Out of His League Read online

  What did he think of the Hope football program? he’d been asked. Where did he learn to play like that? Was he a Christian?

  “Austin!” One journalist was waving his hand in the air. “What’s the name of that running play?”

  “Eh?”

  Coach McCulloch spoke up. “We call it ‘The Line Formation.’”

  “Is that with a capital T?” asked the journalist.

  “Yes,” the coach said.

  “Who came up with the move?”

  “Austin and I worked it out together. It’s what you call international cooperation.”

  The reporters laughed.

  Ozzie raised his eyebrows. Coach had added a sweeping blocking formation to the play, but the basic idea was his.

  “Austin, did your father play football?”

  “Nah, but my grandfather was real good. He scored a try for Queensland in 1948.”

  “Queensland. Is that anywhere near Sydney?”

  By the time Malivai and Ozzie were ready, the Hope fans had congregated outside the locker room. They clapped all the players as they stepped out, but they gave The Line Formation boys a hungry cheer.

  “Watch out now. Y’all’s heads have to fit in helmets next week.” Tex grinned at Ozzie, Jose, and Malivai.

  Angela pushed forward and slipped a folded-up piece of paper into Ozzie’s hand. Once he was sitting in the back of Tex’s pickup truck, he pretended to do up his shoelaces so he could read it privately.

  Congratulations! U are so awesome! Can’t wait to C U at Tex’s tonite. Don’t worry about making plans coz I’ve already told Mr. Graham U won’t be coming home till morning. I’ll look after U!

  Luv Ange

  XXXX

  Ozzie felt something move down below and it wasn’t the truck. Then he thought of Jess. “Girls will want you,” she’d said. “Of course I want you to be faithful but that’s gonna be up to you.”

  But what about boys wanting Jess? Some bloke could be hitting on her right now for all Ozzie knew. But then again, she could have had any boy in Yuranigh, and she’d chosen him. “Remember, I’ll be waiting when you get back,” she’d said.

  He scrunched up the note.

  One thing Ozzie learned about Americans that night is that they know how to celebrate a win. When Yuranigh made the Grand Final of the South-West Queensland Cup, it was a big deal for the town. In the semifinal they’d trailed their rival, Calamine, right up to the last minute, when Ozzie scored the winning try. For sure, he’d got his share of free beers and pats on the back afterward, but people didn’t get really excited. They’d nod and shake his hand and the old-timers would say, “You’re Jack Freeman’s blood all right.” A few days later it was mostly back to complaining about the weather and the high tariffs on produce by the Europeans and the Yanks.

  Here, teenage boys ran in front of the players’ pickup trucks with painted chests and bulging eyes, yelling, “YOU GUYS ROCK!” At Tex’s party, girls Ozzie had never seen before hugged him and wouldn’t let go. “I love you, Austin,” cried one.

  Tex unpeeled her and took Ozzie into his bedroom, the only room not jam-packed with people. “It’s fun being a hero, hey bro?”

  “S’pose.”

  Tex popped the top off a beer and handed it to Ozzie, and cracked one open for himself.

  “Why do they get so excited?” asked Ozzie.

  “This is America, man. People love winners.”

  Ozzie took a swig. “I love beer.” He meant it. The first one after a day’s work on the farm was liquid gold. It tasted bitter and sweet and made him forget the future and the past, both of which hung over his shoulders like demons. Drinking too much of it was the one thing his father and grandfather had in common. “How do ya stop it going to ya head?”

  Tex grinned. “Which one, the fame or the beer?”

  “Fame.”

  “I don’t know. Last year we didn’t have that problem.”

  They sat and drank. A poster on the wall listed the ten commandments, but not the Christian ones.

  1. The Earth is our Mother, care for Her.

  2. Honor all your relations.

  3. Open your heart and soul to the Great Spirit.

  4. All life is sacred, treat all beings with respect.

  5. Take from the Earth what is needed and nothing more.

  “Do you know any of those … Aborigines?” asked Tex.

  “My best mate’s one,” said Ozzie.

  Tex took a long swallow. “Not many guys on the team know this, but I’m part Apache.”

