Northbrook takes the ball, and, high on adrenaline from scoring, they come out charging. Our defenders fight them off, but the ball stays on our side of the field. Now the play is moving closer . . . a shot is coming, I know it. I see the ball zooming toward me, over my head. I jump and reach and just tip the ball up, but instead of going up and over the top of the net, it hits the crossbar and bounces out in front of the goal. Another shot! I dive right and block the second shot with my body. It ricochets off me right at the feet of the Northbrook striker. He settles it and shoots . . . but I’m up on my knees and I lunge left and grab the ball, pulling it in close. My heart is hammering in my chest. My teammates are yelling. The crowd is screaming. Three saves!
“Way to go, big guy!” Will yells.
“Awesome save, Eric!” someone else calls out.
I walk slowly to the edge of the penalty box, savoring the moment. I bounce the ball three times and punt it so it arcs high in the sky across the center line to the other end of the field.
We end up winning two to one. Making those three saves in a row really helped pump up our team and deflate Northbrook. I didn’t let them score on me again.
Coach Swenson talks to us for a few minutes after the game, and then we grab our gear and walk toward the locker room entrance, where the fans are waiting to congratulate us. I texted Renee that I would meet her here after the game and then we would figure out what we wanted to do, so I’m scoping out the crowd looking for her. She’s standing over to one side with Cole and Bonnie. As I walk over to them, some of the fans congratulate me on my saves, and I stop and say goodbye to my family. Will has gone over to talk to his dad, and I can see that they’re arguing.
“Hey,” I say to Renee when I reach them. “Do you mind waiting here a few minutes while I take a quick shower? I thought we could get something to eat in town.”
“Sure,” she says, smiling. My heart does a flip.
“We’ll wait here with her,” Cole volunteers. “Then we can all go together.”
“OK. Maybe.” I really want to be alone with Renee for our first “date.” “What’s up with Will and his dad?” I nod in their direction. I have a bad feeling about it.
“There’s something going on with them, but I don’t know what,” Bonnie says, frowning and shaking her head, which makes her blond curls jump. “Will’s really pissed at him.”
Maybe I know. “I’ll be right back.” The locker room isn’t my first choice for personal hygiene since it’s pretty gross, but it’s all there is, so I shower and change and am back out again within ten minutes. The crowd has thinned out by now and it’s getting dark. Renee, Cole, and Bonnie are sitting in the grass.
“We were thinking we’d all go to Bub’s Burgers,” Cole says.
“OK, but maybe Renee and I could meet you there.” I look at Renee. “Do you want to walk over? It’s not too far.”
“Yes, I’d love to,” she says, getting up and brushing the grass off her shorts.
It’s not totally dark yet, more like dusk, but all the street lights are already on in the parking lot. There’s an older residential neighborhood between the high school and downtown, and I steer us in that direction instead of the taking the main drag so we can walk through the quieter streets. The buzzing of cicadas rises and falls in a wave of sound all around us, and the smell of freshly mown grass scents the warm night air. We pass a group of kids playing kick the can in the dark. I’m very conscious of Renee beside me. Even though we don’t know each other very well, I feel a connection to her.
“So, how do you like living in the States?” I ask.
“I’ve visited before, but living here is different. Everything is so big! The houses and cars are bigger, the streets are wider, and the supermarket is enormous. Even the people are bigger—I mean, taller,” she adds quickly.
“Just admit it, you mean fatter,” I laugh.
“No, really, I didn’t!” She stops and puts a hand on my arm. I think she’s afraid she’s offended me.
“It’s OK,” I say. “We’re pretty well aware of it.”
“Well, some people are fatter, but Americans really are taller. Like you,” she says softly. She’s looking up at me. The top of her head barely comes up to my chin. We’re almost facing each other, stopped on the sidewalk. I look down at her and her eyes meet mine. We stand there for a moment and I get that feeling of knowing, like I know her more than I possibly could already, and then my eyes travel down her face to her slightly parted lips. I can’t help wondering what it would be like to kiss her. I take a breath and quickly turn away. It’s too soon for that. I start walking again and she falls in place beside me.
“It helps to be tall in the goal,” I say to break the spell.
“You were great tonight. Those saves you made in the first half changed the game in our favor.”
“Thanks. You seem to know about soccer.”
“It’s extremely popular in Europe, more like a religion. Everyone watches it.”
“Was it hard for you to leave your friends behind to come here?”
“Yes and no. I could have stayed in France and lived with my grandparents, but it’s exciting to come here. An adventure. I also wanted to be with my family.”
“Do you have brothers and sisters?”
“A younger sister. What about you?”
“A younger brother and a younger sister.” Even going at a slow pace, we’ve reached the end of the neighborhood. If we cross the street and continue we’ll almost be at the restaurant. I’m not ready to join the others yet, so I ask, “Are you hungry or do you want to keep walking?”
“I ate something earlier, so I’m fine. Let’s keep walking.”
“Good.” I smile at her and turn right at the corner down another residential street.
“So, where was I in my questioning? I know—what is your favorite thing to do?”
“Am I being interrogated?”
“Yes. Do you mind?”
“No, as long as I get equal time. I would say my favorite thing to do right now is painting and drawing. Last year it was sculpting.”
“So you’re an artist. Is that what you’d like to do when you grow up?” I make quotation marks in the air.
“I think so. I’m just not sure what type of art.” We pass under a street lamp and it abruptly goes out.
I surprise myself by saying, “That happens to me a lot.”
“What happens?” she asks.
“You’ll probably think this is weird, but street lights and lights in parking garages often go on or off when I go under them.”
“Really?” She looks at me quizzically.
“I’ve never really told anyone about it because it’s hard to explain. I mean, a light going on or off isn’t really a big deal, but it happens to me so much that I started noticing it. Kind of strange.” I laugh self-consciously.
“It actually reminds me of a scientist my father knows, although for him it’s much worse. My dad says that every time this guy comes into the lab, the instruments start to go haywire and their experiments get messed up.”
“No kidding? That makes what happens to me seem less bizarre. It must make it hard for that guy to do his job.”
“You would think so. My dad says it may have something to do with his energy field. Maybe you have a