Above All Else (8 page)

chapter eighteen

We stopped beside this park around the corner from Romano's restaurant. Elsa turned off the van. When she took her hands off the steering wheel, I could see she was still shaking.

“Who were those guys?” she said.

“People just go in there to wreck the place,” I said. “They could have been anyone. Same as last time. Those guys who beat up your brother were probably there to smash things and do whatever else they wanted to.”

“Why?” she asked.

“I don't know—they're knobs.”

She shook her head, unable to understand this. “Are you going to the restaurant?”

I looked out the window. “I don't really feel like it.”

“So where are you going, then?”

I wanted to be suave and cool and say something like,
Wherever you're going, baby
. But instead I just said, “I don't know.”

Elsa was silent as she stared out at the empty street.

“Doug isn't allowed to play. You know that, right?”

“No,” I said. “I didn't.”

“It's not fair.”

Without thinking, I said, “I still don't get why you care so much.”

“I care because Doug is my friend. Plus, he's this hugely talented soccer player. There are going to be scouts from a bunch of colleges at the final, and he won't be playing.
When they ask why he's not playing, they'll be told about the attack and how he may or may not be connected. What chance will he have of getting a scholarship then?”

“Likely not a great one.”

“You have another year of high school, Del. The scouts will be back for you. They won't for Doug. And that's not fair. He didn't do anything.”

I didn't know what to believe. If I were Doug, I wouldn't have risked everything to take out a mediocre player like Romano just because of some stupid disagreement on the field. But I wasn't Doug. That's the problem with trying to figure people out. You never know what's going through their heads.

“Well, we can take what we have to my coach and see—”

“Hey, is that Riley?” Elsa said. And, sure enough, it was. He rounded the corner and sat down on a bench. “What's he doing?”

“I don't know,” I replied. I went to open the door. “I'll go see.”

“No, wait.” She put her hand on my leg. “He's looking at that house across the street. Do you know who lives there?”

I squinted at the house. “Yeah,” I said. “That's Jared's place.”

“He's on your team?”

“Yeah. He plays center.”

“Let's wait a second and see what he does.”

A few minutes later, a car pulled out of Jared's driveway. As the car passed us, I saw Jared's mother and father inside. Riley got up, crossed the street and walked up the driveway.

“Come on,” Elsa said, getting out.

I got out my side and met her on the sidewalk. It was dark but no longer raining. The streetlights were glowing warmly on the wet ground.

Elsa moved up the street, staying close to the row of trees. When we got to the end of Jared's driveway, we stopped and listened. At first there was nothing. Then there was a quick popping and the tinkle of breaking glass.

“What was that?” Elsa said.

I looked around the hedge and saw Riley going into Jared's garage. A light flashed on inside, and I could see that a pane of glass in the door had been broken.

I looked up and down the street, then walked up to the garage and stepped inside.

“What are you doing, Riley?” I said.

Riley was bent down beneath a table, digging through a box of tools. He spun around and looked at me wide-eyed.

“What are you doing here, Del?” He stood up and darted to the door. “Is anyone with you?”

“Elsa,” I said.

“Were you two following me?”

“We just happened to be—”

“You just happened to be watching Jared's house. Sure,” Riley said. He kicked the door closed.

“What's going on, Riley?”

He shook his head a couple of times, then went back to digging through the box. “I can't say anything, Del. Just get out of here before someone catches us.”

I leaned against a table as Elsa came into the garage.

“Shut the door,” Riley said. Elsa closed the door behind her.

I decided to get it out in the open immediately. “Did you do it?” I said.

“Did I do what?”

“Did you take Romano out?”

He shook his head. “Why would you even think that?”

“Because you knew about Jean, right? You met him before, and you knew how good he was. And you were angry at Romano for blowing that game for us. You…you really want to win.”

He turned around and stood up. “We all want to win, Del. Winning is all that matters.”

Then I remembered something else.

“You used to take martial arts,” I said.

“Yeah, so?”

“So you probably learned how to choke someone out.”

Riley laughed. “I told you, I wasn't very good at that.” He went to a bench and started moving things around. I noticed he was wearing gloves.

“Are you looking for a pry bar?” I said.

He stopped knocking things around and turned to me. “What do you know about it?”

