Takedown Read Free

off when he was battling to keep Tavo from pinning him, and his legs felt heavy from the running. But those were good hurts; they were the results of his effort.
    Except for a few sleepovers at Manny’s, Donald had slept in this room every night of his life. Everything in it was familiar: the trophies on his dresser for being a member of championship teams in Little League baseball and YMCA floor hockey, the framed photo on the wall above his bed of Donald and his father fishing off a pier at the Jersey Shore, the pile of board games collecting dust in the corner of the room—Monopoly, Stratego, Clue.
    And then there were those patterns in the ceiling’s cracked plaster, especially the large one that was roughly the shape of a fat alligator. And toward the edge, above the window, was the pattern he’d first identified as a dog when he was a toddler. Now it looked more to him like a woodchuck.
    All of these things were the same as they’d always been, but one thing seemed different to Donald. The difference was in him, the kid lying in bed thinking. He felt as if he’d crossed a line today, like he’d finally started becoming an athlete.
    The second day of practice was certain to be even harder. Donald yawned and turned out the light. The cold breeze from outdoors was steady. He huddled under the covers and fell into the deepest sleep he’d had since he was a baby.

3
    Mat Burns
    D onald could smell coffee brewing as he brushed his teeth in the morning. That would mean that his dad was up. He had only a few minutes before leaving for school, so he hustled into his clothes and trotted down the stairs.
    “Hey, Dad!”
    “Darnald!” Dad said with a laugh. “Cutting it close, as usual, I see. Not much time for breakfast.”
    Mr. Jenkins looked like an older version of his son—very lean with a smirky expression, and straight sandy hair that was cut short. The difference was that Dad’s hair was already turning gray and he wore glasses.
    Donald opened the refrigerator and set the orange-juice carton on the table. He picked up a cold baked potato from a few nights before and stared at it. “How long to microwave this, you think?”
    “Half a minute.”
    “Good deal. Any of that macaroni and cheese left?”
    “Should be.”
    He was very hungry, and lunch was a long way off.
    “Mom says you liked the wrestling?”
    “Yeah. Discomfort is a lot of fun.”
    “Your muscles hurting this morning?”
    “Not too bad. I can walk. A little.”
    Dad rolled his eyes. “Maybe we’d better call a limousine to take you to school. Or a helicopter.”
    “That’d be great, Dad. Have them pick me up after practice, too.”
    “That’ll really impress your teammates.”
    “I know it.”
    Donald wolfed down his food and grabbed his backpack. “Still cold out?”
    “Very. Feels like winter already.”
    “It won’t last. You working tonight?”
    “I expect to.”
    “Then I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
    Dad stood and kissed the top of Donald’s head.
    “Oh, man!” Donald said. “I forgot to make my lunch.”
    Dad rolled his eyes and took his wallet from his back pocket. “This’ll break the bank, but I guess you’d better buy lunch today.” He handed Donald a couple dollars. “Work hard,” he said.
    “Thanks,” Donald said as he stepped out to the porch. “Yeah, work is hard.”
    Manny was waiting on the Boulevard. He pointed to his wrist to indicate that they were running late. And he swung his backpack gently at Donald. “It’s cold, man. I been waiting here for five minutes.”
    “Poor guy. I’m weeping for you.”
    “I have math problems to finish in homeroom.”
    “Should’ve done ’em last night,” Donald said.
    “Like you should talk. I watched Monday Night Football instead.”
    They had to run the last three blocks to avoid being late.
    “My legs are beat,” Donald said as they hustled up the steps outside the school.
    “It’s good for you.”
    “We ran forever yesterday. You probably