First and Ten (12 page)

Ricky just stared straight ahead.

“If you don't tell someone, I will,” Matt said.

Ricky glanced at Matt as if he was mulling over the idea. Finally he nodded his head. “Okay,” he said wearily.

It was only 7:30 am, but the lights were already on in Ms. Dawson's room. Matt knew nobody else would be in there at this time of day. Ricky would be able to talk to her alone.

Ms. Dawson was sitting at her desk, leaning over some marking, deep in concentration. Matt had to knock on the classroom door to get her attention. She looked up from her work. “Matt,” she said warmly, her hazel eyes lighting up. “What are you doing here so early? Advisory's not for another hour, kid.”

Matt stepped aside and ushered Ricky Jackson into the room. “Ricky needs to talk to you, Ms. Dawson,” he said. “It's pretty important.”

The teacher took one look at Ricky's swollen eye and bruised face and walked quickly toward him. She remained calm, but Matt could tell she was concerned.

“Matt, can you give Ricky and me some privacy?” Ms. Dawson said. “And thank you for coming to see me. You're a good friend.”

Matt blushed. He left Ricky and Ms. Dawson standing there in the classroom beside her desk. Jackson was still crying softly.

Matt hoped he had done the right thing. But Ricky was obviously hurt and upset. What else was there to do? Normally a guy could talk to his parents in a situation like this. But that obviously wasn't an option.

Matt thought about Ricky's badly bruised face all day. He didn't see him in the halls, and Ricky was missing from practice.

“Okay, boys,” the coach said, during the Monday afternoon briefing. “We're down to the final week and we're still alive. That's a tribute to you guys. You've shown a lot of guts over the last couple of weeks. Now, we've got one game left this Friday against Manning. Beat those guys and we're still in the hunt. I know you guys can do it.”

The players roared in agreement. The pace of practice was quicker than usual for a Monday. As the season wound down, the intensity level had steadily cranked up every week. Matt was sure the Stingers would be ready for Manning come Friday.

Matt was exhausted as practice came to an end at 5:30 pm. He was looking forward to just heading home and flopping down on the couch. There was no homework to do tonight, and he could afford to rest. It had been a long day.

Phil's parents had picked him up after practice to go out for dinner, so Matt was alone as he headed home. Half a block along Anderson Crescent he heard somebody calling his name.

It was Ricky Jackson. He was running to catch up. Matt stopped and waited. “Hey, Rick,” he said.

“Hey,” replied Jackson. “I tried to find you outside the locker room, but you were already gone.”

Jackson was wearing a bandage across his left eyebrow and another one underneath his eye. “The nurse had a look at me,” he said, pointing to his face. “The social worker came around too,” Ricky continued. “I just wanted to tell you. They're going to put me and Grant in another home for a while.”

Matt was stunned. “Oh, man, Ricky, I'm sorry,” he said. “I didn't mean to mess things up for you guys.”

“It's okay,” Jackson said quietly. “I mean, it's not the first time the social worker has talked to me and my brother. And it's not the first time he's hit me.”

“You mean your dad?” Matt asked.

Jackson nodded. “He's always mad. I mean, I think he's trying to do what's best for us, but it never works out. Then he gets angry. And when he gets like that, you can't talk to him.”

“Lately, it's been crazy,” Ricky continued. “Him and Grant went at it twice last week. After Grant found out that he beat me up, they went at it again. I mean, he's my dad and everything, but it's too weird. And when he's like that, I hate him.”

The words were spilling out of Ricky Jackson now. Matt felt sorry for him. But he also admired anybody who could survive being put in such a horrible situation.

“Bet your old man isn't like that,” Jackson said.

“No,” Matt said. “I mean, I don't know him that well, but I don't think so.”

“What do you mean, you don't know him?” Ricky asked.

Matt explained that his dad had left home when Matt was three years old and had shown up again only a few weeks ago. Even though it was a new relationship with his dad, Matt realized that, compared to Jackson, he had it easy.

“I guess both our families are screwed up,” Ricky said, laughing.

Matt laughed too. “Guess so,” he said.

