Chapter 3

 

            “Your turn, Prophet!” Stevens yelled, “Let’s see what the off-season did to you.” Josh was slightly winded from his match. He was not in his normal in-season shape, but he was still good. Many wrestlers would be glad to be in the shape Josh was today.

            “Not as bad as you!” I said, pulling off my track pants. We didn’t bother with wearing singlets for summer camps like this, but I’d rather wear shorts to wrestle in than my normal warm-up pants. I threw those to one of the underclassmen and walked over to where Coach was standing.

            “Alright son, this is more than likely gonna’ be an easy match. This team is from Ohio; they’re a pretty good D-3 school. This kid placed seventh last year. He’s nothing though—might be as tough as Shaw was freshman year. I’m really expecting a pin, okay?”

            “I got ya’ Coach.” I said, extending my hand.

            Coach took my hand and shook it, and gave me a quick smack across the face. This ritual was something that had been done at Smote for ages—it was that one last thing to give us a boost of adrenaline. It was the time that I stepped back from reality; the time I went into the “zone” as some call it. After states my freshman year, it was all over the internet about the “kid from Smote that ‘flows like water’.” I was considered one of the most fluid wrestlers in the nation. I don’t know how I did it…I just did it.

            I walked to the middle of the mat, nodded towards the ref, and stepped onto the starting line…

 

            Isaiah Campbell shook his opponents hand and shot in directly off the whistle. He lifted his opponent into the air and put him onto his back in a picture perfect leg Turk. But, even with his leg and upper body holding the kid down, Campbell’s opponent managed to scramble out of bounds. The ref brought them back to the middle and Campbell started out on top. He let his opponent go and tied up with him. Isaiah was surprised when the kid shot in with a real quick double-leg and drove him down onto his butt.

            “What the...? Damn, that was fast!” Josh Dexter said from the sidelines.

            “Campbell! He’s going to the out—never mind.” Stevens said.

            Campbell’s opponent shifted his grasp to a single-leg, keeping his head on the inside of Isaiah’s thigh. Bad move.

            “Should’ve scored the open takedown.” Coach Smitt said, “See that guys, always go for the points you know you can get. That kid would already have two, but now…”

            Isaiah grabbed the near leg of the kid, who was more excited about the fact he had almost taken down Isaiah Campbell than he was about the fact he was about to get pinned. Isaiah sucked this leg up into his chest, sitting up into his foe and hooking his other leg with his own. He rocked this back into a spladle and, for show-boating purposes only, put his elbow on the mat and leaned his head onto his hand. The ref got down into position and looked for the pin…

 

            The ref slapped the mat and I let the kid go, standing up and straightening out my shirt. I shook the kid’s hand, and walked over to his coach.

            “You did real good, son. Real good.” The Buckeye coach said.

            “Yessir. Thank you. Your kid has got one hell of a double leg!” I answered back.

            “Yep. Problem is he never finishes it.”

            “That’s too bad,” I said. “Double leg like that should almost always score some takedown points, if not backs.”

            “You really think so?” The coach asked, astonished at my approval of his wrestler’s takedown.

            I dropped the man’s hand and walked over to our side of the mat. The kid stuck his hand out on my way by, but I just looked at him and rolled my eyes. I hated being a good wrestler at times like this: A lot of kids like that are happy to be “sacrifices” to the “gods” of wrestling.

            I sat down next to Stevens and looked at him.

            “He took you down.” He said matter-of-factly.

            “No…he tried to.” I said quizzically, wondering what Josh’s combativeness was about.

            “Whatever…it was close enough.” With that, Stevens got up and walked away from where we sat. I looked at Ashley and Amanda, who had been talking to him before hand. They both shrugged and shook their heads.

            I looked around, and noticed Stevens was heading completely out of the building. Something was wrong: Josh never, ever, walked out in the middle of a duel meet, be it at summer camp or not. That’s when, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Coach Brushfield and the rest of the Michigan coaching staff looking at a notebook and discussing something. I tried to read their lips, and then one of them looked over and pointed at me, saying “Him?” All of the sudden, everything clicked.

            Stevens would’ve only agreed to come to Michigan if he thought I had a chance too. He must have told Brushfield to check me out during camp. That was why he was so dejected when I almost got taken down by a D3 Ohio all-stater.

            “Coach!” I shouted, “I’ve gotta’ go talk with Stevens!”

            “Alright, whatever.” Coach Smitt said, waving me off. He was into the match at hand, and would have given up his house at that point.

            I ran after Josh, yelling back at Megan to grab my gear. I caught up with Josh standing outside the door to the athletic center where we wrestled. He stood against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, looking out over the pond located across the parking lot.

            “Josh, look, I didn’t think Brush—”

            “So, you figured it out, huh? Of course he would’ve been watching you! D****t Campbell, you’re going to beat Stoker this year! Everyone’s saying it! Stoker doesn’t figure you’ll even try to beat him. He just assumes he’ll win!!” Josh still leaned on the wall, not even looking to yell in my direction.

            “Stevens…you’ve got your shot. What do you care whether or not I beat Stoker?” I asked, grabbing his shoulder and forcing him to face me. “I’m not meant to be big-time D1 college! It’s not my life. But it’s yours! So take it!” I pushed him away and turned around.

            “What do I care?” Stevens said, this time turning me around to face him, “You’re my brother, like it or not. What happened to both of us going to the same college?!?”

            “That ended when you signed with Michigan before the season even started! We both said we’d start talking to colleges after Christmas, after the Wyandotte Tournament, to see if I beat Stoker or not! Or don’t you remember that?”

            “Isaiah, I had to take that shot. I signed my letter and everything. I only had enough time to call my mom and let her know. They…they offered me a starting spot. They don’t want me to red-shirt.”

            “What? That’s great!” I said, hiding my anger behind the elation.

            “No…it’s not.” Josh turned back around and looked out over the pond again. “I may not be in the condition to wrestle by then.”

            “What in the world are you talking about?” I asked

            “Isaiah…before I came to camp, I went to the hospital to get a physical done, just like every year…but this time, something was wrong.”

            Terror ripped through my heart. “Josh…what is it?” I asked, putting my hand on his shoulder.

            “I’ve…they said…” Tears began to well up in Josh’s eyes, “I’ve got a tumor on my lungs…both of them. They say they can’t know for sure, but they think it’s cancerous. But no matter what, Michigan may not want me later in the year if this affects me in anyway. At least if I’m signed on now, they’ll at least keep me and red-shirt me, hoping I get better.”

            I was shocked. I couldn’t say anything. I stood there, jaw dropped, looking at Josh Stevens, my best friend in the world. How could this picture of health have cancer? He was a man-child, aged before his years, both in mat experience and strength.

            “So…I hate to say it…”

            “Yes, I can still wrestle, Prophet.” Josh’s tears had been replaced by the same goofy grin he carried most of the time. “Geez, is that all you ever worry about? C’mon, there’s more to life than wrestling…c’mon, let’s go back inside.”

            Josh walked back into the athletic center, but I didn’t follow him. I leaned back against the wall and looked up into the sky.

            “Where are you now God? Huh? Why did you have to give the best wrestler in the nation cancer? You know he can’t make it through college without a wrestling scholarship! So where is your ‘master plan’ at now? Or is this the same plan you were following the night you killed my parents, but left a six year old kid alive? Huh? WHERE ARE YOU NOW, GOD?!?” I screamed into the sky.