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would start playing. I wasn’t so clumsy anymore, and my hair was as short a buzz cut as you could get without shaving your head.
    â€œHello, Moose,” a girl said as I passed by.
    â€œUm…hi,” I stammered.
    â€œGreat game,” she said and flashed me a big smile.
    I didn’t know who she was. I think she was in grade nine or ten. Lots of people who knew me, I didn’t know. Caleb said that I had to start taking advantage of that. Caleb was always better at talking than me. He was a lot better than me at a whole lot of things—especially things related to school. He just breezed through classes, getting nineties. I had to work like crazy to keep my marks in the seventies.
    I turned and watched the girl walk away. I’d be more than willing to have Caleb work something out with her.
    I turned the corner. Caleb was standing by the gym office door. There were five other guys, all in our grade, all on the football team. Caleb waved.
    â€œHow you doing, Moose?” Caleb asked.
    â€œNot bad. How about you, Squirrel?” Caleb hated that nickname and I only called him that occasionally to bug him.
    â€œMan, how come you get the good nickname?” he asked.
    â€œDon’t look at me,” I said. “I didn’t hang that name on you.”
    Caleb was smaller than me. Actually, everybody was smaller than me. And because we hung around all the time and I was called Moose, somebody started to call him Squirrel. From that cartoon,
Rocky and Bullwinkle
—squirrel and moose.
    While we were standing talking, the rest of the returning ball players arrived.
    â€œAnybody know what this is about?” I asked.
    â€œDuh…football.”
    â€œI meant why are we meeting now, today?”
    â€œI just figure anything that gets me out of Spanish has to be good,” Caleb said.
    Almost on cue I heard Coach’s door open and I spun around. It wasn’t Coach. It wasa man dressed in a fancy suit, his hair all slicked back.
    â€œPlease come in,” he said as he motioned for us to enter the office. We shuffled in through the open door. I expected Coach to be inside. He wasn’t there either.
    â€œPlease sit,” the man said and we all took seats.
    â€œI’m sorry to take you out of classes, but I needed a chance to introduce myself. I’m Coach Barnes, your new coach.”
    I was hoping we’d meet him, but I figured it wouldn’t happen until school started in the fall. With that suit and hair he didn’t look like a coach—well maybe a coach in the NBA. He walked over until he was standing directly in front of one of the guys.
    â€œI’m pleased to meet you,” he said as he stuck out his hand to shake.
    â€œI’m pleased to meet you. My name is—”
    â€œYour name is Robert Erickson, if I’m not mistaken.”
    â€œYeah, that’s me,” Robbie said. “How did you know?”
    â€œI know lots of things. I know you’re a cornerback. You started half the games this season but you had problems with a knee injury. I know you’re fast and hard to beat on fly patterns. I know you had an eighty-seven in math but almost failed English. I know you live with both parents and you have seven older sisters.” He shook his head. “You poor boy. With that many girls in the house, do you ever get to see the inside of a bathroom?”
    Everybody laughed.
    â€œI know lots about everybody.” He walked down the line, introducing himself to each player, saying who they were, what position they played, something about their family and their school marks. Finally he stood in front of me.
    â€œYou’re Michael Monroe. The Moose. You play tackle. You came from being a second stringer on the junior team last year to lead the team in sacks and tackles. You were the MVP for the season. You live with your mother and you have no brothers or sisters. You do well in school with a consistent average in