The Great Quarterback Switch Read Online Free Page B

perfect spiral toward the right side of the end zone. A Scorpion
     was sprinting for the corner, an Eagle after him. The Eagle was number 80, Bob Riley.
    “Get it, Bob!” Michael shouted. “Get it!”
    Bob didn’t get it. But the Scorpion did. It was a touchdown.
    Ted Connors kicked for the point after, and it was good. Scorpions 7, Eagles 0.
    Michael felt a sinking in his breast, just as Tom must have felt. Getting behind byseven points so soon would drain a pound of energy out of anybody.
    Ted Connors kicked off for the Scorpions. The kick was long, shallow, and straight as a string. Tom caught it and bolted up
     the field, dodging a couple of Scorpions and taking advantage of good blocking by Don Cleaver and Stan Bates. Tom was fast
     and agile, an excellent broken-field runner. As Tom spun this way and that to avoid would-be tacklers, Michael again pictured
     himself in Tom’s place. As fast as Tom was, Michael knew that he was even faster. That he
had been
faster before the accident. If he could be in Tom’s place now—
    He concentrated and wished hard on the exchange, forgetting that he was in a wheelchair as he tried to tune in on Tom’s thoughts,
     and Tom’s moves.
    He hardly noticed it when he began tosweat. The Eagles had the ball on their forty-six-yard line, and Tom was calling signals. The ball was snapped. Tom took it,
     faded back, looked for a receiver, and then heaved a long pass down the left side of the field. Tom watched the soaring ball;
     Michael watched it. Michael’s heart pounded. He hoped that the throw wasn’t too far out of reach of Bob Riley, the intended
     receiver.
    The ball sailed like a gliding bird. It came down at the end of its arc and dropped into Bob’s outstretched hands. Michael
     thought his heart was going to stop as the ball slipped out of Bob’s hands, bounced up, flipped a couple of times, and then
     was drawn back again into the security of Bob’s arms.
    “Good go, Bob!” Michael yelled. “Now, run, man! Run!”
    He was pounding his fist in the air as he watched Bob sprint down the field, a Scorpionon his tail. But Bob, a long-legged kid who was as fast as they came, kept widening the gap between himself and the would-be
     tackler.
    And then Bob was in the end zone, slowing down as he circled around the goalposts, the ball raised high over his head. It
     was a touchdown! The Eagles’ fans roared and cheered. Some whistled.
    Michael raised his fists in triumph. “Way to go, guys!” he shouted.
    Vince kicked for the extra point. It just cleared the bar. 7-7.
    The teams lined up again for the kickoff. Vince kicked. Ted Connors caught the end-over-end liner, ran up to the Scorpions’
     thirty-four-yard line, and was tackled.
    Terry Fisher called signals, took the snap, handed it off to Nibbs McCay. Nibbs blasted through right tackle for five yards.
    On the next play, Lumpy Harris movedbefore the ball was in play. It was a five-yard penalty.
    Great,
Michael thought, socking the armrests of his wheelchair in disgust. A first down for the Scorpions.
    He suddenly thought of Ollie Pruitt, and glanced back to look at him. He was startled as he saw Ollie looking directly at
     him, as if Ollie knew that he, Michael, was going to turn and look at him at that same instant.
    Ollie’s lips moved. “Have faith,” they seemed to say.
    Michael nodded, and looked away.
    The ball was spotted on the Scorpions’ forty-four-yard line. In three plays they got it to the Eagles’ twenty-eight.
    First down and ten.
    The Scorpions were moving, and they seemed to be unstoppable.
    Terry called signals. Michael, watching intently, anticipated a running play. It wasn’tcalled. Terry got the snap and dropped back, looking for a receiver.
    Michael saw him first. It was Eddie Stone— Stoney— running down the right side of the field. There appeared to be no one near
     him.
    Get him, Tom! Get him!
Michael screamed to himself.
    His body pulsed, aching to move. Every fiber in his arms and