Perfect Season Read online

  DEDICATION

  For the coaches and players of the Skaneateles 2011 football team and their 9–0 perfect season!

  CONTENTS

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  Chapter Sixty

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  Chapter Sixty-Five

  Chapter Sixty-Six

  Chapter Sixty-Seven

  Chapter Sixty-Eight

  Chapter Sixty-Nine

  Chapter Seventy

  Chapter Seventy-One

  Chapter Seventy-Two

  Chapter Seventy-Three

  Chapter Seventy-Four

  Chapter Seventy-Five

  Chapter Seventy-Six

  Chapter Seventy-Seven

  Chapter Seventy-Eight

  Chapter Seventy-Nine

  Chapter Eighty

  Chapter Eighty-One

  Chapter Eighty-Two

  Chapter Eighty-Three

  Chapter Eighty-Four

  Chapter Eighty-Five

  Chapter Eighty-Six

  Chapter Eighty-Seven

  Chapter Eighty-Eight

  Chapter Eighty-Nine

  Chapter Ninety

  Chapter Ninety-One

  Chapter Ninety-Two

  Chapter Ninety-Three

  Chapter Ninety-Four

  Chapter Ninety-Five

  Chapter Ninety-Six

  Chapter Ninety-Seven

  Chapter Ninety-Eight

  Chapter Ninety-Nine

  Chapter One Hundred

  Chapter One Hundred and One

  Chapter One Hundred and Two

  Chapter One Hundred and Three

  Chapter One Hundred and Four

  Chapter One Hundred and Five

  Chapter One Hundred and Six

  Chapter One Hundred and Seven

  Chapter One Hundred and Eight

  Chapter One Hundred and Nine

  Chapter One Hundred and Ten

  Chapter One Hundred and Eleven

  Chapter One Hundred and Twelve

  About the Author

  Also by Tim Green

  Back Ad

  Credits

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  CHAPTER ONE

  TROY’S MIND SPUN THE entire car ride to the school. He dug deep for an idea—any idea—that would give them a way out. The junior high and the high school stood side by side, two brick buildings that might have been prison cell blocks. Rusty chain-link fences surrounded them. The only things missing were barbed wire and some guard towers.

  “That’s disgusting.”

  “Troy.” His mom had her hands planted on the wheel of the VW Bug. “Don’t judge a book by its cover.”

  “Why do we have to do this?” The question exploded from his chest.

  She scowled at him. “Do I have to go through it again?”

  “I just don’t see how we can owe money when we don’t have any money.” Troy banged his head softly against the window.

  “The IRS doesn’t care that your . . . father”—she could barely say the word because, to her, the man was a snake—“put five million dollars into a criminal enterprise. They don’t care that the FBI seized every penny, and they don’t care about you going to a private school to play football. They care about us paying taxes on the money we had. They’re the I-R-S. They don’t have feelings.”

  They pulled around to the side of the school where the football field sat wedged between the parking lot and another chain-link fence holding back nothing but an empty lot grown over with crabgrass and old tires. Slung between two bleached telephone poles, the scoreboard read “VIS T RS” on one side and “OME” on the other.

  “See?” His mom pointed to the worn Astroturf covering the field. “It can’t be all bad? Artificial turf is good for a passing offense.”

  “That looks like a plastic rug from a crummy putt-putt golf place.” Troy frowned at the faded green field.

  “Hey, you get to play football,” his mom said.

  “Four wins in seven years?” Troy shook his head. “The other teams are playing football. These guys are playing hopscotch or something.”

  His mom parked the car and got out. “Look.”

  Troy spotted two men wearing construction vests and hard hats and a third—the tallest, skinniest man Troy could imagine—in a dark business suit in the far corner of the field. The man—who was tall enough to be an NBA player, maybe six foot nine—stood with his arms folded across his chest as he watched. One of the workers held a ten-foot stick in the corner of the end zone. The other—along with the tall man in the suit—walked across the field to a surveyor’s tripod mounted with a little yellow telescope.

  “What are they doing?” Troy asked.

  “Getting ready for an upgrade? Hey, maybe new bleachers. Maybe a whole new field. Look at the bright side, Troy. It’s easy to be grumpy.”

  In the guidance counselor’s office, Mr. Bryant could hardly say hello before he started asking football questions. “Can you really predict NFL plays? I mean, I know you signed a contract with the Jets and all. I just . . . I see you’re a very good math student. Is that part of how you do it? You know, I’m sorry. Really. You’re not here to talk about football.”

  “I’d rather talk about football than math,” Troy said.

  His mom rolled her eyes. “Troy’s a little disappointed at Summit’s football program, but he knows the purpose of school is education, not sports, Mr. Bryant.”

  Mr. Bryant blinked at her. “Well, honestly, I agree in part, but I’d still like to see our football program improve.”

