Revenge of the Bully Read Online Free Page B

first time wearing football pads. Besides what my dad had brought me, I had on a helmet, shoulder pads, rib protectors, hip pads, a tailbone pad in the back of my pants, thigh pads, kneepads, and a mouth guard. “That’s all you got?” I had asked Coach Manuel. I liked the idea of being covered in a modern-day suit of armor—especially when I got to the field and saw I was the smallest kid on it.
    â€œRodney, this is awesome!” Josh barked at me. “I can’t wait!” His eyes sparkled from inside his helmet. Now there was a football player. While he might have been younger than some of the other guys, he was one of the biggest.
    â€œAll right, take a knee over here!” Coach Laimbardi called out. We all huddled around. I could feel sets of eyes staring at me through face masks. Some were friendly. Many were not. Coach Laimbardi cleared his throat. “As most of you know, we’ve been having a tough time the past few years. We haven’t had a winning season in over twelve years. Even worse, we haven’t beaten . . .” He paused and his face scrunched up into a wretched expression. “We haven’t beaten Windham in seventeen years.”
    â€œEighteen,” Coach Manuel corrected him.
    Laimbardi scowled at us for a minute. “You hear that? Eighteen years of misery! Whoever said winning isn’t everything never played football. That numbskull certainly didn’t have to endure the jokes and ridicule of Coach Bill Belicheat. He’s always . . . picking on me.” He shook his head and looked at his feet. I thought I saw his lip quiver. His eyes looked damp. “I just want to beat Belicheat and Windham once before I retire.” After a moment his voice sounded strong again. “I was beginning to believe I never would beat them, but yesterday I saw something wondrous. Something that told me the black cloud that’s been hanging over Garrettsville might finally be lifting.”
    I noticed Josh glance up at the sky with a confused look on his face.
    Coach Laimbardi, who had stopped in back of where we were kneeling, placed his hands on Josh’s and my shoulder pads. He turned to the rest of the team and announced, “Let me introduce you to our new starting backfield—Rathbone and Dumbrowski. They have just the kind of toughness we’ve been lacking around here!” Thank God he didn’t notice my knees beginning to shake under all that padding. “I can’t wait to see them in action,” he continued. “In fact, let’s not wait any longer. Now, I know we don’t scrimmage the first week . . .”
    That’s good , I thought to myself.
    â€œ. . . but I’m willing to make an exception. We have enough guys here today from last year to run some plays. Let’s see what the new guys Rathbone and Dumbrowski can do. Trevor, take the defense out to the twenty-yard line and let’s get started.”
    I watched Trevor’s helmet nod. Then, with a wicked look, he pointed at me and mouthed the words, “You’re mine.”
    I had an urge to puke but pictured bits of last night’s fancy French dinner getting caught in my face mask and managed to keep it down. In a fog, I followed the other offensive players as we made our way onto the striped field. I was about to get crushed and torn apart. Noticing several small groups of students filing into the stands did little to make me feel better. A familiar voice rang out from one of the spectators. “Go get ’em, Rodney!” It was Rishi, sitting with my dad. He waved and held up his phone. “Don’t worry, this takes great video!”
    I walked into the offensive huddle. Apart from Josh, the other faces were unfamiliar. I was relieved to see they weren’t menacing. In fact, many of the guys smiled down at me through their face masks. A bunch of them were as big as Josh and I assumed they were the offensive line. One of the