Over the End Line (19 page)

Inside the school, the PA system crackled.

"
Attention, students ... The date for the SATs is Saturday, November fifteenth ... The doors will
open at seven thirty a.m.... Congratulations to the varsity soccer team winning the Essex County title ... A big cheer for Jonny Fehey who scored the winning goal ... On Wednesday, there will be a ceremony to place the team trophy in the Hall of Champions display case...
"

The hallway continued to buzz with conversations. People were walking this way and that way. Locker doors were opening and closing. This was insane. Didn't anyone realize what happened this weekend? And I'm not talking about some damn soccer game.

Of course, no one could've known. If the girl walked past me right now, would I even recognize her? Could I see beyond whatever expression was on her face and know the hurting underneath? I looked around me. I saw one girl. Then another. Then every girl within my view. All with smiling, laughing, happy faces.

***

I was running hard, but not really. Trying to make the effort look good, knowing it was bullshit. The ball came to me on a pass from Richie. It bounced off my cleats as if they were made of stone. I recovered, sort of, and dropped a pass back to Kyle. It was all I felt capable of doing—giving up the ball as quickly as possible. Only two days ago, I'd scored the sudden-death overtime goal to win the county title. I should've been flying high, enjoying the defining moment of my life.

Pennyweather slammed his clipboard to the ground. "What the hell's going on?"

Players stopped and stood, fists on their hips.

"Some of you guys are going through the motions. Fellas, if you think the state title is just gonna be handed to you, you're woefully mistaken." He stared at each of us. "Didn't we learn a lesson at Summit?
Every
team that makes it this far is talented. It's the one with the hungriest players that wins ... Kyle, you with us today?"

He had his head down. "Yeah."

"Sure as hell doesn't seem it," Pennyweather said. "Tell me, is there anything more important in your life than the next two games?"

"No," Kyle said.

"You and a few others are practicing like you're worried more about chasing skirts and drinking booze. I'm sure you did enough of that over the weekend. Fellas, the semifinals are on Friday. Think about that—the state semifinals. Win that, and you play in the finals the next day. Win that, and each of you will get to hold the goddamn state championship trophy."

But the team was unmoved, and Pennyweather knew it.

"Know what? I've lost my patience," he said. "You're gonna run laps for the rest of the afternoon. Maybe tomorrow'll be better. Start fresh. Practice like gang-busters and we'll be fine. But if you don't, I'll have the team run the snake so long and hard you'll be too tired to even think about girls, or any other goddamn thing. Now get your asses moving."

Players grumbled, a few cursed, but the team quickly formed a line and started jogging down the field. Kyle was a few steps ahead of me.

Maako came up next to him. "Get your shit together, Saint-Claire," he hissed.

***

"Hey, Annalisa," I said. "Didn't see you in school again today. You're not avoiding me, are you? Just joking. If it's nice tomorrow, maybe we can meet on the patio. I wanna talk ... Gonna go to the game on Friday? Hope so ... Call me later."

I hung up the phone.

Leaving yet another voice message.

I wished she had answered. I wanted to hear her voice. I liked how she said certain words, and how she sometimes mixed in Italian with her English. We could've talked about silly stuff. Like boring classes and annoying teachers. What a relief that would've been. I had had enough with serious shit. My mind was fried. I just couldn't stop thinking and thinking and thinking.

I turned out my bedroom light. Something had to be done. But I didn't know what it should be. Hopefully, an answer would come to me. Hopefully soon.

I knocked on Pennyweather's office door.

No answer.

I knocked again and waited, just to make sure.

A few minutes earlier, I watched Pennyweather go into the teachers' lounge for his Tuesday departmental meeting. But he could be back at any time. I turned the knob, stepped in, and closed the door behind me. My heart was beating quickly, but not urgently.

I searched the bookshelves crowded with computer language manuals and teaching textbooks, but didn't find it there. I scanned the wall, yet there were only the framed photographs and autographed soccer ball I had marveled at the last time I was in the office. They were of no interest now. I walked behind Pennyweather's desk. On top sat a stack of papers marked, "To Be Graded." I opened the left desk drawer. Just file folders. I opened the right drawer. There it was.

The championship trophy.

