Revenge of the Bully Page 6

  A no-lose game plan? That sounded promising.

  “Just hand the ball to Rathbone and get out of his way!”

  Just hand the ball to Rath . . . What?

  “Go get ’em, Rodney!” Coach Laimbardi shouted. “Hands in! G-Men on three. One-two-three!”

  I caught myself glancing back at the porta-potties as a barely audible “G-Men” wafted into the fall Ohio air.

  There’s nothing like starting a game with an exciting, memorable play. Ours saw Hector toss the football back to me, as we had planned. It floated in the air for just a second but to me it seemed to hover there for ages.

  I had heard that the game slows down for great athletes and they have time to do extraordinary things while the average player sees the game quickly and barely has time to react. And here it was, slowing down for me. But instead of calculating some brilliant play, all I could think about was everyone watching me. The thought sent a nervous shudder through my body—and my fingertips—just as the football arrived. Still in slow motion I watched it slip from my hands.

  “Fumble!” I heard a defender scream.

  I gasped and tried to dive after it but my knees turned to Jell-O and I fell to the grass. The only other person nearby was Josh. “Get the ball!” I hollered. Amazingly, he reacted quickly and picked it up. “Run!” I yelled. He took a couple of steps but the Streetsboro defenders had broken through the line. The first tackler ran full speed into him. It was a jarring blow. I watched the Streetsboro kid go flying backward and land hard on the packed dirt. Josh, on the other hand, had barely moved. Unfortunately for Streetsboro, the hit had clearly left him angry.

  “Run!” I yelled again, only this time it was a warning to the other team.

  Ignoring me, the next tackler, a big, tough-looking linebacker, dove at the enraged grizzly bear in their midst. Josh caught him in midair and body-slammed him to the ground. Seeing this, the rest of the Streetsboro team stopped dead in their tracks. Their coach screamed them on but Josh looked so ferocious they refused to go near him.

  At this point, Josh could have walked the length of the field and strolled into the end zone for a touchdown. Instead, his crazy temper made him hurl the ball at the closest Streetsboro player. It bounced off the kid’s backside and rolled toward me. I gulped. A chance to redeem myself! I picked it up and darted forward, managing to cross the line of scrimmage before the defense attacked and tripped me up. I’d gained about five yards.

  Some people in the stands cheered, but most just looked confused. The Streetsboro coached hollered at the refs and called time-out. We shuffled over toward our sideline. Josh was still breathing hard but starting to calm down. I was unsure of what to expect from Coach Laimbardi. Yeah, I had gained a couple of yards, but I had also fumbled.

  I needn’t have worried. “Now that’s how you play football,” Laimbardi said, grinning. “I like the way you two think. Being unpredictable is a gift. Look how rattled you got Coach Laundry and his players. Keep it up.” He called over to Trevor, “I hope you’re taking notes.”

  I thought I saw a puff of steam shoot out from the ear holes of Trevor’s helmet.

  “Did I get a home run?” Josh asked.

  “Ha ha! Good one,” Coach answered. “You two crack me up. What a duo!” As he walked away I heard him say something about Mack and Byner.

  I was surprised by how quickly halftime rolled around. Streetsboro had scored a second-quarter field goal and the score was 3–0. Before heading to the locker room for the break I was joined by a couple of my friends on the field. Rishi seemed oddly nervous.

  “You’re holding back, right?” he asked. “Saving everything for the second half, right? I get it.”

  I was about to ask why he cared so much when my parents and Penny came up to us. “Rishi,” my mom asked, “who are those three men you were talking to in the stands?”

  “What men?” he lied.

  “Those men,” my mom answered, pointing right at the Boss, “and why are they wearing pinstripe suits at a football game?”

  Before he could answer, the marching band started heading our way. “I’ve got to go join the team,” I said. “Enjoy the game. See you all later.”

  As it turned out, however, there wasn’t much to enjoy. The second half dragged and dragged. Late into the fourth quarter we still trailed by three. With every passing second I felt more desperate to win. I felt full of energy. I had stayed right behind Josh for most of the game and avoided getting smashed to pieces . . . except for one hard hit that left my ears ringing. But now wasn’t the time to worry about injuries. Now was the time for a hero! For the first time, I knew I could do it.

