Here is a free sample of Silence on the Turf for your reading pleasure!
Chapter 1
Christina’s intent face was pasted to the car window as she looked for signs directing them to the proper field, or any of her schoolmates who had already arrived. Her long black hair shone in the sun. Margie was used to dealing with traffic and high-pressure situations, but she did not like the bumper-to-bumper traffic around the athletic park, with everyone trying to get to the parking lot closest to the game they wanted to watch, and then circulating looking for empty parking spaces, all while teens and families weaved in and out, stepping in front of cars without even a glance in their direction, carrying bags of gear, chairs, and food. It was crazy.
Margie wanted to get out of her car and start directing people like in her old patrol days. Order the pedestrians to stick to the sidewalks and the crosswalks instead of wandering all over the roads. Direct cars to the parking lots they were looking for and ensure they parked in legitimate spaces rather than making their own at the ends of aisles, on grassy verges, beside fire hydrants, or parked along the road where there were clear No Stopping and No Parking signs.
But she had no idea where she was supposed to go, so there was no point in trying to direct anyone else to their destinations. She wished that there were someone out there to point them in the right direction with a smile of assurance.
“Over there, Mom,” Christina yelped, waving her hand to get Margie’s attention and pointing, but Margie couldn’t tell which way she was supposed to go.
“Where? Which way?”
“Right—no left—” Christina was, as far as Margie could tell, pointing directly ahead. “Don’t you see the sign, right there—”
Unfortunately, Christina seemed to have inherited Margie’s confusion over directions and talent for getting turned around, even when the signs were right there in front of them.
“To the right, Detective Pat,” Tracy offered in a calm, firm voice, and even though he was in the back seat, he pointed to the turn. Glancing in the mirror, Margie followed his directions, making the turn into another parking lot that looked like every other parking lot she had passed so far.
“Is this it?” Margie asked anxiously. It was getting close to game time, and although she knew they didn’t have to be there right when it started, she still didn’t want to have to walk in front of anyone or disrupt their enjoyment of the game. It wasn’t like going to a play or musical performance, where if they weren’t seated by the opening curtain, they would have to wait around until the intermission to get in. But it was still rude.
Christina was nodding. “Yes, I told you,” she said impatiently.
They were bouncing off of each other, irritated by the traffic, pedestrians, confusion, and slow progress. Tracy was the only one who seemed to be calm and relaxed. Margie was grateful for his quiet reliability. He was a good kid. She was glad that Christina had made friends with him after their move to Calgary. As the child of Chinese immigrants, Tracy had been responsible for translating for his parents and helping them access services or get around Calgary from a young age, so he was responsible and mature beyond his years.
He was also unfailingly polite to Margie, always respectful and never disagreeing with her suggestions, even if they might involve chores or studying that Christina wasn’t keen to do.
“There’s a space!” Christina pointed to a space that Margie wouldn’t even try to fit the car into. “That one, over there!” Someone else pulled into the space before Margie could get there.
“Down the end of this aisle, there are a few,” Tracy suggested. Margie followed his directions, and there were still two empty spaces by the time she got to the end of the row. She pulled into one of them.
“Okay, do you guys want to scout out a place to sit while I follow with the bags?” Margie suggested, popping the trunk.
“You don’t need to carry everything,” Tracy told her. “That’s our job. You’re doing enough getting us here.”
While the kids often navigated the city via transit, they hadn’t wanted to take two hours to get across the city and to have to lug everything with them on the bus. For once, Margie had been able to get away from work in good time to act the part of the mom taxi.
If it didn’t take so long to get across town, Margie would just drop them off and return in a few hours when the game was over, but with the travel time back and forth, she would only have, at most, an hour to herself at home. It was better if she could just relax with some snacks and watch the soccer game or read a book. She had promised Christina that they didn’t have to sit together, and she would not yell like a crazy person at the game and embarrass her. Margie didn’t think she would get that much into the game, since Christina wasn’t participating, nor was anyone else Margie knew. She wasn’t that competitive.
Tracy and Christina grabbed the posters, snacks, and whatever else they had packed for the game. Tracy closed the trunk and nodded at her. “That’s it. You only need to bring yourself.”
Margie grabbed her own shoulder bag from the back seat. She had not packed as much as the kids had, but she had made sure that she had enough snacks to get her through the evening, since she had known she wouldn’t have time for dinner, and she had enough reading material to keep her busy if the game was boring.
“You guys go ahead, I’ll find my way.”
Christina looked quite happy to follow Margie’s instructions and separate, but Tracy shook his head. “We’ll all go together,” he said. “That way, we won’t have to find each other when it is over. And I can help you find the car.”
Margie’s cheeks warmed. Tracy said it matter-of-factly, not teasingly like the other detectives she worked with. Margie’s lack of direction was legendary and a constant source of embarrassment for her. People expected Indigenous individuals to have a good sense of direction, be able to track animals and hunt without getting lost, and always make it back home. A Métis woman with Cree and French explorer ancestors, Margie should have gotten a double dose of good navigation skills. But maybe rather than her European ancestors having excellent exploring and mapping skills, they had simply gotten lost and never been able to find their way back home.
Margie shook her head and trailed after the two teens, appreciating Tracy’s casual offer to help her find her way back to the car. Normally, he would have been the one driving Christina to the game, but he had lent his car to his older sister, whose vehicle was currently in the shop. She needed to be able to get around the city without relying on the transit system, and Tracy was able to get back and forth to school on the bus, so he offered it to her until hers could be fixed.
