Kickoff! (10 page)

“I don't know . . . ,” said Tiki, suddenly feeling nervous.

“Come on, man!” Ronde said. “What do we have to lose? What's he going to do? Bench us?”

Tiki laughed nervously. “You're right, bro. Okay, then. We'll talk to him about it. Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? Why not
today?”

Tiki took a deep breath, and blew it out again. “All right,” he said. “Today's the day, then.”

There was a moment's silence between them. Tiki tried to imagine what it would be like, approaching Coach Spangler about playing time. “Ronde, maybe we should just hang in there and see what happens.”

“Come on, don't be a wimp!” Ronde said. “We already agreed on it.”

“I know,” Tiki said, “but maybe it's not such a good idea.”

“Hey, man, no chickening out,” Ronde insisted. “Remember, if the worst happens, there's always the track team.”

Tiki sure hoped Ronde wasn't wrong about this. Somehow, it seemed to him that there was a
whole lot
to lose. Being a scrub was bad, but getting kicked off the team would be a disaster!

When they were all in uniform, the players gathered in the big lecture room next to the gym. “Okay, team,” Coach Spangler addressed them. “Today's practice is all about Xs and Os. We've designed some new plays we want to put in, and today we're gonna try 'em out. It'll be first team on first team, second on second, third on third.”

He looked around the big room where all the players had gathered, then turned to the screen. “First slide,” he said to Coach Pellugi, who was manning the laptop.

Two lines of letters appeared on the screen. The offense was represented by Xs, the defense by Os. There were eleven of each.

“Okay, we'll call this play ‘Notre Dame.' It's a pass play, designed with the wide receivers in mind. Second slide. We line up like this—everybody know which X or O you are?”

Everyone nodded. It wasn't hard to tell—under each X or O were initials indicating which position they stood for: QB for quarterback, WR for wide receiver, RB for running back, and so on.

The new slide showed some of the Xs moving, arrows pointing the way. “The wide receivers are doing a cross pattern here,” Coach Spangler said, pointing.

“At ten yards, you make your cut. The fullback blocks out the first defender, while the halfback releases into the flat, about five yards up from the line of scrimmage. He's the third option. Quarterbacks, if neither wideout is free, check off and go to the halfback. If you have to scramble, and nobody's free, just head for the sidelines and get out of bounds—no matter what, don't throw up a pass that could be anybody's ball.”

He looked around the room. “Any questions?”

There were a few, after which he went on to the next play—“Alabama”—and the one after that—“Auburn.”

“Okay, I think that's enough for one day. Does everybody know their responsibilities for all three plays?”

“Yeah!” all the players shouted.

“Okay! Let's get out there and run 'em until they're smooth as a baby's behind!”

Tiki, Ronde, and all the rest of the players ran out onto the field. “First team, you're up!” shouted Coach Spangler.

While the first team practiced, the second-stringers sat, and the third-stringers did drills. Then the second-stringers took their turn, with the first-stringers doing drills and the third-teamers on the bench.

That was when Tiki and Ronde saw Matt Clayton sitting there. They both went over to join him.

“Hey, guys, how's it going?” he asked, high-fiving them.

“Good,” said Tiki. “How about you?”

“I'm getting this stupid cast off on Saturday,” Matt said.

“Awesome!” Ronde said.

“I wish it was sooner. I'm gonna have to miss the game that day.”

“Hey, no biggie. We'll take care of business for you.”

Matt laughed. “You'd better!”

“How soon can you play again?” Ronde asked.

“They said they'll see, once the cast is off. Maybe right away, maybe not for a week or two. But I'd like to see anybody try and stop me from playing!”

Tiki thought about asking Matt whether
he
thought it was a good idea to talk with Coach Spangler about their playing time. But he already knew what Matt would say, because he'd said it before, during tryouts. Maybe Ronde had forgotten his words, but Tiki hadn't:

It's all about the
team . . .

“Third team, you're up!” came Coach Spangler's voice.

“Gotta go,” Tiki told Matt.

