Above All Else Read Free

toward our box as Rom rushed him. Tim went head on into the challenge, probably thinking he could rotate around Rom at the last second. But even from where I was, I could see that Rom had no intention of going for the ball. In fact, he wasn’t even looking at it. Rom charged and, as Tim began his rotation, jutted his leg out and caught him square on the knee.
    Tim went down hard, both hands clasping his knee before he hit the ground. Rom hoofed the ball out of play just as Doug reached him.
    Doug ran right into Rom and took him down. He managed to get four quick punches in before his own teammates pulled him off and the ref came in, blowing his whistle and waving red cards.
    â€œThe hell?” Rom said, holding his bloodied nose.
    â€œThat was intentional,” Doug yelled. His teammates were holding him back. “Kick him out.”
    â€œYou’re both gone,” the ref said, holding up two red cards. “One game each.” Someone had brought the ball back to the field. The ref tucked it under his arm as Tim’s teammates helped him off the field. He didn’t seem to be able to walk on his own, and as he passed me, I could see his cheeks were streaked with tears.
    â€œPenalty shot,” the ref said. He dropped the ball, and everyone backed up. I thought Jared or Oz would complain about the penalty shot because Rom and Doug had both received red cards. It didn’t make sense that there would be a penalty shot at all. But even they seemed stunned by what had happened.
    The remaining Rebels striker, a kid named Michael, took the kick, and it was no contest. Penalty shots rarely are. The nets are just so huge. The ref blew the whistle and that was it. The Rebels had won.
    We were going into the playoffs in second place for the first time in three seasons.

chapter four
    After every big game, we go to Romano’s father’s pizza parlor, Angelo’s. It’s not exactly the most desirable restaurant in town, but we eat for free, so no one complains. The walls are covered in photos of famous (Italian) soccer players. There are newspaper articles and photos of our team during the amazing two-year winning spree.
    I was in a booth with Riley, Oz and Romano. Jared came over with a chair turned backward and sat down at the end of the table. The smell of his cologne hovered in the air. He wore this really strong scent under the delusion that it drew women to him.
    â€œSo that was bullshit,” Jared said.
    â€œThe hit?” Oz replied. Oz is a competitive player, but he believes in winning fairly.
    â€œNo, the penalty,” Jared said.
    Oz leaned back in his seat and pointed at Rom. “Rom says he was going for the ball.”
    â€œI was,” Rom said.
    â€œThe first time you were going for the ball. But that next time, you were trying to hurt the guy,” said Oz.
    â€œI wasn’t,” Rom said. “Seriously, I got the ball first. I was just saying that if we had some kind of instant replay, everyone would see.”
    Jared looked at me. “You were right there. Did he get the ball first?”
    â€œI didn’t see,” I lied.
    â€œWhat were you looking at, Del?” Oz said.
    â€œI guess the ball. But there was a defender in my way. I couldn’t see everything that happened.”
    â€œNot that it matters,” Jared interrupted. “What happened happened. Rom was being intense. He understands what above all else means, don’t you, Rom?” Rom nodded, and Jared jammed a pizza crust into his mouth and talked around it. “That Irvine kid goes down too easy. He was hoping for the penalty shot.”
    â€œHe’s a good player,” Riley said. “That’s for sure.”
    â€œYeah, yeah. Everyone’s a good player. But he’s a diver. He goes down four or five times a game. If he was a great player, he’d stay on his feet. Anyone heard if he’s going to be back?” Jared said.
    â€œI don’t