Date: Sat, 19 Dec 2015 09:25:50 -0500
From: Paul Knoke <paulkdoctor@gmail.com>
Subject: INSTALLMENT THIRTY-NINE of "THE FATHER CONTRACT"

INSTALLMENT THIRTY-NINE
from

THE FATHER CONTRACT
by

Arthur J. Arrington

Edited Paul K. Scott

Please consider a donation to Nifty to keep this thrilling story of PJ
going on and on!

Chapter Seventy-Two: The Secret Visit

On Thursday, during the long bus ride across Pennsylvania to the Foxton
School, PJ made up his mind that Jack was going to be there to watch him
play. Everyone else's dad had come to a game. Except Phil's, PJ reminded
himself. But Phil's dad would eventually come too. He'd promised. Now it
was Jack's turn.

PJ had it all worked out. The first game of the World Series was not until
Saturday, so Jack would have plenty of time to come. Plus, the Series was
starting in Boston. The Foxton School campus would be right on Jack's way
as he came back from Cleveland! And Jack had to know how much PJ wanted him
to come to a game. He just had to! Maybe he was still mad about Chicago,
but now that the Sox were American League Champs and in the World Series,
Jack would be happy, and he'd remember his Little Champ, and for sure he'd
sneak away from the big team and come watch him play! For sure he would!

In the seat next to him, Erik was talking about something, but PJ only
pretended to listen, his imagination busy visualizing how Jack's visit
would pan out.

It's gotta be all secret. No one can know but me. If he got recognized,
there'd be reporters. No! We'll do it like when he came to see me
before. He'll sneak in. He'll wear dark glasses. No one will know
him. He'll find a seat where he can see all the action but not draw
attention to himself. He'll watch me and when I look his way he'll stand up
so I can recognize him. We won't wave. That would attract attention. But
I'll know he's there.

PJ was smiling, hugging the great secret to himself, when Erik gave him an
elbow jab in the ribs.

"PJ, did you get enough sleep last night? You've been in dreamland all
morning. I don't think you've heard anything I've been saying."

Startled, PJ snapped back to reality. "I'm listening, Erik. I was just
thinking about something. What have you been saying?"

"I was saying," Erik went on with exaggerated patience, "that I explained
our secret plays to Sandy, Dustin, and Jacob so they know what to do if I
call them when Brian gets into the game. And by the way, you better check
on Phil. The poor kid is bus sick and we need to do something."

"Uh-oh!" PJ twisted around to peer into the seat behind them. Phil sat
there looking miserable, his face a greenish pallor. He lifted his eyes to
PJ and said, pathetically, "PJ, I don't feel good." A concerned Brian was
supporting him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Okay, hang on!" PJ reached into his duffel, took out a brown paper sack
lined inside with a plastic bag, and climbed over Erik to get into the
aisle. "Brian, you sit with Erik for awhile." Sliding Phil over into the
window seat, he lifted the glass a crack for cool air to blow in. Then he
handed his young friend the bag. "Here ya' go. If you need to unload, put
it right in there. I always bring one of these just in case 'cause I get
sick, too. I'm not sure if it's the bus or sitting next to Erik that does
it." Erik and Brian, who were leaning over their seat backs to watch, both
laughed, and even Phil gave a little giggle. PJ rubbed his back gently as
the boy hunched over the bag and barfed his guts out.

Knowing exactly how horrible and embarrassing this sort of thing was, PJ
attempted some diversion by asking, "Did you have a chance to see Jack's
miracle catch on TV yet?"

Phil shook his head.

"They were showing it again on the news just before we left. It was
awesome. He was playing over near the line in right and. . . ." PJ
described the final out as Phil listened and Brian along with Erik
interrupted with enthusiastic commentary. Gradually, Phil's color improved.

"I wish I'd seen that." He raised his head from the bag and wiped his lips
with his shirt sleeve. "It's a bummer those games are on so late."

"Yeah. That's gonna be a real problem during the Series," PJ agreed. "But
Mr. Williamson has it all on tape."

"Hey, I just saw a good license plate!" Erik exclaimed. "North
Carolina. Okay, trivia question. What does it say on the North Carolina
license plate?"

"'First in Flight' with a picture of the Wright Brothers' airplane," Phil
promptly answered.

"All right!" Erik held out a fist which first Phil and then Brian tapped,
Brian saying proudly, "If it's about aviation, Phil knows it."

"Okay, let's collect license plates," Erik told them. "But you get double
points if you can say the special motto if it has one. Except for
Pennsylvania. There's a million a' them."

"Keystone State!" Brian said anyway, and they all laughed.

PJ added, "That's a term from baseball."

"No, from architecture," Phil corrected.

But Erik was laughing and shaking his head. "It's sorta from both,
Phil. Don't argue with PJ about baseball stuff. He's an expert! I can see
that this is gonna be fun."

They spent the rest of the trip into western Pennsylvania looking for
license plates and found several good ones, including a rare one from
Arizona. "Grand Canyon State!" Brian sang out.

"What the heck are they doing here?" Phil wondered.

Struggling hard to keep a straight face, Brian answered, "Obviously they're
here to see our game!"

License-plate spotting kept them all amused (and more importantly, Phil
distracted from any more bus sickness), until they reached their
destination. As they drove onto the Foxton campus, PJ looked around
curiously. The Foxton School was much newer than Gordonsville. The
buildings were all brick and glass. There were very few trees.

"They got a nice field," Erik said, pointing. PJ turned and saw bleachers
and a scoreboard. There were huge light towers around them. "I guess their
Upper School Varsity plays at night," he said.

The locker rooms were in a modern brick sports complex with a gymnasium and
a six-lane Olympic pool. PJ peered in curiously as they walked by. There
was a swim practice of some kind going on but he didn't see anyone he
recognized. He took his time getting dressed. Garry, the starting running
back, was still in the infirmary with the flu, Sandy's ankle remained
questionable, and since PJ was stepping up into their assignments, he
wanted everything to be just right. He asked one of the assistants to tape
the extra pad over his right hip for additional protection, the same
arrangement he'd used in the last game. Erik teased him when he saw all the
adhesive. "It's gonna be a job getting that stuff off your butt after the
game, PJ. I hope you don't have to take a dump at halftime!"

"I made sure I went already," PJ assured him, smirking. He was glad Erik
made the joke because it helped relieve some nervousness he was feeling
about playing the running-back position for the first time in a game.

Coach Lewis stopped PJ at the door before he went out and put an arm around
his shoulders. "Do your best for us today, PJ. If you have any trouble out
there, or start getting tired, let me know. We've got Sandy's ankle taped
and he can help out. Don't try to be a hero."

As they jogged to the field, PJ checked the stands. There were only a
scattering of people on the Gordonsville side, mostly the wives and small
children of their coaches, but a few parents too. "There's Bill!" he told
Erik. His roommate looked and waved to his stepfather, who was sitting in
the middle about halfway up. Bill waved back, shouting something that
sounded like "Good luck!" PJ scanned the other people in the bleachers. No
one there looked like Jack, but he hadn't expected him to be around that
soon anyway. Jack would slip into a spot once the game started so as not to
be noticed. He looked around at the surrounding fields and parking lots. No
one like Jack there either. But he'll be here! he told himself.

It was an overcast day, the air chilly, so PJ took an extra good
warm-up. The hip felt loose, no pain even when he made his cuts. He felt
just right; a little keyed-up in anticipation of a good game, and excited
because he was so convinced that Jack was coming. He hoped he could do well
at the running-back position for Jack, but he knew that whatever he did
Jack would still be proud of him. He closed his eyes and smiled happily.

"Come on, PJ, stop daydreaming," Erik said. "Take a few handoffs from me."

On the other side of the field, the stands were full, the crowd noisy as
they got ready for the kickoff. Gordonsville won the coin toss and PJ got
back on the Gordonsville twenty-yard line, ready to receive the ball with
Dustin, the substitute fullback, on the other side from him. Bet they'll
kick it to me, he thought. Dustin's looks bigger, so they'll wanna kick to
a smaller kid.

Sure enough, the kick, a good one, high and deep, came plummeting down in
his direction. PJ back-pedaled, took it on the thirteen, and sidestepped a
tackler before following his blockers upfield. He hurdled another would-be
tackler and tried to accelerate to full speed, but was forced toward the
sideline as a wall of defenders rose in front of him. After he took out one
with a straight arm, he danced up the white line for another ten yards
until finally being driven out of bounds on the forty by a hard
shove. While he was stumbling to keep on his feet, he was hit again in what
could have been called a penalty for unnecessary roughness. Yet the
officials either didn't see it or just ignored it.

"These guys definitely play hardball," Dustin said as he helped his
teammate up. PJ felt like he'd been run over by a truck. There was a sharp
twinge of pain in his right side, but he had little time to worry about
it. He had to join up with the rest of the offense now trotting onto the
field to form around Erik.

The first quarter minutes ticked away, while Erik tried various play
combinations against the big Foxton defensive line. He had little
success. Two plunges by PJ up the middle, with Jacob blocking, resulted in
only six yards. On third down, Erik's pass attempt was knocked away, so
they had to punt. "We'll try using your speed against them next time," Erik
promised as he and PJ watched the defense go to work.

