We were down eight-three when I got on the field. And then my feet grew! The pair I have now are okay, but they're not the same. But the laces snapped a few months ago and the rubber along the sides started to fall off. I used to have a great pair, which I won in a writing competition. We passed the older guys smoking around the sinks as usual and hurried to my locker so I could change into my cleats.
I've scored a hat trick every day this week. But I'm the only one who can stand up front and score four or five times a day without fail. There are better defenders and midfielders, and Tommy Jones is the best goalkeeper in the whole school. And Danny Curtain had stopped playing soccer in order to spend lunch hanging out with Sheila Leigh, the girl he likes. Sam White transferred to another school when his family moved. My team normally wins but we'd lost a lot of our best players. We need you." He was talking about soccer.
"I thought I'd stay in here and admire the view," I said, leaning back on the toilet seat. "That hurt." He rubbed his arm but I could tell he wasn't really hurt. "Got you!" I yelled, punching him on the shoulder. Steve's always forgetting about homework. "It doesn't have to be done until tomorrow, does it?" he asked, getting worried. "Did you do your history homework?" I asked. "Did I miss anything in class?" I asked, sitting up. "Give my boots a polish while you're down there," he said, and laughed when I pretended to spit on his shoes and rub them with a sheet of toilet paper. Bluurgh! But Steve Leopard knew me too well to be fooled. Then I leaned forward all of a sudden and made a sick noise. He smiled when he saw me sitting down with my pants on. "I'm in here." I hit the door so he'd know which one I was behind.
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Steve's reputation had softened over the years - his mom took him to see a lot of good counselors who taught him how to control himself but he was still a minor legend in the schoolyard and not someone you messed with, even if you were bigger and older than him. He had a fierce temper and threw scary tantrums when he lost it, but I simply ran away when that happened and came back again once he'd calmed down. My mom says I was drawn to his wildness, but I just thought he was a great guy to be with. I've been his best friend since kindergarten, when we first met. He was feared and despised everywhere he went. One day - he was still in a stroller - he found a sharp stick and prodded passing women with it (no prizes for guessing where he stuck it!). Steve used to be what my mom calls "a wild child." He raised hell wherever he went, got into fights, stole from stores. And not just because the names sound alike. Steve's real last name was Leonard, but everyone called him Steve Leopard. "Darren! Hey, Darren! Have you fallen in or what?" So, there I was, humming, watching my watch, waiting. He doesn't get mad if you trick him but he goes quiet and won't speak to you for a while, and that's almost worse than being shouted at. Dalton would be angry if he saw me in the yard so soon. I heard the bell ring for the end of class and everybody came rushing out on their lunch break. In the end, I didn't get sick, but still felt queasy, so I stayed on the toilet. I wish every teacher was as understanding as Mr. "Throw up whatever's making you sick, Darren," he said, "then get your behind back in here." He took one look at me when I raised my hand and said I was ill, then nodded his head and told me to go to the bathroom. He's smart and knows when you're faking and when you're being serious. I'd come in near the end of English class, feeling sick. I WAS IN THE BATHROOM at school, sitting down on the toilet, humming a song.
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