Football Double Threat (3 page)

Jared nodded.

“That explains it, then. You had to be fast and able to read the offense to play that position well.”

“You had to know how to kick too,” Coach Ward put in. “That’s why we made you our kicker.”

Jared let out an impatient huff. “Kicking a soccer ball is totally different from kicking a football. Everyone knows that.”

Rocky squirmed uncomfortably at the disgust in Jared’s voice. Coach Royson gave Coach Ward a meaningful glance. Coach Ward’s face twitched, but other than that he didn’t show any sign of anger. Instead, he spoke lightly and carefully.

“Yes, that’s true, Jared. And playing defense in football is different from playing defense in soccer.” He leaned forward and fixed his gaze on the boy. “The question is, are you up to learning the position or are you going to back down from the challenge?”

Jared returned the gaze. “I’m not going to back down!” he replied.

“Good.” Coach Ward straightened. “Then it’s settled. You and Rocky will have extra practices with me to learn the safety position. I’ll be in touch with the time.”

“Thank you, boys, you may go now,” Coach Royson said.

Jared stood up fast, his metal chair scraping against the floor with a loud shriek. Rocky was about to follow him out the door when Coach Royson called him back.

“Rocky, Mrs. Richards asked if you’d deliver Bobby’s gear to their house. You can drop it by tomorrow. Bobby should be home from the hospital by then.”

The sound of Bobby’s bone snapping suddenly echoed in Rocky’s memory. He shook his head to clear it out and said, “Sure thing, coach.”

“Good. When you do, would you bring him one of these too?” The coach handed him two heavy cardboard boxes. “The other one is for you, of course.”

Rocky almost groaned aloud when he saw the boxes. They each contained thirty big chocolate bars. The candy was for the team’s fund-raiser; they cost a dollar each and every player was required to sell a boxful to help pay for equipment and league fees. They had three weeks in which to sell them all. Any unsold bars could not be returned. The player had to pay for those himself.

The fund-raiser was one of Rocky’s least favorite duties — knocking on the neighbors’ doors was only really fun at Halloween. But he had no choice in the matter, especially since after buying his music player, he didn’t have thirty dollars. Promising the coach to bring Bobby his candy as well as his gear, he picked up both boxes and left.

7

T
he next afternoon, Rocky loaded Bobby’s gear bag onto the back of his bike, stuck the box of candy into his backpack, and rode to Bobby’s house. The load on his back seemed light at first, but as he rode, the pack’s straps dug deeper and deeper into his shoulders. When he finally reached Bobby’s driveway, he took off the pack and rubbed the sore spots with relief.

“You think that hurts,” a wan voice said, “you should try having your leg broken.”

“Bobby?” Rocky looked around but didn’t see his friend. “Where are you?”

“Back here, on the screened-in porch.” A hand waved from behind an open window.

Rocky picked up the gear bag and backpack and made his way to the porch. He pushed open the door and stared.

Bobby was sitting in an easy chair with a video game controller in his lap. Next to him was a small table with the television remote, a bowl of chips, and a tall glass of root beer. A pair of crutches lay on the floor. And one of his legs was propped up on an ottoman, a thick white cast extending from the top of his thigh to below his knee.

“Whoa,” Rocky breathed. He sat on the floor next to him. “Does it — does it hurt?”

Bobby shrugged but didn’t stop playing his game. “Yeah. Especially at night.”

“Oh.” Rocky didn’t know what to say after that. Then he remembered why he’d come. “I brought some stuff for you.”

He held out Bobby’s gear bag. Bobby glanced at it but didn’t reach for it. “Just put it on the floor,” he mumbled.

Rocky set the stuff next to the crutches. Then he pulled the box of chocolate bars out of his backpack. “Um, I’ve got your fundraiser candy here too,” he said. “You want me to put that with the other stuff?”

Bobby didn’t take his eyes off the television screen. “I guess. Although I doubt I’ll get around to selling any of it.”

“You have to sell it,” Rocky reminded him. “If you don’t, you have to buy it yourself. Besides, the coaches won’t like it if you don’t even try.”

Bobby thrust the controller away then. “Big deal. It’s not like I’m going to be playing or anything. I’ll just be sitting on the sidelines like a lump. If I even bother going to the games.”

