“What’re you smiling like that for, Mom?” he asked.
“Those cookies,” Mom confessed. Now she couldn’t contain herself from breaking out in a laugh. “If it’s the kind Corky’s crazy about, they’re raisin cookies!”
“Raisin? Oh, no!” cried Buzz, and dropped helplessly into a chair. “I hope they’re not raisin!”
But they were. Mrs. Marsh had made a whole panful of them. Her blue eyes twinkled merrily as she offered the cookies to Buzz.
“Take several, Corky,” she said. “They’re free.”
Buzz took one. “One’s enough. Thanks, Mrs. Marsh.”
“Oh, now, Corky. What’s come over you? Why, you’ve never settled for less than four or five. Come on. Take some more.”
Buzz looked up at Mrs. Marsh’s twinkling eyes, then reached up and took another one. “Thanks, Mrs. Marsh. Maybe I’ll have another after I finish these.”
“Of course, you will,” she said. She put the plate on the dining room table and covered it. “Well, Jerry said that you boys had a close game today.”
“We sure did,” said Buzz, and bit into the raisin cookie. He tried all he could not to show a face, because this raisin cookie tasted exactly the way he thought it would. Horrible.
“Did I sweeten it too much?” asked Mrs. Marsh, the smile fading momentarily from her lips.
“No. I think it’s just right,” said Buzz.
“Well, I thought you squinched a little,” said Mrs. Marsh. “It could be a little sweeter than usual. Wait. I’ll bring you a glass of milk. You’ll want something to wash it down with, anyway.”
“Oh, you needn’t bring me milk, Mrs. Marsh,” protested Buzz.
Almost in the same breath he wanted to add, But please do. Anything to wash away the horrible taste of these raisins!
He didn’t know how he managed to eat four raisin cookies. It was a good thing that Mrs. Marsh had offered him milk. Buzz thanked God for cows.
He left soon afterward, two cookies wrapped up in a piece of wax paper stuck inside his pocket. “Two for the road,” Mrs. Marsh had said they were.
Buzz had a better idea. Two for Corky, he thought to himself.
He was halfway home when he met Pete coming down the street.
“Hi, Corky,” greeted Pete. “Stopped at your house, but you weren’t home.”
“Naturally,” said Buzz. The remark came out gruffly, as if Buzz had spoken, not Corky. He quickly smiled. Pete was kind of on the dumb side, but so what? Everyone couldn’t be blessed with a lot of brains. “Where are you going, Pete?”
A happy smile crossed Pete’s face. “How’d you like to have an ice cream sundae? Or a soda?”
Buzz stared. “You mean you’ll… treat?”
“’Course!”
“Well…” Buzz laughed. “Why not?”
It just proved how much Pete liked Corky. And I bet that Corky’s treated him lots of times, too, thought Buzz. I’m sure learning things. Not only about Corky, but myself, too.
They entered the soda shop on the corner. Buzz ordered a vanilla ice cream soda and Pete ordered the same. Pete got to talking about the football game, and now and then Buzz put in a few words.
Something must be wrong with me, thought Buzz. I think I’m enjoying his company.
Someone came into the shop and plunked himself on the seat beside Buzz. It was Frosty Homan. With him was Tony Krebbs.
“Hello, guys,” greeted Frosty. “We’re just heading for the Tower. Why don’t you come with us?”
“I’ll go with you!” cried Pete.
“Okay. How about you, Corky?”
The Tower?
He had never been up in the Tower. It was the last place in the world he’d ever want to go!
9
I DON’T know,” Buzz said. “I’d better get home. We’re having supper soon.”
“Supper?” said Tony. “In the middle of the afternoon?”
Tony was exaggerating. But Buzz realized that it really wasn’t as late as he’d thought.
“Come on, Corky,” insisted Pete. “We haven’t been up in the Tower in a long time.”
Buzz knew that Corky had been up in the Tower at least a dozen times. He’d probably accept this invitation without hesitating a minute. In that case Buzz had better not offer any more excuses to get out of it or maybe one of the guys would get suspicious.
