Double Fake Page 3

  Calvin had reached the goal box and threw himself toward the ball. He nudged it with his forehead and it squirted out of the box, bouncing on the grass and rolling toward the corner.

  A Grotto player chased it down and chipped it back toward the goal. Calvin intercepted it and looked up the field. Orange and blue shirts were everywhere.

  The Grotto players had come close to scoring, but they’d also made a key mistake. Every blue shirt except the goalie and one defender was on this end of the field. Calvin booted the ball toward Angel near the sideline, then went full speed up the field. Angel had lots of room and dribbled past Coach Diaz, across the center line, and well into the Grotto side. He passed to Zero, who passed to Orlando, who passed over to Calvin at the top of the penalty area.

  It was just Calvin and the goalie now, and Calvin was up to the task. He dribbled straight into the goal box, made a quick feint to his left, then drove the ball hard into the net. Little Italy had the lead.

  “Defense now!” Calvin shouted as he ran back into position.

  Little Italy tightened its zone, hustled for every loose ball, and held its ground. When the final whistle blew, Calvin dropped to his knees and raised his fists.

  “You’re the man!” shouted Zero, putting his hands on Calvin’s shoulders and squeezing.

  Calvin was exhausted but thrilled. He yanked off his T-shirt and wiped his face and shoulders, then walked proudly off the field.

  Jessie Rosado jogged by closely as Calvin walked off. “Pretty good,” she said, not meeting his eyes.

  “Thanks,” said Calvin, turning to look. Jessie kept jogging. And Calvin walked right into her sister Danielle.

  Danielle stumbled backward but smiled. “Yuck,” she said, wiping her hands on her shirt. “Is that sweat?”

  “What do you think?” Calvin said, grinning. “I been running for forty-eight minutes.”

  “You ran good,” she said. “But watch us now. You’ll learn something.”

  Coach Diaz called the team over. “Great win. Smart and tough. We’ll only get better.”

  Zero punched Calvin’s arm. “What now?” he said.

  Calvin shrugged. “I need about a gallon of fluid. Let’s get something and come back.”

  “For what?”

  “To watch the second game,” Calvin said. “Check out the competition.” He squinted and looked at the field, where the Bauer Electric players were warming up. “Let’s see how good those twins really are. See what makes them tick.”

  6

  The Count

  The Rosado twins were excellent players. They scored two goals apiece and totally controlled the game as Bauer Electric put up a dominating 5-0 victory.

  Zero and Calvin sat on the grass with quart bottles of Gatorade. The sky grew darker and there was occasional thunder, but things stayed dry during the game. A cooling breeze blew during the second half. Calvin lay back and looked at the clouds rolling in.

  “I’m starving,” Zero said as the game ended. “I still think we might get free pizza if we wear our jerseys into Little Italy.”

  “If I wear this jersey anywhere I’ll get thrown out on the street,” Calvin said, looking at the balled-up orange shirt on the ground. “It’s got about fifteen pounds of sweat in it.”

  “Let’s get pizza anyway,” Zero said. “I got money left.”

  They walked up to the Boulevard. A large wooden sign had been posted on the lawn of St. Joseph’s Church, announcing the parish’s annual carnival and street fair. It would run for three evenings in July at the field behind the church.

  “Definitely gonna hit that a couple of times,” Zero said.

  “They got great calzones,” Calvin said. “And sausage sandwiches.”

  “How come you’re so skinny when all you do is eat?” Zero asked.

  “Quick metabolism. And hey, I run my butt off.”

  “That you do.”

  Calvin stopped walking and stared at the sign. “What?” Zero asked.

  “Just thinking about the carnival.” Calvin clasped his hands and placed them on top of his head. “Just was thinking that there aren’t a lot of ... you know ... social opportunities like that in this town.”

  Zero rolled his eyes but smiled. “Oh, man,” he said. “The twins?”

  “You know what I’m saying.” Calvin pointed at the sign. “Fun. Food. Rides. Think we could pull it off?”

  Zero shrugged. “Worth trying, I suppose.”