  We had the ball and were down to our final play. We lined up. This was it. My nerves were on overload. Hector snapped and flipped the ball to me. Luckily the defense seemed unusually slow to react and I bolted through the line without being touched. I couldn’t believe I was in the open field! Seeing the end zone ahead, I ratcheted up the speed. Only the Streetsboro safety could stop me now but instead of running me down, he just watched me run by. Evidently he and the whole team were in awe of my blazing speed. I was going in for the touchdown. I really was hero material. Why had I ever doubted myself? As I crossed into the gold-painted end zone I knew that Jessica was somewhere in the stands watching me save the game for Garrettsville. Just like all my favorite players, I spiked the ball and turned, ready to soak in the cheers of the adoring crowd.

  I was met by silence. It was oddly terrifying. My first thought was that I was in some bizarre dream. Finally the crowd erupted—into screeching laughter. All I saw were fingers pointing at me. I quickly checked to see if my pants were still on.

  The line judge walked over and picked up the ball I had spiked. “That was some run, son,” he said. “Too bad the other team called time-out just before the play got off.”

  I hadn’t heard the call because of the dumb ringing in my ears! Feeling like a fool, I walked back to the huddle through the howling Streetsboro defense.

  “Classic Rathbone!” Trevor called from the side.

  The game ended a few minutes later. Streetsboro held on for the 3–0 win.

  I avoided looking into the crowd. I didn’t want to see any more smiling, laughing faces. At least I’d given them something to enjoy. Trailing Coach Laimbardi, we shuffled back to the locker room. Losing the game was bad enough, but playing the role of town bonehead . . . well, I felt pretty low.

  The rest of the team and I sat down on the wooden benches with our helmets resting by our feet. I wasn’t looking forward to the speech I knew was coming. Was he going to yell at us? At me? I kept my eyes fixed on a pattern in the blue linoleum tile floor. Coach Laimbardi walked into the middle of the locker room.

  “Boys, that was spectacular!” he cheered.

  Huh?

  “Coach Manuel, when was the last time we lost by only three?”

  “Five years ago.”

  Coach Laimbardi blotted his eyes. “You boys have made me very happy today. Well done! A three-point loss. I think I’ll be heading out with Mrs. Laimbardi and treating myself to the surf and turf tonight. I’ll see you Monday. Game ball goes to Rathbone! Enjoy the rest of your weekend!”

  We changed back into our street clothes. Coach’s speech had an uplifting effect, and while I had to deal with the typical “Nice run, Rodney!” comments, I recognized that it was okay to laugh at myself. In the end, the whole team was cracking up about the famous “Time-out Touchdown.” I joked around with everyone as they filed out of the locker room and was actually starting to feel pretty good when one word sent a shiver down my spine.

  “Scram!”

  It was the unmistakable voice of Cheese and it was directed to the few kids still left talking to me. I turned around to face him. Cheese was well over six feet tall and looked about as wide as our entire offensive line. The remaining teammates took one look
at the oversize visitor and bolted. Cheese called out, “Da coast is clear.”

  The Boss and Willy walked in. Followed by Rishi! Satisfied that no one else was in the locker room, the Boss stared down at me and shook his head. Something told me the words “Better luck next time” weren’t about to spring from his lips. He got right to the point.

  “Your friend here”—he motioned at Rishi—“ain’t doing you no favors.”

  Rishi spoke up excitedly. “I still say it will put you on the map.”

  “It’ll put me in the poorhouse!” the Boss shouted. “I’ll go broke.”

  I was completely confused. “Can somebody please tell me what’s going on?”

  “Sure,” the Boss growled, “I’ll tell yuh. This little joker is about to cost me a boatload of money. He talked me into the dumbest thing I ever did. He said I should run a full-page ad for Mama’s in tomorrow’s daily paper. We sent it out right before da game.”

  “What’s so dumb about that?” I asked.

