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  Copyright

  Copyright © 1994 by Matt Christopher Royalties, Inc.

  All rights reserved.

  Little, Brown and Company

  Hachette Book Group

  237 Park Avenue

  New York, NY 10017

  Visit our website at www.HachetteBookGroup.com

  www.twitter.com/littlebrown

  First eBook Edition: December 2009

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Matt Christopher® is a registered trademark of Matt Christopher Royalties, Inc.

  ISBN: 978-0-316-09453-5

  Contents

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  THE #1 SPORTS SERIES FOR KIDS: MATT CHRISTOPHER®

  Matt Christopher®

  To

  C. Christopher, Kimberly, and

  Samantha Jo

  1

  It’s going, going …”

  “It looks like it’s in there …”

  “Goal!”

  Dana Bellamy could almost see the imaginary soccer ball sailing across the goal line and into the net. He turned to his friends Steve Rapids and Ben-ton Crawford, and grinned.

  The three friends raised their fists in victory — even though it wasn’t a real one.

  As they walked home together, they relived the winning goal that Steve, the center forward for the Anchors, had put by the opposing goalie during soccer practice.

  “Boy, I wish that had been a real game,” said Dana. The twelve-year-old right wing for the Anchors slapped his teammate on the back. “Great kick, Steve,” he said.

  Benton echoed Dana’s praise. “Way to go,” he said. “Gotta make a few like that when we play tomorrow.”

  “Ol’ Steve here’s going to lead us on to victory,” said Dana. “How’s it feel to be captain?”

  “No one’s ever going to replace Shins Sullivan,” said Steve. The longtime Anchors captain had recently moved out of state. After practice that afternoon, following Steve’s spectacular goal, the team had elected him to the leadership spot.

  “Yeah, but you’re the best player on the team,” said Dana.

  “Not the strongest, though,” Benton added, darting between the others as he dribbled an invisible soccer ball down the street. He stopped a few yards in front of them as a fit of coughing overtook him.

  “Course not,” said Steve, thumping Benton on the back. “Everyone knows Abe Strom’s the team gorilla. And you’re our power halfback!”

  “Yeah, but I think Abe thought that he should be the new captain,” said Benton, still coughing slightly as he hiked up his schoolbooks under his arm.

  “You’re right, Bent,” said Dana. “I think he was a little disappointed.”

  “What the heck,” said Benton. “He’ll get over it.”

  “Maybe I ought to talk to him,” said Steve. “For the good of the team. I mean, we have to put that ahead of everything.”

  “Better believe it,” said Dana.

  They had reached the corner of the street where Dana and Benton lived.

  Dana nodded in the direction of his house. “You guys want to come in? We can see if there’s a game on the sports channel.”

  “No, thanks,” said Steve. “I promised my dad I’d clean up some junk in the garage. I better get that done.”

  “What about you, Bent? Want to see if there are any of my mom’s killer brownies left?”

  “Nah, I have to get home, too,” said Benton. “My folks are going to a wedding.”

  “Tonight?” asked Dana.

  “Yup,” Benton answered. “Mom said something about a sunset ceremony, so I’d better get a move on. Besides, I want to hole up in my secret hiding place and finish reading that new dinosaur book.”

  “Well, see you guys tomorrow,” said Steve.

  “See you,” called Benton and Dana as they started to jog down their street together. It was too short a distance for a real race, but by mutual agreement, they always put on some speed as they passed the fireplug fifty yards away from the Crawfords’ driveway.

  Benton waved back at Dana as he swung into the driveway and went in the back door of his house.

  Dana was lying on the floor listening to the stereo. But something was wrong with the CD, because the same note was repeating over and over. It kept blaring and blaring and blaring.

  Dana woke up suddenly. It wasn’t music — it was a fire alarm!

  The house is on fire! Dana thought wildly. But as he sat up in bed, he realized the sound was coming from outside the house. Besides, he thought, that’s not the sound our smoke detectors make.

