Goal Line Read online

  “Don’t be a jerk, Paco,” Ronde muttered.

  “Why? What’d I say?”

  “Tiki and I are gonna grow up to be the same exact size.”

  “Yeah, but look at him, dude. He’s gonna be a monster at running back this year! We’re gonna rule, you guys!”

  “Yeah! That’s what I’m talkin’ about!” Tiki said, nodding. The two of them high-fived a second time.

  Tiki had made a promise to their mom not to say anything, and he was as good as his word. But Paco hadn’t made any promises. Within two minutes every kid on the bus knew about Ronde’s “little” predicament—and as soon as they got off, they’d be sure to tell all their friends. Before long “Shorty” would be the talk of the entire school!

  Ronde just sat there shaking his head as the others piled off the bus. Was it going to be like this all year long?

  He finally dragged himself off the seat and out of the bus. He trudged up the steps to the school as if his book bag weighed a ton. He tried not to walk too close to Tiki, so kids couldn’t tell the difference in size between them. But he still felt their eyes on him.

  Since he didn’t look back at them, he couldn’t tell whether they were eyeing him with admiration—the star of the Eagles’ defense—or whether they were comparing him to his brother, and laughing to themselves as they noticed how small he was in comparison.

  Luckily, things were not so bad once the bell rang and homeroom started. No one was looking at Ronde now. They were all busy comparing program cards, catching up with friends they hadn’t seen all summer, and, finally, shuffling off to their first class of the new school year.

  Heading for Mr. Lerner’s first-period science class, Ronde heaved a sigh of relief. Finally he could think about something other than his own shrimpiness!

  CHAPTER TWO

  BIG MAN ON CAMPUS

  * * *

  “YO, TEE-KEEEE!!”

  “My main man!!”

  “Woo-hoo, big dog! What have you been eating all summer?”

  Tiki high-fived everybody who stuck their hand out as they passed him in the halls. He breathed deeply, drinking it all in. His smile stretched from ear to ear, and he nodded his head as if to say, Yeah, this is really happening!

  Everybody knew him here, and they all wanted to claim him as their best friend. He was a big man on campus, and this year he was even bigger—four inches and twenty-five pounds bigger than last June, to be exact!

  “How tall are you exactly?” Cootie Harris, the Eagles’ number one fan, wanted to know. Cootie was the team mascot and unofficial good-luck charm. He wore a big feathery Eagle suit on the sidelines each game day, and flapped his wings whenever the team scored or made a big play on defense. He took a lot of teasing for his antics and his costume, but he always took it good-naturedly. So Tiki was pleased to give him the extra attention he deserved.

  “I’m five foot six and three quarters,” Tiki said proudly. “And they say once you start your growth spurt, you never know how far it will go.”

  Those were comforting words for Cootie, Tiki knew. The poor little guy was probably less than five feet tall, and still hoping for that magical spurt to start. Tiki noticed that Cootie’s voice was cracking when he got excited. “That’s a good sign,” Tiki told him. “It means you’re gonna shoot up soon.”

  “Really? Wow, so cool!” said Cootie, practically flapping his wings as he bounced away down the hall.

  Tiki laughed and shook his head. Then he thought of poor Ronde, and what he must have been going through that morning.

  Then the bell rang for last period, and Tiki had to get to class. His English teacher was Ms. Adair. She was nice and cheerful, but also no-nonsense. No sooner did they all sit down than she started handing out a bunch of papers, and writing instructions on the board for all sorts of things.

  It took him a long time, but Tiki wrote everything down. Just when he was done, and was sticking all the papers into his backpack, she started in again.

  “Now, class,” she began, “I’m happy to announce that Hidden Valley Junior High School will be participating in the President’s National Essay Contest!”

  She was wearing a big, happy smile, but the murmur that went around the classroom was anything but happy. Tiki knew why, too.

  Half the kids didn’t like writing, because they weren’t good at it, or they thought it was boring, or it took too long when they would rather be doing something else. The other half just figured this essay contest boiled down to more work, on top of everything else all their teachers made them do.

