Booked Read Free Page A

turns
    Â 
    to leave,
    Pernell chides,
    Sorry about that, chopstick,
    Â 
    then laughs,
    but Coby laughs back,
    then winks at him,
    Â 
    and Pernell is flummoxed
    or pissed
    or
both.
    Â 
    Both teams take their positions.
    You know Coby’s smile
    is misleading.
    Â 
    He’s ready to pounce.

Score
    You
pass to the forward, whose
    shot stings like wasabi, then
    disappears into net. BOO-YAH!

Right before halftime
    with the score 2–1,
    Coby dribbles the ball
    past two of our defenders,
    speeds down the sidelines
    like a cheetah,
    then slants
    toward the middle.
    Pernell is the only
    player from our team
    left between him
    and our goalie.
    It’s the matchup
    you know
    Coby has been itching for
    since the start whistle.
    As soon as Pernell charges
    Coby cuts back
    and you know
    what’s coming next.
    Pernell dives in
    for the take . . .
    Oh, WOW!
    Coby nutmegs * him.

    He demoralizes Pernell.
    Drops him
    to his butt.
    Treats him
    like a dog.
    Sit. Stay.
    Â 
    The crowd goes wild.
    Both sides.
    And when he ties
    the game,
    even you grin
    at your best friend’s
    genius.
    Â 
    Payback is a beast, isn’t it!

Guess Who’s Back?
    The Mac
    in electric blue Chuck Taylors
    runs over to your bench
    during the break.
    Â 
    Hey, Nick, you didn’t tell me Coby was a bus driver.
    Huh?
    Â 
    He took that fool to school!
    You want to agree loudly, but
that fool
is your teammate, so you just kinda nod.
    Â 
    You don’t look so swell, partner.
    Uh, it’s just hot out here (which is the worst thing you could have said, ’cause then The Mac starts rapping “
IT’S GETTING HOT IN HERE”
in front of the entire team).

Halftime
    Right after
    you glance
    at April waving
    from the bleachers,
    your stomach detonates:
    KABOOM!
    and you lose it
    right there
    behind the bench
    in Pernell’s gym bag.

Coach asks
    Nick, you okay?
Yep, better.
    I need to sub you?
No I’m good, Coach.
Good! Then get in there.

Second Half
    The game’s tied
    when Dad finally shows up.
    Â 
    You throw in
    to Pernell, who screens it.
    Â 
    Your belly’s in a boxing match.
    And losing. Bad.
    Â 
    Here comes Coby.
    Pernell taunts him,
    Â 
    feints a pass.
    Coby doesn’t fall for it.
    Â 
    Instead he leaps like a lion,
    they collide.
    Â 
    Pernell eats dirt,
    curses.
    Â 
    Man against boy,
Coby says.
    Standing over Pernell.
    Â 
    The ref holds a yellow card
    to a grinning Coby.
    Â 
    Thirty-two minutes left.
    ARGGH!

Nine Minutes Left. Can’t This Be Over Already?
    The jabs to your belly
    are almost unbearable.
    Â 
    Dad was right, food poisoning.
    You’ll never eat fish again. EVER!
    Â 
    Pernell’s direct free kick
    is wide left.
    Â 
    The pain is right
    beneath your rib.
    Â 
    You dribble fast, somehow
    you get in front
    Â 
    of Coby, and he holds you.
    From behind. You slip.
    Â 
    The referee blows the whistle.
    Play stops.
    Â 
    Coby gives you a hand up.
    If he gets another yellow,
    Â 
    he’s done. Game over for him.
    Just a warning. Whew!
    Â 
    Pernell comes over, gets in Coby’s face:
    You think you’re Messi, player, but
    Â 
    you’re just dirty! If you wanna play
    dirty, we can do that, and after
    Â 
    I take you down, I’m gonna make you
    wash my clothes, cut
    Â 
    my grass, lace my cleats.
    You’re about to get shook, crook.
    Â 
    The pain only allows you to laugh
    a little. Pernell is crazy, but he better
    Â 
    watch out, ’cause Coby, who bumps
    Pernell’s shoulder as he walks away,
    Â 
    looks pretty
    freakin’ pissed.

Booked
    You get the ball
    again and
    Â 
    take off
    for the corner.
    Â 
    You almost forget
    the pain. Almost.
    Â 
    It’s sharp, like an uppercut.
    There’s the goal.
    Â 
    And there’s Coby again.
    Running
    Â 
    toward you
    like a gazelle.
    Â 
    Your stomach can’t take any more
    punches.
    Â 
    No one in front of you
    but the goalkeeper
    Â 
    and Coby.
    You pass it