Secrets: The Hero Chronicles (Volume 1) (6 page)

“What do you need?”

“I’m Nicholas Keller. I’m here for tryouts.”

“Tryouts started last week. Sorry, you are too late.” He began to walk away.

“Excuse me. Coach Greg knew I was coming, and he told me to be here at 8:00 a.m.”

He turned back to me. “New recruits need to head over to the white trailer outside the locker room to get their football gear,” he said, pointing to the side of the school. “And, that’s Coach Hoff to you, not Coach Greg.” He walked back to the group of coaches still listening intently to the tall, older coach.

I walked to the side of the school where there was a white trailer right up against the building next to a door that read “Locker Entrance.” I looked inside the trailer. Football equipment was scattered around, and I noticed some movement in the back.

“Hello. I’m here for practice. I’m a new student,” I shouted into the dark trailer. The movement stopped and someone started to come to the front. He was having a hard time getting to the front because there was no clear path through all the equipment. The man that emerged was as tall as he was wide. He was wearing a green Winsor Football visor soaked with sweat. He had a whistle around his thick neck and a name badge that said “Coach Stenger.” He stood there staring at me. He was gasping for air like he had just run a marathon. His shirt was also drenched with sweat.

“Are you here for tryouts?” he wheezed.

I nodded my head yes.

“You know tryouts started a week ago?”

“Yes, I know, but I just moved here. My counselor, Joy Lemmins, talked to Coach Gr—Hoff.”

“Well then, that’s a different story. What grade are you in?” He took a deep breath.

“I’m going to be a tenth grader.”

He went back into the trailer, climbing over and through the piles of football equipment. Inside the trailer it had to be at least ten degrees hotter than outside. A few minutes later, after a lot of banging and several curse words, he made his way back to the front carrying football pads, a helmet, and a white jersey.

“Here, put these on,” he said. He was even more out of breath than before.

“Where should I go to change?”

“Right here. Just put the equipment on over your clothes.”

“What about lockers?”

“You only get to use the lockers if you are already in the program. You have to earn it.” He pulled out a small towel and wiped his red face.

I took my equipment to the side of the trailer out of view from Coach Stenger and started to put on my pads. More guys began to show up over the next five minutes to get their equipment from Coach Stenger.

“Hi, I’m Eric,” said a voice behind me.

I turned around. Eric was shorter than me by a couple of inches. His long, brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and he had a bronze tan.

“I’m Nicholas.”

“So are you new to the school?” he asked.

“Yeah, just moved here. And you?”

“No, lived here all my life, but this year my dad is making me try out for the team. Not that I wanted to, but he used to play for Winsor back in his glory days, so he wants to relive his youth through me.” Eric shrugged his shoulders. “Well, it’s nice to meet you,” he said, turning to put on his equipment.

Coach Stenger blew his whistle. “Let’s get out to the field, men! Let’s go! Let’s go!” He took the lead and trotted slowly out toward the field. We all walked behind his slow-paced jog.

The hot August sun was beating down on the field. It had to be over 100 degrees. I felt like I could have a heat stroke at any moment. The cool water from the on-field water station didn’t quench my thirst, but it sure made the heat more bearable. I filled my cupped hands with water and dumped it over my head, providing some relief.

There were coaches all over the practice field running different drills. I was assigned a group and told where to go. In the bleachers, people were actually sitting in the heat, watching players go through drills. While everyone else was doing drills, my group wasn’t. We were just running on the side of the practice field. Not only were we not taking part in drills, but we had also all been given football equipment that didn’t exactly fit. My equipment had to be at least two sizes too big. The jersey hung down to my knees, and every time I made a sharp turn my helmet would almost come off. It looked like I was wearing my older brother’s football equipment. Being only 5-foot, 9-inches and 145 pounds didn’t help either. I guess this is how they weed out new recruits. Let the equipment beat us to death.

Coach Stenger blew his whistle. We all jogged over to him.

“Okay, men, we only have five spots for the JV squad this year, and by the end of practice today you’ll know who made it and who didn’t. Now get out there and show us what you got!” Coach Stenger blew his whistle again with spit flying out of it, and we started to run up and down the side of the field again.

We ran for about thirty more minutes. All of the coaches were now together in the middle of the field, including Coach Stenger.

“Huddle up men!” One of the coaches yelled through a megaphone. We all circled around the group of coaches.

“It’s time for the annual JV-varsity scrimmage.” There was some cheering. The cheers came from the bigger and older guys who apparently were on the varsity team. Most of the younger guys’ faces showed no expression; some looked terrified.

“Hey, don’t worry about it, Nicholas. Coach Miller does this once a year. All we have to do is survive,” Eric whispered to me.

“Who’s Coach Miller?” I asked Eric.

“He’s the tall coach in the middle holding a clipboard. He’s the varsity coach, a legend around here. It’s his way or the highway. Did you see the billboards on the way here?”

I nodded my head yes.

“Those billboards were given to Coach Miller by some wealthy alumni to promote his team all over the state.”

“Okay coaches, break up the guys into offense and defense. Let’s see what they got!” yelled Coach Miller in a deep, powerful voice.

Coach Stenger divided the group of us into offense and defense and put us with the JV squad. I was put on defense. I didn’t know how he was dividing us up because we didn’t do any specific drills to determine our offensive or defensive skills.

Those of us from Coach Stenger’s group stood out because we weren’t wearing the nice green practice jerseys that the JV players had on or the incredible gold practice jerseys that the varsity players were wearing. We all were wearing plain old, dirty white jerseys. The JV offense was the first to play against the varsity defense. I was lucky to be with the defensive squad, so at least I could watch first and try to learn something before I went out there to get killed. Eric was on the field playing quarterback in his white jersey, and every time he touched the ball, the varsity defense ran over him, usually leaving him flat on his back.