The Foxton offense was slow, without much of a passing attack. Like
Hagerton Regional, they relied on a stout offensive line and plunging runs
by their backs. When the Gordonsville defense proved equal to the job of
stopping them, PJ went back onto the field to receive Foxton's punt, but it
went out of bounds at the Gordonsville forty-eight, with no runback.

For the first play of the new drive, Erik called a sweep. PJ took the
handoff, streaked around the end while the defense was still trying to
react, and picked up seventeen yards before being tackled. Gordonsville
moved into Foxton territory for the first time. "Now we've got it going,"
Erik said enthusiastically. He began mixing his calls, throwing short
passes to one of the receivers, and sending PJ out around the ends from
both the "I" and the pro-set. Jacob and Dustin made some nice blocks,
allowing Gordonsville to move smoothly down the field, despite frantic
urging for a defensive stop coming from the Foxton crowd.

Inside the red zone, on a second and goal from the eight-yard line, Erik
called for yet another sweep out of the pro-set, but the defense had seen
that play once too often. As PJ took Erik's handoff, he spotted the Foxton
linebackers already shifting over, prepared to cut both Dustin and himself
down. So instead of running where they expected, he cut immediately into
the line. Seizing on a momentary opening by the Gordonsville left tackle,
he spun out of the grasp of an opposing lineman, shot forward, and raced
across the goal line, holding the ball up in his victory salute! There was
an enthusiastic cheer from the sparse Gordonsville rooters. Only silence
came from the opposite stands. One of the linebackers, on his way to the
sideline, glared at PJ as he went by. "You won't be so lucky next time, you
little shit!" he snarled.

Ignoring this, PJ dropped to one knee, still clutching the football. "That
was for you, Jack," he whispered. "My first touchdown as a running back! I
hope you got here in time to see me."

A moment later he was engulfed by Erik, Brian, and his other teammates who
escorted him happily off the field. "Super move, Roomie!" Erik exclaimed,
his left arm around PJ's shoulder. When I saw they had the play, I thought,
Ah, shit! An' then you went and changed direction on 'em!"

While acknowledging Erik's compliment, PJ anxiously searched the
Gordonsville stands. He'd been checking them every few minutes since the
game began, and now he looked again, praying to find what he so longed to
see. There was Bill, standing up, waving . . . a few other friends and
parents who'd made the trip . . . but no one else. . . .

It was a crushing disappointment. PJ blinked to hold back tears that were
welling up. Jack! You have to be here! I made a touchdown for you! Please!
He squeezed his eyes shut. How could Jack not be there? All the other
times--while Jack was mad at him, when Jack had playoff games--then he
couldn't come. But now . . . now when there was time, when he was going to
the World Series, when PJ had begged so hard . . . wouldn't he come to
watch his Little Champ? The real Jack would! The Jack who gave me my Safe
At Home book would!

Panic seized him. A terrible thought took control: He's never coming. You
know he isn't! You'll never see him again!

No! With all his strength of mind, PJ fought back the panic. Jack's here!
He is! I just haven't seen him yet. He has to be here. I'll MAKE him be
here!

Because it was so easy, PJ never even realized that he'd shifted from
reality to fantasy. He'd been doing it all his life.

Opening his eyes he searched the stands again to be sure. Suddenly he
stared. Yes! a man was sitting on the top row of the bleachers, up in the
corner! He hadn't been there before, but he was there now. When he saw that
PJ was looking, the tall, rugged figure stood up. Despite the heavy winter
coat he was wearing and the dark glasses, PJ would have recognized him
anywhere. His heart leaped. Jack! Jack had come to his game after all! The
real Jack. The Jack PJ would never stop believing in. He'd come just as PJ
knew he would. An' he must have seen me make my touchdown!

Reaching beneath his shoulder pads, he found Erik's Bhatt chain just above
his breastbone. He pulled it up and out and brought it to his lips. Dear
Bhatt, he prayed, thanks for the help!

Almost crying with happiness and relief, PJ was on the verge of saying
something to Erik when he noticed his roommate frowning at him. "PJ, are
you okay?"

"Fine. I'm fine, Erik." With an effort, PJ forced a smile. "Everything's
great. It's all okay now."

"What were you looking at? It's like you saw a ghost or something!"

Just in time, PJ remembered that Jack had to be--what was that word one of
those detective novels used?--incognito. This visit had to be secret! No
one must know, not even Erik. He shook his head. "Nah. It was nothing. Like
I said, everything's just fine now." An' it was, it was! But from somewhere
below consciousness caution warned, Tell no one what you see. Just like you
don't let anyone hear you talking to imaginary friends. They'll send you
back to that place . . . back to see the old lady. . . .

"Beautiful job, PJ!" Suddenly Coach Lewis was giving his shoulders a
hug. PJ smiled up at him. Being praised by his coach was almost as good as
hearing it from Jack. Matthew, as always, was right behind his mentor,
looking awfully like he wanted to give PJ a hug himself.

Phil led PJ over to the bench so they could sit down. "Man, nice
touchdown," he said. Erik and Brian settled on one side of PJ, Phil on the
other. "Man, that was nice, PJ," Brian echoed. "I knew you could do it." PJ
took a quick look over his shoulder to be sure Jack was still there. He
was. Up in the corner, at the top of the bleachers. He seemed to grin at
PJ, and PJ gave him a very slight nod in return before turning back to the
field. His heart was pounding. This was a great day in his life! Jack had
come to see him at last! He had believed, and it had all come true. He
looked at his roommate. He was so lucky to have such a good friend. "Erik,
he said in a voice choked with emotion, "I'm really glad you're my buddy."

Erik gave him another startled look. "Me too, PJ."

PJ turned to watch the extra-point try. He seemed very happy, so Erik
shrugged and turned back to watch, too. The attempt was good. The first
quarter ended with Gordonsville ahead 7-0.

In the second quarter, Foxton started a long drive of their own, hammering
at the Gordonsville defense and completing one shaky pass for a first down
that got them over midfield. But the drive finally stalled out on the
Gordonsville thirty-six when a fourth-down attempt failed. Erik led the
offense out to take over.

The yardage was harder to get now. The other team's linemen and backs were
paying special attention to PJ, recognizing him as a dangerous threat to
run. He found himself being hit on every play, even when he didn't have the
ball. There was an aching in both his side and hip that he willed away by
focusing on his assignments. Fortunately, the end runs and short passes had
stretched the Foxton defense just enough so that he could make some yardage
up the middle. Erik sent him plunging into the line several times, once for
a gain of over ten yards when Jacob managed to take out a middle
linebacker. They got past midfield and moved again into Foxton territory.

Brian finally shuttled into the game at wide receiver, bringing some
suggestions from the sidelines, but Erik, after welcoming their younger
friend to what he called "the dance," shook his head. "They'll be looking
for a pass," he said. "We'll give 'em one. But not to the guy they expect."
He winked at PJ and called the play. Instead of using his regular dummy
phrase "Red-River-2," this time he preceded his call with "Tap-Dance-6,
Tap-Dance-6." It was the signal for PJ to go out of the backfield as a
receiver.

They lined up with Dustin and PJ in the pro-set. On the snap, Erik faked a
handoff to PJ exactly as they had practiced so often, making the fake
deliberately obvious. PJ plunged into the line, ignored by the linebackers
who were going after Erik as he rolled to his right. Ignored too by the
Foxton deep backs all keying on Brian running down the left sideline. PJ
was alone in the middle when Erik's pass came like a bullet straight into
his hands. Tucking the ball into his side, he angled across the field as
defenders, caught by surprise, tried to react. He turned up the far-right
sideline, slipped a tackle by a cornerback, and was only prevented from
scoring by the safety, who pushed him out of bounds on the thirty.

When Foxton called a timeout, PJ heard their coach screaming at his players
over on the sidelines. "I don't think that guy sounds very happy," Erik
remarked.

After the drive resumed, PJ took the ball to the twenty-five on an
end-around, then, on the very next play, he followed a nifty Dustin block
up the middle for a gain of eight. But the gain cost him. He got sandwiched
by two Foxton defenders who drove him down hard into the turf. Fireworks
exploded in his head. As he slowly arose and walked back toward the huddle,
he looked over at the Gordonsville stands, certain of what Jack would tell
him. "Don't let 'em know they got to you, Little Champ! Never say die!" He
began trotting.

Erik called for another pass on the first down, with a signal for PJ to
execute a play-fake. On the snap, PJ pretended to take Erik's handoff, this
time making it look as real as possible. Jacob was in at fullback and PJ
followed him into the line, only to get hit almost immediately, again from
two sides. Once more he saw stars. Stabs of pain shot through his hip as he
was driven to the ground. But the tackling by more than one defender meant
that Foxton had been fooled! Someone from Gordonsville was open!

He heard shouting and noise. Getting to his feet as fast as he could, he
stood for a look. There in the end zone was Brian, smiling happily, the
ball clasped tightly to his chest. Erik had thrown him a perfect pass, and
Gordonsville had scored again! PJ ran over to join the rest of his
teammates who were jumping around Brian in celebration. Erik was giving him
a huge hug. PJ pushed through and pounded the younger boy's shoulder
pads. "Way to go!" he yelled.

