Revenge of the Bully (15 page)

“Where are you going?” Toby screamed after him. “She's half your size!”

“I can't hit a girl,” Bruno called back. “It's one of my dad's rules!”

We watched them go. I don't know if I was more shocked that Bruno had run off or that Kayla had actually stuck up for me.

“Bart,” Toby said, “can you please take care of Rathbone once and for all?”

“My pleasure,” he said with a grin.

“That would be a bad idea.” This time the voice belonged to a boy. Rishi emerged from behind a tree holding up his phone.

“What now?” Toby whined.

“I'm filming this whole thing,” Rishi said, “and I'm pretty certain none of these guys will be playing in tomorrow's game once their principal sees this footage.”

“What?” several of the Windham players yelled.

“It was
his
idea!” Bart yelled, pointing at Toby.

All the other players yelled, “Yeah, it was Toby! Get him!”

“But, but, but,” Toby blubbered. Seeing the charging Windham Bombers, it was Toby's turn to bolt. He ran off screaming through the trees. It was a beautiful sight.

The one Bomber who didn't join the pursuit was Bart. Something had caught his attention. He was standing next to Rishi. “So,” he asked, “you're going to show this clip to my principal?”

“That's right,” Rishi said, “and to our principal, Dr. Stone. Want to wave and say hi? As soon as I get back she's seeing it.”

“So, you're not streaming it now?” Bart asked.

I could see where this was going and tried to warn him. “Rishi . . .”

“Well, the cell service is not the best out here,” Rishi continued, smiling. Talking about video and photo technology was one of his favorite subjects. “I can upload later, and I can edit it, which . . . Hey!”

Bart grabbed the phone and hurled it with all his might into the depths of the gorge. “OOOps!” he laughed.

“That's a sixty-megapixel phone!” Rishi wailed.

Bart wasn't listening. Grunting, he shoved Rishi aside and moved in my direction. “I'm going to finally do what we set out here for.” He came at me quickly, his two huge fists ready to . . .

“POLICE! FREEZE!”

This time it was an adult voice. Bart jumped and turned on his heels. Once again I had the pleasure of watching a Windham football player run off frantically into the woods.

Thank goodness the cops had arrived. I went to thank them but there weren't any. Instead, my dad appeared from behind a bush. “That was fun!” he said. “I felt just like Clint Eastwood. Did you see that kid take off?” Jessica and Samantha also came out from their hiding spots.

I was stunned, unable to comprehend what had just happened. “How . . . ?”

Everyone talked excitedly at once. From what I could make out, Rishi and the girls had become suspicious pretty soon after I left them and decided to come looking for me. They spotted the fake ESPN sign and saw me surrounded down in the ravine. When I disappeared into the crack between the cliffs, they didn't know what to do. Kayla, it turns out, was the one who suggested they shadow Toby and the Windham players.

“And Rishi here texted me,” my dad added, “just as I was about to order a chocolate milk shake.”

I gazed at them with tremendous appreciation—and relief. The bad guys had been scared off and we could see Kayla making her way back to us. She had on a rare big smile. She'd always been a pain in my butt but now I wanted to go up and hug her. Someone else must have been thinking the same thing. Rishi grabbed her and said, “My hero!”

“It's heroine, you numbskull!” she barked, but she was still smiling slightly and wasn't slashing at him.

Jessica asked, “Are you okay, Rodney? Why were those guys after you?”

“That's obvious,” my dad said. “They're afraid of what he's going to do tomorrow! Oh, who's this, Rodney?”

In all the excitement I had forgotten about Pablo. He was hanging back near the rim of the cave. I motioned for him to join us. “Dad, this is Pablo. I think you're going to be seeing a lot of him over at our place.”

“Oh, yeah? Great.” Looking at Pablo he added, “You're always welcome in our home, son.” My dad was like that sometimes. In one second he had sized up the situation. “And speaking of home,” he continued, “we better be on our way. It's getting late.”

