CHAPTER FIFTEEN- Winning and Losing
It all fell away.
There was no way of explaining it in words, and if Rob and Lucia had ever bothered to talk about football, she'd have undoubtedly been puzzled at his lack of verbiage to describe the game he loved so well.
But there were simply not words.
From a tot on, he'd lived the game-eat, sleep, breathe-he'd even had his bedroom covered in pictures of his favorite team. And from the moment he'd been able to choose for himself, Rob Wesley had always favored the underdog.
But even those years of devotion to the teams and the sport fell away when Rob himself got on the field in a real game. He would not have been able to explain the difference between a practice and a match, only that there truly was a difference, and a great one.
He may have been angry with his sister the night before, ready to throttle Drake Mallory, confused and elated in turns about Lucia, and totally despondent over his team's choice for a masque costume, but none of that mattered now.
Now it was all about Rob and how he planned to defend what was his and his team's.
When the game ended, Rob felt as though only moments had passed-minutes, perhaps, but not hours. He didn't feel those long moments, not yet. There was no burn in his muscles, no weariness in his joints, only pure adrenaline.
Lucia sat in the uppermost level of the stands, her hands clasped between her knees as she alternately prayed for his safety and for his saves. He was magnificent, but she already knew that.
As his teammates gathered around him, celebratory and laudatory, hooting like the bunch of teenaged boys they were, Lucia stepped down the stands and slipped away from the school, knowing full well there would be no clichéd look up to the stands from him; football was in his blood for the moment, and she fully understood that. She'd not have noticed if Rob himself had landed on her desk if she was well and truly into her writing.
So, with the sounds of their victory-his victory-behind her, Lucia walked home with a smile on her face.
The underdog had done quite well, she thought.
Her underdog.
~~~
He showered despite his discomfort-it was just bloody difficult to try and shower with a cadre of teammates slapping your back when you were all mother-naked in a communal shower.
But really, it felt damned good to have won, and by so great a margin. There could be no fault with his game that day, and he could find no fault with his team's performance. There would be no extra practices this weekend, only celebration.
"My house!" one of the older teammates shouted, banging on the lockers as he ran down the row and back. "First game of the season deserves a bit of a bender, eh?"
Rob could only grin in agreement and let the wave sweep him along.
Everything fell away.
~~~
"Oh, for heaven's sake."
He was having a positively lovely dream… about flying, of all things, and he seemed to be playing football in the air.
"Get up, you great prat!"
Perhaps it was a great deal more complicated than football. There really seemed to be more than one ball, which made him want to panic a little. After all, it was hard enough to keep one ball out of the-
-rings-
- net, but more than one?
"You are blocking the door!"
Something rolled him over, and Rob's head smacked soundly into something hard and wooden. He jerked, flailing his arms, and knocked his sister squarely in the chin.
"Oh, you bloody fucking-"
His guttural moan cut her off. He felt as though he'd been dunked in a barrel of nails several times, eyes-first. As he sat up, Rob decided it was likely a few of those nails had actually slipped inside his ears… making their way to his brain.
Buggering nails.
"Ginny…" he rasped, holding up a hand. "I am dying."
"You're so hung over you've forgotten my name?" Genevieve's shrill voice was doing positively nothing for those penny nails sliding through his cranium. In fact, Rob was fairly certain the keening complaint had actually dislodged a few of the pointy buggers and sent them careening to as-yet uncharted corners of his skull.
"Mercy?" he asked, pleased with the question. He wasn't too far gone, then, if he could coherently… sort of… ask for mercy, right?
"Ohhhh, you so cannot tell Mum about that night with Drake now," Gen said, and though Rob had since squeezed his eyes shut in self-defense, he could actually hear that his sister's arms were crossed.
Remarkable.
"What time is it?" One syllable words, minimal lip movement. He commended himself once more and struggled into a sitting position.
"It's 3 in the morning, Sunday. Wonderful way to spend the Lord's day, love. Positively reverent." Gen grabbed him under the armpits and moved him toward the couch, glad he'd grown tall but not bulky. It would have been ever so much harder if he'd been built like Charlie.
He provided a welcome distraction for her. She'd been on her way to the kitchen to make herself warm milk, troubled by dark dreams inhabited by a fair-faced, black-souled boy and the sound of a massive snake. She'd hardly slept at all, and when she'd seen Rob slumped in the doorway-poor git-she figured both their misery could use a little company. He'd been gone since the game, not even their parents had gotten the opportunity to talk to him.
But they'd parented five other boys, so it was well they knew what behavior to expect. A team full of boys getting a little buzzed on watered-down brew wasn't going to hurt anyone, especially considering none of them would be let within a mile of a set of auto keys.