Brian refused to part with the ball because it was now his very own
treasured trophy. PJ and Erik escorted him to Coach Lewis, who told Matthew
to give the game officials another ball from the Gordonsville bag. "We'll
keep this one for you," the coach assured him, patting Brian's
back. Producing a magic marker out of his pocket and taking the touchdown
ball, he carefully recorded the date, the teams, and the inscription "First
TD. Great Catch!" Finally he signed his name, after which he gave it to
Erik to sign too.

Brian took back his ball and looked at it very proudly while both Matthew
and Phil admired it over his shoulder. Then Brian gave it to PJ. "You've
gotta sign it, too," he insisted. PJ accepted the magic marker and did just
that. He glanced up where Jack was sitting and saw Jack nod and smile. He
handed the ball to Brian. "Congratulations. Thanks for letting me sign
it. It's a great feeling, isn't it?"

"The best," Brian told him, eyes shining brightly.

One of the assistant coaches took the ball to keep it safe, while the four
boys went back to watching the game. Tommy had missed the extra point, but
PJ thought the score of 13-0 was not too bad against such a tough team.

The rest of that quarter turned into a defensive struggle. Gordonsville had
the ball on two more possessions, and each time PJ made some decent runs,
but Foxton was able to stop both drives with good plays of their own. The
defenders continued to focus on PJ, taking every opportunity to hit him as
hard as they could. He received a few vicious tackles and was thrown to the
ground twice on his right hip, which was beginning to hurt badly. When Erik
let the clock run out on their last possession of the half, PJ had to
concentrate to avoid limping as they left the field. He still didn't want
the coach getting any ideas about taking him out of the game. Not with Jack
in the stands!

All through the closing minutes of the first half, PJ had been checking to
be sure that the figure in the coat and dark glasses was still sitting in
the top row of the Gordonsville bleachers. Now, as they jogged to the
locker room for the break, he checked again. He was sure Jack stood up,
grinned at him, and gave a little nod. More than anything in the world, PJ
wanted to run into the stands and go to where Jack was waiting. But he knew
he must not give their secret away. (PJ knew he was there, but he had an
uneasy feeling that the others might not see him as clearly.) Besides, it
was important that Jack not be recognized! PJ didn't even wave the way Erik
was waving at Bill. Instead, all he did was nod and smile back.

"Who's that you keep looking at?" Phil asked him.

"I'm just saying 'Hi' to Bill," PJ said, and he waved at Erik's
stepfather. "I'm so darn happy he's here!"

Chapter Seventy-Three: The Test

In the locker room, PJ said nothing about his side or his hip. Coach Lewis
might not let me play! I can't let that happen! Not with Jack here! Anyway,
he decided that the hip didn't really hurt that much--at least not enough
to go through all the trouble of un-taping and re-taping his padding. He
rested quietly and drank some Gatorade. When it was time to go back out, he
gritted his teeth, telling himself there was only a little discomfort. It'd
go away after he'd run a few plays.

Back on the sidelines, the first thing he did was check the bleachers for
Jack. Still here? He wasn't sure! Please?. Please, Jack! PJ squeezed his
eyes tightly shut . . . opened them . . . Heart pounding, he looked
again. Yes! There was the shadowy figure in overcoat and dark glasses! PJ
smiled, and then concentrated on warming up for the second half, not caring
about his hip or his side or anything else. Jack's here! Here to watch me!
What else matters! Exalted, he stared across the field at the Foxton team,
feeling sure he could do even better against them once they started to tire
in the latter parts of the game.

When Gordonsville kicked off, PJ watched the ball sail into Foxton
territory where their deep man made a nice catch and galloped all the way
to his own forty-two before being brought down. The stands on the other
side of the field came to life. Cheers followed their offense is it ran
onto the field. "Pretty good return," Erik remarked. "I hope that doesn't
get them all fired up."

But it seemed that it did. Running play followed running play, the Foxton
backs making inroads on the Gordonsville defense. PJ and his friends
watched in dismay as their teammates gave ground before the
onslaught. Foxton reached the thirty, then the twenty, and showed no signs
of slowing down.

"Our guys are getting tired, that's what it is," Erik growled. "That
offensive line's starting to get to them."

"Maybe we can get a turnover," PJ said hopefully. But the Foxton playmakers
held onto the ball and continued to hammer at the Gordonsville
defense. Suddenly, just inside the ten-yard line, everything gave way in a
rush. The Gordonsville line collapsed, a Foxton running back shot through
an enormous hole that opened in front of him, and before anyone could
react, he was over the goal line. The home crowd came to their feet,
cheering madly. Someone fired off a little cannon. There was a blaring of
air horns. Foxton missed the extra point, but they were finally on the
board. The score changed to 13-6.

PJ trotted onto the field to take the kickoff, with Dustin ready to block
or be his back-up on the reception. As they waited, PJ checked to make sure
Jack was watching. He wanted so much to wave just once, but he knew he
mustn't. Jack's presence had to stay secret! But at least he knew that
Jack's eyes were on him.

The kick, when it came, was a short, low one. PJ ran toward it, sprinting
at full speed, gathering the ball in on the forty. Dustin nailed one
incoming would-be tackler, PJ dodged another, and cut past a third with a
quick fake. Angling the long way across the field, he forced the last two
defenders to run parallel to him. They were trying desperately to match his
pace. No way! Energy flowed through PJ like rocket fuel. Take it to the
House! He cut between them, pulled loose from their grasping arms, and in a
blaze of speed streaked into the end zone. Wild cheering erupted from the
Gordonsville sideline!

PJ held the ball up in triumph and slowed, turning as soon as he could to
look toward the stands. He saw Bill waving, yelling with excitement. Above
him, at the top of the bleachers, Jack's unmistakable figure stood outlined
against the gray sky. Keeping the ball held high, PJ waved with his other
arm. He made it look as though he was waving at Bill, but Jack would know
who he was really signaling. After pulling Erik's chain out from under his
shoulder pads, he kissed it and as he trotted up the sideline to the bench,
he thought he saw Jack grin and nod. PJ had never felt so happy in his
life!

The team crowded around him, Matthew grinning with excitement, Brian, Erik,
and Phil pounding him on the back. Coach Lewis patted his helmet as he
passed and yelled, "Beautiful run, PJ!" Escorted by his friends, he sat
down and took off his helmet to watch the extra point. Tommy's kick was
good! Now Gordonsville led 20-6. A quick look over his shoulder showed that
Bill was smiling and waving again. PJ waved back and was certain that on
the bench above Bill, a figure sitting quietly and wearing dark glasses
sent a barely perceptible nod in PJ's direction--and a smile, too!

PJ's stunning run had silenced the other stands and re-energized the
Gordonsville defense. They put up a wall out on the field, forcing Foxton
to punt after getting just one first down. Once again, PJ found himself
deep, at his own twenty-five, waiting for the ball. But the kick was
another short one. He ran forward at full speed to take it, and moved
behind his blockers. This time, however, the defenders were more wary of
him and didn't over-commit as they clearly had before. PJ cut to the
sideline, turned upfield, and made about ten yards before he was hit by a
crowd of defenders. One of them grabbed his facemask, yanking his head
painfully to one side. Another delivered a smashing blow to his ribs,
driving him out of bounds where he was slammed to the ground and buried
under a pile of bodies. His neck was wrenched sideways. He was barely able
to breathe. But even worse, as he struggled under the tangle of players,
someone drove the point of a knee hard into his tender hip. Fire shot
through his entire leg. As he tried to get up, a voice hissed, "Don't try
running back any more, you little fucker!" PJ felt sure it was the kid who
had just sucker-punched him in the ribs, the same linebacker who'd cussed
him out in the first half. No one from the other team helped him as he rose
painfully to his feet. He gritted his teeth and jogged back to his huddle
while trying his best not to favor his leg. It felt awful, but it'd been
worse the previous week. Jack's here! He's watching! PJ would let nothing
take him out of the game!

Erik greeted him as he reached the huddle. "You okay?" PJ just nodded, his
mind focused on ignoring the pain and going on. He wanted to look into the
stands to be sure Jack was still there, but there wasn't any time. Erik was
already calling the play, a sweep to the left side with PJ's number. On the
snap, he took the hand-off and raced to the outside. His right leg nearly
buckled when he made the cut, but he willed himself to ignore it and
powered forward. Driving a shoulder into one tackler, he sped away from
another before being brought down. After jumping up quickly, he forced
aside any thought of pain and trotted back to the huddle without favoring
his injury.

Time blurred. The plays all seemed to run together as Erik marched them
down the field. PJ lost track of the yardage, the time, even the score as
he concentrated on carrying out the assignments his friend called for. What
did pain in his hip matter? Jack was in the stands, watching. I'm his
Little Champ. He's counting on me to make him proud!

