Undercover Tailback Read online

  He was very early. The equipment room was closed, and the window in the door to the coach’s office was dark. Coach Isaac wasn’t there yet.

  But the locker room was open. Parker went in, dumped his books in his locker, and got undressed. He put on a gray T-shirt and matching sweatpants. They had a dark green K for Kudzus on them. He tugged a gray hooded sweatshirt on top.

  He started to do a few torso twists and knee bends. Then he heard voices outside the locker room.

  I guess some of the guys are out there, he thought. They’ll probably give me a razzing for getting in trouble with the coach.

  But whose voices are those, anyhow? he wondered. Is that Mitch? Moose? Through the wall, it was hard to tell. It could even have been a bunch of girls heading for gymnastics practice.

  But when he stepped outside the locker room, there was no one in sight. Whoever had been there was gone. Then all of a sudden, someone wearing a gray hooded sweatsuit ducked out of the coach’s office — and quickly bolted around the corner. It happened so fast, he couldn’t tell who it was. But he did notice one odd thing: whoever it was had a small point-and-shoot camera swinging from one hand.

  Parker frowned. Why would someone be in Coach’s office with a camera? Suspicious, Parker took off after the stranger. But it was too late. The corridor led to the back exit from the school. It was already filled with kids milling about on their way home. There was no way to pick out anyone in that crowd.

  He went back toward the coach’s office. The window was still dark, but the door was slightly ajar.

  Parker pushed the door open, and the light from the hallway spilled into the office.

  “Coach? Coach Isaac?” he called softly.

  What did he think he was going to find — a dead body behind the desk? Was that why he was whispering?

  What a dope! he thought.

  There was no body behind the desk. There was nothing unusual at all in the office.

  Coach Isaac was one of those neat types, he noticed. Except for the big loose-leaf Kudzu playbook, his desk was clean and uncluttered.

  The master playbook was so fat with all the plays the coach had used over the years that it was hard to keep it lying flat. The plays were carefully drawn in dark marker, each on a separate page wrapped in a cellophane protector. A green metal paperweight was holding down one side of the open book.

  Parker picked up the paperweight.

  It was an alligator! In fact, it was a lot like a model he’d brought in to show his General Science class when they were studying reptiles.

  I wonder if Coach Isaac is a Gators fan, Parker thought. Hey, when he finds out they’re my favorite team, maybe I’ll score some extra points with him.

  Then he came to his senses. The only way I’m going to score any points, he thought, is by getting my butt out there and doing those laps.

  Parker was about to put the gator back on the open playbook when the overhead light went on. He hadn’t even heard anyone come in.

  “What are you doing here, Parker?” demanded Coach Isaac. “And what are you doing with that?” He pointed at the paperweight, still in Parker’s hand.

  “It was really weird, Coach,” said Parker. “I just saw someone go flying out of here. But the light wasn’t on. So I thought something might be funny. I came in here to check.”

  Coach Isaac shook his head. “You really do have a million stories, don’t you!”

  “Honest, Coach Isaac,” said Parker. “This guy just came tearing out of here a few minutes ago. He was wearing a gray sweatshirt like mine, and he had a little camera.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” said Coach Isaac. “Tell me another. I suppose he was the one who took the master playbook off the shelf and left it opened up on my desk. Of course, you wouldn’t do that, would you?”

  “ ’Course not,” said Parker. “Why should I?”

  “Maybe you wrote your moves down wrong in your own playbook,” the coach suggested, “and decided to take a peek at mine to double-check them. Or maybe you’re going to tell me your book was stolen?”

  “Mine’s in my locker, right now,” insisted Parker. “I could go and get it for you. …”

  “Never mind.” Coach Isaac sighed. “Parker, what are you doing with my paperweight?”

  “I … I found it on top of the playbook,” said Parker. It didn’t seem like the right time to mention his interest in the Gators.

  “Well, that’s not where it was when I left this office, I can tell you that,” stormed the coach. “Now, just put it down and get going. I don’t want to see you in this office again unless I tell you to cross that threshold. Get that?”

