Goal Line (13 page)

“But is this going to go on the whole football season? Because I'll be honest with you, I think it's taking its toll on my star halfback.”

“No, Coach. I can handle it,” Tiki insisted.

Wheeler smiled sadly. “Schoolwork too?”

“I can handle it,” Tiki repeated, leaving no more room for doubt.

“All right, then,” Coach finally said, giving up. “Go on out and practice. But I hope we won't have to talk about this again.”

“We won't,” Tiki promised, and got out of there as fast as he could.

Coach Wheeler's words bothered him greatly. It wasn't that he had said anything Tiki hadn't already told himself. It's just that it was different coming from your head coach, the man you turned to for advice more than anyone except…

Hmmm
, thought Tiki.
Maybe I should ask her.

PLUNK!!

Again, incredibly, the football hit him right in the helmet. Manny, who had thrown the ball, started laughing hysterically. “Tiki's in dreamland again!” he said, pointing.

“Yoo-hoo,” Paco chimed in. “Lassie, come home!”

Everyone was laughing now. Everyone but Tiki. He was thinking of Cootie, and how people must laugh at him all the time. This was how it felt. He told himself to remember the feeling. Hopefully it would help him come up with an answer for Cootie's problem.

As for himself, Tiki decided to just ignore the laughter. When game time came against Pulaski, he would show them all that he could handle it—the game, the column, his schoolwork, being the big man on campus. Everything.

For now he just kept repeating the mantra that had gotten him this far: Play proud. He was a dynamo for the rest of practice, and nobody laughed when he slammed into them carrying the football.

Nobody.

Still he wondered if it was nothing more than a slogan, if his confidence was just an act to fool everyone else. He remembered when Ronde wondered the same thing about him. He remembered his twin's words of advice too.
Most people already know what they should do.

Could he really handle it all, and do his best at everything?

“Yes,” he muttered under his breath. “I can, because I have to. Everyone is counting on me, and I can't let them down.”

If the truth was that he couldn't handle it all, that he wasn't as perfect as everyone thought he was—well, he wasn't ready to admit that. Not yet. Not even to himself.

• • •

Tiki tried to stay ahead of things that week. He spent every second of study hall doing homework, so that when he got home after practice he'd have time to answer all those letters asking for his advice.

He answered the easy ones first, just like the week before. Then he tackled the three or four that were the most challenging. From these he picked the one that he wanted to use for next week's column. By the time he'd finished, it was nine thirty again. Time for dessert and bed, and nothing else.

This couldn't go on—not for the rest of the school year, or the rest of the football season. He hadn't had a second to himself, just to relax, since Ms. Adair had handed out the form for that stupid essay contest.

No, it wasn't stupid, he admitted to himself. In another world, where he wasn't the star of the football team, it might have been a fantastic opportunity for him.

But the way things were?

Tiki felt like he was about to burst from all the pressure that was being put on him.

He washed up, brushed his teeth, and got into bed. Ronde was already snoring. It didn't take him long, Tiki thought with a pang of jealousy. All Ronde had to worry about was hitting his growth spurt. Nothing to keep him awake at night.

And then Tiki remembered—he hadn't thought of a
solution to Cootie's problem! Oh, no. Now he'd never get to sleep!

What could he tell the poor kid?

The game against Pulaski came up so fast that Tiki almost didn't see it coming. Was it really Friday already? Had the whole week gone by without him noticing the passing of the days?

He'd been to practice twice, although he hadn't done very well. He could see the looks Coach Wheeler kept giving him, and he knew what they meant. Coach had not been convinced by Tiki's statement that he could handle three things at once—football, schoolwork, and his job at the school paper.

That job had gotten much bigger. If he was honest with himself, Tiki had to admit that it was other kids' troubles that had occupied most of the time, attention, and space in his brain these past two weeks.

Although he still hadn't figured out an answer to Cootie's problem, he
had
gotten all twenty-three advice letters answered, and he'd picked the one he thought was best for his second column. He left the rest of his responses in a box at the
Weekly Eagle
, for private pickup by Anxious, Nerdy, Clueless, and all the other kids who'd written him under made-up names, hoping for an answer to their problems.

