Date: Sat, 19 Mar 2016 11:14:14 -0400
From: Paul Knoke <paulkdoctor@gmail.com>
Subject: INSTALLMENT FORTY-FIVE

INSTALLMENT FORTY-FIVE
from

THE FATHER CONTRACT
by

Arthur J. Arrington

Edited Paul K. Scott

Please consider a donation to Nifty so they will continue to publish our
exciting story of little PJ Thorndyke!

Chapter Eighty-Two: The Last E-Mail

PJ and Seth arrived back at Gordonsville with the dawn.

Seth had been forced to drive slowly over the last mile or two because of a
thick early morning fog, which had grown denser and thicker the closer they
got to the School. PJ had been awake for the last hour of the trip. He was
suffering a headache, felt cramped, and was cold because he still had his
shirt off. He stared out into the chilly white mist and shivered.

"I'll drop you off at your House," Seth told him. PJ only nodded.

The pillars of the School gates loomed out of the fog like tall dark
sentinels. Once they had turned in, Seth crept along the twisting access
road, dense fog seeming to press in all around them. To PJ, who was
fighting off a nausea that had suddenly come upon him, the interior of the
Porsche began to feel like a trap. Swallowing hard to avoid upchucking, he
signaled for Seth to stop the car.

"I can sneak into my House easy from here," he assured the older
boy. "Thanks for taking me to the game, Seth." He cracked open the
passenger door.

The handsome teen gave PJ a dismissive wave of the hand. "Hey, it was fun,
right? We saw history made. Something we'll never forget."

"Yeah," PJ nodded. "I'll see you at practice, Okay?"

"Not this morning," Seth told him, laughing. "That's already started. I'm
heading for the sack. But I'll catch you tomorrow."

PJ got out, grabbed his balled-up shirt off the floorboard, and stood back
to watch Seth's car disappear into the fog. A stinging slug of raw bile
rose in the back of his throat. With a small gurgling noise, he fell to his
hands and knees, his head spinning. After vomiting in the grass, he endured
painful dry heaves. Saliva drooled from his mouth. Finally he slowly got up
and started to walk on the sidewalk, a little unsteady at first, then with
more confidence as the wave of nausea passed. But he was still awfully sore
from the crowd-beating he'd taken at the Red Sox victory riot.

The concrete walk stretched ahead of him, its end not visible in the gray
walls of fog. A streetlight gleamed in the cold dawn light. For a moment,
the scene was an eerie reminder of the long concrete corridor PJ saw so
often in his dreams. With a shiver of fear, he looked quickly over his
shoulder, but there wasn't any pronounced darkness behind him, only more
gray blankness getting lighter now as the sun came up. PJ followed the
sidewalk around the corner, past the little parking area. The huge bulk of
his House with its Gothic stonework loomed up out of the mist, reminding
him of the manor house on the foggy moor in The Secret Garden. He trotted
quickly across the lawn, opened the front door cautiously, and slipped
inside. To his surprise, some occupants of the House were already up. He
could hear morning sounds--showers running, toilets flushing, voices in the
hallway upstairs. Cautiously, anxious not to be seen, he ran up the three
flights to the top floor and quickly went into his room.

Erik was just getting dressed. He looked up, startled. "PJ!" Then his face
broke into a huge smile of relief. He took two steps and hugged his
roommate, slapping him on the back. "Oh man, you had me worried! I wasn't
sure what to do this morning. I'm so glad to see you! Geez, don't ever
scare me like that again!"

PJ hugged Erik back hard and didn't let go right away. Erik kept stroked
and rubbed his roommate's back a few times, repeating again and again,
"Geez, I'm glad you're OK." Finally when PJ let him go, he exclaimed, "What
a game, PJ! What a game! The Red Sox won the Series an' Jack was incredible
an' got MVP!  You must have been awful proud of him! But hey!" He stepped
back to look PJ over as if he were seeing him for the first time. "What the
heck happened to you? You been in a fight? And you smell like booze!"

PJ glanced down at himself. He'd forgotten about the beer and how filthy
his clothes were. "Uh, the celebration after the game got pretty wild."

"Geez, I bet!" Erik took PJ's arm excitedly. "Did you get to see Jack?"

"Oh yeah," PJ said, with a weary smile. "I saw him."

"How was he? Gee, I bet he was happy. Did he say anything about his home
runs? About his MVP? That was so awesome! When's he coming to visit? He's
gonna get mobbed when he comes."

PJ kept nodding his head. "Yeah. He was awesome, Erik."

"And he'll here for Homecoming, right? Boy will it be cool to see him. It's
gonna be so neat. PJ, I'm really happy for you." He hugged his roommate
again and smiled. "Gosh, that note you left me . . . how could you think
I'd be mad at you for anything? I just would've wanted to go with you to
make sure you were OK. I understand about stuff you have to do . . . and
all that stuff about forgiving you . . . aw heck, PJ. Geez, I'm glad you're
back, OK?"

PJ tightly closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them again. He
wished--oh how he wished--that everything had gone as Erik imagined. That
he'd found Jack, and talked to him, and that everything was going to be
alright. But he hadn't, and now he knew that nothing would ever be right
again. He sighed, looked straight into Erik's eyes, and softy begged,
"Don't ever stop being my friend!"

"Stop being your friend?" Erik stared at him incredulously. "I'd die first!
You're my best friend in the world, PJ. And I'll always be yours. Nothing
can ever change that."

PJ turned away for a moment before asking, "Did anybody want to know where
I was?"

"Oh yeah." Erik started laughing. "Boy did they ever. I had to wear out my
ingenuity yesterday. You don't know it, but you were everywhere on this
campus. You were in the pool, the library, the Chapel, over on the football
field, and last night you were watching the game with some kids from the
swim team. But, funny thing, you were never where I was! I even mussed up
your bed so if Mr. Williamson or anyone came in, I could say you had just
gotten up to go to the bathroom."

"Thanks Erik."

"Hey, what are roommates for," Erik replied, grinning. "Come on, you better
get cleaned up.  We'll go to breakfast together. If anyone asks, you didn't
go to swim practice this morning because you stayed up late to see the
game. Which is true!"

PJ took a quick shower, dressed in his school clothes, and when Erik wasn't
looking, he took all the clothes he'd been wearing at the Series game
except his Nikes and threw them away. It wrenched him to give up the Red
Sox shirt that Jack had given him, but he stuffed in the trash with the
rest of the items. Beer and dirt stains as well as the big tear had ruined
it.

He went through the day mechanically, going from class to class, turning in
his assignments, and taking down a few notes. At football practice when he
found out that he'd be starting at running back for the Barton game, he
wasn't at all enthusiastic. Not that he didn't care about it. He wanted to
win it for Erik. But he was bone-tired and still aching from what had
happened to him at Fenway.

"Hey look, they've got Brian down as one of the starting wide receivers,"
Erik said.

"That's great." PJ tried hard to sound excited. "Congratulations," he told
the younger boy, who was looking proudly at the bulletin board. Afterwards,
he went through practice in a daze of fatigue, only managing to perform by
sheer force of will. To tell the truth, he was thinking more of bed than of
football.

That night, he was barely able to complete a few assignments before his
head started to nod over his desk. He summoned what reserves he had left,
shook his head a bit, and brought the mail window up on his computer
screen. He was pleased to see that there was an e-mail from Travis. Travis'
messages always made him feel better, so he opened it and began to
read. Travis talked about the Series game for a few paragraphs and then
wrote:

	"Coach Drew and I are definitely driving up to see your game
against our Middle School in two weeks. I hate to sound disloyal, but they
really are a bunch of jerks so I hope you beat them.  I try to stay away
from the kids on that team as much as I can.  They're not very nice.  One
of them tried to ask me something about you, but I brushed him off.

	 I really miss you and Erik a lot so I can't wait to see you guys.
I know you have that sports banquet that you and Jack and Erik and Bill
will be going to.  But is it OK if I spend Sunday with you?  I would really
like to.  It means a lot to me to see you guys.  And don't forget, my coach
wants you and me to go to some meets together.  I will tell you more about
it when I see you.  Your big brother Travis."

	PJ wrote a short answer telling Travis that he was happy he was
coming to the game and that he should stay as long as possible. Erik is
going to need you, he thought to himself as he typed. Already, he had a dim
idea of what he was going to have to do that next week. He sent the
message, and then started a new one, a long one, one of the longest he'd
ever written, to Jack.

"Dear Jack," he typed. "I know you can imagine how glad I am that we won
the Series. I never stopped believing in you and the Red Sox. You are
everything that you should be.  I was there in Fenway Park for the game
last nite. I used the tickets you sent me. I gave one of the tickets to a
boy here at School who has a car and he drove me up. It would have made you
laugh, Jack, to see us getting lost in Boston! Boy is that place confusing!
I gave the other two tickets to a scalpur so he could get us through the
gate. You know how strict they are about letting kids in without an adult.

 I tried really, really hard to see you while I was there Jack, but I could
not do it. The guard at the clubhouse door phoned my name in a couple of
times, but I guess you did not get it. I tried and tried to call to you
when you were playing in the outfield and when you were on deck but you
never heard me. I thought that maybe Jim heard me once in the bullpen but
the policemen chased me away. I was standing right behind home plate when
you hit your big triple. I knew you wanted to hit another homer, and you
almost did.  But you always told me that as long as you tried your best,
that was all that matered. But the best thing was your MVP trophy. I saw
you get that on TV. Congradulations!

 I know you are really busy now with all the interviews and stuff, but I
hope you can get to my game this
 Thursday. It is at Barton. I think we will win.  I would like it a real,
real lot if you came but I will understand if
 you can't. I know how busy you are. And I know you are still kind of mad
at me. I wish you wouldn't be, Jack,
 because I love you so much.

 I know that you will be here a week from next Saturday for homecoming.  I
think this will be the last email I
 have to send to you. You will be here then and I will save all the rest of
the things that happen to tell you when
 you get here. We will have lots to talk about. I know you will stop being
mad with me when you see me. I'm
 going to try and score a touchdown for you. I know you are coming to the
Homecoming Game Jack because
 a long time ago you promised me you would.  I know you would never break
your word. I know we are going
 to win Jack. I am sure of it. And I have to be there to help Erik win it
because I promised him I would.  But
 after the game I will be free and I can leave with you.

