Undercover Tailback (5 page)

“Ninety-eight-point-six. I swear, it’s the only
normal thing about you, Parker,” she joked. “Now, get yourself a drink of water, and back to class with you.”

Parked decided the best watercooler to quench his thirst would be the one near the locker room.

It was a lucky choice.

The watercooler was halfway between the equipment room and Coach Isaac’s office. As Parker bent over to take a drink, someone
came out of the coach’s office in a big hurry. That someone was wearing a gray hooded sweatshirt and was dangling something
dark and mysterious from one hand.

Parker swallowed a mouthful of water. It almost made him choke for real.

Then he took off after the mysterious stranger, who had just turned the corner into the main corridor. This time there was
no after-school crowd. Everyone was still in class.

He had a clear shot and thought of tackling Mr. Sweatshirt. Instead, he tried to grab him from behind.

The next thing he knew, he was sitting on the
floor with an aching arm and a sore rump … staring up at Joni!

“You?” he exclaimed.

“You!” she cried. “What were you trying to do, anyhow?”

“I … I didn’t know it was you. I didn’t recognize you,” he tried to explain.

“Oh, you just go around grabbing at any girl alone in a corridor,” she said angrily. “Good thing we learn about self-defense
in gym class.”

“You learned it well,” said Parker, rubbing his arm. He got up and brushed himself off. “Listen, I can explain everything.
Just tell me one thing. What were you doing in the coach’s office with a camera?”

“Parker, you are dumb.” Joni laughed. “This is my calculator,” she said, waving it at him. “We just got through adding up
our gymnastics scores, and Ms. Appleton asked me to drop them off. She wants Coach Isaac to see how well we’re doing. But
what are you doing out of class?”

Boy, do I feel stupid, thought Parker.

“Joni, I’m really sorry,” he said. “It’s a long
story. I’ll see you at lunch and tell you everything.”

He did.

Seated at the far end of the cafeteria, he told her all about the incident a few days ago.

“That mysterious stranger could have been anyone,” she pointed out. “Practically everyone in this school owns one of those
sweatshirts!”

“I know,” he groaned. “Just makes it harder. But I still think it was someone who turned those pictures over to the enemy.”

“Parker, this isn’t the Third World War,” she said. “What do you mean ‘the enemy?’ ”

“The Leopards! Joni, I swear they were in on every one of our plays. We didn’t have a chance,” he said.

“It couldn’t have been just a bad day?”

“No way,” he insisted. “No, there’s a spy in our midst, I’m telling you. And if we don’t find him —”

“Or her,” Joni corrected him.

“Right. Whoever it is could do a lot of damage.”

Joni glanced around the cafeteria. She pushed her potato chips to one side of her plate and looked up.

“How do you know it wasn’t someone on your own team?” she asked. “After all, any one of the guys would have a good reason
to be in the coach’s office. Maybe someone forgot a play and needed to have a look at it.”

“But with a camera?”

“You thought my calculator was a camera,” she reminded him.

“No, it was a camera. I’m sure of it. I saw that automatic flash gizmo gleaming. That’s how I know what it was.”

“You’re absolutely positive?” she asked.

“Uh-huh, and I just wonder if someone didn’t sell those pictures to the Leopards. Or to the Mob,” he went on.

“Oh, boy, Parker, there you go.” Joni sighed. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole story is just another one of your … your
…
stories!
”

“C’mon, Joni,” he said. “I was only trying to
come up with a reason someone would be taking pictures of the coach’s playbook.”

Joni leaned back in her chair, folded her arms, and scrutinized Parker. “And every single word you told me is the truth?”
she said.

“The whole truth and nothing but the truth.”

“Well, even I have to admit that it sounds suspicious,” she agreed. “But I’m still a little foggy on the … uh … motive.”

“What do you mean?”

“What did the Leopards need your plays for? Didn’t they have any of their own?”

“Joni! Come on, think about it. Of course they didn’t
use
our plays themselves. But their defense knew what our offense was going to do. That’s how they were able to mow us down,”
he said angrily. “That has to be it.”

“Okay, okay,” she said, nodding. “So let’s just say that someone sneaked into the coach’s office —”

“A guy
or
a girl.” He smiled.

