The Seventh Grade Wars

CHAPTER 35: JK

The first football practice was the Monday after the tryouts. My mom wasn't too pleased about it, although she tried to mask it.

"Hey, Mom, I'm going to be home late today," I said. "And every day of the week, pretty much."

"What do you mean?" she said. "You're home late more often than you're not."

"Okay, well, I'll be home later, I rephrased. 

"And just why is that, Johnson?"

"I made football tryouts," I answered casually.

"Oh, that's great!" she said, but didn't sound too enthusiastic. "Your dad loved football too, I remember."

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Nothing. I'm just wondering when all your schoolwork will get done, Johnson. And I do expect it to."

"Of course, Mom," I said, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. "You'll see my report card and you'll be pretty impressed. I promise."

Morton was coaching the football team, which none of us were too thrilled about. 

"He looks like a twerp," complained Ryan at lunch. "What's he doing, playing football, anyhow?"

"Hello? Did you guys see him throw?" said Thomas. "Pretty impressive, y'know."

After school, we headed to the field, where Morton was waiting with his giant sack of footballs. 

"First thing's first," he said. "We're going to do some drills to get you Twinkies in shape."

"Little hypocritical of you, isn't it, Morton?" said Oscar, "to call us Twinkies."

"Clam it," Morton said. "Anyhow, we have our first game next month and I want you all in good shape to do it. Danny Soulker will be keeping score."

I choked on my own spit. "Danny?"

"How d'you know Danny Soulker?" said Thomas, his face scrunching up tight.

"Just so happens he's my little brother," said Morton. "Funny how things go, isn't it?" he leaned in closer. "Now, listen. Danny's still real little, and word got round that you all aren't being too nice to him."

"It's not us," protested Ryan. "It's Jessica Malboy."

Morton waved his hand like swatting a fly. "Yeah, sure," he said, "but I'm sure you punks have been helping her out, haven't you? Well, you just keep it up and you might find yourselves kicked out of this football team. Got it?"

"Yes," we said.

"Good." Morton dumped the footballs out onto the field. "Everybody grab a football and a partner. Let's get started."

Danny had never said a thing about an older brother. This had come as a shock. Not to mention that Danny and Morton were the least people I would have paired to be siblings. Morton had brown hair, Danny had red. Morton didn't seem to swift, and Danny seemed all too smart. But I hadn't been messing with Danny at all. 

I would have befriended him. Except, I couldn't.