 I will never forget you Jack. And I will never forget the things you
taught me. I will be waiting for you.  Love,
 PJ."

PJ sent the message without rereading or Spell-Checking it. Then, he
carefully erased from his hard drive all the copies of the old messages
he'd sent or received over the past months, including the fake ones he'd
made up to look like Jack's. He wiped everything clean. He even erased
Jack's e-mail address. ("You won't need it," the voice of his other self
whispered. "You have no more messages to send.")

	 He got ready for bed early and fell asleep while he was reading
The Secret Garden.

	The dark invaded his dreams that night. It was all around him as he
sat at the little table in the gray room with the old gray-haired lady. He
was still working on his airplane drawing. He could barely see the old lady
in the darkness. Onlyhe and his drawing were still in the light.

	"What are you feeling?"

	"I'm frightened," PJ answered. And he wondered why the old lady was
not. The dark was all around her.

	"You have to find things of your own to do." The lady's voice came
out of the darkness. PJ could no longer see her.

	"I did," PJ told her desperately. "It wasn't enough."

	"What will you do?"

	"Jack will help me, "PJ whispered.

	As if from a great distance, came the old lady's voice. "Jack's not
real."

	"The best part of him is," PJ insisted. "I know it is."

The dark pressed in around him. He struggled in terror . . . and woke up
suddenly, sweating and with his heart pounding. He sat up, gingerly feeling
his bedclothes to be sure he hadn't wet himself. Then he lay down and
waited for his trembling to stop. He was afraid to go to sleep again. He
decided to visit Jack.

The way to get to Jack was through the pool. In his imagination, he
stripped off his pajamas and dove in naked. The water felt cool and soft on
his skin. Under the surface, the pool was alive with dancing light and
shadow. He swam upwards until two strong hands took him and tossed him,
laughing with delight, into the sunshine. He straightened his body and like
an arrow, dove back into the water, down, down all the way to the bottom in
the deep end where he grasped the drain to hold himself in place. The water
was still filled with light. The only sound was the musical tinkle of
bubbles escaping from his mouth. He stretched out, his legs spread apart,
his head arched back. Except for the slight swirl of his hair in the
current, his bare body lay motionless, eyes sightlessly staring up at the
surface. He was at peace.  Chapter Eighty-Three: Medals of Honor

Thursday, on the long ride to Barton Prep, PJ got sick.

Erik fussed around trying his best to help, opening PJ's window a crack so
there'd be cool air blowing on his friend's face, and placing PJ's little
handmade vomit bag in a handy spot, ready if needed. "Geez, PJ, I'm sorry,"
he said. "You haven't had a bad one like this in a while. I wish there was
more I could do."

PJ stared ahead blankly, focused on keeping his stomach contents in
place. He took his roommate's hand and squeezed it. "Thanks, Erik. Listen,
if I'm this bad, Phil must be miserable. You better check."

Erik glanced over his shoulder to where Brian and Phil were seated behind
them. "He's OK. Brian's got him busy spotting license plates." He turned
back to PJ. "You look tired " he said with concern. "Are you sure you're
sleeping OK? I know you woke up at least once last night. I heard you
thrashing around."

PJ pushed his face close to the window, trying to get more air on his
face. "Erik?" he asked, swallowing hard, "Erik, when you hear me like that,
you know . . . moving around like in the night? Will you please come and
sit with me like you used to? Please? It helps me a lot when you do that."

"Geez, PJ, of course I will. I'm sorry I didn't last night. From now on I
promise I'll come right over to you."

"Thanks." He swallowed hard again, fighting to keep everything down.

Erik turned and said something to Brian and Phil that brought the two boys
crowding around. "Uh-oh," Phil squeaked. He wiggled in next to PJ, held the
sick bag for him, and began gently stroking PJ's shoulder and back like he
did nights when they were together.

"PJ," Erik said, casting about for something that would get his friend's
mind off his nausea. "Tell us about the game again. What was it like when
Jack scored that winning run?"

"Yeah PJ," Brian eagerly added. "That was so neat. And he'd already tied
the game! Tell us what you told us before. It must have been incredible to
have been there!"

	"It was." PJ nodded his head slowly. "It was like nothing you could
ever believe could happen. The game had already been so exciting. An' Jack
had already hit two home runs. Everyone was just hoping he could hit
another. An' then it all started in the ninth inning. It was so
incredible. There were two outs an' every pitch was like so incredibly
tense because each one could have been the last an' the Red Sox could've
been gone. An' Jack was kneeling in the on-deck circle staring at the
pitcher, like he does so often, you know? An' . . ." PJ told them again all
about the closing minutes of the Red Sox game while Phil kept rubbing his
back. Erik and Brian listened bright-eyed, not missing a word . . . "an' as
soon as he scored you just couldn't believe the noise. It was a roaring
like waves. An' everyone was chanting, 'Jack . . . Jack . . . ' an' it was
like it was all meant to be." PJ fell silent, staring straight ahead,
remembering. Phil continued to stroke his shoulder.

"Wow." Erik whispered softly. "That must've been something."

"Yeah," Brian said. "Boy, I wish I could've seen that."

"Jack is just the greatest, isn't he, PJ!" Phil said.

PJ nodded slowly. "Oh, yeah. He is. He's the greatest."

Erik reached over to gently punch his roommate's arm. "You're pretty great
yourself, Buddy. I think so, anyway. Jack needs to come see you play
now. Hey, maybe he'll show up today!"

PJ wistfully smiled. "Maybe," he said, staring straight ahead. "Maybe. He
likes to surprise me."

"Help me spot a few license plates," Erik told him. All four boys crowded
together at the window and played their license plate game for the rest of
the trip, while Erik used his ingenuity to keep PJ talking so he wouldn't
think about being bus-sick.

When they reached Barton Prep, it turned out to be a fair-sized collection
of brick and stone buildings in a town that surrounded it on all sides. The
locker rooms were in an old gymnasium complex right next to the football
field. The boys got off the bus behind a metal framework of huge
bleachers. Across the field, another giant stand of bleachers fronted the
opposite sideline. Above both, tall standards supported banks of lights,
and at one end, a big electronic scoreboard loomed, overshadowing the
goalposts.

"We're not playing there, are we?" Brian asked in disbelief. "That must be
the varsity field."

"I see people in the stands," Phil told them.

"I think they only have that one field," Erik said.

"Wow!" Brian looked awestruck.

The locker facilities were old and crowded, so the boys all had to double
up. Erik and PJ teamed up to share a locker and kept bumping together as
they undressed. "Sorta like stripping inside a phone booth," Erik
laughed. They helped each other put on their equipment. After Brian
retrieved some tape from the equipment box, Phil held the extra pad PJ was
still using while Erik wrapped tape around his hips to hold it. Then Phil
handed PJ his uniform pants and helped get them on over the padding.

"Are you feeling OK now, PJ?" Phil asked.

"It's a lot better," PJ replied, "thanks to you." (Phil responded to this
with a wicked smirk). After lacing up shoulder pads on the two
eleven-year-olds, PJ and Erik adjusted their own. Lastly, all four boys
helped each other don their jerseys.

Coach Lewis got the team in a huddle before going outside. "These guys have
a 2-4 record," he told them. "But all their games have been pretty close,
and they beat Fieldstone just like we did. So watch out! You better believe
they would love to knock you off. Their defense is supposed to be a rough
crew and they like to go after the quarterback. Don't let them get you
rattled. Just stick to the game plan and you can beat them! OK, let's go!"
The boys clapped, gave a little cheer, and jogged over to the field.

To PJ's surprise, a fair number of people occupied seats on the
Gordonsville side, so shouting and clapping greeted the team--more than
he'd expected. "There's Bill," said Eric, who'd been searching the groups
of fans as soon as he ran around the front of the bleachers. "Hey, look
who's with him!"

PJ's head came up. Against all hope, his heart began to pound as he scanned
faces. He saw Bill. Then he saw who else was sitting next to him. "Dad!"
Brian cried out happily. "Phil, look! Yours is here, too. Our dads are
here!" As for PJ, his despairing little cry of disappointment went
unnoticed. The other boys went tearing over and up into the stands, leaving
PJ standing alone by the equipment table. As he searched one last time,
praying to find the face he so desperately longed to see, he discovered
that a lot of parents had come to the game. His Gordonsville teammates were
all over the bleachers greeting them. But there was no one special for
him. And he'd convinced himself now that they never would be.

Above him he saw his friends hugging and talking excitedly to their
fathers. He was happy for them, though envious too. He wondered if they
could ever really know how lucky they were. He also thought of Billy. Billy
couldn't come to away games, but he'd be there for the next one, the
Homecoming game. The sky would fall before Billy would miss coming to cheer
for his older brother. And even if he couldn't be at this game, PJ was sure
that somewhere Billy was thinking of him. He was certain of it. He could
feel it in his heart. And Jack is here, too, he thought. The best part of
Jack was always with him. The part that PJ would never give up believing
in. The beloved voice and touch were in a hundred memories in his mind, and
all the things he'd taught were engraved on PJ's heart. He could almost see
Jack's tall, rangy figure standing on the top bench of the bleachers, just
as he had thought for sure it was there in the game two weeks before.

That Jack, the Jack who was his real Father, would never leave him.

PJ turned away from the stands. It was time to warm up. He'd made a
commitment to Erik that must be honored. Win a Championship! This game was
part of that. And afterwards, there would only be one more. Then he'd be
free at last to follow his heart. He would go to find Jack, and the peace
and safety he so desperately needed. His journey was almost over.

"What will be, what will be, in the future you will not see," PJ sang to
himself as he went through the warm-up drills.

Erik came to him. "Bill says 'Good Luck.' He said to be sure and see him
after the game. He thinks it's so awesome that Jack and the Sox won the
Series. He wants to hear all about it."

PJ smiled at his friend and said wistfully, "Your dad is just the greatest,
Erik!"

"I sure think so." Erik grinned. "Hey, isn't it neat that Brian and Phil's
dad's came, too? They fixed it up with my dad as a surprise."

"I think it's the nicest thing they could've done," PJ answered.

After both schools completed their warmups, Barton won the toss, elected to
receive, and Phil got ready to go out with the kicking team. He was on all
the special teams but, to his disappointment, was not starting on the
defense. Erik had a talk with him as he was putting on his helmet and gave
him a pat on the butt before he scampered out onto the field.

