Susan Pfeffer - Shade of the Moon

Jon could see that playing so close to the burned-down high school bothered Luke. He told himself not to think about it. The high school was a remnant of a different time. The students still went to school, just in a different building. Back in Pennsylvania after the bad times had begun, they’d closed schools and no one cared.

Even in the locker room, Jon could hear the clavers getting off the buses and being seated. Close to a thousand of them coming to watch their team slaughter the grubs. An equal number of grubs witnessing the slaughter.

Eventually one of the guards knocked on their door and told them to come out for the “Star-Spangled Banner.” Jon looked around as he walked onto the field. He was used to playing games almost every week, but they usually played on an empty field somewhere, and at most a hundred of the town’s grubs showed up to watch.

This was completely different. Even with the scores of guards, it was still overwhelming to see hundreds of grubs waiting for the clavers to lose.

But then they started singing the national anthem, and everything felt right. Sure, the clavers were clavers and the grubs were grubs, but it was the Fourth of July and they were all Americans.

It was a hot seventy-five degrees, and if you squinted, you could see the sun. There was soccer to be played, a game to be won.

What Jon hadn’t expected, what none of them had expected, was that the White Birch players would be good. None of the grubber teams they’d played had known what they were doing. The grubs only scored because the clavers let them. Jon and his teammates could easily win 20–0.

But the White Birch grubs played hard, never quitting, never gasping for air. The grubs had defenders. The clavers had never needed defenders, and all the players regarded themselves as forwards. Now they had to block passes shot by players who understood the game, and watch helplessly as their own passes were blocked. Jon had several of his passes taken from him, and he was outrun more than once.

To make matters worse, the grubs had a goalie who knew how to field. Jon was accustomed to scoring easily, the grubber goalies terrified at the speed and power of his kick. But this goalie blocked the kicks and saw to it that his teammates got the ball back.

The grubs in the stands were going wild, screaming and pounding against the bleacher floors. The clavers tried to show their enthusiasm, but they’d expected a rout, and Jon could sense they were starting to worry.

Coach was screaming on the sidelines, and the referee gave as many calls as he could to the clavers. Even so, at halftime, the score was 1–1.

The thing was, Jon loved it. Winning every week against a bunch of losers wasn’t fun. It was a job, whether Sarah understood that or not.

But this was great. Win or lose, this was what sports were about. Soccer would never replace baseball in Jon’s heart, but this time he understood what was fun about soccer, why even in a world of fear, hunger, and loss, this game alone had survived.

He didn’t even mind listening to Coach in the locker room. He especially enjoyed hearing Coach scream at Tyler.

None of the other guys were enjoying themselves. Maybe he could because he was a slip. Sure he wanted to win. He’d come in determined to show the White Birch grubs what pathetic losers they were. He understood that there was danger if the grubs stopped fearing them. The clavers had to win, especially this game so close to home.

But this time they’d have to earn that win. The clavers had every advantage, but they were being outplayed by a bunch of loser grubs. Only they weren’t losers. There was nothing loser about them.

With two minutes left, Jon was starting to wish the grubs would remember what losers they were. The score was tied 3–3, and both teams were exhausted. Even Coach had wearied of screaming. The fans in the seats were quieter, waiting for the decisive goal to be scored.

Luke kicked the ball to Jon. He could see a clear path to the goal. The White Birch goalie, who’d played a heroic match, was weakening. This was the chance Jon had been waiting for.

But before he had a chance to strike the ball, one of the grubber forwards collapsed on the field. For a moment they all stood still. Then the grubs ran over to check on their forward. No one thought to call a timeout.

“Kick the ball!” Coach yelled. “Score!”

Jon stood still. Tyler ran over and kicked the ball in for the score.

“He’s dead!” one of the grubs shouted.

The White Birch coach ran onto the Sexton side of the field and began pummeling Coach. The next thing Jon knew, he was being attacked by two of the White Birch players.

Soon all the players were fighting. Jon felt sorry for the guy who’d died, but it was exhilarating to be swinging, hitting, pounding his fists against flesh and bone.

The guards started swarming the field. Shots rang out. Jon thought the guards were shooting in the air, to calm the crowd, until he saw one of the grub players fall to the ground. Then the barrier between the field and the grandstands collapsed, and clavers and grubs stampeded the playing field.

The screams grew louder and the gunshots more frequent. Jon tried to locate Lisa and Gabe, only to feel a hard punch to his stomach. He collapsed onto the field, the air knocked out of him, then heard a bullet and saw the grub who’d attacked him falling down. Jon managed to squirm away just in time to keep the grub from dying on top of him.

Guns were going off everywhere. Clavers who’d brought their guns with them for protection were shooting wildly. Jon ran, searching for Lisa and Gabe. It was Gabe he saw first. A man had hold of him and was lifting him up.

Jon couldn’t be certain if it was a grub who planned on harming Gabe or a claver trying to protect him. At that moment it didn’t matter. He climbed over the fallen barricade, pushing against crazed and frantic people, and reached the man.

He hadn’t played soccer for nothing. Jon placed a hard kick on the man’s shin, and while the man was hopping from pain and surprise, he kneed him in the groin.

The man dropped Gabe. Jon grabbed the boy, placing him on his shoulders. Gabe was screaming for his mother, and Jon managed to spot her.

“Follow me!” he yelled to Lisa. He held on to Gabe’s legs as tightly as he could and shoved his way through the hysterical crowd. At first he stepped around bodies, in case they were still alive, but after a couple of minutes he gave up caring. Gabe was the important thing, not some dead grub. Or some dead claver.

He tripped once, but Gabe was holding on to his hair, and Jon was able to keep him from falling off. It took a couple of terrifying minutes before Jon saw an exit sign, and he walked as swiftly as he could, carrying Gabe outside to safety.

Jon watched as people ran from the stadium, but he wasn’t going anywhere until Lisa joined them. Gabe hadn’t stopped crying, but he saw Lisa first, and began calling, “Mommy, Mommy,” until Lisa found them.

“Let’s get to the buses,” Jon said.

Lisa nodded.

The farther they walked from the stadium, the safer Jon felt. A guard spotted them and escorted them to the parking lot.

Jon knew Lisa and Gabe would be taken home by any of the bus drivers, but still he was relieved when he spotted Alex. He raced to Alex’s bus, with Lisa running by his side.

“I’ll take him,” Alex said, lifting Gabe off Jon’s shoulders. “Get in, Lisa. The bus is full. We’ll be leaving right away.”

“Take them home,” Jon said. “Lisa can show you where.”

“Don’t worry about them,” Alex said. “Just make sure Laura’s okay.”

“She’s home,” Jon said. “She isn’t here.”

“Come on, you stinking grub!” a man shouted from the bus. “Get us out of here!”