Goal Line (10 page)

BONK!!

All of a sudden the football hit him square in the side of the helmet.

“What in the—” Tiki turned to see a half dozen of his teammates laughing their heads off and pointing at him. “What's so funny?”

“Dude,” said Manny, who had obviously thrown the pass, “I yelled ‘Heads up' three times! Are you in dreamland or what?”

More laughter followed this remark, and that got Tiki annoyed. “I'm not in dreamland, yo. I'm just thinking.”

“Well, quit thinking, and concentrate on football for a while instead, huh?” This from Coach Pellugi, head of the Eagles offense, who happened to catch the last part of the conversation. “Let's go, fellas. Look alive. We've got a big game coming up, and we don't want to play like we did the last game.”

Coach Ontkos was right, Tiki knew. They'd gotten away with a victory in a game they could have, and maybe
should
have, lost. They might not be so lucky next time.

It was important to practice hard now, to get all the players working together like a well-oiled machine. None of them, least of all Tiki, could afford to spend this precious time daydreaming.

And yet … those letters waiting for him on the other side of tomorrow's edition of the
Weekly Eagle
kept swimming into his brain, drawing his concentration away from where it needed to be.

OOOF!
Manny's handoff caught him by surprise, and he nearly dropped the ball.

“Let's go, Barber!” Coach Pellugi barked. “Everyone works hard today. No exceptions!”

Tiki felt the blood rush to his face. It was a good thing his helmet was on, covering his look of embarrassment.

“Sorry, Coach,” he said. “It won't happen again.”

He was irritated by his teammates' laughter, even though he knew he had it coming. He'd written to Suzie in his column that she should hold her head up, even when her classmates were laughing at the teacher's cruel remarks. Yet here he was, finding it hard to take his own good advice!

He wondered how that advice would go over. Would people like his new column? Would they think his advice
was good? What if they hated it? What if his advice was bad and screwed up someone else's life big-time?

And how was he supposed to concentrate on football with all these worries weighing him down?

WHEN RONDE SAW TIKI AT LUNCHTIME THAT
Wednesday, it was from a distance. Tiki was surrounded by kids, all of whom were talking to him at once. Most were waving copies of the school paper. One girl wanted his autograph on it. Ronde saw Tiki's startled look as he took her pen and signed his name under his first advice column.

So
, Ronde thought. Tiki was a star now, and not just at football. He laughed to himself at the strangeness of it all. He was a little jealous, sure. Who wouldn't be? But he was also proud of his brother's success. It was really something, to have everyone admire you, not just for your athletic ability, but for your wisdom, too.

Ronde wondered if maybe he should have taken Tiki up on his offer to help with the column. After all, he was as good as Tiki at giving people advice. He did it all the time, whether they wanted to hear it or not. In fact, when he and Tiki argued, it was Ronde who was right 90 percent of the time.

He gave up on getting anywhere near Tiki for the
moment and settled in at a far-off table with Justin, Paco, and Adam.

“Jeez,” Paco was saying, looking over at the crowd that surrounded Tiki. “I sure hope he's got his head in the game when Friday rolls around.”

Ronde hadn't thought of it, but Paco had a point. They'd all seen how distracted Tiki'd been at practice, and that was
before
the paper had come out. Now that everyone wanted his advice, would Tiki be able to keep his mind on the game?

Ronde sure hoped so, because their next two opponents were the best teams in the league—Blue Ridge and Pulaski. The Eagles were going to need all of Tiki's energy and effort, not just a part.

After practice Ronde grabbed his brother's arm before they got on the bus. “Let's go for an ice cream soda,” he suggested.

“Huh? How are we gonna get home if we do that?”

“It's only a couple miles. We can walk it—or we could race.”

“Ha! You know I'd have you beat.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, but we probably shouldn't run if we're gonna have ice cream sodas first.”

“So, is that a yes?” Ronde wondered.

“You buying?”

“Oooo, you got me,” Ronde said. Out of his pocket he fished two worn dollar bills he'd earned for mowing Mrs. Prendergast's lawn. “I'm gonna need some help, though. I'm a little short.”

