Undercover Tailback (7 page)

He figured he’d just have to keep at it. He
decided to add new information every day. Whenever he picked up the slightest clue, he changed the odds. This meant stopping
by Mrs. Nolan’s office every day after practice.

One afternoon, he came in almost breathless with excitement. Joni had just told him that she’d seen Fabian deRosa coming out
of the FotoQuick shop. A solid clue!

He rushed to change the odds next to Fabian’s name. Then he punched in every combination of keys he knew. But the computer
just gave him the same alphabetized list every time.

Later that day, Joni called to say that her friend Gloria told her that Fabian had bought the nicest photo album for his mother’s
birthday. With a sigh, Parker changed back the odds after Fabian’s name.

“Isn’t this secret math project taking a lot of time?” asked Mrs. Nolan during dinner a few days later. “I don’t seem to hear
anything about History or Science or any of your other subjects.”

Parker stared at the vanilla ice cream melting away on the pecan pie in front of him.

“I’ll eat that if you don’t want it, Parker,” offered Melissa.

“Parker? You didn’t answer me,” said Mrs. Nolan. “Are you all right?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” he said, grabbing the pie plate back from Melissa. He started gobbling the ice cream. “Just have a lot on
my mind. Big project for the science fair.”

“The science fair was last month,” said Melissa.

“Next year’s fair!” snapped Parker. “Can’t start too soon.”

“Paaaarkerrrr.” His mother frowned. “What’s going on?”

“Okay, you might as well know, too,” he said. “I’m pretty sure I saw someone stealing something.”

“Did you report it?” asked Mrs. Nolan.

“I tried to, but no one believed me,” Parker explained. “I didn’t see who it was and … well, there’s no real absolutely positive
proof, but I’m sure of it. And if I can just find out who
it is, then, well, then everyone will see that I’ve been telling the truth.”

“I’m sure that’s important, Parker,” said his mother. “But you have to be very careful about accusing someone unless there’s
no doubt whatsoever.”

“I know that, Mom,” he said.

“And your first responsibility is to your school-work. Playing Dick Tracy is one thing, but you mustn’t neglect your studies.”

But he was. In class, when he was called on, he sometimes didn’t even know what the question was.

Even worse, his weekly tests were being affected. Math was usually his best subject. But at the end of that week, he got such
a low test score, it brought his average way down.

“I’m sorry, Parker,” said Ms. Cobertson as she handed him the test after class, “but your average is below the passing level.
You cannot participate in athletics. At least not until you
bring up your average. I’ll have to leave a note for Coach Isaac in his mailbox.”

Parker was stunned. The Kudzus were scheduled to play their biggest rival, the Pittstown Piranhas, that Saturday. He had to
play. He couldn’t miss the most important game of the year.

Besides, it was a chance to get a close look at the team in action. He was sure to pick up more clues.

He stared down at the math test with the failing grade. It was the worst mark he’d ever gotten. How was he going to explain
it to his mother? To the coach? To everyone?

“So, is Parker Nolan the math genius everyone thinks he is?”

The deep voice asking the question belonged to Huey Walker. He and Mitch Crum crowded around Parker’s desk, trying to see
the grade.

“Yeah, what did you get on that test?” asked Mitch.

“Leave me alone,” said Parker angrily. “Don’t be so nosy.”

“Hey, you guys, you expect him to tell you the truth?” Spike Newton called from the doorway. “How can you trust a guy who
lies — and steals?”

“Bug off!” Parker shouted. “All of you, just get off my case.”

They just won’t let up on anything, he thought. And wait until they hear I can’t play.

Then another thought occurred to him.

Who says anyone has to hear?

Ms. Cobertson said she was going to leave a note for the coach in his mailbox. But it was the last class of the day — and
it was Friday. The way the school delivered mail, Coach Isaac wouldn’t get anything until Monday.

No one said I have to tell him I can’t play, Parker thought. I don’t have to say anything to anyone.

And what’s the big deal about a stupid math test, anyway?

Especially since I think I know now who was in the coach’s office with the camera that day.

K
nowing who had done it was one thing. Proving it was another.

Short of catching the perp in the act again, Parker thought, there
has
to be a way to trip up the guilty individual.

That evening after supper, he tried to come up with a plan.

“Melissa, will you please stop shuffling those cards?” he asked. “I’m trying to concentrate.”

“Okay, Parker, I’ll put them away if you’re not interested in playing,” she said.

She reached over and slipped the deck into a small brown envelope with a clasp.

“Where’s their box?” he asked.

“Got lost,” she said. “This is just as good.”

Almost as good as the real thing, he thought.

Suddenly, his whole face lit up.

Oh, boy, he thought. What a great idea! But would it work?

He headed for the telephone.

“Hi, Joni? Got a minute? I want to talk something over with you. What do you think of this?”

It was bitter cold that Saturday. Gray clouds hovered over the field.

Parker hunkered down on the sideline to watch the coin toss.

“We might even get some snow today,” he heard Rook Stubbs say.

“Brrrrr,” said Coach Isaac, clapping his gloved hands. “Better make sure that drinking water doesn’t freeze.”

The Kudzus won the toss and elected to receive. The Piranhas’ placekicker booted the ball high into the darkening sky. But
it didn’t travel very far downfield. Perry McDougal, the Kudzus’ backup offensive running back, was on the special team that
received. He was in the clear
for a moment as the ball came toward him. He looked like he was thinking about running it. Then a wall of Piranhas was suddenly
bearing down on him. Wisely, he signaled for a fair catch.

“Good going, Perry,” said Cris as the Kudzus’ regular offense came onto the field.

The eleven players gathered into a tight huddle, stomping to keep warm in the frosty air. As Spike started to speak, Parker
leaned way in, his elbows almost touching the ground. A yellow FotoQuick envelope dropped onto the frozen turf in front of
him.

