Football Genius (2007) (10 page)

CRICKETS AND CICADAS BUZZED
in Troy's ears. He pushed aside the needles of a pine tree on the edge of Seth Halloway's lawn and stopped to catch his breath. There were lights on in the two lower levels of the house.

A stick snapped behind him. Troy spun, his heart leaping, panic lifting him off the ground as he backed away.

"Hssss."

He scrambled backward toward Seth Halloway's lawn and fell over a bush. Without getting up, he crabbed backward toward the pool. The image of a horrible snake--worse, some crazy monster from a nightmare--forced a low moan up out of his throat.

"Hssss!"

He groaned.

"Troy," came an urgent whisper.

Troy froze. "Tate? Are you crazy?"

The pine branches parted and there she stood.

"You scared the heck out of me," Troy said, getting up from the ground. "What happened?"

"We figured you better have someone to watch your back, and Nathan's butt's too big to get through," she said, grinning. "So here I am."

Troy ran his hand over his face, shaking his head.

"Well, come on, then."

"What are you going to do?"

"Ring the bell, I guess," Troy said.

They crept around the outside of the house. On the ground level by the pool was a big room with sliding glass doors. Inside was Seth Halloway with three other players, sitting around on an
L
-shaped sectional couch, watching the
Sunday Night Football
game with three teammates. Each of them had one or more bags of ice packed onto his body. Seth had four. Two on his knees, one on the elbow, and the last he held against his ribs.

Tate gripped his arm and said, "That's Patrick Kerney, John Abraham, and Demarrio Williams."

Troy looked at her in the glow of the light, then back at the big men to study their faces.

"How can you tell without their numbers?" he asked.

She shrugged. "You think I just trade those cards? I study them."

Troy motioned with his hand for her to follow. They rounded the house, checking the street for a sign of anyone who might stop them or call security. The street was empty and dark. Troy climbed the stone steps and stood in front of the door, breathing hard. He tried to slow down his breathing, but finally just rang the bell.

The bell chimed deep inside the house. No one came. Troy tried again.
Ding dong
.

After another minute, Tate stepped up and jabbed the bell over and over until they heard noises from inside.

"Tate," Troy said, pulling her hand away. "Are you kidding?"

The door swung open. Seth Halloway said, "Kid, are you crazy?"

"Yes," Troy said, staring at him hard. "Crazy and a genius, at least at football."

Seth rolled his eyes and shook his head. "We been through this, buddy. Where's your mom, anyway? She's not going to be happy, you know."

"I know," Troy said. "But no one will be happy if you guys keep losing. I can help. It was a preseason game, that's why I couldn't call it. With Krock."

"Kid," Seth said, sighing long and loud. "This is like my weekend. Film and meetings tomorrow, and Tuesday's my only day off. It's like Friday night to me. I'm not happy we lost. My ribs are killing me. My elbow. Both knees. I'm gonna go back inside now and pretend you didn't bust in here again, because I like you and I like your mom, but you better get on home and let me enjoy what time I do have. And take your girlfriend too."

Seth started to turn and close the door, but Tate jammed her foot against it and it bounced back open. She stepped up onto the threshold and kicked Seth Halloway in the leg.

He cried out in pain.

"You big dummy," she said. "You do those United Way commercials talking about how important it is to help kids. So why can't you help now? Or is that just some phony line for TV?"

Seth was hopping on one foot, grabbing his knee and groaning. When he got his footing, he whipped out his cell phone and started to dial.

"You gonna call the cops?" Tate asked, scowling.

"You bet," Seth said.

"Good," she said, crossing her arms and planting her feet. "I can't wait to tell the reporters when they ask me what happened. How you don't really care about kids."

Seth's brow wrinkled, and he looked from Tate to Troy. "Is she for real?"

"Pretty much," Troy said with a quick nod of his head.

"Well...well," Seth said, snapping his phone shut. "Shoot. Two crazy kids. One crazier than the other. What do you want from me? Won't you just leave?"

