by Tim Green
Troy lathered up and looked around for someone or someones who put out the chairs, kept the pool sparkling clean, and trimmed the dark green shrubs. A brown-skinned man with a dark cap of hair disappeared around one corner of the house.
When they got to the beach, Troy was amazed to see two black-and-red WaveRunners on a kind of trailer with overblown white tires.
“Totally cool.” Troy’s excitement at the sight of the machines overcame the funk of jealousy. “Can we use them?”
“Thane says that’s what they’re for.” Ty handed him a soda, uncapping his and taking a slug before setting it down on one of the chairs. “Come on, help me.”
Ty passed out life vests slung from the handles of the machines. Troy tossed his football under a chair, put his on, then grabbed half of the long T handle of the trailer as Ty raised it out of the sand. Together they wheeled the WaveRunners toward the surf.
Troy couldn’t believe how easy it was. The machines were huge, but the design of the cart or trailer, or whatever it was, was so perfect that it took less than two minutes to have the WaveRunners bobbing in the light surf.
“Hop on.” Ty pushed the cart back up into the sand, then climbed onto one machine, grabbing the handles before he stepped up and slung his other leg over as if he was mounting a horse.
Troy got on his own machine and did as Ty instructed him, clipping a curly plastic cord to his vest so the key would yank out and stop the motor if he fell off. With the push of a button, the machine revved to life. One squeeze of his thumb and he was surging ahead, through the light waves, then up and flying, flying, behind Ty.
Troy’s thumb was sore by the end of the day and his hair was salty and windblown straight back. The football saw no action until Troy scooped it up and tossed it into the air on their way up to the house for dinner. The man Troy had seen before along with a woman who seemed to be his wife served them grilled chicken with rice and curried vegetables out on a linen-covered table on the deck. The sky showed off a rainbow of colors as it wound its way into night.
Troy was full and tired as they rode back toward Summit. Ty alternated between “Angry Birds” on his iPad and texting. Troy smiled because he bet he knew who Ty kept texting—Tate—but Troy kept quiet. He was happy just to bump along and relive the afternoon out on the water. With Ty on the same practice and game schedule, they’d be getting away to the beach house pretty regularly, and Troy couldn’t wait. He wondered if Tate would ride with him or Ty on the WaveRunners. That made him grin. He’d almost forgotten about football when Thane guided the Escalade off the highway at the Summit exit and Seth started talking about his spread offense.
Troy listened as the two of them went back and forth, discussing how certain patterns defeated certain defensive coverages. Troy felt the excitement building up inside him because he just knew where Seth was headed with all this football talk. When Thane turned onto Cedar Street, Seth cleared his throat.
“So, Thane,” Seth said, “now that I’m locked in as the coach at Summit, I plan on getting the team going right away. That way the kids will know those patterns like their own cell phone numbers.”
“Nice,” Thane said.
The energy in the truck suddenly amped up. Ty must have sensed it, because he stopped playing to listen. Troy sat up straight, and so did his mom.
“For sure,” Seth said. “So . . . do you think you’ll be getting Ty enrolled?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
THANE PULLED INTO THE driveway, put the truck in park, and took a deep breath before he turned to Seth. “Look, I’m really happy for you guys, and I know it’s going to turn out great, but Ty and I have been talking . . .”
Troy looked over, straining his eyes to read Ty’s face. His stomach sank when Ty looked down.
“We’re gonna pass.” Thane clasped his hands, laid them into his lap like an unread book, and looked directly at Seth. “I’m sorry.”
Troy tried to cap his fury, but the lid had already been sprung. “I’m supposed to help your team win? You do this to us and I’m supposed to tell you what the defenses are doing so you can go to the Super Bowl, and you won’t even let Ty be on our team?”
Troy could see two things immediately. First, that his outburst had shocked his mom so much she didn’t know what to say, and second, that everyone else was embarrassed. Troy folded his arms across his chest, ready to stand by his words.
Ty looked up and blinked, as if he was innocent.
