Three-Point Play by Todd Hafer Page A

scolded himself. Way to think on your feet.
    â€œAnyway,” she was saying, “it’s kinda free-form poetry or whatever. It’s not exactly Mother Goose. If you think it stinks or whatever, you can just throw it away and forget this whole thing ever happened.”
    â€œNo—I’m sure I’ll like it, Hart. Thanks—again.” He turned and headed for the locker room. He pulled back his shoulders and straightened his spine as he walked. He wanted to make himself taller, just in case she was watching.

    Cody held the folded-up paper against his leg as he entered the locker room. Can’t let anyone see this, he thought. Especially now that all the JV and varsity guys are here too. That’s all I need is for one of them to notice. Chop will confiscate it, stand on a bench, and read it to the whole team.
    Feeling a new sweat coming over him—a nervous sweat, not an athletic one—he fumbled with his lock, almost chastising himself out loud when his haste caused him to miss the third number in his combination.
    He exhaled in relief when he felt the lock give way on his second attempt. He poked his hand in the locker and tucked the note into the back pocket of his jeans.
    Man, I’d give anything to know what it says , he thought as he unlaced his shoes. He tried to think of the last time a girl had passed him a note. To the best of his recollection, it was fourth grade, when Jill Keller had presented him with a homemade, one-question multiple-choice quiz:
    Do you like me?
    Yes____     No _____      Maybe _____
    It was the hardest quiz Cody had taken up to that point in life. He had made up a fourth choice—“As a Friend”—then marked it and returned it to Jill via one of her friends. Jill didn’t speak to him for two weeks.
    But eventually she had turned her fourth-grade affection to Pork Chop. He checked “Yes” on his note, and Cody was forgotten, if not forgiven.
    Pork Chop and Jill lasted about a month, until she grew tired of sharing him with half the girls in the grade.
    Cody caught himself smiling at the recollection. Jill and Robyn were best friends now. He wondered if Jill had ever told Robyn about her brief infatuation with him. If she even remembered it.
    â€œYou forget how to get out of your gear?”
    Pork Chop’s voice invaded Cody’s thoughts, and he hoped his friend didn’t notice that he had startled at the sound of it.
    â€œOh, hey, Chop. Good practice?”
    Pork Chop nodded. “Dawg, we are so ready for Claxton Hills. We’re gonna put a whuppin’ on’em— get revenge for football.”
    Cody whistled through his teeth. “I hope so. But those guys are good.”
    â€œSo are we.”
    Pork Chop paused for a few moments, then said, “So, Code, what’s on your mind? You looked like you were contemplating the meaning of the universe just now.”
    Cody tried to laugh nonchalantly. “Oh, it’s nothing, Chop. I’m just kinda tired, I guess.”
    â€œYeah, I’m sure that’s what’s up.” Chop was smiling like he knew a secret .
    Man , Cody marveled to himself . This guy reads me like Elway used to read defenses.
    Cody tried to keep from tumbling into his locker when Chop clapped him across the back. “Anyway, dawg, if you wanna kick it, you know where to find me.”
    Cody took the shortest shower of his life. He studied his watch, which read 5:56. Only four minutes to find a private place, read Robyn’s poem, then sprint to the parking lot so that he wouldn’t be late and suffer his dad’s glaring at him all the way home—and all through dinner.
    He bolted from the locker room and into the large restroom in the gym lobby. He locked himself in a stall and retrieved the paper from his pocket. Well , he thought as he unfolded Robyn’s handiwork, this isn’t the most artistic setting in which to read