She headed for the kitchen, ready to make him a cup of tea and herself that warm milk, but she saw he'd fallen asleep.
Gen covered him up before she went back to bed.
~~~
Less than a week. Sunday through Thursday… definitely less than a week.
For a young woman as resourceful as Lucia Lovejoy, five day seemed plenty of time to gather a costume and await the printing of an article she'd poured her heart and soul into.
But it wouldn't be just any costume, she knew, and it wasn't just any article.
Beyond that, she didn't feel she needed to offer any rationale. But the truth of the matter was, it was becoming hard to concentrate. Her waking moments as well as her moments of repose were filled with strange images she couldn't quite comprehend, but wasn't quite ready to discard.
Large, equine-looking creatures pulling carriages marched through some of these dreams; in others, Gen and Connor and Drake Mallory and Rob were all walking through stone corridors, but never together. A long red train wound its way through her daydreams, spouting off great gouts of steam as laden carts rolled down its halls.
These were the things wonderful stories could be made of, if only she could grasp them fully, and if only she could bring herself to write about them. But they felt so real, Lucia was reluctant to touch them with a pen. It was almost as if they belonged somewhere else, not on a piece of paper. So she left them alone, knowing her concentration was suffering, but not quite ready to confront the reasons why.
She'd come up with some sort of costume, just as soon as she knew what Rob was going to be.
~~~
"007." He looked up at her through his eyelashes, gauging her reaction. "I swear it, Lovey, I'm not
making it up." Rob toyed with her fingertips, leaning back against his locker and looking at her through new
eyes.
Most Mondays just felt treacherous. This one felt wonderful. He'd won a game, then he'd nearly died of the most murderous hangover imaginable. Rob felt he'd gotten a new lease on life. With his sister's voice hammering nails into his cerebrum, Rob hadn't really ever expected to see Lucia again.
Now that he was seeing her, he felt wonderful, if a bit guilty. It didn't matter how much she told him she'd been fine all weekend, he wished he'd thought to see her.
He'd just have to write himself a note next time, that was all.
"I believe you," Lucia said, wanting to cuddle into him like a cat. He felt wonderful and shy and forward all at once, and damn it all, she'd missed him that weekend, no matter how much she'd pretended she didn't. "Well, you looked very capable of saving the world Saturday," she said proudly, no trace of hesitance to her tone. "I think it's a wonderful idea. I'll find something to go along with it." At his skeptical look, she laughed lightly, patting his cheek. "Oh ye of little faith," she said. "I've class to get to."
And because they'd been interrupted on Friday, she leaned up and kissed him, soft and quick, a brush over his lips, and walked down the hall satisfied with herself and knowing full well he was watching her go.
She had to restrain herself from adding a little jump of joy.
~~~
"Here, Lovey, thought you might want to read this."
She'd been trying to write out a few of her thoughts-trains, singing hats, a castle-just to see if they sounded as fascinating on paper as they looked in her mind. The last hour of the day was a study session for Lucia, one she often used to hand out the Holforth Herald on its print days.
It wasn't a print day-print day wasn't until Friday-and she had a paper sitting right in front of her.
"Sports supplement." The girl-the same one who was constantly challenging Lucia in newspaper… and what was her name, exactly? Lucia cursed herself for not remembering, for not paying attention to someone other than Rob for once-smiled sweetly, the saccharine so poisoned Lucia nearly gagged. "Covering the football game this weekend, and the wonderful captain who led them to their win. Were you there? I didn't even see you."
"I was there," Lucia said quietly, touching her fingertips to the photograph of Rob on the front page, the tiny dots that made up the moment of him jumping in the air as the game came to a close. "You're trying to scoop me," she finally said, looking up at the girl. "Why would you even bother?"
"I don't know what you're talking about!" was the clichéd answer the girl gave, and as she flipped back her perky little ponytail, it struck Lucia that this was the kind of girl Rob's teammates undoubtedly saw him with.
This girl wouldn't have to think twice about how to be a Bond girl.
"It's a personality profile," Lucia finally said, standing and looking the girl in the eye. Blast if she could remember her name, but Lucia would be damned if she really cared.
Someone like this didn't deserve a name.
"If you've nothing better to scoop than a feature, then I think I should feel sorry for you." Lucia gathered her books, tucked the paper on top of them, and hoped they were as close to last bell as she thought they were. She simply couldn't stand still, so eager was she to read what this cannibal had written. But she couldn't do it here, not in public. Not in front of her.
What would Father do? She asked herself the question over and over, simply staring unflinchingly at her adversary while waiting for that bell. When it finally rang, Lucia wasn't the first to move. She stood her ground and waited for the young woman to slink away.
When she finally walked into the hallway, she saw Rob standing among all of his teammates…
And every one of them was waving a copy of the supplement.