“We know it's gone,” Elsa said.

“Gone where?”

“It doesn't matter. It's gone. Is that what you're looking for in here? Did Jared have it?”

The door shot open. Jared was standing in the doorway.

“Did I have what?” he said.

chapter nineteen

“What the hell, guys? Who broke my window? What are you doing in here?” Jared said.

“I'm looking for the pry bar, Jared,” Riley said. He stood up, and I could tell he was nervous. He always starts rubbing his wrist when he's nervous.

“What pry bar?” Jared said.

“The one you stole from my father,” Riley said. “The one you used to crush Romano's ankle.”

“I have no idea what you're talking about.”

Riley looked at me. “Remember I told you about those martial-arts lessons I used to take? Well, Jared was in that class too. And he kept taking them once I'd quit.”

“So?” Jared said.

“So you know how to knock someone unconscious. And you know exactly where to hit someone to bruise the bone.”

“Are you accusing me of something?” Jared said. He hadn't moved from the doorway, but he was standing straight and tall.

“Where's the pry bar?” Riley said again. “The day after Romano was attacked, my dad needed it and it was gone.”

“My brother found a pry bar in the bushes the morning after the attack,” Elsa said. “Kind of stupid to leave the weapon at the scene, isn't it?”

“Who is she?” Jared asked.

I didn't feel like introducing Elsa at that moment. “Is this all true, Jared?” I said.

“You guys think I took Romano out? Man, that's cold. Why would I do that?”

“Because you need to win, Jared,” I said. “You need to win more than anything. And Romano was becoming a liability. He was making stupid plays and injuring people. Plus, with Jean in the wings, you figured it was fine to take a chance.”

“Seriously, guys, I wouldn't do that. Rom's my friend. He's part of the team.”

“I know you took the pry bar,” Riley said. “I remember you looking at it. And right after you left, I thought I saw someone in our garage. That was you, wasn't it?”

“If I did take it, why would I leave it in the bushes as you claim?” Jared asked, turning to Elsa. “Why not do a better job of hiding it?”

“Because it didn't matter to you if the pry bar was found or not,” Riley said. “If it was, your fingerprints wouldn't be on it, but my dad's would be. He puts a sticker on all his tools with his name and address. And you knew that too. You asked about it when we were in the garage. You wore gloves all the time, didn't you?”

“He did,” I said, thinking back to the restaurant. “When I was leaving that night, he had the team's keeper gloves on.”

“You were wearing them the day you were at my place too,” Riley said. “I remember that when you left, you said they were new and you were working them in for Alvaro.”

“What time did you leave the restaurant?” I said.

“I'm not answering any of these questions,” Jared said. “It's stupid to think that I would have done that. Romano's my friend and teammate.” He backed out of the doorway and pointed at the broken glass. “You're going to have to pay for this.”

“Doug isn't going to be able to play in the final tomorrow,” Elsa said.

“Good,” Jared replied.

“He didn't do anything.”

“We don't know that,” Jared replied.

“You know he didn't,” she said.

“I don't know anything about it. I don't like being accused of this either. I thought we were friends, man.”

Elsa walked past him and stood in the driveway.

“You know this isn't the right way to do it, Jare,” I said. “We can win without cheating.” He didn't reply. I thought Riley was going to hit him on his way past. But Riley's half his size and more of a human being than Jared will ever be.

When we got to the sidewalk, Riley said, “He's right. We can't prove anything.”

“I heard the bell ring twice right before Romano was attacked. But you said you couldn't get into the restaurant. So where was Jared? Did you see him?”

“I didn't see anyone inside the restaurant. But I heard the bell ring twice too.”

“But you didn't see anyone come out?” Elsa said.

“No.”

“Do you think he was going to try and pin it on you?” I said as we neared Elsa's minivan.

“I had a feeling,” he said. “I mean, if it ever looked as if he was going to be busted for it or even questioned, yeah, he would have pointed a finger at me right away.”

“So what were you going to do?” Elsa asked.

Riley shrugged. But there was too much in that shrug. Too much indecision.

“Were you going to tell Coach?”

“I really didn't know what I was going to do,” he said. “I just needed to get the pry bar back. I guess I hadn't thought beyond that.”