“Wait’ll I finish this soda,” he said.
He finished it in a couple of gulps, then spun on the stool and got off.
What if Dad, Corky, and Joan are driving down the street while we’re walking? he thought, as all four of the boys headed for the Tower. Our goose will surely be cooked then.
I should have given my glasses to Corky. All he’d have to do is put them on the moment he saw someone he knew. That would have solved everything. What a time to think of that now!
The Tower was located on a side street outside of town. It was situated on a hill and was about one hundred feet high. It was an old observation tower which had once been used to spot airplanes for civil defense. The paint on the cabin was nearly all peeled off now and the windows were broken.
Pete was the first to reach the steel ladder. He climbed it to the first narrow platform about twenty feet up, then started up the next ladder. After him went Tony, then Frosty, then… Buzz wanted to change his mind at the last minute. He looked up the topmost ladder and got scared clean through.
What if I get up there and get dizzy? What if I fall? He didn’t need a second guess to know what would happen to him if that happened.
But if he didn’t start climbing, the guys would get suspicious.
He put his foot on the first rung of the ladder and started to climb. He didn’t look down… only up. He tried not to think of how far the ground was below him.
At last he reached the top. He went through the door into the cabin, his heart pounding wildly.
He had made it. He had climbed up the Tower for the first time. He had broken the spell.
He saw the others standing along the wall, looking out over their small town of Kellsburg.
Look at that kid Pete Nettles. You’d think he’d be scared stiff up here one hundred feet in the air. But he stands there like a veteran. Height doesn’t bother him a bit.
Without his glasses, Buzz had a little difficulty picking out the various buildings he was familiar with. But far across town he could see the football field and next to it the baseball field. He could see the glass factory and trucks backing up and driving away from it. It was like looking at a toy city with real-life people in it.
Then the guys began recognizing cars and, in some cases, people. They made a game out of it. Buzz tried to see what he could do, too. But without his glasses it was almost impossible for him to recognize a soul. He made guesses. Whether he was right or wrong didn’t make any difference. He was having fun.
Then Pete shouted, “Hey, Corky, look!”
Pete was pointing downward and to the left of the Tower. Buzz looked. Suddenly he was overcome by a mixture of happiness and fear.
“It’s Dad!” he said. “I’d better go! See you later, guys!”
He ran to the door and opened it.
“So long, Corky!” said Pete.
Frosty and Tony said “So long,” too.
The first instant that Buzz looked down the ladder frightened him. He almost started to sway. He waited a moment till his head cleared, then started down. He reached bottom, then ran down the path to the street. Once he turned and waved to the boys, then ran on.
Home was a long way away. When he got tired of running he walked awhile. Then he ran again.
He burst into the house. There were Corky, Dad, Joan, and Mom in the living room… all looking at him. He stood there, looking back at them in silence. He knew — he just knew — that it was no secret any more what he and Corky had done this afternoon.
“Put on your glasses, Buzz,” said Dad seriously. “I want to make sure who I’m talking to.”
&nbs
p; Buzz’s face turned fire-hot. He went to his bedroom, got the glasses, and put them on.
“That’s better,” Dad said. “So you played football in Corky’s place, did you?”
Buzz nodded stiffly. He was looking directly at Dad, but from the corner of his eye he could see that a smile was playing on Joan’s lips and on Mom’s. Corky’s face was as sober as a dog’s.
“And you got away with it?”
Buzz nodded again.
“There was no harm done, Dad,” he said. And now that he had forced the first words out, he went on, “You know how bad Corky wanted to see that Giants-Bears game, Dad. This might be the only time in his life he’d have the chance to see two great football teams play. And the Giants are his favorites. There… there was no harm done, Dad. No one needs to know that it was me who played in the game today and not Corky. Not once did anyone suspect…”
“All right, all right,” interrupted Dad. “You pulled off a great job impersonating your brother. But just because you two look alike doesn’t mean that you can switch around your lives.”
