The Fast and the Furriest by Andy Behrens Read Free Book Online Page A

ten-year-old. Thisbrought more unwelcome calls of “Hustle!” and “C’mon, new meat!” Sweat stung Kevin’s eyes. He was breathing hard, but all he’d really done was run a warm-up lap (badly).
    The campers were soon divided into their teams. An assistant coach draped his arm around Kevin as they crossed the field.
    “Glad you joined us, Pugh. I’m Coach Zalenski. You can call me Coach Z—everyone does. And
that
”
—
he gestured toward the whistler—“is Coach Hayden Glussman, one of the most successful coaches in Public League football. You’re not allowed to call him Coach G. No one does.”
    Coach Z extended his hand for a fist pound, and Kevin obliged.
    “Sorry I blew that whole bison-are-tough thing.”
    “No problem, Pugh. You were very thorough in your response, I’ll give you that.”
    “So we’re playing games already?” asked Kevin. “I mean … it’s my first day. And I was led to believe this was a no-contact sort of camp.”
    Coach Z eyed him suspiciously as they walked.
    “I’m assuming you’d prefer to go full pads, full contact. But no, Pugh, we’re not allowed to hit here. It’s an insurance thing. We play flag football.”
    He handed Kevin a grimy belt that presumably used to be white, but had turned the exact color ofchicken nuggets. Two long yellow strips were affixed to the belt with Velcro. These were the flags. Coach Z bent low and whispered in Kevin’s ear.
    “If a little incidental contact occurs, Pugh, we’re not gonna call a penalty.”
    “You know,” began Kevin, “I actually dropped my cleats over …”
    But Coach Z had already sprinted off, and he’d swatted Kevin on the backside as he did. Butt-slapping was definitely
not
one of Kevin’s favorite sports traditions.
    Within minutes, and with zero instruction, Kevin was standing on the football field at Scherzer High School, preparing to play defense. Alex Cribbs, a sixth grader, was yelling at him.
    “End, Pugh!” He motioned toward the ball.
    “End what?” said Kevin, raising his hands. “I wasn’t even doing any—”
    “
Defensive
end, Pugh! Play defensive end—on the line! Over there!”
    Alex shoved him to an appropriate spot, then drifted back several feet.
    Kevin stood flat-footed while his teammates crouched, waiting for the play to begin. Coach Z clapped. Coach Glussman stood halfway up the bleachers, his arms folded across his chest. The whistle was in his mouth just in case someone needed to hustle.
    Brad Ainsworth Jr. seemed to have command of the opposing team’s offense. The team huddled around him, then clapped in unison, then approached the ball. Kevin’s teammates all struck serious-looking football poses, some bent at the waist, others kneeling.
    “Trips left, trips left!” screamed Alex. This startled Kevin. Alex raced over to the left side and continued to scream.
    Brad Junior stood at quarterback, a few feet behind the ball.
    “Down!”
Alex yelled, although nothing happened.
    “Set!”
Still nothing.
    Kevin stood there, half amused and half terrified. Everyone else on the defensive line squatted low.
    “Lightning, lightning!”
    But again, nothing happened. Brad eyed Kevin, then broke into a smile.
    “Scram eight-five-eight!”
barked Alex.
    Still no movement.
    “Pugh!” called Coach Z.
“Puuuuugh!”
    Kevin turned toward the sideline and saw the coach gesturing, but he had no idea what was being signaled.
    “Hut,
hut!
” yelled Brad.
    Suddenly everything moved—except Kevin. Linemen were rushing, receivers were sprinting, Alex was chasing, and Brad Junior was pitching the ball to a running back.
    Or not.
    “Fake!”
screamed two of Kevin’s teammates.
    “Pugh!”
screamed Coach Z.
    Brad spun, the ball still in his hands, and sprinted in Kevin’s direction.
    “
Move
, Pugh!” implored Coach Z.
    Kevin took a few choppy steps toward Brad Junior and noticed that his nemesis was still smiling. Briefly, Kevin became determined to catch him.
    “Come here, you