I hoped that with my hold on his neck he might roll onto his back but that was wishful thinking against a wrestler of Cantor’s caliber. I was, however, able to slip out backwards between his legs and take control. I had scored a reversal and led 6-2.

There were twenty-five seconds left. As had happened earlier, I was unable to ride Cantor. For the remainder of the match we replayed his earlier period reversal. He sat, turned in, took my leg, and stepped over for two points. I was happy to let him have the points, knowing that time was ticking away. Time ran out shortly after the referee signaled the reversal. I had won a workmanlike 6-4 victory.

“A lot closer than I hoped,” I choked out between breaths as I came off the mat.

“This is states, Ben,” Miles replied. “Every wrestler here is tough. We’ll take any wins no matter what the score is. Besides, it wasn’t as close as the score.”

“Yeah,” I gasped. “But he’s the lowest seed and I only beat him by two points.”

They ignored me, as they should have. What they had said was true. At that point in the season everybody left is tough and victories by any score are hard to come by. Somebody has to be the lowest seed. I pulled the straps of my singlet down to my waist and put on my Chapel Forge t-shirt, leaving the rest of my warm-ups in the gym bag for later after I cooled down. I had another match soon and I didn’t want to risk getting overheated in the warm building. Nick and Coach headed toward the warm-up mats on the stage, presumably for some last minute preparations for his match. Instead of following I climbed the concrete steps up to the concourse level where I had told Judy and Karen I’d meet them. Judy was already there.

“You did it!” Judy exclaimed as she charged forward and hugged me. This time my entire body was drenched in sweat. It must have felt awful for her but she didn’t seem to mind.

“It’s only one match,” I reminded her.

The next instant she tensed up and backed away. Something was happening and I didn’t have a clue as to what it was until I spied a familiar face approaching. A great moment had been spoiled. What on earth was he doing here?

He had a sour look on his face that I’d never seen in any of our prior encounters. This was probably the nasty, jealous side of him that I’d only heard about. There was no way of knowing what he would do so I braced for trouble. Unlike last Sunday he didn’t have the upper hand because this time he was on my turf. I worried that he was aware of that and might be desperate.

When he reached us he acted as though I wasn’t even there. “Come on, Judy,” he said forcefully. “We need to get going.” Where he felt they needed to go went unstated.

Judy turned to face him. “No, Craig, I’m staying here. Ben has another match coming up tonight.”

Craig began to fume. I could see his anger building before my eyes. Karen had once mentioned that his malicious alter ego usually emerged when he was around Judy’s friends. I had no idea what he would do. One thing I had in my favor was that this time he didn’t have Judy’s father at his side. There would be no ganging up on me this time if he chose to come after me next.

“Come on, Judy!” he said angrily. “Let’s go!”

“I told you Craig, I’m staying.”

“Look sport,” he said, finally looking at me, “I’d stay away from my girlfriend if I were you.”

I dropped my bag and held my hands up, palms facing him. “I’m just standing here,” I said innocently.

“Thirty minutes!” he barked at us. Before we could answer he stalked off.

“What was that all about?” I asked, as if I didn’t know.

She ignored the question. The moment had passed and she was trembling. She had to know that Craig wasn’t finished. Neither he nor Mr. Voorst would give up that easily. But even with their interference maybe there was hope for Judy and me after all. At that moment I knew for the first time that I would eventually tell her the truth about myself. It was only a matter of when.

“Ben, you can’t think about this right now,” Judy said firmly. “Go back down and get ready for your next match.”

“Are you sure? Will you be okay?”

“Yes,” she said with a nod. “Get going,” she repeated as she pushed me away. I stepped back towards her, gave her one last hug, and disappeared back down the concrete steps onto the floor of the arena.

My next opponent was Dan Cortez from Warren Central. Cortez was another returning state placer who didn’t win his region this year. He had been seeded eighth, one ahead of me. His record of 27-4 was excellent, but if he could lose four times, I knew he could lose a fifth. Of course, he could have said pretty much the same thing about my record of 25-5.

Nick had a relatively easy time in his match. It looked to me like he was pacing himself and trying not to expend too much energy during the early rounds. Rather than going for a pin he was satisfied to score on tilts and takedowns and to wrestle safely. That made sense in a tournament bracket full of sharks, where all he had to do to advance was win by any score. I had to admire him for having the composure to control his match to that degree, although I normally believed that the best strategy was always to go for the pin. He advanced to the state quarterfinals with a 13-3 victory. All three of the points scored by his opponent were because Nick had cut him loose in order to stay out of danger.

My match was called on deck immediately after Nick’s victory. Every match I wrestled from then on was the biggest of my career. If I could win this one I knew I’d already be near the top in one of the country’s best wrestling states.

When it was time for my match Cortez appeared in the opposite corner of the mat. He looked surprisingly small, I thought with relief. That would be a nice change. “He was pinned three times this season,” Miles told me. “That must be the way to beat this guy. Last year he was pinned here twice.”

I pulled up the straps of my singlet, running my thumbs between them and my skin to flatten them out. My mouth was already dry so I took a squirt of water before heading out onto the mat.

Cortez squeezed my hand hard and then threw my hand away. Good, I thought. I liked wrestling against guys who spent so much energy trying to intimidate their opponent. In most cases I found that they were less prepared once the match began. He was wasting his time trying to intimidate me because I was far beyond that. So was everybody else in this tournament for that matter.

He continued with his attempts to intimidate me when the match started by repeatedly slapping my headgear. Several times he missed, making contact with my face. I timed his head slaps and when I knew he was reaching for another one I shot underneath for his legs. He had set himself up better than I possibly could have. Even after he knew I was coming for his legs he could do nothing because he had already committed himself to lunging at my head. I took both legs and pulled them in tight. From my knees I lifted him off the mat and dumped him hard onto his butt. There was still enough forward momentum that I was able to continue moving through him until he was on his back. Quickly I moved up and inserted a reverse half nelson before he could roll away. At the same time I shifted my body so that it was perpendicular to his. I switched my hold again when he rolled towards me, this time into a tight headlock. Ten seconds after the cocky Cortez was slapping at my head he was helpless on his back in a very non-intimidating position.

“Finish it off Ben!” Nick yelled. I trusted his instincts. There was still over a minute left in the period. I wouldn’t risk letting him slip out of danger by working recklessly for a pin but I remembered Coach Miles pointing out that the best way to beat him was to pin him.

Taking care to lift his head off the mat with my right arm, I used my left arm to lift on his elbow. Slowly and carefully, so as not to disturb the delicate balance that was working in my favor, I arched my extended body over and across his, driving his far shoulder closer and closer to the mat. My head was cocked towards the ceiling and so I couldn’t see his back but from experience I knew exactly how quickly space was closing between his back and the mat as I leaned and arched.

“Thirty seconds!” I heard somebody shout. It was a voice I didn’t recognize so I figured it must be the Warren Central coach exhorting Cortez to hold on for another half minute. I was doing all I could and it was only the toughness of my opponent that was preventing the referee’s hand from slapping the mat. The effort had to be draining his energy. I, on the other hand, was hardly exerting any energy at all, so perfect was the pinning combination.

When it was starting to look like the period was going to run out with no pin call I had to make a decision. After there wasn’t enough time for Cortez to score I would go all out for the pin. It was risky because it would open me up to being rolled. When there were eight seconds left it was time. I un-arched my body and went chest-to-chest while keeping the headlock as tight as possible. At the same time I lifted my hips off the mat, posting on my toes. The result of this maneuver was that suddenly all of my weight was on my tired opponent’s chest. It was an awkward position because I was unbalanced but my gamble paid off. The referee signaled the pin just when I had given up on it. I looked at the clock and saw that there was but a single second left.

When I looked over into my corner Coach Miles was pumping his fist through the air and Nick was just landing from a vertical leap. I was as excited as they were. Cortez ripped off his headgear and threw it at his coach’s feet. He stomped off the mat until his coach barked at him. Then he trudged back to the center where we shook hands. He mumbled something as my hand was raised but I didn’t know or care what he had said. Nick and I were both in the state quarterfinals. We celebrated with high fives all around and then vacated the corner so the next wrestler and coach could move in. I’d survived the first two sessions of the state tournament. Little did I know that my struggles for that night were only about to begin.

Chapter 18

I put my warm-ups on before I had a chance to cool down after pinning Cortez. I hadn’t gotten six minutes of work in and I still had to make weight in the morning so I hoped I could sweat off some water weight before my body temperature returned to normal. Then, as soon as I could gracefully peel away from Nick and Coach I headed up to the concourse where I had met Judy earlier.

Judy wasn’t there but Karen was. I could tell immediately that there was trouble. Before I could open my mouth Karen confirmed my suspicions. “Craig’s getting crazy,” she said with a sense of urgency. “And so is Judy.”

“What happened?”

“You know what happened. Come on, you know him by now.”

I was still out of breath from my match, which had ended only about five minutes earlier. “What did that creep do to her?” I demanded between breaths. “Where are they?”

“Ben, get a grip. We’re on the same side, remember?”

“Yeah, I know. Sorry. I’m just worried.”

“Don’t you think I am too?”

“What do we do?” I asked. “It’s got to end here, don’t you think?”

“Yes, but not yet. You’ve got to do what you came here to do. This has been going on for a while. It can wait another day or two. That’s what she’d want if we asked.”

“What should I do?”

“I just told you. Win your matches. This is your only chance for that. After that’s over we’ll tackle this next problem.”

I gave Karen my room number at Trump Plaza before we went our separate ways. Thinking again of weigh-ins, I dug my jump rope out of my gym bag and put in some more sweat time near the warm-up mats on the stage. I was so agitated that I had trouble concentrating on what I was doing. Luckily I was only jumping rope. If I can’t clear my head I’ll really be in trouble tomorrow, I thought.

After twenty minutes of jumping rope I’d had enough. The pre-quarterfinal session was nearly over and the building had already started to empty out. There was no need to look for Nick and Coach because I had an electronic key-card for the hotel room stashed in my gym bag. I put on my sneakers, rode the escalators down to the main lobby and exited the arena. I couldn’t find the direct passage back to Trump Plaza so I left through the doors that led outside to the boardwalk. The blast of cold air felt good even though I was covered with perspiration. I walked north, knowing that the next building was my hotel. When I got inside I found an eclectic mix of gamblers and wrestling fans in their jeans and team jackets. I worked my way through the crowds until I found an elevator. “There you are,” Coach Miles said when I inserted my key and pushed open the door to our room.

They were going over arm drags, and more importantly, counters to them. “Nick’s got Boyle tomorrow morning,” Coach explained. “I’ve never seen so many arm drags as I did in his match tonight.”

“Cool, good thinking,” I told them although I had no idea who Boyle was, and then flopped onto one of the beds. “I’ve got Nate Scheinhorn. Know anything about him?”

“I didn’t get to see him tonight,” Coach answered. “He was up at the same time you were. He’s got a pretty good record. You’d better be on your toes.”