"What ya' tell him?" PJ asked.

"To remember what he'd been taught, and not to try to be a hero on every
play. And I told him that if he got himself hurt, I'd kill him."

PJ smiled. "He'll be OK."

"He better be. I'm telling you, PJ, I just have a feeling that we're going
to need him."

The words sent an eerie chill through PJ. He'd sometimes felt the same
premonition and didn't like its implications. "There are two other backup
quarterbacks," he hesitantly pointed out.

Erik's reply was a stubborn "Phil's better."

Kip got his foot into a nice kick and boomed it down to the Barton
five-yard line, where it rolled into the end zone and was downed. Barton's
offense came onto the field, ready to start on their own twenty. Right from
the first play, PJ could see that they were good. "How can they only be
2-4?" he asked Erik as they watched the Barton quarterback complete a pass.

"Maybe it's their defense," Erik said. "They sure look OK so far on
offense. Come on, defense!"  he yelled. "Tighten up!" But Barton had the
Gordonsville defenders on the run. Down the field hey went in a
smoothly-executed drive that scored a touchdown on a thirty-yard end-around
running play. Their ball carrier was not even touched. The extra point was
good, and just like that, they led 7-0.

"Time to go to work, PJ," Erik told him. "Get us some field position." He
slapped his friend's shoulder pads as PJ went out with Phil to receive the
ensuing kickoff.

The Barton kicker only got the ball to the Gordonsville thirty. PJ
maneuvered under it, gathered it in, sidestepped a tackler, and followed
Phil's block across the field. Hurdling another tackler, he cut sharply up
the middle. A score of Barton jerseys converged on him as he crossed
midfield. He straight-armed one, lowered his shoulder and rammed another
hoping to bowl him over. But the boy held on desperately until two other
defenders helped pull PJ down. Once he'd regained his feet, he looked
around and saw that he'd returned the kick to the other team's forty-three.

The boy PJ had run into got up slowly. Erik noticed this as he trotted onto
the field, and gave his roommate an amused look. "We have to play four
quarters here, PJ," he commented sarcastically. "Don't try to kill all
their players in the first one."

PJ eyed him in return. "OK. How do you like your field position, wise-ass?"

"Not bad, not bad," Erik admitted.  "Now let's see if we can do something
with it!"

But the other team's defense had ideas of their own. On the very first
play, they swarmed into the backfield trying to disrupt Erik's handoff. PJ
took the ball quickly and plunged into the line before he could be
tackled. He dove through, churning his legs and battering a defender who
came up to tackle him, pushing the boy back and getting four yards before
being stopped. He bounced to his feet as soon as he felt the other bodies
roll off the top of him and trotted back to the huddle. Erik was still on
the ground getting up slowly. PJ gave his friend a hand.

"They definitely like to go after the quarterback," Erik said with a wry
smile.

"Are you OK?"

"I'll be all right."

Yet on the next play, when he tried to pass, he was sacked. PJ stayed back
to block and flattened one of the linebackers who blitzed in, but the other
defenders got to Erik and drove him to the ground. PJ ran over to help him.

"I'm all right, I'm OK," Erik told everyone as PJ pulled him up. "I should
have anticipated that."

Despite this reassurance, PJ saw that his friend's eyes were a little dazed
looking. "Call a sweep!" he ordered in an attempt to give his roommate time
to clear his head.  Erik nodded and called for PJ to sweep to the left
side. On the snap, PJ quickly grabbed the ball from him and followed his
fullback to the outside. Jacob nailed a blitzing defender and PJ rocketed
around the end. When a swarm of backs from the secondary converged, he went
at them like a bowling ball bashing into tenpins. It took four to bring him
to the ground just short of the first down. Shit! he thought to himself
when he saw where the ball was spotted. And then Shit! a second time when
he saw Brian running over to help Erik get up. His roommate had been nailed
again by the defense and was obviously hurt.

PJ tapped Jacob on the shoulder, and the two of them went over to help Erik
limp off the field. "I'm OK, PJ," Erik kept telling him. PJ wasn't so sure.

Once they got Erik to a bench on the sideline, he left Brian to look after
him and took the fullback aside where they were immediately joined by
Dustin. PJ had been sharing running- back duties with Dustin and following
his and Jacob's blocks for weeks in practice and games. He'd grown to
really like them both. Now, he stared at the two thirteen-year-olds
grimly. "You see what they're trying to do."

"Yeah," Jacob told him.

"I'll talk to Cuyler," Dustin assured them. "We gotta step up the line
play. An' part of it was my fault. One of those linebackers got right by me
on that pass play. He took me by surprise. You don't have to say anything,
PJ. I won't let Erik down again.  They'll have to kill me to get to him."

PJ slapped his friend's shoulder pads. "Come on," he said, "let's talk to
Erik." They went over and sat down to either side of him and Brian. PJ
noticed that his roommate seemed fully alert again.

"Where you hurtin', Roomie?"

"It was just my ankle, guys." Erik reached down to squeeze his left ankle
experimentally. "It feels OK now."

Listen, "PJ suggested, "Keep pressure off that ankle. From now on, run
everything out of the pro-set. That way you don't have to drop back. On
pass plays we can block better for you an' the runs will still be good
enough. An' if they keep tryin' to come in on you with those linebackers,
you can have both the tight end and Brian float through the middle and pass
to them all day."

"Yeah," Brian said. "I can cut through there every time. They're playing
way off on me."

Erik nodded approvingly. "That's what we'll do. An' on the next series, if
my ankle's okay. I'll run a quarterback draw. That should give them
something to think about."

"Yup," PJ agreed. "An' make all your passes either quick shorties or else
rollouts. We'll nail the outside linebackers for you if they come in. You
can roll out all day an' they won't be able to touch you."

Phil had come over after the punt and crouched at Erik's feet, listening
intently. "Don't forget to send PJ out as a receiver," he suggested. If
they keep blitzing to get you, PJ will burn them if you can get the ball to
him."

"Me too," Dustin eagerly added. "Don't let PJ have all the fun!"

Erik smacked both on their shoulder pads. Then he got up and walked back
and forth a few steps. "We'll get these guys," he said confidently.

They all got up to watch the action on the field. The Gordonsville defense
was getting the measure of its opponent now. Barton was finding it more
difficult to get yardage. At last they were stopped. PJ and Phil went in to
return the punt, but the Barton kicker had it go off the side of his foot
and the ball flew out of bounds. Gordonsville took over on their own
forty-six.

This time, using the strategy they'd worked out on the sideline, they
gained yardage, got two quick first downs, and pushed past midfield. The
opposing defense was tough, and they still tried to hit Erik hard, but he
was ready to exploit the opportunities they gave him. PJ was also gaining
more and more confidence in himself as a running back. This was his third
complete game at the position and he was now playing injury-free. With the
strength in his hips and legs, he could cut faster and accelerate quicker
than the defenders opposing him. The only way they could stop him was by
gang tackling. But if he broke the first tackle and burst through into the
secondary, he got big yardage. And on every play, every tackle, he wore
down the defense with his superior strength and endurance. The boys he was
up against were older and a little bigger than he was, but they lacked his
compact power and speed.

Rolling out to his right side, Erik flicked a quick pass to Brian over the
middle for six yards. He followed this with a handoff to PJ, who followed
Dustin into the line for another quick six. He hammered the defenseman who
came up to tackle him and heard the boy gasp in pain. Next time he'll
flinch, he thought, and I'll cut right around him.

They were down on the Barton thirty now and still driving. The linebackers
had stopped blitzing as they sought to contain PJ's runs. Erik burned them
with a comeback pass to Brian on the sideline that took Gordonsville inside
the twenty. Then he called "Star-Wars-Two" in the huddle to signal his
quarterback draw. It was perfectly timed. Barton had decided on another
blitz. PJ sprang forward on the snap and blew an incoming linebacker out of
the way. Erik faked and followed PJ through the line. PJ was able to give
his friend one more good block as Erik bulled inside the ten before being
stopped.

Barton's biggest players lined up for a goal-line stand. Erik's plan was to
beat size with speed, so he called for an end-around play to the left. PJ
got set into position tingling with excitement. He took a perfect handoff
from his friend and shot to the side on Jacob's heels. When the linebackers
pursued, Jacob missed a solid block on the closest one, who reached out and
grabbed PJ around the waist. Spinning to break that hold, he turned the
corner, saw other backs converging, lowered his shoulder, and plowed ahead,
dragging three tacklers with him inside the five.

"Sorry, PJ," Jacob apologized as they trotted back to the huddle. "I cost
you a touchdown."

PJ slapped him on the shoulder pads. "Forget it! You're playing great!
You'll kill him next time, and we're still gonna score!"

On the next play, Erik tried a quick pass over the middle, only to have it
batted away. "That defense is tough," he admitted in the huddle. "Brian,
you've got your guy beat, right?" The younger boy nodded, so Erik told him
"Cut to the outside," and called for another pass. Barton tried to blitz
again on the snap, but PJ, Jacob, and Dustin blocked and gave Erik plenty
of time to roll out to the right. PJ saw Brian run into the end zone and
cut swiftly to the outside. His older, bigger defender was not as
quick. Brian was a step in front as Erik's pass floated into his
hands. Unfortunately, the young receiver was trying to concentrate on being
in bounds as well as making the catch. He bobbled the football as he
dragged his feet. The cornerback hit him. The ball flew out of his hands
and the officials signaled "incomplete."

Brian was almost in tears when Erik and PJ took him to the sideline to get
him off the field before the field goal attempt. "I should've had it. I
should've hung on to it," he was crying. "I'm a little wuss."

PJ put his arms around him and hugged him tightly. "Stop it!" he
commanded. He made Brian sit on the bench and knelt in front of
him. "You're not a little wuss. I've seen how good you wrestle. An' you and
Phil are two of the bravest kids I've ever seen. Don't you ever call
yourself that again." He stroked Brian's arm. "Listen," he firmly told
him. "You're eleven years old and you're playing against a kid who's
probably thirteen and who's bigger and stronger than you. And you're still
beating him. You're doing great. OK, so you bobbled the catch before he
creamed you. He made a great play. Give him some credit. He's doing his
best, too, and that time he happened to win. You'll come out better next
time."