“Right. And that someone took pictures of the
plays. Hey” — suddenly she stopped — “why didn’t they just make photocopies? Would have been a lot easier.”

“I thought of that,” he said. “But that would have meant taking the playbook out of the office, getting the copies made with
nobody watching, and then putting it back without anyone noticing. Too complicated. Too risky.”

“That makes sense,” she admitted. “And that’s how you lost the game with the Leopards. Well, that’s that, I guess. Nothing
you can do about it now.”

“Unless it wasn’t just a one-time thing,” he said. “Maybe someone is going to steal our plays again.”

“You mean the Leopards are going to sell those plays to someone else? I don’t get it.”

He explained that Coach Isaac came up with a few new plays for each game. They weren’t all that different, of course. Some
were just simple variations. But anyone who played football knew that old plays weren’t worth that much. You had to have the
new ones.

“So I think that the spy, or whatever you want to call it,” he said, “is going to keep at it.”

“Couldn’t you tell the coach to keep his play-book locked up?” asked Joni. “I mean, if I wanted to, I could have taken it
off his shelf and shot some pictures — with my calculator!” She grinned widely.

“That’s not funny, Joni,” he said. “This is serious stuff, and if you’re not interested —”

“I am, Parker!” she said. “But what can I do?”

“Just keep your eyes and ears open,” he said. “I’m going to keep a watch on the coach’s office, just like I’ve been doing.”

“All right. Just be careful,” she said. “Oh, and one more thing.”

“What’s that?” he said.

“I’ll help you any way I can if … if you help me,” she said.

“How?”

“Stop by the library after practice and give me a hand studying for my science test.”

“What’s it on?”

“Take one guess!”

“Reptiles?”

“You win the prize, Parker!”

That afternoon, the polished oak library table was almost covered with books. Several were open, showing pictures of one amphibious
creature after another.

Parker explained the minute difference between two types of lizards as Joni rubbed her eyes.

“So you see,” he explained, “there’s a real family resemblance between these guys and you-know-what.”

Joni laughed. “Gators! Of course!”

He reached into his pocket and took out his lucky gator replica. It looked just like the one in the coach’s office, only smaller.

“Yep,” he said. “And this is the little baby I used to point out a few things to my science class. Now, just take a look at
this tail. And these teeth! Isn’t he a beaut?”

“Parker, I really think you’re obsessed. You’d
probably shoot me if I bought a pair of alligator shoes. Why are you so nuts about gators?”

“Well, it started with my dad,” he explained. “See, he played for the Gators, and he might have even turned pro, only he got
this knee injury —”

His explanation was interrupted by the heavy tread of some new arrivals in the library.

Spike Newton, Cris Muldoon, and Mitch Crum flopped themselves down at the next table.

“Well, if it isn’t the Headless Tailback, playing with his little toy,” said Cris.

“Naw, he’s got a head — he just left it on the bench —,” Mitch started to say.

Cris interrupted, “Naw, in his locker.”

“Nope,” sneered Spike. “He gave it to his little sister to take home for him.”

“You’re real funny, guys,” said Parker.

“Yeah, a million laughs,” added Joni.

“Now, what do we have here?” said Mitch, dragging his chair closer. “Could this be the secret weapon for the legendary Gators,
the only
college team worth watching according to the expert Parker Nolan?”

“Could that be Parker Nolan, son of the legendary Gators fullback?” added Spike.

“Who would have been an All-Star if —,” Cris began, but Joni cut him off.

“I’ve had it with you knuckleheads,” she announced. “
I
have a test coming up.”

“Come on,” said Parker, getting up from the table. “I’ll go over the material on the way home.”

The two of them started to leave.

“Oh, Parker,” called Mitch after them. “Do you have all your toys?”

Parker didn’t bother to reply. But he patted his pocket to make sure the little gator was there.

“Morons,” muttered Joni once they were outside.

“Iguana brains,” said Parker.

“Isn’t that good? Aren’t iguanas smart?”

“Not as smart as gators,” Parker said with a chuckle.

F
or the next few days, Parker saw hooded school sweatshirts everywhere he looked. Five kids in his own homeroom wore them,
including Cris and Spike.

