False Start
Page 1
Copyright © 2017 by Lerner Publishing Group, Inc.
All rights reserved. International copyright secured. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of Lerner Publishing Group, Inc., except for the inclusion of brief quotations in an acknowledged review.
Darby Creek
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Minneapolis, MN 55401 USA
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Cover and interior images: © pattern line/Shutterstock.com (scratched texture); © Eky Studio/Shutterstock.com (metal bolts); © Kriangsak Osvapoositkul/Shutterstock.com (rust texture); © ostill/Shutterstock.com (players); © EFKS/Shutterstock.com (stadium).
Main body text set in Janson Text LT Std 12/17.5. Typeface provided by Adobe Systems.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Hoblin, Paul, author.
Title: False start / Paul Hoblin.
Description: Minneapolis : Darby Creek, [2017] | Summary: Told in two voices, seniors Jeff and Scott compete on the high school football field but remain friendly until a scholarship and a girl come between them.
Identifiers: LCCN 2016047305 (print) | LCCN 2017006412 (ebook) | ISBN 9781512439793 (lb : alk. paper) | ISBN 9781512453515 (pb : alk. paper) | ISBN 9781512448689 (eb pdf)
Subjects: | CYAC: Interpersonal relations—Fiction. | Football—Fiction. | Competition (Psychology)—Fiction. | High schools—Fiction. | Schools—Fiction.
Classification: LCC PZ7.H653 Fal 2017 (print) | LCC PZ7.H653 (ebook) | DDC [Fic]—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2016047305
Manufactured in the United States of America
1-42228-25777-2/7/2017
9780778717256 ePub
9780778717270 mobi
9780778717294 ePub
Chapter 1
Jeff
People understand why I’m mad at Scooter. They just don’t understand why I’m this mad.
“We get it, Jeff,” they say. “But is he really that bad? I mean, what did he do?”
So I tell them.
I tell them that he stole my starting spot on the football team. He stole my Division I scholarship. He stole Morgyn.
But I don’t want their sympathy.
No. I need their help.
For getting revenge.
Chapter 2
Scooter
I know it sounds bad.
What was I thinking?
Let me just say this. Jeff’s story isn’t true.
Okay, it is true.
But it’s not the whole story.
I, Scott Williams, a.k.a. Scooter, didn’t really do all that Jeff thinks I did.
Chapter 3
Jeff
None of this would have happened if Scooter hadn’t moved to Small Valley for our senior year. Before he got here I was the starting running back. I was good too.
Actually, I was really good.
That’s not bragging. When the all-conference list came out in the paper after my junior season, my name was on it: Stoddard, Jeffrey. RB. Small Valley.
There was no reason to think I wouldn’t be all-conference as a senior too.
I’m a big guy. Big shoulders. Big legs. My shadow on the football field is the shape and size of a refrigerator.
I might not have breakaway speed, but I have quick feet for a guy my size. I also have soft hands for catching screen passes. Sometimes Coach Douglas puts me at tight end instead of running back so I can run routes. All you have to do is get the ball in my general direction, and I’ll usually find a way to catch it.
Then Scooter showed up, and everything that could go wrong did go wrong.
Chapter 4
Scooter
I sometimes wish I never moved to Small Valley.
It’s not like it was my choice.
My mom got a job here as a bank teller. She’d been applying for months, and this was the best job available. The problem, she said, was that she didn’t have a college degree. That’s why she wanted me to get more involved in school; she read somewhere that kids who were in school activities were more likely to get college scholarships.
“Tell you what, Scott,” she told me back then, “if you promise to try your best at Small Valley, I’ll let you join the football team.”
I’d wanted to play football since I was a kid, but my mom thought I was too little.
I am little. But so are a lot of running backs. My all-time favorite running back is Barry Sanders. He had already retired from the NFL by the time I was born, but his YouTube highlights are amazing. He was little too, but he juked and deked and ran circles around all the big guys trying to tackle him.
I’m a lot like Barry Sanders. Like me, he was really quick. Like me, he was really soft-spoken. (Soft-spoken is the word my mom uses to describe me. I think it just means really shy.)
I thought that maybe if I joined the football team, I wouldn’t have to talk that much. Maybe I could just run the ball instead.
Then again, maybe Mom was right. Maybe I’d get crushed.
There was only one way to find out.
Chapter 5
Jeff
I still remember Scooter’s first practice.
I’m pretty sure I’ll never forget it.
I remember how all of us were on one knee, listening to Coach Douglas talk about our last game and his plan for practices for the week. I remember him stopping mid-sentence and saying, “I’m sorry . . . I completely forgot to introduce our new kid. Mr. Williams, stand up.”
I looked where Coach was looking and waited for the player to jump to his feet and take off his helmet. He didn’t do either.
“Stand up, son,” Coach repeated.