It was made of polished brown wood, with a base so it could sit upright. At the center was a gold plate engraved with the words
PRESENTED BY THE NEW JERSEY STATE INTERSCHOLASTIC ATHLETIC ASSOCIATION TO THE ESSEX COUNTY BOYS' SOCCER TOURNAMENT CHAMPIONS
. Its final destination was to be the display case outside the gymnasium entrance, where all Millburn sports championships were honored.

I stuffed the trophy in my backpack, closed the drawer, then checked to make sure I hadn't left anything out of place. I opened the office door a crack and listened. I didn't hear anyone coming, so I swung my backpack over my shoulder and stepped out as nonchalantly as possible. A couple of sophomore guys were horsing around at the end of the hall, but they didn't notice me.

***

I stood at the shoreline of South Pond. The circle's streetlights glimmered on the mirrored surface. I opened my backpack and pulled out the trophy, a roll of athletic tape, and the game ball that Pennyweather had awarded me.

I pierced the ball with a penknife, then squeezed it flat. I found a good-sized rock, wedged it against the ball, then placed both on the gold plate. I pulled the tape tightly around once. Twice. Then a third and fourth time. When the rock still wasn't secure enough, I continued until the tape ran out and all that was left was the cardboard dispenser.

I waited for a moment of reconsideration.

None came.

It was too late for that. After what happened at the circle on Saturday night, Kyle and Maako didn't deserve to have the trophy on display. That was my decision. Someday the rest of our team might find out why. Maybe they'd understand; maybe they wouldn't. I didn't care either way.

I held the trophy, rock, and game ball in my hand, swung it back and forth—the way we had learned to throw the discus in gym class—then heaved it toward the middle of the pond. It didn't go very far, but it went far enough, disappearing into the inky black water, sending ripples out in ever-widening circles until they reached the toes of my cleats.

By next morning, news that the trophy was missing had spread quickly. I stood outside the cafeteria entrance with Solomon and Brad and watched their reaction to the PA announcement that the Hall of Champions ceremony had been canceled.

Solomon threw his hands up. "Are you kidding me?"

"No trophy, no ceremony," Brad said.

"This sucks."

"Maybe the athletic department will get us a replacement."

Solomon shook his head. "I'd bet anything
he
lost it."

"Who?" I said.

"Pennyweather."

Yeah he decided to keep it," Brad said with a laugh. "He knows it'll be the last county title he wins at this school."

There was a commotion at the other end of the hallway. It sounded like someone punched a locker. People stopped and stared. A few craned their necks. I looked, too. I wasn't surprised to see that it was Kyle. His eyes were wide and his hands tightened into fists.

"What's with him?" Solomon said.

"Who knows?" Brad shrugged.

"Something's been up his ass all week."

Brad gestured to me. "You wanna go see?"

"No," I said.

"I guess I'll go, then," he said.

Brad walked down the hall. When he got to Kyle, he put his hands up in a calming gesture. They started talking. While they did, I watched for Annalisa. I still hadn't seen her all week, and with Stephanie and Trinity both out supposedly sick, I wondered if the three of them were together somewhere. The thought of that bothered the hell out of me. Who knows what garbage they might be filling her head with.

Soon, Brad came back. He had a smirk on his face.

"So what's the story?" Solomon said.

"His BMW's gone."

***

Thanks for the ride," I said. "Again."

My mom gave me one of those motherly smiles. I think she knew something was going on between Kyle and me, but she hadn't said anything. Over the years, he and I had been in plenty of arguments. I think she figured this was just another that would eventually blow over. Or maybe she was too tired after a long day of work to be overly concerned.

I stared out the passenger window as we drove up Highland Avenue and, eventually, turned onto Lake Road. Soon we crossed over Redemption Bridge and passed the two ponds. When we came to our house, I saw Kyle's BMW in the Saint-Claires' driveway. It seemed fine.

What a joke,
I thought. Kyle made such a big deal over nothing.

My mom and I went inside. I took a long, hot shower, trying to wash away another lousy practice, another lousy day. It wasn't helping much. Afterward, I dried myself off and put on sweats. I sat down at my desk. Still no messages on my answering machine. I had finished the application for Wesleyan, but there were others. Plenty of others. I pushed the pile aside. I was hungry. Or maybe I just needed a distraction.

I walked out of my bedroom and heard my mom and Mrs. Saint-Claire talking in the living room. When I got halfway down the stairs, they stopped.

