Go Long! Read online

  Whatever it was they were talking about, Ronde thought, it definitely wasn’t something happy. Coach Spangler had his hand on Mr. Pellugi’s shoulder and was talking intensely.

  Ronde sure hoped everything was okay. It was way too early in the season for trouble to raise its ugly head.

  CHAPTER TWO

  A SHOCK TO THE SYSTEM

  * * *

  TIKI WATCHED THE HAND OF THE CLOCK ON THE wall as it ticked off the seconds till the end of last period.

  Wow, he thought, as Mr. Mills droned on and on about the Dark Ages, a minute is a really, really, really long time!

  When you had to sit on a wooden desk chair for fifty minutes at a time, seven hours a day, Monday through Friday, all year long, it could be total torture. Especially if the teacher was a real nerd and not the least bit entertaining.

  It was even worse with a teacher like Mr. Mills, who spoke like he was talking in his sleep.

  Only six more minutes till the bell rings, and football starts, Tiki told himself, sighing heavily.

  Tick . . . tick . . . tick . . . tick . . .

  Actually, it had been a really good day until this last period. All his other teachers were at least okay—and two of them, Ms. Simms, his Science teacher, and Mr. Kaye, his Math teacher, were a lot better than okay.

  Tiki thought it was going to be a fantastic school year—until he stepped into Mr. Mills’s bone-deadly World History class. Tiki was afraid he might die of boredom before the period finally, mercifully ended.

  Tick . . . tick . . . tick . . . tick . . .

  Only five minutes to go.

  As Mr. Mills went on describing just how dark the Dark Ages really were, Tiki’s mind wandered back to those dark looks between Coach Spangler and Mr. Pellugi. He wondered what they meant.

  Maybe one of the Eagles’ key players had suffered an injury—like last year, when Matt Clayton broke his leg at summer camp and missed the first part of the season.

  Matt had come back just in time to help them win the championship, but Tiki could imagine how the coaches would feel if the injury curse struck again.

  “In the year 1000, people took baths only once a year,” Mr. Mills was saying. “That’s why weddings traditionally happen in June—right after everyone’s annual bath . . .”

  Tiki felt glad that he lived in the modern age, not back in the Dark Ages. He could only imagine how bad people must have smelled back then.

  “ . . . it’s also why the rich used so much perfume,” Mr. Mills finished. “Any questions?”

  Tiki’s eyes went back to the clock on the wall. Why did they put clocks on classroom walls? he wondered. It just made you think about being stuck in school on a beautiful day.

  Tick . . . tick . . . tick . . .

  RRRING!

  Finally! Tiki grabbed his notebooks and his new textbook and stuffed them into his book bag. While the other kids milled around, talking to each other and blocking the aisles, Tiki tucked his book bag under his arm like a football and dodged his way between them, pretending they were defenders trying to keep him out of the end zone.

  Classes were over for the day, and nothing—nothing—was going to keep him from making it to the locker room!

  He sped down the hallway, drawing a whistle from an annoyed hall monitor. But Tiki didn’t stop—he didn’t even slow down. Not until he’d made it down the stairs to field level and through the double swinging doors into the boys’ locker room.

  “Hey, Barber’s here!” someone shouted, and instantly, everyone got up and cheered, high-fiving Tiki.

  “Welcome back, Ronde!” said wide receiver Fred Soule, clapping him on the back.

  “It’s me—Tiki.”

  “Gimme a break,” Fred said. “How’m I supposed to tell you apart when you’re not wearing your uniform?”

  Everyone laughed, and Tiki couldn’t help joining in. He wished football season went on all year long.

  Finding his way back to his locker from last year, he found that it was empty and waiting for him. On the bench in front of it was a pile of new stuff.

  On top of the pile was a set of pads and a plain blue number two practice jersey. Underneath was a blue jersey with yellow stripes and numbers for away games. Beneath that was a white jersey with yellow stripes and numbers—that was for home games. There were two pairs of white pants, six pairs of blue socks, and last but not least, a new white helmet, with a blue number two on one side and that fierce blue eagle on the other side, its claws extended outward.