“Pretty good? Try 32 and 0,” I said grumpily.

“What’s wrong, man?” Nick asked. “You’re not yourself tonight.”

I lied. “I guess I’m worried about my weight. I drank too much water between matches. I’ll probably get up early and walk over to check it.”

“What time do the scales open?” Nick asked.

“Six-thirty. We can weigh in anytime up to nine o’clock.”

“I’ll call somebody from the Shore area about Scheinhorn,” Coach Miles promised. “We’ll see what we can find out about him.”

“Thanks, Coach,” I said.

I stretched out on the bed to rest while they continued working through arm drags. I wasn’t tired, exactly, but it did feel good to get off of my feet. All I could think about was Judy, wondering if Craig was bullying her somewhere at that very moment. I must have dozed off because the next thing I knew the room was much darker. It looked like Coach was sleeping in the other bed and Nick was on the pullout couch. While I was in the bathroom brushing my teeth there was a knock at the door. On the way to answer it I saw that it was nearly eleven o’clock.

Somehow I wasn’t surprised at all when I opened the door and saw Judy. “Hi, Ben. I didn’t wake you up did I?”

“No, not really. Is everything alright?”

“Yeah. I didn’t get to see you after your match, that’s all.”

Nick and Coach were sleeping and I didn’t want to disturb them. After making sure I still had my key card in my pocket I stepped out into the hallway and pulled the door closed behind me as gently as I could. I’d been wondering how it was that Judy was there alone but when I stepped into the hallway I had my answer. She wasn’t. Craig was lurking about fifty feet away near the elevators. “What’s he doing down there?” I snarled.

“He didn’t want to interfere. I told him I was coming to wish you luck tomorrow.”

“The only way he could interfere would be if you let him. Why doesn’t he come down here and wish me luck too?”

“I shouldn’t have come,” she said as she stared at the floor. “I’m sorry. The last thing I wanted to do was upset you, especially tonight. You’ve got such a big day tomorrow.”

“I was already upset. It doesn’t matter anyway. I can’t beat any of the guys left in the bracket so what’s the difference?”

“How can you say that? You’ve been beating everybody. Besides, just getting this far is incredible! Next year it’ll be you that everybody’s afraid of.”

“I’m not coming back next year, Judy,” I said acidly. “I’ll be long gone one way or another. So like I said, what’s the difference?” She stared at me.

I glanced down the hall at Craig, who was far enough away that he probably couldn’t hear how my conversation with Judy was going. He saw me looking and waved. That infuriated me even more. I waved him away. He was a guy who was always looking for a confrontation so that got his attention. The next thing I knew he was stomping towards us. That was fine with me because the memory of the brunch disaster was still fresh in my mind. I stepped past Judy to wait for him head on.

“Beat it!” I yelled at him as he approached. As I got angrier and angrier I noticed Judy was gawking at me. She had never seen me raise my voice before. I was losing control of myself before her eyes.

“Ben, Ben, are we losing it here?” Craig asked condescendingly.

I jabbed my finger in the air in his direction. “You better turn around and go back where you came from,” I warned.

“Yeah? Why is that, sport?”

“Craig, we’d better go,” Judy said.

“You know, Craig,” I said. “You’re a bright guy. Why don’t you get it? It isn’t working anymore. You’re the odd man out, know what I mean? How could you not know that?” This had become a simple fight over a girl.

“You’re delusional, my friend,” he responded. “Judy, tell him what delusional means.”

“I see right through you and so does everybody else.” I said. “Don’t push me.”

“Push you? I haven’t even started. Want to talk about my buddy who goes to Duke? That’s not too far from Raleigh, you know. He should switch his major to criminal justice. Or maybe investigative journalism. I keep telling him he’s a natural. So you just keep talking.”

Now it was me that went speechless. As I thought about what he’d said the door to my room opened. “Come on Ben,” Nick said, pulling on me. “Get in here! Cut it out!” He was standing between Craig and me. “You don’t need this. Deal with it later.” I allowed him to push me into the room. Before the door closed I heard Coach speaking sternly. I don’t know what he said to Judy and Craig but things were quiet when he came back into the room. He shut the door, slid the deadbolt into position, and turned to me. “Ben, don’t blow this tournament. Is this over the girl?”

Knowing that it was, I felt foolish. He made it sound so silly. I opened my mouth to answer but he cut me off. “It doesn’t matter. Just put that off until after tomorrow. You owe it to yourself. I’m not saying it’s not important but it can wait. This tournament won’t.”

It was the last word on the subject. I was too angry to speak, even to him or Nick. We turned out the lights again. Soon I knew by their breathing that they had both gone back to sleep. I was envious, knowing that it would be hours before I would be able to. I couldn’t remember anytime in my life, either my new one or my old one, when I’d been so confused.

There was no way to pretend that Craig didn’t know at least something about my past. Maybe everything. I thought through everything I’d done since coming north but couldn’t understand what could have tipped him off. Except for Judy, and maybe Karen, nobody in Jersey knew anything at all about me. Was he bluffing? Did he even have a friend at Duke University at all? But if he was bluffing, how would he have known that there was anything to bluff about in the first place?

At one-thirty I gave up trying to sleep and decided to go for a walk in the hotel. When I arrived on the main floor I was that the casinos were still packed with gamblers. If anything the crowds were bigger than before.

My throat was dry so I stopped off at a vendor’s cart and bought a bottle of diet soda. The only available size was twenty-four ounces, much bigger than I wanted. I was so thirsty that I bought it anyway, planning to drink only a few swallows. On a whim, I also bought a bag of popcorn at a refreshment stand. A little popcorn wouldn’t make too much of a difference at weigh-in time. There would be plenty of time to run off a pound or two if it came to that.

How strange it was that I was there at all. One year before, three-hundred and sixty-two days to be exact, I was preparing for the final day of regional competition back home in North Carolina. Although I already knew then what was in store for me whenever that season ended, life was still relatively normal except for what had happened to my father. What if somebody had told me then that in one year I would be wandering around a casino in Atlantic City, New Jersey, in the middle of the night, only hours before I would wrestle in a state quarterfinal match? What if they added that at the moment I was less preoccupied about the match than I was about getting busted, or about a Jersey girl I’d met? Would I have laughed? No, I wouldn’t have even bothered laughing because it sounded ridiculous. So much had happened in a year that it was nearly beyond my comprehension.

Munching my popcorn and drinking my soda, knowing but inexplicably not caring that I was creating a huge problem for myself, I ambled slowly through a breezeway into the next casino, which had a western theme. Until then I hadn’t realized that the casinos were interconnected. When I left Caesar’s and entered Bally’s it was as if I had walked from the streets of the Roman Empire into the American West. Even the carpet changed as I crossed from one realm into another. Suddenly, cactuses and campfires surrounded me beneath a faux sky filled with glittering stars. The casino itself was decorated in a western town motif. As soon as I looked around I saw that although the scenery had changed, nothing much else had. The same cast of gamblers was seated at the slot machines. The constant chiming sound created the impression that throughout the casino gamblers were winning fortunes with incredible regularity.

I spent a few minutes watching a group of men playing blackjack. After the participants began peering at me I moved on. The craps tables were even more interesting. I had no idea how the game worked but the antics of the dice throwers were entertaining. No matter how the dice landed the players seemed to find something to cheer about while throwing more chips onto the table. After a few minutes of watching that I turned and continued my tour.

By two-thirty I had passed through several other themed casinos before turning around to head back to Trump Plaza. I was finally feeling tired but was also upset with myself because the entire soda was gone.

Grateful that I knew that sleep was finally near, I found the elevator and returned to our room. The door made a loud snapping noise when I unlocked it with my electronic key card but it didn’t sound like anybody woke up. I crawled under the covers, and this time was able to drop off to sleep quickly.

Chapter 19

Since I had only gone to sleep a few hours earlier it was no surprise that Nick and Coach had to rouse me at dawn. “Ben, didn’t you need to check your weight?” I heard Nick asking as I slowly returned to consciousness. Even after he said that it took me a moment to remember where I was and what was in store for me that day.

“Yeah, what time is it?” I asked.

“It’s six-thirty-five, the scales just opened.”

I scrambled out of bed. There was a taste of food in my mouth, the popcorn I had eaten overnight, which reminded me of why I definitely needed to get to the scales as soon as possible. As quickly as I could I pulled on some sweats and slipped into the bathroom to brush my teeth without bothering to shower. I gathered everything I’d need and stuffed it into my gym bag.

“Is it okay if I meet you guys over there?” I asked Coach.

“Sure, Ben,” he replied. “Look, about last night. I don’t know what that was about but whatever it was, you’ve got to put it out of your mind today.”

“Yeah, I already have, Coach. Today’s too important. I’m all wrestling today.”

“Good. How’s your weight?”

“Bad, I think,” I replied truthfully. After what I’d consumed overnight I knew I would be racing the clock to burn off the extra weight. “I’d better get over there.”

“Do you have your rubber suit?” he asked while gesturing toward my gym bag with his thumb.

It was a momentous question. A rubber suit was made of rubbery plastic material designed for one thing: to trap body heat, causing the wearer to sweat heavily. We had used them back in North Carolina to drop weight quickly even though we knew it was unhealthy to risk dehydration that way. In New Jersey the suits were illegal but the wrestling managers seemed to have plenty of them in the back of the storage room.

Yeah,” I said simply.

When I got to the weigh-in room in the bowels of Boardwalk Hall there were a few other wrestlers already there. Apparently they had the same problem I had. After stepping on the scale they quickly dressed and left the room with worried but determined looks on their faces. The crinkling sound most of them made as they walked past me almost made me laugh. Almost. Like I was about to do, they were resorting to the rubber suit out of desperation. We all nodded sympathetically at each other. Once we were back on the mats we would no longer be comrades but in that room we were all united against a common, mechanical enemy.

When I stepped on the scale the news was even worse than I expected. I deliberately looked away but I knew I had a serious problem just by hearing the clank of the balance bar. I was more than five pounds over the limit and had about two hours and forty-five minutes to do something about it. I didn’t put my uniform or singlet on, knowing that anything I wore would soon be soaked with perspiration. Along with the rubber suit I donned a set of thick cotton sweats. Onto my head I pulled a knit ski cap to trap more heat. I threw my gym bag into a locker, snapped my combination lock into place, and crinkled out of the room.

I decided that I would divide my time between running laps, jumping rope and running the steps. After an hour, I was drenched with sweat but I fought the urge to rush back to the scale. If I was still over the limit I would have to put the sopping, smelly sweats back on. It would be best if I was done with them after the next time I took them off.

Nick and Coach Miles came in at eight o’clock and saw me running laps. I cut back across the mats to where they were standing, leaving a set of dusty footprints. “I take it you were over?” Coach asked.

“Yeah.” I didn’t see any point in lying about how bad the situation was. “Five pounds. I’ve got to be close now.”

“We’re heading over to weigh in now,” Nick said.

“I’m not quite ready,” I said. “Just go ahead without me.”