“Catch you later,” Ronde said.

“I'll be watching you guys,” Matt told them. “Now's your chance to show everyone what you've got—including me.”

Exactly what I was thinking,
Tiki said to himself.

The offense huddled. Joe Bacino, the third-string quarterback, said, “Notre Dame. On two,” meaning the snap was to come on the second “hut.”

Tiki got into his stance at halfback. Across the line, Ronde was playing cornerback, defending one of the wide receivers.

“Twenty-five . . . fifteen . . . hut! Hut!”

It all happened in a matter of seconds. The center snapped the ball, and Joe dropped back. Tiki found a hole in the line and jogged casually through it, then turned to face his quarterback. He saw Joe look for his wide receivers. Not finding them open, he looked for Tiki, and fired the ball right into his numbers!

Tiki grabbed it, spun to his right, and sped downfield. He broke one tackle, then another. He spun left, deked sideways, then dodged still another defender and raced for the end zone.

He was going to score!

Wait, no he wasn't—Ronde came out of nowhere. Tiki tried his best spin move, but it was no use—Ronde knew
all
his moves, from years of playing in the street. He made a diving tackle, and Tiki went down.

OOF!

A loud whoop went up from everyone on the sidelines. As the brothers trotted back to the line of scrimmage, everyone was clapping and shouting to them:

“Way to go!”

“Double trouble, yo!”

“Attaway, Barbers!”

Tiki tried not to show any reaction, but he couldn't keep from smiling. Checking with Ronde, he saw the same grin on his brother's face.

But the two didn't dare high-five or celebrate. Both of them knew it was only one play. And unless Coach Spangler agreed to give them more playing time, they'd still be back on the bench that Saturday.

The third-stringers ran the other two plays, “Alabama” and “Auburn.” Tiki made another big gain with “Auburn,” a running play designed for the halfback.

And guess who brought him down in the backfield? Ronde,
again.

“Hey, you guys!” Matt Clayton called to them as the third team trotted off the field at the end of practice. “Nice going!”

Tiki and Ronde jogged over to him as he gathered up
his crutches. “I've got a great idea,” Matt said. “How'd you guys like to help me work back into shape next week?”

“What do you mean?” Ronde asked.

“I mean, I want to get back on the field as soon as possible,” Matt said. “That means I'm gonna have to be throwing every day, and running the new plays so I get familiar with them. You guys have the kind of talent I want to work with.”

“Thanks, man!” Tiki said.

“So, is that a yes?” Matt asked.

“Count on it!” Ronde said, and they all high-fived each other.

Tiki and Ronde headed back into the locker room, floating on a cloud. They'd made a big impression in practice, and Matt Clayton had paid them the biggest possible compliment—he wanted them to help him get back into playing shape. On top of that, he'd said they had talent!

Then the twins caught sight of Coach Spangler, sitting alone in a corner, making notes on his clipboard.

And they remembered—their day wasn't over yet.

“It's now or never,” Ronde said. “You still game, Tiki? Or are you gonna chicken out?”

Tiki wished he could chicken out. He didn't feel like ruining the good impression they'd made by complaining to the coach like a couple of brats.

But no way was he going to let his brother call him a chicken for the next ten years!

They approached Coach Spangler, standing next to him until he looked up. “Hey, guys,” he said. “What's up?”

“Um, Coach,” Ronde began. Then he hesitated.

“Yes?”

“Um . . . Tiki wants to ask you something.”

“What?” Tiki said. “This was your idea!”

“Shut up!” Ronde hissed.

“Guys! Guys!” Coach Spangler said, holding up his hands. “Somebody tell me what's going on. Please.”

Tiki sighed. Obviously, after all Ronde's strutting, he was being a total wimp! “Coach . . . Ronde and I . . . well, our mom always says you should stand up for yourself and speak out when you think something's important.”

“I agree,” said the coach. “Your mom is a smart lady. What's on your mind?”

“So, um . . . well, we just think . . . we ought to be playing more.”

