Betting Game Read Online Free Page A

I’m watching him. His eyes flick from face to face, then land hard on Alex.
    There’s going to be trouble.

Chapter Eight
    The guys dress and get out, leaving Alex with Gil. What a mess.
    The locker room floor is a disaster too. Water bottles. Garbage. Gil’s new uniforms.
    Alex looks around and sighs. I bet he feels like tossing his captain’s armband on the pile.
    I start picking up the water bottles. When he tries to help, I shake my head. “I got it. You go ahead. I’ll be out to warm you up in a few.”
    “Thanks, Jack.”
    Keepers warm up with a partner. I’ve been filling in since our backup keeper broke his ankle. Coach says I’m his utility player—one size fits all. Alex calls me his backup backup.
    Alex is already in the net when I walk on the field. But why is Gil with him? Uh-oh.
    Strikers suck at warming up a keep. They think it’s a shooting drill.
    But it’s really a catching drill—the keeper is supposed to stop the ball.
    Gil lines up balls at the edge of the box. Then he winds up.
    Shot after blistering shot. One corner. The other corner. Bam! Bam! Bam!
    It’s like the YouTube video. But it’s not cool this time.
    Alex dives right and left. He leaps up to the crossbar. There’s no time between shots to reset. He can’t even get up before another ball whizzes in.
    I don’t know why Alex doesn’t just walk away. I would.
    Right after I stuffed a soccer ball down Gil’s throat.
    The guys stop warming up to watch. They’re buzzing. There’s no doubt about it. He’s good.
    And he’s still fighting mad.
    Probably because Alex is stopping some of his shots. And whenever he does, we cheer.
    Coach blows the whistle and calls us in. I wonder how long he’s been standing there. I bet he didn’t miss much.
    The team makes a circle. It opens for Gil but doesn’t close around him.
    He stands in the gap, eyes front, legs apart and arms crossed. Give him a rifle and a uniform and he’d be G.I. Joe.
    “I see you’ve all met our new striker, Gil Joseph,” says Coach.
    Gil Joseph, right! His name really is G.I. Joe. I snicker.
    “Something you want to add, Jack?”
    “Uh, no, Coach. Sorry for interrupting,” I mumble.
    Alex joins us, and he fills a gap beside Gil.
    I meet his eyes across the circle. What an idiot. You okay? An imperceptible nod.
    G.I. Joe stares at me, and I stare right back. Listened in, did you? Good .
    “Jack?”
    I face forward again. “Yes, Coach.”
    “Sure you have nothing to say?”
    I start to shake my head, then freeze. “I mean—I’m sure, Coach.”
    “Do a lap and figure it out.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    I bend down to tie up my shoelace.
    I hear Coach say to Alex, “The goalkeeping coach wants to work with you today. Take a break. He’ll be out shortly.”
    “Okay, Coach.” Alex mops his face with his sleeve and limps over to the bench.
    As I jog away, Coach says, “The rest of you, grab a partner and loosen up. Properly. I’ll be right back.”
    I knew he was watching. Coach doesn’t miss a thing.
    Gil is still standing there when I finish my lap. No partner. He either got the cold shoulder or he’s waiting for me. I’m stuck with him.
    Then Danny breaks away from a group of three and waves me over. I lope past Gil without saying a word. That’ll teach you.
    I turn around to see how G.I. Joe likes the silent treatment.
    But I never get the chance. Alex stands up to work with him.
    Now I’m mad at both of them.
    That’s why I share the G.I. Joe joke with Danny. He thinks it’s so funny, he spreads it around. By the end of practice, everyone is calling him G.I. Joe or Soldier Boy behind Coach’s back.
    Everyone but Alex.

Chapter Nine
    The locker room is pretty quiet after practice. Alex doesn’t say much, even when we’re the only two left. But that sure changes on the way home.
    “I had to do something. He didn’t exactly get the warmest welcome.”
    “I get that he was mad, Alex. But you take that out on an empty net. Not your keep! Not