Football Double Threat Read online

  “Psst, Bobby! Can I have my samples?” Rocky whispered.

  Bobby turned a confused eye to him. “Huh?”

  “My rocks! Give me my rocks!”

  Bobby shook his head. “I don’t have your rocks!”

  Rocky grabbed Bobby’s backpack then. “Yes you do! I put them right in here!” He rummaged frantically inside the pack. But it was empty. “Where’d they go?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Rocky,” Bobby said. “There was only one bag of rocks in there — and it was mine!”

  “Is everything okay, boys?” Mrs. Ryan asked.

  “I — I lost my samples,” Rocky replied. He told her what happened. “Maybe I left my bag behind. Could I go look?”

  She shook her head. “I can’t let you go back there without a chaperone. You’ll have to go after school.”

  “What if they’re not there anymore?”

  “Take a rock hammer and pair of safety glasses with you. That way, you can gather a second set of samples if need be.”

  Rocky nodded dumbly. He was completely bewildered. He knew he had put his rock samples in Bobby’s backpack. So where had they gone?

  Then he realized what Mrs. Ryan had said. He had to go back to the park after school — but he was supposed to meet Coach Ward and the others for extra practice at three!

  If I run to the park and find my samples right away, I can still make it to the field on time, he figured. But if I have to dig out more samples, I’ll be late for sure! I may even miss the extra practice time altogether!

  There was nothing to be done about it, though. Schoolwork came first, football second.

  12

  After school, Rocky raced to the cliff. He searched frantically. There was no sign of his bag of rocks anywhere. Fortunately, there were many interesting bits of rock lying on the ground, including the seashell ones he’d dislodged earlier. He gathered several good-size samples and stuck them in his backpack. They rattled around as he ran, pell-mell, for the locker room.

  But even after running at top speed he was fifteen minutes late to safety practice. Coach Ward looked pointedly at his watch but nodded with understanding when Rocky explained what had happened. “I won’t be late again, I promise,” he assured the coach.

  “See that you aren’t,” Coach Ward said sternly. “You don’t become a good two-way player in a week by missing practice time.”

  The remainder of safety practice, and the regular practice that followed, went smoothly, much to Rocky’s relief.

  The next school day passed without mishap too. Rocky still couldn’t figure out what had happened to his original samples, but now that he had others it didn’t really matter.

  Midway through the geology lesson, Bobby whispered a reminder to him about the student council meeting that afternoon. Rocky whispered back that he had to be on time for practice. But Bobby reassured him that the meeting would be quick. Rocky hesitated a moment longer, and then nodded that he’d be there.

  So when the final school bell rang at two thirty, Rocky gathered his books and made his way to the room where the meeting was to take place. No one else was there yet so he took a seat at one of the desks to wait.

  At two thirty-five, he got up and peered into the hallway. It was completely deserted. He sat back down, wondering if he had the wrong room.

  The minutes ticked by. Suddenly, he heard laughter in the hall. He jumped up and hurried to the doorway. To his relief, he saw Bobby crutching his way toward him, accompanied by some other students.

  “There he is! There’s my campaign manager!” Bobby cried when he spotted Rocky.

  “Yeah, here I am!” Rocky replied hotly. “Where have you been?”

  Bobby blinked. “What do you mean?”

  “You told me the meeting started at two thirty! It’s quarter to three!”

  Bobby looked apologetic. “Did I say two thirty? Oh, man, I’m sorry, Rocky, I meant three. Well, no harm done, we’re all here now.” He started into the room.

  Rocky stood in his path. “Bobby, I can’t stay, I have to go to practice. I’m going to be late as it is!”

  “Okay, okay, go then!” Bobby huffed. “I’ll fill you in later.”

  Once more, Rocky found himself running at top speed for the football field. Unfortunately, by the time he’d suited up, he was more than ten minutes late. Lars, Liam, and Jared were already practicing.

  Rocky started to explain where he’d been, but Coach Ward cut him off. “Take over for Jared,” he said curtly.