He got off the chair, stuffed his hands hard into his pockets, and walked over to Buzz.
Buzz was scared stiff. He wasn’t sure what was coming now. Probably a good whacking on that spot where it did the most good.
“Buzz, I wasn’t too surprised when Corky confessed to me on the way home about this unbelievable switch you boys pulled,” Dad said. “I’m not surprised either that you pulled if off as neatly as you did, in spite of the fact that you’ve hardly ever played football before. I know you’re a pretty smart boy. And very clever, too. But you have let this smartness, this cleverness, get the better of you. You’ve twisted it to make it do wrong things. This time, by impersonating Corky on the football field, you went way out. And I mean you really went way out.”
Buzz nodded. He certainly had to agree with that.
The phone rang. Joan went to answer it.
Buzz sighed. He could breathe freely for a moment.
“Corky, it’s for you.”
Corky went over and picked up the receiver.
“Yes, this is Corky. Who? Dougie?” He listened awhile, open-mouthed. “I told you that? When? Oh… oh!”
Buzz stared at him. Dougie Byrd! He remembered seeing Dougie at the field for a moment — that one moment he had forgotten that he wasn’t Corky — and asking Dougie to come over tonight to play chess.
“Okay, Dougie,” said Corky. “I’ll see you after supper. ’Bye.”
He hung up and stared at his brother with a dazed look.
10
THAT was Dougie Byrd!” exclaimed Corky. “He said that I had asked him to come over to play a game of chess!”
“Well… it was me who had asked him,” said Buzz sorrowfully. “I saw him at the game while I was running after a football. For a second I’d forgotten that I was supposed to be you.”
“I guess you did,” snapped Corky. “Well, when he comes, you play him. I’m not. He’d beat my pants off.”
He walked into the living room and dropped unhappily into a chair.
“So what if he beats your pants off?” said Buzz. “At least you know how to play the game. Play him one game. Then just tell him that you guess you didn’t get so much from those books as you thought.”
Corky stared at him. “What books?”
“The books that I borrowed from the library!” Buzz stamped out of the room and returned with the books on chess. “These!” he said. “I got them so that I could learn more about the game.”
“One moment, please, boys,” Dad said, raising his hand. “The whole problem could be solved very simply.”
Buzz and Corky turned to him as one. “How’s that, Dad?” asked Buzz.
“By just telling him the truth. That it was really you and not Corky who was playing football.”
“Oh, no, Dad!” cried Corky, jumping to his feet. “I can’t let him know that! The whole town of Kellsburg would hear about it in no time and then I’d really be kicked off the team!”
“But the truth will have to be known sometime, Corky,” said Dad.
“Maybe sometime, Dad,” said Corky. “But not now. Please. And not to Dougie. Give me a break, Dad! Don’t you want me to play football?”
“Okay, okay,” said Dad, lifting his hands in surrender. “We won’t tell Dougie. In that case, get this business straight about what Buzz told Dougie. Who did you tell him got the books, Buzz — you or Corky?”
Buzz thought a minute, then slowly explained exactly what had happened.
When it was clearly understood that Buzz had told Dougie that it was he who had gotten the books and that Corky had read them, too, Dad said, “Now let’s get back to where we were before that telephone call interrupted us.” He looked at Corky. “I know you said that you might get kicked off the team, Corky, but you admitted to me in the car that what you and Buzz did wasn’t right. What are you going to do about it?”
Corky and Buzz exchanged looks.
“Bob,” Mom broke in, “I’m about as guilty as the boys. I could have stopped Buzz from going to the game, but I didn’t. So I’m at fault, too.”
Dad stared at her with disbelief. “Don’t tell me you were in cahoots with the twins, Kate!”
“Not quite,” she said, a faint smile on her lips. “But after you and Corky had left for the game, out comes Buzz in Corky’s football uniform. Honestly, I really thought he was Corky for a minute.”