"I want you to give my friend a chance," Tate said, glaring up at him. "He told you what happened. Don't you listen?"

"Preseason, whatever," Seth said, pocketing the phone, "the pressure made him crack. Look, I'd love nothing more than for you to be this football genius thing, kid. But the game's about pressure."

"He can do it," Tate said.

Troy nodded his head.

"Yeah," Seth said. "Okay, here's the deal. You come in and you call the plays. I got three other players inside watching the game. That's pressure. Then, if you mess up, I call security and they take you out of here and call your mom and I never see you again."

"That's mean," Tate said, stomping her foot.

"No," Seth said. "That's pressure. I got a life, you know. I can't have you two showing up every time he thinks he gets it right. You gotta decide. That's it."

"Okay," Tate said, grabbing Troy by the arm and tugging him inside. "He'll do it."

"TATE," TROY SAID, FROWNING
at her. "You will," she said. "Come on. I know you will."

"He better," Seth said, hobbling back into the house, grabbing at his knee. "And I better be able to lift weights tomorrow."

He led them down some curved stairs to the ground floor and the big media room. The players didn't pay any attention to them; their eyes were glued to the game. The coffee table was covered with empty bottles. Two big bowls were half full, one with chips, one with pretzels, and a round container of dip sat between them with streaks of the stuff spattered around it.

Demarrio Williams looked up and said, "Hey, kid."

The others noticed them and did the same but went right back to the TV.

"Aren't you going to ask us to sit down?" Tate said, still glaring at Seth. "Maybe if we want a drink or something? My mom would kill me if I had your manners."

Seth twisted up his mouth and somewhat sarcastically waved his hand toward the couch and said, "Won't you please sit down, Madam Queen?"

"Thank you," Tate said primly. She patted the cushion next to her, looking back at Troy and motioning with her head.

"And to drink, Your Majesty?" Seth said, bowing.

The players all looked sideways at him, chuckling, then right back to the game.

"Iced tea is fine," Tate said. "Arizona Green Tea, if you have that."

Seth made a circle with his mouth and put his hand to it, gasping and raising his eyebrows. "Can Her Majesty forgive me? Nestea is all I have."

Tate shrugged and nodded, turning her attention to the TV. The Jets were playing the Giants.

"Okay for you too?" Seth asked Troy, going behind the bar and opening the refrigerator there.

Troy nodded and sat beside Tate. He nudged her ribs with his elbow and said, "Take it easy, will you?"

"Just do your genius thing," she said, "and don't worry about me. When you're a girl, you gotta assert yourself. That's what my mom says. Watch."

Seth set the drinks down in front of them.

"Yes, I would like some chips, thank you," Tate said, looking up at him.

Seth crossed his arms, staring back at her. Finally, he laughed and grabbed the bowl, setting it in front of them.

"Just in case," he said, pushing the dip her way too.

Then Seth stepped back and took out his cell phone again.

"Hello? Harvey?" he said into the phone. "Yes, this is Seth Halloway at 2112 Jackson Drive. I may have a problem, Harvey, and I just wanted to see if you might be able to send a man over here."

Seth looked at them, raising an eyebrow, and said, "No, not right yet. I'll call you. The problem might take care of itself. I'll see. Just wanted to check. Thanks."

Seth snapped the phone shut again. He put his hands on his knees and leaned close, staring at Troy. "Pressure."

Troy clenched his teeth and turned his attention to the game. The Giants runner Tikki Barber ran the ball across the fifty to the forty-five, giving his team a first down. Troy watched the defense change players.

He let the room drift away and his mind soak up what he saw without thinking. The Giants came out with two running backs, two tight ends, and only one wide receiver.

"Angle route weak to Tikki," he said, describing the pass pattern that would look like a sideways
V
if drawn on the chalkboard, "with Toomer on a deep crossing pattern as the secondary route."

