Top Wing by Matt Christopher

him from almost the entire team. Across the field, Benton looked as though he was
     going to shout something mean, but he shook his head and frowned instead.
    Dana knew he couldn’t let it get him down. If he did, he’d be useless on the field.
    Still, he dragged a little as he ran back up the field to get in position for a pass. As he jogged along, just inside the
     sideline, he heard someone in the stands speak sharply.
    “Say, pal, would you mind putting out your cigarette? I have a lung problem. Smoke really bothers me. Okay?”
    “Sure,” came the answer. “Wish you’d said something sooner. No problem.”
    The brief conversation made him think of his father. Would Dad have to be extra careful to sit in the “No Smoking” section
     from now on? he wondered. And what about Benton? How bad are his lungs now? Look at him over there, huffing and puffing.
    Benton had slowed down a lot by now. A pass in his direction from Mike went right by him. Dana recovered it and started dribbling
     it downfield, toward the Rams’ goal. Two halfbacks were nearby and went after him. He waited until they were almost on top
     of him. Then he booted it to Steve, who was running alongside and calling to him.
    Here you go, Steve, he thought. It’s all yours. It’s about time I set you up for a goal.
    In a single motion, the Rams’ backs turned onto Steve, who flicked the ball over to Lance.
    By now the action was well over the center line, moving closer and closer to the goal.
    Dana kept up with Steve and Lance as they gradually advanced.
    Suddenly Steve slowed down. Dana was about five yards to his right and a few feet behind. The Rams seemed to have forgotten
     about him — or they were counting him out again.
    That was their mistake. Steve half-turned and passed the ball to Dana.
    He trapped it with his right shin and stepped on it. Then he drew back a few steps and moved in for the kick. Head down, he
     drew back his right foot and booted the ball squarely with his instep. There was a thud as the ball made contact with the
     top of his laces.
    The hard, solid kick went right where Dana wanted it to go — to the wide open space at the left side of the goal.
    Score!
    The stands went wild, shouting his name. Dana Bellamy, the Anchors’ right wing, had just scored his second goal of the game.
    The score now read: Rams 3, Anchors 2.

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    A s play resumed, Dana noticed that the other guys weren’t so cool to him. Maybe they don’t buy all the rotten things Benton’s
     been saying about me, he thought. Or maybe it’s just ’cause I’m scoring some goals. I hope they can see I’m not letting him
     get to me. I’m still doing all I can for the team.
    There was no time to brood about his problems. He had to keep up with the ball as it moved back and forth, up and down the
     field.
    With just a few minutes remaining, Paul Crayton stole the ball from a Rams forward, deep in Anchors territory. A quick look
     around showed that he had a clear field toward the Rams’ goal. He got off a solid boot for a breakaway, hoping that one of
     the Anchors’ midfielders or forwards would make it pay off.
    For a moment, it looked as though it would — until a Rams tackler stole the ball from under Benton’s nose.
    The proud possessor of the ball didn’t have much time to gloat, however. Dana moved in on him and blocked a flick pass to
     his left. Steve got the ball on the rebound and started to set up a goal play.
    He faked a pass to Dana on his right, then drew back a few steps. He kicked the ball with all his might.
    “That sucker’s gone!” Dana yelled.
    He was right.
    The game was now tied: Rams 3, Anchors 3.
    The entire team broke out in shouts and cheers. They exchanged both high fives and tens, clapped each other on the shoulders,
     and danced for joy.
    Dana noticed that in the midst of all the hoopla, Benton stayed away from him. He tried to tell himself that it didn’t matter,
     but he knew that deep down it did.
    Stunned by