“I noticed.”

“Hey!”

“Sorry. You set me up for that one.”

Tiki searched his own pockets and came up with eighty-five cents. “Mr. Kessler will let us owe him the other fifteen cents,” Ronde assured his twin. “Let's go—for old times' sake, huh?”

The twins had been going to Kessler's for sodas and comic books ever since third grade. The place was near their school, but also close to the high school, and to the elementary school they'd both attended. Mr. Kessler had known them since they were little, when they'd been harder to tell apart.

He was always happy to see them, and today was no exception. “Hey, how's my guys?” he asked, coming out from behind the counter and clapping them both on the backs. “You're all over the papers these days. Football heroes! Who would've thought it?”

Looking from one to the other, he frowned in confusion. “Hey, I thought you guys were supposed to be identical.”

“I know, I know,” Ronde said, sighing in frustration. “He just hit his growth spurt first, is all.”

“I'm three inches taller,” Tiki said proudly, then put up his hands to meet Ronde's elbow, which otherwise would have poked him in the ribs.

“Well, never mind,” Mr. Kessler told Ronde. “You'll catch up soon enough.”

“I don't know about the ‘soon enough' part,” said Ronde, letting it go for now.

“Hey, here come a couple of your old buddies!” Mr. Kessler said, pointing through the plate glass window at the front of the store. Just then the door opened, and in walked the Eagles' last two quarterbacks before this year—Matt Clayton and last year's QB, Cody Hansen.

“Yo, what's up?” Tiki called, and they all greeted one another with backslaps and team handshakes.

“What are you guys doing here?” Cody asked.

“Just taking a stroll down memory lane,” said Tiki. “How's high school treating you?”

“Eh,” Cody said, frowning. “Okay, I guess.”

“He's just down because he's riding the bench this year,” said Matt, putting an arm around Cody's shoulder. “Don't worry, dude. You'll get your shot. After I leave for college, that is.”

“Not funny,” said Cody.

“Actually, I got scouted for Randolph Prep for next season,” Matt said.

“Wow, congratulations, man,” Tiki said.

“That's awesome, Matt,” Ronde added. Randolph Prep
was a football powerhouse. Kids from there went straight to places like Ole Miss, Alabama, and Notre Dame.

“So cheer up, dude,” Matt told Cody. “You might be starting as soon as next year.”

“Hmph,” said Cody. “Not soon enough for me.”

“Just chill, man,” Ronde told him. “Matt's right. It won't be long till you're the man. Remember seventh grade? Tiki and I barely played that whole year.”

“Not what I want to hear,” said Cody.

Ronde knew how hard it must be for him. He'd gotten his chance to start in junior high early, when Matt broke his leg. So he'd never really suffered on the bench for very long, the way the rest of them had.

“I hope you're not wishing for me to get hurt again,” Matt told Cody, only half-joking. They all knew what an intense competitor Cody was—not the most patient person in the world.

“The main thing is, you guys are winning,” Ronde said. “You're 3–0, right? Hey, if you win the championship, it belongs to you as much as anyone else on the team, Cody.”

“Skip it, Ronde. I've heard it all before,” said Cody glumly.

“It's all about the team in the end,” Ronde reminded him.

“Easy for you to say,” said Cody. “You're the big star, and you play every down of every game.”

“So far,” Tiki pointed out.

“Stay positive, Cody,” Ronde advised. “Remember last year. Remember what it took for us to win.”

Cody gave him a long look, then nodded. “Ah, you're right, Ronde,” he said, sighing. “I'm being kinda selfish, aren't I?”

“No, I wouldn't say that.…”

“I just said it for you,” said Cody. “But that's over. It's not about me, like you said. It's all about the team.”

Later, when they were getting up to go, Cody grabbed Ronde by the arm and said, “Thanks for that, man. I needed a reminder.”

When they were outside again, Tiki looked at his twin in wonder. “Ronde,
you're
the one who should have the advice column.”

“Oh, no, you don't,” Ronde said, smiling and waving him off.

“Why not?” Tiki asked. “You're the one who's always got the good advice, not me.”

