Read Online Soccer Halfback by Matt Christopher - Free Book Online
Authors: Matt Christopher
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quarter. He didn’t care much if he went into the game again or
not. He hadn’t been psyched up about it before it had started, and he certainly wasn’t now. As a matter of fact, he would
just as soon take his shower this minute and go home.
But the coach had him go back in. “Break the game loose,” the coach said. “Nobody’s doing anything out there except kicking
the ball.”
Jabber tossed aside the jacket, reported to the ref, and took Pat’s place the instant there was an out-of-bounds kick.
He felt stiff. Those few seconds he had warmed up at the sideline, waiting for his chance to go in, were hardly enough to
work the stiffness out of his joints.
But it didn’t take long. A short pass to him from Stork gave him an opportunity to dribble the ball down the field and across
the center line. When a couple of Blue Jacket players came tearing after him, he gave the ball a tremendous kick that sent
it more than halfway down toward the Blue Jackets’ goal line.
Break the game loose? The coach must be kidding! After the lousy day he had had, he couldn’t break anything loose!
It’s the old con game, Jabber thought. He’s trying to build up my confidence. Well, I only wish it were working.
But as he ran down the field, he felt better as thestiffness worked out of his joints. His energy flowed back into him. He became fresh and strong again.
Joe Sanford received the ball and booted it toward the goal area. Jack stopped it and tried to kick it in, only to be thwarted
by a Blue Jacket fullback who gave the ball a hard enough boot to put it temporarily out of the danger zone.
It’s the same old thing, thought Jabber. A score looks as if it’s in the making, then the Blue Jackets drill it down the field.
We’re lucky we’ve got the points we have, he told himself.
The game soon ended, the score remaining Nuggets 2, Blue Jackets 1.
11
J abber made his decision. Right or wrong, he felt it was the wisest step to make. He’d put the wallet back where he had found
it. It was the only way he could make certain that Pete wouldn’t accuse him of stealing it, and the money that was in it.
Maybe Pete would find it on his way home.
He would do it now, after the game.
He finally reached the spot, recognizing the bush where his headache had begun. Glancing up the street and then behind him,
assuring himself that no one was close enough to see him, he removed the wallet from his pocket and tossed it toward the bush.
It fell open like a floundering butterfly. He left it like that and walked away.
He hadn’t gone more than five steps when thegravity of what he’d done hit him like a ton of bricks. Stupid, he thought. It was just stupid dropping the wallet back into
the bush. It was infantile, ridiculous. And the act of a coward.
Sure, a coward. But would he be brave enough to give the wallet to Pete?
He’d wait and see. At the moment, he’d retrieve it. First things first.
He went back, picked it up, and had started to put it into his pocket when a car stopped along the curb beside him and a voice
called his name.
“Hey, Jabber? What did you find?”
He almost froze. He hadn’t thought of looking back to see if a car was coming this time. He hadn’t heard it approach.
He looked at the driver. It was Tony Dranger, Pete’s hang-gliding friend.
“Oh, hi, Tony,” he greeted the other boy numbly. He could have crept into a hole.
“What was that? A wallet?” asked Tony.
Jabber nodded.
“Anything in it?”
Jabber opened it, his fingers trembling. “It’s empty,” he said.
“Any name in it?” asked Tony. “There should be an ID card in it somewhere.”
Jabber looked at the ID card that stood staring him in the face.
“It’s Pete’s,” he said.
“Whose?”
“Pete’s. My brother’s.” Jabber’s voice almost cracked.
“Well, how about that?” exclaimed Tony. “The one he lost while we were playing touch football. Wait’ll he hears the sad
not. He hadn’t been psyched up about it before it had started, and he certainly wasn’t now. As a matter of fact, he would
just as soon take his shower this minute and go home.
But the coach had him go back in. “Break the game loose,” the coach said. “Nobody’s doing anything out there except kicking
the ball.”
Jabber tossed aside the jacket, reported to the ref, and took Pat’s place the instant there was an out-of-bounds kick.
He felt stiff. Those few seconds he had warmed up at the sideline, waiting for his chance to go in, were hardly enough to
work the stiffness out of his joints.
But it didn’t take long. A short pass to him from Stork gave him an opportunity to dribble the ball down the field and across
the center line. When a couple of Blue Jacket players came tearing after him, he gave the ball a tremendous kick that sent
it more than halfway down toward the Blue Jackets’ goal line.
Break the game loose? The coach must be kidding! After the lousy day he had had, he couldn’t break anything loose!
It’s the old con game, Jabber thought. He’s trying to build up my confidence. Well, I only wish it were working.
But as he ran down the field, he felt better as thestiffness worked out of his joints. His energy flowed back into him. He became fresh and strong again.
Joe Sanford received the ball and booted it toward the goal area. Jack stopped it and tried to kick it in, only to be thwarted
by a Blue Jacket fullback who gave the ball a hard enough boot to put it temporarily out of the danger zone.
It’s the same old thing, thought Jabber. A score looks as if it’s in the making, then the Blue Jackets drill it down the field.
We’re lucky we’ve got the points we have, he told himself.
The game soon ended, the score remaining Nuggets 2, Blue Jackets 1.
11
J abber made his decision. Right or wrong, he felt it was the wisest step to make. He’d put the wallet back where he had found
it. It was the only way he could make certain that Pete wouldn’t accuse him of stealing it, and the money that was in it.
Maybe Pete would find it on his way home.
He would do it now, after the game.
He finally reached the spot, recognizing the bush where his headache had begun. Glancing up the street and then behind him,
assuring himself that no one was close enough to see him, he removed the wallet from his pocket and tossed it toward the bush.
It fell open like a floundering butterfly. He left it like that and walked away.
He hadn’t gone more than five steps when thegravity of what he’d done hit him like a ton of bricks. Stupid, he thought. It was just stupid dropping the wallet back into
the bush. It was infantile, ridiculous. And the act of a coward.
Sure, a coward. But would he be brave enough to give the wallet to Pete?
He’d wait and see. At the moment, he’d retrieve it. First things first.
He went back, picked it up, and had started to put it into his pocket when a car stopped along the curb beside him and a voice
called his name.
“Hey, Jabber? What did you find?”
He almost froze. He hadn’t thought of looking back to see if a car was coming this time. He hadn’t heard it approach.
He looked at the driver. It was Tony Dranger, Pete’s hang-gliding friend.
“Oh, hi, Tony,” he greeted the other boy numbly. He could have crept into a hole.
“What was that? A wallet?” asked Tony.
Jabber nodded.
“Anything in it?”
Jabber opened it, his fingers trembling. “It’s empty,” he said.
“Any name in it?” asked Tony. “There should be an ID card in it somewhere.”
Jabber looked at the ID card that stood staring him in the face.
“It’s Pete’s,” he said.
“Whose?”
“Pete’s. My brother’s.” Jabber’s voice almost cracked.
“Well, how about that?” exclaimed Tony. “The one he lost while we were playing touch football. Wait’ll he hears the sad
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