Brian was rotating in and out of the game at wide receiver, and Erik winged
a pass to him inside the other team's twenty-yard line. Foxton's defense
was tiring! PJ could feel it! He caught Erik's eye in the
huddle. "Dawn-Rider" he said quietly. Erik nodded, and barked out,
"Dawn-Rider-7, Dawn-Rider-7, Whopper-63-Gold, Whopper-63-Gold, on Three,
Break!" Brian looked up, eyes gleaming in anticipation. It was the code for
the option sweep, coming his way! PJ lined up in the tailback spot, body
tingling with equal anticipation. He had no idea what down it was and
didn't care. Only one thing was important: lead Erik out to the side and
either block for him or take the ball and run with it until he was stopped!
Dimly he was aware that his leg was still hurting. The crowd was chanting
something. He swept it all aside as Erik stepped to the line.

"H-u-t, H-u-t, Hut!" Erik yelled. The center snapped the ball into his
hands.

Like a machine, PJ turned and cut to the side, accelerating with all his
strength. He knew Erik, still holding the ball, would be right alongside
him. They had run the play time-after-time in their secret practices. Brian
was racing downfield, pulling defensive backs with him. Out of the corner
of his eye, he saw linebackers freeze in confusion! Was Erik rolling out to
pass? Was he keeping the ball to run with it? Now the defenders
committed. Shoulder lowered, a linebacker targeted PJ. No way was Foxton
allowing him to take a lateral and score a third time!

Got you, sucker! PJ thought. Lowering his own shoulder, he slammed into the
Foxton player with every bit of his momentum and strength. The collision
sent the older boy flying backward with both of them tumbling to the
ground. PJ saw stars, but he willed himself to stand back up, trying to
focus through the tunnel vision of his helmet. Erik might need him! But his
roommate had already swept by, speeding past the would-be tacklers. PJ
watched as Brian threw a block in front of him and Erik straight-armed the
corner safety, racing into the end zone with half the Foxton team in futile
pursuit.

"Yee-ess-sss!!!" PJ yelled. "Erii-iikk-kkk!!!"

Erik held the ball up in his own victory salute, while PJ ran towards him,
whooping, cheering, at the same time trying to spot Jack in the
stands. Sweat was burning his eyes, but he didn't need to see clearly to
make out the tall, rangy figure at the top of the bleachers, looking
exactly as he did in the poster, smiling down proudly at his Little Champ.

"Anything's possible, Jack!" PJ yelled, his voice lost in the noise of his
cheering teammates. Brian and the rest were there celebrating, and now Erik
threw the ball into the air, running to greet him. They hugged and trotted
together off the field with Brian alongside. Coach Lewis, Matthew, and the
whole team were waiting on the sidelines. The coach gave both PJ and Erik
back-slaps and stood looking at the two of them with a grin on his
face. "Where the hell did that play come from?"

Both boys smiled sheepishly. "It's a little something PJ and I saved for an
emergency," Erik told him. "We thought it might surprise the defense a
little."

"Well it sure surprised me," the coach said. "And you faked that other team
right out of their socks. I bet they're still trying to figure out what
happened. Go sit down, you guys. Take a rest." Phil and Brian went with
them to the bench. PJ was anxious to rest his leg, but before he sat down,
he took another quick look at the stands. The figure in the overcoat was
there in the top corner, dark glasses turned toward him. PJ smiled and then
took a seat, stretching his leg out with a sigh. The hip was throbbing
painfully, but he didn't care. There was a cheer from the opposite stands
as the extra point attempt was blocked. "Boy, that other team is pissed,"
Brian said. "I think you made them mad." Erik just grunted, "Maybe so, but
it's now 26 to 6. They'll have trouble catching up. I bet they didn't
expect the game to be like this!"

However, Foxton was not beaten yet. One of their backs took the
Gordonsville kickoff and returned the ball to the thirty-seven-yard
line. Then their offense charged out, clearly determined to score. Also, it
was the Gordonsville defense's time to tire. They'd stopped the previous
drive, but now the opposing line was coming at them again harder than ever,
and they began to give way before it. PJ, his friends, and the rest of the
team yelled encouragement from the sideline, but when the third quarter
ended, their opponents were inside the Gordonsville ten. A few plays later,
they pushed their way over the goal line. An accurate kick for an extra
point made the score 26-13.

PJ's heart beat faster as he and Dustin went back on the field to receive
the kickoff. The other team had deliberately attempted to hurt him on his
last runback, and he expected them to try again. He would just have to do
the best he could to protect himself. The ball had to be caught and
returned. He looked once again to the bleachers. Is that Jack? Yes! Jack's
standing up to watch the kickoff! How many times has Jack told me that I
must never turn away from a challenge? That I must find the courage to face
my fear and master it! PJ called upon on all his determination. Jack was
watching! He would rather die than let him down! Nervously rubbing his
hands together, he waited for the Foxton kicker to tee up the ball. The
best way to get back at the other team for trying to hurt him was to make
another good runback--and that's just what he intended to do!

The kicking team ran forward as the football rocketed into the air. Once
again it was a low, tumbling kick. PJ took it on the bounce at the
twenty-seven and started running. But there'd been no opportunity for
Dustin or the rest of his blockers to form a wall. They were just taking
out whatever defenders came their way. PJ angled toward what looked like a
hole and raced up the field. He spun away from one tackler, hurdled over
another, crossed midfield . . . and ran smack into a group of the Foxton
players who'd been hanging back, waiting for him. They were spread out
ahead with no way to get around them.

PJ did his best. He faked angling to the sideline and tried to cut through,
straight-arming the closest defender and driving forward. Then he was hit
from both sides and from behind as well. He blacked out when his body was
slammed into the ground, buried under tacklers. Although unconscious only
momentarily, he was dazed and confused. Frantically he struggled to get
back the breath that'd been knocked out of him. He fought to stand, but his
arms and legs wouldn't obey him. He sensed a roaring in his ears. He had no
idea where he was, only that there was a tremendously urgent need for him
to get to his feet. There was something he had to do for Jack. Jack's
depending on me! He flopped around, and then with an immense effort of
will, somehow got to all fours . . . then to one knee. . . Jack, he
thought. His head began to clear. The game! He was on the field. The
officials were signaling. He mustn't let anyone know he'd been hurt. He
kept struggling to rise, but his head was spinning. Erik. Where was Erik?

Someone was next to him, kneeling beside him, calling to him. Erik? It was
his roommate! He put his hand on the ground to steady himself because he
almost fell over again. His head was clearing now. He could hear voices. He
looked at his best friend. "Erik," he pleaded. "Erik, please help me."

"I'm right here, PJ," Erik steadied him. "I'm right here. You're gonna be
okay. Put your hand on me. I'll help you up. See? Everything's gonna be
fine." Erik placed PJ's arm around his neck and pulled him up onto his
feet. PJ staggered for a second and then sagged against his friend, leaning
on him heavily. A Foxton assistant coach was on the other side of them. PJ
could not remember seeing him come onto the field. "Are you okay?" the
coach asked.

PJ nodded, but his head was spinning. "I just need to get my breath," he
said.

As Erik helped him to the sideline, he could hear clapping from the
stands. Coach Lewis came over. "What happened?" he asked the other
coach. The man answered, "I think he just got the wind knocked out of him."

"Go sit down for awhile, PJ," Coach Lewis told him. Brian and Phil were
standing next to him now. Erik looked at PJ anxiously. "You sure you're
okay?"

"I'm sure," PJ said, nodding. "You go ahead."

"I've got him," Phil told the others.

Erik and Brian went back out on the field while Phil led PJ to the bench so
he could sit down. PJ tried to relax. Now that he could think clearly
again, he was aware of excruciating pain in both his side and
back. Suddenly, everything came back with a rush. Jack! Jack's here! What
am I doing on the sidelines? Gotta get back in the game! "I've got to go
back in," he muttered.

He stood up, was dizzy, and almost fell when he tried to take a step. Phil
pulled him back onto the bench before anyone could see. "Cut it out, PJ!"
he ordered. "You gotta rest for awhile. You got hit really hard. I think
they did it on purpose. They had three really big guys they kept back
waiting for you. Just sit down for now."

"All right, Phil." PJ waited a moment for his head to stop whirling, and
turned for a quick look into the stands.

Jack was not there!

He looked around frantically but he couldn't find the tall figure in the
coat and dark glasses. He found Bill all right. Bill was looking down at
him, perhaps in concern. PJ waved and nodded to show that he was all right.

But there was no sign of Jack anywhere.

PJ's heart sank. Had Jack left in disgust because he had let himself be
taken out of the game? Had he decided once and for all that PJ wasn't
worthy of his time or attention. The same as his parents! He began to feel
panicky. Jack just couldn't do that. He just couldn't!

I won't cry, he thought. I won't! Not with Phil right here. Jack's testing
me. He must be. He's waiting to see what I'll do.

The game. What's happening in the game? He looked out on the
field. Gordonsville was on the Foxton twenty-eight. "What down is it?" he
asked Phil.

"Third and six," Phil answered. "I think Erik's gonna pass." Phil was
right. Erik took the snap and faded back, looking downfield. But Brian and
the other receivers were covered. He scrambled out of the pocket and
managed to get a few yards, but not enough for the first down. The offense
trotted off and Coach Lewis sent Kip in to attempt a field-goal. The try
was almost a disaster. The snap from center was way off. Luckily, Erik was
acting as the holder. He managed to get to the ball and fall on it before
any defender could pick it up and take off. The other team took possession.

