by Tim Green
Troy looked back at his friends. Tate and Nathan grinned at him and nodded their heads like broken puppets.
He nearly smiled, and he felt the knot loosen just a bit.
Two plays later, the light came on.
He felt a jolt, and the joy of seeing it, feeling it, of knowing what was going to happen, warmed him from the inside out. The strategic adjustments the Raiders had made in the locker room at halftime were suddenly clear.
He looked at his two friends. He grinned at them and pointed at his own head, nodding as hard as they had, then he looked up at the owner and touched his arm.
“Think you got something?” Mr. Langan asked.
“Oh, yeah,” Troy said. “I got it all.”
“Great! Let’s see it,” the owner said, and he signaled Troy’s mom to do her thing.
Troy told her it was a slant pass to the wide receiver on the weak side of the formation. She nodded and signaled in to Seth. She held up her left hand with four fingers splayed wide, their signal for the weak-side wide receiver, and made a diagonal slashing motion with her right hand for the slant. Seth quickly changed the defense, shouting and slapping the backside of one of his big linemen to get into the right position.
The Raiders snapped the ball. The Falcons’ strong safety blitzed the quarterback, who rushed his pass, and Seth hit the receiver running the slant with a blast that lifted him off his feet and sent the ball bouncing off the turf. The crowd exploded, and Mr. Langan slapped high fives with Troy and his mom.
It was so loud and Troy was so excited that Mr. Langan had to take him by the shoulders and turn him back to the field to watch for the next play. The yard marker said it was third down with five yards to go for a first. He saw another receiver run into the huddle and the tight end run off. He smiled and chuckled because it came to him so quickly and easily.
“Draw play,” he said to his mom. “Strong side.”
The Raiders broke their huddle and jogged to the line. His mom made a motion like she was scribbling with a pen to signal the “draw” play, then made a muscle with her right arm to signal strong side. Seth bounced on his toes as he shouted the change in the defense, and Troy was bouncing right along with him, literally jumping off the turf.
When the ball was snapped, Seth made a beeline for the strong side. Troy turned his shoulders and leaned, the same as Seth did as he slipped through a gap in the line. Then Troy dropped his hips and threw his arms around the air in front of him, just as Seth did the same to the runner, lifting him off his feet and driving him back to the turf. The crowd went wild. Intoxicated by the deafening thunder of applause, Troy leaped forward and ran halfway out onto the field as Seth came running off with a swarm of teammates around him. Seth wrapped his arms around Troy and lifted him in a bear hug, bounding off the field and mussing his hair and roaring all at the same time.
“You did it, buddy! You did it!” Seth screamed, setting Troy down beside his mom and ignoring the jostling smacks his teammates put on his shoulder pads and back.
The offense caught the excitement and the crowd kept it up too, despite the gaping lead that the Raiders had. The momentum was back with the Falcons. Josh Lock scrambled and threw rocket passes. Warrick Dunn darted, shook, and blasted his way down the field until they were in the end zone.
Seth was amazing. Even though he knew the plays with Troy calling them and his mom signaling them in, the excitement of what they were doing seemed to make him run faster and hit even harder. The Raiders could do nothing on offense. Every play they tried, inside runs, outside runs, short passes, or long passes, Seth and the Falcons’ defense were ready and waiting. After stopping the Raiders’ offense, Seth would run off the field with his fists raised and the crowd cheering him, and he would go right to Troy and slap high fives until Troy’s hand hurt and his cheeks were sore from grinning.
The Falcons’ offense, inspired by the devastating hits of their dominating defense, kept up their part of the bargain. They moved the ball up and down the field, almost at will. By the time the gun sounded, Atlanta had the win they so desperately needed, 40–34.
Seth’s final stats totaled seventeen tackles, two interceptions, and two quarterback sacks. When his teammates carried him off the field on their shoulders, he pointed at Troy, giving him a thumbs-up, and grinned like a crazy ghoul with the black rubber mouthpiece covering his top teeth.
Troy’s mom hugged him. Her laughter bubbled up around him, swirling with the cheers of the crowd and the hearty war cries of the enormous players. Nathan and Tate pounded him on the back. He was dizzy. It was louder than the lunchroom and happier than Christmas morning. It was a light-headed excitement unlike anything Troy had ever felt before.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
TROY’S MOM MADE HIM put on a shirt and tie when they went to see Mr. Langan in his office the next day before school. Troy stared out the bug’s window at the Falcons’ facility, tugged at the itchy collar, and yawned. His mom had let him stay up late to watch the halftime show of the Sunday Night Football game. She, Seth, and Troy all sat there together on their couch, giddy at seeing Seth’s spectacular replays as the highlight of the show. When the announcers raved about how the Falcons had overcome their first-half flop with a nearly flawless performance after halftime, Seth had crowed, “That’s my man!” and made Troy blush.
As they pulled up to the guard shack at the Falcons’ facility, Troy asked, “What do you think he’s going to say?”
His mom just waved to the guard and shook her head.
The owner was wearing a suit. He stood up behind his desk and offered them a drink, and then the two chairs facing his desk, before he sat back down.
