Catching Jordan Read Free Page B

quarterback two days before the opening of the season?” Coach throws his clipboard onto the ground. How cheesy.
    “I’m fine, Coach,” I say. I’m not hurt, but I don’t want to stand, because I’m just as embarrassed now as the time my bathing suit top fel off on that waterslide in Florida.
    I can’t believe I just got sacked. Dad wil be furious when he finds out I got blindsided during a practice…great. Just what I need two days before opening game. More damned stress.
    “My fault, Coach,” JJ says. He holds out a hand and quickly pul s me to a standing position.
    “Don’t let that happen on Friday night!” Coach shouts, pointing a finger in JJ’s face.
    Under my helmet, I breathe deeply. JJ didn’t have to take the blame—it wasn’t his fault. But he did owe me. Last Saturday, I covered for him when he was late for practice—he’d been making out with Lacey and had lost track of time.
    Speaking of making out, I see Chace Crawford’s twin standing with the principal, looking concerned. Crap. So he saw my spil too. I’m glad I’m wearing my helmet, because my face feels hotter than a potato on a gril .
    He has this sandy blond hair that stands up in places and sweeps across his forehead. His blue eyes remind me of a Crayola crayon, the truest blue there is, and his worn-out polo shirt and faded jeans just hang off him.
    You can’t buy jeans that look like that—you have to wear them out for years to make them so perfect. I wonder if I could buy them off him. Wait— why would I do that? Nothing else he’d wear could compare with those jeans. I’m also glad to see he’s tal er than me by a few inches and has a great tan. And, oh the heavens, his body. What does he do? Work out for a living?
    Wait. What the hell is this guy doing on my field?
    I feel like I could simultaneously fly and barf. I need to get my head back into practice.
    Luckily, the principal starts speaking, distracting me. “Coach Mil er, I’d like you to meet Tyler Green. His high school footbal team won the Texas state championship last year. I know it’s a bit late for a tryout, but his family just moved here and I hope you’l consider him for the team. I can explain more later.”
    Coach nods. “Thanks.”
    The principal disappears back into the school, to the comfort of air conditioning.
    Wait. Did the principal just say something about Tyler and footbal ? And trying out for my team? I need to stop staring and figure out what’s going on here.
    Tyler, with his hands stuffed deep in his pockets, toes the yard line, then glances around at the team. Why’s he so nervous? For someone who won a state championship, you’d think he’d be this pompous asshole strutting around like he’s fucking Tom Brady.
    “So, Tyler,” Coach says.
    “Cal me Ty, Coach.”
    “Okay. So Ty, what position do you play?”
    “Quarterback, sir.”
    I take a step back, and everyone else on the team laughs.
    The position is mine.
    It’s been mine for two years and this new kid isn’t going to take it away.
    “Quiet!” Coach yel s. He gives the team a scary look and we al stop talking and laughing. One of those looks means: if you don’t behave, you’re gonna run five miles while wearing pads. “Ty—we already have a starting quarterback. An al -state quarterback.”
    Ty’s eyes seem to fil with pain, and he looks down at the ground. I’ve never seen a QB act like this before. Most are cocky, ful of attitude.
    Leaders. I can’t imagine fol owing a guy whose eyes give so much away. But he’s buff, and obviously good if he played for a Texas championship team. Texans take their footbal seriously. It’s practical y a religion down there.
    So what’s wrong?
    Wait. What’s al this sympathy? Jordan Woods isn’t sympathetic. I’m a rock.
    “But we could always use another good backup,” Coach says. “Our captain wil run you through some dril s. Woods!”
    Though my knees are stil wobbling, somehow I run over to Coach. Ty stretches