One morning he noticed someone suspicious running out of the principal’s office. It turned out to be some kid who was late
for gym class.

Later on, another likely suspect showed up in his music class. This time, he found out that the kid had just been too slow
to get dressed after gym!

There ought to be a rule that you can’t go around the school in a sweatshirt, Parker thought as he sat by himself in the back
of the school
bus. And then, just as fast, he shook his head. That’s not the problem, anyhow.

He just had to catch the spy in the act.

But how? He muddled over several methods of spying.

When Melissa’s best friend, Sally, got off the bus, Melissa moved into the empty seat next to him.

“I smell wood burning,” she announced. “Parker, you must be thinking!”

“Cute, Melissa, very cute,” he said.

“All right, Parker,” she said. “I was just kidding. What’s going on? Are you still getting grief about your helmet?”

“No, it’s not that.” He sighed. “I just know I saw someone doing something wrong, you know, committing a crime. But I can’t
figure out how to prove it, and besides, no one believes me.”

“Poor Parker,” said Melissa. “It’s not as easy as it is on TV, is it?”

“No. But hey — maybe I can get some clues that way,” he said. “Thanks, Melissa, you just might have helped.”

“Really?”

“Scout’s honor,” he said.

“Parker! You were never a scout!”

“Parker? What are you doing watching TV before dinner?” asked Mrs. Nolan. She had just gotten home from her part-time job
in the town’s biggest law office. “Is that some program you’re watching for school?”

“No, Mom,” he replied. “Just some old detective shows.”

“Not for me.” She sighed. “I get enough crime at work. You wouldn’t believe some of our cases.”

“Oh, yeah?” Parker said, suddenly interested. “Does your office deal with a lot of theft and espionage?”

“Theft, yes.” Mrs. Nolan smiled. “Espionage is more in the line of the federal government.”

“What about stealing secrets?” he went on.

“Well, we have had a few corporate cases that involved stolen designs,” she said.

“That’s the kind of thing I mean,” he said. “What happened? How did they catch the thief?”

“Red-handed, as I recall,” Mrs. Nolan said. “Someone came back early from a business trip. He found the thief making off with
drawings of a new machine that had just been approved for a trial run.”

“What happened to the thief?”

“It hasn’t gone to trial yet. Why are you so interested, Parker? You’re not thinking about a life of crime, are you?”

“Naw, Mom, come on.” He grinned. “Believe me, I’m on the right side of the law.”

A lot of people don’t believe I saw a crime, Parker thought. I have to prove they’re wrong.

The next day, he doubled his effort to keep an eye on the coach’s office door.

And so did Joni. That afternoon, they bumped into each other by the watercooler next to the gym.

“Seen anything lately?” he asked between gulps of water.

“Nothing. How about you?”

“Nope.”

“Oh, well, I have to go now,” she said. “By the way, thanks for the help.”

“Help?”

“My science test. Reptiles? Remember? I got an A-plus,” she called over her shoulder.

He was glad to hear some good news. Things hadn’t been so cheerful during football practice lately.

The loss to the Leopards shouldn’t have been that big a deal. The Kudzus had lost games before. But in those cases, it had
been easy to see what had gone wrong.

Turnovers. Missed blocks. Plays forgotten. Penalties. There was always something specific to work on afterward.

But the only thing anyone could say about the Leopards game was that they had been “a little bit off.”

So each afternoon, the Kudzus had been practicing harder and harder.

And maybe Parker had been trying too hard. He pushed to make up for being a little slow. As a result, he was sometimes a little
too fast.

Tweet!

The whistle would blast in his ear.

“Offside!” Coach Isaac had called to him during more than one practice scrimmage. “Parker, wait for the signal!”

The coach hadn’t bought his story about someone stealing plays before the last game. But just as he always did, he had put
together a new batch of plays for their next game.

Several of those plays had put the ball into Parker’s hands. He’d had to learn the play names and numbers, the signals, and
the moves. It was a lot of work.

Once in a while everything had come together. He’d remember exactly what he was supposed to do — and so would everyone else.
He’d find himself carrying the ball into enemy territory and down the field. It felt great.