Takedown by Rich Wallace Page A

hours away.

12
    The Pressure Builds
    “Y ou don’t have much to say, huh?” Manny asked after they’d walked most of the way to school in silence.
    “Too much in my head,” Donald replied. “Just thinking about the match.”
    “I been there,” Manny said. “Pre-event jitters.”
    “This is like pre-event flu or something. Way beyond jitters.”
    “You’ll survive.”
    They entered the school and went straight for their lockers, where a group of guys always gathered in the minutes before the bell. Calvin and Anthony and Kendrick were there, laughing about something that had happened in a class the day before.
    Donald grabbed his books and walked straight toward his homeroom.
    “Where are you going?” Anthony called. “What, do we have bad breath or something?”
    Donald turned and smirked at him. “Of course you do. But I have to finish some homework. I’ll see you later.”
    That was a lie. His homework was all done, but he was in no mood for joking around this morning. Tonight. After the match. He’d be feeling better by then.
    As long as he won, that is.
     
     
    Donald carried his lunch bag across the cafeteria and sat near the trash cans with his back to the room. Manny and Calvin and Anthony were at their usual table, but Donald couldn’t bring himself to join them. He slowly chewed his peanut-butter sandwich and stared at the wall.
    He had no appetite, but he knew he’d have to force this sandwich down. He was already a nervous wreck; he didn’t need to be weak and under-fueled, too.
    All around him kids were talking and laughing, relieved to have a break from the classroom. A few people said hello, but Donald just grunted or nodded back.
    He just might get pinned again this afternoon. Maybe he was kidding himself to think otherwise. He opened his math book and laid it flat, pretending to be studying. But every thought he had was about wrestling.
    After a few minutes he glanced around; everybody was emptying their trays and getting ready to go back to class. The clock said 11:55. Four more hours until the match.
     
     
    Donald hustled into math class seconds before the bell rang. He could feel Mrs. Epstein’s eyes on him. He looked up as she made a notation on her attendance sheet.
    Kendrick tossed a crumpled piece of paper at Donald, hitting him in the arm. “How come you snubbed us at lunch?” he asked.
    Donald shrugged. “Just wanted to be alone.”
    “Why?”
    “You know. The match.”
    “That’s three hours away.”
    “Think I don’t know that? I’ve been counting the hours since yesterday.”
    “I try not to think about it.”
    “I can’t do anything but.”
    Mrs. Epstein cleared her throat. Donald turned to face the front of the classroom. But he spent most of the period staring at his notebook, where he’d written a single word: FINISH!
     
     
    What a relief it was to get to the locker room. He hadn’t paid attention in any of his classes. Now he could fully concentrate on the task at hand.
    He put on his uniform and his warm-up suit, then took his headgear from his locker. There was still a good hour before the match would begin, but at least there were no more distractions.
    They warmed up as a team, with Tavo and Freddy leading the stretching and limbering. Then Coach gathered them back in the locker room for a pep talk and strategy session.
    Donald would be up first again. His match didn’t count in the team scoring, but it still meant a huge deal to him. This wasn’t practice. The boys in the blue uniforms were invaders in the Hudson City gym.
    He waved to his father, who had just entered the gym and was heading toward the bleachers. Dad raised his fist and mouthed, “Good luck.”
    Donald stretched his arms high overhead, then slowly reached for his toes. He looked across the gym. Warming up behind the Palisades bench was a short wrestler with wide shoulders and an expression that seemed to say TOUGH in capital letters. That was the guy he’d be wrestling. It had