  “I’ll drop a few hints. Test the water, you know. They’re pretty sassy, but I think they might join us. We’re fairly sophisticated, aren’t we?”

  Zero laughed. “That’s stretching it, I’d say. But I don’t know. I always thought they were out of our league.”

  “The way I see it, we’re in the same league at the moment. Just different divisions.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “I know what you meant.” Calvin frowned. “Don’t forget, bro—we’re undefeated.”

  The boys juggled their cleats, shin guards, T-shirts, and slices of pizza as they made their way out of the Little Italy restaurant and onto the sidewalk. Ernie Salinardi had greeted them by name and was thrilled that they’d won. “Best pizza in town,” he’d said. “Best team, too, I hope.”

  They were way uptown, between Third and Fourth Streets, in an area of the Boulevard that was mostly residential—tall old trees and apartment buildings, some huge clapboarded houses, a couple of small shops, and the pizza place.

  Calvin stopped walking as they approached the corner. “The Count,” he said.

  “What?”

  Calvin pointed to a man standing near the bus-stop bench, holding a leash attached to a big German shepherd. The man had fuzzy hair sticking out from an old Yankees cap pulled low on his head, and a dark windbreaker. It was hard to tell his age. Thirty-five? Sixty?

  “The Count,” Calvin repeated. “You never heard of him?”

  “Nope.”

  “He counts buses.”

  “You’re kidding me.”

  Calvin looked at Zero in disbelief. “You don’t get out much, do you? The guy is legendary in this town, man. Ask him what the count is.”

  “Me?”

  “Yeah. Ask him.”

  Zero shook his head, but he took a couple of steps toward the man, who was staring intently at the Boulevard, looking up the street and then down.

  “Hey!” Zero said loudly. He started to laugh. “What’s the count?”

  The man turned his head slightly and looked blankly at the boys. “Three up, four down,” he said softly.

  Zero looked at Calvin.

  “Down is that way,” Calvin whispered, pointing toward Jersey City, “toward the Holland Tunnel. Up is toward the Lincoln. He comes out here every night and counts buses in each direction until one side reaches five. He’s been doing it for years. Never says a word unless you ask him what the count is.”

  “He crazy?”

  “I don’t know. My father says he’s harmless.”

  “Homeless?”

  “Harmless. I think he lives right here.” Calvin jutted his thumb toward a shabby brick apartment building.

  “Here comes one,” Zero said loudly, pointing toward a New Jersey Transit bus coming up the hill from Jersey City. “That’ll tie it up.”

  The heavy rain started as the bus went by. Big cold drops. Within seconds the ground was soaked and steaming, and the rain was pelting their heads. The drops were hitting so hard that they were bouncing off the pavement.

  The boys started running back toward their homes, darting across the Boulevard. The downpour had hit so fast that they had to jump across a torrent at the gutter.

  “This is nuts!” Calvin said. “What are we running for? We’re already soaked.”

  “It doesn’t rain all month and then we get a hurricane!” Zero said.

  They glanced back as they reached Fifth Street. The Count was still standing at the bus stop, ignoring the storm. “He won’t leave until one side
gets to five,” Calvin said.

  “He must be crazy.”

  “Yeah,” Calvin replied. “He must be.”

  7

  Below minimum

  Little Italy stayed unbeaten over the next week. Calvin scored twice in a rout of Villa Roma and once in a wild 4-4 tie with Luigi’s.

  He was dog-tired as he lay in bed the morning after the tie, staring at the ceiling. It felt as if he’d sprinted up and down that field a hundred times.

  So they’d made it through the pizza-division side of the schedule the first time without a loss. But now they’d play the teams in the other division, starting with Bauer Electric and its perfect 3-0 record.

  The bedroom door opened and Calvin’s dad was standing there with a grin.

  “You’re off today?” Calvin said.

  “Yes I am. You ready to work?”

  Mr. Tait was an assistant principal at a high school in Jersey City. He still had the build of a basketball standout, and was usually dressed in a suit and tie. Though classes had ended for the summer, he was at the school most weekdays, taking care of details. Today he was wearing a red golf shirt and tailored shorts. He held up a list and shook it playfully. “Lots of chores,” he said.