He didn't really see, but felt the Falcons players' eyes go from him back to the TV. The Giants ran the angle route, with Manning completing the pass to Tikki. Tate jumped up and whooped. Troy focused on the game.

The Giants didn't change players. The Jets brought in an extra linebacker and took a cornerback out.

"Jets will blitz Manning from the weak side with that linebacker who just came in," Troy said, his voice sounding distant, coming out in a flat tone from his trance. "He'll either get sacked or pass it to the tight end down the seam."

It happened the way he said it would, Manning getting mowed down by the blitzing backer before he could get off the pass.

"Did you see the tight end run free up the middle? Right up the seam?" Demarrio Williams said to Seth. "Just like the kid said."

"I did," Seth said, crossing his arms, looking from the TV, to Troy, and back, "and the sack. What now?"

Troy didn't even have to see what players the Giants were going to use.

"That same screen pass, but this time to the fullback going the other way, to the weak side," Troy said.

He was right.

The Falcons players let out a cheer, and Tate slapped him on his back. Seth tossed the cell phone over his shoulder. As it clattered on the floor, he asked if the kids wanted some leftover pizza.

SETH DROPPED TATE OFF
in front of her apartment building, but not before he held out his hand and she slapped him five.

"I was just saying that stuff," she said, grinning. "You're everybody's hero. You still would be, no matter what some girl kicker says."

"Well, I'd hate to think how mean you'd be if you were an offensive lineman," he said. "But the best thing about sports is the friends you make, so I figure Troy here is pretty lucky."

"Her too," Troy said, and they all had a laugh.

Troy liked riding up high in the H2. He wished Jamie Renfro could see him, sitting there with Seth Halloway. Troy looked over at the player's face, the muscled jaw.

"So, you got a girlfriend?" Troy said without thinking.

Seth's face colored just a bit. He glanced at himself in the rearview mirror, then looked at Troy.

"A couple girls you might call friends, I guess. Nothing serious."

"You got kids?" Troy asked.

"Hey, not me," Seth said.

"If you did, you probably wouldn't just take off like they were never born, I bet."

They rode for a few minutes in silence before Seth said, "No. Probably not. But sometimes things happen that people can't help."

"Like what?" Troy asked. "Like aliens come down in a spaceship and take you away?"

Seth shrugged. "I'm no school psychologist, kid. All I know is, things happen. Unless you're the one they're happening to, you usually can't understand it. Most people are good people. I believe that, and now we're at your driveway."

They pulled off Route 141 and started down the twisty dirt lane.

"You wanna just let me out here?" Troy asked.

"Why's that?"

"Just better if I get out and walk from here," Troy said. "I'd rather tell my mom about all this when the time's right."

"Which is when?" Seth asked, slowing down.

"I don't know," Troy said. "Not now."

"You gonna lie?" Seth asked, stopping the truck.

"No. I'm just not gonna say anything," Troy said.

"What if she asks?"

"Then I'll think of something," Troy said.

Seth stared at him for a minute, then asked, "Want me to do you a favor?"

"What favor?" Troy asked.

"It's something good," Seth said. "Trust me."

"Sure."

"Okay," Seth said. He put the truck into drive and started toward the house.

"Hey," Troy said, bracing his hands on the dash. "She'll ground me for life."

"You want to do something," Seth said, glancing at him, "you gotta do it right. You don't start right, you won't finish right."

"What's the favor you're doing for
me
?"

"This is the favor," Seth said. "Making you tell the truth. It's something pretty important that you need to know."

"I know that already," Troy said, slumping down into the seat and turning his head toward the door. "You don't think I know?"

"You know," Seth said, "but what you don't know is that it's important enough to get in trouble over. The truth is more important than the trouble it brings. The truth is everything.

"If you and I are gonna do something," Seth said, "we gotta do it right. Just tell her the truth. I got your back."