Troy tried to keep quiet, but he burned with rage and he got in Ty’s face. “Like you didn’t know, right? Let’s go out on the WaveRunners . . . buddy . . . cousin. Let’s have a good time. Oh, by the way, you don’t mind if I ruin your football season, right?
“Thanks a lot, Ty. Nice friend. Did you text this to Tate?”
“Troy, that’s enough!” Troy’s mom gripped his neck in the vise of her fingers and drew him away.
“It’s a lot of things.” Thane turned around in his seat, keeping his voice calm and quiet. “Let’s not get crazy. St. Stephen’s was always the plan. Things changed and now they’re all mixed up. Ty’s had a lot of upheaval. Things aren’t always as simple as we’d like them to be.”
Thane looked around. “Hey, we’re still family. We can still do things like today. We should.”
Seth held out a hand for Thane to shake. “I understand completely. Troy will, too. Sometimes he’s a hothead.”
Everyone looked at Troy. His mind was spinning from all the reasons Ty should be in Summit: their friendship, spending more time around Tate—if that was as important as it seemed—their chemistry on the field, and most of all how if Troy had Chuku and Ty to throw deep to, no team could double-cover them. Troy’s mom sharpened her already furious eyes and squeezed the blood from her lips, setting her head on a crooked angle toward him and prompting him to say the right thing.
Troy held out a hand to Ty. “Sure. I understand. Maybe next year something will work out.”
The look Ty gave him—one of sorrow, pain, and disappointment—flooded Troy with guilt, but only for an instant.
“Traitor,” Troy whispered. He couldn’t stand to even look at Thane as he slipped out of the truck.
Troy’s mom, on the other hand, leaned forward and gave Thane a kiss on the cheek, whispering something Troy couldn’t hear before she got out on the other side.
Ty looked up, his face heavy with shame, and gave Troy a fleeting glance before climbing into the front seat. Troy figured he wasn’t the only one affected by the news, because they all stood there in the silent darkness watching the enormous truck swim up the street until it glimmered one final time and disappeared in the murk.
“Well.” Seth tossed that single word out into the night and let it hang there.
That’s when Troy’s phone rang.
Troy fished it from his pocket and read the glowing screen. “It’s Chuku.”
“Hey, maybe we’ll get lucky.” Seth put a hand on Troy’s shoulder. “One out of two wouldn’t be bad.”
Troy’s fingers trembled and he fumbled with the phone before he answered the call.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“HEY, DAWG.” TROY COULDN’T read Chuku’s voice. He knew that whatever Chuku said next might determine the success or failure of the football season, maybe even have a lasting effect on Troy’s entire career.
Troy took a breath, trying to sound casual. “Hey. What’s up?”
“Man, you know that apartment you had us go look at?” Chuku paused for a moment that lasted a lifetime. “We loved it! Dawg, my dad’s registering me at school tomorrow and we’re moving in on Thursday! You, me, and chicken legs are gonna kill this New Jersey high school football thing. Rat-a-tat-tat, like a machine gun.”
Troy laughed. “You jerk. You scared me. But . . .”
“But what? You can’t kid a kidder. Don’t give me that ‘but’ stuff.”
“Ty’s not coming.”
Chuku went silent.
“Chuku? You there?”
Chuku clucked his tongue. “That just means more touchdowns for me, dawg. I like little chicken legs, don’t get me wrong, but you and me? Never fear, Chuku’s here. We gotta think of a name for ourselves, like the dynamic duo or something. Killer Kombo, you know, combo with a k. I like that. All right, well, all that later. I gotta go.”
“You want some help on Thursday? Moving in?”
“Sure. That’s great.”
“I’ll bring Tate.”
“Who’s he?”
“He’s a she. You’ll like her. Everybody likes Tate.”
“Is she pretty?”
“Yeah, but that’s not what I mean. She’s like one of the guys.”
“And she’s pretty? You’re right. I gotta meet Tate.”
“Well, you will on Thursday.” Troy hung up and grinned, and they all moved inside, uplifted by a bit of good news.
“Meant to be,” his mom said. “And nice that you volunteered to help them get moved in. I’m proud of you, Troy. You’re a good kid.”