Coach was still dumbfounded. “How did you manage to be five pounds over?” I didn’t answer. The discouraged look on my face said it all and he didn’t press me.

With a half-hour to go I decided not to run any more steps because that was tiring me out too much. I knew by then that I had to be close and could sweat the rest off without working very hard. Just for good measure I planned to spend a few minutes in the bathroom before stepping on the scale to purge any weight I could in there. Twenty minutes later I resolved to run one more lap and then check my weight.

The weigh-in area was much more crowded than before. I squeezed through the crowd of wrestlers, many of whom were cramming food into their mouths after having made weight. It was hard to stay calm watching them eat, not knowing whether or not I too would make it. From my gym bag in the locker I pulled my wallet, which contained the paperwork I would need to weigh in. Then I did what most other wrestlers did. I got in line and removed clothing as I got closer to the scale. I was completely naked by the time it was my turn. After tossing my clothes to the side where they landed in a wet, steaming heap I handed my paperwork to the man behind the scale. He read the papers and set the scale accordingly. As gingerly as possible I stepped on, as if I didn’t want the scale to know I was there. The metal bar lurched from its resting position. In that split second experience told me that even if I wasn’t over the limit, I was definitely not under the limit either. I felt a sense of panic because I wasn’t sure how much more I could do if I hadn’t made it and there wasn’t much time left to do it.

The seconds seemed to be passing in slow motion. The bar slowed as it ascended, giving me hope. When it finally stopped I hadn’t heard the telltale sound of metal on metal. Maybe I was on weight. But there wasn’t any daylight showing between the bar and the restraint, either. Maybe I was still over.