They pulled up in front of the house. The door swung open and his mom stepped out onto the porch, hands on her hips.

"Troy? What in the world?"

"It's okay," Seth said, holding up his hands to calm her.

"You told me you and your friends were walking the tracks," she said, glaring at Troy.

"We were!" Troy insisted. "And then...then..."

The answer came to him, slick and easy. A story about Tate going through the wall earlier in the day to see Seth's house and later realizing she lost the necklace her mom let her wear and her being in tears and begging Troy to go back with her to help find it and him feeling sorry for her and how he knew it was right to stick by your friends when they were in trouble.

"Then what?" his mother asked.

Troy swallowed. "The truth is, I wanted to go to Seth's to show him what I showed Gramp."

He looked up at Seth, who grinned and nodded his head.

"Tessa," Seth said, talking fast, "he is what he says. It was a preseason game Krock showed him. I thought it was pressure. You should have seen him just now. The guys are over, watching
Sunday Night Football
. He nailed it! He's a genius. A football genius. I'm not kidding."

His mom studied Seth for a minute before finally saying, "Do you want to come in?"

"I want to talk to you," Seth said, following her through the door.

"Coke?" she asked, leading them into the kitchen and pulling out a chair for Seth.

"Sure," Seth said, sitting down.

His mom opened two bottles and set them down on the table. She poured a glass of milk for Troy and put out a plate of her special chocolate chips made with dark chocolate. Then she sat down, put her elbows on the table, and braced her chin on her hands.

"He's twelve," she said, as if that were the beginning and the end of an argument. "I need this job."

"We had a rough start with Krock," Seth said. "But he's not the head coach. That's my plan. Go right to Coach McFadden."

"Didn't they bring Krock in because if Coach McFadden doesn't win, he's going to replace him? Even I know that," Troy's mom said. "Playing one off against the other? There's almost no way you can win and lots of ways you can lose."

"When they see what he can do, we'll all win," Seth said. He pushed the Coke aside and leaned toward Troy's mom with his muscular arms on the table. "We're oh and two, but we're a good team. With Josh Lock, and Troy, we could win it all. Everything. You know what that means?"

"I'd like the team to win," his mom said, "don't get me wrong. But winning or losing doesn't make or break me. Losing this job does. If this falls through, my old job is already gone. I've got bills. A mortgage. Credit cards."

"Mom," Troy said.

"Okay, okay," Seth said, holding up his hands. "I'll put my money where my mouth is. Ten grand. I get that as a bonus for every quarterback sack, so it's not that big a deal. If this doesn't work and you lose your job, that'll give you enough to get things going."

Troy looked at the player's face. Seth wore an easy smile and the eyes of a man who was used to helping people out of jams, happy to do it. Then he looked at his mom and watched the storm roll in. Her mouth turned down and her eyes got squinty.

"You can take that Coke with you, thank you very much," she said in a slow, seething voice. Her arm extended slowly out and her finger unfurled, pointing toward the door. "I won't tell you what you can do with it."

"What'd I say?" Seth said, touching his fingers to his chest.

"I've gone twelve years without handouts from
any
man," she said. "I sure as heck am not going to start now. You think I was asking you for money? Please. Just leave."

"I didn't mean--"

"I'm doing just fine. I didn't ask you to come here, remember? I know you're a big NFL star and people don't ask you to leave, but I'm asking and I'd appreciate it if you'd go. Now."

Seth clamped his mouth shut.

"Mom," Troy said when he could finally speak.

"You?" she said, shooting her eyes at him. "Lying. Sneaking around. Is this how I raised you? Gift from your father? Maybe that's it. Not listening. The gift of putting yourself before everyone else."

Seth's chair scraped back and he stood up. Troy's mom looked down at the table, still pointing her finger toward the door. Seth walked out, letting the screen door slam behind him, and a fat tear spattered the place mat beneath his mom's nose.

Troy felt too wounded by her words to feel sorry for her tears.