Double Fake by Rich Wallace Page B

stretch was undeveloped—just trees and boulders and narrow paths. It was a good place to while away an hour or so, watching the boats on the river and the traffic on Palisades Avenue running from Jersey City to Hoboken. It was a bit of an oasis amid the glass and steel and concrete of one of the world’s busiest metropolitan areas.
    “We gotta get the jump on those guys tonight,” Calvin said, tossing a stick down the hill at a rock several feet away. He missed. “We always seem to be falling behind to good teams and then scrambling our way back. Would be nice to get an early lead for a change.”
    Zero kept looking at the river. Then he turned toward Calvin in a hurry and said, “What?”
    “Nothing.”
    “I wasn’t listening.”
    “I know. I said we need to start fast.”
    “When?”
    “ Tonight . In the game.”
    “Oh.”
    Calvin leaned back against a tree. All he could think about was the game. Seemed like Zero hadn’t given it a second thought.
    “Don’t worry so much,” Zero said. “We’ll rise to the occasion. We always do.”
    “Do we?”
    “Usually.”
    Calvin picked up a pebble and fired at the rock again. This time he hit it, and the pebble bounded down the hill.
    “Nice shot,” Zero said, with just a touch of sarcasm.
    Calvin frowned. He had a lot of energy to burn. He needed to keep it in check until tonight.
     
    They arrived at halftime of the first playoff game. Bauer Electric had a 2-0 lead over the Grotto and appeared to be comfortably headed for the finals. A big, noisy crowd was on hand to watch, filling the small bleachers and lined up along the sidelines.
    Calvin hadn’t eaten dinner. All he’d ingested since that chicken sandwich at lunchtime had been a nectarine and a glass of orange juice. There was a light breeze and the heat had eased off a bit. The temperature was in the low eighties.
    Zero and Calvin set their cleats and their game shirts on the lowest step of the bleachers and walked to the sideline to watch the second half.
    The Grotto scored a goal and seemed to steal the momentum for a few minutes. But then Danielle Rosado made a breathtaking series of fakes and found her cousin Johnny wide open for a goal that quickly deflated their opponents. Jessie scored again a few minutes later.
    By then, the Hector’s Garage players were doing some warm-up drills on the grass near the refreshment stand, decked out in lime green jerseys and shouting in Spanish and English.
    Calvin looked around for his teammates. Peter and Julie were talking in the bleachers, not even watching the game. Angel and Orlando were stretched out on the grass, looking at the sky.
    “Think they’re ready?” Calvin said to Zero.
    “Everybody gets ready in their own way,” Zero said. He looked around and chewed on his lower lip. “Maybe we better take charge, though.”
    So they got the team together and passed a ball around until the coach arrived.
     
    First half. Calvin started at sweeper and Zero at midfield. Coach had said before the game that he wanted Zero in the action all night instead of at goaltender.
    Hector’s had a couple of short, quick forwards who were skilled dribblers and played a possession style of soccer, patiently moving the ball around and occasionally making an assault on the goal.
    Calvin’s early jitters turned to confidence as Little Italy repeatedly thwarted Hector’s offensive drives. Most of the play was near the middle of the field. The half ended without any scoring.
    Trotting off the field, Calvin nodded toward his parents and little sister, who were standing in the bleachers and clapping. He took a seat on the bench and drank some water. So far, so good.
    “Midfield,” Coach said, pointing to Calvin. “Take control.”
    “Got it,” Calvin said. That had been his second-half role all season. He’d have Angel alongside him, with Zero, Mary, and Orlando on the front line.
    Calvin tapped Angel on the shoulder. The younger player looked up at him, eyes