  “Awesome!” Tiki said under his breath as he started changing. Somehow, he only ever felt well dressed when he was in his full football uniform. No other feeling came close.

  He trotted out onto the field for the first time this new season, his cleats piercing the perfect green grass, a big smile plastered across his face.

  “Hey, Barber!” a voice yelled. “Heads up!”

  Tiki turned, and the sizzling spiral Cody had thrown him without warning hit him square in the chest.

  Tiki flinched but somehow caught the ball cleanly and flipped it back to Cody.

  “Nice catch,” Cody said, nodding with approval. “Soft hands—I like it, I like it!”

  With any luck, that pass would be repeated dozens of times this season, with devastating effect on their opponents. But Tiki couldn’t help wondering what Cody would have said if he’d dropped the ball.

  It didn’t take long to find out. When Fred Soule, the Eagles’ number one wide receiver, jogged out onto the field from the locker room, Cody pulled the same stunt on him. Except that Fred juggled the ball and dropped it.

  “Oh, no! Hands of stone!” Cody groaned. “Better dip your hands in some glue, Soule.”

  “How ’bout warning me next time?” Fred said, annoyed.

  “Gotta be heads up, yo,” Cody said coolly. “If you’re not ready to catch the pass, someone else will be ready to take your spot. Right, Barber?”

  Tiki walked away, pretending not to hear. If Cody was going to act like a brat, Tiki wanted no part of it.

  He sure wished Matt Clayton was still at Hidden Valley. It would have been so much more fun to be in the backfield with someone he really liked.

  Ronde trotted out onto the field, wearing his new number five practice jersey. “Come on, Tiki,” he said, “let’s go watch the seventh graders try out.”

  Tiki was just as curious as Ronde to see what kind of new talent had shown up for tryouts.

  And there was a lot of it. This year’s crop of seventh graders was even bigger and stronger than the kids in Tiki and Ronde’s class. None of them were as fast as the Barber brothers, but then, not many kids were.

  The coaches saw Tiki and Ronde coming and signaled for them to hurry up. “I want you two to help work with these new guys at the drill stations,” Coach Pellugi told them. “Don’t take it easy on them, either. We need to get a real good look at them.”

  Tiki and Ronde led a group of seventh graders over to the rope grid, designed for broken-field running, Tiki’s and Ronde’s specialty.

  Tricky footwork was important not only for a running back like Tiki, but also for kickoff and punt returners. And this year, Ronde was the team’s number one return specialist as well as its starting cornerback.

  Tiki noticed that Coach Spangler was hanging back with his clipboard, taking notes on all the new kids. He did that last year, too, Tiki thought, remembering how curious he’d been to know what the coach was writing about him.

  Those tryouts had been the most nerve-wracking days of his life. It seemed funny to him now. How could he possibly have thought that, with all his and Ronde’s talent, they might not make it? But while they were going through those anxious moments, it had been total torture.

  These poor seventh graders were facing those awful moments now, he knew. Thank goodness he only had to watch, help them out, and give them encouragement.

  “Don’t worry about it, kid,” he told one boy who tripped while hopping his way through the rope grid. “Ju
st pick yourself up and keep moving forward. Hang on to your spirit, now.”

  The boy nodded, not smiling, and kept going, finishing the course without any further slips. Tiki knew that his kind words must have helped. He remembered how important Matt Clayton’s support had been for him and Ronde the year before.

  Some of these kids would soon be his teammates. The rest, their hearts broken, would have to make other plans. Tiki thought of his old friend Jason, who hadn’t made the team last year but had gone on to star in track.

  You just can’t let things get you down too much, Tiki thought. Funny, he sounded just like his mom. She was always saying stuff like that to him and Ronde.

  “Play proud,” she would tell them both before every single game—and she never, ever missed one. She’s our biggest fan, Tiki thought. Not everybody gets so lucky in the mom department.

  He saw Ronde giving some advice to another boy, who was small like the two of them and seemed close to tears. “Hang in there, dude,” Ronde was saying. “Don’t give up. Hey, I was smaller than you last year, and I’m on the starting team now.”

