Puget Sound. Two ferries glided on the water, their lights twinkling in the black.
I tried to make sense of what had happened. I'd completely panicked, that I knew for sure. But everything else was murky. Had the guy really been coming toward us? Or was he just going for a walk?
I stared at Puget Sound for a while, my mind rolling like the waves, and then drove home. All night I kept waking up, then falling back asleep. I'd finally fallen into a deep sleep when my cell phone rang. It was eight in the morning, and it was summer, yet Alyssa was wide awake. "How are your football stories going?" she asked. "I'd like two, you know. A preview, and then a story about the game against Mater Dei on Saturday. Oh, and a volleyball preview, too."
"I'll have them all by next week," I said, my mind foggy.
"If you did the previews early, we could get the pages ready for publication. I want to have the September issue out as soon as possible, maybe even the first day."
"I'll get it to you as soon as I can, Alyssa."
Â
The volleyball preview was done, but the football preview was causing me nothing but trouble. For a solid hour I worked on it. I must have tried fifteen different hooks, but none worked. I'd write a few paragraphs only to have my ideas dwindle away. The whole time I was wasting my effort on those useless paragraphs, I could feel an imp sitting on my shoulder. "
Horst! Horst!
" the rascal kept whispering in my ear. "
Write about Horst!
" Finally I gave in, and once I focused on Horst, the article wrote itself.
7
T HE HIGH SCHOOL FOOTBALL SEASON in Seattle opens every year with the Seattle Challenge. Powerhouse teams from California fly up to square off against the best Puget Sound teams at Qwest Field, the Seahawks stadium. Because of Horst's growing reputation, Lincoln High had been invited, and we were matched against Mater Dei, a football factory from Southern California.
The morning of the game, my mom stopped me as I headed out the door for my run/walk. "You look slimmer, Dan." I grimaced, because I hate it when anyone says anything about my body, but she persisted. "Really, there's a change."
"You look taller, too," my dad called out. "I told you you'd grow."
I drove to the Locks, but before starting my run, I looked at my face in the rearview mirror. Were they right? Or did I still look like Wilbur from
Charlotte's Web,
which is how Heather Lowry had described me in eighth grade. I could still picture her: blond, curly-haired, with her wicked smile.
I stepped out of the car, not sure that my face looked thinner, not sure that my legs were longer, but hopeful. Then I went for my run. Each day I was running more and walking less; I could actually imagine a day when I'd run the whole way.
When I finished, I returned home and showered. I was done workingâschool was starting soon, and my parents gave me the last week of summer offâbut having nothing to do made me restless. I cleaned my closet and straightened up my desk. At three I called Kimi and asked if she needed a ride, but she was going with Marianne and Rachel, which is what I'd expected.
Â
Kickoff was at seven thirty, so I left at six thirty. As I drove, I kept changing channels on the radio. I was glad I didn't have any junk food in the car, because when I'm nervous, I eat. A mile from the stadium I panicked, certain I'd left my press pass at home on the kitchen table. I pulled my wallet out and rifled through it, my eyes darting back and forth from the road to the contents until I discovered the pass behind my driver's license.
I found a parking spot four blocks south of the stadium. I showed my pass at the press gate, and the usher waved me through. As I shoved the pass back into my wallet, I spotted Chet the Jet and my shoulders slumped. "Don't look so happy to see me," he said, smiling wryly. "And relax. This will be my only Lincoln game. You'll get plenty of chances to be my stringer."
I managed a weak smile. "I don't mind that
I tried to make sense of what had happened. I'd completely panicked, that I knew for sure. But everything else was murky. Had the guy really been coming toward us? Or was he just going for a walk?
I stared at Puget Sound for a while, my mind rolling like the waves, and then drove home. All night I kept waking up, then falling back asleep. I'd finally fallen into a deep sleep when my cell phone rang. It was eight in the morning, and it was summer, yet Alyssa was wide awake. "How are your football stories going?" she asked. "I'd like two, you know. A preview, and then a story about the game against Mater Dei on Saturday. Oh, and a volleyball preview, too."
"I'll have them all by next week," I said, my mind foggy.
"If you did the previews early, we could get the pages ready for publication. I want to have the September issue out as soon as possible, maybe even the first day."
"I'll get it to you as soon as I can, Alyssa."
Â
The volleyball preview was done, but the football preview was causing me nothing but trouble. For a solid hour I worked on it. I must have tried fifteen different hooks, but none worked. I'd write a few paragraphs only to have my ideas dwindle away. The whole time I was wasting my effort on those useless paragraphs, I could feel an imp sitting on my shoulder. "
Horst! Horst!
" the rascal kept whispering in my ear. "
Write about Horst!
" Finally I gave in, and once I focused on Horst, the article wrote itself.
7
T HE HIGH SCHOOL FOOTBALL SEASON in Seattle opens every year with the Seattle Challenge. Powerhouse teams from California fly up to square off against the best Puget Sound teams at Qwest Field, the Seahawks stadium. Because of Horst's growing reputation, Lincoln High had been invited, and we were matched against Mater Dei, a football factory from Southern California.
The morning of the game, my mom stopped me as I headed out the door for my run/walk. "You look slimmer, Dan." I grimaced, because I hate it when anyone says anything about my body, but she persisted. "Really, there's a change."
"You look taller, too," my dad called out. "I told you you'd grow."
I drove to the Locks, but before starting my run, I looked at my face in the rearview mirror. Were they right? Or did I still look like Wilbur from
Charlotte's Web,
which is how Heather Lowry had described me in eighth grade. I could still picture her: blond, curly-haired, with her wicked smile.
I stepped out of the car, not sure that my face looked thinner, not sure that my legs were longer, but hopeful. Then I went for my run. Each day I was running more and walking less; I could actually imagine a day when I'd run the whole way.
When I finished, I returned home and showered. I was done workingâschool was starting soon, and my parents gave me the last week of summer offâbut having nothing to do made me restless. I cleaned my closet and straightened up my desk. At three I called Kimi and asked if she needed a ride, but she was going with Marianne and Rachel, which is what I'd expected.
Â
Kickoff was at seven thirty, so I left at six thirty. As I drove, I kept changing channels on the radio. I was glad I didn't have any junk food in the car, because when I'm nervous, I eat. A mile from the stadium I panicked, certain I'd left my press pass at home on the kitchen table. I pulled my wallet out and rifled through it, my eyes darting back and forth from the road to the contents until I discovered the pass behind my driver's license.
I found a parking spot four blocks south of the stadium. I showed my pass at the press gate, and the usher waved me through. As I shoved the pass back into my wallet, I spotted Chet the Jet and my shoulders slumped. "Don't look so happy to see me," he said, smiling wryly. "And relax. This will be my only Lincoln game. You'll get plenty of chances to be my stringer."
I managed a weak smile. "I don't mind that
Similar Books