This time, the player followed the command.
That’s when I realized how tiny he was. It didn’t help that he was hunching, his head drooped. It looked like the helmet was too big for him or something. It seemed to be weighing him down.
“Where are you from, Williams?” Coach asked.
The kid didn’t respond. Or maybe I just couldn’t hear him. It was hard to see whether his mouth was moving behind the face mask.
“What position do you play?” Coach asked.
This time I heard him, but just barely.
“Running back,” the kid mumbled.
That’s when Coach turned to me. “Stoddard,” he said. “Keep an eye on Williams, okay? Make sure he gets where he needs to be.”
“Yes, sir,” I said.
And I did. It was a total drag, but I did it anyway. The two of us went from drill to drill that day. I asked him where he played last year and he mumbled he hadn’t, so I started breaking down terminology and our plays for him. The truth is, I felt sorry for him. I didn’t know why he’d decided to go out for football this year, but then again it didn’t matter. What mattered was that he was going to get crushed. It’s not like I thought he’d be getting many handoffs. The running back position was already filled—by me. I’d worked hard last season and I didn’t have any plans of stopping.
But a kid that small didn’t need to be in a game for long to get hurt.
One carry would be enough.
“Williams!” Coach said toward the end of the practice. “Give Stoddard a breather.”
I wanted to tell Coach that it was okay, I could keep going. But I knew better than to argue with him. I watched as the offense lined up without me—and with the tiny new kid standing a few yards behind our quarterback.
Chapter 6
Scooter
&n
bsp; As I stood there waiting for the play to start, I told myself to calm down.
C’mon, Scott, I thought. This is your chance. Don’t blow it.
It’s what I’d been thinking that whole first practice.
Like I said before, I’ve always been shy. But this was out of control. I’d hardly said a word the whole time—not even when the Coach or Jeff had asked me questions. I wanted so badly to impress them—to make them think that I wasn’t just some runty kid with no football experience. Even though that’s exactly what I was. It was like my brain and mouth had been disconnected. Most of the time I hadn’t been able to think of anything to say. Even when I did come up with something, my mouth hadn’t let me say it.
And now here I was, about to get my first handoff, and my brain had stopped working completely. Jeff had explained the difference between a dive and a veer, hadn’t he? Which side did the coach say to run—right or left?
I couldn’t remember.
“Hut!” the quarterback yelled.
Chapter 7
Jeff
It was like he was frozen there.
He wasn’t moving an inch.
Our quarterback, Joey Mitchell, had taken the snap and turned to make the handoff. When he realized the running back wasn’t there, he spun the other way. Still no running back.
By now the defense was breaking through the offensive line. Joey looked around frantically and finally found the running back in the exact same spot as where he’d started the play. Joey didn’t have time to figure out what was going on. He had two options: get crunched by our defense or get rid of the ball.
He pitched the ball end over end to Scooter . . . who still wasn’t moving.
I’m part of a lot of collisions—usually I’m the one who causes them. Bodies slamming into each other don’t make me flinch.
But this was different.
Scooter was like a deer in headlights. He managed to catch the football somehow, but his feet were still stuck in the ground.
I closed my eyes and heard the collision.
When I opened my eyes, I saw bodies sprawled on the field, just as I expected.
What I didn’t expect? The bodies weren’t Scooter’s. Two of our defensive linemen lifted their heads and looked at each other, dazed. Where had the little guy gone?
Honestly, it was like Scooter had disappeared.
Chapter 8
Scooter
I’m not sure how I caught Joey’s pitch. It was a matter of reflexes, I guess.
It wasn’t something I thought about one way or the other.
Instincts. That’s all it was.
Nothing else that happened was planned either.
Two guys were closing in on me, so I stutter-stepped. I half-spun. I ducked and lunged. Using my hand for balance, I stayed on my feet and scampered to my right. I planted a foot in the ground and cut back to the left and then again across the line of scrimmage. One more cut and a stiff arm later and I was running free.
It wasn’t until I got to the end zone that I had any idea of what I had just done. I turned back to the field and saw bodies strewn everywhere.
I did that, I thought. This must be how Barry Sanders used to feel after a long run.
Thinking of Sanders reminded me of how he acted after he scored touchdowns. No matter how incredible the run was, he didn’t celebrate. He definitely didn’t showboat. He just found a referee and hustled over to hand him the ball.
Since this was practice, there wasn’t a referee. But there was Coach Douglas.
I ran the forty yards back to the line of scrimmage, head down, and handed the football to my new coach.
Chapter 9
Jeff
A few minutes later, Coach Douglas blew his whistle and ended practice. As everyone shuffled off the field, Coach put his arm around me.
“Stoddard,” he said. “Keep looking after the new kid, okay?”
“Look after him?” I asked.
“Help him learn the plays. Make sure he gets along okay at school. That sort of thing.”