  “Yes, Coach,” said Parker. He placed the green gator down on the desk with care.

  “And what about those laps?” the coach asked. “Think I forgot?”

  Parker wasn’t sure, but he thought he caught a small smile at the edges of the coach’s mouth.

  “No, siree!” said Parker. “I’m on my way.”

  He finished his laps just in time to join that afternoon’s practice.

  It didn’t go well for the offense. The defense was too familiar with their plays.

  When the runners started fumbling and passes were getting intercepted regularly, Coach Isaac blew the whistle.

  He gathered the offense over to one side of the field while the defense took a break.

  “I don’t know what’s the matter,” grumbled Spike. “What are we doing wrong?”

  “Not a whole lot,” said Coach Isaac. “You’re running the plays the way I drew them up. But you have to remember, these guys are used to the way we operate.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Fabian.

  “There’s a routine,” said the coach. “They’ve come to expect that you’re going to do certain things the same way every time.”

  “You mean we have to mix it up more?” asked Parker.

  “That’s it,” said the coach.

  “But we only have so many plays,” said Fabian. “We can’t just make up new ones on the spot.”

  “Yeah, we have to stick to our plays,” insisted Cris. “I mean, that’s all we know.”

  “I’m not telling you to abandon the plays I’ve taught you,” explained the coach. “You just have to learn to surprise the opposition. For instance, when was the last time you ran the same play twice in a row?”

  His question was answered by shrugs and vacant stares.

  “Okay, here’s a little trick you ought to learn right now,” he went on. “When you want to repeat a play right away, all you do is call the signal backwards.”

  “Hey, that’s neat!” said Moose. “That’ll confuse ’em.”

  “You can use that when you’re running out of time,” said the coach. “Or you can linger as long as possible in the huddle so that they’ll be watching for some complicated new play.”

  “And then, barn, you hit them with the one you just ran,” said Huey. “Not bad!”

  They lined up for some more practice. The defense was still hitting hard. Spike called a draw play that produced a ten-yard loss with Parker at the bottom of a big pileup.

  “That’s a good play,” Spike announced in the huddle. “We should have picked up some yardage. Let’s go with it again.”

  At the line, he barked out the signals — backward, the way the coach had said.

  As soon as the play began, Parker could tell the defense was unprepared for what was happening.

  This time, as soon as the ball hit his hands, he broke away and carried it into the clear beyond any defenseman’s reach.

  It was his happiest moment of the day.

  That evening, the scene in the coach’s office kept coming back to Parker. He was sure the stranger in the gray sweatshirt had been carrying a camera, but what had he been doing in Coach Isaac’s office with all the lights off? Parker tried to study his math, but he ended up doing more doodling than calculating.

  He couldn’t sit still. Melissa had finished her homework and was looking at a mag
azine.

  Parker sighed and picked up the deck of cards. “Come on, let’s play another game of War.”

  “No, I don’t feel like it,” said Melissa.

  “Want to watch TV?” he asked.

  “There’s nothing on,” she said, staring at the magazine.

  “You still mad?” he said. “About the bike?”

  “No,” she replied.

  “Yes, you are.”

  “No, I’m not!”

  “What are you mad about?” he asked.

  “Nothing, nothing, nothing!” she insisted. “What’s bothering you, anyhow?”

  “Why should I tell you? You’ll just tell me I’m making things up, like everyone else,” he said.

  “I’m your sister, Parker,” she said. “I can tell the difference. Besides …”

  “Besides what?”

  “Besides, if you’re really in trouble, you know I’m on your side.”

  “It’s not like that,” he explained. “Well, here’s what happened today.”

  He began his story with the mysterious person in the sweatshirt and ended it in the coach’s office.

  “So, what do you think, Parker?” she asked.

  He got up and stretched. Then he put his arms behind his head and twisted back and forth. Then he did a few toe touches.

