Raiders Night Read Online Free Page A

“Romo!” Scared, she jumped off the bed. Junie followed to comfort her.
    Dad stuck his head into the room. “Breakfast, let’s go.”
    â€œGet outa here.” Matt forced his eyes to focus on the clock. “It’s eight twenty.”
    â€œTime to get up.”
    â€œSaturday.”
    â€œI’m going to be gone all day—”
    â€œSo what?” He was waking up and his head hurt.
    â€œâ€”and I want to talk to you before you leave for camp.”
    â€œWhat about?”
    Dad took one long step into the room and reached for Matt’s sheet. Romo howled. He had stepped on her tail. “Why is that dumb dog always in my way?”
    â€œNot dumb,” said Junie. He hugged her.
    â€œOkay,” said Matt quickly. He knew where this could go. “Be right down.”
    Dad stomped out of the room and down the stairs. Junie looked up at Matt. He and Romo both had hurt looks in their eyes.
    â€œHe didn’t mean it,” said Matt. Sure he did. “Go on down—be right there.”
    He closed his eyes, waiting for his head to quitthreatening to roll off his neck. He had gotten home very late, after the sky had started to lighten. They had driven around, talking. The girl was a talker, although he couldn’t remember what they had talked about. They had stopped to get some food, then parked somewhere. She had soft hands all right, and a soft mouth. He couldn’t remember her name.
    He opened his eyes and got up slowly. The room shifted, the ceiling tilting down, the floor slanting up. Jerry Rice smiled at him from the big poster on the wall. No. 80, the greatest wide receiver of all time. Been wearing his number since middle school. Jerry must have been hungover a few mornings. Maybe not, the shape he stayed in for so long.
    In big print over his signature, it read:
    The biggest enemy of best is good.
    If you’re satisfied with what’s good,
    you’ll never be the best.
    By the time Matt got downstairs, Dad was at the kitchen table shoveling in waffles and glaring at Junie and Romo. Mom had on her bright and perky TV-Mom look. Dad must really be pissed. “Waffles or eggs, Matt?”
    â€œJust a shake.” He wasn’t hungry. “And some coffee?”
    â€œScrambled eggs,” said Junie.
    â€œWaffles,” said Dad. “They’re mixed already.”
    â€œIt’s no trouble,” said Mom. She gave Dad a tight smile.
    â€œThis isn’t a diner,” he said. He turned to Matt. “I’m thinking of doing a meal at camp.”
    â€œWhat for?” That woke Matt up.
    â€œThe boys like a break from camp chow. Remember the barbecue?”
    Two years ago. He was a sophomore. It was harder to stand up to Dad then, keep him out of his space. “Do it when we come back.”
    â€œToo many other people around, it’s not a team thing.”
    â€œYou’re not on the team.” That came out before he thought about it.
    â€œWaffles coming up,” chirped Mom.
    Dad’s face had lost expression, tightening into the bland mask he wore when he was getting angry. Eyes got cold. “I want to do the meal after the boys get settled. But before Raider Pride Night.”
    â€œHow come?”
    â€œThat night can get hairy.” Dad grinned. “You know which night that is?”
    Last night of camp, everybody knows that, jerkoff. “Dunno.”
    â€œBig-shot captain doesn’t know?”
    â€œAsk Coach.”
    â€œRamp probably knows.”
    â€œAsk him.” He felt the anger rise.
    â€œYou got a real ’tude this morning.”
    â€œIt’s too early.”
    â€œOnly if you’re up all night.”
    Mom said, “Larry, it wasn’t a school night.”
    â€œIt was a football night,” said Dad.
    â€œA softball night,” said Junie as he patted Romo. She was whimpering.
    â€œCan’t you shut that dog up? Bad enough she’s dumb, she’s a