Troy couldn’t help blushing, not for being a good kid, but because he had another reason for offering to help Chuku move in. He had a very big problem that he still needed to address, and helping Chuku just might give him the chance to fix it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
WHEN CHUKU MET TATE, he shook her hand and turned to Troy. “She’s kind of skinny.”
“She is standing right here.” Tate stamped her foot on the concrete sidewalk. “She likes people with manners.”
Chuku laughed. “Okay. I get it. You’re a firecracker. Skinny, but lots of pop. I like that. No hard feelings. Let’s start from the start.”
Chuku held out his hand again. They shook, and smiled.
Troy and Tate helped unload the big U-Haul van Chuku and his dad had driven up from Baltimore. When they finished, Chuku’s dad dropped them at the Summit Diner and gave them his credit card to get some burgers and milk shakes while he headed out to a doctor’s appointment. They watched the big white Mercedes cruise away before going inside and taking seats in a red leather booth next to the window.
Chuku picked up a menu, then looked over the top. “I appreciate you dawgs coming around.”
“You got something better you can call me than a ‘dawg’?” Tate scowled.
“Well, it means friend,” Chuku said.
“Friend is nice.” Tate smiled.
Chuku sat up straight and spoke in a British accent. “I appreciate you ‘friends’ coming around. Cheerio.”
Tate nodded as if that was okay with her. “You guys didn’t have all that much stuff, anyway. It was easy.”
“Yeah . . . we’ve moved a couple of times before,” Chuku said, before dropping his voice. “After my mom left.”
Troy could tell by the look on Tate’s face that she was thinking of her dad, and that made him think of his own dad, now an orange-haired pirate.
No one said anything until the waitress took their order and swished away.
Troy felt that the time was right. “Hey, Chuku, I was thinking. I got a deal for you.”
“Deal?”
“That Helena concert is next Wednesday, right?”
“And I can’t wait.” Chuku grinned.
“You going with your dad?” Troy asked.
“No, I was just gonna drive myself. Didn’t you know you can get a driver’s license in New Jersey when you’re thirteen?”
“Funny,” Troy said, “but I was thinking . . . you’ve got four tickets. Maybe Tate and I could go with you.”
Chuku looked suspiciously at Troy, then screwed up his face. “That why you wanted me to come here? That why you helped? Tickets?”
“No.” Troy opened his hands and waved them at Chuku. “I want you here to catch touchdown passes. I’m not asking for them for free. They’re your tickets. I’m not asking for them back, not even two of them. You won them, fair and square.”
“You want to buy back two tickets? They’re, like, at least a thousand dollars each, maybe two.”
“I was thinking more like a trade.”
“Trade for what?” Chuku asked.
“Who’s your favorite Falcons player?”
“Falcons? Julio Jones. Why?”
“You collect jerseys, right? How about a signed Julio Jones game-worn jersey for those two tickets?”
“How? Seth Halloway?”
Troy nodded. “Coach Halloway, now.”
“You like Helena that much?” Chuku asked.
“I like Helena, but it’s more about being there. Mr. Cole is not a guy I want to make mad. He gave me the tickets so I could go, and I don’t think he’d be too happy about me gambling them away.”
Chuku was thinking. “How about Julio Jones and Matt Ryan? Game-worn.”
“Deal.” Troy barely let the words get out of Chuku’s mouth. He knew Seth could get the jerseys for him easily and he reached across the table, shaking Chuku’s hand before his new friend could change his mind.
Troy’s brain was spinning fast. “Hey, this is all between us, okay? One thing you can’t do—either of you guys—is tell Seth. Okay?”
Troy stared at them both, wondering why the color suddenly drained from their faces. Then Troy felt a hand on his shoulder. He spun his head around and Seth sat down next to him in the booth.
“Tell me what?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
“SETH, WHAT ARE YOU doing here?” Troy asked.
“I was driving by and saw you two clowns and this lovely young lady in the window.” Seth winked at Tate before he took one of Troy’s French fries and dipped it in ketchup. “Tell me what?”
Slick as a snake, Troy cleared his throat and said, “Well, it was supposed to be a surprise, but we came up with a nickname.”
