Read Online Muckers by Sandra Neil Wallace - Free Book Online

fist. She puts it in the cashbox and his mother points to the field. The kid starts jumping up and down all excited and looks at me like I’ve done something special. Faye Miller—that’s who the boy’s mother is. Cheering like she did when she was Bobby’s girl. Before she moved to Grasshopper Flats a couple months after Bobby shipped out.
    “Turn on the lights … ites … ites!”
The boom from the referee’s voice echoes from the megaphone as the tiger mothsgather, hovering above the lampposts. I suck back some water, watching the stars come out, covering the sky with shiny specks of white. And it doesn’t seem like we need the lights at all. That we could play in the dark underneath the stars and be just fine. Except I’m way past hungry.
    Second quarter and Rim Valley toughens up on defense. They manage to score, so we’re tied 7–7 at halftime.
    Late in the third quarter we’re driving toward another score. I call for a handoff then glance over at Cruz. By the look on his face I know he’s here—that Pop’s back. Probably to make sure he wins his bet now that we’re tied. I wonder who he’s rooting for. He always played Bobby to win. With me, I’m not so sure.
    What did I just call?
Sanchez snaps the ball and I pivot to the right, expecting Lupe to take the handoff. But Managlia’s there instead. The ball hits him in the thigh and rolls to the ground. I dive for it, but a Rim Valley guard shoves me back and pounces on the ball.
    “What was that?” Lupe shouts. “You called twenty-four!”
    I know he’s right. I shake my head then punch my thigh, knowing that I really did screw up.
    The game’s still tied in the fourth quarter and we’re running out of time. I’ve only thrown four passes the entire game, but we’ve got no choice now.
    “Just hurry up and win this thing so they can shut off the lights!” Coach is acting kind of screwy on the sideline and squinting pretty badly.
    I take the snap and drop back, scanning the field, reminding myself to settle down. That we just can’t lose on opening night. Torres is clear near the Rim Valley sideline, right where the ground stays firm so he can get enough traction. The blood pumps back into my arm and I throw a bullet inhis direction. He grabs it on the run and, with an open field ahead, sprints toward the goal line. A defensive back finally knocks him out-of-bounds, but he’s five yards from pay dirt.
    I know I’m racing down the field and I can hear the crowd calling out for me, but the game’s gone into slow motion, I’m feeling so weak.
    We huddle up and I go by body recognition, faking a handoff to Lupe and pitching the ball to who I think is Managlia. He cracks through the line and breaks a tackle, rolling across the white stripe for the score. We’re in the lead and I’m happy, but nothing comes out of my mouth. I can’t get off my knees. Somebody hoists me up by the shoulders and drags me off the field.
    “Just hold on, Ugly.” It’s Cruz, splashing water in my face. Telling me Quesada’s conversion kick is good. That we won.
    “Muckers! Muckers!”
The shift horn blasts again and you can hear the miners cheering from the open pit. I’m still down on the ground, but the guys start lifting me onto their shoulders, shouting, “Red-ee! Red-ee!”
    The Rim Valley cars flick on their headlights and start backing up, driving onto the field, trying to make it out of here without any problems. But I know the Mucker crowd will let them go without much trouble. Winning makes them awful generous.
    Coach is throwing up on the far end of the field so no one will see him. And I don’t know why—we won it. I guess he was as nervous for this game as I was.
    The boys finally let go of me and I collapse on the ground, I’m so spent.
    Rabbit leans over me with his camera and snaps a picture.
    “You’re not running that.” I try pulling the camera off his neck, but I can’t even do that. “Got any bread left?” I ask.
    Rabbit