The Heartbeat of Halftime Read online

  We sat under the tree for a long time that day. Bam, Taco Bell, Spray Can, Heat, and me. We wanted to change things somehow. But none of us could think of a way to do it. We just looked at each other, looked away, and waited for something to happen. But nothin’ did, and we all finally went home.

  4

  SPRAY CAN’S LESSON

  Bam came over later that night. He must’ve been thinkin’ about it for some time, because it was late and my dad and mom had already gone to bed. I was lyin’ there, sorta half asleep. I’d been readin’ about the Green Bay Packers, about Vince Lombardi and how he taught them football, how they learned to win, when I heard somethin’ hit my window. I woke up, and for a moment I was standing there on the frozen field in Green Bay. Then I heard it again. I looked out the window and I saw, barely visible in the moonlight, Bam, Heat, and Taco Bell surrounded by Heat’s dogs.

  “What are you doin’?” I said.

  “C’mon,” they said back. “Get down here, we got someplace to go.”

  “Where?”

  “Just get down here before your folks wake up and … bam! … we’re all in trouble.”

  I pushed the screen out. It was bent from bein’ pushed out so many times and it came out easy. Then I walked along the eve and dropped down into the bushes with my shoes in my hand. While I put ’em on, Bam told me what was up.

  “We don’t know Spray Can,” he said.

  “Yeah we do,” I said.

  “We don’t,” Bam said. “We gotta know him better. The rest of us have been together a long time. Spray Can’s got to catch up if we’re ever gonna be a team.”

  I knew he was right. Spray Can had just moved down from Idaho and had never played before. Coach put him at middle linebacker because he could hit. In fact, Spray Can loved to hit, loved to knock people down. But he had a hard time findin’ the ball carrier. If it was a sweep, Spray Can would crash the middle. If it was up the middle, Spray Can was poundin’ the end. Half the time he was knockin’ over his own guys. If we could get him a nose for the ball, get him some smarts, maybe it would make a difference.

  We were up and joggin’ then, out toward the freeway that rumbled on like a river, day and night. We never paid much attention to it during the day, but at night it seemed more alive. Maybe ’cause nothin’ else was goin’ on and it was dark. We rested underneath it, feeling the trucks rumble above us. It was like we were beneath the surface of the earth, in a world all our own.

  A car turned off a side street and drove toward us. We scrambled up the concrete hill and hid in the shadows. The car stopped and a guy and his girlfriend got out. The car radio was on loud and they started dancing, right there alone, without a band, or friends, or nothin’. We watched for a moment, none of us sayin’ anything, just Heat’s dogs panting in the dark. Dancin’ with a girl had seemed so far away, like none of us would ever do it. Suddenly it was right there. We all knew it was somethin’ we’d have to do, that our time was gettin’ close. The ninth graders always had a dance at the end of the year and invited the eighth graders. We knew this like we knew about the end of the world. It was a day we feared more than any game day. We watched that couple with a kind of sick fascination, like watchin’ a car accident or a house burn down. That is, except for Taco Bell. He had this silly grin on his face like he was enjoying it, like he was looking forward to dancing with a girl. None of us could understand it. When we’d had enough, we snuck away, no one sayin’ a word but all of us scared for the future.

  None of us knew for sure where Spray Can lived. We knew that his pop owned a gas station up on the boulevard. That was about all we needed to know, because the boulevard is pretty deserted. It’s just a highway that runs along the edge of the mountain on the way to the canyon. We also figured that there must be a house close to the station, ’cause that’s the direction Spray Can headed every day after practice. We were right. There was only one gas station on the deserted street, and it had a house attached to it. There were no lights on, except for a blue light comin’ from a small window in the back. When we got closer we saw that it was the light from the TV. Spray Can was asleep on the couch and a monster movie was playin’. We watched it for a minute. The giant creature from the sea was ripping out telephone poles and stomping on cars. It looked pretty real except for the cars; you could tell they were toys even from where we were watching. Then the creature picked up an ice-cream truck and emptied it. Taco Bell cheered.

