Double Fake by Rich Wallace Page B

down and cupped some into his hands, soaking his skinny chest and shoulders. “Feels good,” he said.
    “Things better cool off before practice tonight,” Zero said.
    “Maybe a degree or two.”
    “Never thought I’d be playing soccer.”
    “You know what my dad wanted me to do instead?” Calvin asked. “Take golf lessons. Golf! He took me to one of those pitch-and-putt courses out by Livingston a couple of weeks ago. Par fifty-four. It took me a hundred and fifty-four.”
    “Not your sport, huh?”
    “Maybe later in life. Like retirement age.”
    A wadded-up piece of paper hit Calvin in the shoulder and he quickly turned around. Twin black-haired girls his age were standing on the path, leaning over the railing and grinning. Jessie and Danielle Rosado. Both girls were lean and witty. Calvin knew them well.
    Calvin scooped up the paper and hurled it back. “Don’t pollute, ladies,” he said.
    “Heard you boys are playing soccer,” said Jessie, the twin with wild braids.
    “You heard right,” said Calvin.
    “What team you on?” asked Danielle, who’d had her hair straightened.
    “Little Italy,” said Zero. “You playing?”
    “Of course,” said Jessie. “Bauer Electric. We got second in the whole league last year and we have seven players back. This year we’re gonna win it.”
    “We’ll see about that,” said Calvin.
    “We’re the electric team,” said Danielle. “We’ll shock you.”
    “We’ll light you up,” added Jessie, laughing.
    “Oh yeah?” said Zero. “Well, we’ll... we’ll pizza you.”
    “Good one, Z,” said Calvin.
    The girls looked at each other and rolled their eyes. They started walking away. Jessie looked back and said to Calvin, “Watch out for leeches.”
    “There ain’t no leeches in here,” Calvin said, but he pulled one leg from the water and looked at it. “The mercury kills ’em.”
    “There’s leeches everywhere,” said Jessie. “Beware.”
    Zero stepped into the water, then turned and watched the twins walk away. “There’s girls in this league?” he said to Calvin.
    “Didn’t you look at the rosters? We got three girls on our own team.”
    “Oh, yeah.” Zero nodded his head and a slow smile started to creep across his face. “Guess that’s not so bad,” he said.
    Calvin grinned. “Not so bad,” he said, pointing toward the Rosados, who were fifty yards away by now. “Not so bad at all.”

3
    Toasted
    T he YMCA league started with a full-league clinic, where the basics of passing, dribbling, shooting, goaltending, and defense were taught. The players broke into several groups for the drills.
    Calvin was a natural athlete, quickly picking up any game he tried. But within minutes of the start of the clinic he realized that he had some work to do if he was going to excel in this league. He could handle the ball all right, but he was continually faked out by more experienced players.
    Here was Jessie Rosado during a one-on-one drill, stepping left then quickly going right, guiding the ball with the outside of her foot as Calvin lunged in the wrong direction.
    Then came Johnny Rodriguez, deftly stepping over the ball, tapping it with his heel, and leaving Calvin flat-footed as he darted toward the goal.
    “Watch the ball, Calvin, not the player,” said Luis Diaz, the teenager whose rapid footwork Calvin had admired in the park that afternoon. Luis was a key player on Hudson City’s high-school team and one of the coaches in this summer league. “They can make all the dodges and jukes they want, but if you keep your eyes on the ball, they won’t fake you out. You’ll catch on. You’ve got the skills.”
    Calvin nodded. This wouldn’t be easy, but he’d get it.
    He did better with dribbling—his excellent speed and coordination were a big plus there. But he needed to work on that as well. “Don’t just kick it and chase it,” said coach Irvin Cornell, who’d played soccer at Essex Community College. “Touch the ball with