"But Erik got the ball to me and he was counting on me," Brian said
miserably.

Erik patted his shoulder. "Superman couldn't have held onto that ball,
Brian. Not the way that kid hit you. You're doing great! You'll get it next
time!"

"Brian, you know what Jack always tells me?" PJ stared into the younger
boy's eyes. "First, never, never, get down on yourself. If you get beat,
you get up and try harder next time. And the other thing is--never let the
other guy see that he's getting to you. If he beats you, just congratulate
him and try harder to get him the next time. Don't give him the edge." PJ
stroked Brian's arm again. "You're not a wuss." PJ stroked his arm
again. "You're my friend. And I don't make friends with wusses! Right?"

"Right," Brian said. He gave PJ a little smile. "Thanks."

They stood to watch the field goal attempt. Phil was holding. He got the
ball down smoothly and Kip split the uprights. "That makes it 3-7," Erik
said. "Now we're on the board."

Phil stayed in for the kickoff and helped make a tackle that stopped the
Barton runner on his own thirty-three. "You can look now," PJ told
Erik. "He's OK." Erik uncovered his eyes while PJ and Brian both
chuckled. "You guys won't be laughing if we need him and he's hurt," Erik
grumbled.

"Phil's tougher than anybody thinks, Brian assured him." PJ put his arm
around Brian and squeezed his shoulders.

The second quarter began with another Barton drive that the Gordonsville
defense finally managed to contain just short of their own twenty. Now it
was Barton's turn to try a field goal. But their kicker drove the ball wide
of the uprights, so the score remained unchanged as Gordonsville took over
possession.

Once again the other team's defense tried to intimidate Erik by blitzing,
but he countered immediately with another quarterback draw, a nifty fake
which netted a first down. Then, on the very next play, he completed a pass
to Brian that went for seventeen yards and might've been a touchdown if
Brian's legs had been longer and he could've run faster. When he was
tackled hard by the defense, he gamely hung onto the ball as tightly as he
could. He came back to the huddle smiling like a Cheshire cat.

"I told you!" PJ said, patting his butt. Brian gave him a happy grin.

Running out of the pro-set, PJ and Dustin took turns carrying the ball and
blocking for each other, hammering first one side and then the other. The
Gordonsville offense advanced like a machine down the field, with Erik
mixing runs with passes to his receivers.  PJ focused on punishing the
defenders each time he blocked or carried the ball. He was sure they were
weakening. "They're getting tired," he told Erik when they reached their
opponent's thirty-yard line. "Let's try the option." Erik called it in the
huddle.

"Dawn-Rider-Seven, Dawn-Rider-Seven, Whopper-63-Gold, Whopper-63-Gold, on
One, Break!"

For the first time since changing strategy in the opening quarter, they
lined up in the "I" formation, PJ at tailback and Jacob in at fullback. The
formation caught the defense by surprise. On the snap, PJ and Jacob
sprinted to their right with Erik carrying the ball a step behind. The
linebackers were trying another blitz, but the play moved away too fast for
them. The end went after Erik as he'd been doing all day. Erik flicked the
football to PJ and then hit that player, taking him right out of the
play. Jacob hurtled around the corner of the line, wiped out another
oncoming defender, and PJ shot past him up the sideline as if he'd kicked
in an afterburner! Secondary backs converged. He cut into them, his right
shoulder lowered. He'd been hammering them play after play, and the closest
one flinched just as he'd expected. He deftly dodged past, broke away by
roughly slamming aside the last man who could have tackled him, and with
terrific acceleration, bolted into the end zone with the football held
high! As soon as he slowed down, he dropped to one knee and touched the
Bhatt chain around his neck. "That one was for you, Erik," he
whispered. "You're a great quarterback and the best friend anyone ever
had." He was thinking about how his roommate had been there for him when
he'd been sick on the bus. Of how often he'd been there for him when he'd
needed help.

He stood up, becoming aware of loud cheering from the Gordonsville
stands. Erik and Brian both jumped on him, followed by Jacob, whom PJ
hugged and slapped on his shoulder pads. "Great block," he said.

"Yeah," said the older boy, "I got all of him that time!" He grinned
happily.

"Nice one, PJ," Erik said. He and Brian jogged with PJ to the sideline
where Phil had time to yell "Way to go, PJ!" before pulling his helmet on
to go out and hold for the extra point.

This time it was Tommy's turn to kick. When he split the uprights
soccer-style, the Gordonsville players and fans alike cheered
wildly. Gordonsville now led, 10-7!

"Erik?" PJ said, as they watched the special teams line up for a
kickoff. Tell him, he was thinking to himself. There won't be many more
times to let him know.

"What, Buddy?" Erik turned to look at his roommate because he detected an
unusual pitch in PJ's voice.

PJ stared at his friend. He wanted very much to be sure Erik knew how much
he liked him and cared for him, but he didn't want to alarm his friend or
seem sappy to him. He looked down in embarrassment and then looked up
again. "No-th-ing," he stammered. "It's just . . . it's just that I wanted
you to know . . . I got that touchdown for you. An' that . . . that I think
you're just a great quarterback. Just the best! An' my best friend too!"

Erik looked startled. Then he smiled and put his arm around PJ's
shoulders. "You're the best friend anyone ever had, PJ," he said
quietly. "I'm the luckiest kid in the world."

They watched the kickoff together. This time Phil couldn't get in on the
tackle and Erik gave a sigh of relief. The defensive unit ran out onto the
field and the Top Floor Gang went to the bench to sit down. I hope they can
stop them quick," Erik said. "I'd like to get another score before the
half."

Barton, as usual, had other ideas. Their offense started a long, sustained
drive that consumed nearly all the time left in the second quarter. It
ended in another field goal attempt when the Gordonsville defense finally
stopped them on the six. This time the Barton kicker managed to get the
ball through the uprights to tie the score.

PJ and Phil ran out to receive the kickoff with a bit less than two minutes
left in the half. On the way, Phil told PJ, "Erik worries every time it
looks like I might receive the ball, doesn't he."

"Only if you call having a heart attack worrying," PJ replied with a grin.

Phil snickered. "Don't worry, PJ. I'll let you get it."

Once again the Barton kick was short. PJ took it on his own thirty-six and
accelerated upfield looking for blocking. Unfortunately, the shortness of
the kick allowed the defenders to get on top of him almost immediately. He
cut past one would-be tackler, found himself immediately in the arms of
another, spun, churned forward desperately, and broke past several boys who
were trying to grab him. With a rush, he gunned back up to speed. Charging
beyond midfield, he lowered his head and slammed into a wave of Barton
jerseys, dragging three and then four would-be tacklers to the other team's
forty-two before finally being dragged to the ground.

Phil came running over to help him up. "You went right by me getting to
that kick, PJ," he said. "I didn't get a chance to block!"

"Hey, that's OK," PJ told him, giving the younger boy's helmet a
slap. "Think how relieved Erik was!"

Only about a minute and a half remained when Erik and the rest of the
offense joined PJ on the field. With a wink at his friend, Erik gave a
"Tap-Dance-Six" signal on the very first play to send PJ out of the
backfield as a receiver, anticipating that Barton would try to immediately
get to him with a blitz. It was a perfect call. PJ slipped through the line
as Erik rolled out. The pass was laid right into PJ's hands. He blew past
the secondary, breaking one tackle and bowling another defensive back out
of his way before he was pushed out of bounds by the safety. The play
gained eighteen yards and stopped the clock.

"Those linebackers are going to learn to stay home!" Erik told him
jubilantly when he returned to the huddle.

The Barton defense played much more conservatively after that, remaining
spread out to contain PJ's sweeps and Erik's options. Then, without
warning, they gambled and blitzed again, just as Erik called a pass. The
middle linebacker sneaked in around Cuyler's block and managed to sack Erik
for an eleven-yard loss. Gordonsville used their last time out to stop the
clock with forty seconds left.

"OK," Erik told PJ, "they got lucky that time. But it's only second down
and there's time on the clock.  Tap-Dance again for me and I'll pass it to
you or Brian."

PJ showed him a closed fist. "Right!" Then Erik called the play in the
huddle and PJ saw Brian's eyes flash. He lined up in the pro-set with
Dustin, ready to play his part.

On the snap, PJ shot through the line, bumping a linebacker and cutting
past him. He put his hands up and knew the secondary was buying the fake
because he saw them converging on him. Erik passed the ball downfield to
Brian, so PJ began to sprint towards him in case his younger friend got
into trouble, but there was no need. Brian had gotten behind his man. He
gathered in Erik's pass, lengthened his stride, and shot over the goal line
before anyone could get near him! He held the ball up triumphantly just the
way PJ had done, and the Gordonsville fans in the bleachers cheered even
more loudly than before!

PJ kept on running so he could catch up to Brian in the end zone and hug
him. "Way to go!" he yelled.

Erik joined them on the way to the sideline, limping slightly in a way that
made PJ eye him in concern, although he didn't say anything. "Yee-00w-wie!"
Erik yelled, pounding Brian on his shoulder pads. That's the way to do it!"
Phil high-fived his roommate as he trotted by, going in with Tommy and the
rest of the special team to kick the extra point.

As they were watching Tommy get ready, Brian looked up at PJ and asked,
"You always go to one knee when you score a touchdown, PJ, and grab one of
those chains around your neck. Why do you do that?"

PJ touched Erik's chain. "It's a real personal thing," he said
quietly. "But I don't mind if you know. It's kinda a prayer. The chain you
see me grab is that one Erik gave me on my birthday. Remember? I always
feel for it after a touchdown to remind me that he's like a brother to
me. But also to honor all you guys too because you're like the only family
I have. I dedicate the touchdown to Erik, or sometimes to Jack, and
sometimes to you or Phil or Travis or Billy because you're the most
important people in the world to me. It makes me feel good to do that. It
sorta helps me remember how special you all are. The links in this chain
are like the medals I honor you with."

Brian put a hand on PJ's arm. "You've dedicated a touchdown to me and Phil?
For real? You never said anything about that."

PJ looked down in embarrassment. "I've never talked about it with anyone
but you."

Brian kept staring at him. "PJ," he said, "PJ, I'm really glad I'm your
friend."