  He was ready to explode. “What’s so dumb? The ad promises that once we open, Mama’s gotta give away a whole day of free food for each G-Men loss between tomorrow and the grand opening. That’s still weeks away! I’ll go out of business before we even get going.”

  “Why did you agree to THAT?” I shouted, suddenly realizing that Rishi had just upped the pressure in my life by about a million percent.

  The Boss looked just as panicked. “I agreed to this cockamamie plan—”

  “Cockamamie!” Cheese interrupted. “Dat’s a funny word.”

  The Boss snapped his finger. Willy ran over and smacked Cheese on the head.

  “Ow!”

  The Boss continued, “I agreed to this cocka . . . this crazy plan because your dopey friend told me it was a lock! He said you’s was the best football player in America or something.”

  The two of us turned and faced Rishi. My “friend” was pacing in the corner of the locker room talking on his phone. After a minute he hung up and walked over to us. “I’ve got good news and bad news.”

  “What’s the bad news?” I asked, wondering whether I’d ever see my family again.

  “The paper’s already gone to press for tomorrow. The ad is running. There’s nothing we can do to stop it.”

  We all looked at each other. “Yeah?” the Boss finally asked. “So what’s the good news?”

  Rishi smiled proudly. “I was able to get us great placement. We’re on the back cover. Everyone from here to Cleveland will see it tomorrow, Mr. Boss.”

  Without warning, the Boss kicked the lockers so hard that Cheese and Willy jumped as high as Rishi and me. “Don’t call me Mr. Boss!” he yelled at Rishi. Then he glared in my direction. “You better make sure dat team of yours don’t lose no more games.”

  “But the G-Men haven’t won in like a hundred years!” I tried to explain.

  “Then go out and hire a hundred coaches. I don’t care if you gotta drop out of school and train the team round the clock. No more losses, ya got it? And you,” he shouted, returning his anger to Rishi, “you’d better make me lots of money with all your marketing stuff.”

  “Don’t worry, Mr. Boss.”

  Willy and Cheese cringed. I wanted to jump in a locker and hide. The Boss stared down at Rishi and took a deep breath. Finally he just shook his head. “Let’s go, boys.”

  The three of them left. Rishi stood smiling at me. “Wow.”

  “Wow?” I fought off an urge to strangle him. “What were you thinking with that ad?”

  Still smiling, he put his hands up. “Rodney, relax. You’re talking to Rishi, remember? Have I ever put you in a bad spot?”

  My face felt funny and I wondered if I was developing a twitch like my old teacher, Mrs. Lutzkraut. Rishi continued, “Don’t let the Boss’s temper get you worked up. We’re right where we want to be.”

  “I want to be home—safe, sound, and watching TV.”

  “Come on, I know you’re enjoying this as much as me. Besides, you’ll be famous after tomorrow.”

  “Listen, Rishi, I . . .” Suddenly my face definitely began to twitch. “Famous? Rishi, what did you do . . . ?”

  “Well the ad needed a picture to go along with the part about the G-Men, so I kind of used a photo of you.”

  My heart stopped. “Not the one from camp of me in a dress!”

  Rishi laughed. “No, a good one I took of you at practice. Boy, Rodney, you have to learn to trust me.”

  Trust Rishi? I couldn’t think of anything scarier if I tried.

  Chapter 8

  GARRETTSVILLE IDOL

  “Rodney, get up!” my dad yelled, pushing open my door. “It’s a wonderful morning!”

  “Huh?” I yawned.

  “Hurry! Get dressed and come down to breakfast.”

  I hadn’t seen him this excited since he found out Garrettsville had a Dairy Queen. “What’s the rush?” I asked.

  “Rush?” he echoed back. “I’ve been waiting all morning for you to get up.”

  I was about to ask why but he was gone in a flash. I pulled on my jeans and a T-shirt and shuffled down the stairs. Penny pushed her way past me going up the stairs. She looked glum.

  “Rodney, Rodney, Rodney. It’s all I hear.” She turned at the top of the stairs. “We both know this popularity stuff isn’t going to last.”

  She seemed even more annoyed at me than usual. What had set her off? I rounded into the kitchen and found the answer. My mom and dad were staring at a newspaper on the kitchen table. “Isn’t this exciting?” my mom gushed without taking her eyes from the paper.

