Soccer Duel by Matt Christopher Read Free Book Online Page B

in his step. He glared across at Turk Walters, but Turk wasn't looking at him.
    Play resumed, and Renny stayed back on defense, waiting for the action to flow his way. After a couple of missed shots, the ball was kicked out by the Crush's goalie, and now half a dozen players were headed right for Renny, with the ball up for grabs.
    Renny rushed out to kick it back the other way. He got there well before the onrushing players and laced into it, sending it toward the Crush goal.
    Renny stopped, and most of the other players turned around to follow the play. But one kept coming. Before Renny could brace himself, Turk Walters banged into him again. Renny was blasted backward by the blow. The back of his head thudded hard against the ground.
    Again, there was no whistle. The referee, following the play, had missed this foul, just as he'd missed the last one.
    Renny wanted to go over to the ref and complain. But that would just make Turk Walters think he was a wimp. No, Renny decided. He would take his revenge on the field!
    Abandoning his position, Renny ran forward to midfield and took control of the loose ball. Forgetting that he was supposed to be playing defense, he scooted forward with the ball right down the middle of the field. He outran everyone but two defenders, who stood their ground in front of him. One was Turk Walters.
    “Come on, punk, come on,” Turk beckoned him. “Try getting by me.”
    Renny kept coming. At the last moment, Turk rushed forward, yelling at the top of his lungs.
    Normally, Renny would have deked him and kept on going, shifting directions just enough to make Turk fall all over himself.
    But what Renny hadn't realized was just how much Turk had scared him with his threats the previous day — and with the first two dirty hits he'd laid on him today. With Turk coming at him, screaming, Renny froze, then panicked. He kicked the ball away and ducked to his left, curling over to avoid getting hit.
    Turk stopped just short of him, then laughed. “Chicken!” he said.
    Renny looked to see what had happened to the ball. It was being rushed back upfield by the Crush — right past his own abandoned defensive position!
    In no time, the goal was scored and it was 2-1 in favor of the Crush. “Good going, punk!” Turk said. “You just cost your, team a goal!” He laughed nastily. Renny heard it as he trotted back to his own sideline.
    “Coach, I —”
    “Sit down and take a rest, Renny,” Coach Mc-Master said. “You were supposed to be playing defense — what happened? Who told you to play center striker? And if you're gonna do that, at least take the shot! Don't pass it away to somebody who isn't there!”
    Coach had never talked to him like this before. Truth was, he hadn't had to, Renny realized.
    “You looked like you were afraid to get hit again,” the coach said. “You can't play afraid, Renny — this is a contact sport.”
    “He was fouling me, Coach!” Renny protested. “Twice he hit me when nobody was looking. That's how I hurt the knee!”
    The coach looked back at him soberly. “You're saying he hurt you deliberately?”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “Which kid?”
    “Number Eight,” Renny said. “Turk Walters.”
    “I'll say something to the ref at halftime,” the coach said. “Meanwhile, rest that knee. I'll put you in for the second half.”
    “But I need to get back in there —”
    Just then, another roar came from across the field as the Crush scored yet again.
    “Three-one. We're dead,” Jordan Woo said. “We are such toast.”
    “Shut up, Jordan!” Renny said, irritated more at himself than his teammate. “We've still got time to come back. You've got to believe, Jordan! You've got to believe!”
    Halftime came and went. The boys downed sports drinks, caught their breath, and gathered around their coach.
    “Look, just keep hanging in there,” Coach Mc-Master told his team. “We're only down by two goals. We're going to try to find Renny one on one, okay? I spoke to