  Ozzie looked more closely at Tex. His skin was chocolate brown but you’d expect that living in this climate. What you didn’t expect was an Indian named Tex.

  “My ancestors are warriors,” said Tex. “Dad says I got their blood.”

  “Didn’t know Indians played footy.”

  “You know who was named American athlete of the twentieth century?”

  Ozzie made his best guess. “Michael Jordan?”

  “Jim Thorpe.”

  “Who’s he?”

  “The man won himself two gold medals at the Olympics, then became a pro footballer and a baseball star. He’s from the Sac and Fox tribe, full-blood,” said Tex, pointing to a poster on the other wall.

  The man in the picture looked a bit like Tex, only smaller with eyes that were sadder.

  “I’m going to head out to the reservation next year, check it out, maybe work the casinos,” said Tex.

  “What for?”

  “Just wanna find out my story, you know?”

  They sat for a bit.

  “What happened to him?” asked Ozzie.

  “Who?”

  Ozzie gestured to the man on the wall.

  “They took his gold medals off him because he made a few dollars playing baseball before the Olympics. They let him become an American citizen when he was thirty, and by fifty he was a homeless drunk.” Tex finished his beer and cracked open another. “Some people found out who he was and cleaned him up, gave him a house. But only ’cause he was Jim Thorpe. Only ’cause he was a winner.”

  “Better than nothing. In Australia they’d say it was his own bloody fault.”

  They were quiet again. Ozzie looked back up at the wall.

  6. Do what needs to be done for the good of all.

  7. Give constant thanks to the Great Spirit for each new day.

  8. Follow the rhythms of nature; rise and retire with the sun.

  9. Speak the truth, but only of the good in others.

  10. Enjoy life’s journey, but leave no tracks.

  “I can manage ’em all,” said Tex, following Ozzie’s gaze. “Except number eight. I love to stay up and party.”

  The bedroom door banged open. “I’ve been looking for you all night.” Angela took Ozzie by the arm.

  “Watch out, man. That girl’s got a reputation and it’s not good,” said Tex.

  As they walked off, Ozzie could hear Tex laughing behind him.

  Angela led him to a spot in the backyard. The grass was soft and the desert air was just starting to turn cool.

  “Finally,” she said, “a chance to really get to know you.”

  She pulled out a pack of cigarettes and offered him one. He shook his head.

  “My parents would die if they saw me now,” said Angela. “They’re like real conservative, church leaders and everything. Always saying, ‘Drugs are evil, Angela.’ I’m like, ‘I know, Mom.’” Angela took a drag and laughed the smoke out. She took a long gulp from a glass.

  “What are you drinking?” asked Ozzie.

  “Coke.” She took another sip. “With maybe a tiny bit of rum.”

  Ozzie held out his hand and she passed him the glass. He had a taste. “I’d say there’s a tiny bit of Coke with a lot of rum.”

  She smiled. “Do y’all drink a lot in Australia?”

  “Most people do. I usually only have a few.”

  “Why?”

  “Trying to get real fit.” Ozzie drank s
ome more beer.

  “Football?”

  “Yeah. Not the footy you play over here, though.”

  “Do you want to play in college?”

  “Uni? Nah. I might go to the city and play for a club, else I’ll stay in Yuranigh and be a farmer.”

  Angela tapped the ash off the cigarette. “I can’t wait to go to college. Mom and Dad want me to go to Mance Christian, which is real strict, with no alcohol and curfews and everything, but I’m trying to talk them into letting me go to Peters, which would be so much fun. They have a football team so I could try out for cheerleading and join a sorority and … it’d just be awesome.”

  “Can’t you go to whatever uni … college you want to?”

  “College is real expensive here. I need my parents to pay.”

  Angela put her hand on Ozzie’s arm. “I want to say I’m so happy you came to Hope. You know I’m only the second girl to be both a cheerleader and a Hopette, which is so neat.”

  “Who was the first one?” asked Ozzie.

  A girl glided across the yard toward them. Angela took her hand off Ozzie’s arm. “Speak of the devil,” she said.

