Lacrosse Face-Off (4 page)

Jeff came away with the ball and instantly threw it to Garry. But the throw was wild, and the ball sailed over the sideline.
The ref blew his whistle and awarded possession to the Panthers. A Panther midfielder retrieved the ball, stepped back onto
the field, and play resumed.

This time, it ended with a Panthers goal. Christopher, the Rockets goalie, swept his stick through the grass, clearly disgusted
with himself. As Garry returned to the midfield line for the face-off, he couldn't help noticing the deep scowl on Michael's
face.

“Hey, it's just one goal,” he called to the center. “We'll still get 'em!”

“We better,” Michael snarled, “because if this is a loser team, we're going to have to make some changes.”

G
arry didn't have time to wonder what Michael meant by “changes.” The ref placed the ball between Michael and the Panthers
center, and the battle for the ball began again.

Seven minutes and a great deal of running, passing, throwing, and scoring later, the first ten-minute quarter ended. The score
was 5-4 in favor of the Rockets. Michael had scored all but one of the goals for their team. As he walked to the bench, he
accepted congratulations from his teammates. Evan praised him the loudest, giving a play-by-play of each goal between gulps
of water.

“Man, you
killed
their defenseman when you did that pick-and-roll right at the top of the crease! Then it was
zoom
and into the net. Totally sweet.”

Garry was pleased they were winning too, but if being ahead meant listening to Evan kiss up to Michael, he almost wished they
were losing.

During the break, Coach Hasbrouck announced some substitutions. “Garry, you and Conor stay in. Michael, come on out for a
well-deserved rest. Evan, move up to his position. Andrew, take Evan's place at midfield. Christopher, I'm going to keep you
in goal for now, but let's see Todd go in for Carl, and Pedro in for Eric. The rest of you, stay in your positions but be
on the lookout for subs on the fly.”

Garry snuck a look at Michael. The coach had said he wanted Michael on the bench for a “well-deserved rest,” but Garry could
tell that Michael resented being taken out of the game. Michael pulled Evan aside and whispered intently in his ear. Evan
chewed his bottom lip and nodded. Then the ref whistled for the second quarter to begin, and the Rockets hurried onto the
field.

“Okay, people, let's take these guys for everything!” Evan cried. Although his words were meant to show strength, Garry thought
the older boy sounded nervous.

This should be interesting,
he thought. He wondered what Michael had said to him.

“Go, Todd! Go, Garry!”

The sound of his mother's voice reminded Garry that Todd was now in the game. He looked back to see how his brother was doing.
He couldn't see his face behind the mask, but the way he was shifting from foot to foot told Garry that his brother was either
as nervous as Evan or else so ready to play that he couldn't stand still.

Garry prayed it was the latter but feared the worst. After all, how good could his brother be after less than two weeks of
playing a sport that most of the other players—including the competition—had all been playing for years?

He got an answer to that question soon after the face-off. Evan fought hard for the ball, but it was the Panthers that gained
possession.

“Fast break!” Garry heard the Panthers ball carrier yell.

A second Panthers attacker cut to the center of the field, leaving Samuel three steps behind him. The ball carrier threw the
ball, and the attacker caught it at a dead run. Garry thought the new ball carrier would head for the goal, but instead he
dished the ball back to the first Panther, who had run up alongside him in anticipation of the pass. Now they
were within attack range, with only Christopher and the defensemen to deal with. One of those defensemen was Todd.

“Bodycheck him! Bodycheck him!” Garry muttered through clenched teeth. As if he'd heard his brother, Todd put his shoulder
down and charged the ball carrier.

Unfortunately, Pedro had the same idea. He reached the Panther a split second before Todd did. Pedro's shoulder connected
with the Panther's midsection—and Todd's shoulder connected with Pedro's back. The three boys tumbled to the ground, the ball
bounced out of bounds behind the goal, and the ref rushed forward, blowing his whistle and waving his arms to stop the clock.

The boys slowly untangled themselves and stood up. Garry could hear his brother apologizing to Pedro, but Pedro just waved
him off. Possession was awarded to the Panthers
since one of their players was closest to the place where the ball went out of bounds. Moments later, they scored to tie the
game.