Erik came back to the sideline accompanied by Jacob and Nolan. When all
three sat down heavily next to PJ, Jacob asked, "How ya' doin'?"

"I'm okay. But guys, I've gotta get back in the game!"

"Yeah," Erik said, "we need you. They're really starting to play dirty out
there. I couldn't get anything goin'."

"I'm gettin' finger-poked in the eye practic'ly every play," Nolan
complained.

Brian had plopped down next to Phil. Now he leaned over and said, "I keep
gettin' tripped when I go out on my patterns. And the officials don't do
nothin'."

"Maybe they think the wrong team's winning," Erik dryly remarked. "PJ, are
you sure you're OK? Let me see you walk around." Gritting his teeth, PJ got
up, willed himself not to stagger, and took some steps back and forth in
front of the bench. His sides and back ached, but he decided the pain was
useful for keeping his head clear. "I'm gonna see Coach," he said.

Careful to appear as normal as possible, he walked over to where Coach
Lewis was standing with Matthew on the sideline. The red-head gave PJ a
concerned look as he approached. PJ waited until the play on the field was
over before pulling at the young coach's arm to get his attention. When the
man saw who it was, he asked, "How are you feeling, PJ?"

"I'm okay. Coach, can I go back in the game? Please? I . . ."

But Coach Lewis was shaking his head before PJ could finish. "I don't
know. That was a pretty big hit you took. I think maybe you've done enough
for us today."

"Coach, I've just got to get back in," PJ pleaded
desperately. "Please. It's important."

"We'll see, PJ. Right now you just rest. We'll see how things go."

PJ went back to where his friends were sitting, the thoughts in his head
tumbling about frantically. Somehow I've gotta get back into the game!

"What did he say?" Erik asked.

"He's going to wait and see." PJ looked up into the stands. There was still
no sign of Jack. He sat down on the bench, but got up again almost
immediately.

"Take it easy," Erik told him. "Try to rest." But PJ shook his head and
walked up and down, stretching his leg. Every time he rested, it stiffened
up on him. He did some basic warming-up exercises to stay loose. I've gotta
go back in, I've just gotta, he kept telling himself. He told me to never
say die! I can't let Jack down!

Out on the field, the Foxton team was driving into Gordonsville territory,
their offense seeming even stronger as the players on defense
tired. "They're gonna score again," PJ said in dismay.

"Looks like it," Erik agreed. "We've gotta keep holding them off."

Just then the Foxton stands broke into wild cheers as their ball carrier
dashed into the clear for a big gain. The excited offensive players, after
a quick huddle, tried another running play. The surge gashed a huge hole in
the Gordonsville defense and gained even more yardage. Two downs later,
Foxton scored on a wobbly pass that took everyone in the secondary
completely by surprise! Once again the extra point was good, and the score
changed: 26-20. The Gordonsville lead was fading fast!

Again PJ went to Coach Lewis and begged to be put into the game. "Coach, I
feel fine," he pleaded.

The reply was another shake of the head. "I don't think so, PJ."

"Coach, please let me tell you something." PJ stepped closer. "You've got
to promise not to tell anyone!"

"What?" Coach Lewis was beginning to look annoyed.

After checking to be sure no one else was nearby, and lowering his voice so
that Matthew would hot overhear him, PJ whispered, "Jack Canon's here! He
made a special trip to see me play. No one's supposed to know. It's a
secret. He doesn't want to be recognized. But he's here to see me! Please,
Coach. Please let me play."

Feeling guilty that he might have misjudged PJ, Coach Lewis looked down at
his sincere face and stroked the boy's soft, blonde hair. "All right. I
understand how much it means to you. Just wait."

PJ stepped back a few paces, but didn't return to the bench. Instead, he
remained right there on the sideline because he didn't want Coach Lewis to
forget about him. Out on the field, Dustin and Phil, now substituting for
him on special teams, got ready to accept the kickoff. PJ was relieved to
see Dustin making sure Phil was only playing as his back-up. He didn't want
Phil trying a return and getting hurt. After Dustin took the kick and
brought it back to the thirty-four-yard line, Phil returned to the sideline
looking none the worse for wear. Erik led the offense onto the field,
giving an inquiring look at PJ as he went by. PJ pointed at Coach Lewis,
gave Erik a thumbs-up, and yelled, "He says maybe later!"

The defense for Foxton Prep charged onto the field all fired up, knowing
that if they stopped Gordonsville and regained possession of the ball, a
touchdown and an extra point would probably win them the game. They swarmed
in on Erik as he tried to get things started. The first play from scrimmage
resulted in the loss of a yard as Sandy, in for PJ at tailback and favoring
his taped ankle, was piled up in the line. Erik tried to pass on second
down and was nearly sacked. He scrambled for a short gain, but Gordonsville
still had eight yards to go for the first down. Scenting blood, the crowd
in the Foxton stands across the field started to chant, "We will, We will,
Rock you!"

PJ tugged on his coach's arm. "Please, Coach! Please! Erik needs me out
there."

"All right," Coach Lewis started to say, "but be . . ."

PJ wasn't waiting. He sprinted onto the field, pulling on his helmet as he
went. There was a cheer from his teammates when they saw him coming. Sandy
gave him a reluctant fist-tap and headed for the sideline. Over among the
defense, some players were pointing at him, but PJ had no time to be
nervous or to even think. He was no longer aware of the pain in his
body. He was back in the game! That was all that counted. He was doing what
he knew Jack wanted him to do. He stared at Erik, waiting for his call in
the huddle.

"We gotta get this," Erik told him. "We can't let 'em have the ball!"  PJ
nodded and Erik's eyes flashed. He called for the quarterback option play,
this time to the left side.

PJ lined up in the "I" formation, heart pounding rapidly. This has to work,
he thought. Erik took the snap and rolled out, with PJ racing two steps
ahead of him. The defense, in its eagerness, was blitzing and almost got
into the backfield fast enough to break up the play. But Erik and PJ were
too quick. As a defender reached in to grab him, Erik flipped the ball out
to PJ, who took it around the end and shot down the sideline. Those
defenders who might've stopped him early on were left behind. He gained
thirteen yards before one of the cornerbacks grabbed his facemask, twisted
his head, and drove him out of bounds. Another player slammed into PJ with
a late hit that made him see flashes of white light when he was smacked to
the ground. He rolled and bounced up quickly so that he wouldn't appear to
be feeling the contact.

"Y'er gonna be sorry you ever came back into this game, you little shit,"
the second boy growled at PJ. A familiar voice! Sure enough, he found
himself looking right into the scowling face of the Foxton linebacker who'd
sucker-punched him before. The asshole! Ignoring the older boy, PJ ran back
to his teammates. This time the fouls had been so obvious that the
officials couldn't ignore them. There were two yellow flags on the field.

While the penalty was marked off, PJ used the time to let his head
clear. He'd done it! They still had the ball and it was a first down! He
looked over at the stands. Was that a tall figure wearing dark glasses
standing on the top step of the bleachers? Jack? It was! Jack's here again,
watching me! I've passed the test!

He wanted to shout for joy! What did it matter how he felt or what the
other team did? What did it matter, even, who won the game? The only
important thing was that Jack loved him and was proud of him! He was Jack's
Little Champ! He always would be! How could anything in the world be more
wonderful than that?"

Bill's waving, PJ!" Erik called, pointing. And PJ waved back, but he was
looking past Erik's stepdad to what he was darn sure was a tall shadowy
figure standing beyond him at the top of the bleachers.

Chapter Seventy-Four: Injury

Just after the referees threw their flags, Coach Lewis had called a
time-out. He gave the boys a short pep talk which PJ could barely pay
attention to, so painful were his neck, ribs, and thigh all at the same
time. He tried his best to pretend he was listening, though that was more
than Erik and Jacob did. They were whispering to each other about
something. Some special strategy? PJ saw them without actually seeing
them. Jack's with me again! It was all he could think about. He's here! He
is! I know it's real. Nothing takes me out of this game. Nothing!

He played the rest of that drive in a daze, with absolutely no idea where
they were on the field, or even what down it was. All that mattered was
that Jack was watching and that he was Jack's Little Champ. Make him proud!
Make him proud! Again and again he took Erik's handoffs and charged
recklessly into the line, breaking tackles and churning forward for
yardage. The Foxton team did everything they could to stop him or take him
out of the game, sending in their toughest players to gang-tackle
him. Nothing worked. When their big players blitzed up the middle, Erik
sent PJ around the end. When the defense spread out to stop the sweep, Erik
threw a pass to PJ coming out of the backfield. They may as well have tried
to catch a shadow!

He was surprised when there was no sign of that Foxton linebacker. At one
point he'd stumbled around a pile of players which he was sure included his
roommate. That was strange since Erik would usually have been behind
him. And hadn't it been Jacob who had handed the ball off to him? Things
were getting confusing. Everything had become pretty much of a blur.