"Hello, Jonny," Mrs. Saint-Claire said. Her eyes were red. "Excited for Friday's game?"

"I guess."

"Want some dinner?" my mother asked.

I nodded.

"Give us a few minutes," she said.

I returned to my bedroom and closed the door—loud enough for them to notice—but in the same motion, I pushed the door open a little. I put my ear toward the hallway.

"What a mess today," I heard Mrs. Saint-Claire say. "Steph asked me to drive her to school, which was fine. We talked a little in the car and she gave me a kiss when I dropped her off, so I thought, after being too sick to go to school on Monday and Tuesday, everything was back to normal. Around ten, I get a call from the main office asking when Steph would be returning. I told them she was already there. They assured me she wasn't. I immediately called Jack. We found out Steph took the keys to Kyle's car. She and that Trinity drove out to Passaic."

"Passaic?" my mom said.

"I know, I know. And neither of them has a license."

"Why did they go all the way to Passaic?"

"St. Mary's Hospital."

"A hospital?"

"Their friend..." Mrs. Saint-Claire seemed to choke up. I opened the door wider. "If you'd ever seen this girl ... She was just so delicate. It's so terrible to say ... She tried to hurt herself."

Hurt herself? Who?"

"Their new friend," Mrs. Saint-Claire said. "Annalisa."

I started to tremble.

Then my stomach quaked. I felt like booting.

Visions from last Saturday night came at me with a vengeance. The sounds were sickeningly familiar. A girl's whimpers. They bled. They were chaotic. They echoed, rattling my skull. I shut my eyes, but they grew closer.

Like the girl was near me...

Like she was beside me...

Like she was inside my head...

"Stop..." I heard myself say. "Make them stop..."

But they didn't.

I opened my eyes.

Annalisa was in front of me. Spread out on the ground, her plaid skirt pulled up high, her hair caught on a fallen branch.

Why didn't I do something ... say something ... make a noise ... throw a rock ... anything?

How pathetic.

"When they saw bandages on her wrists," Mrs. Saint-Claire was saying, "that's when Trinity lost it. Steph was able to hold it together—but that doesn't surprise me. She's got this inner strength that Kyle doesn't even have. Steph said she sat on the bed, hugging Annalisa, with tears running down her cheeks. She just kept telling Annalisa, 'We love you ... We love you...' Then the nurse came in and told them time was up. Somehow they made it back to Short Hills. Apparently, Trinity cried the whole way. Steph left Kyle's car in the driveway, and the two of them went to the creek. That's their place, I guess..."

***

The front door closed.

I was sitting against my bedroom wall, my eyes shut, my head throbbing. I got up, put on my sneakers, and stepped down the stairs.

"Jonny..." My mom's voice startled me. I looked in the living room. She was sitting in the same chair. "Do you know a girl named Annalisa?"

"Yes," I said.

"You know her well?"

"Sort of."

My mom kept staring at me.

"She's nice," I said. I don't know why I chose the word "nice," but to say nothing seemed to betray the time we'd spent together. And, yet, saying "nice" did exactly that.

"Do you know what happened to her?"

"What do you mean?"

"Something bad happened to her."

"Oh..." I said. "Sorry."

"So, you do know?"

"No, Ma, I don't."

Could she see something in the paleness of my face? Could she read my bloodshot eyes? Was my slumped posture a dead giveaway? She turned from my direction.

"I just wanted to make sure," my mom said.

I crossed the hallway. "I'll be back later," I said.

As I closed the front door behind me, I heard her say, "It's a terrible shame..."

***

The Giannis' house was dark.

I stood across Highland Avenue, leaning against a tree at the edge of a neighbor's lawn, stepping back into the shadows to conceal myself whenever a car's headlights came in my direction.

Things could be the way they were before, and I wouldn't let anything happen to Annalisa ever again. I'd promise that with all my heart. We'd go back to exchanging smiles on the patio and talking on the phone until all hours at night. We'd meet at the library. And the dock. And sneak into the back stairwell at school. Annalisa affected me. She touched me. She held my curiosity. Whether it was her accent, or the way she moved, or the comfort she gave me whenever we were together. I wasn't done enjoying all that. I didn't want things to change. I wouldn't let them.