Nothing could distract the Kent brothers like a challenge.
We played every year, and to make it more fair, the game was touch football. Everyone knew if Becks got hold of a soccer ball, there was no contest. The brothers had learned the hard way, and male testosterone was alive and well in the Kent household. They hated to lose, especially to each other.
It was a serious competition.
“I can almost taste a victory,” Clayton said, doing a couple lunges to warm up. “Can you taste it, Sally? That sweet budding taste of V-I-C-T-O-R-Y?”
“Yeah,” I smiled, “tastes good.”
I played to even up the teams, and once everything was settled here was the line-up: Me, Ollie, and Clayton versus Becks, Leo and Thad. I might not have had the upper body strength, but I had the quickness to compete with the boys. Plus, I’d grown up with these particular boys, so I knew their weaknesses.
“We got this,” Ollie said, jogging in place. “We so got this.”
“You got nothing.” Leo smacked Ollie on the shoulder, laughing as he walked past.
“You won’t be smiling when we annihilate you,” Ollie said, glaring at Leo’s back as if he saw a bull’s-eye. They had a bit of sibling rivalry going on, being the two oldest. Leo was bigger, but Ollie had the better throwing arm. They usually focused on each other, so I wouldn’t need to worry too much about Leo. “You ready to get that Troll, Sally?”
My eyes narrowed on the competition. “Heck, yeah.”
The Golden Troll, a prize like no other, coveted, highly sought after, much beloved and a total piece of crap. The thing was butt ugly. The doll sported crazy red eyes, was missing most of its hair, had been spray-painted gold and nailed crooked onto a wooden base to complete the horrific appearance. Looks weren’t important, though. If your team took the Troll, you earned a year’s worth of bragging rights. It was all about the win.
Taking Leo out of the equation, I concentrated on Becks and Thad. Becks was difficult to pin down. He had weaknesses I was sure, but none I could easily spot. I usually tried to stay away from him. He knew I wasn’t made of glass, and I knew he’d take me down if he could. Last year, in the mud, sweat and heat, it hadn’t been pretty.
Thad was the weak link, my number one target. He had a soft spot for girls, all girls, so even if I was running right by him, he hardly made an effort, afraid he’d push too hard and I’d get hurt. Our strategy was simple. Get Thad on our side, effectively knocking him out of the game and taking Becks’s team down to two players.
In the huddle, Ollie laid out the game plan then said, “Everyone understand?”
Clayton and I nodded.
Ollie looked to me. “You ready? This whole thing depends on you, Sally, so you’ve got to be willing to lie, cheat, steal, whatever it takes to get the Troll.”
“Whatever it takes,” I said.
Clayton raised an eyebrow. “Even if it means taking your boyfriend down a notch?”
Before I could say a word, Becks called out from across the yard. “Hey Sal, you want to hurry it up? Team Becks is getting impatient over here, waiting to claim our prize.”
“That Troll is ours,” Clayton shot back.
“Not this year,” Leo said smugly. “Not last year either.”
“That was a fluke,” Ollie retorted. “Nothing but a fluke.”
“Yeah,” I said, “the sun got in my eyes.”
“Sorry Sal—” Becks shook his head. “—but girlfriend or not, your team’s going down. Don’t worry sweetheart, I’ll go easy on you.”
It was the “sweetheart” that did it.
Turning back around, baring my teeth, I said, “He’ll never see it coming. Let’s do this.”
And do it we did. The whole thing went off without a hitch. On the third play, I saw my opening and took it. Ollie had just thrown a perfect spiral, delivering the ball into my arms without the slightest wobble. I’d cradled it to my chest like a newborn babe and made a mad dash for the goal line, but Becks was there to intercept me less than five yards away. He tagged me with two hands to my side, a gentle pat, the lightest of touches, but I made the most of it, throwing my body to the side, taking a nosedive into the grass, groaning pitifully as I fell.
Becks was at my side in an instant, kneeling, checking me for injuries. “Sal?” he said, face stricken. I buried my head further into my shoulder, trying not to laugh. “Sal, are you hurt? I didn’t mean to...I mean, I barely...Sal, say something, you’re scaring me here.”
At that, I looked up, eyes bright. “Aw, don’t be scared Baldwin, I’m alright.” Looking past him, I said, “But you better watch your back. Thad doesn’t look happy.”