Cody's Varsity Rush (7 page)

“Well,” Cody began again, slowly, “I'm gonna go upstairs and call Robyn. I'll be down in a few minutes, and maybe can we go to Louie's and have pizza for dinner? The game was awesome. I want to tell you about it.”

Another noncommittal grunt.

Cody was halfway up the stairs when it hit him. Something was wrong. He turned around and studied his dad again. He noticed the shoes—off-brand sneakers. They had been white once but now looked as if they had been dipped in soot. They didn't look familiar, although Luke Martin rarely wore anything resembling athletic shoes.
Maybe he found those
tired old kicks in the back of his closet, and he
'
s
finally going to do some yardwork
, Cody thought.

But then he noticed the jeans. They were faded so badly that they looked almost white, rather than blue. And the legs filling them were thick, testing the seams, not the spindly limbs that Cody had inherited from his dad.

Cody swallowed hard. Was the figure in the chair a friend of his dad's, maybe just waiting for him to come home? No, that didn't make sense. A friend would have introduced himself.

He thought about bounding up the remaining stairs, grabbing the phone and calling 911. But how long would it take the police to respond? And what if the phone lines had already been cut?

He eased down the stairs. “On second thought,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm and measured, “I think I might shoot a few hoops before I call Robyn. Can't lose my shooting touch, you know.”

He moved toward the door. The figure lowered the paper and smiled at him.

“Hello, Cody,” Gabe Weitz said, with a teeth-baring smile. “I'm glad you're home.”

Chapter 4 The Speed Challenge

C
ody eyed the front door, wondering if he could get to it before Weitz grabbed him. Weitz was closer, but Weitz was also bulky and sitting down. Still—

This may be the stupidest thing you ever do
, Cody told himself as he turned and sprinted up the stairs, legs pumping like pistons.
In fact it might be the
last
stupidest thing you ever do
. He heard Weitz's heavy footfalls on the steps behind him. But at least they were
slow
heavy footfalls.

Cody whipped into his room and hurried to the lone window that overlooked the front yard. He pushed out the screen and watched it flutter to the ground. He paused and turned around, sliding his feet out the window. Slowly, he began to lower himself, as if doing a chin-up in reverse. He felt the bottom of the window frame dig into his fingers. He fought to keep his eyes above the bottom of the windowsill. He felt his legs dangling helplessly below him.

Then Weitz was there, framed by the doorway, face crimson. Cody let his arms straighten, then released his grip.
Please, God
, he pleaded as he dropped,
no broken
ankles
.

Cody felt his feet hit the ground. Then, suddenly, he was sitting in the thick grass, which his father had neglected to mow for the past three weeks. Cautiously, Cody rose to his feet. His two-part landing hadn't been graceful, but, aside from a sore tailbone, he seemed intact.

He looked up at the window. Would Weitz actually try to get his hulking carcass through there? Probably not. Cody ran for the street, not sure where he would go.
Far, far away
was his only thought. He didn't see Maxwell Enger until he had almost trampled him. Max was his next-door neighbor. He was either two years old, three, or ninety-nine, depending on his mood when Cody asked him. Maxwell had wandered into the street, as he was fond of doing.

“Max,” Cody shouted, pointing to the Enger house. “Out of the street. Get home!”

Maxwell held out both arms. “Carry me, Cody.”

Weitz exploded out the door and ran toward Cody. Up the road, Cody saw a minivan approaching. He froze for a moment, then scooped Maxwell into his arms. He doubted he could outrun Weitz while toting a kid, but he wasn't going to leave Little Max, as he called him, wandering in the road.

He sprinted toward the minivan, Max jostling against his chest. “Faster, Cody. Faster!” Max cried gleefully.

Tomorrow, I might laugh about this
, Cody thought
.
If I live to see tomorrow.

He saw the van hit its brakes and go into a serpentine skid. He saw the panic in the driver's face.
He
'
s
trying like mad to stop, and I
'
m running right for
him, hauling a little kid in my arms,
Cody thought.
The poor guy must think I
'
m on crack
!

The van stopped. The driver was out of it, striding purposefully to erase the five yards between him and Cody. “Y-young man,” he stammered, “what in the world is going on here?”

“Cody givin' me a ride!” Max offered helpfully. “Fun!”

The driver looked at Max and smiled. The smile vanished the instant he focused on Cody again. “Are you this boy's brother? What are you thinking—running like a madman down the middle of the street? Is this man coming up to us the boy's father?”

Cody felt the human equivalent of a system overload. He wasn't sure which question to tackle first. “Found . . . Max in . . . street,” he managed. “Had to get him outta there.”

The driver spat on the street. “Running down the middle of the road is not the way to get someone out of danger.”

“You there,” he was addressing Weitz now. “Can you shed some light on this? Or do I need to get my cell out of the van and call the police?”

