Perfect Season by Tim Green Page A

grabbing a fistful of Troy’s shirt, his eyes scanning the other side of the field to make sure the coaches weren’t looking. “You pencil-necked little wimp, you think you’re better than me ?”
    Troy stared right back at him. “I know I am, and so do you . . .”
    There was a low, growling noise behind Troy. “Hey. Let him go.”
    Troy turned and saw Chance Bryant baring his teeth.
    â€œYeah.” Big Nick Lee, the starting center on the offensive line, stepped up. “Let him go. You’re not afraid of him, are you?”
    â€œAfraid of what ?” Reed shoved Troy away from him, dusting his hands.
    â€œAfraid he’ll take your job?” Nick Lee said.
    â€œAre you kidding?” Reed said. “This little baby?”
    â€œGood.” Chance Bryant rumbled like a belch of thunder. “Then leave him alone. If he is our quarterback, you don’t touch him. No one does. You know that. No one touches our quarterback, whether it’s you . . . or him.”
    Troy tried not to grin, but so much delight bubbled up inside him, it had to come out somewhere.
    Chuku leaned close, sharing his smile. “Looks like you got a pair of guardian angels, brother.”
    â€œWho’s the second?” Troy asked.
    â€œDo you not realize how close that caveman was to being laid out by the good-looking part of the Killer Kombo?” Chuku made a flourishing motion with his hand before he touched his own chest.
    On the far side of the field, Seth’s whistle blew, ending the drama.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
    THE VERY NEXT EVENING, Seth’s new team had its second practice, and the obvious separation of abilities between Troy and the two older quarterbacks only grew.
    Troy and Chuku each seemed to know what the other was thinking, and they completed every pass. Spencer and Levi, too, quickly developed good rhythms with Troy.
    â€œOkay.” Coach Sindoni knelt down in the second-string huddle with a greaseboard. “You guys look like you’re ready for something a little more advanced. I call this ‘Sticks and Stones,’ because it’ll break the defense’s bones.”
    The coach drew up a play that had Spencer and Chuku run deep crossing routes with Levi and the other outside receiver running comebacks. Troy repeated the name of the play and gave them a snap count. He broke the huddle and approached the center. Troy read the defense in front of him—the defense they hoped to break.
    Troy called the cadence and took the snap. His corps of young receivers took off down the field. Troy pump-faked to Chuku, drawing the free safety to one side, then launched a strike to Spencer that left him in the end zone with the ball held high.
    Troy hooted and he and his receivers all bumped fists on their way back to the huddle. Troy couldn’t help overhearing Seth as he walked up to Coach Sindoni. “We’re awfully young.”
    â€œAnd we’re awfully good, too,” Coach Sindoni replied with a grin.
    Even though the night went well, Seth lined them up after practice and made them run cross-fields until Big Nick Lee puked. Seth frowned at the mess on his sideline but said nothing. Instead, he blew his whistle to call them all in. The night had begun to cool and bugs whizzed through the glow of the stadium lights above them. The players surrounded Seth on one knee, panting and sweating hard.
    Seth asked, “You guys know why I made you run so hard? Big Nick Lee, you okay?”
    Nick Lee wiped puke from the corner of his mouth, nodded, and grinned.
    The team only huffed and puffed, trying to catch their collective breath.
    Seth snorted. “I had you guys run hard to show you how doggone out of shape you are. You’ve been doing things here the wrong way for a long time. We can turn this thing around—we will turn this thing around—but it’s gonna take a lot of hard work. You can’t be a champion if