Takedown
Michael Jasper
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Published by Michael Jasper at Smashwords
Takedown
Copyright © 2011 by Michael Jasper
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
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BONUS: At the end of this ebook, read excerpts from two of Michael's novels (also available in ebook format)!
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Table of Contents
Novel Excerpt One: From A Sudden Outbreak of Magic
Novel Excerpt Two: From Family, Pack
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Gunning for the Buddha (stories)
Heart's Revenge
The Wannoshay Cycle
A Gathering of Doorways
The Prodigal Sons
The All Nations Team
Family, Pack
In Maps & Legends (a digital comic)
The Contagious Magic series:
A Sudden Outbreak of Magic
A Wild Epidemic of Magic (coming November 2011)
A Lasting Cure for Magic (coming early 2012)
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Takedown
Far as I was concerned, the whole tournament was a foregone conclusion.
At five minutes past eight, in a mostly deserted gym, I swatted the rear end of my one hundred and twelve pounder and pushed him into the circle. My head throbbed, my mouth was dry, and the day stretched out ahead of me like a long drive across the plains. I fell into the cold metal folding chair next to the bright red mat as the referee dropped his hand to start the match.
"Stay low," I said, saving my voice for later in the tournament.
An icy winter draft carried the antiseptic odor of mat cleaner around the gym, mixed with the warm smell of fresh doughnuts and hot coffee from the concession stand. Ignoring the match in front of me, where my wrestler was down by two already, I searched the bleachers for Sarah.
She had to be here. Sarah never missed any of her brother Mark's matches. But all I saw were the dull faces of Pender farmers and their families sitting next to their sons—my team—watching the match, shouting encouragement.
No Sarah. I needed to find her and straighten things out from last weekend.
Before I knew it, Urbanec, my one-twelve wrestler, was down six to nothing going into the third period. He was a pretty good wrestler, had a good shot of making it through districts to state, but I was the only person in his life who ever pushed him. After the buzzer sounded, I slapped my fist into my hand and caught his eye, then pointed at the floor.
In the middle of the mat, Urbanec got down on his hands and knees, and his opponent placed one hand on Urbanec's elbow and curled the other around his midsection.
The final period began with another buzz, sending a fresh wave of pain through my temples. I shouldn't have gone out drinking last night with Johnson, the new English teacher at school. But he was the only other teacher my age here, and what else was there to do in Pender on a Friday night?
"Let's go now," I said to Urbanec, without really looking at him.
Sarah really should've been here by now. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a flurry of skinny white legs, followed by the thump of bodies hitting the mat. Urbanec was on his back, struggling like a caught fish.
I jumped up, knocking the folding chair over with a loud clang.
"Bridge your neck!" I said in a loud voice, trying not to yell. I always lost my voice at these tournaments. Blood rushed and pounded in my head as I stepped toward the circle, where Urbanec was thrashing around on his back, lifting first one shoulder, then the other, kicking and grunting.
"Move, Urbanec! Don't just—"
The referee slapped the mat once, hard.
From one corner of the gym, weak applause drifted over. Urbanec rolled to his feet, and the referee raised his opponent's hand. Urbanec walked off the mat, angling away from me, his head down and his eyes blinking fast. Bud, my assistant, handed him his warm-up and patted him on the back with a pudgy hand.
I took a deep breath and stepped close to the skinny little sophomore, ignoring Bud.
"Don't cry. He caught you. You've got to keep your weight back, and fight like crazy when you're on the bottom. And bridge when you're on your back. I told you that a million times." I looked up and glimpsed light blond hair in the stands. "It's okay," I said, squeezing his bony shoulder. "Get 'em next time."
Stepping around the mats, warm-up clothes, medical kits, and jump ropes that littered the gym floor, I headed toward my team's campsite in the west bleachers. Unfamiliar faces from other schools glanced at me for half a second, then looked away when they didn't recognize me.
In our corner of the stands, four of my wrestlers leaned back onto duffel bags and pillows, half-asleep again now that the match was over. Oberg and Hentges were talking to their parents, and Mr. Hentges rubbed his son's head and laughed his loud, braying laugh that drew rude looks from the other school's team camped next to us. My headache intensified.
All alone, Mark sat listening to his headphones. Underneath his red warm-up hood, his face was pale and colorless from starving himself all week to make weight, which he did—barely—this morning at the seven a.m. weigh-ins. He held a bunched-up Subway wrapper in his hand that I could tell he didn't want me to see.
His mother sat behind him, alone, and she looked away when she saw me. Sarah wasn't there, but I knew I'd seen her. Instead of sitting down, I crossed the gym again, dodging other coaches and athletes and parents, and made my way to the concession stand. I'd kill anyone who got in the way of my cup of coffee this morning.