Careful to stay on the White Trail, we hiked through Nelson Ledges one last time back to the car. Once there, my dad looked at all of us. “Hmmm. We have one more than when we started. Rishi, why don't you and Pablo join me up front.” He smiled at me. “Rodney, you wouldn't mind cramming in the back with the girls . . . would you?”

Yep, when it came to dads, mine was all right.

Chapter 16

LET THE GAMES BEGIN

All of Garrettsville sat behind me in the stands. In fact, the stands were so packed that the crowd had spilled over and people were surrounding the field.

Yes, everyone I knew had come out for the big game, but I didn't turn around. The fearsome-looking team on the opposite sideline held my attention. The last time I'd seen many of these players was yesterday at Nelson Ledges when they tore off into the woods. From their glares—and the way they kept shouting, “You're dead, Rathbone!”—I got the sense they weren't too happy.

“Isn't this great?” Rishi had suddenly joined me on the G-Men sideline. “They wouldn't be saying that stuff if you weren't the star player!”

“Lucky me. Hey, you're not allowed to stand here.”

“I know, but I need to tell you something important. Yesterday, when we got back from Nelson Ledges—”

“You!” Coach Manual shouted, pointing at Rishi. “Back in the bleachers. We're about to start the game.”

“You better go,” I said. “You can tell me during halftime.”

“But . . .”

Coach Manual was still staring at us so Rishi took off—leaving me alone with my not-so-pleasant thoughts.

So far I had been able to avoid direct eye contact with the twins. They had been going over something with their father but now had joined the rest of the team. I noticed Bart's helmet turning slowly in my direction. I knew it was Bart by the number ninety-nine on his jersey. He was talking to one of the other players but scanning the G-Men carefully. Suddenly his massive head locked onto its target and came to a stop. I gulped. His eyes met mine and I watched his body tense. He took a step forward. My worst fears were coming true! He was actually going to walk straight across the field and clobber me in front of everyone.

Instead he gave me a friendly wave and kept talking to the kid next to him.

Huh? What was that about? Was the little wave part of some devious plot? I was completely confused. My mouth felt dry and I was about to grab some Gatorade when from behind me I heard, “We won't be able to stay and watch da game.”

There was no mistaking the Boss's voice. I turned and found myself staring straight into Cheese's stomach. The Boss was dressed in a dark blue suit and standing next to Willy. Coach Manuel walked over. “Hey, you can't . . .”

Cheese stared down at him. “We's can't what?”

“You can't, uh . . .” Coach Manuel was at a loss for words. “You can't believe what a good player Rodney is. Bye!” He ran off and hid behind Josh.

“As I was saying,” the Boss continued, “da plane from Chicago arrives in an hour. We gotta go get ready for tonight. Know why we stopped by to see you?”

“To give me some words of encouragement?” I asked.

The Boss sneered. “To tell ya to win da game—or it's curtains for you.”

The three of them turned and pushed their way through the crowd to the waiting limo.

“Was that guy an interior decorator?” Hector asked.

“What?”

“That guy. He was talking about curtains. Do you like home-improvement shows? I watch them a lot with my mom.”

Great. I was basically dead meat if we didn't win today and all my quarterback could talk about was interior decorating! Unfortunately, the rest of the team was no better. Everyone was silent and pensive. How could we possibly beat Windham? The G-Men needed to get pumped up. There was only one person who could change their mood and say something inspirational.

I turned to Coach Laimbardi. He looked at me, yelped, “Gotta go!” and speed-walked his way to the end zone. Reaching a blue porta-potty he yanked open the door and disappeared inside. With my own stomach fluttering and gurgling, it wasn't the kind of inspiration I was hoping for.

I kept watching, eager for him to return. Time clicked off the scoreboard clock signaling that the game was about to start. He still didn't come out. What was going on? Eventually, I walked down the sideline. The crowd cheered my name. Josie and the cheerleaders waved their pom-poms as I neared the potty.