Coach Spangler let out a little laugh, but Tiki could tell he wasn't amused. “Look, kids,” he said. “You did very well today. I've seen flashes from both of you. I'm sure you're both gonna be starters for this team someday. And I'm glad you spoke up.”

Tiki was starting to feel better about asking, but Coach Spangler wasn't through yet.

“But understand this—I've got seventy kids here, and every one of them wants to play every single down of every single game. Well, it ain't gonna happen. Some kids are gonna play more than others, and the longer they're with the team, the more they're gonna play. Got it?”

“Got it,” Tiki said in a small voice.

“Got it,” Ronde said, even more quietly.

“You're gonna get your chance to shine,” Coach Spangler assured them. “It's gonna happen—probably sooner than you think. In the meantime, though, you've gotta remember—
it's all about the team.
If we win, it's the
team
that wins. If we lose, we all lose together. Now, you want to be starters?”

“Yeah!” Tiki and Ronde said together.

“Then you've gotta earn it, just like everybody else—by being good teammates. And remember, football's a mental game, too. Get your heads in the right place, and the rest will happen naturally in time.”

 •  •  •

Tiki and Ronde showered and changed back into their street clothes for the ride home on the late bus. They didn't talk much—in fact, they hardly said a word.

Tiki was disappointed. On the other hand, he had to remember all the good stuff that had happened today.

Most of all, he was excited about working out with Matt Clayton. Tiki liked Matt—he was a good guy and a great teammate. No,
more
than a teammate—he'd been
the
star
of the team, and was bound to be again, once he came back for real. If Tiki and Ronde became real friends of his, it would be the coolest thing ever!

 •  •  •

When they got home, their mom was in the dining room. The whole table was covered with petition forms, all of them full of signatures. Mrs. Barber was mumbling to herself, counting the names. “2,456 . . . 2,457 . . . 2,458 . . .”

“Wow, Ma,
look
at all these!” Ronde said.

“Sssh! 2,459 . . . 2,460! 2,460 signatures! I can hardly believe it.”

“That's a lot!” Tiki said. “You did a great job, Ma!”

“Not just me,” said Mrs. Barber. “I had a whole team to help me.”

“Mom, that sounds like what coach says at practice,” Ronde said.

Well, not exactly,
thought Tiki.
But pretty close.

“Did you know that Mrs. Pendergast once had a family of her own?” their mom suddenly said.

“Uh-uh,” said Tiki.

“No,” said Ronde.

“I didn't know myself, until today. I happened to say something about our campaign—that it was all about keeping my family healthy—meaning you two boys. And she just burst out crying. It turns out her husband and two children were killed in a car crash a few years back.”

“What?”

Tiki was shocked, and he could see that Ronde was, too.

“That's right,” said Mrs. Barber. “Ever since then, she's devoted herself heart and soul to helping other people and their families.”

Tiki felt sorry now that he'd ever called Mrs. Pendergast weird.

“She's somebody to be admired, not feared,” said their mom. She let out a sad sigh. “That poor woman. No wonder she talks to herself sometimes. She must be one of the loneliest people on earth.”

“Not anymore,” Tiki said with a smile. “'Cause she's part of a team!”

“That's right, Tiki. And this team's moving on to victory, don't you worry about that.”

“Well, you sure did a good job getting all these signatures,” Ronde said.

“Ronde, don't forget—you and your brother are part of this campaign, too. It's for your sakes I got involved in the first place, and I expect you to come to the next council meeting.”

“Again?” Ronde and Tiki said together.

“Boys,” said their mother, “being a part of a team isn't always fun. Sometimes you've got to show up when you don't feel like it. We need a big showing at this next meeting, and every head counts. You've got heads, don't you?”

Tiki and Ronde laughed. “Sure do,” said Tiki.

“Uh-huh,” said Ronde.

“Well, then, plan on being there tomorrow night.”

“Tomorrow?
I've got a big test the day after!” Tiki moaned.

“Me too!” Ronde said.

“Well, then,” said their mom, smiling, “I guess you'd better get started studying right away.”