The official bent towards the scale, squinted, and said “You’re okay.” As he scrawled his approval on my paperwork and passed it over to the table I’d never felt so relieved and thankful. It hadn’t been easy but I’d made the weight.

~~~

“I’m worried, Ben,” Coach said to me when I caught up with him and Nick.

“About me?”

“Yeah, you. I know you didn’t sleep much last night.” So he had heard me leaving the room after all. “Now, you had to work those pounds off. How did your weight get so bad? You’ve never done that before.”

“I ate some popcorn last night when I went out.”

“Five pounds of it? Are you alright? You must be tired.”

“Both. I’m alright but I’m also tired.”

“Look, you’ve got probably a couple hours before your match. Do you think you could sleep?”

“No, I’m way too nervous.”

“Why don’t you go back to the room? It’s a two minute walk. If you’re not back soon enough I’ll assume you fell asleep and I’ll come get you.”

I wasn’t sure if it was an order or not so I went along with his suggestion. I could hardly walk up the steps from the arena floor because I felt so worn out. It was going to be a real challenge to be ready to wrestle in two hours, especially against somebody with a record of 32 and 0.

As I walked along the concourse level I heard a familiar voice call my name. It was Judy, of course, and it looked as though she had been waiting for me in our meeting spot from the night before.

“Hi,” I said after I reached her.

“Are you okay?”

“Look, Judy, I’m sorry for being so nasty last night. I don’t know what else to say. I wish you hadn’t seen me like that.”

“It’s okay. There’s a lot going on.” She put her arm loosely around my waist and leaned her head against my chest the way she often did.

“I take it Craig’s not around?”

“Were you overweight this morning? I saw you running.”

“Yeah, about five pounds. You were here?”

“I called your room early. Nick told me you were over here so I came in and watched for a while. Can you really lose five pounds that fast?”

“It’s pretty sick, but yes. I did it. The worst part is that I’m beat now. Dead tired. Where’s Craig?”

“At his hotel, I guess. He’s a late sleeper. Ben, why did you say you wouldn’t be here next year? It’s all I’ve thought about since last night.”

“I may end up moving on. Same as how I came here.” I wondered how much she knew. She’d hardly batted an eye when Craig said what he said the night before about a friend at Duke.

“You just can’t go, Ben.”

“Judy, every time I try to reach out to you I get beat up. I’m tired of putting myself through it.”

“You might go back to North Carolina?” she asked. Maybe she didn’t know what Craig had been hinting about after all. Or maybe she didn’t want to know.

“Look, I really need to get ready for my match.”

“Okay,” she said, dejection on her face. “I know.”

“Will you be there?”

“Do you want me to be?”

“Very much. I’d like to know you’re out there.”

“Of course I’ll be there,” she said, brightening somewhat. “I would have anyway,” she said impishly. “Can we meet here after the match?”

“Even if I don’t win?”

“You’ll win,” she said with a smile. “But yes, either way.”

“It’s a date,” I said, and then I left the arena. I did return to our room in the hotel but I wasn’t able to sleep. Instead, I tried to prepare to wrestle. If Coach had turned up any scouting reports on Scheinhorn he hadn’t had a chance to share it with me. That meant I had no way to make any special preparations for this match. I’d just try to control the match as best I could and stay on the attack whenever possible. In other words, I’d do what I always did.

When I came back into Boardwalk Hall and made my way down to the floor the 152-pound quarterfinals were under way. I found Nick on the warm-up mats. “Hey,” I said.

“Hey,” he answered, pausing briefly from his drilling. He was probably surprised that I had interrupted his preparation.

“Wrestle smart, Nick. No body locks, right?”

He grimaced, recalling how he had been beaten in the region finals because of his failed body lock attempts. “I’m following your advice today. Keep it simple,” he said.

I had just been paid a serious compliment. Nick had won over 120 matches in his career and was the favorite to win the state championship. I was honored that he remembered my advice at all, let alone took it seriously.

When the 160-pound quarterfinals started I broke away from Nick to get ready for my own match. I felt a little better than before. Adrenaline must have washed away some of my fatigue. I did my usual stretching, keeping an eye on Nick and Coach who were on the floor awaiting a mat assignment. When his match was called on deck I joined them. As expected, Nick won easily by a score of 8-2. I thought he could have won by more but he was still pacing himself.

After congratulating Nick I stripped off my warm-ups and pulled my headgear out of my bag. Before long I was out on the mat with Scheinhorn. Coach Miles told me that he was good on his feet but that was all he had learned. It really wasn’t very enlightening. Any unbeaten wrestler had to be good on his feet. I nodded anyway, as if the information was useful. “Be patient,” a perspiration-covered Nick said as I walked out onto the mat. I shook hands with my opponent and then the match began.

Scheinhorn attacked me from the start. I didn’t surrender a takedown in the first minute but I was on the run for all of it. Then, after trying both upper body and leg attacks, he attempted a fireman’s carry and had all but pulled it off. He controlled my arm, reached deep through my crotch, and quickly pulled me across his shoulders. As he began to dump me onto the mat I somehow shifted my hips and grabbed him around the waist. After I landed I popped off the mat immediately, using the leverage I had from my tight-waist grip. Suddenly, being stretched across his shoulders was to my advantage. I cross-faced hard and was able to slide behind him for a two-point takedown. I had been completely out-wrestled up to that point and hardly knew how I had stopped the fireman’s carry attempt, but incredibly I had the lead. Scheinhorn had executed a perfect fireman’s carry and must have been wondering how in the world it had been me that scored instead of him.

My lead didn’t last long. I was unable to ride him and he escaped in seconds. Even before we had broken contact he scooped up my leg and scored with a textbook single-leg takedown. With the escape and takedown I trailed 3-2. There were still forty seconds left in the period and Scheinhorn was clearly not planning to kill the clock. He pulled my arm between my own legs with one hand, hooked the elbow of that arm with his other hand, and deftly tilted me long enough to earn two back points. After I twisted away I saw his head on my left. Instinctively I reached over and head-locked him. After the hold was in place I pulled him in front of me. I thought I had him tight enough to put him on his back but I just couldn’t make it happen. I did manage to stay on top as he rolled so I earned two points for a reversal just before the period ended. Although I had been beaten badly by Scheinhorn, I somehow trailed only by a single point. I wondered if he was thinking the same thing. It had been one of the wildest periods of the season for me.

Coach Miles called the referee over to the scorer’s table after the period ended. In a matter of seconds Scheinhorn’s coach joined them. It sounded like Miles was questioning the award of both an escape and a takedown to Scheinhorn early in the period rather than just a reversal. The same thing had crossed my mind but it was unlike my coach to protest a referee’s call so formally. I suspected that he knew I was tired after what I had gone through earlier and was trying to buy me some rest time.

After a minute the discussion ended and the referee returned to the center of the mat. I was given choice of starting positions, and I foolishly chose top. Coach Miles spread his arms with palms up in bewilderment about my choice when I looked over. He was right. I hadn’t been able ride Scheinhorn in the first period and yet I had put myself into position to be reversed again. It was nothing but a mental error. I was thinking bottom while signaling top.

I tried a spiral ride but he stood up and broke free after thirty seconds had passed. At that point I trailed 6-4. He tried again and again for another single leg takedown. I was fading fast and wondered how he was still so strong and fresh. It was all I could do to back away from his leg attacks. Suddenly he stepped in deep and grasped my legs in a tight double-leg hold which led to another takedown. When the period ended I trailed 8-4. Even worse than the four-point deficit was my realization that I was completely worn out. For the first time all year I wondered if I could even get through another period, much less make up the four points.

Scheinhorn had shown that I couldn’t ride him so I expected that he would choose the bottom position for the third period. Instead, he chose to start on his feet. That told me he didn’t think he needed the point for escaping that would put us in the neutral position. If it was a psychological ploy to intimidate me, it worked.

“Now you attack!” my corner yelled to me as the third period opened. I was so tired that I was hardly able to distinguish between the voices of Miles and Nick. “You’ve got to shoot Ben!” That time I knew it was Nick. I tried several half-hearted, powerless shots that Scheinhorn fended off easily. With a minute left I knew I had no chance to win and was only fighting to keep from being embarrassed. Scheinhorn went back to the fireman’s carry, which must have been his go-to move. This time I was unable to stop him although I did manage to stay off my back after he took me down. With thirty seconds to go I was behind by a score of 10-4 and my opponent had shown that he could score at will. He was taking me apart. I was hoping only to make it to the final buzzer.

At that point Scheinhorn slowed down markedly. Like Nick, he was apparently satisfied to win by decision and wanted to save himself for his next match, which would be the state semifinals. I was relieved. When the match ended I was so weak that I could hardly walk back to the center of the mat. I shook hands with Scheinhorn and stumbled back to my corner where Nick and Coach were waiting. “You did alright,” Coach said. “Forget about this one.”

We walked over into a tunnel and I collapsed onto a rolled up mat. Nick remembered my gym bag, which I had left on the mat, and he went back to retrieve it. I lay there on the mat, wondering if I would ever cool down and breathe normally again. “Running that weight off really took it out of you, I think,” Coach said, trying to console me.

He was right. I’d never been so fatigued all year and I had already known during the first period that I wouldn’t last. The truth was, though, that I didn’t think I could beat Scheinhorn under any conditions. He had demolished me in every way, and the four points I did score were all a fluke.

“You’re dehydrated, I’ll bet,” he remarked. “Do you have any Gatorade?”

I shook my head.

“We’ll pick some up. It won’t be long before you go again, now that you’re down in the consolation bracket,” he warned me. “You better get it together.”

That was the only way to handle an exhausted, discouraged wrestler. He could have coddled me but instead told me to keep pushing. We both knew that this grueling tournament would be over soon and going all-out the only way to approach it without having regrets later. It didn’t matter how badly I felt. He slapped me on the back and disappeared.

As soon as I was able to I picked myself up, put my warm-up jacket on and headed over to the bracket sheets. After a quick study I realized that Coach Miles had been right. I didn’t have very much time before my next match. While I had been losing in the quarterfinals, the losers from the pre-quarterfinal round had squared off in the first round of the consolation bracket. I would face a winner from that round at noon.

I remembered that I had agreed to meet Judy and so I dragged myself up the steps. The burns on my face were burning and stinging. I touched the cut next to my left eye and found a trace of blood on my fingertip. If Judy wasn’t at the meeting place I’d find a bathroom and clean myself up.

She was there. “Oh, Ben, are you okay?” she asked. She touched my face gently as if she could heal my wounds with her fingers.

“I probably look worse than I feel,” I said. It was a lie. “This one’s bleeding, isn’t it?” I asked, pointing to my left eye.

“Yeah, a little. Hold on, let me get something to clean it out.” She disappeared quickly before I had a chance to answer. I didn’t think she could do much to help but I liked the attention. She didn’t seem to be bothered by my sweat or blood. That has to mean something, I thought with a laugh.

She came back with a soapy paper towel. “Yikes. This is going to hurt isn’t it?”

“Maybe,” she said, looking up at me with a smile. “I have to take care of you, don’t I?” This was the affectionate Judy, as opposed to the frostier alter ego that she assumed when Craig was around. “You were tired out there weren’t you?” she asked as she dabbed at my wounds.

“I could hardly move,” I answered as I tried not to flinch from the sting. “I don’t think I could have beaten that guy anyway. He always knew what I was going to do.”

“That’ll be you next year. Ben, why did you say you won’t be here next year?”

For a fraction of a second I considered telling her everything right then and there. I was so confused about what I was doing and what she might already know that the truth might be the easiest way out. After I told her I could walk out on this life and I’d take Judy with me if she wanted to come. Whatever that meant.

“I said I might not be here.”

She nodded solemnly as she finished mopping up my wounds. “You’re still sweating, I can’t really clean these out as well as I should.”

“I’ll try to stop,” I said with a grin. “You really don’t have to do that.”

“So why would you leave?”

“Because of you.”

“Me?” She was putting on a good act but she had to know. This was just her way of drawing as much information from me as she could.

“Yeah. The way things are with us, I mean. It makes it hard for me to be here.”

She sighed. “Ben, can we go somewhere and talk?”

“Ordinarily I’d say no. Not during a tournament. But I could use the distraction.”

“When’s your next match?”

“In about ninety minutes. Let’s go back next door. There’s lots of places we could hang out. I want to put on my street clothes first. This singlet gets old quick.”

I probably should have tracked down Coach Miles to tell him where I was but it just didn’t fit into my plans, so I didn’t. I found a bathroom and changed out of my singlet and warm-ups and into the pair of jeans that were at the bottom of my gym bag. Then we walked through the passageway out of Boardwalk Hall and into Trump Plaza. We found an empty couch in a lounge area near the hotel check-in counter and settled in.

“So, you’re going back to North Carolina? After the school year?” Judy asked.

I shrugged. “I said I might.”

“I know I don’t have a right to say this,” she said. “But I’ll be really sad if you go.” She paused. “Now that I know you I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Look at it from my perspective,” I said. “It isn’t fun to always be the one who gets embarrassed.”