“What you did yesterday was great,” he said to Troy, “and I’d love it if you could go through the rest of the season with us. The only problem is people finding out about you, for a lot of reasons, not the least of which would be other teams finding out. Carl Krock was a problem, but I think I’ve got that worked out. If he ever wants to coach again after what he did to that reporter yesterday, he’s going to need a recommendation from me and he knows it.
“But what about you, and what about your friends?”
“They won’t tell,” Troy said. “My mom told them the same thing yesterday—that we shouldn’t talk about it. And why would I?”
His mom nodded.
Mr. Langan pondered a moment, then said, “What would you think if I hired you for the rest of the season as a ball boy? That way you could be on the sideline without attracting attention.”
Troy’s heart seemed to swell, and his head swam.
“That would be great,” he said.
“I can’t see paying you fifty dollars a game, though,” Mr. Langan said, staring hard at him. “I was thinking ten thousand.”
Troy blinked.
“A game,” the owner said.
His mom gasped and put her hand to her chest.
“Mr. Langan,” she said.
He held up his hand. “I imagine Troy will want to go to college one day.”
“On a scholarship,” Troy said.
“Well, you’ll figure out something.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
TROY DID HIS THING, and the Falcons won their next two games. The team was ecstatic; so were the fans. People were starting to talk playoffs now, and Troy’s mom opened a bank account for him that had twenty thousand dollars in it. More, she said, than she’d ever seen in one place at one time. Troy thought the thrill would last forever, but it didn’t, and he tried to put his finger on just why not.
He thought maybe it was because he wanted so badly to tell Jamie Renfro that it was him and Seth Halloway together who were turning the season around for the Falcons. But he was pretty happy just because their winning had put an end to Jamie’s stupid song and dance about how bad the team was. He thought maybe it was because he had to keep the fact that he was a football genius a secret. But the people who mattered most knew. Tate. Nathan. His mom. Gramp. And Seth.
&nb
sp; Then it hit him. Even though being a part of his favorite NFL team was a dream come true, there was another dream that hadn’t. It was his own team, the Duluth Tigers. He was still sitting on the bench Saturday afternoons, watching while Jamie played quarterback. Troy didn’t tell anyone, though. He figured one dream was more than most people ever got. Still, it bothered him.
One thing that didn’t bother him was his mom and Seth going out to dinner or the movies a couple times a week. It was fun to see his mom getting ready, then see Seth blush as he came through the door. Then, one evening after dinner, Seth showed up at the house unannounced.
Troy was already dressed for football practice and throwing balls at the tire when the big H2 rumbled up the drive and shuddered to a halt. Seth got out slowly and limped across the dirt.
“What’s it feel like?” Troy asked.
“What?” Seth said.
“Your body,” Troy said, nodding toward his knees. “After a game.”
Seth stopped and looked down at his legs. “Like someone took a hammer and hit every bone, joint, and muscle in your body. That’s about it.”
“I guess the money makes it worth it,” Troy said.
“The money’s good,” Seth said. “I’m not going to pretend. But that’s not why you play. You don’t do this to yourself for the money.”
Seth pointed at the golf ball–size welt on his forearm.
“It’s a dream,” Seth said. “It was my dream, anyway. And, not to sound like an old man, but in this world it seems like you don’t get to have too many dreams come true. So you ice down and you take your medicine and you keep living it.”
Troy nodded. He was quiet for a minute, then he said, “Hey, Seth, what about when you first got the dream? Did it seem like, after a while, you wanted more?”
Seth gave him a funny smile and said, “Some people are driven. That’s just how they’re wired. They drive for one thing, then they get it and they need to drive for something new. Yeah, I know exactly what you mean.”
The screen door swung open and his mom came out. She was wiping her hands on a dish towel.
“Mean what?” she asked.
“Just talking about dreams,” Seth said. “Speaking of which, can I talk to you for a minute?”
“I was just going to take Troy to football practice,” she said. “I was thinking about sticking around and watching a little, to see how bad this Jamie Renfro really is.”
“He sucks,” Troy said.
“Troy,” his mom said.
“Well,” Troy said, shrugging, “he does.”
“Let’s talk nice,” she said.
“Okay,” Troy said, sounding prim and proper. “He’s awfully bad.”
“I guess that’s better,” she said.
“Well?” Seth said.
Troy noticed for the first time that in Seth’s hand was some kind of envelope. Troy’s mom glanced at it and asked Seth if he wanted something to drink.
“Coke, if you got one,” he said.
Troy let them go, then quietly opened the screen door and slipped inside. Something was up. Quietly, he peeked into the kitchen.
His mom popped the tops off two bottles and set them on the table. Seth took a seat, and she sat down across from him.
He took a sip, then stared at the Coke bottle for a minute, smiling stupidly.
“I…well,” Seth said, putting the envelope on the table and pushing it across to her, “I don’t really know how to ask you, but next is our bye week. We’ve got four days off, and I was thinking about getting away. Bermuda’s supposed to be this great place. There’s a beach with pink sand and this lighthouse where you have tea, and the water’s as blue as a blue crayon, and…”
Troy’s mom stared down at the envelope. Seth pushed it farther toward her before returning his hands and his eyes to the pale green Coke bottle, which he slowly rotated in its place.