This week Tiki had also taken his math and English
unit tests. Ouch. Tiki bit his lip as he remembered how blindsided he'd been by his grades—B minus in English, and C in math!

His mom had not been pleased. “What is this you're handing me?” she'd asked him, her eyes burning right through him. “This is not
my
son's test. This is some other mother's son's test. My son doesn't bring home Cs and B minuses. He takes his education seriously.”

“
I
take
my
education seriously,” Ronde had piped up.

“Be quiet, Ronde,” their mom had said. “You got very nice grades, but I'm talking to your brother now.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

Tiki had shot Ronde an annoyed look, and then had turned to face his mom.

“Do you have an explanation for me?” she'd asked.

He'd shrugged. “I guess I didn't study hard enough.”

“How much time did you give to each subject?”

He'd shrugged again. “I didn't count.”

“Well, you'd better devote more time from now on. I don't want to see these kinds of grades again. Ever. Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma'am.” And that had been the end of it, at least for that evening. But he had studied for both those tests. The trouble was, he'd kept getting distracted, finding himself drawn into those tricky problems so many of his fellow students seemed to be grappling with!

Tiki knew in his heart that Coach Wheeler and Ronde
were right. Agreeing to do the advice column had been a mistake. But what could he do now? So many kids were depending on him.

And now here it was, Friday afternoon, and they were riding the bus for their third straight road game, into the jaws of the hated, dreaded Pulaski Wildcats.

FOR THE PAST MONTH RONDE HAD BEEN BRISTLING
over the fact that Tiki was bigger than him. Not just taller, or stronger, or having bigger muscles, or getting all the attention because as a running back he scored more touchdowns than Ronde. No, it wasn't just that. It was also his winning the essay contest when Ronde had gotten only an honorable mention. And it was Tiki's getting offered the advice column when it was he, Ronde, who always had the best advice to give.

Yes, okay, he admitted it. He was jealous of his twin. But the worst part was when the Eagles themselves started buying into it. “We can't lose!” the younger players would keep saying. “We've got Tiki!” Not “We've got the Barber twins,” but “We've got Tiki.” He loved his brother, of course—and he wished him well, but not more well than he wished himself!

It made Ronde's blood boil. But it also made him worry about Tiki. His twin had been in a haze all week. It had started with that stupid essay contest, and things had only gotten worse since he'd started writing that advice
column. Tiki had never come home with such bad grades before. Even Ronde was shocked. If Tiki wasn't paying attention to his schoolwork, how was he going to give football everything he had?

For the past two weeks the Eagles had come from behind after playing ugly most of the game. They'd gotten lucky both times. But expecting lightning to strike three times in the same place was a recipe for getting shocked. The Pulaski Wildcats were not just good. They'd finished in first place the year before, and they were almost all returning ninth graders. They were deep, experienced, and loaded for bear. Everyone—especially Pulaski—wanted revenge on the Eagles.

If the Eagles had an ugly start today, things could go south in a hurry. And if Tiki played at less than his best, it would take the air right out of the Eagles' balloon. All those “We can't lose, we've got Tiki” chants. What would those kids think if Tiki choked in the clutch?

He'd been awful in practice all week, but that didn't seem to bother anybody else except Ronde and Coach Wheeler. Everyone else, including Tiki, kept brushing it off, saying it was only practice.

That wasn't the way to win, and Ronde and Coach both knew it. Tiki used to know it too. What had happened to him?

Ronde thought he knew. He'd tried talking to Tiki, but his twin was too proud to change his mind.

Well, there was nothing Ronde could do about it now. If Tiki wasn't going to bring his “A” game, that was out of Ronde's hands.

What he could control was his
own
performance, he realized. “Good things come in small packages,” he reminded himself, grinning as he remembered the subject of his honorable-mention-winning essay.

