Chapter 10: One Duck Down
A/N- Chapter 11's almost entirely written, all I have to do is type it, so it should be up later tonight. ^_^ Hexen and Heretic belong to id Software, I think. Charlie's POV
*****
Everybody else is still celebrating when we get back to campus. Not me. It's not that I'm not happy to have won the game. I couldn't be more thrilled. It's just... the coughing fits are starting to worry me.
It started after the game. It was raining when we got there... I didn't bother to dry off before we got on the ice. A little water couldn't hurt, right? And I didn't think twice when I coughed a little. But now I'm starting to think I might really be getting sick. This is not the right time to come down with something.
Banksie, sitting next to me, frowns. He's spent most of the ride in an argument with Portman about whether Hexen is better than Heretic, but that doesn't mean he can't tell when I'm not doing so hot. "Charlie... you okay?"
"Fine," I lie.
He doesn't believe it, I can tell, but anything he might say is cut off as the bus unloads. Sports busses always stop in the middle of the athletics block, right next to the soccer field. Rat and Jay are on the field. She's shooting and he's trying to save—mostly unsuccessfully.
Their practice comes to a halt as we all get off the bus, and Rat pounces on Julie. "That was incredible! Way to go!"
Jay approaches Banks and me, looking a little nervous. Not that I quite blame him, Adam doesn't exactly look pleased about the arrangement. "Hey," he says cautiously. He sounds as tense as he looks. "Rat kind of dragged me out here... I didn't know you guys would show up... but..." He gives a resolute sigh and looks straight at Adam. "Sorry I went after you Sunday." And he sounds like he means it.
Adam gives me a look that clearly says 'did I just hear that?' I shrug.
Before anyone has a chance to say anything else, Rat comes over. "That was terrific, you guys!"
"Thanks," I grin. Banks just shakes his head looking dazed. She seems to find that funny.
Then, out of the blue, that stupid soccer player comes up with, "Hey Charlie, are you okay? You look a little pale."
Damn her. Why do people always have to be observant at the wrong times? I shrug it off. "Yeah, I'm fine. Playing in a game like that would've stressed you out, too."
She and Banks give me identical concerned stares.
*****
The next week went by in a blur. We beat Taylor Falls, 1-0, and received the second seed in the playoffs. Our first game is against the seventh-seeded Lakes Academy Kingfishers. They should be pushovers, we didn't have any competition from them either time during the season. On second thought, since they're seeded lower, league rules say we play on their rink. Not good to underestimate a team on their home ice.
The entire team wound up in detention Monday, Mrs. Madigan got a bit (okay, more than a bit) touchy when none of us could concentrate on chloroplasts. (We did not, however, give in to the temptation to quack at her.) And Mrs. Delaney finally gave up and told us that if we could pay attention for the rest of the week, she wouldn't make us do anything Friday.
It's Thursday afternoon, and we pulled it off.
Unfortunately, all actions require an equal and opposite reaction. And to make up for the disproportionate amount of good stuff that's happened this week, I've been feeling way beyond lousy. The three-hour practices aren't helping a bit. Everyone keeps telling me I should go see a doctor, but no way! After we win the quarterfinals, and we've got a week to rest up until the semis, then I'll have time to worry about my health. Right now it's the game that's important.
Unfortunately, Coach disagrees. He calls me over after practice, and he doesn't look too happy.
"Conway, you're a little slow out there. And you haven't been acting like yourself lately. Are you feeling all right?"
"Yeah, fine." It sounds very convincing except for the cough that comes out with it.
"Fine," he repeats. "Well then if you don't mind, I'd like you to go get a checkup. And the sooner you do, the sooner you'll be allowed to play again."
What? I storm off the ice in a terrific impression of the huffs Banksie's been leaving in lately. He can't stop me from playing! I have to play! Maybe I am a little under the weather, it doesn't mean it's interfering with my game!
I repeat my tirade to Banks about fifteen minutes later, as we leave the locker room. He raises his eyebrows. "You think you're fooling anyone? Besides, if you're coming down with something, it's better to catch it before it gets serious."
This earns him a deeply resentful glare. "Banks, do you remember when a certain Duck whom we all know and love busted his wrist at the Jr. Goodwill Games? Do you remember talking to me the night after Coach Bombay benched you?" I drop my voice a bit, pulling off a near-passable impression of him. "But I have to play! The scouts are here! This was my shot! And what'll Dad say? What am I supposed to do now, I—"
He cuts me off. "Charlie, there are wonderful things in this world called double standards."