  The boy nodded and trotted off to the next drill station. Ronde came over to Tiki. “It’s looking good,” he said approvingly.

  Tiki had to agree. The future of the Eagles seemed bright. He saw future stars on offensive and defensive lines, at linebacker, and at quarterback, where a tall, thin boy with a super-strong throwing arm was drawing oohs and ahs from kids and coaches alike.

  After about an hour and a half, Coach Spangler gathered the new recruits, gave them a speech, and sent them home. Then he led the returning team members into the locker room.

  Everyone was sweaty and tired and aching all over from using muscles they hadn’t used since last fall. But nobody started changing or went to the showers. Everybody’s eyes were glued to Coach Spangler as he addressed the team at the start of their new season.

  “Welcome back, boys,” he began, looking them over. “It’s good to see all of you, a year older, and hopefully a year wiser.”

  That got a laugh, but Tiki noticed that Coach Spangler didn’t even smile. That wasn’t like him. He was a tough coach, but not beyond cracking a joke or two with his players.

  “I think you could all see today what kind of future this team is going to have,” he said. This got a big, whooping round of applause. “I agree,” he went on. “Those seventh graders are going to make a big contribution one day—maybe even this year.

  “Now . . .” He paused, looked down, and cleared his throat. “You boys are going to have a great season ahead of you, if you work hard. I think this team will be even better than last year’s model—and there’s no reason we can’t win another District Championship; maybe even make a run at the State title . . .”

  Another round of whoops and hollering. Coach Spangler waited, again looking down at the floor, as if he were weighted down by something heavy and dark.

  “Now, you’re going to have to work even harder than last year to do it—because unfortunately, I won’t be able to be here with you.”

  A gasp went up from the group of stunned players. Tiki felt like he’d been suddenly punched in the gut.

  “Coach Hendrik over at Cave Spring High is taking a year’s leave of absence—he’s having back surgery—and the district has asked me to take over for him this season . . . I think you know how much I hate to leave this team . . .”

  He stopped, swallowed hard, and looked down at the ground again. The room was so silent, Tiki could hear the ringing in his ears.

  “ . . . but I really don’t have much of a choice. It’s, um, an honor to be asked to coach at the high school level, and . . . on the other hand, it’s been an privilege to coach you boys, and lead you to the District Championship . . .”

  Another silence. Suddenly, someone said, “You’re the man, Coach.”

  And then, boys started chanting: “Coach! Coach! Coach! Coach!” The chant echoed deafeningly in the locker room, and some boys started pounding on lockers, making a drumbeat to go along with the chant.

  Coach Spangler swallowed hard. He held up his hands for quiet, and the noise died down quickly. “I know how you boys must feel,” he said. “Part of me feels the same way. But I also know you can overcome this, just like you overcame every obstacle last season.”

  Yeah, Tiki thought, but that was a different team. Half of us were riding the bench last year, like Ronde and me . . .

  “Will you be back next year, Coach?” Paco asked. He, like Tiki and Ronde, would still be at Hidden Valley, so it was a very important question.

  “I don’t know, son,” Coach Spangler said. “We’ll see what happens. In the meantime, your job is to devote yourselves to winning this year. I expect you all to give the new coach, whoever it is, your full support—just as you would if it was me.”

  “Who’s it going to be?” Adam Gunkler asked. He was the Eagles’ kicker—an eighth grader like Tiki and Ronde and one of their old friends from Peewee League.

  Coach Spangler had spotted Adam as a kicking talent, giving him a starting spot as a seventh grader when most other coaches wouldn’t have even let him on the team. Adam had come through with an all-star season.

  “Nobody knows yet who the new coach will be,” said Spangler. “It’s not up to me, so I can’t help you there—but whoever it is, I’m sure they’ll be up to the job.”

  “Nobody’s gonna be as good as you, Coach,” said starting fullback John Berra, who had played two years under Coach Spangler.