  The coach worked the boys hard in the remaining time before regular practice. Rocky was still a little unsure of the position, but Jared seemed to have learned a great deal. In fact, Rocky noted with some surprise, Jared seemed to be enjoying his new role on the team. When the rest of the Pythons joined them, Jared joked and roughhoused with some of the defensive players.

  Then Coach Ward called him over — and the smile on Jared’s face vanished, replaced with a stony expression.

  It’s not football he dislikes, Rocky realized with a jolt, it’s Coach Ward!

  Coach Royson blew his whistle then, signaling the start of practice. Jared was told to stay with the defense, Rocky to join the offense.

  “We’re playing the Rangers on Saturday,” the coach reminded his offense. “They have the best defense in the league. To beat them, we have to have the best offense. So we’re going to work on a few trick plays today. If we can master them, I have a hunch they’ll fool those Rangers.”

  The first trick play was the flea-flicker. It was not a new play, the coach informed them, but one that professional teams had used for many years. It called for the quarterback to dish the ball to a running back. But instead of running with the ball, the back immediately dished it back to the quarterback, who looked downfield for an eligible receiver.

  “Those first two moves have to be lightning fast and right on the money,” the coach warned. “And the wide receivers have to be aware of who has the ball, where the defense is, and when the pass is coming. Okay, let’s give it a try!”

  13

  Coach Royson lined the offense up in I-formation, with Lars behind Jeff and Rasheed behind Lars. Rasheed was to take the handoff from Jeff and return the ball to him while Lars helped block. Isaac and Rocky were told to do an “out,” that is, run straight at top speed for seven yards and then cut to the sideline for the pass.

  “Let’s see it!” the coach called.

  The play went off like clockwork. Jeff took the snap. While Lars rushed forward to block an imaginary defender, Jeff shoveled the ball into Rasheed’s hands. Then Rasheed flicked the ball right back to Jeff. Jeff found Isaac near the right sideline. Isaac looked the ball right into his hands and cradled it against his chest.

  “Nicely done!” the coach praised. “Same again, only Rasheed and Lars switch places.”

  This time, the flea-flicker didn’t work as smoothly because Lars bobbled Jeff’s handoff. The ball bounced on the ground instead of going back to Jeff.

  “Start it up again!” Coach Royson called.

  Rocky had done his run and now had to hurry back to his spot. Sweat trickled down his forehead, but he didn’t have time to wipe it away because the players were in motion. Lars and Jeff did a perfect one-two back-and-forth, and when Jeff threw, the ball spiraled toward Rocky, who made a clean catch and danced a few more feet before turning and jogging back to the line of scrimmage.

  They practiced the play until the coach was satisfied that they all had it down cold. Sometimes Lars took the handoff, sometimes it went to Rasheed. Isaac caught several passes, as did Rocky.

  The coach then taught them a similar play he called the halfback pass. In it, Jeff would once again hand off to either Lars or Rasheed, but instead of getting the ball back, the running back would be the one to throw to either Rocky or Isaac.

  Rasheed was excited about the play, but Lars looked unsure. “I don’t throw that well,” he admitted. But he promised to do his best.

 
Unfortunately, his best was a weak and wobbly arc that would have landed in the arms of a defender had there been one on the field. Lars took some good-natured ribbing, but the next time, Rasheed was the one who threw.

  They worked on both trick plays for twenty minutes longer. Then Coach Royson summoned the defense and announced they were going to try out their new plays against them.

  “Flea-flicker,” Jeff said. “Rasheed takes the handoff.”

  The two sides faced each other. Rocky got into his three-point stance and looked up. His eyes landed on the safety position. He was so used to seeing Bobby’s face behind the helmet there that he was momentarily confused when he saw Jared’s instead.

  This was Jared’s first time playing in a real game situation, Rocky realized. The other two practices, the defense had remained separate from the offense. Rocky wondered if Jared was nervous.

  Then Jeff was calling the signals and Rocky had no more time to wonder. The ball was snapped and he took off. As he ran he imagined the ball moving from Jeff to Rasheed and back. When he guessed the ball was back with Jeff, he cut to the sideline and looked for the pass.