"Thanks," PJ softly told him, without looking up. "It means a lot to me to
have friends like you and Phil. You see, before . . . before I came to
Gordonsville . . . you see . . . I never had any friends.  I never had
anybody at all."

"I'll always be your friend, PJ," Brian assured him. "Always. And so will
Phil."

PJ nodded without looking up. "Thanks," he whispered.

Out on the field, Tommy had already made the extra point. The people behind
them had been cheering as Gordonsville lined up for a kickoff, but Brain
and PJ only noticed when Erik called in a worried tone of voice, "Hey PJ,
look! Phil's gettin' right in the middle of this. He's goin' to get
killed!"

PJ looked up. Kip had squibbed his kickoff to Barton, and Phil along with
other members of the kickoff special team, was racing downfield to make the
tackle. While Erik covered his eyes, there was a frantic scrambling, the
"clack" of shoulder pads colliding, and a big pile-up at midfield. Phil
eventually emerged from under several other players. He trotted to the
sideline grinning, and came right to Erik.

"It's OK, Erik," he reported mischievously. "I survived."

"I ought to kill you," Erik said, giving him a one-armed hug.
	The Gordonsville defense went into a "prevent" formation and Barton
was unable to do anything in the twenty seconds that remained in the
half. The teams went to the locker rooms with the score 17-10 in
Gordonsville's favor!
           In the lead, PJ thought. But we'll make that lead bigger in the
second half! However, as he jogged along behind his roommate, he noted that
Erik was still favoring his left leg.  Chapter Eighty-Four: The PJ No One
Knew The half-time break seemed to drag. Feeling unusually restless, PJ
paced the locker room obsessed by a need to be get back on the field. He
didn't feel tired at all. In fact, if anything, he felt better than he had
at the start of the game when he'd still been experiencing the
after-effects of bus sickness.  "Take it easy, PJ." Erik was resting on the
bench, eyeing him with concern.  PJ forced himself to sit down. "Sorry,
Roomie. I know I should be resting. It's just that I wanna get back out
there and keep on beating these guys!"  "We'll beat them," Erik confidently
replied. He took a sip of the Gatorade he was holding.  "I don't like the
way they keep going after you. It's like they're tryin' to hurt you or
something."  "I can take care of myself."  "You were limping just now, PJ
countered. But his roommate only shrugged. "They got a few hits on me. I'm
fine."  "If they do anything to you. . . ." PJ took a deep breath. "It just
makes me mad is all. You don't know how mad."  Erik smiled at him. "You
don't think I wasn't mad after that Hagerton game? If I had known how badly
they hurt you I would've tried to kill someone. And that game against those
Foxton jerks two weeks ago? I did try to kill some kids there. Dustin had
to stop me. I know how you feel. But don't worry PJ, I'll be OK."  PJ
sighed. "Well, just be careful, that's all. We're so close to a
championship now. I don't want anything to go wrong. I know how much it
means to you."  "To you, too," Erik said.  "Yeah. To me, too." PJ pretended
to agree, feigning some enthusiasm. He didn't tell his roommate the
truth--that the Championship no longer meant anything to him, and that he
only wanted it because he knew how much it meant to his best friend.  Coach
Lewis gave the team a few words of encouragement and finally, to PJ's
relief, they got back out on the field to start the second
half. Gordonsville was receiving. PJ gave Phil the usual pat on his butt as
they ran out to catch the kickoff. "Let's you and me take one all the way,
Phil," he told the younger boy. But neither of them got the chance. Barton
tried a surprise onside kick--or else their kicker just missed badly, PJ
was not sure which. The spinning pigskin bounced along the ground amid
confused Gordonsville players, touching several, which made it anyone's
ball. Disaster was only avoided when PJ sprinted desperately upfield and
fell on the thing before any Barton player could reach it. He barely got
there in time. An instant later he was buried under a pile of tacklers who
knocked the wind out of him just before the whistle blew.
	"Wow!" Phil helped him up, lending support while PJ struggled to
regain his breath. "Boy, that was close! Nice heads-up play, PJ." PJ
squeezed his arm. He was unable to speak.  Erik came running over. "You
OK?" he asked anxiously.  PJ nodded. "Just . . . get . . . my breath," he
gasped.  The ball was at the thirty-six-yard line. By the time
substitutions were completed on the field, PJ could breathe normally
again. Erik called for Dustin to execute a quick fullback plunge into the
line for the first play, and then threw a short pass to Lyle, the receiver
on the side away from Brian, so PJ would have a chance to recover. On the
third and three, he called PJ's number for a sweep. Dustin grinned at
him. "Rock 'n roll," he whispered as they lined up in the pro-set.  On the
previous plays, Barton had returned to its tactic of going after Erik by
sending players into their backfield. PJ was sure they would try again and
hoped Cuyler along with the other linemen could help wipe out any blitzing
linebackers. Cuyler snapped the ball. Erik pivoted smoothly and PJ grabbed
the handoff, accelerating laterally. Just as he'd anticipated, another
blitz was coming. He sidestepped a would-be tackler, charged forward to
regain speed, and followed Dustin around the corner. The secondary was
coming up fast. PJ cut to the middle behind Dustin's block, straight-armed
a defender who suddenly appeared in front of him, and cut again to the
sideline. Two more tacklers rushed in. He lowered his shoulder, ran through
one, sent the boy flying backwards, and spun out of the arms of the
other. Because the moves slowed him down, three more boys were able to grab
on and drag him out of bounds--but not before his run had gained fourteen
yards and a first down!  PJ bounced up, tremendously exhilarated. The
defense was weakening, he could feel it! He couldn't wait to run through
them again! He was trotting back to the huddle to tell Erik when his heart
shot suddenly into his throat. His roommate was lying on the ground holding
his right knee, writhing in pain. He raced forward, reached Erik in an
instant, knelt by him, unsnapped his chin strap, lifted off his helmet with
both hands, held up his head, and cried, "Erik! Erik, what is it? What is
it?!" The pain he saw on Erik's white face terrified him, panicked
him. "Erik, I'm here. I'm right here," PJ said desperately. He held Erik
just as his friend had held him so often when he had awoken, terrified of
the dark.  "PJ, my knee!" Erik groaned. "My knee!"  Coach Lewis had run
over along with the assistant who was the trainer, and while PJ continued
to hold Erik, they examined the knee carefully. "It's all right,
Erik. You're going to be all right," the coach assured the grimacing
boy. "You strained a few things in there. Maybe your ankle, too. But it's
going to be all right. Let's get some ice on it."  They got Erik up, and by
putting his arm around PJ's shoulders, with Coach Lewis on his other side,
Erik was able to limp slowly off the field. The spectators on both sides
cheered. "Go slow, Erik," PJ kept insisting. "Take it easy. Put all your
weight on me. I've got you. You're gonna be all right." They got Erik to a
bench, easing him to a sitting position. That look on his friend's face had
wrung PJ's heart. He pulled on Coach Lewis' arm. "Coach!  Are you sure
Erik's gonna be all right?"  The coach slapped him on the shoulder. "I'm
sure, PJ. You go get back in the game. Phil had run over and was sitting
with Erik, holding his arm. "I've got him," he said. "Get out there, PJ."
"Erik," PJ ordered, "you do what Coach tells you! I'll be back."  His
roommate tried to smile. "OK, PJ, don't worry. I'll be OK. Thanks."  PJ
trotted back onto the field, his thoughts in a whirl. He was terrified for
his roommate. Knee injuries could be so serious! He had trouble
concentrating on the game.  To take Erik's place, Coach Lewis had sent in
Lester, the thirteen-year-old quarterback who'd started at the beginning of
the season. PJ didn't know him very well. All he knew was that Erik didn't
trust him. Dustin, who was the same age and knew him better, cautioned him
in the huddle, "Watch yourself. These guys are going after the
quarterback." PJ thought Lester looked nervous. And he looked even worse
after the next play. It'd been a run off-tackle from the "I" and the Barton
defense had lost no time coming in on him. Lester was hit right after
handing off to PJ. Gordonsville made six yards on the play but Lester,
rejecting PJ's suggestion that they run again, called for a pass instead
and got flattened by a blitz that resulted in a loss of seven yards. Lester
was now so nervous that on the next play, scrambling desperately to get
clear and avoid another blitz, he nearly fumbled when he handed off to
PJ. PJ, whose timing was messed up by the clumsy exchange, plunged into the
line late and had to struggle for control of the ball. Though he was hit
almost immediately, he still managed to fight his way ahead for three
yards, dragging tacklers with him, but the gain was short of a first down,
and Gordonsville was forced to punt.  PJ could have cared less. He'd lost
all interest in the game. Desperate to check on Erik, he ran off the field,
went to his friend, and knelt in front of him. His roommate had an ice pack
on his knee, wrapped in place with an ace bandage. After feeling it, PJ
looked up. "Are you OK?"  "Yeah. . . ." Erik made a disgusted gesture. "It
aches, but Coach says I'm gonna be all right. He won't let me play anymore
today, though." With an agonized expression, he added, "PJ, we've gotta get
Phil into the game! Lester can't do it!"  "That's for sure!" Brian had
joined them and was kneeling next to PJ. "Erik, what happened?" he asked.
"How'd it happen! PJ demanded, upset that his roommate was incapacitated.
"Aw, it was that middle linebacker." Erik shook his head. "He's been makin'
a project out of me all day. I'd been handlin' him all right, but on that
last play he tried something he hadn't done before. I guess he just decided
to get me once and for all. I'd handed off to you--I didn't even have the
ball--and he blind-sided me with his shoulder right into the side of my
knee." Erik closed his eyes at the memory. "Geez, PJ, it hurt! You wouldn't
believe how much. Just for an instant. But it scared me! Knee injuries are
so bad!"  PJ sat down next to him and put an arm around his friend. "OK,
Erik. It's gonna be OK. You're gonna be fine. Don't worry."  Erik took a
deep breath. "I know I'll be all right, PJ. But the game! The game! We
can't lose this game! If we do, we won't have a chance at the Championship!
We've gotta get Phil in! I told you we'd need him, and we need him now!"
"OK, OK." PJ hugged him. "Let me work on it."  While they'd been talking,
Tommy had punted and the other team had returned it to their own
thirty. Phil came off the field with the punting unit and went right to
where PJ and Brian were sitting with Erik. The first thing he did was to
check the ace wrap. "Is the pack still cold, Erik?" Without waiting for
Erik to answer, he said, "Wait a minute. I'll get you a new one." He dashed
away, returning with a fresh pack out of the first-aid chest. A moment
later he started unwrapping Erik's knee.  "The knee still feels cold,
Phil," Erik protested.  The younger boy shook his head stubbornly. "It
won't hurt to put on a fresh one."  While Brian helped get the old ice pack
off, PJ gently felt Erik's bared knee with his fingertips, relieved to find
there was no obvious swelling or tenderness. Once the knee was re-wrapped
and Erik was complaining about how cold the fresh pack was, PJ patted his
roommate on the shoulder. "I'll be back in a few minutes." He went to the
sidelines where Coach Lewis, his assistants, and Matthew were anxiously
watching Barton gain a first down against the Gordonsville defense. He
tugged on his coach's arm.  The young man looked down with an annoyed
expression, which cleared when he saw who it was. "What is it, PJ?"
"Coach, Erik can't play anymore in this game, can he."  Coach Lewis shook
his head. "No. He'll be all right. But only if we keep him off that knee
for a few days. There's no way I'm going to let him risk re-injuring it."
This was PJ's assessment as well. He took a deep breath and said, "Coach,
we're gonna lose unless you put Phil in the game at quarterback. You gotta
put him in!"  "No, PJ." The coach was shaking his head again. "I already
told Erik. I can't put Phil in. He's only eleven. He's too small."  PJ
stared up, his blue eyes boring into the young man's. "Jack says size
doesn't matter as much as heart and courage. And I know he's right! You do,
too. Phil's one of the bravest kids I know! We can win with him in the
game, Coach. You gotta give him his chance!"  Coach Lewis kept slowly
shaking his head. "PJ. . ." he started to say.  The Barton stands broke
into cheering as their offense made another big gain after a first down. PJ
grabbed his coach's arm and gripped it tightly. "They're gonna score again,
Coach!" he shouted over the noise. "I know it! And we're gonna lose, just
like we lost against Perry! Unless you put Phil in the game! We can win
this game for you, Coach! We can win it, if you put Phil in. Give him a
chance!"  "PJ, you saw what happened to Erik. Do you want that to happen to
Phil? He'll get hurt!"  PJ shook his head vehemently. "No!" he declared
impatiently. "No! He won't. I'll take care of that. You have to trust
me. Put him in. He won't get hurt. I promise you. Please, Coach. I've never
asked you for anything. I've always done everything you wanted. Please put
Phil in for just one series. Give him his chance. If it doesn't work, take
him out. But please, please, get him in the game. He and I can win this
game for you if you do!"  At that moment, the Barton running back hurtled
through the Gordonsville line. PJ and his coach watched as the boy broke a
tackle and sprinted over the goal line for the touchdown. The Barton fans
cheered and air horns blared. PJ turned to Coach Lewis and made a last
desperate appeal. "Gordonsville hasn't won a Championship in eight years!"
he pleaded. "Don't lose our chance at it! Put Phil in. He wants to win the
game. Lester doesn't. Just for one series. Please, Coach."  The two