"Andy," a voice said from behind me. "I really don't want to argue with you today. I just came to watch Mark wrestle."
"Sure. No problem." I turned, and my headache vanished when I saw here.
Sarah wore a red Pendragons sweatshirt, the dragon mascot looking less menacing over the soft curves of her chest. A clip at the top of her head held up her light blonde hair. She wasn't smiling, but she still looked good. I loosened my tie and waited for her to say something more.
She folded her program in half, then folded it in half again. "Come on," she began. "I meant what I said last weekend. I just need some time for myself and school."
"Don't give me that tired shit again," I said, my voice gravelly and low. She pulled her body back the tiniest bit when I swore, glancing behind her quickly. "If you don't want to see me, tell me why. Don't give me excuses."
Sarah watched me with her head turned slightly while I talked, as if trying to gauge how upset I was. In the gym, a coach yelled instructions to his wrestler in a desperate voice, sounding like a frantic mother.
She dropped her eyes and turned toward the gym doors. "Let's talk later. I need to get back and watch Mark wrestle." She stopped and looked at me again. "And anyway, aren't you supposed to be in there coaching your team?"
"Fuck the team," I said, knowing she would wince. Sometimes I had the need to get the last word, whether the conversation was over or not. Her blue eyes became narrow and guarded. "Bud can handle them. You and I need to clear this up right now."
Sarah walked off before I could finish. Her long legs carried her back into the gym, leaving me alone again. The coach continued yelling inside the gym, and I hoped someone was listening to the poor guy. I licked my dry lips and glanced at the two teenage boys who had arrived to work at the concession stand. They were watching Sarah leave, small smiles on their faces.
I slapped a dollar on the counter and squinted at them when they jumped.
"A large coffee, please." My eyes felt dry and sore. The first boy, wearing faded jeans and his school's football jersey, filled a Styrofoam cup from a big thermos.
"Don't grow up, you guys," I said. "Stay young, and stay out of trouble."
Grinning uncomfortably, the boys didn't say anything back.
I grabbed my coffee, listening to the desperate coach's voice in the gym fall when a sharp whistle blew.
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At ten-thirty, Mark pinned his opponent in twenty-nine seconds. The Pender crowd jumped to their feet, giving him a small but loud standing ovation. They saw Mark as the next Pender state qualifier, the first in almost five years. If only there were more kids like him. Mark shook my hand when he came off the mat, a slightly surprised look in his blue eyes, as if he didn't realize his own ability.
I stepped back as the rest of the team crowded around him. Lanky and muscular, Mark was far and away the best wrestler, and best overall kid, on my team. Everyone looked up to him and wanted to be more like him, yet they held him at an arm's distance, as if he were too good to touch. I knew that Mark would be incredibly successful in whatever he did, if he ever left Pender.
I fished three aspirin out of the med kit and swallowed them down with warm water from a water bottle. Sarah rushed down the bleachers. All the other guys on my team stepped back to let her by, and when she reached Mark she threw her arms around him. Any other guys his age would be embarrassed, trapped in his sister's grasp, but Mark just grinned and shrugged his shoulders.
"Twenty-nine seconds, Mark!" Sarah said, letting go of him. "I can't believe you!"
Remembering Sarah's arms around me, I felt the aspirins drop all the way down to my empty stomach. She had had been an outstanding athlete herself in high school, and she still had quite a grip. I wondered if she was hugging anyone else these days.
I looked around the gym for Bud. I didn't have any wrestlers competing at the next two weights, so I had some time to rest and hopefully get rid of my hangover once and for all. Bud was probably holed up in the coaches' room, finishing off the rest of the complimentary doughnuts. He had eaten both of mine during the seven a.m. seeding meeting while I was busy arguing for Mark to get listed at the top of his bracket for an easier opponent. Bud hadn't said a word, licking frosting off his fingers as I did all the work.
Oberg, my super-heavyweight, tossed someone's duffel bag to Urbanec, who threw it to Hentges, my one-thirty-two-pounder. Urbanec didn't seem too upset about getting his butt kicked in his first match.
I stared at them until they saw me, then all three sat down and shut up. Before I turned back to the matches, I caught a glimpse of Sarah in the stands behind me, trying to hide a smile behind her hand. She'd told me on our second date that most of the kids at school were scared of me. I guessed she meant it as a compliment.
As far as this town went, I had bigger plans. Whether I made tenure or not, I hoped to be gone in two years. I needed the experience, but I didn't need the small-town grief. Ever since moving here two and a half years ago, people would nod at me or wave to me from their cars, but they'd never invite me over to their place for a beer.