“I’ll do it,” she said. “If it’ll keep you here, then I have no choice.”

“Judy, don’t make me feel like I’m giving you an ultimatum because I’m not,” I protested. “You should do what you want.” I might leave anyway, I didn’t add. I might have to.

“That is what I want. I’m just, well, afraid.”

“Of what?”

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, I guess.”

The wrestling day had hardly begun but my tired body felt like it should have been over by then. When it looked like we were done talking I decided it was time to get back over to Boardwalk Hall. Nick wouldn’t wrestle his semifinal match until three o’clock, but of course my next match would be during the noon session. I felt like I should try to catch up with him and Coach. Judy walked back over to the arena with me. Halfway there she took my hand.

When we got to the concourse level it was time for us to go our separate ways. “You’ll stay for my match right?”

“Of course, silly.”

“Can we meet afterwards?”

“Sure,” she agreed. “I’ll meet you the usual spot.”

I walked down the concrete steps and onto the arena floor. After changing back into my uniform I glanced around looking for Coach and Nick. They weren’t around so I headed up to the warm-up mats to do some stretching. The time for my next match was approaching fast. Maybe I could make a better showing than I had the last time out.

Chapter 20

I wondered if Coach Miles would be angry that I disappeared after my loss to Scheinhorn but if he was he didn’t say anything about it. When I finally caught up with him all he wanted to talk about was my next opponent, Tim Austin of Red Bank Regional. Austin hadn’t lost all season until the night before when he had been beaten by third-seeded Mark Kovacs. Then he’d won his first consolation bracket match, earning the right to face me. “You’ve got to win this one, Ben,” Miles said. “This one will make your season. If you win, you’ve clinched top eight.”

As match time approached, I was feeling better than I had all day. Nick wasn’t around to warm up with because he was holed up somewhere preparing for his semifinal match. Coach said that he had heard that Austin didn’t do much on his feet. “Don’t worry about riding him. Just let him up if you have to. That won’t wear you out as much and you’re better from neutral position than you realize. I still don’t know how you got out of that fireman’s this morning.”

I still felt tired but not the same kind of fatigue I felt earlier. I knew that I would have no trouble sleeping when the time came but I felt like I had plenty of energy for the match and wouldn’t collapse again the way I had in the earlier match. Without knowing exactly what had changed, I felt confident again.

I stayed in the corner of the arena floor when my match was announced on deck. When there was only a minute remaining in the preceding match I began my deliberate walk to the mat with my head down and my game face on. Coach Miles met me there. After I checked in at the scorer’s table I trotted to my corner and stripped off my warm-ups. Coach worked on pumping me up while I pulled up my singlet and put my headgear on. “There’s no reason why you shouldn’t pin this kid. He’s only a tenth-grader, and he’s got to be shaken up after what Kovacs did to him. Put him away. He’ll be scared.”

If Austin wasn’t good on his feet I decided that I would try to convince him early that I was. Within thirty seconds I had taken him down nearly to his back with a double-leg. Before he had a chance to stabilize his position I moved up his body. I inserted the reverse-half that I was becoming more and more fond of, and went chest to chest. I under-hooked the far arm to restrict his ability to roll out of the pinning combination. After the referee had counted off three back points Austin managed to turn back to his stomach. I had built a 5-0 lead.

I heard Coach yelling for me to “Cut him!” I looked over and saw that Nick was saying the same thing. It seemed premature and risky but I followed their advice and released Austin. With forty-five seconds remaining in the period I led 5-1. I had given up a point voluntarily and I was determined to make it up by scoring a takedown.

I went back to the leg attacks that had served me well earlier in the match. Before I could take a decent shot Austin attempted a double-leg shot of his own. Without much difficulty I sprawled and worked my way behind for another takedown and two more points. I looked over into my corner for advice. Nick pointed to the clock, which indicated that there were twenty seconds left. “Stay there,” he yelled. That’s what I tried to do, but Austin had other ideas. He stood up hard and broke my tight waist grip, escaping for a point at the buzzer.

I had a 7-2 lead entering the second period. Austin had choice of positions and chose bottom. It wasn’t long before he escaped by standing up and breaking free. All of a sudden he had stitched three escapes together and my lead was down to 7-3. I didn’t panic, knowing that I had already taken him down twice. I showed him a different look, moving side to side rather than directly at him as I had done before. I set him up by faking to his left and then shot in for a single leg on his right side. I picked the leg up high, forcing him to hop backwards. We were on the edge of the mat and I knew he would try to hop out of bounds. I maneuvered until my own back was to the boundary line, with his to the center, and then I simply ran at his free leg towards the center of the mat until he fell backwards. When I moved up from the leg the referee awarded another takedown to me.

After that takedown I led 9-3. I was willing to let him up again if I was in danger but I wanted to try to turn him over for more back points while at the same time eating up some time. I came out to the side and managed to lock him up in a cradle, which was easy because he was still in a seated position. My hands weren’t locked close to his chin, though, the way I liked, and I wasn’t able to turn him to his back. He was slowly working his way out of my awkward cradle so with fourteen seconds remaining I felt I had no choice but to release him again. He had scored four points, all on escapes. The period ended with me in the lead, but only by 9-4. I was controlling the match but the outcome was far from being decided.

I didn’t have a strong feeling about what position to choose for the third period. I hadn’t been on bottom yet and so it was risky to choose that because for all I knew Austin was good on top. I didn’t want to choose top because I hadn’t been able to ride him and the only back-points I had scored had come directly off a takedown. By default then, I chose to start in neutral position. After I’d made the decision on my own I looked over at Coach, who had been signaling for me choose neutral all along.

As the third period unfolded Austin wrestled with a surprising lack of urgency. He was trailing by five and the clock was ticking away. I didn’t sense that he was tiring and it looked increasingly like he would try for a jackpot takedown with back points to tie the score. I didn’t want to give him that opportunity so I worked hard for another takedown myself. I took a few shots, sometimes taking a leg momentarily, but he was suddenly adept at eluding those. He tried a few shots at my legs but didn’t commit to them, and I decided he was just trying to set me up for something else.

When there was one minute left he switched tactics, just as I had expected. Instead of shooting he tried to tie up. My guess was that he would go for a headlock. We pummeled as each of us tried to take the inside position with our arms. I didn’t like the tie up and managed to push him out of bounds for a new start. When he again tried for tie up I shot underneath his reach for a double-leg. I was in deep enough to pick him up and dump him onto the mat for another takedown. There were only thirty seconds remaining and I held a safe 11-4 lead.

Again I had difficulty riding him and again I did the safe thing by releasing him. By the time I had backed into the center circle the match had ended. It had been far more difficult than we expected but I had clinched a top eight finish with an 11-5 victory. Nick and Coach slapped my back and voiced their approval as I stumbled off the mat. “That was ugly,” I gasped.

“That’s the way to come back from a tough loss,” Miles said approvingly.

“Nothing ugly about any win here, Ben,” Nick said. “You wrestled a good match.”

“He’s only lost twice all year,” Coach reminded me. “Now, that is.”

“Yeah, ugly-shmugly,” Nick said.

“Now it’s your turn,” I said to Nick as I tried to catch my breath. “One more win and you’re in the finals. This is why we came.” All three of us knew what I meant. Nick had entered high school as a highly touted wrestler. Amazingly, this was the third time he’d reached the state semifinals. He’d already been this far twice and if he failed here his season would be a bust. So would his career, as a matter of fact. I wanted to remind him of this. The stakes were high.

“I’m ready,” he said confidently. His match was a couple of hours away, during the three o’clock session. I told him I’d track him down when the semifinal round started just in case he wanted to roll around or needed me for anything else. Coach Miles seemed pleased at that. I knew Nick had never bonded with anybody on the team the way he had with me. In fact, as recently as January he seemed to resent my growing influence and hadn’t taken kindly to advice from me. I got the impression from other guys on the team that Nick had always been arrogant and distant toward his teammates and that may have backfired on him when he needed some camaraderie. Maybe, Coach told me, the support of a teammate like me could finally put him over the top.

I was excited about beating Austin and also about seeing Judy. I sat down on some rolled up mats and mopped the sweat off my face with my t-shirt before putting it on. I also put my warm-up pants on and switched from wrestling shoes to sneakers before heading for the meeting point. When I got there I was startled at who was there waiting for me.

Judy was there, of course. Also there was Karen, who I hadn’t seen since yesterday. To Karen’s right were the three people I least wanted to see: Craig and Judy’s parents. I couldn’t imagine what had brought the Voorsts to Atlantic City. That worried me. If somebody was up to something, I didn’t know which of them it was. It could have been any of them.

As usual, it was Karen who spoke first. “Good job, Ben. You looked awesome!”

“Thanks. It wasn’t pretty but I’ll take it.” Seeing Craig looking so uncomfortable gave me a boost. He looked like he couldn’t think of anything to say. This moment was mine and there was nothing he could do about it, unless he started talking about a friend in North Carolina.

“Yeah,” agreed Mr. Voorst. “That’s right. Congratulations.”

“I just can’t get over how rough this sport is,” Mrs. Voorst said. No doubt she was reacting to my face, which was dotted with mat burns and a trace of blood here and there. “Every time I see you it looks like you just got beat up. Is it hard being all alone out there in front of so many people?” Was she warming up to me?

“That was the biggest crowd that ever watched me. I get nervous at first but I forget about it once the match starts.”

Neither Judy nor Craig had said a word yet. I wondered what if something had happened between them.

“Say Ben, we’ll be having dinner over at the Trop later,” said Mr. Voorst. “Can you join us?”

I immediately suspected that Mr. Voorst and Craig were trying to trap me again. I was doing well in the state tournament so they probably felt a need to take me down a few pegs. It didn’t matter anyway. There was no way dinner could work for me that night.

“Thanks Mr. Voorst,” I said as politely as possible. “But I still have to make weight in the morning.”

“He had to lose five pounds in two hours this morning,” Judy said, exaggerating only slightly.

“Nothing to be proud of,” I said. “I got careless and I paid for it.”

“Did you have to watch your weight that way all season long?” asked Mrs. Voorst.

“Remember what he ate at your brunch?” Karen reminded her. “Nothing.”

“I’ll be glad when I can eat again,” I said as I wiped at a bead of sweat that rolled down the side of my face.

I knew Craig would have to chime in because things were going my way, and I was right. “You’re going to miss a world class dinner for this?” he said, derisively waving his hand toward the mats on the arena floor. “I don’t get it.”

“What are you going to have accomplished by this time tomorrow, Craig?” I asked him.

He looked surprised that I jabbed back. “Whatever,” he said. “To each his own.” This round goes to Ben Pietrak, I thought to myself. Oops, Petrovic, I mean.

It didn’t look like I’d get any quality time with Judy so I didn’t see any reason to hang around. If Judy didn’t care, why should I? “Anyway,” I said, “my teammate has an important match. I better get going.” I picked up my ever-present gym bag.

“I’ll walk you over,” Judy said quickly.

“You didn’t need to walk with me,” I said after we were away. “Now they’ll all be waiting around for you.”

She took hold of my arm as we walked, which surprised me because we weren’t very far from her friends and family. I was absolutely certain that they were watching and that they saw what Judy had done.

“I told him I wanted to talk later,” Judy whispered, as if we were still within earshot of Craig.

“You did?”

“Yup. It was hard.”

“What are you going to say?”

“I haven’t really decided,” she admitted. “I was hoping something would come to me but it hasn’t yet.”

“Judy,” I began.

“Yes?”

“You don’t have to do this, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

I thought for a second. “I’m not sure. I guess I mean that you should do what you want to do. I don’t even know what that is.”

“Thanks,” she said sarcastically. “I thought for a second that you were giving me some magic words or an easy way out.”

There was going to be trouble if she went through with it. Not just for Judy but for me. Craig knew something and after she rejected him he wasn’t going to sit quietly. Things were going to happen. Things that were probably bad for me. But that didn’t mean Judy shouldn’t stand up for herself. It just meant that I might have to disappear without warning. Should I tell her that? “I’m here for you Judy, don’t forget,” I said without elaborating. “Okay?”

“I’m glad. That’s why I’m doing it.” By then we’d walked all the way down to the arena floor. “I really can’t stand the idea of you going back to North Carolina. I’m not sure this will stop you, anyway. I know it isn’t just about me.”

What did she mean by that? “Will I see you later?”

“I have a feeling I’ll need that. I’m not sure about our schedule. What time will your match be?”

“Probably some time around five,” I guessed.

“Okay. Even if you don’t see me, I’ll be there. I have your room number. I’ll call and leave a message about where I’ll be later, okay?”

“Okay. But keep it G-rated, Coach and Nick will probably hear it,” I said with a smirk.

“Ben!” she replied, in mock horror. “Tell Nick good luck,” she said as she turned and left.

Chapter 21