assistants watched Coach Lewis' face. Matthew stood by, his pencil poised
over his clipboard, ready to record the substitution. Finally the young
coach shrugged his shoulders and said in a resigned voice, "You win,
PJ. Phil can go in. But if he has any trouble on that first series he's
coming right back out, understand?"  PJ nodded. "He won't. Then he added
with fierce conviction, "And I promise you that we'll win."  Turning, he
ran back to where Phil was sitting with Erik and Brian. "Get your helmet!"
he ordered the younger boy. "You're going in as quarterback. Someone else
will sub for you on special teams."  Erik stared excitedly at PJ. "How did
you do it? Coach told me 'No!'"  PJ rubbed his friend's shoulder. "I
explained that we had to have him. Don't worry, Erik.  These guys have just
about tied the game, but we're gonna win. I promise you. You keep that ice
pack on and relax. Nine days from today we're gonna be playing for the
Championship and we need you to be well." He gestured at the two younger
boys. "Come on, guys!" They moved to the edge of the field and watched as
Barton got the extra point. Now the game really was tied, 17-17.  "PJ,"
Phil said softly. "I'm kinda scared."
 	"'Course you are." PJ gave him a hard look. "So am I. So's Jack
every time he goes into the batter's box with the game on the line. You
know what he told me? He said it takes courage to play the game, any
game. He said I had to find the courage within myself to stand in the face
of adversity. Well, this is what he was talking about. Times like
this. Reach down inside yourself, man! Find that courage. I know it's there
because I know you. And another thing. Jack says you never let the other
guys know you're scared. Go out there and act confident. Take charge of
that huddle. Never say die. Be strong. You'll know what the hell to do. And
don't worry about the defense trying to screw you over. I'll take care of
that on the first play!"
 As he spoke these last words, PJ turned to glare out at the field. Brian
was watching him a little fearfully. He'd never seen PJ like this. "What
are you gonna do, PJ?" he asked in an uncertain voice.  "Never mind." PJ
turned to Phil again. "Phil, the first play you call will be a run
off-tackle from the 'I.'  After that, call whatever you think's best. Erik
trusts you and so do I. But that first play will be a run up the middle out
of the 'I' with my number."  "All right, PJ," Phil said.  They ran onto the
field with the rest of the offense. As Phil brought them into the huddle,
PJ saw some of the defenders pointing at the young boy and laughing. One of
them was the big middle linebacker who'd hurt Erik. PJ stared at him and
the boy arrogantly grinned back. Then PJ heard one of the Gordonsville
linemen say, "Shit, now we got the baby quarterback. Why bother playin' the
rest of the game." Instantly PJ turned on him and snarled, "If you don't
feel like playing for him, take your fat ass outta the game right now!"
Then, stepping even closer to the startled older boy he added menacingly,
"Stay in, go out--I don't give a shit! But if you stay in and you fuck up a
block and Phil gets hurt, I'll break your fuckin' ugly face before any of
these pussy-ass coaches can save you. Now what are you gonna do?"  Dustin
and Jacob had moved to either side of PJ and were staring at the lineman,
along with Cuyler, the tall tight end Curtis, and others. Daunted by this,
and frightened by the look in PJ's eyes, the older boy backed away. "OK-K,
OK," he stammered. "I was just kidding. Geez, tak-ke it easy!"  Turning to
the rest of the huddle, PJ hissed in a voice icy with fury, "These Barton
punks think they got us beat 'cause they put our quarterback out of the
game. You let them get away with that, then you mother fuckers are the
biggest pussies that ever lived!" He took a deep breath and then went on in
a calmer tone, "What these assholes don't know is that we have another
quarterback who in his own way is just as good. He's only eleven, so you're
gonna have to protect him a little better than you did Erik, but he's gonna
win this game for you if you give him a little help!" PJ gestured for the
Gordonsville players to gather in close. His voice turned cold once
more. "So, you want a Championship--or don't you? Get off your asses and
play! And one more thing. . . ." He met the eyes of each boy in the
huddle. "The piece of shit who hurt my roommate is leavin' this game after
the next play. Watch how I fuck him over, and remember what happens out
here to anybody that pisses me off enough! Call the play, Phil!"  The young
quarterback called for the off-tackle run PJ had demanded. PJ lined up, his
mind totally focused on what he had to do. He'd never felt so angry in his
life. It was as if a switch had been thrown in his head. When Erik had told
him what had happened, something had welled up and the killer instinct that
lurked within PJ, the instinct that drove him to defeat an opponent no
matter what the cost, took over. Erik wanted a Championship. PJ didn't
intend to let anything or anybody stand in the way of achieving that goal,
especially the punk on the other team who'd deliberately hurt his best
friend!  Phil called out the signals in his high, clear voice. "Set!
Hu-u-ut! Hut!" The ball was snapped and the young boy pivoted gracefully as
he'd done hundreds of times in Billy's backyard, handing off to PJ. Jacob
went barreling through the hole by the tackle as he was supposed to do. But
PJ didn't follow him. Instead, ball securely tucked under an arm, he
continued at top speed right up the middle by the center.  The Barton
middle linebacker was blitzing in just as PJ had been sure he would. The
big defender had put one quarterback out of the game, and now he wanted to
get another. He figured Phil would be an easy target and that he'd leave
the pipsqueak ball carrier to other tacklers. But it didn't work out that
way. Instead of trying to evade the linebacker, PJ ran right at him! That
Barton boy had no earthly idea that his opponent had learned how to play
football in a Chicago recreation league where the play had been a lot
rougher than anything ever taught at a prep school. Lowering head and
shoulders, PJ slammed into the kid with all the force of his compact,
powerful frame. His helmet speared the bigger player just below the
shoulder pads and hurled him backwards, driving him to the ground on his
back and knocking the wind completely out of him in an explosive grunt. As
he fell on top of his victim, PJ proceeded to use some of the things he'd
learned in those Chicago days. Knee drawn up when he landed, he rammed the
kid in the groin, expecting to drive his cup into his balls--only to
discover that the idiot wasn't wearing one! The hit caused the helpless
linebacker's mouth to open with a scream of agony--which was soundless
because he had no breath left. The pain and nausea were so excruciating
that he barely felt it when PJ reached down with his right and jammed the
kid's left thumb back until he felt it snap!. When other bodies landed on
top of them, PJ took advantage of the situation to continue grinding his
knee in the other boy's crotch and to keep his weight on the boy's chest so
he still couldn't breathe.  When the officials finally blew their whistles
and got the players untangled, the Barton linebacker was turning blue. PJ
got off him, tossed the football to an official, and walked away, face set
coldly. Behind him, the middle linebacker lay curled on the ground,
clutching his stomach and whooping for air like a gaffed fish. He still
hadn't discovered that his thumb was dislocated, but PJ was sure he'd
realize it soon enough. There was a timeout called for an injury and the
Barton coaches came out to take care of their thoroughly trashed player.
"Holy shit, PJ! Brian watched the linebacker being carried off the
field. "What did you do to him?  PJ shrugged. "I think he just had the
breath knocked out of him when he tried to tackle me."  Behind him, Phil
rolled his eyes. He and Brian looked at PJ in awe.  PJ was watching the
officials. There was a risk that they would throw him out of the game,
although he didn't think they could prove anything. There was a short
conference, and finally the referee signaled for play to continue. PJ went
back to the huddle, where every boy on the offensive unit eyed him
warily. "OK, Phil," PJ told his quarterback in a much calmer voice. "It's
all yours. Call it."  The drive that followed was a vindication of all the
confidence Erik had put in Phil. The young boy was inexperienced, he made
some mistakes, but they were more than made up for by his passing and PJ's
running. With the middle linebacker's removal from the game, there weren't
any more attempts by the defense to hurt anyone, and his replacement was
neither as good nor as big. In fact, PJ ran through him several times. It
seemed like the entire Barton defense was now wary of tackling PJ, and he
burned them again and yet again for big gains.  The nicest play of the
drive was a pass Phil completed to Brian. Phil had been rolling out to
throw just as Erik had, making it harder for Barton to blitz and target
him. He didn't have Erik's size, so he wasn't the running threat Erik
presented, but he was still fast and agile, so the defense had to take the
possibility of his scrambling for yardage seriously. On a first-and-ten
from the Barton forty-two, Phil scampered to his left, pulling the
secondary over in that direction, and then threw back across his body to
Brian, the wide receiver on the right, who was scooting down the
sideline. The difficult throw caught all the defenders by surprise. It
dropped perfectly into Brian's hands, and the tough youngster made it down
to the eighteen before being pushed out of bounds. PJ gave Brian a pat on
his butt as they went to the huddle. "Now we're rollin'!" he said. "Next
time you'll take it all the way!" Brian smiled happily.  In the huddle,
Phil called for the triple option. "Dawn-Rider-Seven!" he chanted in his
high voice. It was the first time he'd called a Top-Floor-Gang play. PJ
winked at him. On the snap, PJ and Jacob led Phil to the left side. The
defenders, expecting Phil to lateral, keyed on PJ. When he saw that, PJ
knew Phil would hang on to the ball and run with it. Jacob took out the end
coming up and PJ led Phil around the corner, cannoning into a defender,
which sent the kid sprawling back against another boy behind him. Hoping
that Phil would stay behind his blocks, he took out one more oncoming
tackler before the speedy little quarterback swept past. PJ followed the
play until Phil got pushed out of bounds on the six, and then ran out just
behind him to make sure there were no late hits. As he helped the younger
boy get to his feet, PJ grinned and said, "Gee, you quarterbacks are all
the same. Always trying to hog the glory! I bet you wanted to go all the
way." Phil giggled and nodded. "Yup."  They went over to gather the offense
together while the officials spotted the ball. "Take it in for me, PJ,"
Phil whispered, and then called the play. "La-Z-Boy-Two, Pancake-62-Blue,
Pancake-62-Blue, on One, Break!" It was the call for an off-tackle slant to
the left out of the pro-set, with PJ the ball carrier. On the snap, PJ
accelerated forward, took the handoff, and followed Dustin who was blocking
for him this time. Instantly, he saw that the hole was closed. The
offensive linemen, unable to get the jump on their defensive counterparts,
had not moved them out of the way. In front of him, Dustin had piled up on
the mass of bodies. Using all his lower body strength, PJ shifted direction
toward a glimpse of daylight in the middle of the line. Churning his legs,
he slipped by the center, exploded into the secondary rather than avoid the
replacement middle linebacker right in front of him, simply lowered his
shoulders, and hurtled forward, slamming the boy back and down on his rear
end. Hurdling over him, he dove into the end zone, rolled several times,
and bounced to his feet, holding the ball over his head in a victory
salute! Phil ran up to hug him, followed by Brian and Dustin. From the
stands came the sound of Gordonsville fans cheering. PJ dropped quickly to
one knee and grasped both Erik's and Billy's chains. "That was for you,
Erik," he whispered. "I'm gonna win this game for you.  An' I'm gonna help
you win the Championship. I swear it. No one ever had a better friend than
you."  When he got up and jogged off the field with his teammates, Coach
Lewis was on the sideline waiting for him. PJ removed his helmet, looked
up, and shouted over the noise, "I told you Phil could play! We're gonna
win this game!"  "All right, PJ." The young man stroked the boy's shoulder
and looked thoughtful. Then he rubbed PJ's hair. "That was a nice run,
Kiddo. Just take it easy out there now. Don't you get hurt too!"  "I
won't," PJ promised. He went directly over to Erik, who was smiling
happily, talking to Brian and Phil.  "I knew he could do it! I told you,"
Erik said as PJ came up. "What a nice drive. And what a beautiful pass he
made!"  "How's your knee?" PJ asked, kneeling down by his friend.  "It
kinda aches a little," Erik admitted.  "Let's get a fresh ice pack on it."
PJ started to unwrap the ace bandage.  "Aw, c'mon, PJ!" Those things are
cold!"  PJ ignored this and kept unwrapping. Phil ran to get another pack,
and Brian held it in place while PJ bound it on. PJ stroked his friend's
knee gently, and then looked up at Erik with a grave expression. "The kid
that did this to you is out of the game. He won't be hurting anybody else
for awhile."  Erik put his hand on PJ's and gave him a sarcastic
smirk. "Look, Roomie, murdering opposing linebackers is supposed to be
Dustin's job! Don't go spoiling his fun!" Then in a serious tone of voice
he added, "Don't get so upset out there, PJ. It's not worth it. I'm gonna
be all right. I promise."  PJ nodded. "I guess I got a little crazy. But
that kid needed the kinda football I learned in Chicago. I don't want
anybody hurting you, Erik, that's all," he quietly commented.  Erik rubbed
PJ's hand without saying anything.  Out on the field, Tommy had missed the
extra point. But Gordonsville now led Barton, 23-17!  Kip didn't miss his
kick. He sent a booming kickoff bouncing past the Barton deep men and into
their end zone. Barton got the ball on their own twenty. PJ and his friends
watched the Gordonsville defense stop the other team after giving up only
one first down. He and Brian were sent in to receive the punt.