  “Well, thanks, Johnnie B.,” said the coach, looking down at the floor again. “I’m gonna miss all of you boys—each and every one of you. But I’ll have my eye on you all—so don’t even think about slacking off. Now get back out there and give me ten laps for a final send-off!”

  Everyone just sat there, stunned. A couple of kids started to protest, but Coach Spangler wasn’t having any of it. “Let’s go! Let’s go!” he barked, clapping his hands. “Lemme see some hustle!”

  Slowly, gradually, the team members got up and jogged off down the field. Some were shaking their heads in bewilderment. Others kept their heads down in silence. A few muttered to one another about how unfair it was.

  But Tiki just sat there on the bench, stunned. He looked over and saw that Ronde was as frozen as a statue.

  Tiki knew what his twin was thinking—the same thing he was: How were they going to have a winning team without the winningest coach in Hidden Valley history?

  CHAPTER THREE

  TROUBLED TIMES

  * * *

  “YOUR SHIRT IS ON BACKWARD, TIKI,” RONDE SAID AS they shuffled out of the locker room after showering and changing.

  “So what?” Tiki said in a dull voice. “And anyhow, yours is on inside out.”

  Ronde looked down and was surprised to see that it was true. He’d been so distracted and upset by the bad news that he hadn’t even been paying attention.

  “You should tie your shoelaces too,” Tiki said. “You’re gonna trip over them.”

  “Man,” Ronde said, shaking his head as he bent down to tie them, “I sure wasn’t expecting this.”

  “Me neither.”

  “You think they’ll find somebody good?”

  Tiki shrugged. “How do I know? Do I look like a fortune-teller?”

  “Man, I feel sick.”

  “I’ll tell you this much. Whoever they do get to be the coach, he won’t be half as good.”

  “You got that right. Nobody could be as good as Coach Spangler.”

  Paco came lumbering up behind them. “Hey, dudes,” he said, breathing hard. “Does this stink, or what?”

  “I don’t even want to talk about it,” Ronde said.

  “Me neither,” Tiki added.

  They rode all the way home on the late bus without saying a single word to each other. And when Mrs. Barber asked the twins how the first day of school had gone, neither one had the energy to answer her.

  “I know you boys heard my question,” she sa
id. “And I know you’re not being rude. No boy of mine is gonna be rude to his mother and get away with it.”

  “It stunk, Mom,” Ronde muttered. “It was the worst day ever, okay?”

  Her expression softened in an instant. “Why? What went wrong, Ronde?” She put an arm around each of the boys’ shoulders and sat down between them on the stairs.

  “Our football coach is leaving,” Tiki explained. “Without him, we’ll never win the championship.”

  “Now, how do you know that?” she challenged. “The season hasn’t even started.”

  “He’s right,” Ronde said. “We’re goners without Coach Spangler. He’s the best.”

  “Was,” Tiki corrected him.

  “You know, your team is sure to lose if all the players get as down as you two. How do you expect to win without any fighting spirit? Where’s your pride?”

  Ronde and Tiki were silent, looking down at their feet. They both knew she was right.

  But it was easier to say “get your fighting spirit up,” than to actually do it—especially when you felt like you’d just been run over by a ten-ton truck.

  • • •

  “Listen to this,” Tiki said as he leafed through the morning edition of the Roanoke Reporter, the local newspaper. “‘New Cave Spring Football Coach a Proven Winner.’”

  The paper was delivered to their house every Wednesday morning. If there was already a story about Coach Spangler in it, the decision must have been made before the school year even started.

  Ronde remembered the look on Coach Spangler’s face the morning before. He must have already spoken to the paper’s reporter by then.

  “‘Steve Spangler, longtime football coach of the District Champion Eagles of Hidden Valley Junior High School, has been hired to replace Coach Damian Hendrik of the Cave Spring High School Hawks, effective immediately. Members of the Hawks were all extremely excited about the hiring.

  “‘“Coach Spangler’s the greatest,” said the Hawks’ second-string quarterback Matt Clayton, last year’s all-star quarterback for the Eagles. “I should know—I played for him for three years. He taught me everything I know, and I couldn’t be happier that he’s coming here.”’”