“You're the one who won the essay contest, not me,” Ronde shot back.

“Seriously, though,” said Tiki. “How do you always know what to say to people? I mean like with Cody. That was impressive, dude. You really got him off his high horse.”

Ronde shrugged. “I don't know,” he said. “I figure most people already know what they should do to solve
their problems. They just want somebody else to tell them they're right. That way they know they're just like everybody else, and not some kind of freak.”

Tiki nodded slowly as they walked, letting Ronde's words sink in.

“Anyway,” Ronde continued, “I've got no time for an advice column. I've got to concentrate on gaining some inches and pounds, not to mention As and Bs.”

“I don't have time either,” Tiki admitted. “I heard today that six letters came to the
Weekly Eagle
office for me to answer! Six! In one day! Can you imagine? What am I supposed to do, quit school and do this full-time?”

Ronde shook his head. “I forgot to mention, I especially need to concentrate on football—and so do
you
, Brother.” He gave Tiki a meaningful look.

“What?” said Tiki, challenging him. “You got something on your mind, say it.”

Ronde stopped walking and faced his twin. “Okay. You saw how distracted you got at practice, and this thing you're doing is just getting bigger and bigger. How're we supposed to win another championship if you're busy thinking about your newspaper column?”

Tiki didn't answer. He just looked at the ground, then started walking again.

Ronde followed him and caught up quickly. “Well?” he asked.

“I'm thinking,” Tiki said, frowning, letting Ronde's
words sink in as they kept on walking into the sunset, headed for home.

The Eagles were 2–0, which, when you looked at it, was pretty good, considering they'd started 0–2 last year, and then come back to win it all. It made 2–0 look like a big improvement.

Still, Ronde thought, they'd been very lucky so far. Their first game had been against an easy opponent. Last week had been much tougher, and they'd nearly lost.

This week, against the Blue Ridge Bears, would be another tough test—the second of three away games in a row against last year's play-off teams. Next week it would be Pulaski, but Ronde didn't even want to think that far ahead. As tough as the Bears were, the Pulaski Wildcats were even tougher.

The Eagles were noisy and confident on the bus ride across town—
too
confident, in Ronde's humble opinion. He would have preferred a quiet bus, with every player inside his own head, collecting his thoughts, getting his mental game together.

Team spirit was fine, for what it was worth, but spirit alone wasn't going to beat the Bears today. They'd have to bring their “A” game, mentally as well as physically.

Coach Wheeler had prepared them well, as usual, showing lots of videos and drilling the team until the rookies looked and acted like veterans. But would they
be able to keep it together under game conditions, especially if the Eagles fell behind early?

Sure enough, the game began badly. During the opening kickoff the Bears surprised the Eagles with an onside kick, which led to a fumble recovered by the kicking team. Two plays later the stunned Eagles were down 7–0.

During the ensuing kickoff, the team was prepared for another surprise, and it got one, although it wasn't an onside kick. Instead the Bears hit a squib kick, forcing one of the Eagles blockers to grab the ball. He barely hung on to it, and finally the offense got to work.

Luke Frazier was a good blocker, and he was getting better every week. He could carry the ball too, which allowed the Eagles to pull some surprise plays of their own, like the double reverse, and the handoff lateral pass. Coach Wheeler wasn't calling any of those plays early on, though. He wanted to see if his Eagles could move the ball against Blue Ridge.

They couldn't. Not even Tiki was able to break free from the powerful arms of the Blue Ridge linebackers. After two hard-won first downs, the Eagles were forced to punt the ball away.

The first quarter went quickly, with very few stops of the clock. Both teams were trying to advance on the ground and not take too many chances. But it was the Bears who were gaining more yards, winning the battle of
field position. As the quarter came to an end, they were threatening again, third and goal on the Eagles seven.

The gun sounded, the whistle blew, and the teams trotted to the other end of the field to begin the new quarter. Ronde knew the Bears would be looking to the air on third down. With little room to maneuver, he guessed they'd shoot for the end zone. So he could lie back and wait for his man to approach, keeping his eyes on the quarterback in case he decided to roll out or run with the ball.