Two-Minute Drill - Mike Lupica [30]
It was Mrs. Conlan’s turn to drive them home after practice. From the front seat now she said, “Please tell me you two aren’t going to go on this way all the way to Scott’s house.”
Her face smiling at them in the rearview mirror.
“We’re done,” Chris said.
“No, we’re not,” Scott said, not letting go.
“You’ve never thrown a pass that wobbly in your life.”
“How many times do I have to tell you?” Chris said. “Bren hit me just as I released the ball.”
“I heard Bren say he hit you right after you released the ball,” Scott said.
“Who are you going to believe,” Chris said. “Your best friend or Jimmy Dolan’s?”
Scott didn’t say anything right away.
“I’m waiting,” Chris said.
“I believe you,” Scott said, adding, “I guess.”
They were pulling into his driveway by then. Scott thanked Mrs. Conlan for the ride and reminded Chris that they were studying together tomorrow even though there were teacher conferences, which meant no school.
Chris said, “So now I have school even when there’s no school.”
“Pretty much,” Scott said.
“Am I a lucky guy, or what?” Chris said.
Scott walked through the front door smiling, thinking it was funny how things worked out, how what had started out to be one of the worst days of his life had turned with him making that pick on Jeremy. How when the season started, he would have given anything to make a play like that, even in practice.
But that wasn’t what had him smiling.
He knew that one play wasn’t going to change things, not really.
No.
What had him smiling was that Chris Conlan had called him his best friend.
SEVENTEEN
The Eagles beat the Lions the next Saturday even without scoring an offensive touchdown, even without Jimmy, their best blocker on offense and their best tackler on defense. Bren Mahoney ran back an interception all the way for one score, Jeremy Sharp returned the second half kickoff for a touchdown, and the final score was 12-6.
No extra points in the game. Nobody ever even tried to kick in their league, the teams always went for two points, but today nobody had been able to convert after any of the touchdowns.
Jimmy showed up for the game on crutches, though Scott noticed he was moving around pretty well without them a couple of times when he thought nobody was watching him.
Scott did a good job of avoiding him for most of the game, but with two minutes to go, Jimmy came over and stood next to him.
“Good game, brain,” he said. Then, “Oops, my bad. I guess you didn’t get in.”
Scott moved away from him.
Jimmy, hopping on his crutches, moved with him. “Ask you a question, brain?”
There was no way to avoid this guy, on the field or off. “Sure,” Scott said. “Why not?”
Jimmy said, “Why are you still here?”
“You mean why am I still here having a conversation with you?”
“You know what I mean. Why are you even on this team?”
Scott said, “None of your business.”
“You don’t do anything,” Jimmy continued. “The only guy on the team who likes you is Chris. So why don’t you just quit?”
Scott felt himself clenching his fists, trying to decide what hurt more, that Jimmy was saying these things or that he was saying all the things Scott had thought about himself all season, even after he made up his mind not to do what Jimmy wanted him to do.
He turned and looked at Jimmy.
“I’m sort of wasting my time here,” Scott said, “because I’m gonna tell you something you’re not going to understand.”
Jimmy frowned, not sure if he was being insulted or not.
“Watch it, brain. I only need one good leg to kick your butt.”
“Yeah, I know how tough you are. But even you have to know by now that if you knock me down, I’ll get back up.”
“Whatever. You still haven’t answered my question.”
“Sometimes,” Scott said, “guys love the game even if it doesn’t love them back.”
Now Scott walked away, walked down the sideline and cheered for Chris and the rest of the guys on offense as they tried to run out the clock.
For once, Jimmy didn’t follow.
Scott and Chris made a deal:
No matter what happened, in football