bit?â
Normally when his dad asked him to play football, Bobby said no. But this time was different. Maybe, just maybe, a miracle would occur and he could learn enough not to humiliate himself during PE. It was a long shot, but anything was worth trying.
âSure, Dad, why not?â
Mr. Ellis-Chan lit up. âReally? Wow! All right then, letâs go!â
The targets and other things were still set up for Annieâs football drills, but Bobby was more interested in just throwing the ball and catching it. He knew the rules of the game pretty well. Bobby had watched football lots of times on TV with his father. Whenever someone got tackled, Bobby shut his eyes. He didnât like seeing people get hurt.
The last time his dad played professionally, Bobby had been six years old. When The Freezer got knocked down and didnât get up, both Bobby and his mother started crying.
Later, at the hospital, Bobby was still crying. He thought his father was going to die. But he didnât die. Instead, his knee was so busted that he would never play pro ball again. Bobby never told his dad, but he was happy when he heard the news. That meant he wouldnât get hurt anymore. Only, these days Annie was playing football and now Bobby worried about her, even though she was tougher than most boys.
Mr. Ellis-Chan lined up five footballs on the ground in front of him. âFirst, weâll practice catching. Iâll throw these to you one after the other. You just catch the ball, then drop it and catch the next one, okay?â
Bobby felt his body tense as he nodded. Five footballs meant that he could mess up five times in a row.
âIt might help if you open your eyes when I throw the ball to you,â Mr. Ellis-Chan suggested.
Bobby did his best to keep his eyes open as his father threw. Still, he missed almost every time. Once he did catch the ball, but it hurt when the pointy part hit his chest. Why donât they make footballs softer? he wondered.
They switched to throwing. âOkay, hold the ball like this,â his father said, showing Bobby what to do.
Bobby tried to imitate his dad, but the ball was too big for his hands. Plus, it never went very far when he threw it, and it certainly didnât have that same spin The Freezerâs or Annieâs throws had.
âYou just need more upper-body strength,â Mr. Ellis-Chan was saying. âPut more muscle into your throw, like this.â Effortlessly, the football sailed across the sky. âYouâll get there. Donât worry.â
But Bobby did worry. He had to get there by Monday.
Â
That night before bed, Mrs. Ellis-Chan came in to check on her son. âNew poster?â she asked.
Bobby nodded. He had just put up his autographed Troy Eagle poster on his wall â the one of Troy doing an aerial over the Grand Canyon.
âWhat shall we talk about tonight, Bobby?â his mother asked as she fluffed up his pillow and motioned for him to get into bed. As was their custom, they had a nightly talk about the universe, or rocks, or skateboarding. It was Bobbyâs job to decide, and he always picked interesting subjects.
âMom,â he began, âwhen do you think Iâll start growing?â He had been thinking about this a lot lately.
Mrs. Ellis-Chan took Bobbyâs hand in hers. âWell, I can feel you growing right now!â she exclaimed.
Bobby took his hand back. âNo, really, Mom. Iâm serious.â
His mother brushed the hair away from his eyes. âYes, I can tell you are, and that youâre not a little kid anymore.â Bobby nodded. He was happy his mother had noticed. âEveryone gets their growth spurts at different times. Youâll have yours soon enough. How tall are you compared to the other kids in your grade?â
âNot the smallest, but nowhere near the tallest,â he said. âDo you ever think Iâll ever be as big as