Gimme the ball . . . Gimme the ball . . .Jack's here! Jack's watching! PJ
could see him, standing, silhouetted against the sky up in the top corner
of the stands. Nothing can stop me. Nothing! He was playing beyond and
almost outside himself, past pain and fatigue. On every play he felt that
he had more and more strength. The defense was tiring! He was smashing
through them! When he finally scored again, he was just dimly aware of it,
so far had he gone into his own little world. Only when Erik was hugging
him and pounding his shoulders did he realize he was standing in the end
zone with the ball. He held it up so Jack could see it.

I found the courage to do it, Jack. I found it, because you gave it to me!

He limped to the sideline. Was that Erik helping him? Of course it
was. Erik was always with him. Just like Jack. Heart singing with joy, PJ
wanted to run to find Jack, not caring anymore about keeping his presence a
secret! But for some reason his legs were not working right. Nearing the
bench, he stumbled and almost fell. Erik grabbed him; then Phil and Brian
were helping him sit down as Erik knelt in front.

"PJ, PJ!"

Erik was calling. PJ looked at him quizzically. What's Erik worried about?
Everything's fine. Jack's proud of me. Erik's face was white, and when his
friend's hand came away from touching him, it was red. PJ noted the
contrast with vague interest. He tried to turn so he could look for
Jack. His neck hurt too much to do it, but there was no need to see Jack to
know that he was there. Besides, his vision was a little blurry now. He
might not have been able to see Jack anyway.

He put a hand up to rub his eyes but it didn't seem to help. His hand was
bloody when it came away. He wiped it on his pants. Was Phil saying
something? PJ didn't quite catch it. The younger boy looked frightened and
PJ leaned forward to try to hear better. Phil doesn't need to be scared of
anything. Me and Erik will never let anyone hurt our little brother.

He swayed, but Phil caught him before he fell. And now here was Erik. Erik
was holding him. Erik was always there when he needed him. Good ol' Erik!
He loved Erik almost as much as he loved Jack. He grabbed his roommate's
arm to keep from falling over. He wanted to tell him about Jack, but it had
to wait. There was blood dripping on Erik's sleeve.

Some adult showed up. Had Erik brought him? Some man he didn't
know. Probably a trainer, and it was time to have his whirlpool
treatment. But his hip felt numb. He felt numb all over. The trainer put
something icy cold on his face and the shock of it made him start. Erik
supported him with an arm around the shoulders and lowered him onto his
back so that he was lying down on the bench. The trainer and Phil helped
lift his legs up.

PJ could taste the coppery flavor of blood in the back of his
throat. Slowly the sounds around him returned to normal and his vision
stopped blurring. The compress on his face was so cold it was almost
painful. "That's freezing," he mumbled. His jaw hurt. He raised one hand
and pushed weakly at the thing the trainer was holding under his nose.

Erik took a deep breath, a huge sigh of relief. "Jeez, PJ, you scared me
back there! Don't do that!"

When PJ reached for the compress again, Erik pushed his hand away. "Leave
it. This is an ice pack. It's supposed to be cold. You know--Eye, Cee, Eee
spells 'cold'!" PJ tried to grin and Erik smiled with him.

"Is that a little better now, PJ?" the man asked.

"Yeah, I think so." PJ was trying to make sense of things. "What happened?"

Erik rubbed his forehead and shook his head. "I think someone either
elbowed you on the tackle or kicked you in the face while you were
down. You seemed OK when we came off the field. You were a little strange
on that long drive, but I thought you were all right. Then all of a sudden
you were acting real weird and there was blood coming out of your nose and
mouth. I had to help you to the bench. I kept calling and you just stared
and wouldn't answer. It scared me!"

"I'm sorry, Erik."

His roommate patted his arm. "Just don't ever do it again." Erik was trying
his best to sound stern. Brian and Phil were on either side of him, still
looking scared.

"He's going to be all right now," the trainer assured everyone.

Erik got up. "I'm gonna check in with Coach. You just stay here until I get
back."

"Are we winning?" PJ asked.

Erik grinned. "Yeah. Tommy's mad at himself 'cause he missed the extra
point again, but your last touchdown put us up 32-20.  We're winning. And
there's only a minute left. So I don't think Foxton's gonna catch up. Just
take it easy now." He went off and PJ closed his eyes. Now that he was
starting to relax, he realized that he hurt all over. There was a cut on
the inside of his mouth that stung and his tongue felt like he'd bitten it.

"Hold still, PJ. I'm going to change this ice pack." It was the man's
voice. There was a momentary cessation of cold on PJ's face, and then a
numbing shock as a fresh pack went on. "Just hold that on him," the trainer
told Phil. "I'll be back to check in a little bit after I talk with your
coach."

PJ heard the man leave. He opened his eyes and saw Phil leaning over,
holding the pack in place. His young friend was frowning in concentration
and had such a serious expression. "Are you OK, Phil?" PJ asked. "They
didn't hurt you on any of Dustin's runbacks, did they?"

Phil shook his head. "I'm all right. They weren't trying to get me the way
they were him and you. But you had a great touchdown, PJ! I don't see how
you got it!"

"I don't even remember it," PJ said.

Brian came running up and knelt by PJ's head. "Erik says not to worry. Our
defense is holding and the clock's running out."

"All right!" PJ exclaimed weakly. "I guess we're not in a tie for first
anymore with these guys! Hey Brian, can you see Bill up in the stands?"

"You mean Erik's stepdad? Yeah, I see him."

"Look up at the corner behind him and tell me if you see a big guy that's
wearing dark glasses."

Brian hesitated, looking. "All I see is Bill, PJ."

"OK, thanks." PJ was disappointed. More than anything he would've liked to
talk to Jack after the game. But he understood. Jack's visit had to be
secret. It was enough that he'd come! Besides, he knew what Jack would've
said. He could close his eyes and almost feel Jack's hand on his shoulder,
almost hear the strong, deep voice saying, "I'm proud of you, Little
Champ. So very proud of you."

Brian and Phil stayed with PJ while the final minutes ticked off. Once the
game ended, Erik returned with both Coach Lewis and the trainer man who had
been giving PJ the ice packs. The young coach was looking very
concerned. "PJ!" He knelt by the boy. "Erik says you were banged up on one
of those last plays! What the heck went on out there?"

"I think it's just cuts and bruises," the other man was telling him. "But
we ought to make sure. I've already been on the radio to the
infirmary. Doc'll meet us at the gym. He stands by for us at these games
and he's used to this."

Coach Lewis straightened up and slammed his fist against a palm. "I should
never have let him talk me into?!" He looked at Erik. "We need to get PJ
over to the gym."

"We'll all stay with him, Coach," Erik said, looking at Brian and Phil.

"Just take your time," the other man told them. "There's no rush." He held
up a walkie-talkie.  "I'll let Doc know you're on your way."

Placing an arm around PJ's shoulders, Erik helped him sit up. PJ's head
swam for a second and then tread water. "Wow!" He smiled at Erik and then,
with an effort, got unsteadily to his feet and leaned against his
roommate. It felt like every muscle in his body was sore. "Oh boy! Don't
let go of me, Erik."

"I've got you," Erik assured him. "Keep leaning on me."

PJ took a few tentative steps with Erik helping him, and found that once he
got started, it was not too bad. Keeping one hand on his roommate to steady
himself, he was eventually able to make progress toward the sports complex
buildings. As they went by the stands, Bill joined them. PJ had hoped that
Jack might be with him, but there'd been no sign of Jack since the end of
the game, and PJ decided he'd quietly left the field.

"PJ, are you alright?" Bill was all over them as soon as he saw their
little procession. "What happened out there?"

"Someone punched and kicked him," Erik told his stepfather, and Phil added,
"Those Foxton guys were going after him all through that second half." Bill
was staring angrily at the blood on PJ's and Erik's uniforms. "Looks like
you fellows were in a war!"

"I had a nosebleed," PJ explained.

"That Foxton team was playing kind of dirty, Dad," Erik said. "They tried
to get me a few times too. They were poking fingers in the eyes of our
linemen and kept tripping Brian."

"I kicked one guy who was doing it in the balls," Brian smugly told
them. "He stopped after that."

To PJ's amusement, Bill pretended to be shocked by this, but a few moments
later his arms were around both Brian and Phil giving them a little
hug. "You both were just great today. I'll call your dads as soon as I can
to tell them how well you did."

"I'm gonna write mine as soon as we get home," Phil said. "Me, too," Brian
added.

"I know they'll want to hear from you," Bill told them. He looked at PJ and
Erik. "Well, I suppose you two know that you were just magnificent
today. PJ!" He patted the boy's shoulder pads. "That run-back you did
. . . it was terrific! I wish Jack could have seen it. I know he would have
been so proud of you."

PJ smiled happily. He knew that Jack was proud of him. But he also knew
where the credit for their victory should go. "Erik won the game for us,"
he assured Bill. "He was the greatest! Without him calling the plays,
scrambling for all those first downs, and throwing perfect passes, Foxton
would've buried us."

"Come on, PJ," Erik said, blushing. "I didn't do that much."

Phil gave Erik a punch on the arm. "There you go again, Mr. Modest!" He
looked up at Bill. "PJ's right. Erik's the one who kept us all going. He's
a primo quarterback!"

