Alan Victorious

Alan Brownville stood outside the big south window of the school library. It felt strange, standing outside and looking in. Most days during his lunch break, he would be inside, helping shelve books. But today was different.

Today was the first game of flag football. Alan was finally in sixth grade, and the rule said that any sixth grader was allowed to play flag football. No tryouts needed. In all his years at Pinewood Elementary, Alan had never tried out before. He knew he'd never make the team.

Alan was clumsy, slow, and couldn't seem to make his hands do what his mind wanted: In second grade his father made him play tee-ball. He never once hit the ball off the tee.

But ever since the end of last year's season, when the boys dropped their flags in the box for the last time, and trudged off the field full of laughter and memories ... ever since then, a wish had rooted in Alan's brain.

I want to be one of them, whispered the wish.

All summer, at sudden times, when he read in his room or rode in the car to the beach with his brothers, Alan would summon the wish and wonder: could he do it? Next year, could he leave his cocoon in the library and stride onto the football field?

Now that the day was here, and he saw the other boys strut their way outside, Alan trembled. He feared the other boys, especially Brad Armstrong.

Brad was the strongest kid in the sixth grade, and he could get mean. He always threw a few insults Alan's way, calling him "weenie", "momma's boy" and "book baby." But mostly he left Alan alone because Alan didn't get in his way.

So why did Alan want to play? If you asked him, he would probably say he just wanted to play the game once before going on to middle school. Just to say he had done it, that he was more than a library nerd. That he could do more than just read about adventures; he could live in them, too.

But the truth was worse. Deep down, Alan hoped that once he got on the field he would somehow blossom into a sports star; that somewhere inside him lurked instincts that would explode and Alan would snatch the football from the sky, sprint and dodge down the field like a bullet, and win the respect of the boys and the adulation of the girls.

Deep down Alan dreamed he could be a hero.

So, Alan took a deep breath and marched toward the field, straight to the keeper of the flags, Ms. Shirley. She had been volunteering at the school since Alan's parents were little. She knelt by the box of flag belts and handed them out to the players. Alan got in line. Standing in line wasn't that hard. No one had called him out, said you don't belong here, geek. o far, so good. But then the person in front of Alan turned around.

Oh, no, thought Alan

It was Peter Dane, Brad's chief henchman. He wasn't as big as Brad, but he was meaner.

"Are you lost?" said Peter.

"No," mumbled Alan, barely audible.

"Go back to the library with the rest of the girls," said Peter. He turned his back on Alan, confident his command would be obeyed.

Alan looked back to the library. He was tempted to slink away, and flee to his nook in the library. But a little blossom of courage still remained in Alan's chest, and he decided he wasn't going to let that fire go out. He stood his ground.

"I'm going to play," Alan said, still quietly, but more clearly this time.

Peter turned back to Alan, towering over him.