Matt suddenly had an idea. His mom was making dinner right now. She probably wouldn't mind having an unexpected guest. “Hey, Rick, do you want to come over for supper?” he said.

Jackson smiled. “I'd love to, man, but I can't. The social worker is at the school waiting for me. I just wanted to talk to you before she took me to the house where Grant and I will be staying.”

“Okay, then,” Matt said. “Some other time.”

“For sure,” Jackson said as he headed back toward the school. “And thanks.”

chapter seventeen

As Matt headed home, his head was spinning. What Ricky had just told him blew his mind. On the one hand, he was happy his friend was going to a safe home that night, but he also felt partially responsible for Ricky's family being split up.

He was still mulling things over during supper. His mom called him on it after just a few minutes.

“Matt,” she said, “what's up with you tonight? You've hardly said a thing and you don't seem that hungry. Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Matt sighed. “I mean, no. I'm kind of wondering if something I did today was the right thing.”

He told his mom everything.

“I know you told me to stay away from Ricky,” Matt said. “But he was messed up. I didn't know what to do. Maybe I should have just minded my own business.”

She looked him in the eye. “What you did,” she said, “was wonderful. I'm so proud that you tried to help that boy out.”

“But did I really help him?” Matt wondered. “I mean, he's in a foster home now. His family is split up. His mother was already gone. Now he's lost his dad too. At least for a while.”

“It sounds like his dad has some issues to work through,” Mom said. “And of course you helped him. And Grant too.”

Matt thought about it. He had actually helped Grant Jackson? That was hard to believe. Ricky's older brother had been constantly in Matt's face during the seventh grade, trying to pick fights with him and causing trouble. But now Matt had a little more insight into why Grant was the way he was.

“I tell you what, Mom,” he said. “It makes me realize how lucky I am.”

She reached across the table and hugged him. “I'm pretty lucky myself,” she whispered softly.

After clearing the table, Matt was just getting his coat on to take out the garbage when the phone rang. “It's for you, Matt,” his mother called from the living room.

He picked up the telephone in the kitchen. It was Charlie.

“Hey, Matt, I just heard about Ricky,” Charlie said. “I knew his old man was nuts, but that's pretty scary.”

“Yeah, it is,” Matt said. “The kid was pretty messed up.”

“I bet I know why,” Charlie said. “As he was pulling Ricky into the car, I heard his dad say that Ricky should have been the one kicking that field goal against Mandela. He said no gimp should be able to beat his kid out of a kicking job.”

Matt was silent. The dead air was awkward.

“He was talking about me,” Charlie said.

“That's pretty ignorant,” Matt replied. “I'm sure that's not how Ricky feels.”

“Ricky's a good guy,” Charlie said. “I mean, he was the one who told Coach that I should be kicking. I feel kind of responsible for him getting beaten up.”

“Hey, Charlie,” Matt said, “it wasn't your fault. It wasn't Ricky's fault. His dad has got problems. I feel sorry for the kid.”

“Yeah,” said Charlie.

“And besides,” Matt added, “Ricky was right.”

“What do you mean?”

“You were the best choice to make that kick.”

“Thanks, man,” Charlie said. “See you at school.”

After getting off the phone with Charlie and taking out the trash, Matt realized how tired he was. He headed up to his bedroom. But before turning in, he clicked on his computer. He had another e-mail from Andrea.

Heard what you did today,
she wrote.
Matt,
that was great of you to help Ricky. Especially
after all the problems you have had with
Grant.

Just one more thing to add to my long list of
reasons: “Why I like Matt Hill,” Luv, Andrea.

Andrea's words made Matt feel warm inside. As he crawled into bed and turned out the light, he thought back to how crazily the day had started. But at least now, things all seemed to be going in the right direction.

Tuesday was a pretty normal school day compared to the way the week had begun. Matt walked to South Side with Jake and Phil, as usual. He talked to Amar before advisory and then had lunch with Andrea and a couple of her friends in the main foyer of the school. Between periods in the afternoon, he ran into Ricky. His face was already looking a lot better. Ricky nodded at him and smiled. But both of them had to hurry to a class in the opposite direction.