Elsa opened the van. “You have to tell your coach what you know,” she said. She got in and started the engine. “Or I will.” She slammed the door shut and drove off.

“What a mess,” I said as we watched her drive away.

“Yeah,” Riley said. “It sure is.”

chapter twenty

The scouts were in the stands again. They were typing away on tablets or talking into cell phones when we took the field.

At first they made me nervous. But then I realized that Elsa was right. I had another year to impress people. Another year of playing and getting better.

Eventually, I forgot they were there and focused on the game.

The Rebels were playing an incredibly disciplined game. They were taking possession time away from us and winning all the battles. They had three corner kicks in the first half alone. They never managed to score, but it didn't seem to matter. They were the better team, and that's often enough.

We left the field at the half feeling like the underdogs. The weather was perfect for once. Bright and sunny, but not sweltering. Because the Rebels had finished first, we were playing on their field. The stands were much newer than the ones at our school, and they were filled with spectators. The atmosphere was one of excitement and anticipation.

“What's going on out there?” Coach said. “We're losing all the battles that matter. We're falling apart. Help me out here—where did the team go?”

“They're playing hard, Coach,” Oz said.

“And so are we.” He looked at the pitch. “Get into the cycling game. Move the ball around more. And don't give it up.” He was at a loss for what to do. That much was evident. You can't play a cycling game when you don't have possession. We were spending the majority of our time running the ball down and blocking shots. And there was no reason to believe the Rebels wouldn't be coming on just as strong in the second half.

“What about the flip play?” Jared said. Our regular keeper had broken his toe chasing his dog around, and Jared was our backup, so not only were we down to no subs, but we also had a less than fantastic keeper making everyone nervous and overly cautious.

I didn't look at Jared. I hadn't been able to talk to him since we'd discovered what had happened to Romano. I had wanted to tell Coach about it, but I couldn't. We didn't have any proof.

“Good idea, lad. These guys didn't see that one before.” He clapped Jean on the back. “Jean, you go to the center and just wait it out. Del, hang back a touch.”

“I can send it that far,” Jared said. “I've done it before.”

“Whoever gets the ball, hold it, wait them out, then send it.”

For the first five minutes, I swear we didn't touch the ball. We were playing to win, but the Rebels had something to prove. Doug was on the sidelines. He never sat down once, as far as I could tell. He was cheering his team on. Willing them forward.

Romano was on our bench, looking sullen and beat. I wondered if he had begun to suspect who it was that had attacked him. Maybe Jared had been too nice to him. Said something he shouldn't have. Known more than he was supposed to.

We were ten minutes in when the Rebels scored. It was a beautiful sweeping move by one of their strikers after a corner kick. The third corner kick in a row.

Coach became more animated than ever. Clapping and stomping around. Yelling at us. He normally remained calm on the sidelines. Stoic, even. But he was losing it out there that day.

“Drop play!” Jared yelled as we moved upfield. “Del, drop!” I ignored him. “This is yours, man!”

The ball came into play, and we managed to get deep into their end when one of their defenders won a one-on-one battle with Jean and booted the ball back into our end.

Jared came way out of his goal and brought the ball down. Then he just stood there with it at his feet. He was outside the box and couldn't pick it up. The first striker was on him immediately. He deked the guy out and ran the ball to the right side. The Rebels began pushing toward him. There's nothing more enticing than an open net, and our net was as open as it could be. All anyone had to do was steal the ball from Jared and boot it in.

He deked another player, then ran the ball to center and, in one swift motion, sent it flying high and deep.

I started to run.

My mind emptied of all thoughts. Everything that had happened over the previous weeks. The attack, Elsa, the mall, Jared. All of it disappeared as I focused on the ball hovering up there, then beginning its descent. I was past all but one of the defenders as the ball came down. I jumped just as the defender was about to launch himself at it and tapped it to the ground with a quick header.

Jean was right there, crossing the field and moving on toward the goal. I went to the opposite side, waiting for the cross if it was to come.

But it didn't. Jean slipped the ball between the keeper's legs and tied the game.

Jared came up the field and threw his arms around Jean and me.

“Well done,” he said. “Nice.” He let go and yelled, “Let's go, let's get another.”