Rocky’s stomach gave a sudden, hard squeeze of guilt. “Bobby, I’m so sorry about your leg,” he said in a low voice. “If I had just let you use my music player, you wouldn’t be sitting here with that cast.”

Bobby toyed with the hem of his T-shirt. He seemed on the verge of saying something but didn’t. Then he sighed. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter now. I’m out for the season and nothing’s going to change that.”

“Yeah,” Rocky agreed lamely. “It, um, it really stinks.”

Bobby shook his head angrily. “You know what stinks the most? The fact that Vincent is taking over my position. I mean, I like the guy and all, but it still kills me to think of him playing my spot.”

Rocky gulped. It hadn’t occurred to him that Bobby might not have heard about Vincent — or that he might resent the person replacing him on the field.

“Actually, it’s not Vincent,” he told Bobby. He explained how their teammate was moving.

Bobby stared. “So who are they putting in my position?”

Rocky took a deep breath. “Well, Jared, for one.”

“The
kicker
?” Bobby’s anger flared into outrage. “He doesn’t even want to be on the team!”

“I know. But he said he’d do it.”

Bobby shook his head in disgust and then asked, “So who else?”

“Who else what?”

“You said, ‘Jared, for one,’” Bobby reminded him impatiently. “So who else?”

“Oh. Right. Um, promise you won’t be mad?”

Bobby narrowed his eyes. “Who
is
it, Rocky?”

“It’s me.”

Bobby blinked in surprise. Then his expression turned blank. He turned away from Rocky, pushed a button on the controller, and restarted his game.

Rocky stared at his toes, miserable. For more than a minute, the only sounds came from the television.

Then, his eyes on the screen, Bobby asked, “You think you’ll be any good at it?”

“Not as good as you,” Rocky replied loyally. “You’re the best.”

His answer earned him a twitch of a smile from Bobby. “You got that right.”

“I’ll probably mess everything up! Totally! And Jared? Forget about him! Like you said, he doesn’t even want to be there.”

He started telling Bobby about Jared’s reactions to Coach Ward’s comments, but Bobby cut him off abruptly. “Rocky, listen, my leg’s kinda hurting.”

Rocky took the hint and stood up. “I gotta go anyway. Got to sell some candy, you know?”

Bobby glanced down at the chocolates for the first time. “That box looks heavy.”

“Yeah, it is.”

Bobby was quiet for a moment. He seemed to be considering something. Then he cleared his throat and said, “Say, Rock Star, I don’t suppose you could . . . oh, never mind.”

“Could what?”

“No, no, it’s too much to ask.” Bobby picked up the controller but didn’t start playing. Instead, he looked at the box of candy again. “It’s just that . . .”

“Just
what
?”

“Well, I’m not very good on the crutches and, like I said, my leg hurts. I don’t know if I can go door-to-door to sell all those chocolate bars. My mom just started a new job so I doubt she can drive me. My dad’s on this new health kick so he probably won’t want to be near it. And I don’t have thirty dollars to pay for them.”

Rocky finally got what Bobby was driving at. “You want me to sell your candy for you?”

Bobby looked up hopefully. “Would you?”

Rocky grinned. “Not a problem! It’s the least I can do since . . . but first, if your leg can stand my company, let me take a turn at that game. It looks awesome!”

But Bobby held the controller out of reach. “Forget it, man! You’ve got doorbells to ring! Now get outta here!”

8

R
ocky spent the next hour and a half biking from one house to another with Bobby’s candy. Unfortunately, many people turned him away, saying his teammates had beaten him to the sale. Still, he managed to sell twelve bars — leaving eighteen to go. Eighteen, plus his full box of thirty, he reminded himself, making forty-eight chocolate bars in all.

Eesh,
he thought as he returned home and put Bobby’s half-empty box alongside his full one.
This’ll take forever — unless I get some help!

“Say, Mom,” he asked Mrs. Fletcher over dinner later, “ wouldn’t you like to sell some candy bars at work?”

His mother just laughed. “Gee, honey, since I work for a dentist, that probably wouldn’t be a good idea, would it?”

“Oh. I guess not.” Rocky turned to his father. “Say, Dad —”

“Sorry, son, but that’s a no-go at my office. My co-workers are tired of being pestered to buy stuff from other people’s kids.” He looked at Rocky’s crestfallen face and laughed. “Tell you what, though. I’ll buy a couple bars myself, bring them to work, and eat them in the lunchroom. If anyone asks for a sample, I’ll tell them where they can get one of their own.”

