silently, hoping she could read his lips: “Look who’s coming!”
She turned. She saw. Then she came running toward him, her face filled with concern.
“I didn’t think he’d show up!” she whispered tensely.
He frowned. “Why not?”
She looked at him contritely. “I’ve already told him, Jim.”
14
W hy,” he asked. “Why did
you
tell him?”
He had wanted to confront the rat himself. Why did she have to spoil it for him?
“Because I had to know why he did it,” she answered. A warm wind blew a strand of her hair across her face. She brushed it
back. “Jim> he blamed it on you. He said that if it weren’t for that motorbike accident, he would be playing football today,
instead of writing about it.”
Jim’s belly tightened into a knot. “I guess it’s not so hard to believe.”
“That he blamed you, you mean?”
“Yes. I suppose what happened was my fault, but my bike skidded.” He remembered the accident vividly now. He had tried to
blot it out of his memory ever since the day it had happened. “It was twoyears ago,” he explained. “We were racing the Winternationals in Tallahassee. Jerry and I were coming around a sharp turn.
I was on the inside. I struck a bump, and my front wheel twisted. My bike skidded and rammed into Jerry’s. He lost control,
ran into a guardrail, and injured his knee.”
“He said he was laid up in the hospital for three weeks,” Margo said.
“Yes. I went to see him every day. He was bitter about it. But I thought he got over it.”
The girls started another cheer.
“I’ve got to go,” said Margo. “See you later.”
Jim glanced past her as she dashed off to join the other cheerleaders. Jerry was approaching. He had slowed his pace now to
a walk.
Jim glared at him, then turned and started back to the spot he had vacated. He glanced toward the field and stood still as
he saw Barry running down to the right fiat. A Floralview Buc was about two yards behind him, closing the gap rapidly.
Jim saw the pass floating high through the air. It was coming down in front of Barry. Barry reached for it, got both hands
on it, and started to fumble it. For an instant Jim wished he would drop it, to ensurehis own starting place on the team. But Barry grabbed the ball before it dropped and pulled it safely to him, stumbling as
he did so. He fell, and skidded out of bounds. But he held on to the ball.
A roar rose from the Rams’ fans, and Jim found himself cheering, too.
“That-a-boy, Barry!” he yelled. “That’s the way to do it!”
It was a good catch. It was a thrilling catch. Barry’s determination to gain a spot on the starting lineup was clearly indicated
in that tough play.
Good for him, Jim thought. But Barry’s developing into a better player made him realize that he had to get back into the swing
himself, or Barry would take over his starting spot as tight end.
“Jim.”
He turned. Jerry was beside him, pale, a grieved look on his face.
“I’m quitting my job as sportswriter and photographer,” Jerry said nervously.
Jim studied his face. Jerry was sweating profusely. He met Jim’s eyes one moment and glanced away the next.
“Jerry, I never realized you wanted to play footballso badly that you blamed me for what happened,” said Jim.
“I didn’t think you did. That’s why I” — Jerry coughed — “That’s why I did what I did.” His eyes blinked. “I just wanted to
make one phone call, that was all. I never figured on making more, and doing those other things. But, once I got going, I
couldn’t stop. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah. I hope you’re satisfied, because you made it rough for me — and my family — for a while,” Jim said. “It wasn’t my fault
about that accident, but it was pretty rotten what you did.”
Jerry’s eyes blurred. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m really —”
“Jim Cort!” Coach Butler called. “Get in there! Take Barry’s place! Move!”
Jim put on his helmet and
She turned. She saw. Then she came running toward him, her face filled with concern.
“I didn’t think he’d show up!” she whispered tensely.
He frowned. “Why not?”
She looked at him contritely. “I’ve already told him, Jim.”
14
W hy,” he asked. “Why did
you
tell him?”
He had wanted to confront the rat himself. Why did she have to spoil it for him?
“Because I had to know why he did it,” she answered. A warm wind blew a strand of her hair across her face. She brushed it
back. “Jim> he blamed it on you. He said that if it weren’t for that motorbike accident, he would be playing football today,
instead of writing about it.”
Jim’s belly tightened into a knot. “I guess it’s not so hard to believe.”
“That he blamed you, you mean?”
“Yes. I suppose what happened was my fault, but my bike skidded.” He remembered the accident vividly now. He had tried to
blot it out of his memory ever since the day it had happened. “It was twoyears ago,” he explained. “We were racing the Winternationals in Tallahassee. Jerry and I were coming around a sharp turn.
I was on the inside. I struck a bump, and my front wheel twisted. My bike skidded and rammed into Jerry’s. He lost control,
ran into a guardrail, and injured his knee.”
“He said he was laid up in the hospital for three weeks,” Margo said.
“Yes. I went to see him every day. He was bitter about it. But I thought he got over it.”
The girls started another cheer.
“I’ve got to go,” said Margo. “See you later.”
Jim glanced past her as she dashed off to join the other cheerleaders. Jerry was approaching. He had slowed his pace now to
a walk.
Jim glared at him, then turned and started back to the spot he had vacated. He glanced toward the field and stood still as
he saw Barry running down to the right fiat. A Floralview Buc was about two yards behind him, closing the gap rapidly.
Jim saw the pass floating high through the air. It was coming down in front of Barry. Barry reached for it, got both hands
on it, and started to fumble it. For an instant Jim wished he would drop it, to ensurehis own starting place on the team. But Barry grabbed the ball before it dropped and pulled it safely to him, stumbling as
he did so. He fell, and skidded out of bounds. But he held on to the ball.
A roar rose from the Rams’ fans, and Jim found himself cheering, too.
“That-a-boy, Barry!” he yelled. “That’s the way to do it!”
It was a good catch. It was a thrilling catch. Barry’s determination to gain a spot on the starting lineup was clearly indicated
in that tough play.
Good for him, Jim thought. But Barry’s developing into a better player made him realize that he had to get back into the swing
himself, or Barry would take over his starting spot as tight end.
“Jim.”
He turned. Jerry was beside him, pale, a grieved look on his face.
“I’m quitting my job as sportswriter and photographer,” Jerry said nervously.
Jim studied his face. Jerry was sweating profusely. He met Jim’s eyes one moment and glanced away the next.
“Jerry, I never realized you wanted to play footballso badly that you blamed me for what happened,” said Jim.
“I didn’t think you did. That’s why I” — Jerry coughed — “That’s why I did what I did.” His eyes blinked. “I just wanted to
make one phone call, that was all. I never figured on making more, and doing those other things. But, once I got going, I
couldn’t stop. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah. I hope you’re satisfied, because you made it rough for me — and my family — for a while,” Jim said. “It wasn’t my fault
about that accident, but it was pretty rotten what you did.”
Jerry’s eyes blurred. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m really —”
“Jim Cort!” Coach Butler called. “Get in there! Take Barry’s place! Move!”
Jim put on his helmet and
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