The Cowboy Who Strolled Into Town (87 page)

Chapter 2

“What happened yesterday?!” Molly asked over her cup of coffee

Josh chewed on his toast, pretending not to hear, and continued sulking into his cup of orange juice.

“Hey do not bring that attitude into the house, you hear me?” Molly scolded as menacingly as she could, which was not menacingly at all.

“Yes dad-no wait, he is not around is he? Sorry Mom, I confused you with someone.” The boy retorted petulantly.

“Oh come on Josh, we have been over this before, haven’t we?”

“I am fifteen, Mom!” Josh shot back through the toast in his mouth. Molly could see he was being ill mannered on purpose, “the tale of my dad being a great, war hero who died in the field of battle does not work for kids older than ten. Now the next kid who mouths off about your having gone off on a one week hiatus with a stranger is gonna get it from me good; I don’t care how big or bad he is, but I want you to know that they are talking Mom, and it would make things a lot easier for me if I could go to school armed with a lot more than a bedtime story!”

Molly’s face flushed red, even as she abandoned her coffee and made her way round the table to his side. His knuckles showed white as she tried to extricate his hands from where they gripped the table. He would not cry, she had not seen him cry since he had learned the art of talking and asking for whatever he wanted. However, she knew he was hurt, and desperately wanted to tell him the truth, but she felt that would only make things worse. Or she was too ashamed to reveal the whole sordid affair to her son.

“Oh Joshua Keegan, you are trying to grow up too fast.” She said, groping in her mind for something that would pacify him, “You handle being fifteen, and leave the rest for now. As for those kids who keep taunting you, I think I’ll have a word with the school-“

“So I’m a snitch now?!” He asked horrified, “Jeez Mom!”

“Aww come now be nice, I am trying here, so be nice.” Molly defended herself blushing even further. How could she have forgotten that all important teenage rule? “Come on, finish up your breakfast; it’s almost time for the driver to pick you up for school. Is that your ninth piece of toast?”

It was his tenth, but he did not answer. He stuck the last one into his lunch box, and hurried out of the expansive dining room, through the adjoining sitting room, and out the door to the awaiting limousine.

Molly watched his retreating back with some relief. That conversation had been getting dicey, and the ‘you are about to be late’ card was the only one she had had left. The boy was going to have to learn the truth someday, she knew but how to break it to him bothered her. He was like every other boy in that he idolized his father-a man, he, nor his mother for that matter, knew anything about. She ached at the prospect of having to tell him her father was anything but noble having run off without so much as a backward glance.

She sipped her coffee, and made her way to the bedroom to prepare for her day, taking the cup with her.

Josh stood out on the side lines of the mini soccer pitch in his school. He hated Fridays. Fridays were sport days. Fridays were the days he was reminded adequately that he was not the most popular kid in school.

“Hey Keegan, you can’t stand on the side lines forever,” The school coach, William Turner, called from his left.

The air blew warm over the green turf, but it was still morning, and he shielded his eyes from the rising sun as he turned towards his coach, “No I’m okay here coach.”

“That is not an option, now get in and complete the team. We need five players for each squad. This is five-a-side football.”

Josh groaned irritably, “Do I have to? They won’t pick me.”

Coach Turner blew his whistle and signaled for everyone to gather at the center. There were twenty boys in total, and they separated themselves into four squads. As could be expected, friends had banded together into squads, and Josh found himself in the squad made up entirely of misfits-he included.

“Alright listen up you misfits. The rules today are simple. We got one pitch; we got ninety minutes before the period is over. The first two teams are allotted fifteen minutes; one goal conceded is enough to get you eliminated before that time runs out. If neither side scores then we have a penalty shootout to see who makes way. Got it?”

The chorus answer hid the abject lack of enthusiasm that pervaded Josh’s team. The group drew lots, and Josh was grateful his team was the third, designated C team. The remaining five boys drifted into their respective teams, and over to the side lines to watch A and B teams go against each other.

Both teams were made up of mainly sport buffs, all of whom were in their element on any sport field. Several skills were on display as both teams tried to score within the given time frame. Josh had never witnessed five-a-side soccer up close before. It was seldom played at the school, and he usually kept out of the way during sports not paying attention to proceedings on the pitch, no matter the sport, but now that he watched this game, he begrudgingly admitted that he was enjoying it. He enjoyed the skills and the movement. It filled him with joy being part of a team even though it was a team made of people nobody wanted to side with. It also filled him with dread, what if he messed up and embarrassed himself before everybody? He knew next to nothing about soccer. He suspected the same about the motley crew gathered around him on the side lines.

Josh cheered with the others at the goal that finally came in the dying minutes of the encounter. Team A had snatched a hard fought victory and Josh, palms sweaty, gulped as he realized that Team C was up next.

Josh quickly opted for goal, because he felt that it was the position that was most out of the way, and given the small size of five-a-side goals, he thought goalkeeping would be well within his reach. Coach Tucker blew his whistle to start the encounter. As should have been expected, Team c was left standing, and ball watching while Team A ran circles around them. Josh heart sank to the pit of his stomach as he saw one of the opponents shove the ball through the legs of his team mates, sending him to the floor. The audience on the side lines went up in raptures at the move which is known in footballing language as a nutmeg.

Josh was now totally exposed, a very skillful player was in his area and his misfit team mates were joining to watch the spectacle. He followed his instincts, and charged out of the goal, hoping to fall on the legs of the opposing player. To his credit, it was a good idea, and he went about it in the right manner, going low immediately as he came out hoping to close the player down. He went in hoping for the best, hoping he did not make a fool of himself. The opposing player, a big boy, already playing with the school team had other ideas. He stopped in his tracks, rolled the ball in with the top of his foot and lobbed it in a high arch over the advancing keeper.