"You stay right here, Phil," Erik told the youngster when he saw his
disappointment. "Don't even think about it. Now that Coach has finally
learned how valuable you are on offense, he's not about to risk your little
fanny returning stupid kicks!"

Brian was laughing when he and PJ went out. "What do I do if the ball comes
to my side, PJ?" he asked. "Hand it off to you or something?" PJ shook his
head. He was chuckling too. "No, just go with it." The punt did come to
Brian's side, but he never caught it because it was a pitifully short shank
out of bounds. Gordonsville took over on the Barton forty-eight.

Phil trotted onto the field and got them moving right away. Dustin ran to
the outside behind PJ's block and picked up four yards, after which Phil
passed to the tight end Lyle for another five. PJ plunged off-tackle for
the first down to the Barton thirty-six. As the third quarter ended, he was
confident that they were going to score again.

Phil called another Top Floor Gang signal for the first play of the fourth
quarter. "Tap-Dance-Six, Tap-Dance-Six," he cried, and PJ got himself set
to go out as a receiver. On the snap, he plunged into the line, but was
tripped as he went through. Stumbling off-balance for a few steps, it was a
few moments he could look back. Phil was in trouble.  Unable to find a
receiver, he was being chased by some defenders as he rolled out of the
pocket. PJ thought, He's gonna scramble and immediately looked for a player
to block. He took out one back coming in, but another Barton payer nailed
Phil with a jarring tackle. Though he had a good, tight grip on the ball,
the boy hitting him was much bigger. The football was torn from his grasp
and flew out to bounce on the grass. Like a cat, PJ twisted his body and
tried to scoop in the fumble, but he was too late. A Barton jersey flash in
front of him. Before he could snatch it up, the Barton player had the ball
and PJ could only fall on him to be sure he was down.

As quickly as he could, PJ went to help Phil up and get him off the
field. The boy was shaking and there were tears in his eyes when he sat on
the bench next to Erik. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, PJ," he kept saying
miserably, in a high little voice. He put his hands over his face.

"Is he all right?" Erik asked. He patted Phil on the back.

"He's all right." PJ was patting him too. "Just a little shaken up is all."

Coach Lewis hurried over. "Is he all right?" he asked, echoing Erik's
question.

PJ nodded. "He's OK, Coach." He knelt down in front of Phil and gently
pulled the boy's hands away from his face.

"I tried to hold on, PJ." Phil was nearly sobbing. "I thought I had it."

"It's OK, Phil," PJ soothed. "It's OK. You did the best you could. It's
going to be all right. Hey!" He shook Phil's hands up and down. "Hey! What
did I tell you Jack said to do if you made a mistake? Come on! Tell me!
What'd he say?"

Phil bit his lip, closed his eyes hard, and then opened them again. "Never,
never give up. If you make a mistake, you get up and try again harder."

"Right!" PJ replied. He let go of Phil's hands. "And that's just what
you're going to do. We're going to get that ball back. One way or another,
we'll get it back. And you're going to go back out there and you're going
to take us down the field again and this time we're going to score! Because
I promise you, Phil . . ."--PJ leaned close to the boy and stared intently
into his eyes--"I swear to you, we're going to win this game. I don't care
what happens; I don't care what the other team does. We are going to
win. And you're going to get us there. Now! What else did Jack say? What
did he say about finding courage?"

Phil looked back at PJ and said firmly, "He said you gotta find the courage
in yourself to stand in the face of adversity."

PJ nodded. "And you've got that courage, Phil. I know it. Let's be ready to
go out there again."

"I will be, PJ," Phil promised. "PJ? You know when I said I was scared
before?"

PJ nodded.

"It wasn't 'cause I was scared of being hurt," Phil told him. He put his
hand on PJ's arm. "I don't care about being hurt, PJ. I was only scared I
might let you and Erik down."

"I know you'll never let me down, Phil," PJ said softly. "I know you'll
always do your best."

Erik gave Phil another pat on his back. "I think you're doing just great."

PJ stood up and Coach Lewis put his arm around his shoulders. "OK, PJ," he
said kindly. He hugged the boy for a moment, and then went back to the
sideline.

Phil watched glumly as the Barton offense moved down the field. The stands
across the field were rocking with excited cheers. "They're going to
score," he said in a discouraged voice.

"They might," PJ said. "But if they do it won't help them. We're going to
score, too."

"When you scramble, Phil, don't try to be a running back," Erik advised.