  Calvin nodded reluctantly. “I hear you.”

  “Garage door needs to be painted. Got some shrubs to plant along the front of the house. Lawn needs trimming.” Mr. Tait glanced at the list and rubbed his chin. “That’s probably enough.” He looked amused. “For this morning.”

  Calvin sat up and spun his legs to the floor. It was 7:14 A.M. “Starting early, huh?”

  His father winked. “Seize the day.” He made an embarrassing little dance move, tightening his arms and thrusting his hips to the side.

  Calvin winced. “Very cool, Dad.”

  Twenty minutes later Calvin was stirring paint in the driveway.

  “Don’t spill it,” Dad said. “Keep it on the drop cloth.”

  Calvin sighed. “I know, Dad. I don’t intend to spill any.”

  “Just reminding you. When you go too fast, you screw up.”

  “I got it, Dad. You gonna stand there and watch me?”

  “No-ho-ho,” Mr. Tait said, stretching out the word. “I’ve got plenty to do myself. I’ll check up on you from time to time.”

  Yeah, Calvin thought as his dad went back into the house. Like every ten minutes. He climbed a few rungs of the stepladder and started the job, applying the white paint with a brush. It wasn’t a hard job, just tedious around the glass windowpanes. Within an hour he was half done.

  Zero had come over by then, eating a peanut-butter sandwich and examining Calvin’s work. He had bare feet and his curly hair was in disarray from going to sleep right after washing it.

  “Missed a spot,” Zero said, pointing toward the edge of a pane.

  Calvin frowned and dabbed at the spot with his brush. He had a few specks of paint on his arms and his face.

  “You’re turning white,” Zero said with a laugh.

  “Guess I been hanging out with you too much. Your genes are rubbing off on me.”

  “Think you’ll be done soon?”

  “No. But it don’t matter. He’s got me working all day.”

  “Thought we’d hang out later.”

  “We’ll see.” Calvin kept painting as they talked, stopping only to study his work, looking for places he’d missed.

  “Carnival’s next weekend,” Zero said.

  “Think I don’t know that?”

  “We getting anywhere?”

  “Ain’t tried yet. Figured I’d talk to them after the game.”

  “After we beat ’em?”

  “After whatever. You seen them play.”

  “We can beat them.”

  Calvin nodded slowly. “We’d better.”

  The back door opened and Mr. Tait came out. He strolled over and looked at the paint job. “Not bad,” he said.

  “Morning, Mr. Tait,” said Zero.

  “Hello, Zachary. Nice day, huh?”

  “Perfect.”

  They stood quietly for a moment, watching Calvin paint. “Well,” said Zero. “Think I’ll watch some TV. See you later.” He walked across his back-yard and into his house.

  “Ambitious kid,” Mr. Tait said quietly, with a big dose of sarcasm.

  “He’s okay,” Calvin said.

  “He might mow that lawn of theirs.” Mr. Tait motioned toward the Rollisons’ tiny yard, which had patches of worn dirt and many high tufts of grass that hadn’t been mowed in weeks. In contrast, the Taits’ lawn was thick and green and was neatly trimmed at the edges. “You can do ours when you finish here.”

  Calvin was nearly done painting when his mom came out of the house with his four-year-old sister, Chelsea. “Great job!” Mom said. “Look at the work your big man of a brother did, sweetie. Isn’t that wonderful?”

  Chelsea smiled at Calvin. “You got white freckles,” she said.

  “We’re going food shopping,” Mom said. “Anything special you want for dinner?”

  “Nah, but could you bring me a drink or something? Dad’s gonna have me working all day.”

  “I’ll rescue you,” Mom said. “Work until lunchtime. I’ll keep your father off your back.”

  After cleaning up the paint job, Calvin mowed the lawn, which didn’t take very long. The lots in this neighborhood were small.

  “Three and a half hours’ work?” Mr. Tait said as they sat at the kitchen table eating lunch. He opened his wallet and handed Calvin a ten-dollar bill.

  Calvin smiled but said, “Don’t I get minimum wage, at least?”

  “Not in this house, bud.”