“And you let him —”
“I told him to get right back to his room and take that uniform off,” said Mom. “Right off he started explaining to me how much seeing the pro-football game meant to Corky. And… very effectively, too, I tell you… what it would mean to Corky if he didn’t show up at his football game. So… I gave in.”
Dad still looked stunned, as Mom, smiling, prepared to set the table for supper.
Dougie arrived after supper. He and Corky started playing chess, and in just four moves Dougie had one of Corky’s bishops trapped. He gave up a couple of pawns, then came up with another sparkling move that took Corky’s queen. He did some maneuvering with his own queen and rooks, and the next thing Corky knew he was checkmated.
Dougie’s freckles rolled into one as he smiled triumphantly at Corky.
“Guess the books didn’t help much, did they, Corky?”
“Guess not,” said Corky, rising from the table. “Play Buzz. Maybe they helped him.”
Buzz and Dougie won one game apiece, then agreed to play off the rubber at some other time.
Buzz did wish, though, that Corky would get more interested in chess. He would really enjoy playing with him. It wasn’t fun to play against poor competition.
That night, while they lay in their beds, Buzz told Corky about going up the Tower for the first time, and about the fun he had playing football. It was, he said, the best day he’d had in his whole life.
“The Tower?” Corky said. “You went up the Tower?”
“That’s right,” said Buzz. “With Pete, Frosty, and Tony. It wasn’t just playing the game, Corky, or climbing up in the Tower. It was the guys. The way they treated me, thinking that I was you. It… well, it’s really hard to; explain, Corky.”
He was quiet awhile. And then he said, “Corky, would… would you mind if I played in your place again next week?”
11
CORKY popped his head up like a jack-in-the-box and stared across at his brother. “Are you crazy?”
“No. I’m perfectly sane, Corky. But playing in that football game today made me feel like a different person.”
“Of course,” said Corky. “It made you feel like me.” He dropped his head back to the pillow and drew the covers up to his neck. “Go to sleep, Buzz. Tomorrow you’ll feel like yourself again.”
“I know,” said Buzz unhappily.
How could he make Corky understand what it meant to him to be with those guys?
“I don’t want to be like myself again,” he said after thinking a bit.
“That’s what I’m trying to say, Corky. Today I found out how good it felt to have guys treat me, well… like a human being. Like someone they were glad to have around.”
There was silence from Corky’s bed for a minute. “Did Goose Marsh invite you over to his house for cookies? Boy, those raisin cookies his mother makes! I think they’re even better —”
“Yes, he invited me over,” said Buzz, remembering the never-to-be-forgotten moment. “I think they’re horrible!”
Corky laughed. “I know. You hate raisin cookies!”
“Hate ’em is right.”
“And Pete Nettles… did he say anything to you?”
“You think he didn’t? He even bought me an ice cream soda! And I… I’ve always treated him like a dumb animal. That’s what I mean, Corky. You have the friends because you… well, you treat them like human beings, not like dumb animals.” A lump rose in his throat. “Oh, well, let’s go to sleep, Cork.”
Silence again. Buzz heard Corky’s soft breathing.
Then Corky said, “Buzz, Dad and Mom wouldn’t let you play in place of me. You saw how mad Dad was that you played today. He’d never let you do that again.”
“I know, Corky,” said Buzz. “Oh, well, forget it, Corky.”
Beginning the next day, Buzz was a changed person. At least he tried to act changed. Every time he saw Goose Marsh, Tony Krebbs, Jimmy Briggs, Pete Nettles, or anyone else he knew, he spoke with a friendlier attitude than he had ever used before.
The boys did not act differently toward him, though. He got discouraged and almost gave up.
Heck, he thought. They’re not trying to be friendly. They’re still acting like a bunch of jerks. Why should I go out of my way to try to be friendly to them?
“You can’t expect them to act different in a week,” said Corky, when Buzz told him about it. “Maybe they think you’re acting, or something. Maybe it would be a good idea if you joined a team, Buzz.”
The Counterfeit Tackle Page 4