Goal-Line Stand Read Free Page A

there, remember?”
    Cody could feel the tension building like the heat in a sauna. Pork Chop and Alston had been trash-talking since summer baseball. Now they stood only a few feet apart, staring each other down. Pork Chop’s thick arms were folded across his chest, while Alston’s hung at his sides, his hands clenching and unclenching.
    When Coach Smith stepped between them, Cody felt a long exhale escape from his chest.
    “You best save your aggression for the gridiron, Porter,” Coach said evenly. “Besides, your team’s down by four buckets. Not really a good time to be yappin’.”
    Alston went into his trademark sneer. “Yeah, Port—”
    “And you,” Coach Smith cut in, “don’t even start with me, Blondie. You know, if you would have gone out for football, you two could have settled your differences on the field. But no, I guess some of us are just too pretty to play football, aren’t we?”
    Alston started to retort and then caught himself. Coach Smith shook his head and snorted. “I’ve had a gut full of this class. Run six laps and hit the showers.”
    On his way to the locker room, Pork Chop detoured toward Cody. “Did you check that block, Code?” he gushed. “Is the Midnight Cowboy the baddest baller in town or what? Do I not have crazy game? Am I not the king up in this beast?”
    Cody rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Chop. You’re bad. You’re nationwide. If you can stop big-upping yourself for a minute, I want to introduce you to someone. This is Kris Knight, a new guy.”
    Pork Chop extended a meaty paw to Knight. “Welcome to Grant Penitentiary—I mean, Grant Middle School, new dude. Hey, did you see that block?”
    “Uh-huh,” Knight said nervously. “It was…uh…sweet!”
    Pork Chop looked thoughtfully at the ceiling. Then he nodded slowly. “Interesting thought, there, Mr. Knight.”
    Cody sandwiched his head between his hands and started rubbing his temples. Doesn’t he ever get tired of this act? he wondered.
    “Sweet, swwwweeeet, suh-weet,” Pork Chop said, playing with the word like a new toy. “Yeah, it was sweet, wasn’t it? You’re all right, new guy. You’re gonna go far here. You’re what I call…perceptive.”
    Knight smiled sheepishly. Cody stifled a groan.
    Later that day, Cody and his rookie student sat across from each other at an eight-foot rectangular table near the lunchroom’s exit doors. “Today’s a good day, Kris,” he said, dabbing mustard from the corners of his mouth. “The hot dogs here are pretty good. Of course, who could mess up a hot dog?”
    Knight took a bite of his dog and nodded approvingly.
    “But, dude, I gotta warn you. You must beware of the grilled-cheese sandwiches in this place. It’s this DayGlo orange stuff that must come from radioactive cows or something.”
    Cody felt the table shiver as Pork Chop plopped down across the table from him. “Yeah,” he said, “Code’s right about the sammiches. They upset my tummy big-time. Gives whole new meaning to that slogan about ‘the power of cheese!’ The power to make you hurl!”
    “True,” Cody said, gulping from a carton of chocolate milk. “But if you really wanna talk gut-bomb food, you gotta talk lasagna. Under no circumstances should you eat the lasagna here. You’ll get heartburn.”
    Pork Chop belched in agreement. “Dude, if I were stranded on a desert island and had a choice between eating the school’s lasagna or my own foot, well, they’d have to start calling me Hopalong!”
    Knight covered his mouth with his napkin, fighting to keep his milk where it belonged. Cody saw his eyes begin to water.
    Pork Chop clapped Knight on the back so hard that he began to cough. “A man with a sense of humor? I like you already, dude. It’s hard to find people in this little town who can appreciate my sophisticated wit.”
    “Well, he’s not going to be able to appreciate your humor if you kill the poor guy with those sledgehammer arms of yours,” Cody said. “Take it