  A strange bright light shone in through his bedroom window. He jumped out of bed and looked outside.

  “Holy cow!” he gasped. Orange and yellow flames were streaming out of the windows of the Crawford house. Thick black smoke poured out around them. “The Crawfords’ house is on fire!”

  Dana grabbed his jacket and threw it on over his pajamas. He raced downstairs and almost crashed into his parents outside the front door. His little sister, Christy, was right behind him.

  “What’s happening?” he asked.

  “Your father smelled the smoke and woke up,” said Mrs. Bellamy. “He rang the alarm on the pole across the street.”

  “Have you seen Benton and Letitia?” Dana asked in a panic. “They’re all by themselves in there!”

  “What?” cried Mr. Bellamy. “Bill Crawford’s car isn’t in the driveway. I thought they were all away somewhere this evening.”

  “Mr. and Mrs. Crawford went to a wedding,” Dana blurted out.

  “And didn’t ask us to keep an eye on the kids? Oh, my goodness,” Mrs. Bellamy cried. “Those children really might be in there, then. I’m calling 911 and telling them to send an ambulance right away.” She dashed off to make the call.

  Mr. Bellamy had already stepped inside and grabbed his gardening boots from the closet. He shoved his bare feet inside them and threw on a heavy jacket.

  “What are you doing, Dad?” Dana asked.

  “I have to see if those kids are in there,” Mr. Bellamy called back as he ran over to the burning house. “There’s a chance I can still get them out safely.”

  “But, Dad —,” Dana called after him. He wanted to go with him, to help. But he knew he should stay out of the way and keep an eye on Christy.

  By this time, people from other houses in the neighborhood had heard the alarm, too, and had gathered nearby.

  Mrs. Bellamy, clutching the cordless telephone, had come back outside.

  “Where’s your father?” she asked.

  “He’s gone to find Benton and Letitia.”

  “Where?”

  “Inside the house,” said Dana, tugging at her bathrobe sleeve. He pulled her along with him across their driveway toward the burning building.

  Far off in the distance, Dana could hear the sound of fire engines. Why can’t they hurry and get here faster? he thought.

  The smell of smoke was getting stronger outside the Crawford house. The flames licked higher and higher.

  “I can’t believe he’s in there.” Mrs. Bellamy’s voice was thick with anxiety. “Are you sure he went inside?”

  “I saw him. He went right in,” said Dana. He stared at the front of the Crawford house. Suddenly he saw a movement. “W
ait a minute! He’s coming out! Dad!”

  “He’s carrying someone!” cried Mrs. Bellamy.

  Sure enough, Mr. Bellamy came through the front door with a huddled form in his arms. Several people in the crowd rushed forward to help relieve him of his burden. Dana looked over and saw Benton Crawford sprawled out on the ground. He was coughing and sputtering, but he looked unharmed.

  Dana rushed over to see if he could do anything to help his friend.

  Mrs. Bellamy ran toward her husband. But before she could reach him, he rushed back into the house.

  “What’s he going back in there for?” someone in the crowd yelled out.

  “He’s crazy! It’s an inferno!” someone else shouted.

  “Letitia!” cried Mrs. Bellamy. “He’s gone back for Letitia!”

  Seconds turned into minutes that seemed like hours as the house continued to burn. There was no sign of any movement at all. The flames continued to blaze away.

  With their sirens wailing, several fire trucks came speeding around the corner and pulled up in front of the Crawford house. A few fire fighters grabbed the hose and ran down to connect it to the hydrant.

  Dana was so busy watching the fire fighters, he almost didn’t notice when the little girl came running out of the house.

  “Mom! Look!” he cried.

  It was Letitia, all by herself.

  Mrs. Bellamy caught the little girl.

  “Letitia! Where’s Mr. Bellamy? What happened?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” said Letitia, sobbing. “He was carrying me and … and then he dropped me. I fell. And then I just ran toward the front door!”