“Good planning, Rodney!” I heard my dad yell. “Take care of that now.”

A bunch of people started laughing. Everyone was watching me and I didn't think things could get more embarrassing . . . until I saw the porta-potty was named Doodie Calls. I leaned in to speak. “Um, sorry to bother you . . .”

“You might want to find another place to go, son. This could be a while.”

“It's Rodney, and we don't have a while! Coach, the game's going to start any minute. We need you to get us going. To motivate us. Are you coming out?”

“Uhhh, well, I'm having a little stomach issue. I don't understand it. It can't be nerves. I'm nervous before every game.”

“Did you eat anything weird last night?”

“No. Last night I ate some of Mrs. Laimbardi's meatloaf. Rodney, I really scored a touchdown when I married that one. She sure can cook. I remember when we—”

“How about today?”

“No, I never eat breakfast on game day. All I had were some G-Men cookies when I got here.”

“G-Men cookies?”

“Yeah, they're shaped like footballs and say G-Men. That lady who's been tutoring the players gave them to me. Not bad. Now, I'm not saying she can bake as well as Mrs. Laimbardi, but . . .”

While he blabbed on about his wife's famous cheesecake, I looked into the stands. It didn't take long to spot Mrs. Lutzkraut's flaming red hair. She smiled at me, pretended to eat a cookie, and burst out laughing.

I had known that having her lurking about would cause me trouble. I also knew that she had shown our playbook to Belicheat. But I didn't see
this
coming. Without Coach getting us motivated and calling the plays, the game was hopeless.

“Rodney! Over here!” Several rows from Mrs. Lutzkraut, my mom was waving a pennant and nearly jumping out of her seat. She was completely caught up in the pre-game excitement. I'd never seen her cheer and yell about football. “Check out the float,” she called to me, pointing down the field. Someone had driven over a giant football from last week's high school homecoming game. It had the words “G-Men” on both sides.

I smiled back at my mom and realized that her enthusiasm was nothing compared to my dad. He and my old principal, Mr. Feebletop, were trying to get the wave started. Everyone loved it and was joining in. All of them—students, teachers, friends, families—believed we could win. The town's enthusiasm only made me feel worse. Once we lost, I'd have to deal with the Boss
and
a disappointed community.

I started to walk back to the team. The wave was now running the length of the crowd in full force. I noticed Mrs. Lutzkraut stand and throw her arms in the air with a big, fake smile on her face. She had timed the wave perfectly. She had timed everything perfectly. With Coach Laimbardi out of commission, the Bombers were bound to win. Her eyes met mine and again she made that cruel, twisted smile. I hated that it was going to end like this. Mrs. Lutzkraut, it appeared, had gotten her revenge.

Unless . . .

I looked from my teammates to the porta-potty and back to the team. A crazy idea began to form in my head. It was so crazy that it just might work. I turned my attention one last time to my former teacher, eager for her to see me. Now
I
was the one wearing a big grin—and she didn't seem to like it one bit.

“All right team,” Coach Laimbardi yelled, “this is the day we've been waiting for—some of us our whole lives! Look across that field. See the confident looks behind their face masks? See Coach Belicheat grinning? See their fans in the away-stands laughing? How does that make you feel?”

There was a quiet grumble. Eventually Joe called out, “Sorry, coach, I didn't catch the last part.”

“Oh. Let me try this.” Through a vent near the top of the porta-potty Laimbardi asked, “Is this better?”

“Yes,” we all agreed at once.

Minutes earlier I had enlisted the help of Josh and the entire offensive line. To the shock of everyone in the stands, we had dragged the porta-potty more than sixty yards to the middle of the sideline. As we pushed and pulled I saw Belicheat almost choke on his whistle. Mrs. Lutzkraut was equally stunned, though she would soon be right back to her old tricks.