It was a masterful move; the crowd went up in raptures as Josh strained his neck as he looked helplessly up at the ball travelling an arc across the bright sky.

No way, he thought fiercely. He bounded up off the floor in a back flip towards the still floating ball. He was not used to goalkeeping gloves and fumbled the ball while he was
upside down
in the air!
He did enough however, and deflected the ball to bounce upon the top post and over the goal.

The boy who had kicked the ball stood scratching his head at what he had just witnessed while the others went into raptures. Josh who had somehow managed to land on his four limbs was not sure if he had done well or not.

The match quickly resumed. Great players inspire their teammates, and Josh’s save had done just that. His teammates were galvanized, and gave their all. They actually managed to get a shot off at the opposing goal, but ultimately Team A came knocking again, and again, and again. Time after time Josh made spectacular save after spectacular save. There was no getting past him that warm, windy morning. He hashed a good number of saves but he would in the end always come up with an acrobatic stunt that defied the normal and save his team.

Penalty shootouts ensued, and Team C could not shoot straight to save their lives, but eventually won because nothing could get past their goalkeeper. Team A limped off in a daze, not able to believe what had just happened. The next four rounds all went through penalties, Josh was on fire!

“What on earth was that out there Keegan?! I have never seen goalkeeping of the caliber even at the World Cup! That was amazing!” Coach Keegan spoke above the din that was heading to the wash rooms, “Boy you skip better than a frog on steroids!”

The others concurred this. It had been a freak experience, and nothing on earth could erase the huge grin on Josh’s face, “I don’t know coach, late development maybe.”  He answered trying to be modest.

“Yeah whatever it was, I want to see it today after school-at team practice. You get to put that talent to good use today.”

“You mean I am on the team?!”

“I mean you get to try out”

“One good game and he gets to join us on the team?!For all we know this could really be beginner’s luck.” One of the bigger boys who had been on Team A, piped from behind.

“Or maybe you guys need to learn to shoot better” Josh spat over his shoulder, “I am coming whether you like it or not!”

“Yeah I bet I bet your family knows a lot about shooting and com-“

Josh did not let him finish, he swung his fist blindly in an arc, aiming in the general direction behind him. He was blinded by rage, he felt, rather than saw, his fist collide once. The was a rush of air around him, as well as surprised gasps, the red heat in his head was gone as quickly as it had come, his hands were shivering fists as he opened his eyes, to find Coach Tucker on the floor five meters away from where he had been standing previously. A further distance away, lay the boy he had been aiming for. Both lay unconscious on the soft green turf, under the warm morning sunshine.

Josh could not understand what had just happened, his face grew red, and his eyes watered as some of the boys went to help those on the floor. None dared approach him, their terrified, incredulous faces only served to aggravate him more.

He turned towards the far side of the pitch, to where an extremely huge dog that had come out of nowhere was insistently barking. Where had it come from? Why was the Coach on the floor? Were they okay? All these questions raced through his mind as he rushed for the showers alone; the insistent barking of the dog, the only sound in the world.

An hour later, dressed in the formal school wear, consisting of a deep blue jacket, over an immaculate white shirt, and red tie, which was the uniform of the upper class school he went too, Josh sat tentatively outside the principal’s office. He was in the hallway, and kept his eyes down. He had been pulled out of class for this impromptu meeting, and he hoped desperately that the principal would call him in before the next period would be ushered in. There had been enough attention for one day, and he did not want to be seen waiting in front of the principal’s office when the other students filled the hallway as they rushed to their next classes. His heart sank, as he looked at the time piece on his left wrist. This was going to be part of his punishment; he was willing to bet his life on it. This realization did not make his cheeks any less red when the bell went off, filling the hallway with students. If he had kept his eyes down before, now he kept them even lower. A trip to the principal’s office was as bad as it got for the prissy school he attended. What was worse was that he could hear them whispering as they passed him by. His ears were suddenly hypersensitive. He could hear even their whispers. It was an avalanche of sound; he could not shut it out, no matter how hard he tried. He could feel the rage fill him up again. He cried out in agony. He held his palms against his ears to shut out the noise. He had fallen from the chair and slipped to his knees. He shut his eyes to stem the flow of tears that he could feel forcing its way to the surface.

Is he okay? 

I knew that boy was crazy; always fighting.

Did he really knock out Big Jim and the Coach with one punch? Maybe he is some sort of freak, like a freak of nature or something

You better watch what you say about him. Why is he cringing on the floor like that? Does he need help?

These were whispers but the writhing boy heard them as if they came from amplifiers set on maximum. He cried out again in agony, his face, by then, red and sweaty. A few students overcame their fear, and came to his side, while some others went to call for the school nurse.

Josh got up all of a sudden and dashed for the double doors at the far end of the hallway that led outside. The fresh air seemed to be what he needed; a few seconds down the pavement away from the school, and he was feeling right as rain. It was as if nothing had happened. However, something had, and he made up his mind to continue on to his home rather than head back to the school.

His bag pack, containing his phone, and everything else was still back at the school. His stomach growled with hunger as he realized he had left his lunch as well. He headed for the nearest bus stop. He could get a free ride in his uniform.

There was no bus stop around where Josh lived. Those who lived there did not use the bus. It was far more common see a Lamborghini, or Rolls Royce rolling by. Josh got off at the nearest bus stop and hobbled away in the general direction of his upper class neighborhood. The gates to the mansion opened automatically, and he nodded a greeting at the cameras to those who manned the gates. The sun was really high in the sky at this point of the day, and the walk along the long driveway was a bit arduous on an empty stomach.