Touchdown Kid Page 17

  “Just do your thing, will ya?” Jimbo spun on him. “Everything’s something with you. You know that?”

  Cory bit into his mouthpiece and lined up beside Jimbo, who stood five yards behind the center in shotgun formation.

  “Down! Blue eighty-nine, blue eighty-nine, set, hut!” Jimbo took the snap and tucked the ball into Cory’s stomach.

  Cory bolted toward the line, but it opened up like a razor cut. Red pants and helmets bled through. Cory lowered his shoulder and burst into it head on. Pads cracked. A white bolt of light flashed in his brain. His neck exploded with pain and still his legs churned forward, tearing up tufts of grass and dirt.

  He tried to break free, but too many hands and arms snared his legs and he went down not much beyond the line of scrimmage.

  Gant pulled him free from the tangle of limbs and propelled him toward the huddle.

  “Why?” Cory asked. “Why up the middle? That’s crazy.”

  “He knows what he’s doin’,” Gant said, surprising Cory. “Hang in there.”

  The next play, Cory faked the run up the middle so Jimbo could throw a play-action pass. Cory took the brunt of the defense so Jimbo could throw without pressure. He threw a good pass, too, but it bounced off the hands of the receiver and the HBS crowd groaned.

  Third down and nine was a passing down, and the play called for three receivers to run deep routes. Cory was the checkdown, the safety valve in case no one else was open, the last resort.

  “Chip the end on the right and get out to the flat,” Jimbo told Cory as they approached the line. “I’m throwing it to you.”

  “Me?” Cory was confused. It wasn’t that he didn’t want the ball; it was that he wasn’t supposed to be the primary receiver. Jimbo should have known that.

  “Coach signaled for me to throw the checkdown.”

  “He did?”

  “Stop talking and just do it, will you?” Jimbo got into his stance and began the cadence.

  Cory didn’t have time to think about the whys and hows. The ball was snapped and he chip-blocked the defensive end with his shoulder, spinning the defensive player off balance so the right tackle could bury him in the ground. He dashed to the flat, out near the sideline, turned, and there was the ball, whistling at him no more than eight feet away.

  Cory’s hands shot up, ready, and snagged the pass. He turned and saw open field. Two steps and the B’ville defense was coming at him from all sides. But this wasn’t a run up the middle. This was where he could zig and zag, dip and rip.

  He poured on the speed and crashed through a cornerback who thought he could tackle Cory high, then planted his hand in a safety’s face, thrusting him into the ground. Cory leaped another tackler, dodged a fourth, and accelerated like a drag racing car, over the finish line, into the end zone under a light rain.

  His teammates swarmed all over him, slapping his pads and palms.

  “Touchdown Kid!” Gant hollered.

  “Touchdown Kid!” shouted Jimbo.

  “Touchdown Kid!” bellowed another.

  On the sideline, Coach P hugged him, then let go. Cory flushed with pride and excitement. He looked up into the stands to point at his mom, and when Marvin gave him a thumbs-up, Cory gave him one right back.

  It felt like he was on top of the world.

  That’s when someone tapped his shoulder and he turned around.

  It was like a dream.

  A bad dream.

  Officer Wells stood dripping on the sideline in the middle of the HBS players, who were backing away like he was an infected zombie. Beside him was Officer Blankenship, looking angry to be out in the rain.

  Officer Wells said, “Okay, kid. We know all about you and your Westside buddies. Come with us.

  “Now.”

  72

  Mr. Muiller was with the officers, huffing and wearing a dark blue rain coat and a matching floppy bucket hat. He seemed less in control than Cory had ever seen him. “Cory, let’s just go with them and get this sorted out. I’ll talk to Coach P.”

  It seemed to Cory that the entire crowd ignored the action on the field to stare down at him from the stands. Mr. Muiller took Coach P aside. Cory saw the coach glance his way and shake his head. Mr. Muiller returned, his mouth thin as a paper cut. Away they went, Cory surrounded by a triangle of adults.

  Cory’s mom and Marvin intercepted the four of them halfway to the parking lot.

  “Excuse me!” his mom shouted, waving one hand and holding a newspaper over her head as a shield to the rain spilling from the smoky sky. “What in the world are you doing?”

  Marvin followed close behind. Cory clenched his teeth.

  Mr. Muiller stepped forward with his hands making calming gestures. “Ashley, I didn’t know you were here.”

  “Of course I’m here,” she said. “It’s his first scrimmage.”

  “With the thunder and the confusion, I just didn’t see you.” Mr. Muiller was polite, but his voice had an edge to it now. “The police have some questions is all. Our house was broken into a few days ago. No one was hurt, but quite a bit of valuable jewelry was taken.”

  “You’re his mother?” Wells asked, stepping forward.

  “I am.” Cory’s mom stood straight, glaring.

  “We just need to talk to him, ma’am.” Blankenship stayed calm. “About the break-in. It was some kids he knows.”

  “Right now? Seriously?” She blinked her eyes and wore a look of disbelief. “He’s playing football and you just take him?”