“Nickname?” Seth raised his eyebrows and nicked another one of Troy’s French fries. “For what?”
“Us.” Troy nodded at Chuku, his mind spinning even faster. “‘Killer Kombo.’ Combo with a k. You know, like the Fab Five, or the Fun Bunch, or the Steel Curtain.”
Seth ate another fry. “Hmm, usually people wait until they’ve done something pretty spectacular before they start giving themselves nicknames.”
“We’re not short on confidence.” Troy grinned, happy to see Chuku nodding in agreement.
“Well,” Seth said, chewing, “I guess it was Muhammad Ali who said, ‘It ain’t bragging if you can back it up,’ or was that Deion Sanders? One of them. Maybe both.”
“Oh, we’ll back it up.” Troy’s grin broadened, more because he’d successfully diverted Seth’s attention than because he loved the nickname.
Seth pointed at Chuku. “You know, your dad used to play on a defense in college they called the Brick Wall.”
Chuku nodded. “I heard about that. You knew my dad?”
“Best linebacker Baylor ever had.” Seth held out a fist and Chuku bumped it. “How about after lunch, we all head over to the field and get started on some patterns? Tate, you can run a few for us, too, right?”
Troy spoke up quickly before Chuku could make a wisecrack. “Tate was the kicker on our state championship junior league team in Georgia. You should have seen her tackle people on kickoffs.”
Tate slurped her milk shake and Chuku tilted his head to consider her.
After they ate lunch and Chuku called his dad to let him know Seth was driving them back, they got into Seth’s truck, stopping at a convenience store on their way to grab a few bottles of Gatorade. Troy and Chuku also grabbed a few snacks, even though they’d just eaten, and opened the packages in Seth’s backseat.
“No crumbs.” Seth glanced at them in the rearview mirror.
Chuku held a cheese Dorito over the seat, offering it to Tate.
“Thank you,” she said, crunching it carefully.
“You guys won’t be eating like that if you want to make it to the big leagues,” Seth said into the mirror.
“I thought potatoes were a vegetable.” Troy munched on a Pringles Dill Pickle
potato chip.
“I don’t even know if potatoes are in those things,” Seth said. “They’re, like, salted fat.”
“You’re only young once.” Troy took another and shook a few out into the extended hands of his friends. “At least we are—young, that is.”
Seth pulled into the school parking lot and stopped the truck. “Very funny, wise guy. I hope you’re still laughing when you do that mile run tomorrow.”
Troy’s face fell. “What mile run?”
“I didn’t tell you?” Seth pretended to be surprised. “You and Chuku got your physical tests tomorrow to see if you can play varsity.”
“Are you serious?” Troy looked at Chuku to see if he was surprised, too.
“I was going to wait until tomorrow so you didn’t get all nervous about it.” Seth smiled. “But I’m getting so old, I was afraid I’d forget.”
“Wow,” Tate said, laughing as they got out of the truck. “That hurts. Remind me not to get on your bad side. Do they really have to take a test?”
“Yes,” Seth said, “seriously, and it is tomorrow.”
“I thought you just picked us,” Troy said, feeling stubborn.
“What do we have to do besides run a mile?” Chuku asked.
“A mile in under eight minutes. Push-ups, pull-ups, sit-ups, stuff like that.” Seth walked across the hot pavement of the empty parking lot with a football in hand. “It’s a fitness test mandated by the state. If you pass, you’re all set.”
“Even if we can’t do whatever it is we have to do, you can just fudge it for us, right?” Troy hurried to catch up.
Seth shook his head. “Nope.”
“Seth,” Troy said, “stop kidding around. You’re not old. I was kidding.”
“And I wish I was kidding about fudging it for you,” Seth said. “Some guy named Coach Witherspoon gives the test. He’s the high school phys ed teacher. Mr. Biondi told me he’s fair but tough. He’s also the wrestling coach, so he won’t be cutting you guys any slack.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
“WELL, COME ON.” SETH started down the concrete steps toward the field. “I won’t wear you guys out too bad, but we can get started on the basics and work on your chemistry.”