  He hadn’t gone very far when Jackson, the Pythons cornerback, raced forward to cover him. Rocky knew he was supposed to head out, but instead, he stopped short and cut inward. Jackson’s momentum carried him a few steps past Rocky. Rocky, meanwhile, sped forward again, looking over his shoulder for the short pass.

  It came hard, a bullet drilled right into his stomach. But that pass wasn’t anywhere near as hard as the tackle he got moments later.

  Wham! Whoever hit him did so solidly. They landed together on the turf, with Rocky on the bottom.

  “Gotcha!” the defender gloated as he got to his feet.

  “Jared?” Rocky had thought it was Jackson who nailed him to the ground. He stared in surprise before accepting a hand up from Jared. “You tackled me?”

  “Don’t look so amazed,” Jared said. “I used to play defense in soccer, you know.”

  Rocky rubbed his leg, imagining the bruise that would be there tomorrow morning. “Since when do soccer players know how to flatten a guy?”

  Jared gave a short laugh. “Let’s just say I have some aggression to work out!”

  “Sure,” Rocky replied. “But how about you save it for a real game? Sheesh!”

  The boys exchanged grins and then returned to their positions. The Pythons ran the trick plays over and over. While there were technically only two of them, the plays had several options each. The flea-flicker alone could start with a Jeff-Lars-Jeff or Jeff-Rasheed-Jeff combo. After that, the pass could go to either Rocky or Isaac — or even their tight end, Rocky realized, when Jeff chose to fire the ball to him after seeing that both Rocky and Isaac were covered.

  Yes, Rocky was sure the trick plays would help them to victory over the Rangers. Of course, they hadn’t been tested in a real game situation yet. That would happen on Saturday morning.

  14

  Rocky was beat after Wednesday’s practice. All he wanted to do was head home, have a shower and some dinner, get his homework done, and go to bed. But when he came in the door, the phone was ringing. He hurried to answer it.

  “Rocky, glad I caught you!” It was Bobby. “You’re off the hook for helping me with student council.”

  Rocky sank down in a chair in relief. “That’s gre —”

  “Off the hook for thinking up a slogan, I mean,” Bobby interrupted. “I already thought of one. Listen to this.”

  He cleared his throat and in a politician-type voice said, “Vote for Bobby Richards. He may have only one good leg, but he’ll stand firm and fight for what you want! What do you think?” he added in his normal voice.

  “Um, it’s fine, I guess.”

  “Glad you like it because I’ve already printed it up on a stack of handbills. I need you to help me put them up in the hallways after school tomorrow, okay?”

  Rocky closed his eyes. “Yeah, okay. But Bobby, I cannot be late for practice again. No matter what, I am leaving by two forty-five! Got it?”

  “No sweat. I only have a hundred papers, it shouldn’t take that long. By the way, how are the candy sales going?”

  Rocky almost groaned aloud. He’d totally forgotten about the football fund-raiser! There was only a little more than two weeks remaining; if he didn’t sell those chocolate bars soon, he’d wind up paying for them all himself. And with all he had to do these days, how was he supposed to earn thirty dollars?

  “I’ll get to it, Bobby, I promise,” he said.

  “Great. Because now that I’ve got this whole campaign thing, there’s no way I could do that too. See you tomorrow, Rocky!”

  Rocky called his grandparents right after he hung up and told them of his plight. They promised to buy some of the bars and to ask their friends to buy some too. They lived in the local retirement community, so Rocky arranged to come over later to deliver the candy. Then he went downstairs for dinner.

  It was eight thirty before Rocky returned home from his grandparents’ place. He’d sold eleven bars, but it had been slow going; everyone who bought the chocolate, including his grandparents, had a story to tell about when they were in school, or when they played football, or when they had to raise money for something. He’d listened as politely as possible but had been very happy to leave.

  As he carried the remaining thirty-seven chocolate bars to his room, he tried not to think about the fact that, if he hadn’t agreed to sell Bobby’s candy as well as his own, he’d almost be done with the fund-raiser now. Instead, he turned his attention to his homework.