  “Why do you always wiggle around like that when you’re thinking?” she asked. “Just stand still and tell me your theory.”

  “I think there was something really fishy going on,” he announced.

  “Fishy? What do you mean?”

  “This is going to sound kind of crazy, but … well” — he hesitated — “maybe that guy who ran off with the camera was taking pictures.”

  “That’s usually what people do with a camera, Parker,” Melissa said sarcastically.

  “Don’t get wise,” he said. “I mean, I think he was taking pictures of the coach’s playbook. And he was using the paperweight to hold it in place.”

  “That’s pretty far out,” said Melissa. “Why would anyone want to do that?”

  “Maybe one of the guys on the team wanted a copy to study,” Parker suggested. “Or maybe it was a scout from one of the pro teams who wanted the inside track —”

  “There you go, Parker, making up stories,” Melissa said. “That’s how you start to get into trouble. No wonder the coach didn’t believe you. Nobody does. You’re always telling lies, one after the other.”

  “I wasn’t lying,” Parker insisted. “I’d never lie about something really important.”

  “Hah!” snorted Melissa. “That’s the biggest lie of all!”

  4

  Saturday morning dawned sunny and cold. By ten o’clock it had warmed up, but there was still a trace of dew on the grassy gridiron.

  At one end of the field, the Lawrence Leopards were going through their drills. Their white uniforms with blue trim and red numbers looked bright and flashy.

  The Kensington Kudzus, in their orange uniforms with white numbers, were just about through with their warmup when the first whistle blew. The referee signaled that it was time to start the game.

  Nick Watson, the Leopards’ quarterback, met up with Spike Newton for the Kudzus at the center of the field.

  The Leopards won the coin toss. They elected to receive and ran off to the east end of the field to get ready.

  “Okay, guys, this is it,” said Spike. Besides having a strong throwing arm, the Kudzus’ quarterback was the team’s best placekicker.

  The Kudzus lined up for their attack down-field.

  Spike kicked the ball high but not very far. It dropped into the hands of a receiver on the Leopards’ thirty-five yard line. But the runner didn’t get anywhere. Tackle Billy Wilson brought him down just shy of the forty.

  Seated on the bench, the Kudzus’ offense tried to guess what the Leopards would do with the ball.

  “They’re in pretty good field position,” offered Huey. “I bet they run the ball.”

  “Nah, first and ten on their own forty?” said the Kudzu tackle Tru Ballinger. “They’ll figure our guys are gonna guess that. Watch for the pass — the long bomb.”

  He was right about the pass but wrong about the distance. Watson threw a short screen pass. His tight end grabbed it with no trouble. But Jerry Lawrence, the Kudzus’ cornerback, was on him in a flash and made the tackle.

  It was a gain of four yards. Second and six to go for a first down.

  This time Watson called a running play. He handed off the ball to his fullback, Rick Fanelli, who broke through the Kudzus’ line. He crossed the midfield stripe and was heading for daylight. But a horde of orange uniforms drove him offside at the Kudzus’ twenty yard line.

  “C’mon, you guys,” called Coach Isaac from the sideline. “Dig in!”

  The Kudzus’ defense did the best they could. But the Leopards kept inching their way forward with a series of short running plays.

  “They’re too smart to put the ball in the air this close,” said Spike. “Too much to lose.”

  At a signal from Coach Isaac, the Kudzus’ defense called a time-out and came over to the sidelines.

  As the whole team crowded around, he pointed out some of the mistakes that they were making.

  Terry Gold, the Kudzus’ right guard, spoke up.

  “I noticed something, too,” he said. “If Watson looks to the right before he starts to call signals, it usually means he’s going to pass. That’ll give us a shot at him.”

  “You’ve been watching too much football on TV,” said Bucky Burke, the nose tackle.

  “Just keep your eyes open and play some heads-up ball,” said the coach. “Terry could be right.”

  He was. On the next play, Watson glanced briefly toward Larry Ling, his receiver on the right, before he called out, “Two! Four! Ten! Hike!”