  “Thanks anyway.” He folded the bill in half and put it in his pocket.

  “You should save some of that,” Dad said.

  “We’ll see.”

  Calvin went next door and got Zero, and they made their way downtown, passing the elementary school and stepping around a couple of bicycles lying on their sides on the sidewalk. They didn’t say much; Calvin deflected Zero’s comments about soccer and the Yankees with one-word responses. He had a plan, and he was focusing on it the way he’d prepare for a basketball game or a race. Thinking. Going over the strategy in his head.

  “I remembered something when I was cutting the lawn,” he said finally as they reached St. Joseph’s Church. “They got gymnastics at the Y this afternoon.”

  “Who does?”

  “Them. Our new buddies.”

  “Oh.”

  “Should be coming out anytime now. Let’s get a drink and hang.”

  They went into the market and wasted no time getting bottles of soda. Then they crossed back over the Boulevard and took a seat on the YMCA’s cement front steps, watching traffic.

  A bus went by after about ten minutes.

  “One up,” Zero said.

  Calvin gave a short, huffy laugh. He stared at the message board on the Y’s front lawn:

  AEROBICS CLASSES NOW FORMING.

  SUMMER DAY-CAMP OPENINGS.

  MEN’S BASKETBALL SIGN-UPS.

  “Hey, hey.”

  Danielle Rosado was standing in the doorway in a violet leotard and bare feet. She had athletic tape around her wrists, and her hands were white with chalk from the uneven bars. “What are you boys up to?” she asked.

  “Hanging out,” Zero said. “What are you doing?”

  Danielle held up her hands and said, “Duh. Gymnastics.”

  “You good at it?” Zero asked.

  Danielle shrugged. “I guess. Been doing it since I was five.”

  Calvin stood up. He was taller than Danielle, but he was standing three steps below her. So he climbed to the top step and pulled his shoulders back a little, trying to look built. He leaned on the railing.

  “So,” he said. “We play you guys on Tuesday.”

  “That right?”

  “That’s what the schedule says.”

  “Should be interesting.”

  “We think so.”


  Danielle looked back toward the gym. “Jessie’s still on the bars.”

  Calvin took a gulp of his orange soda, then held out the bottle to Danielle. “Want a hit?”

  Danielle pulled back slightly and wrinkled her nose, then shook her head. “No thanks.”

  “Season’s going fast,” Calvin said. “Before you know it, we’ll be in the playoffs.”

  “I guess.”

  “You know what? I think the church carnival is coming up already. That right, Z?”

  “Yeah,” Zero said. “I think it’s next weekend.”

  “Next weekend?” Calvin said. “Wow. I didn’t know that. You going to the carnival, Danielle?”

  “Probably. We usually do.”

  “Yeah. Us, too.”

  Calvin inhaled deeply and let it out. “Hot day,” he said.

  “It’s stifling in the gym,” Danielle said. “That’s why I came out here.”

  “Uh-huh,” said Calvin. “Yeah.” His throat felt very dry suddenly, so he took another swig of soda. “So ... that carnival ... you think you might be going, huh?”

  Danielle looked amused. She raised her eyebrows and said, “Mm-hmm.”

  “Yeah ... us, too.”

  “Maybe we’ll see you boys there.”

  Calvin swallowed hard. “Yeah. Maybe Friday night?”

  Danielle shrugged, but slowly. “Maybe.”

  “Me and Zero will probably get there around six.” Danielle smiled sweetly, but looked like she was holding back a giggle. “We probably will, too.”

  Calvin nodded about seven times. “That’s a week from today. Six o’clock ... we’ll probably see you there. I guess.”

  Danielle wiped her hands together again. “I guess.” She opened the door to go back into the gym. “See you at Tuesday’s game.... Better practice hard.”

  8

  Showdown

  It was a perfect evening for soccer. Not too hot, not too humid. Hardly a breeze. Two unbeaten teams had completed half a game, and things stood even: Bauer Electric 0, Little Italy 0.

  But the second half promised much more action. Danielle Rosado had spent the first half at goalie, and Jessie had played only part of the half. They’d be moving up to the front line for the rest of the game.