I'm not going to dignify that with a response. But fine. I'll go to the doctor tomorrow morning. They'll see. There'll be nothing wrong with me. Nothing.
*****
When the morning comes, even I have to admit I was wrong. It feels like there's a brick stuck in my chest. "Oh, you've gotta be kidding," I groan, barely managing to drag myself out of bed.
Guy looks at me, concerned. "You gonna make it? I could get the campus doctor to come here, if you think you need it..."
I feel too bad to let my pride get in my way. "Sure."
The doctor shows up about ten minutes later, which means Guy ran all across campus to get him and made him run all across campus to get here. It doesn't take him very long to make his diagnosis.
"Son, you've got pneumonia. I'll get you a prescription, and you're going to have to stay in bed for at least a week."
No. He can't be serious. He can't possibly be serious. "But I've got a game tomorrow!"
He shakes his head. "I'm sorry. But you've got to rest."
As soon as he leaves, Banksie rushes in. Of course. Guy would've gone running to him. Is he going to give me another double standard lecture?
"Charlie..." He just shakes his head. But I don't need him to speak. His eyes tell the story. For a second, I see the old sympathy, the old concern. The old compassion. The way he looked when we were so close. Close enough that nothing could come between us, that we could run to each other to talk without a second thought.
So different now. But still... some traces of it remain.
"What are we going to do, Banks?" I ask. It doesn't happen often, but even the leader of the Ducks needs reassurance now and then. "What if we lose? I'll never forgive myself for this... I was so stupid! You guys were right, I should've gone to a doctor, should've done something..."
"Charlie, it's okay." Am I supposed to believe that? "We're not going to lose. We'll pull it off. Somehow..." He's clearly not as confident as he wants me to believe, but I've got to give him credit for trying.
I can tell what he's thinking. I know it sounds conceited, but it's true—the Ducks really have no guidance without me. We had Jesse, but he's in Colorado. Banks isn't leadership material, so he says, though I've never seen him try to lead so I wouldn't know for sure. Russ is the next one who comes to mind, and he could probably do a fair job at it, but it would take some getting used to. I can't think of anyone else who might plausibly take or be given the job.
This will be a test for the team. And this will be a test for Coach Orion, too. I only hope we can handle it. While Banks is still there, I slip into unconsciousness.
*****
Linda comes in after school. "Ohhhh... Charlie, are you feeling any better?" And she immediately starts into one of those patented girlfriend-doting-fits that I've been lucky enough to avoid for most of the time we've been together.
"Linda, you're not going to help me by suffocating me," I mutter. "Just tell me what's been going on. Have I missed anything interesting?"
She frowns. "Interesting and school never used to go together in your vocabulary."
"They still don't. You've got to learn to gossip."
That earns me a laugh, if nothing else. "Supposedly Cole got suspended for punching out a freshman. And Griffian—"
Pneumonia or not, I can still have a sense of humor. "Linda, repeat after me. Rat."
She scowls.
"Come on, you can do it. Say Rat." Of course I know from Banks that Rat has tried this before, frequently. But I've got a boyfriend-specific advantage. I'm a sick boyfriend. (Hey, that's about as boyfriend-specific as they come.)
"Did she put you up to this?"
"Not really. You're changing the subject." Another scowl. "Come on, Linda... it would make me feel so much better..." I gave her the puppy-dog eyes.
Never fails. "Fine! You win. Rat decided to mediate between Adam and Jay. They found out they both like disaster movies and bailed on her to go watch Volcano. She's either very mad or very amused, I can't tell."
I laugh. And I'm a little relieved. Banksie seems to have finally had a good stroke of luck, for once in his life.
Whatever she had to say next is interrupted as the door swings open and Guy comes in. "Hey, Charlie, how..." He sees Linda and smirks. I can just see his thought process as he begins to back off. "Oh, sorry. I'll leave you two alone."
"GERMAINE, GET BACK HERE!" I holler. Bad idea. I start coughing and Linda throws another fit. "Linda, I'm *hack* okay *cough* get off me, I need to *gasp* breathe!"
Guy is cracking up. I make a note to myself that when I get better I need to kill him. Slowly. Painfully. With either a heavy blunt object or multiple sharp pointy objects, I'm not sure which. Guess I've got plenty of time to decide that.
Plenty of time. It's gonna be a long, long week.