  “C’mon,” Bam said. “We gotta get Spray Can.”

  The window was small, and it was open. We could see Spray Can’s face snoring on the couch.

  “Spray Can!” I whispered. “Spray Can, get up.”

  “Not too loud,” Bam said. “We don’t want his pop after us.”

  “He won’t wake up,” I said.

  Taco Bell started rummaging around then. He found a long piece of pipe and handed it to me. I carefully poked it through the window to try and reach Spray Can’s shoulder. But it wasn’t long enough and all I could reach was his face. I was tryin’ to gently tap him on the head, but the pipe was heavy, and, well, it came down pretty hard on his nose.

  “Ow!” Spray Can yelped, sitting straight up.

  “Spray Can, get up!” Bam whispered.

  “What’s goin’ on?” Spray Can yelled. Then he called his dog. “Bob, come here, boy. Get over here.”

  Bob was a dirty, mean-lookin’ boxer with crooked ears and fierce eyes. He bounded into the room and leaped right for the window, barking crazy, like he wanted to tear us apart.

  “Who’s out there?” Spray Can yelled.

  By then we had fallen over each other and were scrambling through the greasy trash tryin’ to get outta there. Heat’s dogs went crazy barking and jumping up at the window.

  “Who is it?” Spray Can demanded.

  “It’s us,” Taco Bell finally answered. “It’s Taco Bell … and, and Bam … and Wing and Heat.”

  Spray Can pulled his dog back and looked out the window at the four of us picking ourselves up.

  “What are you doin’?”

  “We came to talk to you,” Bam said. “Where’s your pop?”

  “He’s gone,” Spray Can said. “He had to go up to Idaho to pick up a differential. He won’t be back till tomorrow.”

  “He left you alone?” Taco Bell asked.

  “Yeah,” Spray Can answered casually. “He always does. Go around to the front and I’ll open the door.”

  Spray Can’s place was like you’d a thought it to be from the outside: a gas station. He opened the garage door and Bob came running out, but once he saw he was outnumbered, he just stood nervously and let Heat’s dogs sniff him. He returned the sniffs and it seemed like everything was okay. Inside the garage there were parts and tools everywhere. In the hallway outside his room there was a small fridge, a hot plate, and a coffee maker.

  “Anybody want coffee?” he offered.

  No one did. We just stood there looking at all the junk and rags and calendars with girls in bikinis on them. I wondered what a girl that looked like that would want to do with tools, but I don’t think it occurred to Taco Bell. He couldn’t take his eyes off a skinny blonde holding a muffler and wearin’ nothin’ but her nightclothes, and there wasn’t much of those.

  “Wow,” Taco Bell said. “Does she work here?”

  “‘Course she does,” Spray Can said. “Why do you think that picture’s there for?”

  Taco Bell was speechless. For weeks after that he bugged us to get back to Spray Can’s during the day. When we finally did go back, he was more disappointed than a kid who’s found nothin’ in his stocking at Christmas time.

  “It was a good game you played Saturday,” Bam finally said. “You knocked over lots of people … bam!”

  “Yeah,” said Heat. “Some of ’em were even on the other team.”

  Heat doesn’t have much patience for losin’. He’s always been a good running back without a line. It’s hard to win games by yourself.

  �
��Guess I was kinda confused some of the time,” Spray Can said, feelin’ bad about the game.

  “Well, that’s why we’re here,” Bam said. “We think you hit awful hard. If we could just get you to hit the right player, well … bam! … we think you could be good.”

  “Really?” asked Spray Can.

  “Yeah, really,” said Taco Bell.

  “We wouldn’t be here if we didn’t think so,” said Bam. “Get me, get me some of them lug nuts and bolts.”

  Spray Can hurried over to a pan of bolts and brought back a handful. Bam set ’em up like an offense then set a bolt for Spray Can in the middle of the defense.

  “Okay, so here you are,” said Bam. “Right in the middle. That means you gotta make most of the tackles. To do that, you gotta know where the ball is goin’. So who’s gonna tell you that?”

  “I don’t know,” Spray Can answered. “I just kinda go, you know … .”