  One of the firemen must have heard what she said, because he called back to the others, “There’s still someone in there! Let’s go!”

  The hose was turned on. A squad of fire fighters wearing protective masks and suits grabbed their equipment. They forced their way through the smoke belching out the windows and door and entered the house.

  Dana could feel the heat from the fire on his face. Then, through the noise of the crowd and the sound of the fire’s destruction, he heard a shout.

  “We’ve got him!”

  He clutched his mother’s arm and held his breath. Would his dad be all right? Would he be alive?

  Two firemen stumbled out the front door. They gently laid Mr. Bellamy’s limp form on the ground. Mrs. Bellamy, Dana, and Christy rushed toward him. Dana heard another siren coming closer and closer.

  “That’s an ambulance,” said one of the firemen. “How’d they get here so fast?”

  “I dialed 911 when I heard the children were trapped inside,” said Mrs. Bellamy. She held Mr. Bellamy’s hand and leaned down over him.

  His eyes were shut, but he was breathing. Every now and then, he coughed violently.

  “Better move back and let the EMTs take over,” said the fire chief.

  “Dad!” shouted Dana. “Are you okay?”

  “What happened? Why isn’t he speaking?” asked Mrs. Bellamy.

  “We found him under a heap of rubble,” said one of the firemen. “Don’t know what fell on him or how much damage it did.”

  “But he’s alive,” said another fireman. “And lucky at that.”

  The ambulance pulled up next to the fire trucks. Three EMTs jumped out and went right to work. They eased a stretcher under Mr. Bellamy and lifted him into the back of the ambulance.

  Mrs. Bellamy climbed in after him.

  “I’m going with them,” she said. “Dana, you stay here and look after your sister.”

  “We’ll take care of them,” said one of their neighbors. “Don’t worry.”

  Don’t worry? As the ambulance sped off into the night, Dana knew that worrying was exactly what he would be doing — worrying and wondering if his father would come through.

  2

  The Hammerville Herald

  Good Samaritan Hospitalized

  Man Stricken Saving Neighbors’

  Two Children in House Fire

  HAMMERVILLE: Hayden Bellamy, 41, of 2012 Lotus Street, suffered severe smoke inhalation while rescuing his neighbors’ two children from a near-fatal fire that began at approximately ten o’clock last night.

  Martin and Grace Crawford were attending a friend’s wedding reception when the fire, which started from an undetermined source, began. It was already raging beyond control when Bellamy, alerted by the smell of smoke, arrived at the scene.

  He rushed in and rescued the boy, whose bedroom is closest to the front of the house. While in the process of rescuing the girl, he was struck from behind by a piece of debris and fell, knocking his head against a door casing. But the girl could see the open doorway ahead and managed to run for her life from the house.

  Fire fighters on the scene were able to remove Bellamy from the burning building. After they had applied cardiopulmonary resuscitation, Bellamy was rushed to Hammerville General Hospital, where he is listed in serious condition.

  No matter how many times he read the newspaper article, Dana could scarcely believe that the fire had happened.

  Mr. Bellamy was in the intensive care ward of the hospital. There was a tube stuck into his arm to give him food and nourishment. Another tube went up his nose and down his throat. But he was gaining strength. All the doctors and nurses said his chances of recovering were good. Everyone just had to be patient, they said.

  “I’m telling you, Dana,” said Mrs. Bellamy, putting on her coat. “There’s nothing you can do at the hospital. And you know they only let you see him for a few minutes at a time.”

  Dana shook his head. “I still don’t know if I should play in today’s game.”

  “There’s absolutely no reason not to,” Mrs. Bellamy insisted. “This is the first nice day since that awful hot spell. Two horrible, steamy weeks of it! Thank goodness for fans and air conditioners. Now, have some fun, Dana. Let’s get in the car. Come on, Christy — you, too.”

  Dana’s ten-year-old sister hopped into the backseat of the station wagon.

