championship game. If Troy could get a place on a team like that, then the path to playing at a Division I college and, ultimately, in the NFL would be a lot clearer.
The only downer during the day was when Jamie Renfro came up behind Troy at lunchtime.
“What kind of genius would say so many stupid things to a reporter?” Renfro asked his friends in a voice loud enough so Troy and his friends could hear them.
Troy clenched his fists, but Tate put her hand on his arm and said, “Don’t go for the bait. He’d love nothing more than to get you into trouble so you can’t play Saturday.”
Troy nodded and bit into his sandwich, chewing mechanically.
On the way home from school, Nathan and Tate rode the bus past the Pine Grove Apartments and got off with Troy at the end of the drive that wound back through the pines to his house. Seth’s yellow H2 sat snuggled up next to the VW Bug on the red dirt patch out front. On the porch, Troy’s mom stood behind an easel alternately looking up at the pine trees and dabbing paint onto her canvas.
“They say to paint what you know,” she said, wiping at a smear of paint on her nose with the back of her wrist, “and I see pine trees in my sleep.”
Inside, Seth sat at the kitchen table hunched over his notebook and a stack of papers, drawing and writing furiously.
Troy took three sodas from the fridge and passed them out. Nathan grabbed a banana from the bowl on the table and began peeling it.
“Hey,” Seth said, looking up when he finally realized the three of them were surrounding him at the table.
“I got some plays and coverages to show you,” Troy said, holding up his notebook.
“Okay,” Seth said, “but Troy, can I talk to you first?”
“Sure,” Troy said.
“Outside?”
Troy shrugged at his friends and followed Seth out the back door. Seth took a few steps across the carpet of fallen pine needles and turned.
“You said a lot of things that Peele took out of context,” Seth said, “things he twisted around so they would sound worse than you meant them.”
“Yeah,” Troy said, studying Seth’s face.
“I just need to know, Troy,” Seth said. “Did you talk to Peele about Doc Gumble and that vitamin shot I told you I was getting?”
“What?” Troy said, narrowing his eyes and shaking his head. “No. I didn’t.”
“And you’re sure?” Seth asked.
“Yes,” Troy said. “The only thing I did was ask him why he followed us that day.”
“Followed us?” Seth said.
Troy bit into his lower lip and nodded. “I didn’t say anything because, I don’t know, it seemed so weird, I wasn’t sure it was really him. I thought he took a picture of me and drove off. Why?”
Seth frowned and said, “That’s what McFadden and Mr. Langan wanted to see me about today. They got word that Peele may be doing a story about me supposedly using steroids.”
“But you’re not,” Troy said, the words coming out almost like a question.
Seth looked at him hard and said, “No. I’m not, and I never did. If you didn’t say anything about that vitamin shot, something he could twist around, then I’m not worried. Peele might just be spreading a rumor. Come on, let’s get back inside. Forget I even asked.”
Together they returned to the kitchen. Troy flipped through his notebook, pointing out his ideas to Seth.
“I like it,” Seth said. “We can combine your ideas with mine. I’ve been busy, too.”
Seth held up the stack of papers he’d been working on when they arrived and said, “Take a look at this. I spoke to a newspaper reporter I know from down in Macon who gave me a heck of a scouting report on Valdosta. They run the Tampa Two defense, so I was thinking—”
“Wait,” Troy said, holding up a hand. “A reporter?”
“Well, yeah, a guy I know,” Seth said, tapping his pen on the notebook. “So I was thinking that maybe we’ll play Rusty Howell in the slot, to really attack the seam up the middle of the field. We
The only downer during the day was when Jamie Renfro came up behind Troy at lunchtime.
“What kind of genius would say so many stupid things to a reporter?” Renfro asked his friends in a voice loud enough so Troy and his friends could hear them.
Troy clenched his fists, but Tate put her hand on his arm and said, “Don’t go for the bait. He’d love nothing more than to get you into trouble so you can’t play Saturday.”
Troy nodded and bit into his sandwich, chewing mechanically.
On the way home from school, Nathan and Tate rode the bus past the Pine Grove Apartments and got off with Troy at the end of the drive that wound back through the pines to his house. Seth’s yellow H2 sat snuggled up next to the VW Bug on the red dirt patch out front. On the porch, Troy’s mom stood behind an easel alternately looking up at the pine trees and dabbing paint onto her canvas.
“They say to paint what you know,” she said, wiping at a smear of paint on her nose with the back of her wrist, “and I see pine trees in my sleep.”
Inside, Seth sat at the kitchen table hunched over his notebook and a stack of papers, drawing and writing furiously.
Troy took three sodas from the fridge and passed them out. Nathan grabbed a banana from the bowl on the table and began peeling it.
“Hey,” Seth said, looking up when he finally realized the three of them were surrounding him at the table.
“I got some plays and coverages to show you,” Troy said, holding up his notebook.
“Okay,” Seth said, “but Troy, can I talk to you first?”
“Sure,” Troy said.
“Outside?”
Troy shrugged at his friends and followed Seth out the back door. Seth took a few steps across the carpet of fallen pine needles and turned.
“You said a lot of things that Peele took out of context,” Seth said, “things he twisted around so they would sound worse than you meant them.”
“Yeah,” Troy said, studying Seth’s face.
“I just need to know, Troy,” Seth said. “Did you talk to Peele about Doc Gumble and that vitamin shot I told you I was getting?”
“What?” Troy said, narrowing his eyes and shaking his head. “No. I didn’t.”
“And you’re sure?” Seth asked.
“Yes,” Troy said. “The only thing I did was ask him why he followed us that day.”
“Followed us?” Seth said.
Troy bit into his lower lip and nodded. “I didn’t say anything because, I don’t know, it seemed so weird, I wasn’t sure it was really him. I thought he took a picture of me and drove off. Why?”
Seth frowned and said, “That’s what McFadden and Mr. Langan wanted to see me about today. They got word that Peele may be doing a story about me supposedly using steroids.”
“But you’re not,” Troy said, the words coming out almost like a question.
Seth looked at him hard and said, “No. I’m not, and I never did. If you didn’t say anything about that vitamin shot, something he could twist around, then I’m not worried. Peele might just be spreading a rumor. Come on, let’s get back inside. Forget I even asked.”
Together they returned to the kitchen. Troy flipped through his notebook, pointing out his ideas to Seth.
“I like it,” Seth said. “We can combine your ideas with mine. I’ve been busy, too.”
Seth held up the stack of papers he’d been working on when they arrived and said, “Take a look at this. I spoke to a newspaper reporter I know from down in Macon who gave me a heck of a scouting report on Valdosta. They run the Tampa Two defense, so I was thinking—”
“Wait,” Troy said, holding up a hand. “A reporter?”
“Well, yeah, a guy I know,” Seth said, tapping his pen on the notebook. “So I was thinking that maybe we’ll play Rusty Howell in the slot, to really attack the seam up the middle of the field. We
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