Mark Kovacs, my next opponent, was a senior from Grover’s Mill near Princeton. Kovacs had been a high seed but had been upset in the quarterfinals by my nemesis, Ken Brown. We headed over to mat four when I was announced on deck. On the other side of the mat I saw my opponent, who was stocky and very short. From a distance he didn’t look big enough to be a 171-pounder at all. “Work up high,” Nick suggested after seeing him. “He’s probably tough to shoot on.”

“Ken Brown beat him easily,” Coach said. “8-0.” He was telling me that because only a week earlier I had beaten Brown in the region finals. That was no guarantee that I could beat Kovacs but it wasn’t unreasonable to think that I could win.

I nodded as we waited. When the match on mat four ended I removed my warm-ups, snapped my headgear on and reported to the scorer’s table. Seconds later I was at the center of the mat and the match began.

It was immediately apparent that Kovacs was freaky strong. Following Nick’s advice, I reached to tie up. If I could work an upper body move I thought I could get his feet off the mat, greatly diminishing his ability to resist.

When I tried to tie up he sprang into action. Apparently he had been timing my lunges. He under hooked both my arms and pushed himself backwards and down toward the mat, using my own momentum against me. As he landed on the mat he hooked my legs with his, and tried to kick my entire body over his head. He was trying an unconventional takedown that I seen only once before. I’m sure it had other names but I knew it as a ‘huckleberry.’

For a fraction of a second it felt like I would indeed be catapulted over my opponent’s body and onto my back, which was the intent of the move. I forced my body to go limp in an attempt to slow my own momentum. At the last possible moment all motion stopped. Now I was in a strong position because Kovacs was on his own back. I was able to keep him there long enough to earn three back points before he was able to scramble out of danger. His gamble had failed and as a result I had a 5-0 lead.

Kovacs chose bottom for the second period. As I crouched down to assume the top position I realized how tired I was. It had been a long day for me. I couldn’t imagine riding Kovacs for long, let alone turning him to his back. I decided that I would take advantage of my five point lead and cut him as soon as he came close to reversing me.

After thirty seconds I let him go and backpedaled toward the center of the mat. Kovacs tried the element of surprise again. As I moved backwards he shot at me, skimming along the surface of the mat. He grasped my right ankle and stood up with it. As a result of his clever quick-shot I was in serious danger. I didn’t think he could lift the leg high enough to topple me and that isn’t what he tried. Instead, he simply ran at my other leg until I was unable to support myself. As we went down he covered and was awarded a two-point takedown. The period ended after that with no more scoring. I was clinging to a 5-3 lead. All my points had come not on my own initiative but as a result of his early gamble. Kovacs was clearly a wrestler who liked taking chances. He didn’t look worried at all about giving up those points as a result of the risk he took. That made me worry.

When the final period began Kovacs immediately began working on my head. He maintained a tight grip around my waist with his right hand but came out to the side and cross-faced me with his left forearm. I knew what was happening. He sensed that I was panicking and was trying to beat on me to try to break my will. I heard Coach Miles protesting the repeated cross-faces but of course it made no difference. Kovacs was hurting me but he wasn’t breaking any rules. I had thought that my nose and face were completely healed but after Kovacs worked on them the same pain was back. If I had a free hand I would have checked for blood.

I reached out and took his forward leg. If nothing else, maybe I could force a stalemate. When I reached for the leg Kovacs must have seen an opening. He grabbed my arm at the elbow, took my head and wrenched me onto my back in a headlock. After the referee had counted off back points for my opponent I was behind by a score of 6-5.

I tried not to panic. Ironically, the headlock I found myself in helped to settle me down. Both my ears were blocked so everything went deathly quiet. I could hear only my own heart beating and the air rushing in and out of my lungs, which was somehow soothing.

I had given up back points but the headlock wasn’t very tight. There was never any danger of my being pinned. I could feel that Kovacs was too far up towards my head because he had gone all-out for the pin, and that created some room. Slowly but steadily I twisted off my back and onto my knees but I was unable to extricate my head. I grabbed him around the waist and slowly pulled myself behind him. He was still in control, but barely. If I could pop my head out I would receive two points for a reversal. Not being able to hear was a real disadvantage. There couldn’t be much time left in the match. I was sure my coach was calling out the time for my benefit but I couldn’t hear a thing. I tried to look around for the scoreboard but I couldn’t move my head enough to find it.

I tugged and tugged but couldn’t get my head out. Fighting panic, I thought of something else I could try. Kovacs was in a sitting position. I released the tight-waist grip and moved my hands as close to his shoulders and armpits as possible. After grabbing everything I could I thrust my body backwards, feet first, pulling him toward his back. It didn’t matter that I was unable to expose his back enough for points. He was forced to release my head so he could stave off my surprise attack. Once my head was free I re-applied the tight-waist grip and was promptly awarded a two-point reversal, giving me a 7-6 lead.

It was only then that I got a look at the scoreboard and realized how close I had come to being beaten. There were only eight seconds left. I grabbed his ankle and held on tight. When the final buzzer went off I let go and rolled onto my back. I was exhausted and knew I had been out-wrestled. I was lucky to have won.

Nick and Coach acted as though I had wrestled well but I didn’t feel very good about anything. I pushed past them, grabbed my gear and disappeared. After a few minutes of sulking in the hallway I walked up to where Judy and I usually met. She wasn’t there. I was exhausted, sore and sucking air. My face was raw and burning after spending so much time in the clutches of a headlock. I could feel several new scrapes along my neck and jaw, probably from my struggle to pull my head out. Red-faced and shirtless, I slid down the concourse wall into a seated position. Most of the people who passed by carrying sodas and hotdogs looked at me while they kept a respectful distance. About fifteen minutes went by and still Judy didn’t appear. I gave up and headed back down to the arena floor to rejoin Coach and Nick. It couldn’t be too much longer before Nick’s semifinal match.

Before looking for them I headed for the weigh-in room. I checked my weight and was relieved that I was less than a pound over the limit. While I waited for Nick’s match I intended to burn off some calories so that making weight would be less of a problem in the morning. After re-packing my bag I returned to the floor and worked up a good sweat drilling moves on the warm-up mats while watching for my coach and teammate. I finally found Nick jumping up and down next to the rolled up wrestling mats in the tunnel we had adopted as home base.

“Hey Nick,” I said. He nodded at me but didn’t say anything. I understood perfectly. Right then he was all about his match. To distract him before he invited it would violate an unwritten code. I pulled my rope out and did a few hundred jumps to keep my sweat going. My new wounds stung with the fresh perspiration but I ignored it.

When the 145-pound semifinals started Nick asked me to come over to the warm-up mats with him to roll around. He seemed sharp as he practiced single and double-leg attacks on me. After that he tied up and worked through a front-headlock series that I really didn’t know anything about except that it didn’t feel good on my sore, stiff neck. When he paused to stretch his leg muscles I felt like it was safe to talk. “Do you know much about this guy?” I asked simply. He was facing Billy Grimm from Yardville High School.

“He beat me one to nothing over the summer. It was at camp at Blair. I came close to taking him down a few times but I couldn’t finish.”

“Your shots look sharp,” I said encouragingly.

“Thanks. That’s what I had trouble with against him with over the summer but I’ll try again.”

By then Coach had spotted us and had wandered over. “How’s he feeling?” he asked me when Nick moved away to practice his shots alone.

“Seems a little nervous. He says this kid beat him last summer.”

“Yeah, he mentioned that to me too.”

“He’s been this far twice before, right Coach?”

“Yeah. He got to the semis when he was a freshman and then he did it again last year.”

“We’ve got to make sure it doesn’t happen again. Losing in the semis, I mean,” I said.

“Tell him. If he’s moping about this kid he probably needs a kick in the butt. We’ll regret not pushing him if he loses.”

That was exactly what I was thinking but there was a fine line between motivating him and simply reminding him of past failures. I ambled over and sat down next to where he was again stretching his legs. “You’ve already been this far before. Don’t let this kid end it for you,” I told him. “If you don’t win this one you might as well have stayed home.”

“I hear you,” he said. “I’m going for it. If I have to I’ll just go nuts. He’ll never be able to ride me. If I look clueless just yell ‘Go nuts’ at me.”

“Good man,” I said. “All he could do against you last summer was one escape. Don’t stop moving out there, okay? This is your last chance. None of that risky stuff, alright?” It was enough and I knew to move away. It felt like I may have gotten too personal. Then again, I didn’t tell him anything he didn’t know. If he failed again the last thing he’d care about was what I had said to him in the tunnel before the match.

“Good work, Ben,” Coach said after we were out of earshot of Nick. Apparently he’d heard every word. “You’re the kind of teammate he never had before. I think you’re the difference for him this year.”

“It’s his own fault. He doesn’t give anybody a chance. But I hope I didn’t go too far.”

“You did it just right. That’s the kind of thing he needs to hear, and better from a teammate than from a coach. How’s your weight?” he asked, remembering what I had gone through this morning.

“Less than one over before this,” I said, holding my jump rope up. “I plan to be on weight before I leave tonight. Then I can probably eat something. Hey, I was wondering. What do they call that takedown Kovacs tried on me?”

He smiled. “I was about to ask you. We used to show something like that and we called it a ‘cobra.’ It was a little different. He had under-hooks on both arms, right?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure he did. I used to call that a ‘huckleberry’ where I come from.”

“Hmm, let me think. The cobra was what we used to do but I don’t think we used the under-hooks.”

“Who names these moves anyway?” I asked, smiling. It was a nice break from the tension.

When the time came I followed Coach and Nick into our corner on the mat. It turned out that whatever we had said to him had worked. He was motivated and prepared. In the first period he scored twice on single-leg takedowns and led 4-1. He worked relentlessly in the second period until he escaped for a point. In the third period they traded reversals. When the match ended in a 7-3 victory for Nick there was no containing his excitement. He popped up and ran a victory lap around the edge of the mat before reporting back to the center. With a record of 31-1, he had finally made it to the state finals. I wondered silently how he could top that celebration if he won again the next day in the finals.

The three of us had a group hug before we turned the mat corner over to the new occupants. Nick pulled on some heavy sweats and joined me in trying to burn off some weight. “You kicked butt Nick,” I told him over the snap of our jump ropes on the warmup mats. “Do it again tomorrow, right?”

“I feel pretty good about it. This was the one I was worried about.”

“We could tell.”

When the heavyweights started we headed to the scales. The news was good for both of us. I was about a quarter-pound over and he was a half-pound under. All we had to do is control our eating that night and weigh-ins would be a breeze the next morning. It had been a good day for us in Boardwalk Hall despite my weight trouble in the morning. The three of us walked back to the hotel in silence. Suddenly we were all pretty tired.

Nick collapsed into a chair as soon as we entered the room. I decided I really needed a shower. I had been sweating all day and my mat burns needed to be washed out. I stayed in the shower for twenty-five minutes until I was sure I was clean. My burns were stinging from the soap but it was a good clean sting.

The phone was ringing as I emerged from the steamy bathroom wrapped in a towel. Nick picked it up. I knew who it was even before he handed the receiver to me. “Hello?” I said.

“Ben? It’s me, Judy. I’m in the lobby, can you come down?”

“Yeah, sure. Where?”

“The same place we were this afternoon.”

I hung up and told Coach that I was going to meet her downstairs for a little while. He didn’t look pleased but nodded his consent. He was probably put off by my independent behavior this weekend. I pretty much came and went as I pleased between matches. As I quickly put on jeans and a sweatshirt I realized that I’d been lucky he’d been so patient with me.

I had trouble finding Judy because she wasn’t where she said she was. I rode an escalator to a lower level where several gaudy chandeliers hung and finally found her sitting in a small lounge area. She hadn’t sounded upset on the phone but as soon as I saw her I knew it had been an act. Her eyes were red, her nose was running and her face was tear-streaked. As soon as she saw me she began crying again. “I was here when you guys passed by earlier,” she said, “but I didn’t want anybody to see me. Did Nick win?”

“Yeah, he won,” I said as I sat down next to her and pulled her into me. “What happened, Judy?”

“I told him,” she sobbed. “I told him that I wanted to stop seeing him just before we went for dinner.”

She had done it. I wasn’t sure that she could do it but she had. “How did he take it?”

“You mean after he realized I was serious? He laughed at me at first. He got mad when he saw I wasn’t kidding around.”

“What did he do?”

“He got loud. He asked if this was about you and I told him it was. Then my dad figured out what was going on and he started in on me.”

“Craig hardly said a word after that,” she continued after wiping her nose with a sleeve. “He didn’t have to. Dad just went on and on, yelling at me right in front of everybody! It was so embarrassing that I got up and left.”

“Was this at dinner?” I asked, wondering how it had been so public.

“Before and during,” she said. “This all happened like an hour ago, maybe a little more.”