  “That don’t work,” Bam said. “You gotta watch the line. See, running backs don’t like to run alone. They like lots of company in front of ’em. So watch the guards, here and here.”

  Bam pointed to the two lug nuts that were the offensive guards.

  “See, if they back up, it’s a pass. If they fire left, it’s a run left, right it’s a run right.”

  “Then,” said Heat. “You gotta look for the ball carrier. He’s usually behind the other back headed the same direction as the guards. Except on the counters and reverses.”

  “Right,” said Bam. “We’ll show you.”

  Bam set up an offense then, with Taco Bell as the center and guard, and me and Heat as the running back. We walked through it first, Taco Bell heading left, me takin’ the fake, and Heat gettin’ the ball, which was a knot of rags. When we started pickin’ up the speed, we ran out of space pretty quick, so Spray Can opened the garage door and pulled out a few of the cars to make more room. He didn’t think much of it, but we were all pretty much amazed at watchin’ him drive. He said he done it all the time to help out Ray.

  Anyway, with more room, we worked on the pass, the fake, the dive, the draw. Spray Can caught on pretty fast. Once he tackled Heat into a pile of empty oil-can boxes. Heat didn’t say anything about that. I’d a thought he’d jump up and tell Spray Can to save the hits for the game. But he didn’t. He smiled like a proud father, then went back to running plays.

  It was pretty late when we finished. We were havin’ a good time, more fun than we’d had on the football field for a long time. It made us remember why we played football in the first place: ’cause it was fun.

  “You’re gettin’ it,” Bam said to Spray Can. “Too bad Ray ain’t here.”

  “Wouldn’t matter,” Spray Can said.

  “What do you mean?” I asked him.

  “Just wouldn’t matter, that’s all.”

  I didn’t know what he was talkin’ about until the next game, when I looked around for Ray and didn’t find him. Seems Ray had no interest in Spray Can at all.

  We left Spray Can and his dog Bob all breathin’ hard from the game that night. Bob was as tired as any of us ’cause he was so old. He couldn’t muster up a bark when we walked out the door. It was past midnight, but we weren’t sleepy. We took the rag ball with us and tossed it all the way home, laughin’ and scorin’ touchdowns. Maybe we even dreamed of winning. Maybe.

  5

  HEAT’S WAY

  Anyone who didn’t know Heat the way we did said he was better with dogs than he was with people. He never said a whole lot, and what he did say wasn’t exactly pleasant. Heat had a mother who didn’t like children. So when she had one, she didn’t act like she did. Oh, she was nice enough, but she never spent a lot of time with Heat. She just kind of let him go off and do what he pleased. So maybe Heat never got what he needed from his mother. Maybe he wanted her to be around a bit more, or talk to him, or just plain take an interest in him. But she didn’t. She ignored him. So Heat spent most of his time with his dogs, four black Labradors. They were beautiful in the sun, their fur shiny and thick. And Heat was with them so much that they were almost human. He talked to them like they were his family. He could send one to the store for a bag of Oreos, while another bought movie tickets. They were that smart.

  You never saw Heat without his dogs. Most of the time he was jogging along with his pack. Sometimes, when he was short of money, he’d jog through town with an old flour sack. He’d send the dogs up and down the alleys collecting bottles. I guess that’s what made him so fast, running with his dogs all the time. You could knock his feet out from underneath him and he’d put a hand down for balance, twist in the air, and be back on his feet at full gallop. I guess he learned a lot from those dogs. Heat had his own way, and he was the only one of us Ed Stebbings wouldn’t touch.

  The way Heat tells it, the story goes like this: He was out collecting bottles one day and it got kinda late. He was headed home beside the canal when he ran into Lance Lindsay, Ed’s bud, and a few of his friends. The dogs were off lookin’ for bottles and Heat was alone on the path.

  “Well, if it ain’t the running back for the girl’s team,” Lindsay said, and I’m sure his brainless teammates laughed then.

  “We could use some cheerleaders,” he said. “We think you and the rest of the girls on your team would be perfect.”