“Thanks, Dad, that’d be great!”

Just then, the phone rang. Rocky answered it.

“Uh, hi, this is Jared,” the voice on the other end said. “Coach Ward asked me to call you. He’s arranged for us to use the football field tomorrow at three. That good for you?”

Rocky groaned inwardly. School got out at two thirty. Regular practice started at three thirty. He’d planned to use the hour in between to run home and call his grandparents. He was going to ask them to buy — and maybe help him sell — some candy. But he told Jared he’d be at the field and hung up.

“Rocky,” his mother called, “if you’re done on the phone, please load the dishwasher and then head to your room and finish your homework. Remember, you have to keep your grades up if you want to keep playing football!”

Chores, school, candy, extra football practice — Rocky pressed his thumbs to his eyes. It was going to be one busy fall!

Rocky wasn’t certain Bobby was going to be at school the next day. But there he was in class, surrounded by students signing his cast.

The crowd broke up when their teacher, Mrs. Ryan, came into the room and clapped her hands.

“We’re starting our unit on geology today,” she announced. “Geology is the study of the Earth and what it’s made of. This week we’ll be learning about the three basic types of rocks: the igneous, the sedimentary, and the metamorphic. Then, tomorrow, I will be taking you on a walking trip to the local park to collect samples for you to study throughout the remainder of the week. Any questions?”

Bobby raised his hand. “Can I collect and study Rocky?” he asked innocently.

When the class had stopped laughing, Mrs. Ryan told them to open their science books to the geology chapter. As they read, Rocky discovered that he was interested in the material. Unlike some of the other sciences, geology made sense to him.

Maybe it’s just because my name is Rocky, he joked to himself.

“Before I forget,” Mrs. Ryan said at the end of class, “you each need to bring a resealable zipper bag to school tomorrow to put your rock samples in. And wear old clothes because you’re going to get dirty!”

9

T
he rest of the school day was uneventful. When the final bell rang at two thirty, Rocky stowed his homework in his backpack and hurried to the gym for practice with Coach Ward. Liam and Lars were there too, getting suited up.

“Hello, Rocky,” the coach greeted him warmly. “Glad you could make it. I asked Lars and Liam here to run some plays with you and Jared.” He looked around and frowned. “Where is Jared, anyway?”

“I haven’t seen him yet, coach,” Rocky replied.

Coach Ward pursed his lips but didn’t say anything other than to tell the boys to go to the field and warm up.

They were just finishing a lap when Jared arrived. Coach Ward was right behind him, his expression dark.

“If you’re going to be a part of this team,” Rocky heard the coach say angrily, “I expect you to follow its rules. That includes being on time.”

“I never asked to be part of this team, remember?” Jared flared back. “I’m only here because —”

The other boys drew alongside the pair just then and Jared bit back whatever he was about to say.

Coach Ward slapped his clipboard against his thigh. “All right, all right,” he said after a moment of awkward silence. “Let’s get started.”

He began with a rundown on what a safety did. Rocky, Lars, and Liam already knew, but since it was Jared’s first year playing, Rocky figured the coach wanted to be sure the other boy had the same knowledge.

“The two safeties are the last line of defense,” Coach Ward explained. “If a ball carrier gets past that line, chances are he’ll have a clear run into the end zone.”

He flipped over his clipboard to show them a drawing of a typical defensive lineup. He pointed to the free safety in its spot farthest from the line of scrimmage, and the strong safety, who lined up closer to that line and opposite the offense’s tight end. In front of the safeties were the three linebackers; the linebackers were flanked by two cornerbacks. The two defensive ends and two defensive tackles were at the line of scrimmage.

“The name of the game in defense is: stop the guy with the ball,” the coach continued. “After the snap, the ends and tackles immediately try to break through the offensive line to stop the play from getting off the ground. The linebackers are there to shut down the running plays by tackling the ball carrier. If the linebackers can’t stop the ball carrier and the ball carrier runs to the outside, the cornerback on that side of the field stops him. If the run is to the inside or if the cornerback can’t get to him, the safeties try for the tackle.”

He paused to make sure the boys were following along. They all nodded, even Jared.