Paralyzed by Jeff Rud Read Free Book Online

the
Times
after I threw the Sports section down. “Everything okay?” he asked.
    â€œThis is unreal,” I said. “They’re saying I’m going to be suspended.”
    Dad dropped his part of the paper and grabbed the Sports section. He quickly found the article, scanned it for a few seconds and then put it down. “Irresponsible,” he muttered. I could tell he was choked.
    â€œThis is a terrible piece of journalism,” he said. “It seems to be based on a rumor and not on any fact. I’m sure you won’t be suspended. You did nothing wrong. But I will call the
Times
today to complain. And I will call Coach Clark.”
    I nodded. The story was already in the newspaper, though. Even though it wasn’t true, people would assume it was. That was just the way things worked.
    The school day that followed was one of the strangest that I had ever experienced at Lincoln. It was a football Friday, so there was the usual hoopla. The Lions pep squad was selling “Defeat the Demons!” ribbons during the morning break. All the players, including me, were wearing our Lincoln jerseys to class.
    At lunchtime, there was the usual pep rally in the gym with a couple of hundred students sitting in the bleachers. The cheerleading team turned cartwheels and built human pyramids out on the hardwood. Coach Clark stepped to the microphone and talked about how important this game was to our season. I hardly heard a word he said.
    My mind was elsewhere. I wasn’t playing tonight, and it felt weird. Normally, on a game day, I would get more and more excited as each class ended, itching to get out on the field. Today, I just felt tired. I was sad I wouldn’t be playing, but in another way I was relieved. Everything about the day felt off.
    The last buzzer had just rung, and I was walking toward my locker when Jeff Stevens called out from behind. “Hey, Stick-’em. You ready to kick some serious Franklin butt?”
    I knew Jeff was just being friendly, but I didn’t want to hear that nickname. Not nowor ever. I didn’t want to talk to anybody about football, either.
    â€œNot really,” I said quietly. “I’m not playing tonight.”
    Jeff’s jaw fell and his blue eyes opened wide in surprise. “What are you talking about, dude?” he said. “That story in the paper this morning was bogus. Everybody knows that.”
    â€œI can’t play,” I repeated solemnly. “The coaches and my parents decided I wasn’t ready to suit up.”
    â€œNot ready?”Jeff said, dumbfounded. “What’s wrong with you? Are you injured?”
    â€œNot exactly.”
    â€œWhat does ‘not exactly’ mean?” Jeff said. “You’re acting weird, man.”
    I turned and faced Jeff, shaking my head. “Look, I can’t explain it, okay?” My voice was rising, and I felt my forehead growing hot. “It’s not my choice. You’ll have to ask Coach—and maybe your dad—why I’m not suiting up.”
    Jeff was really confused now. “My dad? What does my dad have to do with anything?”
    â€œI’m just not playing, okay?” I was really annoyed now, and my voice was breaking. “Good luck tonight.”
    â€œWhat do you mean, ‘good luck?’” Jeff said. “You’ll be there, right?”
    â€œI don’t know,” I said, backing away quickly down the hall. “It’s just too weird. I’ll talk to you later.”
    I had to get out of there, away from Jeff. I was getting too emotional and I couldn’t explain why. I wanted more than anything else to be with my teammates but I knew deep down that I wasn’t ready to play. And I wasn’t ready to tell them why.
    The six-block walk home seemed even stranger than the rest of the school day. Normally, on a football Friday, I stayed at school and ate a pre-game meal with the team in the cafeteria.