After a minute of silence I looked up and saw what I already knew was coming. It was just a little sooner than I expected. Craig and the Voorsts were wandering through the lobby, obviously looking for us. They must have remembered that I was staying at Trump Plaza and guessed that Judy would go there. We had made it easy by sitting in the lobby near the boardwalk entrance. I didn’t care. If there was going to be a showdown that was as good a place and time as any. So they knew I wasn’t afraid I waved until they saw me. I let them get close enough to see Judy with her face buried in my shoulder before I alerted her. “Here they come.” I felt her body stiffen.

When they reached us none of them even bothered to acknowledge my presence. Craig reached over and patted Judy on the shoulder. “Judy?” he said.

“Leave her alone!” I said firmly. “She’s had enough for now. Leave her alone!”

“This isn’t any of your business,” Craig said.

By then Judy had untangled herself from me and sat up. Craig was right up against the couch and wasn’t giving me much room to stand up but he forgot he was dealing with a wrestler. I leaned forward to stand and deftly slid to my right where there was more room, stepping over his feet gracefully as I did it. For good measure I purposely bumped him as I came to my feet. We were literally toe-to-toe. “It is my business,” I told him.

I knew this wouldn’t spiral into a fistfight. Craig was smarter than that. Mr. Voorst, who probably knew it as well, nevertheless went through the motions of breaking up a fight. It would make Craig look braver than he actually was. “Back off, both of you,” he commanded. I didn’t move but I kept my mouth shut. I didn’t like Mr. Voorst much but at the moment my beef was with Craig. “Ben, this may be how you resolve disputes in your sports world but we’re not going to do that here.”

“Nobody’s going to push her around anymore,” I said.

Craig, who probably got tired of my towering over him, moved away and sat by Judy on the couch in the spot that I’d been in. “Judy, what’s this all about? We’ve talked about this.” I turned to watch. Would Judy stand her ground?

“You heard what I said before,” she told him.

“And you’re hitching your wagon to this meathead?” he asked in exasperation. “You know how it turns out for guys like this.”

“Guys like what, Craig?” I asked. “You’ve got it all figured out? Let’s hear it.”

“Please,” he said, as if that was enough to shut me up.

“No, I insist.”

“You don’t even know what you’ll be doing six months after you finish high school,” he declared. “But I do. I know how guys like you end up. We talked about this last week, don’t you remember? Judy needs somebody better than that. She deserves better.”

To everybody else it probably looked like the scene at Sunday’s disastrous brunch all over again. I knew better, and Craig probably did too. We were playing a dangerous game. So far he hadn’t played all his cards so I had to be careful. “Calm down and give her a chance to breathe,” I said.

“You’re going to be out of the picture real soon one way or another,” Craig said hotly. His face had taken on that maniacal expression that I was learning to recognize. “I know all about you, Tarheel. So back off! None of this is going to matter for you.” He turned smugly back to Judy when he saw the look on my face. “Judy, what about all the plans we’ve talked about?”

“We never made plans, Craig,” she said. “You did. It was always all about you. You’ve never cared about what I want or what I’m interested in. How many times have you ever asked me about what’s going on in my life? Have you ever bothered to come see me act?”

“High school is such crap. I thought I’d give you an escape from it.”

“I’m in high school!” she said, raising her voice for the first time. In fact, I guessed that it was probably the first time she had raised her voice in her life when she wasn’t on a stage.

“Judy,” Mr. Voorst said. “Take a deep breath. You and Craig have been through a lot together.”

“Why are you so sure about everything?” Judy asked her father. “Just because you didn’t get along with guys like Ben when you were in high school?”

“I think everybody needs to cool down,” said Mrs. Voorst.

“I agree,” I volunteered.

“We’ll have to sort this out later,” Craig said.

“It’s already sorted,” I said.

“Let’s go gamble,” Mrs. Voorst said to her husband.

Mr. Voorst sighed. “Alright. Judy, what are you going to do?”

“I’m staying here.”

There was nothing for Mr. Voorst to do but admit defeat and walk away. Call us later,” Mrs. Voorst said to Judy. “Okay?”

“Sure, Mom.”

Craig had no idea what to do. He lingered a few steps behind the Voorsts but suddenly whirled and stalked back to me. “You and I have unfinished business!” he fumed, pointing a finger at me. “You have my word on that.” The finger came very close to my chest.

“You don’t want to touch me. Trust me on this one.”

I could see the wheels turning in his head. If he jabbed me, something that I think he was considering, he had to know he was in for trouble. Even a pompous jerk like him could see that.

“Get out of here, hothead,” I said. “Be a man for once.”

“Your days are numbered, loser. I’m just about there,” he snapped angrily as he withdrew the finger and began walking away. He stomped in the direction of the Voorsts, who were watching Craig’s finger from across the lobby with horror. Mr. Voorst stared over at me while Mrs. Voorst and Craig disappeared through a doorway. I stared right back.

“I’m sorry I got so crazy, Judy,” I said after they were all gone. “I’m a little embarrassed.” She didn’t answer. “Do you want to go outside?”

She nodded silently. I took her hand and we wound through the growing crowds until we saw the glass doors that led out to the boardwalk. It was cold and windy out there but it felt good after what had just happened. When were in front of Boardwalk Hall we took shelter in the colonnade across from the entrance.

“What will you do about your dad and Craig?”

“I think I did the hard part. Now I just need to stick to my guns.”

“Craig can be stubborn,” I remarked. “Will he leave you alone?”

“I don’t know.” She looked me in the eye. “Ben, be careful. Please. I don’t know what he’ll do.”

“Where will you go tonight?”

“I still have my room on the mainland, remember? Karen had to go home this morning but we still have the room. I’ll just go there. I don’t want to be around my parents right now.”

“I wish you could stay here with me,” I said without thinking.

She smiled. “I wish I could, too.”

“Can we go back inside?” I asked. “I’m getting cold.”

“Me too,” she said. I led her back through the foot traffic on the boardwalk and we re-entered Trump Plaza. I hoped that we wouldn’t run into any of her family.

“It’s after nine o’clock,” she said. “Don’t you need to get your rest?”

“Yeah, especially today,” I agreed. “It’s been a really long day. In lots of different ways.”

“Tell me about it,” she said, rolling her eyes. “What time do you wrestle tomorrow?”

“In the nine and twelve o’clock sessions. Win or lose, I wrestle twice. It’s just a matter of placing third, fourth, fifth or sixth now.”

“I’m so proud of you when you’re out there.”

“I’m glad, Judy. Most people don’t think very much of what I do,” I answered.

“I’ll be back in the morning, okay?”

I pulled her closer and kissed her, this time on the lips. It was our most passionate kiss yet. I didn’t want it to end and it seemed that she didn’t either. When it finally did she pulled away to leave.

“Be careful, okay?” I said.

“You’re so sweet, Ben,” she said, touching me on the cheek. “Get some rest,” she said, and then she was gone.

Chapter 22

After saying goodbye to Judy I went directly back to the hotel room. Coach was asleep on top of the covers but Nick was laying awake on the couch bed. The light wasn’t even turned off. “Nick, you didn’t leave the light on for me did you?” I asked. “You should be sleeping.”

He laughed. “I’m not ready to sleep yet. Would you believe I’m not even nervous?”

It was hard to believe, considering that he would be wrestling in the state finals in just a few hours. “You sleep on the bed tonight, alright?” I said. “You have more important business than I do tomorrow and I had the bed last night anyway.”

“We could always roll him onto the couch,” Nick said, jabbing his thumb through the air towards our sleeping leader. “Yeah, I would like the bed if you wouldn’t mind.” I was struck by how unguarded he was around me. I knew I’d become his closest friend.

“Definitely,” I agreed. We talked for a few minutes but neither of us wanted to think about wrestling. Maybe we were just burned out or maybe we were both realizing at the same time that there was only so much mental preparation you could do.

When I woke up the next morning I had an uncomfortable lack of confidence about winning any matches that day. I would be up against some of the best wrestlers I’d ever faced. The first match would be against Tracy Strothmann from Passaic River. I had watched Strothmann manhandle his first three opponents in the tournament. How he had ended up in the consolation bracket was a frightening thought that I didn’t want to pursue.

On that last morning of the season I didn’t feel the same drive or motivation that had carried me through the long season. On the contrary, I felt more like the tentative wrestler I used to be, looking for reasons why I had no chance to win. There were so many reasons for me to be thinking about things besides wrestling. It appeared that my past was about to catch up with me, for one thing. Judy was obviously on my mind as well. For the moment, though, it was the wrestling that had me puzzled. Why didn’t I care anymore?

Was it because I had achieved my goal without even realizing it? I was still competing in Atlantic City on the last day of the state tournament. I had become a member of an elite group. Was that the satisfaction that I’d been searching for since I’d thrown that match away in the regional tournament back home a year earlier? Except for staying out of legal trouble, wrestling had been all I cared about when I left North Carolina. Now that burning desire was gone. It wasn’t that I didn’t care how that day’s matches turned out. I wanted to win. I knew, though, that I would finish no lower than sixth in the state and that felt like it was enough.

Nick was still loose and cheerful when he woke up. That was surprising in light of the pressure he was under. It would be his last chance to finally live up to all the acclaim. If he lost he would always be remembered as an underachiever.

We were both awake early so we stole over to Boardwalk Hall for weigh-ins before Coach Miles even woke up. When we returned to the hotel Coach was in the shower. After all three of us were ready there was still time to go out for a light breakfast.

The first session at Boardwalk Hall would begin at nine o’clock. Nick wouldn’t wrestle until the finals session in the afternoon but I would wrestle in the first and second sessions. We walked over to the arena and I changed into my uniform for the last time. Both before and after changing I slipped up the steps to the concourse location where Judy and I had met so often over the past few days. She wasn’t there either time. After I stretched and warmed up some with Nick I sneaked back up but again she wasn’t there. It was still early and she had to drive over from the mainland. I had no right to expect her to be there as early as I was. I’d have to be satisfied with seeing her after my first match.

“You go after him Ben!” was the last thing Coach Miles said to me before I walked onto the mat to face Strothmann. After thirty seconds I knew that this was the best wrestler I’d ever gone up against. He didn’t fall for any of my setups and before I had taken a shot he scored on a double-leg takedown. I struggled to break free but couldn’t twist out of the tight-waist grip he had on me. When he began pushing down on my head while coming out in front of me I knew what he was trying to do but I couldn’t stop him. I felt my neck stretch painfully and then I was on my back. I had avoided being pinned all season and I desperately fought to preserve that by keeping my shoulder blades off the mat. After what seemed an eternity had passed the buzzer sounded. I was exhausted and in pain, and I was behind 5-0.

Strothmann was wrestling with an intensity that I couldn’t match. As soon as the whistle blew to start the second period he threw a leg in, hooking mine. Before I could work a counter he reached across my back, took my far arm, and pulled it behind his head. He was attempting what I knew as a ‘can-opener.’ My shoulder was already being wrenched painfully but unless I could stop him I knew the pain would soon be even more excruciating.

He kept the leg in position and levered my arm and back towards the mat. I grunted helplessly as the pain ratcheted up. Seconds later as I grimaced and struggled, the referee began counting off back points. One of my shoulders was flat and the other was moving closer and closer to the mat but all I could think about was the pain. When the referee slapped the mat to end the match I was hardly even aware of it. I lay there dazed as Strothmann leaped up and pumped his fist through the air.

After over thirty matches since the season began I finally had one I was ashamed of. Not because I didn’t win, not even because I was pinned, but because I wasn’t sure if I had tried hard enough. When Strothmann put me in the can-opener and began to lay the hurt on me I had folded quickly. I had a disturbing revelation as I climbed to my feet after the pin. The relief that the match was over outweighed the disappointment of losing. I had lost my edge.

There was little opportunity for that type of reflection because there was no spare time for the wrestlers in the consolation bracket. Unlike Nick and the other finalists, who had plenty of time for rest and preparation, consolation matches were being stacked on the schedule as quickly as they could be wrestled. I would wrestle again within two hours and so would Strothmann. He would face Ken Brown in a match that would decide who placed third. I would wrestle for fifth place.

I flexed my sore shoulder trying to loosen it up as we walked away from the mat. “You can still take fifth, Ben. There’s no shame in that,” Coach Miles said. “You’ll be set up for next year too.”

“I want to walk around some,” I said. “I’ll be back down here in an hour, okay?” I asked my coach. He had made me uncomfortable by talking about the next season.

What I really wanted to do was see Judy. I hadn’t seen her since the previous night. Until then I’d been pretty sure that we’d agreed to meet at our usual spot but now I couldn’t actually remember. I walked up the concrete steps onto the concourse. She still wasn’t there.

I couldn’t understand what had happened. She had said she was returning to her room the night before but that she’d be back in the morning. I was sure of that. Could she have changed her mind about me? Had her father and Craig gotten to her? Did Craig tell her everything he knew? What does he really know, anyway? I waited a few minutes but then had no choice but to return to the arena floor for my last match.

My opponent would be Dan Cortez, who I had pinned on Friday night. Cortez had wrestled all the way back through the consolation bracket after the early loss, which was an admirable accomplishment. He had probably had to win four matches the day before and another that morning.