  The Leopards formed a wall as their quarterback looked for his intended receiver. But deep in the Kudzus’ backfield, Ned Bushmiller had Ling covered like wallpaper.

  Meanwhile, Terry Gold broke through the Leopards’ line and headed for Watson, who kept fading back.

  The beleaguered quarterback searched for a white uniform in the clear. He shifted to the left, then to the right, farther and farther back from the line of scrimmage.

  Suddenly, a sea of orange-and-white uniforms was practically on top of him. Before he could position himself to throw the ball, he was brought down — back in his own territory.

  From the sidelines, the Kudzus’ offense called out to their teammates on the field.

  “Way to go!”

  “Right on!”

  Slaps and cheers rang out as the defense stomped down the field.

  “I think they’re a little shook up,” said Fabian.

  Parker agreed. “Wait till we get out there. We’ll show ’em a thing or two.”

  Fabian nodded.

  The next play produced a pileup that gained the Leopards nothing.

  “Third down and forty? He’s gotta throw now,” said Spike.

  But Watson surprised a Kudzu defense that was looking for the long pass. He flipped a short lateral to his halfback, Albie Fredericks, who looked as though he was in the clear. Fredericks grabbed it, but Billy Wilson, the Kudzus’ left tackle, was right there. Billy hit him the minute he took his first step forward.

  The ball squirted out of Fredericks’s hold and wobbled forward. Mike McCarthy, the Leopards’ right guard, and Marty Marino, his Kudzus defensive counterpart, collided as they rushed to pick it up.

  Their impact sent the ball bouncing back down toward the east end of the field.

  The Kudzu bench was on their feet.

  “Get that ball!” rang out from both sides of the field.

  After a wild scramble by a dozen players, Kudzu linebacker Jerry Lawrence landed on the ball four-square.

  It was on the Leopards’ twenty-five yard line!

  A chorus of groans broke out in the Leopards’ stands. The crowd of Kudzus fans cheered wildly.

&
nbsp; This is our big chance, thought Parker. Whoever scores first always has the advantage.

  “Let’s move that offense!” called Coach Isaac.

  “Go, team, go!” shouted the Kudzus fans.

  In the huddle, Spike announced his plan of action.

  “We’re not going to mess up like they did,” he said. “We’re sticking to the ground. We’ll start with Thirty-two Grind.”

  Just like in practice, thought Parker. Out loud, he said, “Okay, guys, I’ll be looking for that hole.”

  Spike clapped his hands, and the team broke from the huddle.

  The Kudzu quarterback barked out the signals.

  Wham! As soon as the ball touched Parker, he was brought down by two Leopard linemen. He barely managed to hold on to the pigskin.

  I guess they’re wise to that one, he thought.

  “Fabe, looks like you’re going to have to do it,” said Spike. “We’ll try Twenty-three Blue.”

  This play called for a quick fake to Parker and then a handoff to fullback Fabian deRosa. It was a play the Kudzus often used at the goal line when they needed just a yard or two.

  I guess Spike is planning to crawl down to the goal, Parker thought. As long as we get there.

  Huey Walker centered the ball. Spike leaned in, called out, “Two! Zero! Three! Hut! Hut! Hut!”

  Spike grabbed the ball, faked toward Parker, then spun around and turned it over to Fabian.

  Thud! Again, the Leopards were on top of the receiver. They brought him down almost before he had the ball in his hands.

  It was the second loss of yardage for the Kudzus. Now they had twenty-two yards to go for a first down.

  “Third and twenty-two,” said Cris. “You have to put it in the air, Spike.”

  “I know, I know,” said the Kudzu quarterback. He licked his fingertips. “I’m gonna try one to Moose. We’ll go with Eighty-eight Red.”

  They lined up in their usual single wing position, with Spike behind Huey at center. Fabian stood behind Spike, with Parker to his right and a little forward. Stacy and Cris moved wide to the right and left. Moose got into position just off left tackle.

  Spike roared out the signal loud and clear.