“Whoops!” he said loudly.

He picked it up and made a big show of stashing it inside his uniform, under his protective padding.

“What’s that?” asked Huey.

“Oh, just some interesting pictures,” said Parker. He glanced around the huddle very mysteriously.

“Pictures?” asked Cris. “What kind of pictures? And what are you doing with pictures here?”

He sounded real bothered.

“I just found them in the locker room before the game,” Parker explained.

“Well, what did you bring them out here for?” sneered Moose.

“Remember what I told you during the game with the Leopards? How I saw someone with a camera coming out of Coach’s office?
Well, I finally figured out who that someone was.” He patted the pictures and smiled knowingly.

“How’d you figure that out?” asked Cris.

“Never mind,” said Parker.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” said Spike. “This is just another one of Parker’s stories.”

“Yeah, Tall-Tale Nolan strikes again,” added Fabian. “Come on, let’s play ball.”

“Okay, we’ll go with Thirty-two Red,” said Spike. “Let’s see if Parker can block as well as he talks.”

The new version of the old Thirty-two Grind called for a fake to Parker then a pass to Moose Brogan.

Spike crouched down behind Huey.

“Three! Zero! Two! Hike!” he yelled.

Before he could take two steps backward, the Piranhas had broken through the line. The play collapsed in a jumble of bodies
with Spike and the ball on the bottom.

The Kudzus’ quarterback brushed off the dirt.

With the rest of the offense gathered around, he announced, “We’d better keep it on the ground. Fabe, we’ll go with Super
Seventy-six.”

This was Coach Isaac’s version of an old Statue of Liberty play. Spike would raise his arm high, as if he were getting ready
to pass. Fabe would sweep by him, grab the ball, and then run for it.

For the play to work, though, Fabian had to make his block and then move fast.

They’d gone over it again and again in practice. And even after the Kudzus’ own defense had figured out the play, somehow
it usually worked.

This time it didn’t.

The minute Spike called the signals, the Piranhas
broke through the line. They were all over Fabian in seconds.

Spike had kept his wits about him. He decided to try to run with the ball, but half the Piranhas’ defense was ready for him.
They brought him down for a loss of five.

Third and fifteen.

After another failure to put a runner through the Piranhas’ line, the Kudzus were forced to give up the ball.

As the defense took over, Parker trotted off the field.

“What’s with those pictures, Parker?” Moose asked. “You going to let us see them?”

“Why should I?” said Parker. “You guys think you know everything.”

A few of the other guys asked him about the yellow envelope. Huey said he ought to “put up or shut up” about his claim that
they were pictures of the Kudzus’ plays.

“Let’s just watch the game, okay?” Parker said, turning his attention to the field.

The Piranhas’ quarterback threw a screen pass to his tight end. But a Kudzu linebacker cut him down the minute he started
to run. The impact shook the ball loose, and a Kudzu fell on it.

The turnover sent the Kudzus’ offense right back onto the field.

The ball was on the Piranhas’ thirty-five yard line.

“What a lucky break!” yelled Rook Stubbs. “Okay, you guys, go for it!”

“Parker? Fabian?” barked Spike in the huddle. “Are you guys ready to play some ball? We’re going to keep it on the ground.
You’ll have your work cut out for you.”

“Just try me,” said Parker.

“Me, too!” said the burly fullback.

“Okay, first let’s try an end-around. Number Seventy-two.”

This was Fabian’s play, and he made the most of it. Even though the Piranhas moved in on him, he managed to break through
for a gain of five yards.

It was all the yardage the Kudzus got. At everyone
of the following plays, they were stopped cold.

“Rats! That defense is reading us like
See Spot Run,
” snarled Cris as they came off the field.

“Yeah, only this Spot isn’t doing much running,” grumbled Moose.

Parker just shook his head.

The Piranhas got their own lucky break on the very first down. The quarterback passed to his wide receiver deep in Kudzu territory,
but the ball squirted out of his hands. It bounced behind him toward the goal line. The Piranhas’ tight end was in the right
place at the right time. He picked it up just inside the five-yard marker. A little screen pass put the Piranhas on the scoreboard.

The kick for the extra point was good. With the clock signaling the end of the first period, the score was Piranhas 7, Kudzus
0.

When the offense took over, Parker spoke up.

“Listen, you guys,” he said. “We can’t keep running these plays. They know them. I’m telling you, they know our signals.”

“So what do you expect us to do?” asked Cris. “Make up new plays?”

“No, just change signals,” said Parker.

“Like the pros?” asked Moose. “We’ve never practiced that kind of thing.”

“We can do it,” Parker insisted. “We can.”

He quickly outlined a simple plan. They would make the changes one play at a time.

“Don’t I have something to say?” snapped Spike. “We can’t do it. It’s going to be too hard to remember.”

“I think we ought to give it a try,” said Fabian. “I’m tired of banging my head against a wall.”

“I think it’s a good idea,” said Morris Comer, the usually silent left guard. “We have to do something.”

Spike hemmed and hawed.

Tripp, too, seemed doubtful.

But in the end, those who agreed with Parker were louder and stronger than those opposed. The doubters finally had to go along
with the idea.

The first time they tried it, Spike messed up
the signal. An offside penalty was called against the Kudzus.

“See, it isn’t going to work,” he said.

“Come on, Spike,” said Cris. “Give it a fair shot.”

They tried it again. And again, there was confusion. But this time, both sides got things mixed up — and it turned out well
for the Kudzus. They gained seven yards.

“Maybe that’s the way. Just keep messing up and see what happens,” joked Fabian back in the huddle.

“No, we have to get it straight,” insisted Parker.

Once more they tried the last-minute switch.

This time it worked like a precision engine.