The Game, by Tan M. Nguyen

 

            Greg Thompson could hardly contain himself.  Today was finally THE day.  He quickly flung himself out of his bed, threw on his football jersey, and rushed out of the house.  His mother called after him.  He stopped dead in his tracks.  Oh..man…how could I have forgotten?  He turned around.  She was looking quite angry at him.  Greg sheepishly walked back, kissed her on the cheek, and said, “Love you, Mom. Have a great day.”

 

            Mom’s demeanor melted into a big smile.  “Go get ‘em Greg.”  Greg turned around and rushed to school.  Today was October 17th, and it was the St. Matthew’s High School Homecoming Game against their arch enemies, the Eagles of St. Ignatius High School.  And as the school’s only sophomore in the starting varsity lineup, Greg was excited beyond belief.  He was the school’s premier punter, and he knew, just absolutely KNEW that he would make a difference tonight.  But first, there was the school rally today held at 2pm in the school gymnasium. 

 

            Greg attended the rally last year.  The student body was never more worked up than at this rally.  And this time, Greg would be at the center of it all.   However, school dragged on more slowly than he thought possible.  Mr. Peterson in Geometry class emphasized a set of “game plans” that could help the class solve all those proofs.  There was only one game plan in Greg’s mind.  Mrs. Almomani in Biology class talked about muscle contractions in frogs.  Greg made a mental note to stretch his right calf muscle, his golden baby.  And he could not pay attention at all in English class.  It was the last class before the rally, and Greg could not contain himself.  Besides, he never paid attention in that class anyways.  There was another boy, Alfredo Martinez, who oddly kept his attention every time he was in English. 

 

            Alfredo was simply different from everyone else.  He transferred in September from Rosemeade High School, about 20 miles away.  It was an inner city public school, and had a reputation for having drugees and gangbangers.  While such a label might have been true ten years ago, it was simply not true now.  Rosemeade High made such an amazing progress that TIME magazine recently interviewed its principal for a front cover story.  Such amazing press, however, never truly changed St. Matthew’s perception of its neighbor.

 

            While Alfredo never came across as either a gang member or a drug dealer, Greg never really liked him.  Though he had never talked to Alfredo, Greg simply didn’t like the way he dressed, or the way he did his hair.  It was shaggy, nearly covering his dark piercing eyes.  Alfredo was quiet, never really speaking until he was spoken too.  He was probably a loner.  In fact, Greg knew for a fact he ate lunch by himself.  I swear, this guy is trouble.  I can just sense it.  I hear he has a sister who’s in a gang. I hear she’s killed more people than she’s been shot at.  And I hear she’s been shot at 9 times, 50 cent style.  Greg shook his head, partially in shame.  Stop assuming things about him.  I bet he’s a great guy.  Maybe I’ll talk to him one day.  But the reality was that Alfredo was simply too different, and Greg didn’t have time to cross that distance.  Besides, the entire school came to a consensus that Alfredo was weird for dressing the way he did and weird for not interacting the way the school acted.  He was just….different.  He wasn’t even going to the Homecoming Game.

 

            The Bell rang.  FINALLY!!  Greg promptly forgot about Alfredo and rushed to the gym.  It was the best 1.5 hours of Greg’s life.  Somehow, the student body president was able to authorize the use of whipped cream, party poppers, and tons and tons of streamers to whip the school in a frenzy.  At one point, water balloons were passed out to the football players, who threw them into sections of the crowd that they felt were not cheering hard enough.  Greg spotted Alfredo towards the back of the gym, who was quietly observing it all.  Alfredo did seem to be enjoying himself, but not with the frenzy that captivated everyone else.  Well, I did say I wanted to get to know him better.  Greg launched his biggest balloon at him.  It hit Alfredo squarely in the chest.  Greg grinned at Alfredo and gave him a thumbs up sign.  Alfredo didn’t notice.

 

            “Hey, way to hit Weird Al, Greg!  Maybe you should be the quarterback!”  That was Joey Odona, the junior quarterback.  This guy threw a record shattering 5 touchdown passes in one half at their last game.

 

            “Hahaha, I will when you beef up those weak sauce calves and take my spot!”  Greg ran out of balloons, so he took off his jersey and threw it into a cluster of screaming freshmen girls.    