  “I know the high school team really su—” Troy glanced at his mom’s frown. “. . . is bad. But what about the junior high team?”

  Mr. Bryant’s face grew eve
n longer. “Closest game last year was fifty-four to six against Union. Our starters scored against their fourth string. I hate to say it, but the program is like a fish on the beach, rotten from head to tail. You can smell it a mile away. People are starting to talk about dropping it because the stadium is falling apart and the school is going to have to spend some serious money to fix it.”

  “We saw someone out there with survey equipment.” Troy’s mom nodded her head in the direction of the field.

  Mr. Bryant gave her a puzzled look and scratched his neck. “I don’t know about that. Nothing’s been approved, I can tell you that.”

  “How can this guy who coaches even keep his job?” Troy asked.

  Mr. Bryant’s eyes darted at the office door and he lowered his voice. “It’s just his job. Every summer—they just did it two days ago—they post the position, and every year no one else applies, so it goes to Mr. Biondi. He’s the athletic director, so he feels like he has to do it. He doesn’t want it. He doesn’t even call himself ‘Coach.’ Honestly, the program is in bad shape. We barely have enough kids to field a team.”

  Mr. Bryant lowered his voice even more. “There’s some talk—you know, with budget crunches—about just dropping the program. The district business manager has been pushing for it, especially because of the cost for a new stadium, and people just don’t seem to be interested.”

  “No football?” Panic jolted Troy.

  CHAPTER TWO

  MR. BRYANT HELD UP a hand. “Well, it’s in the budget this year, but . . .”

  “There’s no such thing as a school without football.” Troy knew it couldn’t be possible.

  “Not in Georgia,” Mr. Bryant said, “but this is New Jersey. It actually happens.”

  “There’s no one in the entire district who can coach football and get things turned around?” Troy’s mom asked.

  Mr. Bryant put his fingers together and made a teepee in front of his chin. “Honestly, when I knew you were coming in, I couldn’t help thinking that maybe, just maybe, with your connections you might know someone who’d come here and coach the team. I mean, players are constantly retiring from the NFL. Sometimes they coach.” Mr. Bryant laughed. “A pipe dream, I know, but can you imagine if we got someone like that to turn things around?”

  Troy looked at his mom to see if she thought the counselor was for real.

  Mr. Bryant leaned forward. “Right, why do I care?”

  He pointed to a photo of a kid in a football uniform. “I think my son, Chance, might have some ability. He plays left tackle. I know you might not think it looking at me, but he’s a huge kid—takes after his mom’s side—and I’d like to see him in a better program than what we’ve got at Summit. But . . . this is where we live. There is a football powerhouse not too far from here—St. Stephen’s? But . . . well, you can’t imagine what it costs.”

  The mention of St. Stephen’s left Troy’s stomach flopping in his gut like a fresh-caught catfish. He was supposed to go to St. Stephen’s! That was before his father ruined everything. Now he was stuck in a run-down rental house at the end of a run-down street ready to attend a run-down public school with a rotten football team—or maybe no football team.

  Troy glanced at his mom. She tightened her lips.

  “Mom,” Troy said, “we know someone who could coach the team and do an awesome job, right?”

  “Seriously?” Mr. Bryant’s eyes widened.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “WHAT?” TROY’S MOM WRINKLED her face in confusion.

  “Mr. Bryant, do you know who Seth Halloway is?”

  “From the Falcons? The linebacker? I’m a Giants fan, but of course I know who Seth Halloway is.” Mr. Bryant grinned and nodded.

  “Oh, no.” Troy’s mom held up her hands.

  “Mom, he wants to coach. Look what he did with our junior league team.” Troy turned to Mr. Bryant. “We won a state championship with Seth.”

  “He wants to coach in the NFL, or college,” Troy’s mom said. She turned to Mr. Bryant. “No offense.”

  “Right, but it’s not happening for him,” Troy said. “I know. He’s been on about twenty interviews and the only thing he got is Furman saying he can ‘help out.’ They won’t even pay him. Those jobs are, like, impossible to get. But if he got some experience?”

  “In high school?” Troy’s mom asked.

  “Why not? It happens, doesn’t it?” Troy said.

  His mom turned to the counselor. “It’s too complicated, Mr. Bryant. I’m sorry. Let’s talk about classes. Taking Spanish is a good idea.”

  “Mom, can we at least—”

  His mom held up her hand. “Spanish.”

  Troy knew anything after the hand would be a waste of breath.

  They made Troy’s schedule. Mr. Bryant printed it out and handed it to him with a shrug. “It was just a thought.”

  They left and Troy’s mom offered to stop at Dairy Queen for ice cream sandwiches. Troy thought about saying no so that she would understand just how upset he was about everything, but he couldn’t hold out. The summer sun baked the blacktop outside the restaurant, but when they entered a blast of cool air greeted them. They got two DQ sandwiches and sat in a booth by the window, eating them, when a black Escalade pulled into the lot.

