somebody to bring her new barking lounge chair that leans back and jiggles.
But you could take me. You'd like that, wouldn't you, Mac?"
"Sure thing." He frowned, rubbing his jaw as he allowed his son to lead him
a couple of steps in the direction of his car. "But don't you think maybe we'd
better check and make sure this is all right with your mother?"
"I already called her on the car phone. She says I can ask you, but if you
don't want to, I can't whine or look pitiful at you." He stopped for a moment
and glanced up at David. "But you really want to, don't you, Mac, and that's
not even whining."
David chuckled. "It's not whining, but I'm afraid you look pretty pitiful.
Okay, sport, give me a couple of minutes to clean up and we'll go."
The sports park where the game was to be held had been a big open field
until the city divided it up into playing fields. The park contained six soccer
fields as well as six baseball diamonds, each enclosed by chain-link fences.
Hundreds of cars were parked on the grass around the fields, following an
orderless pattern apparently set by the first cars to arrive. The portable
refreshment stands that had been brought in for the day's events offered
snow cones, popcorn, cold drinks, and dill pickles of gargantuan size. Two
sets of small bleachers were positioned near each playing field, but most of
the' spectators had brought folding lawn chairs and sat at the edge of the
soccer fields or right up against the chain-link fences in order to give their
offspring instruction and encouragement as the game progressed.
When David and Ben arrived at the park, the opposing team was using the
field to practice. Ben's team, the Badgers, would take their turn next.
Although the temperature had only reached the mid-eighties, the lack of
clouds or any significant breeze made it seem warmer. As they walked
toward the bull pen David shrugged out of the windbreaker he had worn
over a navy T-shirt.
Ben glanced up at his arms. "You don't have as much scars on your arms as
you do on your back." He paused. "I guess you probably had a lot of fights."
David's lips quirked in a sardonic smile. "One-sided fights," he
acknowledged.
"How do you do a one-sided fight?"
"It's not that hard," he murmured. "There are people in the world who like to
cause pain, especially to someone who can't fight back." He glanced down
and met his son's eyes. "Don't ever do that, Ben. Don't ever fight someone
who can't give you a fair fight."
The boy nodded solemnly. "There's this kid, Malcolm, he has wires on his
leg to make it grow straight. One time a fourth grader came up and started
pushing him around and stuff. And I got in trouble with Miss Evans for
throwing dirt at him the fourth grader, not Malcolm and callin' him a
stupid butt."
"You threw dirt at him?"
Ben grinned. "That way I didn't have to get close enough for him to hit me.
He was big" He paused, his brown eyes squinting in concentration. "See, the
best thing about being in a fight is so you can tell your friends about it. If you
say you threw dirt at a kid in the fourth grade, or you clobbered Big Roy
Gene he's the meanest kid in the whole second grade that would be
something good to tell. But it would sound pretty dumb saying you won a
fight with a kid that's got wires on his leg."
David stared down at him, his heart swelling, filling up with pride. And he
found himself silently thanking Kate. She had done a fine job of raising this
boy. No man could ask for a better son.
A second later, when Ben's friends spotted him and began to shout for him
to hurry up, David walked to the small bleacher nearest the Badgers' bull
pen. Finding an empty spot on the end, he sat down and listened to the pep
talk the coach was giving the boys.
After a while he became aware of the people occupying the seats around
him, sensing the care they were taking not to look directly at the deep scars
on his arms.
"You're with Ben Moore?"
Turning his head, he found that the woman next to him was not as discreet as
the others on the stands. She was staring at him in open curiosity.
Automatically, David didn't like her. The speculation in her eyes was the
nasty kind. Hiding a smile, he wondered if she was Big Roy Gene's mother.
He nodded. "Yes, I'm with Ben."
"I guess Kate couldn't make it today." She shook her head in regret. "Some [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]