It’s easy to blame Coach for a lot of what happened. All this time later, it seems like he was telling me to help Scooter take my starting job. But that’s not really fair. At the time, I was still the all-conference starter, and Scooter was just a shy kid who had some speed. For all we knew, the incredible run he just made was a lucky chance. I don’t think either one of us had any idea how good Scooter would end up being.
“What do you say, Stoddard?” Coach said. “Can you keep an eye on him?”
“Sure, Coach,” I said.
I should have said no. I realize that now. If I’d said no, none of what happened next would have, well, happened next.
Chapter 10
Scooter
No matter what Jeff and all his friends say about me now, I’m grateful for all of his help.
Without Jeff, I would never have learned the playbook or football fundamentals.
Without Jeff, I would never have felt like I was part of the team or the school.
Without Jeff, I would never have met Morgyn.
But I’m getting ahead of myself.
The first thing I would never have done is go to that party a few nights after our first practice.
Chapter 11
Jeff
Yes, I agreed to look after Scooter. But that didn’t mean I had to like it.
And I didn’t. Not at first, anyway.
I invited him to a party and what did he do? Stared at the floor in silence, that’s what. I kept trying to introduce him to all my friends. And not to brag, but I have a lot of friends. Small Valley High is football crazy, and I was one of the best players, so making friends has always been pretty easy for me. It should have been easy for Scooter too.
I even came up with a nickname for him. Yes, that’s how he got the nickname.
“Hey, guys,” I’d say. “I want you to meet my buddy. He’s on the football team. Call him Scooter. Seriously, you should see the wheels on this guy.”
Guys reached out to shake his hand or bump his fist. Girls smiled and waited for him to look up at them.
But he didn’t reach his own hand out or lift his eyes an inch.
It was awkward and embarrassing.
Which is why I ditched him.
The dude was dead weight. Checking in on him? Sure, that I could handle. But babysitting him? No thanks.
That’s what I told myself as I told him, “That’s pretty much everyone. Have fun tonight, man.”
Then I left him so I could have fun myself.
Chapter 12
Scooter
I don’t blame Jeff for stranding me at the party.
I was actually relieved when he left.
It meant I didn’t have to meet anyone else. I don’t know what’s the matter with me, but for some reason, my mind goes totally blank when I try to come up with something to say to new people.
Anyway, when Jeff wandered off, I did too.
I ended up on the porch by myself. Coach had emailed me the playbook, and I scrolled through it on the phone. My only experience with playbooks was in videogames, which isn’t really the same thing. I can’t say that I totally understood what I was looking at, but it was better than being uncomfortable inside.
Still, it was cool when Jeff found me. No one’s ever come looking for me when I’ve wandered off.
Chapter 13
Jeff
At first I was angry. I go out of my way to bring this kid to a party and what does he do? He vanishes into thin air.
I was talking with some friends, having a good time. At some point, I stepped away from the conversation and looked around.
“What the . . . ?”
Then I was on the move.
“Have you seen Scooter?” I asked a few of the guys. They shook their heads.
The house was just one floor. It wasn’t like there were a lot of places to go.
“The guy who walked in with me—is he around here somewhere?” I asked someo
ne else.
Maybe someone told me to check the porch. I can’t remember. Then again, I might have figured it out myself.
“You’re killing me, man,” I told him as I stepped outside. “Coach asked me to keep an eye on you, but how am I supposed to do that when you sneak off like this?”
I regretted saying this as soon as it came out of my mouth. I only said it because I was so frustrated.
I was just about to apologize when Scooter said, “Coach asked you to keep an eye on me?”
He should have been offended by this news—I would have been—but it didn’t sound like he was. In fact, I think he liked hearing that Coach was looking out for him.
“Why?” he asked.
It was the first thing he’d said to me in hours.
“I guess he thinks you have potential. That run today in practice was pretty impressive.”
He thought about that and nodded. “I’ve always been better at avoiding people than interacting with them.” He waved his phone at me. “Just trying to figure out the playbook. Maybe you could help me?”
I was pretty impressed. I bring a new guy to a party, and he wants to study the playbook? I guess his commitment to the team won me over a bit.
“I mean, you don’t have to help me right now. You should go back to your party. But maybe—”
“I have a better idea,” I interrupted. “Follow me.”
As it turned out, this was not a good idea at all. In fact, it was the second terrible decision I’d made in a couple days.
Chapter 14
Scooter
Jeff didn’t tell me where we were going.
He just turned and walked back through the house.
It was the others who filled me in.
“Bet I know where you’re going,” one of the other guys on the team said to him.
“Pit stop at the girlfriend’s, am I right?” our quarterback, Joey, said.
“Something like that,” Jeff replied, pushing through the crowd with more determination than I’d seen from him since we left the field.