stammered.
“Could’ve,” said Stubbs. “Or it could be that you left it near the fountain outside. A couple of the guys gave Coach Isaac
some lip. He sent them back to do a few laps while you were getting cleaned up. One of them brought it in.”
The door next to the equipment room had opened. Coach Isaac had come out and had heard Stubbs’s story.
“You seem to be having some memory problems, Parker,” Coach Isaac said. “I know just the thing for it. Get to practice early
tomorrow and do fifteen laps. And don’t give me a short count. I may not be there to watch you, but I’ll know.”
Parker didn’t say a word. He just nodded and picked up his gym bag. Fifteen laps! On top of his regular warmups? By the time
scrimmage starts, I’ll need a stretcher, he thought ruefully.
2
H ow was school today?” asked Mrs. Nolan after dinner. “You’ve both been very quiet. Anything wrong?”
Parker watched to see if Melissa would squawk about her bike. But the ten-year-old girl was silent.
“Nothin’ special, Mom,” he said. “Just the usual. Classes. Football practice.”
“You didn’t get hurt during practice, Parker, did you?”
She always worried about him. He used to talk about football with his father all the time. But in the three years since Mr.
Nolan had died, Parker had shrugged off any discussion about the game.
“No, I’m fine, really,” he said. “C’mon, Melissa, I’ll play cards with you.”
“That should really make me wonder if something’s wrong.” Mrs. Nolan laughed. “But I’m not going to worry about it. This working
gal is going to soak in a nice hot tub for a while. Then I’m going to bed. Don’t stay up too late — and no watching those
horror movies on TV.”
“They’re not horror movies,” protested Melissa. “They’re called whodummits.”
“Whodunits,”
Parker said.
“I don’t know,” replied Melissa innocently.
Mrs. Nolan rolled her eyes and went upstairs.
She’d hardly left the room before Melissa had dealt out the whole deck of cards.
The game of War began.
Parker stared down at the pile of cards in front of him. He turned one over. It was a nine.
Slowly Melissa turned over a card: a ten.
She scooped up both overturned cards and tucked them under her pile.
Parker stretched and turned over another card. It was the ace of clubs.
Melissa turned over hers: the ace of diamonds.
“War!” she shouted, her voice filled with joy.
A few minutes later, she wasn’t so happy. Parker had collected the pile of cards and was now ahead. Several hands later, his
stack was even thicker.
“Listen, Melissa,” he said. “Let’s take a break for a minute, okay? Why don’t you watch some TV or something?”
“What’s the matter, Parker?” she asked. “ ’Fraid I’m going to stage a comeback?”
“Naw,” he replied, “I’m really just not in the mood for War right now. I’ve got other things on my mind.”
“Like what?” she asked him seriously.
Should I tell her? he wondered. It’s not that big a deal. But what did he have to lose?
“Well, practice was kind of rough today,” he began. “Everyone was on my case over my stupid helmet.”
He told her about getting razzed by the guys for leaving it on the sidelines. That wasn’t too bad, he pointed out. But then
he described whathappened at the equipment room and the coach’s reaction. He didn’t mind having to do the extra laps, he confessed. It was
the coach’s attitude that hurt.
“And that’s the whole story?” she asked.
“That’s it.”
“Everything?”
“What is this, the third degree?”
Melissa swept the cards up from the table and began to put them in their box.
“I don’t know why you’re so surprised the coach didn’t believe you. You know, Parker, you’re not exactly famous for telling
the truth,” she said in her smug, ten-year-old, matter-of-fact voice. Just the sound of it bugged him.
“Oh, sure, you know everything, and
“Could’ve,” said Stubbs. “Or it could be that you left it near the fountain outside. A couple of the guys gave Coach Isaac
some lip. He sent them back to do a few laps while you were getting cleaned up. One of them brought it in.”
The door next to the equipment room had opened. Coach Isaac had come out and had heard Stubbs’s story.
“You seem to be having some memory problems, Parker,” Coach Isaac said. “I know just the thing for it. Get to practice early
tomorrow and do fifteen laps. And don’t give me a short count. I may not be there to watch you, but I’ll know.”
Parker didn’t say a word. He just nodded and picked up his gym bag. Fifteen laps! On top of his regular warmups? By the time
scrimmage starts, I’ll need a stretcher, he thought ruefully.
2
H ow was school today?” asked Mrs. Nolan after dinner. “You’ve both been very quiet. Anything wrong?”
Parker watched to see if Melissa would squawk about her bike. But the ten-year-old girl was silent.
“Nothin’ special, Mom,” he said. “Just the usual. Classes. Football practice.”
“You didn’t get hurt during practice, Parker, did you?”
She always worried about him. He used to talk about football with his father all the time. But in the three years since Mr.
Nolan had died, Parker had shrugged off any discussion about the game.
“No, I’m fine, really,” he said. “C’mon, Melissa, I’ll play cards with you.”
“That should really make me wonder if something’s wrong.” Mrs. Nolan laughed. “But I’m not going to worry about it. This working
gal is going to soak in a nice hot tub for a while. Then I’m going to bed. Don’t stay up too late — and no watching those
horror movies on TV.”
“They’re not horror movies,” protested Melissa. “They’re called whodummits.”
“Whodunits,”
Parker said.
“I don’t know,” replied Melissa innocently.
Mrs. Nolan rolled her eyes and went upstairs.
She’d hardly left the room before Melissa had dealt out the whole deck of cards.
The game of War began.
Parker stared down at the pile of cards in front of him. He turned one over. It was a nine.
Slowly Melissa turned over a card: a ten.
She scooped up both overturned cards and tucked them under her pile.
Parker stretched and turned over another card. It was the ace of clubs.
Melissa turned over hers: the ace of diamonds.
“War!” she shouted, her voice filled with joy.
A few minutes later, she wasn’t so happy. Parker had collected the pile of cards and was now ahead. Several hands later, his
stack was even thicker.
“Listen, Melissa,” he said. “Let’s take a break for a minute, okay? Why don’t you watch some TV or something?”
“What’s the matter, Parker?” she asked. “ ’Fraid I’m going to stage a comeback?”
“Naw,” he replied, “I’m really just not in the mood for War right now. I’ve got other things on my mind.”
“Like what?” she asked him seriously.
Should I tell her? he wondered. It’s not that big a deal. But what did he have to lose?
“Well, practice was kind of rough today,” he began. “Everyone was on my case over my stupid helmet.”
He told her about getting razzed by the guys for leaving it on the sidelines. That wasn’t too bad, he pointed out. But then
he described whathappened at the equipment room and the coach’s reaction. He didn’t mind having to do the extra laps, he confessed. It was
the coach’s attitude that hurt.
“And that’s the whole story?” she asked.
“That’s it.”
“Everything?”
“What is this, the third degree?”
Melissa swept the cards up from the table and began to put them in their box.
“I don’t know why you’re so surprised the coach didn’t believe you. You know, Parker, you’re not exactly famous for telling
the truth,” she said in her smug, ten-year-old, matter-of-fact voice. Just the sound of it bugged him.
“Oh, sure, you know everything, and
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