  By nine o’clock, he’d finished his spelling and arithmetic. He opened his science textbook to the assigned chapter on geology. As he read, his eyelids grew heavy. His chin slowly sank to his chest. He jerked awake and shook his head to clear it.

  But it was no use. He was so tired the words seemed to be swimming on the page. He closed the book and crawled into bed, telling himself he’d get up early and read before school. Then he clicked off his light, rolled onto his side, and fell fast asleep.

  The alarm clock jangled before dawn the next morning. Rocky slammed his fist on the button to shut off the noise. Then he burrowed under the covers and fell back asleep. The next sound he heard was his mother’s voice calling frantically for him to get up so he wouldn’t be late for school.

  So much for reading! he thought as he hurriedly threw on some clothes and stuffed his homework and books into his backpack. As it was, he barely had time to eat breakfast and brush his teeth.

  Bobby caught up to him just as he was entering school. “Check it out!”

  He showed Rocky one of the handbills he’d made. It pictured him standing on his crutches, looking stern and determined, with the slogan underneath. “I brought plenty of tape,” Bobby added, holding up a thick roll of gray duct tape, “so we can cover this whole school with these!”

  “Mmm, great,” Rocky said. “Just so long as I’m outta here —”

  “— by two forty-five. Absolutely. Meet me here after the final bell and we’ll get it done in no time.”

  To Rocky’s relief, Bobby was as good as his word. They started taping up the papers at two thirty, with Bobby handing Rocky the handbills and Rocky taping them to the hallway walls. At two forty-two, Rocky handed Bobby the empty roll of tape. He was turning to leave when he heard an angry yell.

  “What do you boys think you’re doing?!”

  It was Mr. Jenkins, the assistant principal. He was staring, aghast, at the handbills.

  “Who approved the wording and image on this paper?” he asked. “Anything that is displayed at school must have approval first. And where is your slip granting you permission to put these papers up? It is strictly against the rules to do so without written permission.”

  Rocky looked at Bobby, waiting for him to produce the permission forms. Bobby ducked his head.

  “I, uh, didn’t know I needed that stuff,” he said meekly.

  Mr. Jenkins tore dow
n one of the papers. “Both policies were clearly outlined in yesterday’s student council meeting! You must take down every single one of these immediately! And don’t just throw the papers away. This school is making every attempt to ‘go green.’ So separate the paper from the tape and put the sheets in the appropriate recycle bins.”

  He handed Bobby the handbill and stalked away.

  Rocky turned to Bobby in dismay. “How could you not know? Weren’t you listening during the meeting?”

  “I guess I missed that part.” Bobby leaned against the wall and rubbed his leg above the cast. “Man, this thing is aching all of a sudden. You’ll help me take all this stuff down, won’t you?”

  Rocky had been on the verge of storming away. But the sight of Bobby in pain made him stop. So he swallowed his frustration, reached up, and started pulling down handbills.

  So much for safety practice, he thought. Coach Ward is going to kill me.

  15

  Coach Ward didn’t kill him, of course, but he did chew him out good and long.

  Fortunately, Rocky made it to safety practice on time on Friday. But that night, he had trouble falling asleep because he was worried about the next day’s game. When he did finally drift off, his dreams were troubled.

  Rocky awoke close to dawn and couldn’t get back to sleep. So he dressed, left a note for his parents saying he’d gone for a walk, and stepped out into the gray-blue light of early morning.

  He walked aimlessly and wound up near the park. He was blowing clouds of breath into the air when, suddenly, he heard a sound. He looked around and saw a boy about his age. Rocky couldn’t tell who it was at first. Then he saw that the boy had a soccer ball with him — and realized it was Jared.

  Jared bounced the ball from knee to knee for more than a minute. When the ball finally fell to the ground, he began to dribble. Rocky stared in admiration as Jared’s feet flew over the dewy grass, guiding the ball with sure taps.

  Then Jared stopped short and booted the ball with a solid kick. He punched the air with his fist as if celebrating a goal and then raced to retrieve the ball. When he turned, he saw Rocky and froze.