Bill smiled at his stepson, eyes shining with pride, and Erik blushed even
more deeply. He glanced around at the others who were all grinning at
him. "Thanks," he told Phil awkwardly. Then he put his arm around PJ's
waist. "Come on, PJ. We need to get you to this doctor."

"I'm going to talk with your coach," Bill told them as they were
leaving. "There's something wrong with the officiating if the other team
can go after a player the way they did to PJ!"

The four boys started off. PJ's head was getting clearer by the minute,
though he still kept a hand on Erik's shoulder just in case of another
surprise dizzy spell. When they got to the gym, a tall, thin elderly man
dressed in coat and tie introduced himself as the Foxton Prep physician. He
led them into a taping room where there was a long table and told PJ to get
undressed and climb up on it.

Erik helped PJ remove his cleats, uniform shirt, shoulder pads, and
pants. He lay there naked except for his athletic socks, jockstrap, and
bandaging. "I told you we'd have trouble with this," Erik said as he rolled
PJ on his side and pulled the wide adhesive tape off his roommate's rear
end.

"Ouch!"

"Hold still, PJ." With Phil giving occasional help, Erik and Brian
carefully peeled the rest of the tape off PJ's hips. "Hey," Erik said,
chuckling when PJ yelped again, "hey, at least that pad stayed on during
the whole game." Then he turned to the doctor. "It's mainly his hip. It got
hurt in a game last week. An' then today he got kicked in the mouth and
punched in the side."

"Humph," the elderly man said, "let's take a look." He flashed a light in
PJ's eyes, held up fingers for him to count, and then ordered an "open
wide." Using the light, he examined the cut in PJ's mouth. Grunting as if
satisfied, he next probed the boy's ribs with his fingers. PJ winced in
pain and the doctor nodded. "Took a beating out there, didn't you, kiddo!
Slip that jock down for me. I need to check you everywhere."

PJ had been dreading that. He tensed and shot a glance at the other three
boys. His face flushed red. He did as he was told. Or rather, Erik
did. Erik had to pull the jock and cup down for him.

As if reading his mind, the old doctor nodded in understanding. "Don't be
embarrassed, son. You've got nothing down there I haven't seen a million
times. And judging by looks, I'd say you've got nothing to be ashamed of."
At this, Brian and Phil giggled, but PJ felt a mild flutter of panic. It
was just like Chicago! That hospital all over again! But here, in a strange
place, this man he'd never laid eyes on before was staring at his private
parts, his penis! So were Brian and Phil, and Phil was smirking!

It was Erik who came to the rescue. Not only had he seen PJ naked more
times than he could count, he'd also guessed what PJ was thinking. Noticing
his roommate's obvious distress, and after the doctor had completed a brief
poking around PJ's groin, he quickly draped a towel over PJ's
middle. Instantly, PJ felt "safe" again. Erik, he mused. He's always there
for me! He was there for me on the field. He found that trainer guy to help
me. Erik wants us to win a Championship! I've got to get it for him!

After more prodding around the rest of PJ's body, the elderly man finally
said, "Nothing bent or broken, son. But you'll be sore for awhile. I want
you to use these crutches until your hip feels better. Take 'em with
you. Your school can send them back later. Go take your shower. Run some
hot water on that hip!"

PJ got down off the table gingerly, keeping the towel around him, and
limped into the showers. Once Eric assured Brian and Phil that he would
handle things, they took their own showers and left. For his part, PJ
soaked for a long time in the hot water, with Erik staying close by,
keeping a protective eye on him. While they were getting dressed, he turned
and looked at Erik. The two boys stared at each other in silence until PJ
said, "Erik . . . Erik, thanks. . . . You know what for."

"You're my roommate, you're my best friend, and you're my brother," Erik
told him quietly.

"Me, too." PJ held out his fist. Erik gently placed his next to it.

This moment of heartfelt emotion had them both feeling self-conscious. Erik
lightened the mood with teasing sarcasm. "Think you can make it to the bus
on those crutches or should I go tell Coach to send a wheelchair?"

PJ grinned at him. "I'll be all right as long as you're with me. And if I
don't try to move too fast."

They went together, with PJ hobbling along the best he could. Outside, the
team was clustered around the bus. Bill was over talking with the
Gordonsville coaches, but when he spotted the two boys, he hurried to them.

"Say, listen to what I found out! Your coach has been on the phone. Perry
lost to Fieldstone today. You guys are now in a tie for first with just one
other team!"

The two boys looked at each other. "Travis' team," PJ said. Franklyn Prep!

"Don't you play them last?" Bill said. "That's the Homecoming game, isn't
it?"

Both boys nodded. "They must have won today," Erik said. "Who did they
beat?"

PJ thought for a moment. "Essex. That's the school that beat us in our last
baseball game. We play them next week."

"That's right!" Erik told him. "Travis' school is a week ahead of us on the
schedule. They lost to this team last week."

"If we win our next two games and they beat Barton, then the game we'll
play at Homecoming will be for the Championship," PJ said with suppressed
excitement.

"And they'll have a bye-week right before it to get ready," Erik reminded
him.

"These next few games are going to be real important," Bill said. "I better
get your cheering section organized!"

"We need all the help you can get us, Dad," Erik agreed. "Neither one of
those teams is easy."

They picked up their bags, ready to board the bus, and Bill put his arms
around both their shoulders. "PJ," he said, "please take care of yourself
this week. Get all ready for that Essex game. And when you write Jack, I
want you to tell him I wish him all the best for the World Series. No one
deserves to win more than he does!"

"I will," PJ promised.

Once Bill had given him a farewell hug, PJ climbed stiffly onto the bus
because he knew that Bill would want some time alone with Erik. Moving
awkwardly, he hobbled down the aisle to where Brian and Phil were saving
seats for them. He pushed his bag and the crutches into the rack overhead
and settled down by the window, trying to find a comfortable
position. Outside, he could see Bill kneeling with his arm around Erik,
talking privately to him. His roommate was smiling and nodding
sheepishly. He looked very happy.

With a sharp pang of longing, PJ thought of all the times Jack had once
done the same thing with him. He had to close his eyes tight to stop a
sudden flow of tears. Anything! Anything! I'd give anything for just a
minute with Jack! Anything to hear him tell me again, "You did great, PJ!
You're my Little Champ!"

Erik gave his stepfather another hug, told him something, picked up his
bag, and climbed aboard.  He made his way slowly down the aisle and got
into the seat by PJ. "Bill says he's gonna check around and get all the
scores for us. An' he knows some guys whose kids go to Essex, so he'll try
to get a scouting report."

"Bill's really nice," PJ said. He paused a moment, and added hesitantly,
"Erik, it's OK, isn't it? That I like Bill, I mean . . .  an' that he's
nice to me after the games an' everything? I mean, you don't mind or
anything, do you? It kinda helps me a lot. But I . . . I'll keep away from
him if you don't like it."

Erik stared at PJ in surprise, and then his look turned to one of
understanding. "I don't mind at all, buddy," he said. "I want Bill to like
you just as much as he likes me. You're my brother." He touched PJ's
arm. "I wish Jack would come to one of these games. You were hoping he
would come today, weren't you."

PJ looked around to be sure no one could hear, and then leaned over to
whisper, "He did come."

"What?" Eric's eyes widened.

PJ put a finger up and shook his head. You can't tell anyone," he
whispered. "It was a secret. Jack didn't want to be recognized. He didn't
let anyone know he was there."

"I never even saw him," Erik whispered back. "Where was he?"

"Up at the top of the stands on our side. Way up in the corner. He had a
big coat on and dark glasses."

"Are you sure?" Erik looked doubtful. "I don't remember seeing . . ."

PJ nodded positively. "I swear. He stayed nearly the whole game."

"Why didn't he talk to you?" Erik asked, puzzled.

"He couldn't. If he did, someone would have recognized him."

"But he didn't even come down when you got hurt, PJ!"

PJ bit his lip, sorry now that he'd said anything. He knew Jack had been
there, but maybe it was better not to say so, even to Erik. "He didn't know
I was hurt that bad. I waved to him like I was OK. Anyway, I'm sure he had
to leave after that."

"Well . . ." Erik still seemed puzzled, but he went on, "He got to see you
play a great game. It's the first time he's ever seen you in football,
isn't it?"

PJ nodded. "Yeah. And it felt so great knowing he was there, Erik!"

"Now I see why you didn't want to come out of the game."

"Uh-huh. I just had to get Coach to put me back in! I told him about
Jack. He's the only other person who knows." PJ settled back in the seat,
hugging to himself the knowledge of Jack's secret visit.  He wouldn't
mention it to anyone else. Jack had been there just for him! The real Jack!
The one who'd signed his Safe At Home book "Your Friend Always." It didn't
matter if no one else could see his hero.

The coaches went up and down the bus, checking to be sure every
Gordonsville player was on board before the driver closed the doors. The
Top Floor Gang waved goodbye to Bill as the bus pulled away, and PJ tried
to get comfortable for the long ride back. But no matter what position he
got into, part of him hurt and all of him ached.

