Golden Game by David Starr

Author:David Starr
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lorimer
Published: 2017-08-16T16:00:00+00:00

***

“We’ll be there in thirty minutes,” said Coach T as he took a seat beside Abbas. “How are you doing?”

“I’m trying not to think about it.”

“Then let’s talk about soccer. Did you see the Whitecaps game last week?”

Soccer was a good topic. That was, after all, why Abbas was going to Toronto. They were still talking about the game when the bus got close to the airport. The sound of a large jet engine came from overhead. Abbas winced. Sweat formed on his head.

Breathe, breathe, you can do this, Abbas said to himself, fighting his nerves.

“We’ll be at the gate in one minute,” the bus driver. “Good luck in Toronto.”

The bus stopped outside the domestic terminal. The Eagles followed their Coach inside to the counter where they were met by an airline agent.

“Grandview Eagles,” said a young woman with a big smile. “We’ve been expecting you.”

“You have their tickets and IDs, Coach?”

“Of course,” Coach T replied. He took the cards and passports out of his briefcase, along with a stack of printed tickets.

One by one the boys took their IDs and tickets from Coach T and showed them to the WestJet agent. “Good luck, boys,” she said and smiled again when the last of them had been checked in. “I hope you do really well. Have you flown to Toronto before?”

“I’ve never flown anywhere before!” said Michael.

Michael was the only one. All the other boys had been on a plane before. But most of them hadn’t flown since arriving in Canada and only a handful could remember the trip.

“Well then I hope your first flight is one you will never forget.”

I hope this flight is one I forget about quickly, Abbas thought. He patted his jacket pocket, making sure the iPod was there. He would need all of the meditations to make it through, he was certain of it.

The boys joined the line of people snaking its way toward the security check.

“You’ve got this, Abbas,” said Claude. “Are you working on those strategies you talked about the other night?”

Abbas clenched then unclenched his fist. “I’m trying to,” he said, “believe me.”

It was Abbas’s turn to go through security. He took off his jacket, put his backpack on the conveyor belt and walked through the metal detector.

“This airport is like a museum!” said Mo, looking around. Vancouver International was a beautiful airport, full of First Nations totem poles, carvings and murals.

“Here we are, boys,” said Coach T as they got to the waiting area. “Gate Forty-three. There’s our plane.”

It took Abbas everything he had to look out the window. There it was, the long white plane with blue and green lettering on its side.

Breathe. You can do this, Abbas said to himself again.

The plane didn’t seem frightening sitting on the ground. It looked like a long tube with wings and a tail. But still it was a plane. Images of the marketplace long ago in Syria started to creep into Abbas’s mind.

He turned away from the window, put his headphones on and started a meditation.

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