I was distracted as Coach Miles tried to prepare me. “This guy was pretty hot when you pinned him. You can bet he’ll come out swinging. Make sure you’re ready for it.” I nodded, but didn’t say anything.

“Ben, are you okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” I said passively. “I’m ready.”

“Look, Ben. I know you’re disappointed but fifth or sixth in the state is a great season for you. And you’ll be back next year.”

I played along with him. “I know, Coach. I feel pretty good about all that. I just hate losing.”

Cortez came after me even more ferociously than he had the first time we wrestled. I could tell that he wanted the headlock, probably because that was what I ended up using to pin him on Friday. I tried to avoid the tie-up, remembering that I had scored with a single or double-leg takedown in that match. He was tenacious and was finally able to throw the headlock halfway through the first period. It felt loose and I was sure I could slip it and come behind for two points.

The strength I reached back for to resist the headlock just wasn’t there anymore. I struggled to get to my knees after we were down on the mat but he was able to squeeze the headlock tighter and pull me onto my back. For the second time in a space of three hours I was in serious danger.

He swore at me under his breath as he settled in to his pinning combination but that was the least of my worries. There was nearly a minute to go before the period would end and I had to find a way to get off my back. I fought hard but Cortez was rabidly determined to avenge the results of our first meeting. When I knew my remaining unpinned shoulder was about to make contact with the mat I rolled hard the other way. He was expecting this, as I would have, and shifted his balance accordingly. Despite my best efforts the referee called the pin with thirty-one seconds remaining in the first period.

Cortez swore at me again after the pin was called and then pointed somewhere in the crowd. This time he was willing to shake my hand. I was upset with myself for getting stuck in the headlock but in some ways it was actually a relief that I cared enough to be upset about losing. I was alive.

“I’m sorry, Coach. I thought I could slip the headlock so I didn’t fight it,” I explained between breaths. “I really stunk today.”

“You had a great season,” he said, putting his arm around me. “You came out of nowhere and placed sixth in the state. Heck,” he laughed. “That makes me look good.”

“I hate that I lost to somebody I already beat.”

“Let’s face it. You and that kid are pretty close, even if I don’t care for the guy. You were bound to split the matches.”

I put my warm-ups on as we talked. He reminded me to leave them on even if I took the singlet off. The top eight place-winners in each weight class would be brought up to stand on the championship podium to receive medals and pose for pictures. That wouldn’t be for hours, of course, after the finals were held.

“I’m going to check up on Nick,” he said. “We can catch up later. Keep your head up.”

“Okay, Coach,” I said. That was fine with me because I wanted to look for Judy again. I climbed the steps to our meeting place but again she wasn’t there. I spent the next few hours sitting in the stands, watching matches and checking for Judy. By the time the finals started I knew she wasn’t going to be there.

When Nick walked onto the mat for his match I snapped out of my daze in time to realize I had let Nick down by not being in his corner. All I could do was watch the match helplessly from a distance, just like the other 20,000 spectators in the building. Nick was facing Alan Albanir, who was currently riding a streak of fifty-eight consecutive victories. It was projected that Albanir, still only a junior, would break the state record for victories some time during the next season.

Nick and Albanir were no strangers to each other. In fact, it had been Albanir who had ended Nick’s dream in the state semifinals the previous season before going on to win the state title himself. Coach had told me about that match. Both wrestlers had won over thirty matches but most fans were surprised that Albanir had won. Apparently Nick had tried a first-period throw that Albanir re-rolled into a five-point takedown. Despite a valiant comeback Nick lost the match 8-5. It sounded like Nick had outwrestled Albanir but was done in by the failed attempt for a glamorous takedown. To me it was vintage Nick, always his own toughest opponent.

It appeared that Coach must have reminded Nick about what happened the year before because Nick started the match looking for a basic leg takedown rather than any risky upper-body moves. Halfway through the first period he took a deep shot near the center and stood up with Albanir’s leg. Before Albanir had a chance to counter Nick 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 Nick looked to be in good shape with a 2-1 lead.

He began the second period on top, most likely as a result of Albanir’s choice. Nick was able to control his opponent’s body but kept drifting around front as if he was looking for some way to put Albanir directly on his back. I saw Coach Miles frantically waving his arms, signaling Nick to move back behind Albanir and try something safer. I breathed a sigh of relief when Nick followed his coach’s instructions.

Firmly in control of the match so far, a confident-looking Nick grabbed Albanir’s arm halfway through the period and then lunged to the side, obviously looking for a quick tilt. When I saw Nick’s hips slide down onto the mat while Albanir remained on his base I knew what was coming. Easily fending off the tilt attempt, Albanir stepped over and took Nick’s head and arm. Besides scoring a reversal, he held Nick on his back long enough for two back points. Just as he had the previous year, Albanir scored only after Nick made what I considered to be a tactical mistake. My guilt intensified as I watched. Had I been down there I might have been able to warn him off trying for the tilt, knowing that there weren’t any shortcuts or easy scores against a wrestler like Albanir.

Going into the third period Nick trailed 5-2. Starting from the bottom position, Nick first tried a granby roll, the flashy move that most experienced wrestlers knew how to stop. Apparently, I thought as I watched, Nick had forgotten about our team mantra, ‘Keep it Simple.’ Maybe it was because he was panicking. If only I was in his corner to remind him and settle him down, I thought regretfully.

Coach Miles yelled at Nick and pointed to his own head as the wrestlers tumbled out of bounds, in an attempt to get him to wrestle smarter. When the match resumed my spirits soared as I watched Nick hit a perfect switch, earning him a reversal that was worth two points. That meant that he trailed only by a single point with about a minute left in the match.

At that point I saw Nick do something I’d never seen him do before. Usually he tried to put his opponent on his back directly from referee’s position rather than forcing him off his base first. That usually worked for him because he was so much better than everybody else but it wouldn’t work against a wrestler like Albanir. This time I was amazed to see him use a simple tight-waist grip and arm-chop, followed by a few hearty shoves, to force Albanir onto his stomach. It looked what I would have done.

By then there were fewer than thirty seconds left and the tension was so thick that I wasn’t breathing anymore. Albanir was obviously tired and looked like he hoped to survive the match simply by countering everything Nick did. Nick, for whom stamina had always been a strength, moved steadily up towards Albanir’s head and labored for a few seconds until he was able to slip his own arm across the back of Albanir’s neck. With only eighteen seconds left Nick had again done something I’d never seen him do before when he inserted a simple half nelson.

Coach was yelling at Nick, most likely to remind him to hurry, but I knew nobody was more aware of the urgency than Nick was. He moved out to the side so he was perpendicular to his opponent and then began driving into him. Seconds later a helpless Albanir was on his back. When I saw the referee begin counting back points with nine seconds left on the clock I leaped out of my seat with my fists in the air because I knew that was enough time for Nick to earn the decisive back points.

I expected Nick to show some exuberance when the buzzer went off but he calmly shook hands at the center of the mat and walked over to shake the hand of his opponent’s coach. It was only when he had returned to his own corner that he showed any emotion. He and Coach Miles embraced and Nick’s fist plunged skyward. I felt tears running down my face as I watched, knowing how difficult it must have been for them to fail so many times before. Even though I wasn’t there I knew I hadn’t let Nick down after all. The way he’d wrestled, using basic strategies and moves, told me that I had something to do with his victory and his championship. I felt sure that I’d helped him overcome the mental barriers that were holding him back. That gave me a powerful feeling of satisfaction that helped ease my pain over the shambles my own life had again become.

Before going to congratulate my teammate I made one last check for Judy, who still wasn’t there. Now I was really confused, this time by Judy’s motivations. The previous night she finally found the means to make a clean break from Craig and she had done it. If she could change her mind about him, maybe she’d changed her mind about me, too.

All of a sudden I needed to get outside so I worked my way through the throngs of wrestling fans and out through a revolving door onto the boardwalk. Remembering how Judy had pointed out the Atlantic City skyline from Ocean City a few weeks ago, I peered south down the shoreline. There were no landmarks that I could recall but I could guess about where Ocean City must be. With plenty to think about, I began walking slowly along the boardwalk in that direction.

Until a few weeks ago I had thought my escape from the past had been a success. I enjoyed school, I was popular, and had been successful in wrestling. Nobody seemed the least bit interested in where I‘d come from and nobody had tracked me north. Besides that, there was Judy. Even during the most painful moments my relationship with her had been the most exhilarating thing that had ever happened to me. Now, on a cold March Sunday as I trudged along the boardwalk on the Jersey Shore I felt like I had nothing. Where had it all gone?

Even if my new life was falling apart it hadn’t been a total loss. I was no longer consumed with doubts about my wrestling ability. I had proven that I had the talent and drive to be a champion. It wasn’t necessary anymore to actually go through with it for another year, even though I would do anything for the chance to do what Nick had just done.

As I made my way along the boardwalk I understood that it was all over. I no longer had any doubt that Craig was on to me. I couldn’t stay even if I wanted to. Getting away was something I had done once and I thought I could do it again. I would have to. And why not? There was nothing left for me here. Even Judy, the one part of this life that I would have liked to keep more than any other, seemed to have slipped through my fingers. She would eventually learn the truth about me if she didn’t know already. How would she feel about me then? There was no way to know.

There was one thing I did know. I had no reason to stay and plenty of reasons not to. I had achieved my objective by reaching the place in wrestling that I ached for. Surprisingly, the result of my success was a letdown. A complacency that I believed was the reason for my horrible performance on the mat that day. All season long I wrestled with passion because of what I yearned for. That passion was gone. Part of me knew that if I came back the next year I would wrestle the way I did that morning instead of the way I wrestled all season.

As I passed in front of the Hilton Casino a song I’d never heard before was being piped onto the boardwalk. It sounded like a Hoobastank song and the most peculiar thing were the lyrics. Somehow they seemed to be describing my own feelings about what I’d done and what was weighing heavy on my mind. Somehow, in a strange coincidence, “The Reason” reflected my muddled feelings. It made it all feel so final. Remarkably, it was only by chance that I heard it all. Or was it?

There really was so much Judy didn’t know about me. About my past, or even my future. For a few seconds I considered going back to Chapel Forge, telling Judy everything and trying to get her to come with me, if that was even possible. What would she do if I asked her to?

Trying not to attract any attention, I pulled off my Chapel Forge Township warm-up jacket and slipped it into a nearby trash barrel as I passed by, carefully pushing it below a brown bag that was coated with ketchup. After a few seconds without the jacket I was miserably cold as the ocean wind whipped through my shirt so I stopped and pulled my blue zippered sweatshirt out of my gym bag.

When I put my hands in the pockets after resuming my walk I found something that hadn’t been there before. It was a sealed yellow envelope with my name written across the front in a feminine script. Not my new name but my old one. My real one.

“Oh, God,” I said out loud, feeling faint. If she knew my name she knew everything. For the first time since I’d arrived almost a year earlier I knew for certain that somebody here knew who I really was. I was sickened. My knees felt like they would give out so I found an empty bench and sat down. I needed to collect my wits before pulling the envelope back out of my pocket.

I had so many questions. It had to be from Judy but if it was, how had she gotten the envelope into that pocket and when had she done it? How long had she known who I really was? What was she going to do now? What was I going to do now? I gently opened the envelope and pulled out a handwritten note.

Dear Ben,

I think I know you well enough to be sure that you’ll be making an important decision today. It’s better that I’m not around while you’re deciding.

I just want you to know that even though I was shocked at first about who you really are, it doesn’t change at all how I feel about you. I can understand why you did what you did.

If you do what I think you’ll do we won’t see each other again for a long time, if ever at all. I have a lot of living to do before I catch up with you.

Will you wait for me?

Your Judy

I wondered if the boardwalk in Atlantic City continued down the coast all the way to Ocean City. That was a long way. It had taken Judy and me about twenty minutes to make the drive on that warm day a few weeks earlier, but I suddenly had plenty of time. After all, I thought. I’m Ben Pietrak. Nobody even knows I’m here. Even if I walked for the rest of the day I wouldn’t be missed. There didn’t seem to be anything to do but keep walking. So I did.

THE END

Contact Dave Conifer by email: daveconifer@rocketmail.com

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Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 3

Chapter 6

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22