Gang Tackle by Eric Howling

Chapter One
    The ball was snapped.
    Jamal broke from the line and raced down the right side. He had to get in the clear. Find an opening in the defense where he could catch the ball. That’s what the play called for. That’s what a wide receiver had to do.
    Jamal’s legs churned and his arms pumped. His eyes were focused straight ahead. The yards disappeared under him one long stride after another. He blazed straight down the field.
    The defender caught him. Carlos Lopez was the fastest safety Jamal had ever played against. He wasn’t tall or powerful, but he was sneaky quick. He covered Jamal like glue and stuck to him step for step. Watched his every move.
    Jamal cut to his left—a turn so sharp it surprised Carlos. He tripped and stumbled to the ground. Jamal was in the clear. He looked over his shoulder as the quarterback launched the ball. Darnell Williams had a gun for an arm, and the ball shot through the air like a bullet. A perfect spiral heading straight for his star wide receiver.
    Jamal reached out his arms. He watched the tip of the ball sail toward him. The leather landed softly on his fingertips, and he squeezed tight. Then he tucked the pigskin under his arm and dashed down the field.
    No one could catch him now. Not Carlos. Not Eli. Not Rico. He shifted into high gear as fifty yards flew by. He galloped across the goal line and raised the ball in the air. Touchdown!
    Carlos came panting up behind him. “You were lucky, dude.”
    “You know you can’t cover me.” Jamal grinned, flipping him the ball. “I’ve got too many moves.”
    “I had you, but I tripped on that huge clump of grass.” Carlos pointed to a large mound on the field. “This field sucks.”
    “Yeah, it’s brutal,” Jamal said, kicking some brown where there should have been green.
    “Has been ever since the Saints got canned last year.”
    “Yeah, I still can’t believe we’re not playing,” Jamal said. “Those budget cuts killed the football team.”
    “They could have cut the band or choir.” Carlos shook his head. “But no, they whacked the football program instead. What were they thinking?”
    “I guess they just ran out of money,” Jamal said with a shrug. “It’s not like we live in some flush part of Toronto. Just take a look around.” He pointed his thumb over his shoulder. Southside was getting more and more scuzzy. Rundown apartment buildings like the one he lived in needed new paint. Some houses were vacant with windows boarded up. Old cars were parked on the street, some so dusty they looked like they’d been there for months. Garbage was tossed in the alleys, and bus shelters had graffiti spray-painted on them. None of it bothered Jamal though. He had grown up in Southside. This was his home turf.
    “This should be the first day of practice,” Carlos said. “A real Saints practice. With real uniforms, pads and helmets. And a real coach. Not six guys running around in beat-up kicks and jeans on some crappy field with overgrown grass.”
    Jamal and Carlos jogged back to where the other four players stood. Darnell Williams and Billy Chang were on Jamal’s team. Eli Davis and Rico Bellini were on Carlos’s squad. They were all friends—all seventeen years old. And they had all played on the Saints the previous year. Quarterback, center, wide receiver, backup QB , halfback and safety. They had most of the key positions covered. Now they could only play pickup football after school.
    This was their first three-on-three game of the year. They had all just finished day one of their grade-twelve classes at Southside High. Or at least most of them had.
    “Didn’t see you in the halls today, Rico,” Eli said.
    “Hey, man, I was in the library studying all day,” he said, grinning.
    Billy burst out laughing. “You in the library all day? That’s a good one. Do you even know where it is?”
    “What’s the point in me going to school?” Rico asked. “We all know I’m just going to end up like my