  It seemed to Tiki that every teacher thought that the only work you had to do was the work they gave you.

  “The topic of the essay will be ‘the true meaning of a famous American saying.’ As you all know, we use famous sayings all the time, and almost never realize what they mean or how they came to be famous. This is your chance to explore the saying of your choice. That’s why this contest is so exciting! You get to choose whatever saying you like.”

  Kathi Sienkiewicz raised her hand. “Ms. Adair?” she asked.

  “Yes, Kathi?”

  “What if we don’t want to do it?”

  Another murmur rose from the class. Tiki whistled low. Kathi sure had guts to ask a question like that—one they all wanted the answer to.

  “The contest is mandatory, Kathi,” said the teacher.

  “Manda-what?”

  “Manda-tory. It means you have to, dear. Every student at Hidden Valley will be writing an essay, and anyone can win!”

  “Even seventh graders?” Kathi asked, not happy about it. Kathi was a ninth grader and felt that ought to give her special privileges.

  “Anyone!” Ms. Adair said brightly. “Maybe even someone from this class! Wouldn’t that be thrilling?”

  Tiki rolled his eyes. He wondered whether “Oh, brother!” would qualify as a famous saying.

  “You will have two weeks to write your essay, which should be no less than one thousand words. That’s about five double-spaced pages.”

  “Two weeks to write a thousand words?” another student piped up.

  “That’s right,” said Ms. Adair. “I know it’s not much time, but Dr. Anand wants you all to improve your writing skills, and she knows we teachers don’t give as much homework the first weeks.”

  A groan went up from the class. They all knew that no matter how little homework you got the first two weeks, it always felt like a lot, because you hadn’t done any all summer. Now they’d all have to do this stupid essay on top of everything else!

  The bell rang to signal the end of the school day. Tiki stuffed the essay announcement into his book bag with the rest of the papers and filed out of the room. He had no idea what he’d write about, but he could think about that later. Right now he had someplace more important to go—

  Football practice!

  Coach Wheeler took one look at Tiki and said, “Whoa. Son, we’re gonna have to get you another uniform—one in a larger size, for sure.”

  Tiki beamed, and so did Wheeler. They both knew what Tiki’s larger size meant to the team. More power, more yards, more points, and more wins!

  “Good to see you back, Tiki,” said Wheeler, clapping him on the back. “Why don’t you get out there and help with the rookies?”

  Today was tryouts, and the new crop of seventh graders looked really good. Was it Tiki’s imagination, or were they much bigger than seventh graders used to be, back when he was one?

  What were they feeding kids these days? he wondered. Whatever it was, they must have been eating a lot of it. Even though he’d grown so much, most of these seventh graders were still bigger than he was!

  Tiki and the regulars from last season all greeted one another, slapping five, making cracks, and horsing around. Then Coach Wheeler blew the whistle, and they lined up on offense, facing a defensive line of new, nervous-looking faces.

  Tiki remembered what it had been like back when he and Ronde had been trying out. Every play could make
you or break you. If you messed up and a coach saw it, they’d give you a bad mark for that skill. And if you got enough bad marks, you didn’t make the team.

  Tiki took a handoff on the first play, and put a move on the defensive end that left him grabbing two handfuls of air.

  “Hey, stay loose, yo,” Tiki told the kid as he passed him on his way back to the huddle. “It’s gonna be all right. Just play proud.”

  It was his mom’s saying, and it had become his and Ronde’s motto. He didn’t know if the kid got the meaning of it, but Tiki was pretty sure he got the general idea.

  The next time Tiki ran his way, the kid dove, grabbed him by the ankles, and brought him down.

  “That’s the way!” Tiki told him, helping the boy up. “What’s your name?”

  “Rob Fiorilla,” the kid said, grinning shyly.

  “Tiki Barber.”

  “Yeah, I know,” said Rob.

  Tiki chuckled. He still couldn’t quite believe he was so famous that even seventh graders, new to the school, knew who he was.