 

The student body eventually piled out to the parking lot, where they would all carpool to the football stadium at the local junior college.  Greg was about to get on the Varsity Bus, when he realized he forgot his jersey in the gym.  I hope those girls didn’t take it.  Then I’d be forced to offer them roses and kisses in return for it… Greg smiled.  It was fun being on varsity. 

 

            Greg entered the gym.  It was dreadfully messy.  He felt sorry for the people who were going to clean it up.  Whipped cream splattered everywhere.  Water balloon fragments covered every nook and cranny.  The entire floor was wet.  He found his green jersey lying in a puddle in the middle of gym.  Coach is not going to like this one bit...  But such thoughts were for later.  Now, he had to get out of here before the bus left.  He opened the gymnasium doors and began to trot to the bus when…

 

            “HEY! What are you doing here, son?!?”  Greg turned around.  The speaker was a middle aged janitor.  He had graying hair, but his back was still straight.  He was as tall as Greg, and he looked quite fit.  The janitor, however, was not talking to Greg.  He didn’t even know he was there.

 

            “Hey Dad, good to see you too.”  It was Alfredo Martinez, still wet from the balloon.

            The janitor stopped sweeping the floor and looked at the boy.  “Aren’t you going to the Homecoming Game?  Everyone’s there.”

 

            “Well, I thought I would help you clean up this mess first,” Alfredo replied.  The two men never saw Greg standing at the door a mere 20 feet away.

 

            “Son, you know this will take all night.  I will not let you miss this game.  You should really go.  It will help you get back on your feet.  I’m really concerned about you.  You haven’t been the same since…since…”

            “Dad, I got the highest grade in English, Geometry, AND Biology  class.  I’m FINE.”

 

            “It’s not your grades I’m worried about.  Ever since your sister…..you aren’t as cheerful as you used to be.  You need to be at that game.  You used to be as frenzied as the rest of them. ”

            “Dad, you need me to help her.  And the faster this gymnasium gets cleaned, the faster you can come home.”

 

            “Mom can handle for one night.  And besides, you know the arrangement we have with Principal Ringer.  I work double shifts, no vacations, and you get to come to this Catholic school for free.  Nowhere does it say that you have to isolate yourself from the school. ”

            “Dad, give me a mop.”

            “I’ll give you whooping.”  Alfredo smiled.  So did the janitor.  Both of them knew that Alfredo’s father used that word simply because he thought it was funny the first time he heard it in some movie long ago.

 

            “How is Elaine doing today anyways?”

            “She’s getting better.  I called your mother today to check up on her.  Elaine hasn’t been so cheerful since that one day in September.  She thinks she can walk again.  The doctors aren’t so sure.  She watched some movie today with that lady Uma Thurman, and now she’s saying “wiggle your big toe’ every minute.  It drives Mom crazy.” 

 

            “Hahaha, good ole Elaine.  It’s funny, huh dad.  Here’s this TIME magazine saying how great Rosemeade is, and the next day, Elaine is an innocent bystander of some drug deal gone wrong.”

 

            “Well, I’m glad the bullet didn’t hit further up her spine.  At least she can still use her arms.  I’m afraid she’ll have to give up following in Mia Hamm’s footsteps though.”

 

            “Yea…she was quite the soccer player.  You know, Dad, I may not look like I’m having fun here, but I am.  I’m glad you got me into this school.”

 

            “This is a better school anyways.  And safer.  I really am proud of you too, Son.  I mean, you know our family history.  We didn’t give you two the best living circumstances.  But you and Elaine didn’t fall into any gangs, and you didn’t get into any drug problems.  Mom and I are grateful.  And what’s more, both of you do so well in school.  I mean, you guys are really beating the odds.  We are truly, truly proud and blessed.”

 

            “Yeaa…..you know… couldn’t have done it without my parents.”  Both smiled again.

            Silence.

            Alfredo and his father hugged each other for a long time. 

            “Alfredo…why is your shirt all wet?”

            “Hahaha….long story.  But basically the same reason why the floor’s wet.  Hey, where’s my mop?”

            “Where’s your whooping?”

            “Reeeeal funny,  Dad.  C’mon, the faster this gym gets cleaned, the faster I can head to the Game.”

            Alfredo’s dad flashed a mischievous grin.  “Hey, What about Elaine?”

            “Don’t worry, Mom’s got her tonight….”

 

 

            Greg Thompon, premier sophomore varsity punter, still stood at the door, wet jersey in his hand.  He could not move.  He could not think.  He was dazed.  The Game was the last thing on his mind.

 

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