Three-Point Play (6 page)

But by the time Cody arrived at his friend's side, Chop was quiet, sullen. “Chop,” Cody said, tentatively, “you okay? What was that all about?”

“He said ‘the word' to me,” Chop muttered. “Dropped the N-bomb. I'm not gonna take that.”

Cody felt anger rising inside him but quickly pushed it down. His friend needed a calming influence right now. “Look, big dawg,” he said, “for someone to say that to you—that's just wrong. But you gotta keep your head in the game. We're only down twelve points. But with Truck and ATV hurting, we need you more than ever.”

“It doesn't matter anyway,” Chop said robotically. “It's over.”

Cody felt his jaw drop. “I can't believe I'm hearing this from you! We've got almost half a game ahead of us. Over? No way is this over!”

It
was
over.

With a two-touchdown lead, Claxton Hills abandoned its passing game and kept the ball on the ground. With Tucker and ATV missing from the defense, Grant couldn't keep the first-down chains from moving. Clark was flying all over the field, on his way to a twenty-six-tackle performance, but he couldn't be everywhere. The Lancers moved into field goal range twice, connecting on one of the two opportunities.

Trailing 17–2 with only nine minutes to play, the Grant coaches grew desperate and inserted Clark into the offense, as tailback. “We gotta have our best player involved in every possible play,” Cody heard Coach Morgan say to a nodding Coach Curtis.

After three straight four-yard runs up the gut, Clark faked toward the middle of the line, then bounced outside. He outsprinted everyone to the end zone. Claxton Hills—17, Grant—8.

Hammond, ATV's replacement at kicker, somehow slipped the extra-point try
under
the crossbar, meaning Grant couldn't tie the game with another touchdown, followed by a two-point conversion. The Eagles had to produce two scores in just over seven minutes. And that was only if they could keep Claxton Hills off the scoreboard.

The Lancers didn't score again, but it didn't matter. Faust led his team on a sixty-eight-yard drive that stalled at the Grant twenty. Claxton's kicker shanked a field goal attempt, but Grant got the ball back with just over two minutes remaining.

The game ended a few plays later, with Brendan Clark dragging half the opposing defense across midfield. Even most of the Claxton faithful gave him a standing ovation when Hammond and Phillips helped the exhausted Eagle to his feet.

Then the Claxton fans left the stands and poured onto the field. Cody stood on the sidelines and watched the throng bobbing up and down. Occasionally, a hat, a scarf, or even a shoe, flew up from the celebration.

The Claxton Hills public address announcer proclaimed that he had “a very important reminder,” but as he delivered the message, his voice became progressively shriller, faster, and more distorted until all Cody could decipher was the occasional “future state champion Lancers!”

He looked around for Pork Chop who, at one point in the fourth quarter, had shared his plan to track down the Claxton defensive end and renew their grudge match. Cody said a silent prayer of thanks when he saw Chop standing alone on the all-weather track that circled the field.

“Check that out, Chop,” he said, pointing to the celebration still buzzing on the field. “Think that'll be us someday?”

“No,” Chop said flatly.

Cody rolled his eyes. “C'mon, big man. I know it hurts to lose. But we have three more seasons to get where those guys are now.”

Chop turned to him, eyes narrowed. “I can count, Code. But
we
aren't ever going to be out there like that.”

Cody stepped back, rocked by the force, the certainty, of his friend's proclamation. “How can you say that?” he asked.

“Because,” came the answer, “I'm moving away. Far away.”

Chapter 5

Pulled Apart

I
t's been a long time since we've done this,” Blake Randall said, settling into a chair behind his desk. “That might be a good sign—maybe you're not having as many life challenges right now. But I have to say, with everything that's going on in your life, that's a little hard to believe.”

Cody exhaled slowly. “Yeah. I know it's all a bit much for me to deal with. I mean, Chop moving away? That's like taking a baseball bat to the stomach. And the wedding at the end of the week? Well, that's kinda like—being hunted down by a pack of wolves or something. You keep running, but you know, eventually, they're going to catch you.”

Cody, sitting on a metal folding chair facing Blake's desk, realized he had been directing his words to the infamously ugly carpet in his youth pastor's office. He lifted his head. Blake was nodding slowly, giving him that familiar understanding smile.

“It's amazing, Cody, the changes life throws at us sometimes. It seems like things happen that will overwhelm us, even ruin our lives.”

Cody rested his elbows on his knees, then let his chin drop into his hands. “Having Pork Chop as my best friend for all these years has been a gift from God; I have no doubt about that. I don't know how I would have survived my mom's death without him. And he's helped with this whole marriage thing too. Even though I still hate that it's going to happen—when he makes jokes about it and stuff—that helps me keep it in perspective, I guess.”

“He's a good friend, Cody. No doubt about it. You're blessed.”

“I
was
blessed,” Cody corrected Blake.