  “I’ll give Dad a big hug for you,” said Christy. “And after the game, you can tell him how many goals you made.”

  All season long, Dana had been one of the top scorers for the Hammerville Anchors, right behind Steve Rapids. But he had skipped the last game, which was right after the fire. This would be his first day back in action.

  And the Anchors really needed him. With the season well under way, they were trailing the Cottoneers in the league standings by two games. A win today would mean a big boost in the Anchors’ morale.

  Mrs. Bellamy shifted into reverse and backed out of the driveway. Dana saw her glance at the charred remains of the Crawford house.

  As she started down the road, Dana noticed Andrea McGowan across the street. The fifteen-year-old redheaded girl was sitting on the top step of her front porch. She held a video camera to her right eye. It was aimed at a large oak tree near the corner of her front yard.

  What’s so interesting about an oak tree? Dana wondered.

  “Oh, look!” Christy exclaimed. “Andrea’s making a movie of that squirrel nibbling on an acorn! Isn’t that cute!”

  Dana grinned. “Yeah,” he said. “Real cute.”

  At that moment, Andrea lowered the camera and waved at the passing car. Andrea was a real video nut. Her favorite way of spending time was making a videotape of just about anything.

  Well, almost anything. Dana had once asked her if she’d like to videotape one of his soccer games.

  “What?” she’d asked, wrinkling her nose. “Two hours of watching a bunch of kids kicking a ball back and forth? Forget it. Not enough excitement, not enough action.”

  The car turned the corner, and Andrea’s red hair became a dim spark in the distance.

  After weaving through the downtown area, Mrs. Bellamy pulled into the parking lot next to the soccer field.

  Dana unbuckled his seat belt and jumped out of the car.

  “See you after the game,” said his mother. “Have
fun — and good luck.”

  “Yeah — good luck,” echoed Christy.

  “Thanks a bunch,” said Dana, giving them the thumbs-up sign.

  The car took off, and Dana trotted over to a group of boys warming up near the south goal area. Like them, he wore the Anchors’ navy blue uniform with the red trim around the edges and his number in white on the front and back. Dana had chosen number twelve since he’d just celebrated his twelfth birthday.

  The Cottoneers were at the opposite side of the field. Clothed in their yellow uniforms with the green trim, the opposition ran back and forth across the field, keeping a half dozen soccer balls in motion. Coming off a three-game winning streak, they were the favorite — even in enemy territory.

  The Anchors’ coach, Russ Kingsley, seemed ready for them. Throughout the season, he’d taught the team that a strong offense and a heads-up defense were the keys to winning. He positioned his team in a 3-3-4 lineup. Dana, Steve, and Abe Strom made up the front line, with Dana to Steve’s right and Abe at the left wing position. At midfield Coach Kingsley placed Jack Nguyen in the center, flanked by Lance Dixon on his left and Benton on his right. The back-field went from left to right: Tucker Fromm, Paul Crayton, Pete Morris, then Mike Vass. Jazz McCord held down the goalie slot on the team.

  The first member of the team to notice Dana’s arrival was the new captain of the Anchors.

  “Hey, Dana,” said Steve. “Glad you could make it.”

  “Yeah, we were just asking about you,” said Jazz. “Weren’t sure you’d want to play.” He kicked a practice ball over toward Dana.

  “How’s your dad?” asked Pete, nudging the ball away from him.

  “Okay. He’s doing okay,” Dana answered.

  Jack dribbled a ball in Dana’s direction, then faked it away from him. He called back as he edged toward the goal area, “I was sorry to hear he got burned.”

  “It was mostly smoke inhalation,” said Dana. “His lungs are in bad shape, but he’s coming along. He’s getting better.”

  The ball was booted back and forth, stolen, passed, trapped, and kicked, over and over, as the Anchors shook out the kinks and got ready for the game. During the warm-up, most of the guys managed to say a word or two to Dana about his dad.