When they turned out of the Foxton school gates onto the highway Erik said,
"I'm glad I don't go to that place. You should've heard their coach
screaming at his kids after they lost. No one even came over to shake our
hands."

"Their swim team was just the same way," PJ said, nodding. He started to
turn his head, thinking he should check on Brian and Phil behind them to
make sure Phil was in a window seat with the glass open a crack--yet a
sharp pain made him wince, and he had to twist his entire body to look
around.

"How many times did they face-mask you?" Erik asked after PJ had gotten
settled again.

"I lost count," PJ said. "But the one thing that really hurt was when
someone twisted my neck under a pile-up on the sideline. After that I just
couldn't move my head much at all."

"That wasn't the only time you got hurt, Bro. One of their linebackers was
after you the whole goddamned game."

"Yeah, that asshole. He sucker-punched me, kicked me, called me names."

"Well, you didn't have to worry about him at the end, PJ. Me an' Jacob took
care of that fucker late in the fourth quarter!" Erik glanced around
cautiously. "Shit, I better hold my voice down. Would you believe the refs
didn't even blow a whistle. It was like they knew the bastard deserved what
we gave him." He smiled sardonically. "Their coaches had to help ole number
"7"off the field."

"I didn't think you ever lost your temper, Roomie," whispered PJ, looking
at Erik with an expression mixed with wonder and devotion.

Replied Erik, "Wrongo, dumbo, not when it comes to my best friend!"

A short time later, both Matthew and Jacob came from up front to tell PJ
that Coach wanted to see him. Jacob winked at Erik before turning back, and
PJ knew why. Erik got up and helped PJ slide over into the aisle. "Coach
probably wants to be sure you're still alive," he said. Then he lowered his
voice. "By the way, he doesn't know what Jacob an' I did."

Grabbing seatbacks for support as he went, PJ hobbled slowly up to the
front of the bus, and sat down in the seat next to his coach, who
immediately asked, "How are you feeling, PJ?"

"I'm fine, Coach.  Just a little sore, is all."

"Think you'll be OK for next week?"

"Sure. I'll be OK tomorrow!" PJ made sure his answer sounded self-assured,
confident. No way was he admitting the truth! Coach might not let me play
in the Essex game!

Mr. Lewis chuckled. "Listen, PJ. I want you to know that your coaches
aren't blind. We saw some of the things that were going on out there
today. Tomorrow I'm putting in a report about that game to our athletic
director and he'll see to it that the league is informed. We're not the
first team to have trouble with Foxton. I think eventually something's
going to be done about them."

"We had trouble with their swim team, too," PJ told him.

"Oh, really. That's interesting. Thanks for telling me that, PJ." Coach
Lewis made a note on his clipboard. "I'll get Coach Bernard in on this,
too. I know I'll see him tomorrow. He's in my office every day asking about
you. When he sees you limping in swim practice tomorrow morning, he'll come
looking for me with fire in his eye!"

PJ tried not to smirk. "I'll do my best not to limp in front of him,
Coach."

The young man sighed and shook his head. "I shouldn't have let you go back
in that last quarter. You were already pretty beat up. But when you told me
that Mr. Canon was there, well. . . . Hey, by the way, I looked around a
little for him after you told me and I didn't see him. Where was he?"

"He was sort of hiding up in the corner of the stands," PJ said. "He was
wearing dark glasses."

"I must have missed him. "I know you said he didn't want to be recognized,
but I figured he wouldn't mind if I talked to him about you."

PJ nodded, hoping Coach Lewis would change the subject.

"Tell me something. In that game today, you knew the other team was gunning
for you, didn't you?"

PJ nodded again.

"Weren't you afraid? What kept you going? Was it because Jack was there?"

PJ stared straight ahead into the darkness gathering beyond the front
windows of the bus. Finally, he replied, "I guess that's part of it. But
it's like other stuff Jack tells me. He says it takes courage to play when
it's tough, an' that I always gotta find that courage inside myself. He
tells me never to be afraid to face the challenge. He tells me to never say
die."

Coach Lewis shook his head. "Jack Canon is quite a guy, huh?"

"I think he's the greatest person in the world."

PJ was still staring straight ahead. The stark simplicity of his reply
appeared to startle his coach, who paused in confusion before saying, "Uh
. . . Yeah. Well, that's why I want to ask you a favor, PJ. I'm sure
Mr. Canon is planning to be here for the Homecoming Game, right? That's
almost two weeks after the World Series is over. He'll be here to take you
to the Father-Son Dinner, won't he? I mean, he wouldn't want to miss that!"

PJ nodded a third time. "No," he answered softly, "he couldn't miss that."

"Well, I'm supposed to get a speaker for the Dinner," the young coach
explained, "and I was wondering . . . I mean, I know Jack does a lot of
speaking in the off-season. And everyone says he's really good. He doesn't
have to give anything long or fancy. All we want is someone who can just
say some basic things. You know the sort of things you boys need to
hear. Like, what sports should really be about. Things like . . ."

". . . things like sportsmanship and teamwork," PJ finished for him. "And
courage, and friendship and determination. All the important things."

Coach Lewis smiled. "Yes, PJ," he said after a moment. "Those are the
things I mean."

PJ nodded yet again and said quietly, "Jack can talk about those things. He
talks to me about them all the time."

"I'll bet he does." His coach regarded him affectionately. "Would you ask
him if he'll talk at the Dinner?"

"I'll ask him. I'm sure he'd want to." But the coach's request had PJ's
stomach fluttering in panic. He wasn't sure of anything. Jack!  Would he
come to the Father-Son Dinner?

Frantically he told himself, He promised! The real Jack would. The real
Jack from my poster, He came to my game today!

But a realization came from the part of him that still had hold of
reality. (You're the only one who can see him. You want the other Jack. You
think he's coming? He doesn't even answer your e-mails.)

He kept staring out the windows into the twilight. You have to come, Jack!
You just have to! If you don't, everything is spoiled! They'll all know!
He'd made so many excuses for his parents. He didn't want to make any
more. Why go on that way? Why go on being the stupid kid nobody wanted?
Jack! You promised! There's no place left to go if you don't come!

(Yes there is. You know there is. Jack's son is dead. Go find the real Jack
and be safe forever at the bottom of the pool.)

". . . Let me know." PJ became aware that Coach Lewis was talking. "Having
Jack Canon at our dinner will really be something! Say . . . You know
what?" He put an arm around PJ's shoulders. "I'm gonna keep you at running
back. That flu bug Garry picked up is probably mono. They say he's probably
out for the rest of the season. You work better with Erik anyway. I'm
betting you can handle it."

The fond tone and import of those words helped PJ muster the resolve
necessary to keep his fears at bay. With an effort, he made himself answer
as he knew Jack would expect him to.

"I can do it. I like being running back. But I'll play wherever you need
me, Coach."

"I know you will, PJ." The young man ruffled the boy's hair. "If I had ten
more like you and Erik, I'd be ready to take on the Upper School team!"

"Erik thinks we can beat them already," PJ said, warmed by the reference to
his best friend. "He'd wanna take on Notre Dame!"

While Coach Lewis was still chuckling at that last remark, PJ stumbled back
to his seat, fears still hovering at the edge of his thoughts. Come find
me, Jack! Please come find me! You promised. . . .

 It was now dark and only a few reading lights were on. Before he sat down,
he checked on Phil. The boy was wide-awake, sitting quietly with Brian's
head pillowed on his lap. Brian had curled himself up next to him, fast
asleep. "You doin' OK?" PJ whispered.

Phil nodded. "I'm taking care of him," he said proudly.

PJ nodded back. Erik slid around and let him move into the window
seat. "Everything OK?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah. I'm playin' running back again next week."

"Good." Erik's eyes opened wider and he put out a fist. PJ put his own fist
next to it. "We need you to be one-hundred-percent for that game, PJ," Erik
told him.

"I will be."

But running back was the furthest thing from PJ's mind. Now he wasn't sure
that Jack had even been at the game. Nobody else seemed to have seen him!
If he'd just dreamed the whole thing, that hurt. That really hurt! Things
were so confusing!

 He yawned and shifted around, trying to get comfortable. All of a sudden,
he felt desperately tired. Despite his worry about Jack and all the aches
and pains, his eyes were closing.

Erik asked softly, "You want one of the lights on, PJ?"

"No," PJ said. "I'll be all right, I think."

He leaned his head sleepily on Erik's shoulder and took hold of his
friend's arm.

"Erik?"

"What, PJ?"

"Don't let me have bad dreams."

"I won't let you," Erik promised. And somehow, he didn't.

* * *

CONCLUSION TO INSTALLMENT THIRTY-NINE

Paul K. Scott's e-mail: paulkdoctor@gmail.com

NOTE TO READERS: THIS WILL BE HE LAST INSTALLMENT PUBLISHED UNTIL AFTER THE
NEW YEAR'S HOLIDAY.  A. J. AND I HAVE TO RELAX AND RELOAD!  PLUS PJ AND
ERIK AND THE ENTIRE TOP FLOOR GANG ARE A-WAITING A VISIT FROM SANTA, HOPING
THEY WILL RECEIVE PRESENTS ON CHRISTMAS DAY!