  “Hey, you two,” said Unity, sitting down beside them. “Havin’ fun?”

  “Sure,” said Angela.

  “Well, I hate to bring bad news, Angela, but Mom just phoned. She said your parents have been trying to get you on your cell all night.”

  “I turned it off.”

  “They said you have to be home by eleven.”

  Ozzie looked at his watch. It was eleven thirty.

  Angela threw down her empty glass. Luckily it landed on the grass so it didn’t break. “Goddamn it! I’m meant to take Austin home tonight.”

  Unity raised an eyebrow.

  “I mean, back to the Grahams’.”

  “I can do that,” said Unity. “The Grahams are practically my neighbors. You’d better leave—your dad’s freaking out. He said if you’re not home by midnight he’s comin’ to get you.”

  “I hate living in a small town!” Angela took one last draw from her cigarette and crushed it into the ground. She gave Ozzie a long hug. “We’ll do this another time.”

  chapter 22

  Unity opened a beer and passed it to Ozzie.

  “You have it,” said Ozzie.

  “No, I’m done. Got to drive us home.”

  “I can drive. I’ve only had a couple.”

  “You sure?”

  “No worries.”

  “I don’t normally drink beer, but …” Unity arched her neck and drained most of the bottle.

  “Where’s Sam?” asked Ozzie.

  “Not feeling well.”

  “He looked all right at the game.”

  Unity shrugged.

  “He doesn’t like me much, does he?” said Ozzie.

  “I wouldn’t say that.”

  “Come on, I don’t mind. He hates my guts, eh?”

  Unity paused. “I guess he does.”

  “Why?”

  “Tonight he spent most of the game on the bench, watching someone else be the hero.”

  “No one’s a hero in footy. If the team wins it’s all good.”

  “Some people don’t see it that way.”

  “Do you?”

  “Do I what?”

  Ozzie looked at her. “Do you have to be the best?”

  Unity brushed back her thick hair. “I’d like to say I don’t care. But I guess I do.”

  Ozzie lay back on the grass. The moon was hiding for the moment and the stars shone like fireflies. There was no Southern Cross but the sky looked almost the same as it did from the other side of the world.

  “You were great out there tonight,” said Unity.

  “I didn’t know what I was doin’. Got lucky.”

  “It didn’t look like it. You’re so calm. I’d be scared to death.”

  “I feel the same watchin’ you. You did the splits and my groin started hurtin’. ”

  She smiled. “Surprised you noticed. Aren’t you supposed to be concentrating on the game?”

  Ozzie looked at the moon, which was now giving him a quarter-smile. “Can’t concentrate all night.”

  There was a pause. “I know Sam gets scared,” said Unity. “He just doesn’t admit it.”

  “I get scared, too. I’m just good at not thinking about it.”

  Unity lay back beside him. “Tell me about Australia.”

  “It’s a lot like here. Just different.”

  “How?”

  “Well …” He thought for a second. “Lots of little things. Like, we don’t wear pads to play footy, for one thing.”

  “Do y’all tackle?”

  Ozzie smiled. “Sure do.”

  “Then how can you not wear pads? Don’t y’all get hurt?”

  “Sometimes. But we don’t really worry about it.”

  “Why not?”

  “Dunno. S’pose there’s a lot of stuff that can hurt you in Australia.”

  “Like what?”

  “Snakes, for one thing. Greenies are all right, but black and brown ones, they can kill ya.”

  “I hate snakes.”

  It was quiet, until Ozzie slithered a finger across Unity’s belly. “Ssss,” he said.

  “Aahhh!” She punched his shoulder. “Don’t do that!”

  “Come on,” said Ozzie, getting up. “I can’t wait to drive on the right side of the road.”

  “You always drive on the wrong side?”

  “Very funny.”

  Ozzie opened the front left door. In Australia it would have been the passenger’s door, but here it was the driver’s side. “This should be interesting,” he said.

  “You have your license, don’t you?” asked Unity.

  “Been driving since I was six.” He started the VW convertible and threw it into reverse. The gears crunched. He’d actually put it into fourth. “Sorry.”