“Wallis, you're out!” Garry heard someone yell as he jogged back to the midfield. He shook his head. He felt sorry for his
brother for seeing so little game time. But he understood why the coach was sending a sub in for him. He'd do the same thing
in Coach Hasbrouck's place.

“Garry, what are you, deaf? Didn't you hear me tell you you're out?”

Garry spun around in surprise. Carl was gesturing wildly for him to get off the field.

“Me?”
Garry asked even as he backpedaled over the sideline. Carl just ignored him and got into position for the face-off.

As he approached the team bench, Garry looked to see who else was sitting there. When he didn't see his brother, he realized
that Todd must still be in the game. He
turned his attention back to the field—and sucked in his breath. Todd
was
on the field, but he wasn't playing defense anymore. He was on the front line with Carl and Jeff. Evan was on defense.

Michael, however, was still out of the game. Garry took one look at the seventh-grader's dark scowl and hurried to a spot
at the opposite end of the bench.

P
lay started up again. Carl managed to clamp the ball during the face-off, but when he tried to send it to a teammate it rolled
free and a Panther scooped it up.

The Panthers quickly penetrated past the Rockets midfielders. Then an attacker bobbled the ball. Evan scooped it up right
from in front of the Rockets goal and cleared it out to Jeff, who was dancing along the sideline.

It was a soft throw. Jeff had to lunge with his stick outstretched, pocket skyward, to make the catch. Once he had the ball,
he swung the stick, head up high, and made a
beeline for the opposite end of the field. As he ran he moved his stick to his right hand, twisting it in a perfect one-handed
cradle, and held off a Panther with the other. A few steps later he stopped short, put his free hand on the stick, and jerked
a quick pass to Todd.

Garry squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them again, he was amazed to see that his brother had made the catch and was
running toward the goal. Unfortunately, Todd must have forgotten to cradle the ball. After a few steps the ball flew out of
the pocket and bounced onto the field toward a Panthers midfielder's feet.

The Panther scooped it up and hurled it to where his teammate waited at the sideline. Three quick passes and one shot on goal
later, the Panthers had added another point to their side of the scoreboard.

Garry clenched his teeth to keep himself from yelling. Michael threw up his hands
and shook his head, plainly disgusted. Others on the bench grumbled and shifted in their seats.

As Todd, Carl, and Jeff returned to the midfield for the face-off, Coach Hasbrouck called for a time-out. Then he gestured
for Todd to come to the sideline.

“At last,” Garry heard Michael mutter. The older boy stood up, grabbed his stick, and prepared to run onto the field at the
coach's signal.

But Coach Hasbrouck didn't pull Todd from the game. Instead, he spoke to the boy while demonstrating something with Todd's
stick. Todd frowned at first, then nodded his understanding.

What is going on?
Garry wondered. He found out a moment later. When the ref blew his whistle to restart play, Todd rushed onto the field—and
right to the center, for the face-off.

Michael sagged back onto the bench. “You have
got
to be kidding me,” he said.

Garry didn't say anything, but inside he was thinking the same thing.
Todd, taking the face-off? Is the coach out of his mind?

It came as no surprise to Garry that Todd didn't win the stick war. What did surprise him was what Todd did next. As the Panthers
attacker sent the ball to his teammate, Todd lowered a shoulder and bodychecked him. Unfortunately, by the time he hit the
Panther, the attacker no longer had the ball. And Todd's shoulder struck him in the small of the back.

The whistle shrieked. “One-minute penalty, illegal checking!” the ref yelled, pointing at Todd. Todd looked to the coach,
clearly unsure of what to do. The coach motioned for him to step off the field into the penalty box. Once Todd crossed the
sideline, play resumed.

Since the Rockets were down a player, the Panthers had a big advantage. They used it well, sending the ball past the middies
and jockeying for position near the goal. The Rockets defense did the best they could to stay on top of their opponents, but
the Panthers were just too quick. The ball carrier slashed his stick downward and the ball flew into the net.