  “Isn’t what exciting?” I started to ask but my dad interrupted me.

  “Put on some shoes. We’ve got to head down to the newsstand before they’re all gone!”

  “Before what’s all gone?”

  “This!”

  He held up the back page of the newspaper. A familiar-looking kid in a black-and-gold football uniform stared back at me. I took a step closer and saw there was a reason the kid’s face looked familiar. It was me! Taking up almost the whole page! In the picture I held my helmet in the crook of my arm. Several of my teammates were small and out of focus in the background but I was as large and sharp as could be. My hair was wet with sweat and I was staring off, looking serious and confident. Storm clouds hung dramatically low over the horizon. I definitely looked the part of football hero . . . I’d give Rishi that.

  My mom was smiling proudly. “You look so handsome and grown up. And look, the caption says, ‘Rodney Rathbone, G-Men Football Star.’ I want to mail a copy to Aunt Evelyn. Go with your dad and get some more. Hurry!”

  Sunday mornings are usually a quiet time at my house but today everyone was telling me to hurry. I ran down the driveway after my father. He was almost pulling away as I jumped in. “Be sure to get plenty of copies!” my mom called after us.

  As my dad and I drove downtown I kept thinking about the full-page ad in my hands. What would this mean for me? Yes, it was pretty cool to see myself occupying the back page of the newspaper, but what would happen in school? What would the rest of the team think of me being singled out? I knew that Trevor wouldn’t appreciate it. Just last night I had come to the conclusion that I needed Trevor more than ever if we were going to win the next few games.

  Win the next few games. I was so caught up in the picture of me that I had forgotten about the Boss. My stomach tightened into a knot. For the first time I let my eyes drift down to the writing below the photo:

  WE GUARANTEE THAT G-MEN FOOTBALL WINS EVERY GAME BETWEEN NOW AND THE GRAND OPENING . . . OR DINNER’S ON US!

  It was signed, THE GANG AT MAMA’S RESTAURANT.

  I gulped as my dad pulled into a spot. He was in a rush to get out of the car but I lingered, thinking that my sister had been right earlier. Thanks to Rishi’s dumb ad, everything would
be coming to an end real soon for me.

  Unless, of course, no one paid attention to it! A wave of relief suddenly washed over me. How silly I had been. The rest of Garrettsville probably wouldn’t even notice the ad.

  “There he is!” someone screamed. “It’s Rodney Rathbone!”

  “I saw him first,” another voice chimed in. They were all holding newspapers.

  My dad stood outside the car and held up his hands to the gathering crowd. “People, people, calm down. There’s plenty of Rodney for everyone.”

  What? As I slid down in the seat I heard him continue, “I just spoke to Rodney’s agent this morning and there will be a formal autograph session this afternoon. In the meantime, the father of the football star would be very happy to sign your newspapers!”

  His smile stretched from ear to ear. At least one Rathbone was enjoying himself.

  Any hopes that the advertisement would go unnoticed in school the next day were dashed before I even had a chance to walk through the front doors. Standing on the steps, quite near where my horrible, hated football career had begun, I was met by Rishi handing out newspapers to a throng of students.

  I was about to yell at him when my worries were replaced by an unexpectedly pleasant surprise. Fifteen or so girls stood clearly waiting for me. “I like your picture, Rodney,” said one girl who I didn’t even know. I think she was blushing. My pulse quickened. My mom had said I looked handsome, but moms always say that.

  “Errr, thanks,” I replied.

  “Can you sign mine?” asked another girl.

  I liked the attention, but then I saw Jessica among the group and my knees buckled. A number of hands helped prop me back up. I regained my composure as our eyes met. My face got hot and I smiled at her.

  Kayla stepped between us. My smile sagged. “Don’t think some fancy camera work and media attention is going to get you anywhere,” she scolded. “We know what you’re all about. Don’t we, Jessica. Jessica?”

  Jessica stepped around her and returned my smile. “I don’t want to be late for class. We’ll be at your next game, Rodney.”