A World Without You. A. S. Peterson
lead. On the last drive of the game, Derek called the flea flicker, his favorite play. He handed the ball off to Jess who ran left, turned, and pitched it back to Derek who passed it downfield to Scott’s waiting hands.
During this play, Matt’s team played man-to-man defense and Randy sprinted at top speed beside Scott. Thrusting his hands forward, Randy contacted the side of Scott’s neck, tackled him roughly, and threw him to the ground.
Scott hit the earth, feeling as if he had crashed into a brick wall. He gasped for the air that had been knocked out of him. Randy’s additional weight added to the pain. His rival snarled in his ear, “This is my favorite part of the game, nerd.”
Breathless, Scott was unable to answer. His mind wandered to the girl in the park. This was how he felt when she smiled at him.
As Randy jumped to his feet, Scott rolled onto his side, inhaling as his breath slowly returned to normal.
Karl, his conscientious friend, said, “Dude, grab my hand. I’ll help you up.”
As Scott was being pulled up, Derek cussed out Randy. Scott grinned slightly. Derek was a man of the game and despised illegal hits which produced injuries. His friend was in constant battle with Randy who pushed the limits.
As Derek’s face flushed with anger, he forcefully shoved Randy who was looking quite pleased with himself. Derek yelled, “Illegal use of the hands!”
Matt, the peacemaker, stepped between Derek and Randy, but Derek simply thrust Matt out of his way with one arm and then hit his chest. “It’s my turn,” he growled, glaring at Randy who hesitated, obviously working through the idea of another fight. Seeing his hesitation, Derek added, “If Scott can’t play this season neither will you. I guarantee it.”
Randy’s face tightened into a scowl. All the guys knew Randy constantly punched his boxing bags and practiced his fighting moves and was becoming a fearless fighter. Even after all of this practicing, Derek could still take Randy down but it was never an easy task. For that reason, Derek rarely goaded him.
Randy shoved his hands into his pockets, turned, and left the park without a word.
The guys watched him leave. Brett, their unintelligent friend, said, “Chicken.” He faced the guys. “What a wimp.”
“Why didn’t you call Randy that when he could hear you? Maybe you’re the wimp,” Karl chided.
Brett puffed out his chest and stepped forward. “I can beat you up.”
Karl shook his head. “What are you? Two years old?”
Brett made a fist. “Let me punch you. Then you’ll know I’m not two years old.”
Derek growled impatiently, “Knock it off, you two.”
Five minutes later, Derek and Scott walked down Third Street making their way home. Derek tossed the football into the air and caught it. He asked, “Why were you late?”
“Went for a walk.”
“Where?”
“Around.”
Derek asked sarcastically, “Did you go looking for your missing part?”
Scott looked sideways at Derek. All his life, Scott felt like a part of himself was missing, like an arm or a leg. It was such an odd sensation that he ignored it; but wherever he went or whatever he did, the feeling remained. What was even stranger was the time he went to Disneyland during the summer before sixth grade, it was the first time he felt like a whole person. Why Disneyland? He had always wondered if he went back, would he feel complete again? He never told anyone about these bizarre sensations. Who would believe him? Two years ago, he did mention to Derek that he felt like a piece of him was missing. He never thought Derek would use that information against him.
Scott kicked at a rock, regretting that decision. He replied, “Yeah, I found it. Now I have a third arm.”
Derek laughed. “Yeah, well, next time, don’t go looking for your missing part when there’s a football game.”
Scott didn’t respond. Football was his friend’s passion. Beside girls, winning was Derek’s desire. Being second best was never good enough; Derek had to be first. For that reason, Derek always insisted they were on the same team. After becoming friends in third grade, the two of them began playing team sports. Few boys their age equaled their agility and athleticism.
At the corner of Oak Avenue and Third Street, Scott stopped before parting ways with Derek. His friend’s good looks, neatly cut dark-brown hair, and charm always grabbed the girls’ attention, but his temper was nothing to trifle with. Scott knew his next statement would trigger his friend’s impatience. “I won’t be playing football this Thursday.”
Derek creased his brows, studying Scott who tried to appear nonchalant, but that only proved to Derek that Scott was hiding something. “Why not?”
“Busy.”
“Yeah, well, don’t make it a habit.”
A few minutes later, Scott crossed his carefully tended front lawn and entered his turn-of-the-century one-story white house. He walked through the recently vacuumed living room, smelling of wood cleaner. He continued to the back of the house, passed the hallway leading to the bedrooms, and moved toward the tidy kitchen, dining area, and small family room.
He strolled into the dining area and smiled at his two-year-old sister. “Scottie!” Megan squealed. She raised her arms into the air, wanting Scott to lift her out of the high chair. He released the strap buckle.
“How’s my little Megan doing?” he asked, pulling her out and twirling her around. She giggled, grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked it. “Ouch,” Scott said and released her grip. “Megan, you keep pulling my hair.”
His mother laughed as she brought his grilled cheese sandwiches to the table. “If it wasn’t so long, she wouldn’t be able to grab it.”
Scott glanced at his mom’s blond shoulder-length hair. “She pulls your hair and I don’t see you rushing out to get it cut.”
His mom furrowed her brows, irritated by his remark. “Don’t get smart. Besides, that’s not the point.” Placing the sandwich roughly on the table, she added, “Eat your lunch, and if you get smart again, you’re grounded.”
At 5:15 that evening, Scott was in his bedroom when he heard his dad enter the house. His dad had once told him coming home from work was his most enjoyable time of day, especially if he came home to a peaceful environment. Through his bedroom door, Scott heard Megan squeal as she demanded affection from him. He could picture his dad picking up Megan, tossing her into the air, and catching her. Then he’d walk into the kitchen to see Scott’s mom. Even after fifteen years of marriage, his dad was always happy to see her. They’d kiss. After that, his dad would raise his brows and say some wacky comment like, “You look good.”
If Scott’s mom was in a decent mood, she’d reply, “You look better.”
His dad would add, “You look the best.” Then his parents would laugh as if they had some private joke. The entire scene was weird, but Scott was just glad his parents loved each other.
Scott left his bedroom and met up with his dad when he was walking into their small family room. After a pat on the back, his dad asked, “How was your day?”
Having to listen to his mom pester him several times today about his hair, Scott complained, “Mom keeps nagging me about my hair.”
His dad frowned, giving him the look that said, “Why are you two constantly at each other?” As his dad sat on his tan reclining chair in the family room, he stated firmly, “Let it go, Scott.”
Whenever his dad spoke this directly, it was best to take his advice. Scott sat on the sofa and wisely changed the subject to football, ignoring the frustration his mom always managed to ignite.
After eating supper, Scott