“Game on!” he shouted as he and Tiki led the team out of the tunnel and onto the field. They were greeted by a chorus of boos from the stands packed with Pulaski fans.
Not exactly polite
, thought Ronde. But hey, when you're state champs, the also-rans are not going to give you a lot of love.

The Eagles received the kickoff, with Ronde getting tackled at the forty yard line. Their first drive featured Manny going to the air. They managed to get off a few completions because the Wildcats had been expecting to see a lot of Tiki, a star they knew from last year. Instead Coach Wheeler threw them a curveball, and it resulted in a field goal for the Eagles.

But Pulaski had come to play on offense. By running on virtually every play, they steered clear of Ronde. Their well-executed blocks created lots of space for the halfback and fullback, and before long Pulaski had a 7–3 lead.

On their next three drives, the Eagles went with their ground game. Tiki wasn't making much progress, though.
Every time he tried to find a hole, it was quickly closed and he had to settle for short yardage. The Eagles did manage one more field goal before the half, but that was all.

Pulaski, however, was unstoppable. They scored two more touchdowns before the half, and were driving again when the gun sounded. The Eagles staggered into the locker room, down 21–6 and showing no signs of life.

Coach Wheeler lit into the linemen first. “You've got to hold your lanes!” he shouted. “Hit 'em low, and quit grabbing. Those penalties are killing us! And, Tiki, if you don't see daylight, you've got to rethink the play, understand? You can't keep hitting your head against a brick wall and expect it to give way!”

Tiki nodded, staring at the floor between his legs.

“I thought we went over this in the video,” Wheeler said, still focused on Tiki. “Their middle linebacker, he's the one to keep your eye on. When he cuts one way, you cut the other. Don't you remember? Or weren't you paying attention?”

Tiki shrugged. To Ronde it looked like his twin was ready to cry. Wheeler must have sensed it too, because he backed off.

“Use your head, Tiki, like you usually do. We need you out there, giving it everything you've got. Understand?”

Tiki nodded again, but his head stayed down. The locker room was dead silent. Their captain on offense
had just gotten a dressing-down from the coach! Their invincible hero had just been humbled.

“Okay, listen up. They get the ball first next half,” Wheeler went on. “Defense, I want you thinking about stripping the ball. We've got to create some mistakes and throw them off their game a little. Right now they've got all the momentum. I want each of you to think about how you're going to be the one to make the play that swings the game around! Now get back out there, Eagles, and show them what you're made of!”

They went back out, but many of them didn't look convinced by Coach Wheeler's speech.

Ronde, for his part, had taken Coach's words to heart. “It's gonna be me,” he told himself. “Good things come in small packages. Good things come in small packages.”

He flew down the field after the kickoff, and upended the runner so fiercely that he tumbled head over heels, hitting the ground so hard that the ball came loose! An Eagles player fell onto it for the recovery, and Coach Wheeler had the big momentum-shifting play he'd asked for!

“How'd you do that, Bro?” Tiki asked, grinning.

Ronde stared back at him without smiling. “Good things come in small packages, dude. He never saw me coming.”

Tiki's jaw dropped. “That's it!” he cried.

“That's what?”

“N-never mind,” Tiki said, waving him off. “Gotta get out there.”

Ronde sat on the bench and watched to see if the momentum of the game really had shifted.

It had. Tiki took the ball on first down and made two quick cuts that left him free in the flat. Deking and spinning, he fought forward for eighteen yards and a first down!

In no time the Eagles were at the gates, first and goal at the seven. Tiki took the ball from Manny and ran behind Justin toward the corner. Just before getting there, Tiki cut straight back and downfield, finding a seam that hadn't been there a moment before, and leaving the Wildcats' star middle linebacker flat on his face in the grass!

On the next Pulaski drive Ronde lined up right on the line of scrimmage. Every play, he knocked his man out of the action with ferocious hits. Rob Fiorilla stuffed two runs that came his way, getting there before the ballcarrier to stuff the hole. On third down Ronde blitzed and grabbed the runner as he tried to go by him, throwing him for a loss. The Wildcats were forced to punt, and Ronde returned it all the way to the Pulaski twenty-five.