Blake was waving his forefinger from side to side. “That's not true. Don't discount all of the years you've been best friends. And don't think it's over just because he
might
move. You said yourself it's not definite. Besides, Tennessee isn't the end of the world, you know. You have the phone. You have email. Pretty soon you'll have a driver's license. Maybe we'll take a road trip someday.”

“Maybe,” Cody muttered.

Blake cleared his throat. “Well, enough about that for now. Let's talk about the wedding.”

Cody stood suddenly. “You know what? Let's not. I just don't think I can talk about that right now, B. It kills me every time I think about it. Look, I know changes happen in life. I'm just not ready for
this
change.” He turned for the door. He expected Blake to jump up and try to stop him. Instead, he heard only a brief, muttered sentence. He wheeled to face Blake again.

“Did you say something?”

“Not to you.”

Cody cocked his head. “Uh, there's no one else in the room. Unless you're keeping a hamster in your desk drawer or something.”

Blake smiled. “You're forgetting someone.”

Cody returned the smile with a sheepish one of his own. “So you were praying—about what? That I'd grow up and quit being so selfish? That I'd quit mopin' around?”

“Nah, Code. I just prayed a verse for you.”

“You gonna recite it for me?”

“I don't think so. It's Numbers 6, verses 24 through 26. Why don't you go look it up when you get home.”

Cody tapped a forefinger on his bottom lip. “Numbers? I don't think I know any cool verses from Numbers.”

Blake stood. His eyes met Cody's. “You will soon.”

Cody sat on his bed flipping through the Old Testament. “Numbers, huh?” he said. “I thought that book just had a bunch of laws and genealogies and stuff. Or maybe I'm thinking of Leviticus.”

He made it all the way to Ruth before he realized he had gone too far. He backtracked and finally found the verses: “The L
ORD
bless you and keep you; the L
ORD
make his face shine upon you and be gracious to you; the L
ORD
turn his face toward you and give you peace.” The words rang familiar. Pastor Taylor occasionally closed his sermons with them.
I never knew that prayer was right out of the Bible,
Cody thought.
I thought it was from one of those pastor's manuals or something.

The screaming snapped Cody from his thoughts. Beth's voice was loud and shrill. “You're a big, foolish man!” she said. Or was it, “You're a pig—and a clueless man”?

Cody opened his door quietly. His dad was retorting now. “You were shamelessly flirting with our waiter all night. He must have thought I was your father.”

“I was just being friendly,” Beth spat back. “For Pete's sake, the guy looked about nineteen years old!”

“Closer to your age than I am.”

He has a point there
, Cody thought.

“Oh, so that's what this is all about. Your petty insecurity about your age. Look, Luke, I know you're forty-two. I can do the math. When I'm the age you are now, you'll be almost sixty. I understand that. I can live with that. The question is, can you?”

Cody leaned his head out of his doorway.
Don't want to miss Dad's response to this. That's one tough question.

But no answer came.

Cody heard footsteps clicking across the hardwood floor toward the front door. He heard the door open. “Well,” Beth said, sobbing now, “if you figure it out, call me. Preferably within the next three days, because I'm supposed to be getting married after that!” The door slam that followed was strong enough to knock something to the floor.
Probably one of Mom's Scripture plaques
, Cody reasoned
. Hope it's not the one that says “Blessed Are the Peacemakers.”

He slipped downstairs. His dad was pacing the living room. It reminded him of how Coach Curtis prowled the sidelines. Anxious. Nervous. Frustrated.

“Dad,” he said softly, “you all right?”

His father turned to him. At first there was fire in his pale blue eyes, but just as Cody prepared himself for an angry lecture, the fire died. “I'm sorry, Cody,” his dad sighed. “I know we must have upset you. Please forgive me. Us. I'm sure this is all rather shocking to you. You know, your mother and I rarely got into this kind of fight. The yelling, the slamming doors.”

Cody tried to force a smile. “Dad, I've been playing sports for some short-tempered coaches for years and years. I've heard plenty of yelling. A little more isn't going to traumatize me or anything.”

Cody's dad leaned against the front door. He appeared to be on the verge of sliding down to the floor. “I just don't know if I can take it, son. Beth is young and attractive. I'm neither young nor attractive. Then, tonight, she goes and flirts with this waiter, with his wrinkle-free face and dark black hair.”

“She was really flirting with him, Dad? Like, what was she doing?”

“Well, she kept calling him ‘homeboy' and smiling like she was doing a toothpaste commercial.”

Cody let his gaze drop to the floor. It
was
the ceramic Peacemakers plaque that had fallen, he noted. It had split into two almost equal pieces, right between the lines that said “Blessed Are” and “the Peacemakers.”

Cody closed his eyes and uttered a brief, silent prayer.
Well, it's not exactly stone tablets brought down from a mountaintop, but I get the message, Lord. Thanks.