Practice was intense that afternoon. Kyle James seemed to be healthy and was back on the field and Nate Brown was running full steam. Matt and Ricky spent much of the session watching from the sidelines as the two senior starters took most of the reps.

“Okay, that's it,” Coach Reynolds yelled at five thirty. “Everybody hit the showers. We'll see you tomorrow.”

Matt walked toward the locker room with Ricky, Kyle and Nate. Up ahead, a dark-haired figure in a leather jacket was coming toward them. It was Grant Jackson, Ricky's brother.

Matt tensed. Since Grant had moved on to South Side High School, Matt hadn't seen him at all. He wondered if Grant still had it in for him, especially considering the situation with Ricky.

Charlie and Phil suddenly caught up to Matt. It was just like them, he thought. They were getting his back in case there was going to be trouble.

“Hey, Hill,” Grant said, “got a minute?”

Matt stopped. “Sure.” Phil, Charlie and the rest of the players moved slowly on ahead. Only Grant, Ricky and Matt remained standing by the chain-link fence that lined the South Side field, the same fence Frank Jackson had leaned over for all those practice sessions.

“I heard what you did yesterday,” Grant said.

“Yeah, well, I…,” Matt began.

“I just wanted to say thanks,” the elder Jackson continued. “Our dad is pretty screwed up. He wants everything to be perfect, and when it isn't he goes crazy. He's impossible to live with, and he's especially tough on Ricky. It's been that way ever since our mom died.”

Matt didn't know how to respond. He would never have expected Grant to thank him for anything.

“Something had to change,” Grant continued, looking down. “But it's not easy to tell anybody when something like that's going on. So thanks for taking Ricky to see that teacher.”

Matt nodded. Grant turned to his brother. “Come on, Rick,” he said. “We've got a bus to catch.”

“Later, Hill,” Grant said.

“Later,” Matt replied. “See you tomorrow, Ricky.”

Phil and Charlie were waiting inside the locker room, bursting to hear about what had happened with Grant Jackson. “Was he pissed?” said Phil.

“You guys didn't scrap, did you?” Charlie added.

“No,” Matt said, “he was cool. He just wanted to say thanks for helping out Ricky.”

Even as Matt delivered that news to his two dumbstruck friends, he still had trouble believing it himself.

chapter eighteen

The phone rang at seven thirty Friday morning. Nobody called that early unless it was an emergency. Matt picked up the phone by his bed.

“Hey, Matt.” It was his father. “I thought you'd want to hear the news as early as possible.”

“What news?” he said, yawning.

“The good news for the South Side Stingers,” his dad replied. “Last night's score: Churchill twenty-one, Central twenty.”

Matt felt his heart thumping faster. The Stingers had a chance that night to clinch the conference title and advance to the playoffs. All they had to do was beat Manning and they were in.

“That's awesome,” he told his dad. “Are you coming to the game?”

“I'll be there.”

Matt hung up. Although it was early, he bounded downstairs to the front porch to pick up the
Post
. A shot at the playoffs. What a great way to start off the day.

Word had spread quickly at school. By noon, red-and-white ribbons with the slogan
Beat
Manning!
were being sold at the pep team stand. Posters showing a gigantic hornet stinging a hapless Minuteman ball carrier into submission were plastered in the hallways. There was a buzz across campus, and every player on the team could feel it.

Matt was just heading to the locker room after the final bell of the day when he passed Andrea in the hallway. She was dressed in her full maroon-and-white South Side soccer uniform with the long striped socks and black cleats. “We've got a game at Manning today,” she said. “I won't be able to come to your game, but I wanted to say good luck.”

“You too,” Matt said.

Andrea hugged him. Standing on tiptoes, she kissed Matt on the cheek. “Bye,” she said.

“See ya,” Matt replied, his face flushing. He looked around as students passed them in the hallway.

Matt continued to the locker room, more excited than ever about the game and their chances of making the playoffs. He was a little disappointed Andrea couldn't be there to see the game, but his mom and dad were coming. The idea still seemed weird. For so long it had been just him and his mom.