The Crazy Horse Electric Game by Chris Crutcher Page B

asks over a Coke at the Dragon. “Did we put ’em away or what?”
    â€œYou…put ’em…away,” Willie says, nodding, hiding behind another long drink through his straw.
    â€œSo how about my shot at the end of regulation?” she ventures.
    â€œâ€¦Good…shot,” Willie agrees. He takes another drink.
    Jenny is quiet a fraction of a moment, considering. Then, “Good shot? It was a great shot! Two girls on me; I’da faked ’em out of their jocks if they had any. The ball left my fingers at the buzzer!” She leans forward. “Willie! Why can’t I get anything from you? That was magic to me. There were a million things that could have gone wrong and none of them did. You’re the only person I know who knows what that feels like.”
    Guilt flares in Willie’s gut. Jenny wants something from him and he’s just too selfish and hurt to give it to her. “You’re…right…Jen. It…was a…great…shot. Guess I’m…jealous.”
    Jenny sighs and sits back in the booth. “Yeah,” she says. “Sorry.”
    Â 
    Cyril Wheat sits forward in his chair and flips off his shoe, spreading his fourth and fifth toes to expose monumental cracking and peeling. Willie winces at the sight of it. “Amazing to me they can call this athlete’s foot when it attacks the likes of me,” Cyril says. “Nerd’s foot, maybe. Or something Latin, like pedus fungus dorcus .” He reaches into his pack, extracting a metal spray can, and fires a powdery white stream at the afflicted area, breathing an audible sigh of relief. “Kills the offending digits,” he says, as much to himself as to Willie. “Three or four days they fall off. You lose two shoe sizes, but a cure’s a cure.
    â€œSo,” he says, replacing the spray can in his pack, “you want to do some work on your girlfriend.”
    Willie nods. “She’s…my…best friend,” he starts. “She’s…my…girlfriend…and she’s…my…best friend.”
    Cyril nods. “Okay.”
    â€œI’m …mad… at her…all…the time. Sometimes…I feel…like I …hate her.”
    â€œSounds like my marriage,” Cyril says. “What doyou hate her about?”
    Willie shrugs, then the look of recognition crosses his face and he says, “Sports. School. All…the things…she…can do. Sometimes…I just…hate her…for it.”
    Cyril’s nodding again. “She’s getting all the stuff you used to get, right? And she wants to share it with you like you used to with her, right? And that would be okay with you if you were still getting it, but now it just taps into what you’ve lost and you get angry at yourself and angry at her and angry at the world, right?”
    Willie feels as if Cyril’s been reading his mail. “So…what do…I…do?”
    â€œWelcome to ABC’s Wide World of Changes, Willie. The only thing you can do is let that go. That golden boy isn’t you anymore, and as long as you keep measuring yourself up against him, you’re gonna be mad as hell at everybody . And I’ll guarantee another thing. Keep it up and you’ll lose your girl.” Cyril’s eyes are watery; he’s feeling Willie’s pain; but he’s dead-on straight with him. “We’ve been seeing each other for a couple of months now, Willie, and you’ve worked through some pretty tough stuff, but if you don’t find a way to get your head straight about this, it’ll all be for nothing.” He sits back. “And you’ll lose your girl.”They’ve been over this before. Cyril has spent the last sixty days letting Willie find his own answers; now he’s supplying some of his own.
    Willie nods and tells him the scary part is that when he’s feeling that way, he wants to