Michael backed up his threat by winning the third face-off. But his team didn’t have possession for long because Carl missed the scoop, giving Andrew time to dash forward and nab the ball out of the grass.
“Go for it!” Garry yelled.
Andrew threw over to Brandon. Brandon relayed it to Todd. Todd ran with the ball for several feet and then sent it downfield toward Pedro …
… who didn’t get it because Samuel stole it, turned on a dime, and flashed it back the other way to Eric. Then Samuel, Eric, and Evan thundered down the field, passing back and forth, with Michael, Jeff, and Carl racing along in front of them.
“Pass it up already, will you?” Michael yelled.
Eric obeyed — only to see Todd leap up and slap the ball down to the ground.
“Whoo-hooo!” Garry whooped, marveling at how much his brother had improved since spring.
Todd scooped up the ball and threw to him. Garry made a clean catch and started down the field. Pedro, running parallel and just a bit ahead, signaled for a pass. Garry fired the ball to him.
Wham! Moments after the ball left his stick someone slammed into him from behind, knocking him to the ground!
Tweet! The sharp whistle brought play to a halt.
“What’re you doing?” Coach Hasbrouck bellowed. “This is lacrosse, not football!”
Garry rolled over, spat out his mouth guard, and sat up, dazed. “What happened?”
“Your teammate pretty much tackled you, that’s what happened,” an unfamiliar voice answered.
Garry turned to see a small, wiry boy on the sidelines. “Which teammate?” he asked.
“The one your coach is heading to.”
Garry looked to where the boy was pointing. “Michael. Of course.”
The other boy was smirking at Garry. But the smirk vanished the moment Coach Hasbrouck appeared at his side, replaced by a look of concern.
Garry stood up just as Coach Hasbrouck and Michael came over.
“Wallis, you okay?” Michael asked in a worried tone — a tone Garry wasn’t buying for a minute.
“Yeah, I’m fine, no thanks to you!” he fumed.
Now Michael put on a hurt face. “You don’t think I hit you on purpose, do you?” He turned to Coach Hasbrouck. “I’m telling you, I tripped over something while I was chasing Wallis down the line.”
Evan appeared at Michael’s side. “He did, Coach, I saw him!” He made a big show of shaking his head. “I think there must be a bump in the field, or maybe a gopher hole, or even a rock! Michael’s lucky he didn’t get hurt!”
“Anyway,” Michael said, ignoring Evan, “no harm done, right, Wallis?”
Garry gave him a long look. “Right, Donofrio,” he said at last.
Just then, a man wearing a shirt with the team name THUNDER emblazoned across the chest tapped Coach Hasbrouck on the shoulder. “You about through here? It’s my team’s turn on the field.”
The coach sighed and nodded. “We’ll get out of your way. Have a good practice.”
Garry headed to the sidelines to gather his belongings. The wiry boy who’d pointed out Michael drew alongside him.
“Listen, I thought you should know that your teammate didn’t trip,” he said in a low voice. “He shoved you on purpose.”
Garry kicked at the grass. He knew Michael had deliberately pushed him, but he’d hoped no one else did. He hated the fact that someone else — a member of the competition, no less! — had witnessed it. He felt his face turn red and yanked his sweatshirt on over his head to cover his embarrassment.
“Um, you know you’re bleeding, right?” The kid pointed to Garry’s knee.
Garry peered down and groaned. Sure enough, a gash there was oozing blood. “Figures,” he mumbled.
“Here.” The boy dug around in his own equipment bag, pulled out a small first aid kit, and handed it to Garry. “Don’t ask,” he said at Garry’s look. “My mom makes me keep it in there.” He put out his hand. “I’m Scottie. Who are you?”
Garry shook Scottie’s hand and told him his name. “I’m an attackman for the Rockets,” he added.
Scottie grinned. “Guess I’ll have to be on the lookout for you. I play goalkeeper for the Thunder.” He looked over his shoulder. “My practice is starting. See you around, Garry.”
“What should I do with this?” Garry held up the first aid kit.
Scottie made a face. “Leave it on the bench. If I’m lucky, someone will take it!”
Garry laughed as Scottie jogged onto the field. Then he peeled open the bandage, stuck it on his knee, and tucked the wrapper into his sweatshirt pocket.
He seems like a nice kid. Wonder if he’s any good in goal?
Curious, he watched the Thunder practice for a few minutes, long enough to see that Scottie wasn’t good — he was awesome.
It’s going to be tough getting the ball past him! Garry thought.