  He tried again and this time it worked. Changing gears with his right hand felt weird, like the time he broke his wrist and had to do everything, such as cleaning his teeth and wiping his backside, with the wrong hand. He crunched the gears again and winced.

  Unity put some music on—country. Something about drought, drinking, and divorce.

  “I love this music,” said Ozzie.

  “Me, too.”

  “It makes you happy to be alive.” He tried not to smile but couldn’t help it.

  “Now who’s the funny one?” she said.

  Ozzie gave the car some more juice and it responded. “Is this your mum’s car?”

  “My sixteenth birthday present.”

  He shook his head. “Hell. I think I got a kick up the arse for my sixteenth.”

  “I’m an only child so my parents spoil me. You have brothers and sisters?”

  “None that I know of.”

  Unity looked at him. “Is that a joke?”

  “Nah. Mom died when I was eight and Dad left. Haven’t spoken to him, so he could have a few kids by now, for all I know.”

  “I can’t imagine …”

  A pause.

  “Why’d your dad leave?”

  Ozzie didn’t answer.

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

  “No, it’s all right,” he said. “It’s just that, I don’t really know. He didn’t want to be a farmer so he and Mum opened this café in town. Dad cooked and Mum ran the business side of things. It was doing okay, too, till Mum died. Dad tried to keep it going but … You have KFC over here?”

  Unity smiled. “If we drove north we’d be in Kentucky tomorrow.”

  Ozzie smiled, too. “Yeah, stupid question. Anyway, KFC opened up in Yuranigh and everyone started going there. Cheap food and quick; it was the place to hang out. Still is, for the kids and that. Dad blamed KFC when his place went downhill, but he was drinking a fair bit and didn’t know much about the books, so who can say for sure?”

  “Did he meet someone?”

  “Nah, just took off. Left a note and sa
id he’d ring once he got himself set up. I was nine then. Still hasn’t rung, the bastard.”

  Unity rested her hand on Ozzie’s leg. “I’m sorry.”

  “Nah. It was years ago. I’m doing all right. Pop took me in and got me playing footy and here I am.”

  “Here you are.”

  Except for the country music, they drove in silence.

  “Next left,” said Unity. “I want to show you something.”

  It was a dirt road and Ozzie resisted the temptation to do donuts. She stopped him in the middle of nowhere.

  “You don’t have an ax in the boot, do ya?” said Ozzie.

  Unity laughed. “How would an ax fit in someone’s shoe?”

  Ozzie laughed, too. “Not your shoe, in the back of the car. The boot.”

  “It’s called the trunk.”

  “A trunk is an elephant’s nose.”

  They got out. Unity opened the trunk.

  “What are you doing?” asked Ozzie.

  “Getting an ax from the boot.”

  Instead, she held up a beer and a vodka cruiser. “We gotta drink these before I get home.”

  “Don’t tell me, your parents would kill you if they found them.”

  “No, they’d kill you after I told them you put them there.”

  Unity led him to a ladder and they climbed and climbed. At the top of the water tower they opened their drinks and looked down over West Texas. Trucks and cars made a dotted white snake along the interstate. The lights of Denham, though farther away, shone more brightly than the lights of Hope. Past that was the blackness of the desert.

  “I love it up here.” Unity lay back and looked at the sky.

  “Yeah. It sure is purdy,” said Ozzie.

  “Look who’s picking up the lingo?”

  “Too right.”

  “Two what?”

  “Don’t worry.”

  Unity rolled on her side and took a drink. Ozzie could feel her eyes on him.

  “Tell me about your hometown,” said Unity.

  “Nothin’ to tell.”

  “You’re not getting out of it that easy. One story, that’s all I ask for.”

  “Okay.” Ozzie thought for a bit. “I can’t think of any.”

  “Come on. What’s something your town’s famous for?”

  Ozzie thought again. He took a drink for courage. He wasn’t a natural storyteller, but his grandfather had told this one so many times that he almost knew it by heart. “Okay, here goes. There’re plenty of big properties where I live. Pop’s place is two thousand acres and that’s small, tiny, compared to some.”