That was the kind of guy he was. Margie couldn’t have asked for a better friend for Christina. And maybe Christina’s “just a friend who is a boy” was starting to become “more than just a friend.” While Margie had a hard time accepting that Christina was as old as she was and would be stretching her wings and becoming even more independent in the coming years, Tracy was definitely good for her. If Christina had to grow up, have a boyfriend, and move out, Margie hoped she would be with someone as thoughtful, smart, and supportive as Tracy.
When they arrived at the field and scouted out seats, Margie again offered to give them their space so that Christina wouldn’t be embarrassed by her. But Christina shrugged. “You might as well just sit with us. We’re not meeting up with a bunch of other friends here.” She looked at Tracy for approval, and he nodded.
“Are you sure?” Margie pressed. “You want to be seen sitting with your mother?”
“I don’t care. It’s okay.”
They found several seats together and set up for their epic game-day experience, which included unfurling their signs and banners, getting out snacks, placing cushions on their seats, and readying blankets for when the sun set and the air started to cool. Margie had not prepared for anything beyond sitting and watching and maybe reading her book.
They were all set up and ready to go when the game began. The Forest Lawn team was in red and black, and the opposition in green and yellow. At least Margie would know which team to cheer for.
“Who did you come to watch?” Margie asked.
“Sharon McGinn. She’s over there,” Christina pointed, “Number ten.”
“And she’s good?”
“Really good. She has scouts coming to watch her play. She’s going to get offers from a few universities,” Christina predicted. “Full-ride scholarships, I’ll bet.”
“Wow, she must be really good.”
“She’s the one to watch,” Christina agreed. “Keep your eye on her.”
Chapter 2
Margie didn’t watch a lot of sports, but the high school soccer game kept her engaged. Christina was right about Sharon McGinn. She seemed to be in the middle of every play, no matter which end of the field they were in. Her ball-handling skills were remarkable; it seemed like the ball must be magnetically attracted to her feet. Margie had played a little soccer in junior high, but she and the girls that she had played with had been mostly awkward, gawky girls, skinny with knobby knees and little experience in handling the ball. Just figuring it out. Margie had been happy if she could get the ball away from an opposing player or aim it in the general direction of the net. There had been a couple of girls who had been higher level, the players who would be on the high school soccer team when they got older, but most of the kids Margie played with were just kicking the ball around, with no real idea about strategy or the skills they needed to develop.
The high school teams they were watching might not be professional grade, but they looked pretty close to Margie. The girls had filled out, past the awkward, straight-as-a-stick stage, their lean bodies muscular.
Number ten, Sharon McGinn, was on her way down the field with the ball, several strides ahead of anyone else. Margie wished she could see better. Opposing players started to close in, and at the last possible second, McGinn kicked the ball, passing cleanly to another player, number fourteen, who continued down the field, approaching the goal.
Players on both teams were closing in, the defense trying to get the ball back and the offense getting out ahead, hoping to be in the right position to receive a pass from the girl with the ball. One of the green and yellow uniformed players slid in front of number fourteen with a foot extended to steal the ball from her. Their feet collided. Number fourteen was falling, and so was the opponent who had tackled her. Margie could see other players getting caught in the melee.
Margie jumped to her feet for a better view. She saw fourteen go down, head colliding with the tackler’s knee and bouncing back. There was a tangle of bodies, an uproar from the crowd, and Christina, too, was on her feet, shouting about the tackle and calling for the refs to do something even as they were blowing their whistles to stop the play and sort out the players and any injuries.
“Is she okay?” Margie asked, craning for a better angle as officials from each team were called in and the players untangled. “Do you know who number fourteen is?”
“Camilla Royce,” Christina informed her, looking down at the program in her hand. “I know her. We did a science project together last year.”
They watched anxiously as the situation was sorted out, with the girls from each team being checked by their coach, athletic trainer, and an EMT from an ambulance standing by on the field.
“She got hit hard,” Margie observed. “She took a really good knock to the head.”
“I don’t think so,” Christina argued, “I think it was just the angle. She went down because she was tripped.”
“I know, but she hit her head on the other girl’s knee.”
Christina shook her head, but didn’t argue the point. The crowd cheered as Sharon McGinn, number ten, was helped to her feet and pumped her fist in the air. The other team had the ball. Margie saw Camilla Royce shaking her head repeatedly at the coach and the doctor, pushing them back and trying to get to her feet. She would not allow herself to be examined by the EMT, joining her teammates on the field and motioning for the game to resume.
Another cheer went up. Christina breathed a sigh of relief. “She’s okay. Everyone is okay.”
“They need to be careful,” Margie said, shaking her head. “Someone could really get hurt. Do you really think they should all be back on the field? Shouldn’t they sub someone else in until they’re sure that the girls are okay?”
“They would pull them out if there was any reason to,” Christina assured her. “They’re really careful.”
“I’m sure number fourteen got hit in the head. There is a lot of danger with repeated head injuries—”
“They have concussion protocols, Mom. They’re really careful. If the coach or doctor think that there is any danger, they pull them from play.”
“I really think they should pull her.”
“Well, you’re not in charge. And you couldn’t really see what happened from here. It’s up to her coach to decide. They can see what happened better.”
Margie sighed. She couldn’t be everyone’s mom. Christina was right; she wasn’t in charge of the team, and she didn’t have any official capacity there. She was just there with her daughter to watch a game.
I hope you enjoyed this sample of
Silence on the Turf
By P.D. Workman
