Mrs. Murphy, Pewter, and Tucker, on the gym side of the field, watched closely, too.
“Tucker, stay on the center line on this side. You know what to do?”
“Yes,” Tucker answered forcefully.
“Pewter, you hang out by the north goal. There’s a maple tree about twenty yards back from the goal. If you get up in there, you can see what’s going on. If anything worries you, holler.”
“You-all won’t be able to hear me because of the crowd noise.”
“Well”—Mrs. Murphy thought a minute—“about all you can do is run down the tree. We’ll keep glancing in your direction.”
“Why can’t we stay on the edges of the field?” Tucker said.
“The referees will chase us off. Mom will put us in the truck. We’ve got to work with what we have.”
“That field is a lot of territory to cover,” Pewter, not the fastest cat in the world, noted.
“We’ll do what we can. I’ll stay under the St. Elizabeth’s bench. If I get shooedawayfrom there, I’ll head down to the south goal. We clear?”
“Yes,” they both said.
“Why can’t Coop shoot if Jody or Irene goes nuts?”
“She can, but let’s hope she doesn’t need to do that.” Murphy exhaled from her delicate nostrils. “Good luck.”
The three animals fanned out to their places. Mrs. Murphy ducked feet and the squeals of the players who saw her. She scrunched up under the players’ bench, listening intently.
The first quarter provided no fireworks but showed off each team’s defensive skills. Jody blocked an onrushing Chatham Hall player but got knocked sideways in the process. She leapt up, ready to sock the girl, but Karen yelled at her, “Stay in your zone, Miller.”
“Up yours,” Jody shot back, but she obeyed.
The first half passed, back and forth but no real excitement.
Pewter wished she were under the bench because the wind was picking up. Her perch was getting colder and colder.
The second half opened with Brooks stealing a Chatham Hall pass and running like mad toward the goal where, at the last minute, now covered, she fired off a pinpoint pass to Karen Jensen, who blazed her shot past the goalie. A roar went up from the St. Elizabeth’s bleachers.
Susan jumped up and down. Irene, too, was screaming. Even Sandy Brashiers, not especially interested in athletics, was caught up in the moment.
The big girl whom Jody had blocked took advantage of the run back to the center to tell Jody just what she thought of her. “Asshole.”
“It’s not my fault you’re fat and slow,” Jody needled her.
“Very funny. There’s a lot of game left. You’d better watch out.”
“Yeah, sure.” Jody ignored her.
Chatham Hall grabbed the ball out of the knockin. The big player, a midfielder, took the pass and barreled straight at Jody, who stepped out of the way, pretended to be hit, rolled, and flicked her stick out to catch the girl on the back of the leg.
Harry blew the whistle and called the foul.
Jody glared at Harry, and as Chatham Hall moved downfield, she brushed by Harry, close enough to make Harry step back and close enough for Harry to say, “Jody, you’re the killer.”
A hard shot on goal was saved by the St. Elizabeth’s goalie. Another roar erupted on the sidelines. But the game became tougher, faster, and rougher. By the end of the third quarter both sides, drenched in sweat, settled in for a last quarter of attrition.
Whether by design or under the leadership of the big Chatham Hall midfielder, their team kept taking the ball down Jody’s side. Jody, in excellent condition and built for running, couldn’t be worn down, but they picked at her. Each time she’d lose her temper, they’d get the ball by her.
Finally Coach Hallvard took her off the field, substituting a talented but green sophomore, Biff Carstairs.
Jody paced in front of the bench, imploring Renee Hallvard, “Put me back in. Come on. Biff can’t handle it.”
True enough. As they flew down the right side of the field, Biff stayed with them, but she hadn’t been in a game this good, this fast, or this physically punishing.
Chatham Hall scored on that series of plays, which made Jody scream at the top of her lungs. Finally, Hallvard, fearing another quick score, put Jody back in. The St. Elizabeth’s side cheered anew.
Fair murmured in a low voice as the crowd cheered, “Irene, give yourself up. We all know it wasn’t Kendrick.”
She whirled around. “How dare you!”
A pair of hands behind her dropped to her shoulders so she couldn’t move. The plainclothesman ordered, “Stay very still.” He removed one hand and slipped it inside his coat to retrieve a badge.
“I didn’t kill those people.” Irene’s anger ebbed.
“Okay, just sit tight,” the plainclothesman said quietly.
Perhaps Jody felt an extra surge of adrenaline. Whatever, she could do no wrong. She checked her woman, she stole the ball, she cracked the ball right up to her forwards. She felt invincible. She really could do no wrong. With Jody playing all out at midfield and Karen and Brooks lethal up front, St. Elizabeth’s crushed Chatham Hall in the last quarter. The final score was four to two. The crowd ran off the bleachers and spilled onto the field. Mrs. Murphy streaked down the sidelines to escape the feet. Pewter climbed down from the tree, relieved that nothing dangerous had happened. The animals rendezvoused at the far sideline at center with Tucker.
“I thought she’d whack at Mom with her stick. I thought we rattled her enough.” Pewter was dejected that Jody had proved so self-possessed.
“Oh, well.” Tucker sat down.
Mrs. Murphy scanned the wild celebration. Harry and Lily slowly walked off the field. Jody watched out of the corner of her eye even as she jumped all over her teammates.
“Nice to work with you.” Lily shook Harry’s hand. “You did a good job.”
“Thanks. Aren’t you going back to change?”
“No, I’d better get on the road.” Lily headed toward the parking lot behind the gym.
As Harry entered the gym, Jody drifted away from the group. There was nothing unusual in a player heading back to the gym.
Cynthia, caught in the crowd, fought to get through the bodies when she saw Jody leave.
The three animals raced across the grass, little tufts of it floating up in the wind as it flew off their claws. They reached the door just as Harry opened it.
“Hi, guys.” She was tired.
Within a minute Jody, stick in hand, was also in the gym. As Harry turned right down the hall toward the faculty changing room, Jody, on tiptoes now, moved down the hall, carefully listening for another footfall. Without speaking to one another, the animals ducked in doorways. Only Murphy stayed with Harry in case Tucker and Pewter failed.
Jody passed Pewter, who ran out and grabbed the back of her leg with her front claws. Jody howled, whirled around, and slapped at the cat, who let go just as Tucker emerged from the janitor’s door. She ran hard at Jody, jumped up, and smashed into her knees. Dog and human collapsed in a heap, and the hockey stick clattered on the shiny floor.
“Goddammit!” Jody reached for her stick as Tucker grabbed the end of it.
They tugged from opposite ends. Tucker slid along the floor, but she wouldn’t let go. Jody kicked at the dog, then twisted the stick to force her jaws loose. It didn’t work. Pewter jumped on Jody’s leg again as Harry, hearing the scramble, opened the locker room door and came back into the hall. Mrs. Murphy stuck with Harry.
“Good work,” the tiger encouraged her pals.
Jody, seeing Harry, dropped her hockey stick, lunging for Harry’s throat.
Harry raised her forearm to protect herself. She stumbled back against the concrete wall of the gym, which gave her support. She lifted up her knee, catching Jody in the crotch. It slowed Jody, but not enough. Pewter, still hanging on to Jody’s right leg, was joined by Murphy on the left. They sank their fangs in as deep as they’d