  “Did you see the play that kid just made?” Tiki asked as Ronde came jogging up to them.

  “You’re just slow today,” he told Tiki, chuckling.

  “This is my twin brother, Ronde,” Tiki told Rob. “Ronde, meet Rob Fiorilla.”

  “Your twin?” Rob repeated, looking at one, then the other, and squinting his eyes. “How come you’re so much bigger?”

  Tiki could practically see the steam coming out of Ronde’s ears. Luckily, Coach Pellugi called the defense away for drills and Ronde and Rob jogged off together, leaving Tiki and the offense behind.

  Coach Ontkos gathered the other players and the would-be Eagles around. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s see how you kids can catch the ball.”

  Tiki spotted two tall skinny boys with long legs and arms. Amazingly, it seemed there might now be two sets of identical twins on the Eagles!

  They lined up along with the others, then proceeded to run several patterns, with starting quarterback Manny Alvaro throwing to them. The tall, lanky twins each made spectacular grabs.

  Their names were Felix and Frank Amadou. They had moved to Roanoke from Haiti last year, and English was still their second language. More important, they were at least three inches taller than Tiki, even now that he’d grown some.

  Ronde, covering them, was giving up at least six inches. The Amadou brothers had long strides. They could jump, they had good hands, and they even busted a few choice moves Tiki thought might be worth using himself.

  “Sign those two up!” Paco said in Tiki’s ear.

  “Ow!” Tiki said. “Hey, don’t make me deaf, man!”

  “Sorry. I’m just excited,” said Paco.

  “I hear that. I think we might have Sam Scarfone’s spot covered too.”

  He meant the defensive end position, which Sam had starred at the past two years. Rob Fiorilla had a lot to learn, but he also had all the talent he’d need to stop a running back with Tiki’s kind of skills.

  Not only was the new crop of players looking exceptional, but all the returning Eagles were bigger, stronger, and more experienced. All except Ronde. Manny Alvaro in particular looked like he might turn into a real star this season. Yes, the Eagles’ future was looking very bright this afternoon, Tiki thought.

  But just then the sun hid itself behind a dark cloud. At the same instant a shout went up from the other side of the field, where the tryouts for defense were going on.

  “Shut up!” The words rang out loud and clear. It was Ronde’s voice!

  “Make me!” came the reply. And now other boys were holding Ronde and his opponent apart. Whistles blew, and coaches came running.

  Tiki ran too, as fast as his longer, stronger legs could carry him. If he had to defend his brother, he would. But it would be better to stop the fight before it got started.

  By the time he got there, luckily, things had already calmed down. The other boy had gone off to his next drill, along with most of the other kids. Ronde stood where he was, steaming, each of his arms held by one of his teammates.

  “What’s up, Ronde?” Tiki asked.

  “Some punk seventh grader was messing with me.”

  “What does that mean?” Tiki pressed him.

  Ronde stared off into the distance, where the offending kid was trying out at cornerback—Ronde’s position. The kid was big, much taller than Ronde, and with longer legs. He seemed to have pretty good skills, too.

  “Wow,” Tiki said as the kid knocked away a pass that would have been a sure completion. “He’s gonna be good. Look at the size of him!”

  Then he realized what he’d said, just as Ronde’s fist came crashing into his arm. “Sorry, dude. I forgot. Sorry. Sorry.”

  Still, Tiki thought, it was good that the Eagles would have another strong cornerback. It meant that other teams wouldn’t be able to avoid Ronde by throwing to whichever receiver he wasn’t covering.

  The Eagles had lost a lot of their best players over the summer, but it sure looked like they were restocking with supertalented rookies. Tiki couldn’t help feeling they had a real shot at repeating as state champs—if Ronde could get over being the smallest guy on the team.

  Right now that looked like a great big if.

  CHAPTER THREE

  ANTICIPATION

  * * *

  RONDE COULD FEEL THE RECEIVER’S EYES ON HIM. He could see that sneering smile behind the face guard. He knew what the kid was thinking.

  “I may be short,” Ronde said to himself, “but I’m no pushover.”