“Police!” Cody shouted, as if it were the secret word of the day on a radio contest. “Yes, call the police! Please. This guy,” he pointed an accusing forefinger at Weitz, “he broke into my house. He attacked me.”

The driver took two steps back toward the van. Cody felt worry encircling him like a python. The guy wasn't very big; maybe he was scared now. Maybe he was going to scurry inside his minivan and speed away.

Cody heaved a relieved sigh when the driver poked his hand inside the van and snatched his cell phone. He hit one key and held the phone to his ear.
I wonder
if he has the police on speed dial
, Cody thought.

While the driver waited for his call to connect, he stared at Weitz, who was bent over at the waist, hands on his knees, panting and coughing. “Is what this boy says true, sir?” the man asked.

Weitz looked up, held his palms up, and shrugged. “I don't know what he's talking about. I saw this guy running down the road with a kid in his arms. The kid looked scared. So I decided to run after him to check it out.”

“You're a liar!” Cody spat the words out like rotten food. The anger in his voice shocked him.

Cody turned back to the driver, who was mumbling something into his cell phone. “Okay, then, see you in a few.” He smiled at Cody and Weitz, but there was no humor in the smile. “Just called a friend of mine. Paul Vance. Coaches football at the high school. He'll be here in less than five minutes. So you both sit tight. Now I'm calling the police.”

Cody looked at Weitz. “Mr. Vance is my football coach. We'll see who he believes. You are so busted. I can't believe you broke into our house!” Cody pictured his sturdy coach, with a pushed-in boxer's nose. He looked like he had been in a few scraps. Meanwhile, he saw something in Weitz's eyes—panic.

Slowly, Weitz began backing away. Then he turned and jogged back down the street. “Hey, wait just a minute!” the driver called. But then apparently a voice on his cell phone interrupted him.

Cody lowered Max to the ground as he watched Weitz climb into a battered Nissan truck that was parked in the street opposite Cody's house.
I wondered
whose Loser-Mobile that was,
Cody thought.

Coach Vance arrived five minutes after Weitz drove away. Cody explained the entire saga. The harassment, the threats, the beat-down from Doug Porter. The coach's face grew progressively redder as Cody went on.

When Cody finished, Coach Vance looked him in the eyes. “Martin, you need to tell your father about this tonight. You need to report this to the police right away. This Weitz fella has broken the law. That needs to be dealt with.”

“There you are, ya little snot!” The abrasive voice of Max's mother preempted Cody's response. “When are you going to learn to quit creeping out of the house?”

Max looked at his mom and smiled. “Cody give me a ride!” he said. “Cody strong!”

“Yeah, whatever,” Mrs. Enger said, slinging Max on her hip. “Thanks, Toby, for tracking down this little twerp. Again.”

“It's Cody,” he said softly, but he doubted that she heard him.

“That's what I like to see,” Coach Vance said when the departing duo was out of earshot, “a mom with a cigarette in one hand and a little kid in the other.” He put one hand on his jawbone, the other on the opposite temple, and gave his neck a sharp twist. The resulting crack made Cody shudder. “Anyhow, remember what I said about the police.”

“But Coach,” Cody protested. “Didn't your friend already call them?”

The coach shook his head. “That was just a bluff, right, Irv?”

“Yeah,” the driver said sheepishly. “I just called for the time and temperature. I figured Paul was better than the police. He's not worried about the whole brutality thing.”

“That's right,” Coach Vance said. “Videotape me putting the beat-down on some loser, and I'll put it on the Net and charge $29.95 per viewing!”

Cody paced the living room waiting for his dad to get home. It was 8:30 before he pulled in the driveway. He tugged Beth behind him, holding her hand like a teacher leading a little kid on a field trip.

“I think I'm gonna puke,” Cody muttered.

He stood in the front-door entrance. “Dad,” he said as soon as the door opened, “I have to tell you something!”

“Whoa there, buddy-o,” his dad chuckled. “Let us get inside first. Besides, we have something to tell
you
. And there's no way your news can trump ours.”

“But, Dad—”

“Cody,” his dad's voice was uncharacteristically stern. “Don't be rude. Please sit down.”

Cody shrugged helplessly and obeyed.

“Cody,” his father began, “you know that Beth and I have been together for quite some time now. And you know we've grown quite close to each other. And Beth has grown quite fond of you as well.” As if on cue, Cody's dad looked to Beth, who smiled at Cody and nodded.

His dad was talking again. It sounded as if he were reading a prepared speech. “I have told you the simple truth that I am not the kind of person who was meant to be alone. And I believe that God acknowledged that and brought Beth into my life. And so, after much thought and prayer, I have asked Beth to marry me. Thank goodness, tonight she said yes. We shall be married soon. Most likely early November.”

Cody tried to let the words sink in. That was just two-and-a-half months away.
Why so soon?
were the words that formed in his mind, but he decided they were best kept there.