"Yeah. Not until next year anyway, after you grow a little," Brian added
with a grin.

"Right," said Eric. "Try to avoid confrontations with those bigger guys. Do
like the pro quarterbacks do, slide or run out of bounds. That way they
can't get to you and you keep the edge."

"I'll remember," Phil promised.

Despite a strong goal-line effort by the Gordonsville defense, Barton at
last shoved their way into the end zone. Their wobbly kicker came in and
got the extra point, and they now led again, 24-23.

"Don't worry, Phil," PJ said pulling on his helmet. "We're gonna score next
ourselves. Get ready to come in and lead us down the field. Just keep
giving the ball to me." He and Brian went in to take the kick. "Let's rock
'n roll, Brian!" PJ shouted.

The kick was typically short and PJ ran up to take it near the
thirty-five. Instaed of dodging, he shot past his blockers right into the
surprised Barton defenders running towards him. After straight-arming one,
he spun out of the grasp of another before the rest could react, dashed
across midfield and accelerated down the sideline where the kicker barely
managed to push him out of bounds at the Barton thirty-six. PJ grinned with
exhilaration and clapped his hands as Phil and the offense joined him on
the field. "Here we go!" he yelled. "This time we score! Let's hit 'em
hard!"

Phil handed off to PJ on the first play and kept handing off to him as they
drove first past the thirty and then beyond the twenty. PJ hammered at the
defense. He knew they were getting tired and he sensed that he had them all
intimidated. None of the defenders dared tackle him alone. It always took
three or four to bring him down. He was running with abandon, no longer
even following his blocks but plunging into the line at random. On third
and one on the sixteen, PJ nudged Phil and whispered, "Dawn-Rider." Don't
pitch it. You're gonna take it in!"

Phil called for the option in the huddle. Dustin was in at fullback and as
they lined up, PJ told him, "Take that end out first. I'll lead Phil around
the corner. Make sure you flatten the guy!" His friend grinned and
nodded. They both got set. Phil stepped to the center and began his
count. "Set!" he yelled in his high, clear voice. He finished his cadence
and took the snap, pivoting and accelerating to his right. PJ and Dustin
had already started. Dustin shot ahead and slammed into the defensive end,
allowing the young quarterback to scamper after PJ around the corner. PJ
straight-armed a linebacker who'd followed the play, sending the boy
sprawling to the ground. Phil kept to the outside as PJ continued up the
field, the defenders in the secondary flinching back as he came at them
like an onrushing tank. Two defensive backs tried to angle in. PJ threw his
shoulder into the first one, driving him back onto the boy behind as PJ
literally ran through them while Phil shot past on the outside. The young
boy scampered over the goal line and held the ball up triumphantly! The
Gordonsville stands were cheering. PJ heard the shouts of his jubilant
teammates from the sideline. Phil spiked the ball and began to jump up and
down as if he'd gone crazy! He ran at PJ and leaped on him, holding on with
his arms and legs. "I did it!" he shouted happily. "I did it! I did it!,
PJ, I scored a touchdown! I did it! You blocked for me and I did it!  PJ,
PJ, we did it!"

PJ hugged the excited boy and dropped him to his feet as Brian ran up to
give him a hug of his own and to pound him on the back. "Way to go, Roomie!
Way to go!"

PJ escorted the two jubilant boys to the sidelines where Phil received more
congratulations, including a shoulder hug from Coach Lewis, who knelt to
talk with him. PJ went over to sit by Erik. "Nice going, PJ," Erik told him
with a smile.

"I figured it would make him feel better after that fumble," PJ
said. "Erik, I think we're going to win unless something dumb happens."

Tommy missed the extra point try by inches when Cuyler made an
uncharacteristically bad snap, but Gordonsville had regained the lead,
29-24.

On the kick off, the Barton return man was clobbered by a fired-up
Gordonsville special team and only brought the ball out to their
twenty-seven.

"Come on, defense, shut 'em down," PJ yelled.

"Let's just hope we can stop 'em now," Erik said. Scenting victory, the
Gordonsville defense went to work, wrapping up the Barton runners, making
yardage on the ground tough to get. In desperation their quarterback
attempted more passes. Somehow he kept them moving and they as they found
yardage on the ground harder to get. Moving slowly, they fought all the way
down to the Gordonsville eleven. But once there they stalled on a
third-and-nine when a pass try was batted away in the end zone. "All
right!" PJ cheered, with Brian and Phil doing likewise beside him.

"Think they'll go for it on fourth down, PJ?" Brian asked.

"Nope, I bet they try the field goal," PJ told him. "They'll think that
there's time for them to get one more possession. What they don't know is
that we're going to score another TD!"

As if the other coach was listening in on PJ's prediction, the Barton
field-goal unit ran on to the field. Their wobbly kicker just barely got
the ball through the uprights and the score changed to 29-27, with
Gordonsville still barely in the lead.

"OK, Brian. We're going to do this again!" PJ said as the two of them went
on the field to receive the kickoff. This time Barton tried an onside kick,
but PJ anticipated it when he saw them shift all their upfront players to
one side. When the ball went skittering through the Gordonsville formation,
he came sprinting up to get it only to be beaten by an alert teammate
playing up front. Phil jogged out with the offense to start them on their
own thirty-eight. "Just keep giving me the ball," PJ reminded him.

Again and again, PJ hammered into the Barton defense, wearing them down and
using up the clock. The opposition tried everything to stop him, including
blitzing their linebackers and chop-blocking Jacob, Dustin, and the other
teammates who were running interference. But the Gordonsville boys gave no
quarter either, not to mention PJ himself, who purposely bulled into any
Barton player who tried to tackle him on his plunges into the line. He
hurled one kid to the ground, stomping on him as he went by. He made steady
gains of three to eight yards on every carry. Gordonsville advanced down
the field like a machine as the minutes in the last quarter ticked away.

At last, when they had reached the twelve-yard line, PJ nudged Phil as he
came into the huddle. "Tap-Dance," he whispered. "I'll be your prime
receiver, but scramble it in yourself if you have to. You call the shots!"

Phil's eyes gleamed. In the huddle he made his last call of the
game. "Tap-Dance-Six, Tap-Dance-Six, Pancake-Texas-Gold,
Pancake-Texas-Gold, on Three, Break!"

PJ nodded his head admiringly. Courageous to the end, Phil was going to
rollout to his right--the most difficult direction for a left-handed
passer. But on that side he would have both Brian and PJ in front of him as
receivers and Dustin for blocking if he had to scramble.

The young boy strode confidently to the line while PJ and Dustin slapped
palms and spread out behind him. "Set!" he called out in his sweet, piping
voice. "Hu-u-ut! Hut! Hut!"

On the snap, PJ cut directly into the line. Phil and Dustin rolled out. PJ
knew without looking that Dustin would flatten any defender that tried to
come in on Phil. Once he was in the secondary, he angled across the field
and down toward the goal. The defense split as he moved into the
crease. Phil made his decision. His pass spiraled toward PJ, beautifully
thrown and high enough to clear the line. PJ leaped to get it, his body
extending gracefully. Gathering in the ball and jamming it under his left
shoulder, he landed running, brushed aside with his right arm a back who
tried to tackle him at the goal line, and hurtled into the end zone holding
up the ball in victory!

As soon as he slowed down, he dropped, as usual, to one knee. His hand was
shaking because of how tightly he was holding Erik's chain. That touchdown
was for you, Jack, he vowed to himself. He closed his eyes just as tightly
to keep from crying. I saved it for you, Jack. I saved the last one for
you. I know what I did to that kid was wrong. I know it wasn't good
sportsmanship. But Erik's my brother, Jack. I love him. I don't want people
to hurt him. I know you'll understand.

"PJ!" It was Phil's voice. He felt a hand on his shoulder pad. PJ got up
and turned around. Phil and Brian were both standing next to him. "PJ, are
you all right?" Brian asked anxiously.

PJ brushed some tears from his cheeks. "I'm OK," he said. He could hear the
sounds of the Gordonsville rooters cheering from the bleachers. With a
smile, he handed the football to Phil. "Congratulations, Phil. That was a
beautiful pass. You've just been fantastic today. I just . . . Geez, I'm
just real happy for you!"

"Thanks, PJ." Phil gave PJ a look that was pure adoration.

The three boys ran to the sideline where they were swept up by celebrating
teammates. PJ got away as quickly as he could and went to sit on the bench
with Erik. Together they watched as Tommy made the extra point.

"It's 36-27 an' just a couple of minutes to go," Erik said. "You put it
outta their reach, PJ!"

"Phil did," PJ corrected him. "You were right about him, Erik. We needed
him."

"You knew that we'd need him, too."

"Yeah!"

While the teams line up for the kickoff, Erik said, "PJ?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"For what?"

"For everything."

PJ put an arm around his friend's shoulders. They watched Barton take Kip's
kick and return it to their twenty-three. Brian and Phil came over and sat
on either side of them. Erik gave Phil's shoulders a hug and said something
to him. The younger boy looked down smiling proudly, blushing.

The Barton team was unable to score in the last two minutes despite using
all their timeouts. When the clock ran out, they were still on their own
forty. Their last desperation pass fell short of the receiver and bounced
away, and the final score remained Gordonsville 36, Barton 27. PJ thought
of a line he'd heard somewhere or other: "Close, but no cigar!" and at the
same time spat out under his breath, Nice try, suckers!  while glaring
across the field at the opposing sideline. You thought you were gonna beat
us? Not!

Next to him, Erik was biting his lower lip, rubbing the Ace wrap on his
knee, obviously still in pain from his injury. PJ was determined to keep up
a cheerful, encouraging demeanor for his friend. Coach Lewis had assured
him that Erik would be okay, and PJ wanted to believe that. But inside, he
was sick with worry!  What if Coach was wrong? What if Erik was the season,
or even worse--forever?!

The hell with sportsmanship! PJ told himself. He was in no mood to go over
and shake hands with any of the Barton players.


CONCLUSION OF INSTALLMENT FORTY-FIVE
Editor Paul Scott's E-mail address: paulkdoctor@gmail.com


* * *


CONCLUSION OF INSTALLMENT FORTY-FIVE

Editor Paul K. Scott's e-mail: paulkdoctor@gmailcom

Keep them cards an' letters comin'!