“I was saying,” Coach Laimbardi continued, “you boys aren't old enough to know this, but that man, that team, and those fans have been looking at us like that for years, and every year we've gone out on that field and gotten beat. The whole town of Garrettsville has suffered from continuous humiliation. Don't believe me? Look behind us. Everyone is here. It's the largest crowd we've ever had. They all know that this year is different. This is the year we beat the Windham Bombers! This is the year we restore our pride”—he banged against the porta-potty for emphasis—“and dignity!”
Doodie Calls
was vibrating wildly. “This is our game to win!”

“Yeah!” a bunch of my teammates yelled. They were getting pumped up. It was working.

“And how do I know we're going to win?” he called out.

We all shouted in unison, “How?” The excitement was building.

“Because your teammate, Rodney Rathbone, had the guts and bravery to guarantee it in the newspaper!”
Uh-oh
. “If he can stand up to Windham, we can
all
stand up to Windham. It's our destiny to win. Now go out there and show them what we're made of!”

“YEAH!” A sound like thunder filled the air as everyone banged on the blue plastic potty walls.

The kickoff team ran onto the field and the rest of us spread out to watch. I felt nauseas and wondered if coach had any room in his hideout. He must have seen me lingering through the vent holes. “What'd you think, Rodney?”

“Um, great speech, Coach.”

“Thanks. Did you like how I tied you in there with the destiny thing?”

“Uh, yeah. Very inspiring.”

“By the way, brilliant idea moving me to the middle of the sideline. I can do everything I need to do from here.
Everything
.”

Dealing with Coach's problems helped me put mine aside and I settled into watching the game. With Josie cheering him on, Trevor continued his inspired play. He tackled the Windham running back on first and second down and then swooped in and sacked their quarterback on third. I was cheering along with everyone else until I remembered that Windham was now going to punt on fourth down. That meant I was about to . . .

“Offense, take the field!” the porta-potty yelled.

We ran out. As I headed to my huddle a big, thick arm grabbed me. It was Bruno. Was he going to tackle me before the play even started?

“Hey Rodney . . .” He paused. “Um, that was fun yesterday. We should do it again sometime. Good luck today.” He smiled awkwardly and shambled off to join his defense.

“Rodney,” Hector called.

“Huh?”

“You going to get in the huddle?”

“Uhh, yeah.” My mind was on Bruno. Was he setting me up? There was no way he had fun yesterday. His nose was still bruised and swollen from where I'd kicked him! Maybe he was trying to get me to let my guard down. Once I did, wham, I'd be flattened.

“Rodney?” Hector called again.

“What?”

“Did you hear the play? We're running blue dive right on two. You ready?”

I lined up behind Josh.

“Hut, hut!” Hector yelled.

BLAHMMMM! The whole Windham line swarmed inside the blocks. Somehow Hector managed to hand me the ball. I was supposed to run up the middle but all I saw were Windham players. Josh smashed into them and I did my best to follow him, picking up three or four yards before getting dragged down. The Windham players piled on top of me. It was hard to breathe and I felt like a bug squirming under a shoe.

“All right, get up,” a voice commanded. “Come on, get off him.” Who was this hero coming to my rescue? I felt the weight lifting and the air returning to my lungs. Once I could move, I turned my head and saw Bart. He was hoisting one of his own players out of the scrum. Noticing me staring in disbelief, he said, “Nice run, Rodney.”

Another set of hands lifted me up. It was Bruno. “Hey, let me fix your shoulder pad.” He tucked a flap back under my jersey. “There you go. Good as new.”

I couldn't take it anymore! What were they up to? Next they'd be baking me a pie. “Uhh, thanks.”

“Don't mention it.”

More confused than ever I returned to the huddle—just in time for a new concern to surface. On the next two plays, it seemed that Windham knew exactly what we were going to do. Even though Mrs. Lutzkraut had shared our playbook with them, there was no way they could anticipate what play we were about to run. Or could they?

I sat down on the bench to give it some thought just as a cheer erupted from the Windham sideline. The Bombers had kicked a field goal and we were now officially losing. I could almost hear Coach Laimbardi sigh from within the john.