  Heat didn’t say anything. He never does.

  “Well?” said Lindsay.

  Heat just stood there.

  “Give us an answer, pansy, or we’ll throw you in the canal.”

  Heat was probably pretty mad about this time. But he has a hard time findin’ the right words. So mostly he keeps his mouth shut.

  Right here’s where I should tell you about one of the tricks Heat taught his dogs. I don’t know how he did it, but he taught them all to lunge for the zipper. So on command, any one of these four dogs would head-butt you right below the belt. And they could punch so hard with those stiff snouts that it didn’t matter if you had a cup on. You felt it. He tried it on me one day after practice and I thought I’d been hit by a baseball.

  Anyway, Lindsay kept after Heat there at the canal. “What’s it gonna be, wimp?” Lindsay said in a squeaky voice. “You wanna put a wig on and watch the big boys play, huh?”

  Well, they must’ve been laughin’ real hard then, ’cause they didn’t hear Heat whistle for his dogs. It was dark and pretty hard to see three black dogs trotting up from behind Heat. The fourth one was across the canal, and when he splashed in, Lindsay and his two buddies looked over to see what was comin’ out of the water. What they didn’t see was three black Labs running full speed with their snouts in the ram position. The dogs struck enemy crotches like invisible missiles.

  One thing was for certain that night: Neither Lindsay or his buds were wearing cups. They fell to the ground like, well, like they had been socked right in the goods. They lay there for some time while the dogs stood snarling above them. Heat never said a word. He just walked off down the path with his pack of dogs scouting out in front of him, looking for bottles or crotch targets, whatever they could find.

  Anyway, that’s why Ed never messes with Heat. By the time he got the story from Lindsay, they had made Heat out to be some kind of crazyman who lived with a pack of wolves. No, you never see Heat without his dogs. It’s like they’re family, brothers, I guess. Heat’s spent so much time with his dogs, some people say it’s given him strange ways. Maybe the strangest is Heat’s habit of jogging to the football field the night before a game to mark his territory in the end zone. See, dogs will pee on every corner. It’s their way of letting other dogs know where their territory is, letting them know they got a fight comin’ if they cross the line. It’s like layin’ claim to a piece of ground, sayin’ this is mine. So Heat does it the night before each game. Sometime after midnight he jogs down to the field with his dogs. And then in some kind of ceremonial way, he pees in each end zone. It’s his way of saying, “The only one who can score here is me.” I never would have known it, but the
night before our third game I couldn’t sleep. So I got up and sat on my roof like I always do when I can’t sleep. I could see over to the other street because there was a full moon out; and I see this pack of dogs moving up the sidewalk. At first I thought it was just a bunch of strays out sneakin’ around at night. Then I notice their tight formation, and Heat running right behind them. I only had to watch for a moment, and I knew where he was going.

  I climbed down and followed him. I watched him run to the far goalpost and pee while his dogs waited for him. I walked into the other end zone and just stood there. He turned and trotted toward me. He didn’t see me until he was almost to the twenty. I think I scared him, but he didn’t act like it.

  “What are you doin’?” I asked him.

  He didn’t answer; he just looked at me, tryin’ to figure out if he could trust me or not. Finally he spoke up.

  “Move,” he said. “You’re in my way.”

  I stepped aside and stood with the dogs while he marked the end zone. He went on like it was the most logical thing to do, that it was a part of nature, a kind of force that would drive away our enemies. He said that there was something primitive about it and that we needed all the help we could get.

  “I guess so,” I said. Then I marked my own territory just inside the goal line. Heat didn’t say anything about it, just nodded his head in approval. Even the dogs seemed to be smiling, like they had taught us some great truth. Maybe they had.

  6

  THE FORCES OF NATURE

  Nature is a funny thing. When you think it makes the most sense, it changes course. Yeah, we lost. It was the first game I really thought we had a chance of winning. We had a good week of practice. Coach even said that we were wakin’ up like the Greek statue Colossus, all bronze and ten stories high. Slowly it came to life, breakin’ out of its bronze skin to destroy the centurions.