As he ran back toward our goal, I was struck with a memory. I didn't know why, but for a moment I was transported back to the restaurant on the night Romano was attacked. It was an uneventful memory. I was just sitting in the booth and Jared was beside me.

Then I found the missing piece.

Jared's cologne.

He wore this very strong and distinct cologne. He prided himself on it.

“Coach!” I yelled. “Time-out!” Coach held his hands up, questioning. “We need a time-out!” I yelled again. He shrugged and called to the ref. I ran over to where Romano was sitting on the bench.

“Rom,” I said. “Do you remember smelling anything when you were attacked?”

“Smelling what?” Romano said.

“Cologne,” I said.

“What?”

“What's this all about, Del?” Coach said.

“Jared was the one who attacked Romano,” I said.

“What are you talking about?” Coach said.

“No one saw him do it. But it was him. I'm sure of it. Think back, Romano.
Did you smell Jared's cologne?”

Romano looked up. The rest of the team had circled around us.

The ref started yelling at us that our time was up.

“I don't know what this is all about, but we have to get back out on the field. Let's just play on,” Coach said.

“It's not right, Coach,” I said. “Jared did it, and Doug is sitting out. He didn't do anything, and he's stuck on the bench.”

“Shut up, Del,” Jared said. He came up and shoved me. Romano looked up at him. The smell of Jared's cologne was everywhere. “You don't know what you're talking about.”

“I do,” I said, wondering if I'd made a huge mistake confronting him right here on the field.

“We can deal with this after the game,” Coach said.

“We can't,” I said. I got down on one knee in front of Romano. “Rom, you have to tell him. If we're going to win this, we have to win it fairly.”

“How is that even possible now?” Rom said.

“It isn't. But if Doug doesn't get to play and Jared does, that's totally unfair.”

Romano looked at Jared. He inhaled deeply. “You're right, that was the smell,” he said, his cheeks starting to redden. “I'd been trying to place it. Trying to remember where I'd smelled it before. But that was the smell.”

He stood up and shoved Jared. “What the hell, Jared?”

“Shut up, Rom. Why would I do that to you?” Jared yelled.

Rom fell back to the bench and grabbed at his ankle. “Because you want to win.”

Everyone was looking at Jared.

“Where were you when Rom was attacked?” Coach asked.

“Home,” Jared said.

“You couldn't have been,” Riley said. “I heard you leave no more than a minute before Rom came outside. Right, Romano?”

“Maybe two minutes, but, yeah, he'd just left.”

“So I was on my way home. What's the difference?”

“You weren't, Jared,” I said. “You waited for Romano to leave, then you choked him out and clobbered his ankle with the pry bar you stole from Riley.”

“Where is all this coming from?” Coach said.

“None of it's true!” Jared said. “They don't have any proof!”

“It is,” I said. I stood up and looked at Coach. “We should have come to you before. But it's all true.”

“Rom?” Coach said. He put his hand on Romano's shoulder. “Do you know for certain it was Jared?”

“I didn't see him, but that was definitely his cologne I smelled.” Rom turned away from Coach and shook his head at Jared. “Why'd you do it, man? I wasn't playing hard enough for you?”

“Because winning was top priority and Jared had already spotted a better player,” I said.

“What's this?” Coach asked.

“Jared knew how good Jean was. He'd seen him play downtown.”

“And then you brought him straight to me,” Coach said to Jared. “Lad, what were you thinking?”

The ref was standing in front of us now.

“I have to get this game going again,” he said. “What's the holdup?”

Coach put his hand on the shoulder of Greg, one of our defensive players, and said, “You're in net.”

“What? No way!” Jared said. “These are all lies. I didn't do anything!”

“Go to the showers,” Coach said. “You're done.”

“You have no proof,” Jared yelled.

I couldn't look at him.

“Fine,” Jared said. “Lose.” Then he stormed off.

“Is there something I should know about here?” the ref asked.

“The lad there on the bench?” Coach said, pointing at Doug. “He had nothing to do with the attack on our player. He should be allowed to play.”

“I don't think I can make that call,” the ref said. “That came down from the league. And the police.”

“Anything comes of it, you hang it on me. He had nothing to do with the attack. We're sure of it.”

The ref went to the other bench and filled the coach in on the events. Eventually, he blew his whistle and we took to the field again, one man short.