  The receiver’s smirk turned into a wide grin. “We’ll see about that.”

  Huh? Had he heard Ronde’s words? How could he have? Ronde had barely breathed them!

  No time to think about that, though. The game was on! The quarterback took the snap, and the receiver came straight at Ronde!

  Ronde braced himself for the hit. Usually it was him giving the hits, and the receiver taking them. Not this time.

  This receiver was huge—a foot taller than Ronde, and at least fifty pounds heavier. Not only that, it was all muscle. Ronde swallowed hard and braced for impact.

  But it didn’t come. When he opened his eyes (had he really closed them?), the receiver was already past him, racing downfield, waving his hands and yelling, “I’m open! I’m open!”

  The crowd was roaring in Ronde’s ears, and somehow he heard every word they were saying. How had the guy gotten past him like that?

  He tried desperately to make up the lost ground. But the receiver, with his long legs that took such long strides, had a huge head start.

  Not only that, but Ronde suddenly felt like he was running through mud. His legs felt heavy, and the air felt like a thick soup he had to fight through. He looked up and saw the ball sailing over his head, just out of reach.

  He frantically tried to bat it down, but it was too high. Everything was out of reach, in fact. The ball, the receiver, the goal line. No matter how fast he tried to run, they all remained out of reach.

  Why? Why did he have to be so small? It was infuriating! The receiver had caught the pass now, and was crossing the goal line for a touchdown. Ronde grabbed his helmet with both hands and yelled, “NoooooOOOO!!!!”

  Suddenly the earth was shaking. No, wait, it was him—someone was shaking him.

  “Ronde!”

  “Let go of me!” he cried. “I’m just too little. I can’t play anymore! I quit!”

  “Ronde! Dude, wake up!”

  “Huh?” Ronde opened his eyes, and found himself staring at himself.

  No. Wait. It was Tiki. Of course. He’d been dreaming!

  “What … hey…”

  “Snap out of it, dude. You were having a nightmare or something.”

  “Ha. I’ll say,” Ronde replied, breaking out into a relieved grin.

  So it hadn’t happened after all. He hadn’t blown anything, or cost his team a touchdown or a game. The season hadn’t even started.

  But what wou
ld happen when it did? Would his nightmare come true?

  “Ronde,” said Tiki, “listen up. Just because you’re not growing as fast as me, it doesn’t mean you’ve lost your talent.”

  “What?” Ronde said, avoiding Tiki’s eyes.

  “You know what I’m talking about. It’s not your talent you have to worry about, dude. It’s your mojo.”

  “My mojo?”

  “Your confidence. Don’t stop believing in yourself, Ronde,” Tiki said. “You’re still the same guy you’ve always been.”

  “That’s true,” Ronde said. “Tiki … was I talking in my sleep?”

  “Big-time.”

  “Dang.”

  “Remember what I said, now.”

  “I will. That’s good advice. Thanks, Tiki.”

  “Don’t mention it. Go back to sleep. And no more of those nightmares, okay?”

  Almost a week had passed since the start of school. It was Friday, and that morning the new Eagles’ team list had been posted in the hallway outside the main office.

  Ronde passed the crowd of seventh graders huddling in front of it, looking for their names on the roster. Some kids were yelling “Yesss!” and others were sighing and turning away, disappointed.

  Heading to his first class, Ronde remembered the feeling. It had been two years since he and Tiki had first been huddled in front of that list, along with their friends. But that was life. Sometimes you succeeded in reaching your goals, and sometimes you failed.

  And once in a while you succeeded but still weren’t happy. He and Tiki had made the team, all right, but then they’d had to spend most of that first season on the bench, watching the older kids play while they waited for a brief chance to get on the field and strut their stuff.

  In English class Ms. Bernstein reminded them that by Monday they had to hand in their essay topics for approval. Ronde bit his lip. He’d forgotten all about the contest. He’d been so busy with football practice, school-work, reconnecting with friends, and worrying about his size, that he hadn’t given the contest a moment’s thought.