The Abstinence Teacher. Tom Perrotta

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СКАЧАТЬ it. The momentum had taken a worrisome turn in the latter part of the second half. Now it was the Comets who dominated, mounting one offensive assault after another, getting off numerous solid shots on goal—including a penalty kick that ricocheted off the post—without managing to score. The Stars seemed intimidated, as if they'd given up trying to win and had decided that the best they could hope for was to run out the clock and escape with a tie.

      “Come on, ladies!” Frank bellowed from down the sideline—Ruth had moved away from him in the second half, unable to cope with his enthusiasm—his voice so ragged with emotion that Ruth felt ashamed for both of them. It was simply beyond belief that she'd spent two hours with a man like that, let alone twelve years of her life. “Let's get some backbone!”

      Smelling blood, but clearly frustrated at their inability to score, the Comets launched a furious last-ditch onslaught, bringing their two defenders way up past midfield to increase the pressure on the beleaguered Stars, who couldn't seem to clear the ball from out in front of their net no matter how hard they tried.

      “Oh Jesus,” Arlene groaned. “This is not good.”

      One of the Comets—a lanky girl with boyishly cropped blond hair—had an open shot that went wide. A few seconds later, the same girl dropped a beautiful corner kick right in front of the Stars’ goal, but Louisa reacted quickly, snatching it up on one bounce. Without a second's hesitation, she charged forward and whizzed the ball down-field, toward the right sideline. At first it seemed to Ruth that she was throwing wildly, just trying to get the ball as far away as possible, but suddenly it became clear that it was a planned maneuver, because Maggie was already far upfield, moving at full tilt, as if she'd known where the ball was going to land before it had left Louisa's hand, long before the Comets even sensed the danger.

      Maggie took control of the ball near midfield, with nothing but grass between her and the goal. It looked to Ruth like one of those scenarios from a wish-fulfillment dream—one player way out front, everyone else stampeding behind, unable to catch up. When it became clear that help would arrive too late, the Comets’ goalie began moving away from the net, hoping to force a bad shot. Maggie just kept charging forward as if the goalie weren't even there, and it looked to Ruth for a second like another collision was inevitable.

      “Shoot!” Frank was shouting. “Bang it in!”

      But Maggie didn't shoot. With the goalie closing in on her at full speed, she kicked the ball sideways instead of straight ahead, a maneuver that made no sense to Ruth until she noticed that Candace Roper had also outrun the Comets’ pursuit and was pulling up even with Maggie just in time to receive the unexpected pass.

      Candace had a little trouble getting control of the ball, giving the goalie time to whirl and make a panicky sprint back to the net, but it was too late. By the time she got there, Candace's shot—a weak dribbler that would have been an easy save under other circumstances—had already trickled across the goal line.

      IT WASN'T true, as certain people insisted in the weeks that followed, that Ruth had gone to Shackamackan Park that morning looking to cause trouble. In fact, trouble was the furthest thing from her mind as the ref blew the whistle to end the game, giving the Stars a hard-fought 3-2 victory.

      “We did it!” Arlene cried, hugging Ruth and jumping up and down at the same time. “I can't believe we did it!”

      “What a game,” Ruth said. “The girls just didn't give up.”

      She was surprised at how exhilarated she felt—proud of Maggie, mainly, but also mysteriously validated as a parent—and these good feelings even spilled over onto Frank as he approached with a cockeyed grin on his face. He looked wired, the way he used to get when he stayed up all night writing a term paper.

      “Can you believe your daughter?” he asked. “Is she amazing or what?”

      Ruth was about to launch into her own rhapsody of agreement, but she checked herself when she saw that Eliza had wandered over from the picnic table to join them.

      “You missed quite a game,” Frank informed her.

      She shrugged. “How'd Maggie do?”

      “Good,” Ruth said. “They won.”

      Eliza nodded, and Ruth could see the struggle it took for her to produce even a halfhearted smile.

      “Cool,” she said.

      Ruth's heart went out to her. Eliza was going through a rough patch. The divorce had shaken her, the newspaper stories about her mother had mortified her, and puberty had knocked her for a loop. In three years, she'd gone from being an adorable little girl to being a chunky, strangely proportioned adolescent with greasy hair—it didn't matter how often she washed it—a perpetual squint, and a mouth that hung open in a look of constant bewilderment. Her grades were mediocre, and her best friend had dumped her for a more glamorous crowd.

      “She did good?” Frank asked. “Are you kidding me? She kicked ass out there.”

      Eliza's only reaction was to tug her upper lip over her lower one, a strange habit she had developed in the past few months.

      “Can we go now?” she asked her father. “I'm starving.”

      “We didn't really have time for breakfast this morning,” Frank explained. “I promised the girls I'd take them to the diner after the game.” He hesitated, glancing first at Eliza, then at Ruth. “You can come with us if you want.”

      Ruth was tempted—she would have liked to talk about the game with Maggie, and see what she could do to cheer Eliza up—but she and Frank had agreed to have as few “family” outings as possible, to avoid misleading the girls about the possibility of their getting back together.

      “No thanks,” she said. “I gotta go. I'm just gonna say good-bye to Maggie.”

      She kissed Eliza on the cheek, then headed across the field just as the Comets launched into their obligatory postgame cheer.

      “Two, four, six, eight, who do we appreciate? Stonewood Heights, Stonewood Heights, yaaay …”

      The Stars hadn't done their cheer yet; they were sitting cross-legged in a circle on the grass, holding hands, looking unexpectedly solemn as they listened to whatever it was Tim Mason and John Roper were telling them. The coaches were part of the group, and that just made it cuter—the two grown men holding hands with the complete lack of self-consciousness they'd displayed while dancing at halftime—until Ruth suddenly realized what they were doing, at which point it wasn't cute at all.

      “Excuse me,” she called, quickening her pace. “Just a minute!”

      Several girls turned at the sound of her voice, including Maggie. Ruth caught the warning look in her daughter's eyes, the silent plea for her to just please keep out of this, but she didn't slow down.

      Tim Mason ignored her approach. He kept his eyes on the ground and spoke in a low voice.

      “… and all the blessings He has bestowed upon us. Our parents, our families, all the material—”

      “Hello?” Ruth interrupted. “You can't do this.”

      The coach stopped talking and looked up.

      “This is ridiculous,” Ruth continued. “These aren't your children.”

      The СКАЧАТЬ