His mom opened the envelope and removed a stack of papers. She examined the one on top.
“First class to Bermuda,” she said, her voice quavering. “Seth, I can’t.”
She stuffed the papers back into the envelope and pushed it back across the table.
“It’s not that I wouldn’t like to,” she said quietly. “I’m flattered, but I can’t. I’m a mother, and I can’t really be more than that right now. Troy needs me. And you know what? Honestly? I need him.”
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
TROY WANTED TO SHOUT, but he bit into his cheek and clenched his hands.
Seth’s face turned dark red. He took a deep breath and let it out through his nose as he nodded his head. He got up from the table without looking at her.
“Thanks for the Coke,” he said.
“The tickets,” she said, picking up the envelope and holding it out toward him.
Seth stopped and looked at it.
“It’s all paid for,” he said. “I can’t get my money back, and the truth is, if I can’t go with you, well, I’ve got work to do around the house anyway.
“We can still work together, right?” Seth said. “I mean, Troy and the whole football genius thing? I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”
“Of course we can,” his mom said quietly.
Seth nodded, gave her a quick smile, and headed for the door. Troy darted through the living room, down the little hallway, and around the corner. When he heard the screen door bang shut, he went into the kitchen through the other way.
His mom sat staring at the envelope on the table. She took a deep breath and let it out slow.
In a soft voice, Troy said, “What happened, Mom?”
“Nothing, honey,” she said lightly, but without looking at him.
“You should go, Mom,” he said. “I don’t want to be the reason you aren’t happy. I can stay with Gramp, you know.”
She stared at him for a moment, then said, “Honey, if I don’t have you, I don’t have anything. You’re my life, Troy. I’d die for you.”
She stood up, took the envelope, and slapped it against her leg. It burst open, spilling its contents onto the kitchen floor.
“Darn it,” she said, kneeling down to clean up the mess.
One of the tickets had slipped halfway under the stove. Troy knelt down in his football gear and reached for it. When he pulled it out, the cover caught the metal lip underneath the stove, tearing the cover free from the ticket.
Troy looked down at the ticket and his heart jumped. He blinked and shook his head and blinked again. He held the ticket up closer to his face: TROY WHITE.
“Mom,” Troy said, holding it out to her. “This is for me. He means me, too.”
“You?” she said, taking it and examining the name.
She rifled through the mess of papers in her own hand.
“Me,” she said. “Seth. You. A room for us and a room for him…Seth.”
Outside, the H2’s engine roared to life.
“Seth!” she shouted, jumping to her feet and racing for the door.
Troy jogged after her, amazed at how fast she was. The H2 was turning the bend. Troy’s mom leaped from the porch and took off in a sprint, chasing the dusty cloud down the winding drive, yelling his name at the top of her lungs until the H2’s taillights glowed and the truck pulled to a stop.
His mom waved her hand in front of her face, coughing and sputtering as she rapped her knuckles on the driver’s-side window. Troy caught up to her and saw Seth’s long face as he rolled down the window.
“Yeah?” he said.
“You mean all three of us?” his mom said, her voice pitched high with excitement. “Troy too? To Bermuda? All of us?”
Seth’s face broke out in a giant smile.
“Of course,” he said, glancing at Troy and nodding like an idiot. “That’s what I said.”
“No,” she said, “you didn’t. You didn’t say all three of us.”
“I didn’t?” he said. “Well, I got three tickets.”
“I know,” she said, jumping up onto the running board. �
�I know that.”
His mom leaned into the window. She wrapped her arms around Seth Halloway’s neck, laughing, and kissed him on the lips.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
TROY WAS RIDING HIGH up in the passenger seat of Seth’s H2 as it pulled into the parking lot and rumbled to a stop facing the practice field. He looked back at his mom and smiled, but was disappointed when he saw that the team was already gathered around the coaches at the far side of the field. He had hoped Jamie would see them arrive and him hopping out of Seth’s big truck.
He sighed and pressed his lips together in a frown, then kissed his mom before he hopped down, thanked Seth for the ride, and waved good-bye without looking back. He ran across the field to his team and kneeled between Tate and Nathan.
“Troy, it’s real nice of you to join us,” Coach Renfro said, sneering at his watch. “Especially since you’re the new Falcons ball boy and the team rules don’t apply to you anymore.
“Now that everyone is here,” Coach Renfro added, “I have an announcement to make.”
Coach Renfro’s face scrunched up and got dark. He took the whistle off his neck and began to spin it around on his finger. His voice got louder and louder with each word he spoke.
“It seems some parents aren’t very happy with my coaching style,” he said, glaring at Troy, Nathan, and Tate. “It seems some people think it’s more important that I baby some people than win games. We’re out of the playoffs, and that doesn’t matter to some people.
“Some people are more concerned with me yelling at their little babies!” he shouted, throwing his whistle down and stamping on it. Then he got quiet. “Some people went to the league president and complained, and they finally came up with their little pansy verdict. So I’m not coaching this week’s game.”