“Oh, come
on!”
Michael yelled. He stood up and paced behind the bench. When Todd went back onto the field to take another face-off, Michael
smacked his fist so hard against the bench that Garry could feel the vibrations at the other end.

Man, am I glad it's not
me
he's mad at!
he was thinking, when suddenly a heavy hand grabbed his shoulder and twisted him around.

“You and me, we're going to have a little talk after the game,” Michael growled. “Behind the bleachers. Be there—or else.”

G
arry, Michael, and two other Rockets went back into the game shortly before the halftime break. Garry played well and even
managed to score a few goals.

But it was Michael who took control of the game. He threw with such force that Garry could hear the mesh of his pocket sing.
He pushed past, dodged around, and spun away from Panthers players as if his life depended upon it. A few times he bodychecked
an opponent so hard that the other player was knocked backward. Nothing he did was illegal—it was just much more aggressive
than Garry was used to.

Garry suspected that the Panthers weren't used to such play either. He almost felt sorry for them. The more forceful Michael
became, the farther they stayed away from him. By the end of the third quarter, Michael was scoring nearly every time he had
the ball. When Coach Hasbrouck took him out midway through the fourth quarter, the Rockets were up fifteen goals to the Panthers'
seven. Even though Michael had played in the attack position for only part of the game, he had scored twelve of those fifteen.

The game ended ten minutes later. The Rockets won easily, with the final score 20-11. They gave a cheer for the Panthers and
slapped hands with them down the line, then started to gather up their gear.

“Good game, good game,” Coach Hasbrouck said to each player.

Garry was picking up his equipment bag
when someone grabbed his arm and pulled him behind the bleachers. It was Evan.

“Hey, what gives?” Garry said, snatching his arm out of Evan's grasp and rubbing it.

“Michael wants to talk to you, remember?” Evan growled as Michael stepped out from the shadows.

“Sorry about the arm, Gar,” Michael said, giving Evan a disapproving look. “Man, Evan, take it easy next time, will you? I
mean, really, Garry's one of our best players, and you practically tear his arm out of its socket! Apologize to him.”

Evan stared daggers at Garry. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“Whatever,” Garry said, turning his back on him. “What do you want, anyway?” he asked Michael.

Michael spread his hands. “Look, it's like this. Last year, our lacrosse team was number one in the league.”

“That's because you were the top scorer!” Evan piped in.

Michael preened. “True, I did lead the league in goals. And I plan to do that again this year. But I also want to win the
division title again, and I can't do that alone. I need solid players behind me, like you. And Evan, of course.”

Evan grinned, reminding Garry of the puppy again.

“Unfortunately,” Michael continued, “there are some people on the team who are dragging the rest of us down. If the league
allowed players to be cut, I know of one person who'd be gone in a second.” He looked meaningfully at Garry. “I think you
know who I'm talking about.”

“Okay, so my brother's not the greatest,” Garry said. “But what do you expect me to do about it? I can't make him a good player
overnight!”

“No,” Michael agreed smoothly. “But you can convince him to quit.”

Garry stared at him in disbelief.

“We'll be a stronger team without T.T.'s dead weight,” Michael added.

Evan snickered. “'Dead weight.' I get it! 'Cause Todd's, like, fat and all!”

Michael shot a disapproving look at the other boy. Evan stopped laughing. That's when Garry heard his mother calling his name.

“I—I gotta go,” he said.

Michael shot a finger gun at him. “Just think about what I said.”

Garry hurried away without replying.

“There you are!” his mother said. “What were you doing?”

“Nothing. I thought I saw a dollar bill back there, but it was just a piece of trash.” Garry picked up his equipment bag.
“Where's Todd?”

His mother pointed toward the parking lot. “There, with Jeff. He said something about dueling cards.” She looked closely at
Garry. “Why? Did you need him for something? If you hurry, you can probably catch him before they take off.”

Garry shook his head. “No, that's okay. I'll see him at home later, I guess.”

He and his mother were heading home when suddenly she swerved into the library parking lot. “I almost forgot! I promised Dad
I'd get him a new audiobook to listen to in the car. Why don't you come in with me and find something good to read while I'm
looking?”