“Switch!” someone yelled on the sideline. Both units came off the field. It was time for me to get in there, or at least that is what I thought. I stood on the sidelines waiting for my chance, waiting for the coach to put me in. Fifteen minutes had gone by and I still was standing on the sideline. I guess I should have expected this. It was my first day and the rest of our group had been practicing for a week already, if not longer.

“Keller!” shouted Coach Stenger. “Get out there and play middle linebacker.”

I ran onto the field. My big helmet bounced around, making it hard to always see. I had no idea where I was supposed to stand to play middle linebacker. After three years of football, I still had very little knowledge of the game. I stood in the center and waited, hoping I was close to the right spot.

“Hut, hut, set, hike,” the varsity quarterback yelled. He dropped back and disappeared behind the enormous wall of guys protecting him. Then, out of nowhere, I was hit in the head and knocked to the ground. My helmet popped off immediately. Several hands helped me up; one handed me my helmet.

One guy said, “Don’t worry about that. They’ve been doing that to us for the last twenty minutes.” I looked over at the varsity players.

“Man, I didn’t see him until I was running over him. They suck!” I recognized who was speaking. It was the tall blond from the Cougar Football billboards. He had his helmet off, showing them how he had knocked me to the ground and using his own helmet to show how mine came off. They were all laughing with him, at me. My body started to become tense; my muscles started to seize. I could feel my muscles pushing and pulling against each other, and then acid erupted in my stomach, sending an intense bitter taste to the back of my throat. My lungs seized and I coughed, gasping for air.

“Okay, let’s do it again!” a coach yelled.

Instead of getting sick from the taste, it made me even angrier than I already was. Somewhere in my stomach was a burning sensation, a fire of sorts. It was like nothing I had ever experienced. My heart was pounding so loudly I could barely hear anything around me. Thump, thump, thump. I became very focused. The new sensation in me stopped. Now, all I wanted to do was go after that billboard boy and hurt him for embarrassing me like that.

“Set, fox, 18, set, hike,” he yelled and then disappeared again. My muscles tightened so hard, they felt like they were going to pull away from my bones. I couldn’t see him, but I knew he was there, right in front of me. I saw a small opening between two of his bodyguards.

I lunged through the hole with such quickness that neither of them moved. He was in my sight. I was moving so fast that he didn’t have time to react. I hit him with all of my strength, drove him to the ground, and ran back to where we huddled up before the play. Green jerseys swarmed all over me, jumping up and down, yelling.

“Varsity on the line. You owe me two suicides for that hit Oliver took,” Coach Miller yelled.

I jogged over with the rest of the JV squad. Everyone was hitting me on the helmet saying, “Good job! Nice hit!” Coach Stenger gave me a high five. The other coach walked over to us.

“Well, I’m glad Joy called me yesterday, Keller. Great hit. Okay men, good job! Take a knee and watch varsity run; then hit the showers. Good practice.”

The bitter taste of acid still lingered and my muscles ached.

We watched varsity run their suicides. When they were finished, we all headed toward the lockers. I jogged over to the white trailer to take off my equipment.

I was so tired that it was hard to take off the oversized equipment. I pulled my shoulder pads and jersey off at the same time. There standing in front of me, blocking out the sun, was a winded Oliver. I felt like I was in
Jack and the Beanstalk
, and I was Jack staring up at the giant.

“Next time,” he poked me, “it won’t be that easy, JV runt.” He pushed past me, and the newfound fire inside me burned red-hot.

SPECTATORS

CHAPTER SIX

“K
eller, nice tackle,” Coach Hoff yelled from the sideline. They must have seen something in me they liked because I made the JV team after only one day of tryouts. Eric says it’s because I flattened Oliver. It must have been, because running the sideline during tryouts wouldn’t impress anyone. Eric also made the team but swears his dad paid Coach Hoff.

“Set, hut, hut, hike,” Eric yelled from across the line of guys. Eric got the ball and dropped back to throw it. I ran through the JV guys like they were stuck in mud and hit Eric square in the numbers before he could do anything. The ball went flying out of his arms and he hit the dry, hard field with a thud.

“I don’t care how much my dad paid Coach Hoff; he should have cut me because getting hit by you in every practice sucks.” Eric was slow to get up. I helped him the rest of the way up.

“Good job, men. Hit the showers,” Coach Hoff yelled. I had been getting a lot more playing time over the last couple of weeks. I still had no idea what all of the plays were or where to stand on the field, but they kept putting me out there. For the last three years of football, I had never stepped onto the field to do anything other than drills, but now I was part of the team. I had changed—well, not physically, but on the inside. When Oliver laughed at me, it did something to me. It took everything in me to control it at times, especially during practice.

We jogged to the locker rooms. We were on Practice Field Two. It was a lot smaller than Practice Field One, which was the field that varsity used for practice. It wasn’t dry like ours was. Their practice field was watered daily, and the lush green grass was nicely groomed with fresh lines painted on it every morning. Every day we had to jog by it to get back to the lockers to change. The three bleachers along the varsity practice field were always filled. It was unbelievable that people would show up on these hot days to watch a football practice—not even a game, a practice. I was on the team, and I wished that I didn’t have to be out in the sun, in the scorching August heat. People took pictures, and there was always at least one news crew filming the practice. Wow, this town needed to get a life. We had just jogged past the bleachers when Coach Miller called me over. Eric was next to me and pushed me in the direction of Coach Miller. “You are busted, Keller,” he said, running on.

Coach Miller was an imposing figure. For a man in his sixties, he looked like he could play pro football. He was watching the varsity team practice. I jogged up next to him.