  “Oh, boy.” Troy could see that his mom saw who was in the vehicle, too. “What do we do now?”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “IT’S TY AND THANE,” Troy said as he watched his cousins get out of the Escalade. “I thought we were going to see them later.”

  “What do you mean, ‘What do we do now?’? We ask them to sit with us. Don’t be silly,” Troy’s mom said.

  “They know we moved in, but they don’t know where, Mom,” Troy said. “And they don’t know I’m going to Summit.”

  “Ty will be fine,” Troy’s mom said. “He’s a sweet boy.”

  Troy was flooded with dread as his cousins entered the diner.

  First came Ty, thirteen and a football player, like Troy. Troy never knew Ty existed until they met at the Super Bowl in Miami, and he learned that Ty’s mom was his dad’s older sister. Troy really liked Ty. Even though his cousin was on the quiet side, he gave Troy a good feeling. Tate McGreer, Troy’s best friend back in Atlanta—who was a girl—also said she got a good feeling from Ty, and that meant something since Tate was really good at reading people.

  Troy actually suspected that Ty had a thing for Tate. Troy could only suspect because Ty never talked about Tate; he could barely talk to her when they’d been together. Troy knew from Tate, though, that Ty texted her pretty regularly.

  People were recognizing Thane, Ty’s brother. He was an all-pro wide receiver for the Jets. Most people called him Tiger. He was six foot two and 230 pounds, ran like the wind, and had hands sticky as a frog’s tongue.

  “Hey, it’s Tiger Lewis!” one man shouted from the counter before his wife shushed him with a rolled-up newspaper.

  A dad and a little kid on their way out asked Thane to sign the kid’s Jets hat. Thane borrowed the wide-eyed waitress’s pen and signed the bill of the cap with a smile.

  Troy felt his mind whirling. He had no idea how to break the news about having to attend Summit after he and Ty had made elaborate plans with texts and on Facebook to become St. Stephen’s next dynamic duo on the football field. Troy was going to be QB with Ty as his top receiver. Even as they moved their things into the house on Cedar Street, Troy kept thinking things would somehow work out.

  “Ty is gonna kill me,” Troy said.

  But before he could come up with a plan, Thane and Ty started coming over to their booth.

  “Hey, you’re here!” Thane removed his sunglasses and smiled. “We’re looking forward to getting together tomorrow night. But, hey, welcome to New Jersey. Not as hot as Atlanta, right?”

  “Pretty close,” Troy’s mom said.

  Troy and his mom stood up and they all exchanged hugs before Troy and Ty bumped fists.

  “Join us,” Troy’s
mom said.

  “I’ll order,” Thane said. “Ty, you want a milk shake?”

  Ty nodded to his brother and turned to Troy. “You guys all unpacked?”

  “Pretty much. I just got my school schedule.”

  Ty frowned. “Schedule? Registration isn’t until next Friday. How’d you get your schedule?”

  Troy glanced at his mom. She licked some ice cream from her fingers and pretended to look out at the cars passing on the street.

  “Uh, at Summit.”

  Ty’s face wrinkled. “What are you talking about?”

  “Well . . . man, this stinks, but I can’t go to St. Stephen’s.”

  Ty’s mouth hung open before he scoffed. “Stop goofing.”

  “I wish I was.” Troy sighed. “It stinks. We just can’t swing it.”

  Ty laughed and looked from Troy to his mom. “You’re kidding.”

  They should have been kidding. Troy had signed a fifteen-million-dollar contract with the Jets. Five million dollars had been paid to Troy when he signed it. The plan had been for them to rent a huge home on the better side of town near Thane and Ty. That was before Troy’s father lost every cent of the money in a crooked deal, then vanished.

  It was Troy’s mom’s turn to dive in. “If everything goes well, though, Troy can play with you next year. You’ll both be in high school then, anyway. It’s just temporary, until we get things straightened out financially.”

  Ty’s face lit up. “Ms. White, you don’t have to worry about that. My brother, he can—”

  The dark look on Troy’s mom’s face silenced him.

  “I mean . . . isn’t there any way at all?”

  Troy’s mom shook her head.

  Thane appeared with two milk shakes and sat down next to her. “Any way for what?”

  “Troy’s going to have to go to Summit for a year until we get some financial things worked out.” Troy’s mom fired her words like a machine gun. “St. Stephen’s will have to wait.”

  Thane tilted his head with a puzzled expression. “But I can—”

  Troy’s mom held up a hand. “Don’t. Please. I know if we really needed it that you’d be there for us, but that’s not how we operate. It’s not a bad lesson for Troy to learn. Things don’t always work out the way you plan them, right?”

  Thane got a sad, faraway look in his eyes. “That’s right. They don’t.”