Crackback by John Coy Read Free Book Online Page B

my blitz. I still get a rush from hitting him that hard and causing the fumble. I wonder how he’s doing?
    One other scene: I’m at Kyra’s locker asking her to the dance. Did that happen today? I see a dark drain and watch myself swirl down. Why did I think she’d go with me? “I’m going with Josh Stillwell,” she says. “He’s the new quarterback, you know.”
    Not anymore, Kyra. You’re going to the dance with a guy on crutches.
    Mom and Martha are shooting hoops in the driveway Saturday morning. Mom shows Martha how to aim for the square on the backboard. Mom makes five in a row. She played in high school and still has a good shot. She’s tall and thin. I’m built more like her than Dad.
    I eat my cereal and look at the sports section. Underneath the headline “E AGLES L OSE A NOTHER QB” is a picture of Stillwell on the ground. Coach Sepolski says, “We have to dig down deep to see what we’re made of.” I don’t know about digging deep. What we need is a healthy quarterback.
    I go outside and call for the ball. Martha tosses it, and I launch a three pointer. Nothing but net.
    â€œNice shot,” she says.
    â€œHold your left hand still.” I demonstrate. “Your left hand just holds the ball. Push with your right hand. Hit the corner like Mom showed you, and it’ll go in every time.” I bank it in off the board.
    Martha makes two in a row and jumps up and down. “That helps, Miles.”
    Mom turns to me. “Your dad wasn’t happy after the game.”
    â€œYeah, we lost another quarterback.” My mind races. Is there anything else?
    â€œYour dad forgot some printer software. He’s coming by to pick it up.” Sounds like a warning. She didn’t tell him about the Blast, did she? Or did he find out about the party?
    Martha rebounds for me and I make three jumpers in a row. I wipe my face with my T-shirt. It’s already hot out.
    Dad pulls in the driveway, and it takes one second to realize he’s angry. He comes straight at me and seems bigger than his three hundred pounds. “That was a pisspoor performance last night.”
    â€œI know. Stillwell broke his leg in two places.”
    Mom and Martha pick up the ball and leave.
    â€œI’m not talking about Stillwell. I’m talking about you. You make one play and spend the rest of the game screwing around. What were you doing dancing on the sideline with Jones?” He’s pointing his finger in front of my face. “I was trying to cheer him up.”
    â€œThat’s not your job. You looked like a couple of morons. Do you have any idea who was sitting behind me watching that crap?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œTwo college recruiters, the guys who give scholarships. They liked that first play of yours, but after that you didn’t do a damn thing. Just pranced around the sideline. They noticed that, too.”
    I’m sure those scouts were watching Tyson, not me, but it’s better to stay quiet.
    â€œA college scholarship is worth a lot of money. I suppose you haven’t thought about how to pay for college.”
    Dad’s right. I haven’t thought about it.
    â€œWhen I played football, if we weren’t serious, we got our butts kicked. If I pulled a stunt like that, my dad would have whipped me good.”
    I never knew my grandpa. It’s hard for me to picture anyone whipping Dad.
    â€œAnd why did Sepolski have Stillwell in there in the fourth quarter?”
    â€œI don’t know.”
    â€œWhy the hell’s he calling that center screen?”
    â€œI don’t know. He didn’t ask me.”
    â€œThat’s the dumbest call he’s made yet. Up by twenty-eight and running a center screen. Getting your quarterback hurt.”
    I nod my head and avoid eye contact.
    â€œDon’t let me catch you doing that crap on the sideline again. Next time, I’ll come out of the