  “Three hundred thousand dollars worth of jewelry was stolen.” Wells looked grim. “And your son may have some information that can help us. I’d say that trumps a football scrimmage.”

  “I had no idea about any break-in.” Cory’s mom looked at Cory now like he’d done something wrong. She seemed to be losing control of the situation, if she’d ever had any to begin with.

  Wells recapped the broken window, the deactivated alarm, and the value of the jewelry. “Kid we got is Albert Macadoo. They call him Dirty. We think he was involved in another burglary. A place called the Shamrock Club. We talked to some city cops who said your son was at the scene.”

  Blankenship took over. “But we don’t care about any of that. It sounds like Cory was an innocent bystander. We only want him to tell us as much as he can about these kids so we can catch the others.”

  “Are you saying he has to go? Now?” Cory’s mom tried to sound tough, but she was weakening. He could tell.

  “We can do this the easy way, or the hard way, ma’am,” said Wells. “You can cooperate or we can go get a court order and bring him into juvie to see the judge.”

  “Well, I’m coming with you,” Cory’s mom said.

  “That’s fine, ma’am,” said Blankenship. “Mr. Muiller? Would you still like to come anyway?”

  “I feel like I should,” said Mr. Muiller. “Can Cory ride with me or his mom?”

  Cory could tell Wells didn’t like that by the way the cop bit his lip.

  “That’s fine,” said Blankenship.

  Cory’s mom looked at him. Cory flashed his eyes at Marvin. Suddenly he wasn’t mad at the quiet man, he was embarrassed, so he said, “I’d better ride with Mr. Muiller.”

  They rode in silence until they pulled into the parking lot behind the police station, a three-story building next to the town offices. Mr. Muiller shut off the Bentley’s engine and turned to Cory. “If you had a part in this, please just tell me now, Cory. I’ll still help you, but I’d rather find out sooner than later.”

  Cory flinched. “No . . . Mr. Muiller, I didn’t give anyone that code. I didn’t do anything.”

  “But the police said you know these kids?”

  Cory’s mouth fell open, but nothing came out. His whole life was coming unraveled and it was so unfair because he’d done nothing wrong.

  He didn’t know Dirty. He just knew who he was and the kind of things he’d do. But he was very conscious of having lied to Wells and Blankenship before. Obviously
they’d spoken with those policemen, Thorpe and Kenny.

  “I know who they are, but I don’t know them,” Cory said finally.

  Mr. Muiller looked at him for another moment, weighing things before a frown settled in. “Let’s go inside.”

  73

  They got out of the Bentley. The rain had stopped but drops beaded on the dark blue car like scattered jewels. Cory had a brief thought about the football scrimmage, wondering if Mike had been able to bounce back. He felt choked about his missed opportunity. Just when he’d tied the score and gotten the team back on track . . .

  Cory’s mom and Marvin hurried out of the Hyundai and joined them. They all followed the two officers inside and up the elevator. There were some chairs along the wall at the station. An empty desk guarded a door beyond.

  Wells pointed to the chairs and addressed Cory’s mom. “It’ll be best if you all wait here so we can talk to Cory and Mr. Muiller.”

  “Shouldn’t I be with him?” Cory’s mom asked.

  Wells didn’t blink. “Ma’am, you made Mr. Muiller your son’s guardian so he could live in his house. I’m presuming you trust him.”

  “Of course I trust him.” Cory’s mom stiffened.

  “Great.” Wells pulled open the door. “Have a seat.”

  His mom looked uncertain. When she turned to see what Marvin thought, Cory bit his lip, then followed Wells through the door. He heard Blankenship say, “So, we’re all set?”

  From the other side of the door Cory heard his mom say, “Okay. I guess.”

  They walked along an interior wall with office doors to their right. To their left was a large open space filled with desks and bordered on the other side by floor-to-ceiling windows. They led Cory into a windowless room on the right. Wells pointed to a chair by itself on the far side of a table. Mr. Muiller took a seat on the end closest to Cory, but still far enough for Cory to realize he was alone.

  Blankenship sat down across from Cory and crossed his arms.

  Wells stayed on his feet. “Let’s not mince words. You were the lookout in the Shamrock Club burglary for the same gang that broke into the Muillers’ house, right?”

  Cory looked at Mr. Muiller, who sat frowning. “I didn’t do anything wrong. They made me.”

  “Did they make you help them this time, too? Or was it your idea?” Wells asked.

  Cory was sick and spinning. He now thought it was a mistake to be in here without his mom. She knew about the Shamrock Club, but she understood. She knew how bad those kids were and that Cory had nothing to do with them. It seemed like he had slipped and kept slipping and now here he was with Mr. Muiller looking as unhappy as the police. “I had no idea about them doing this to the Muillers. I have no idea how or why.”

  “How was you giving them the security code,” Wells said. “Why is because you saw all those diamonds around Mrs. Muiller’s neck.”

  “That’s crazy.” Cory was sinking fast. They were bending what really happened and what he really said and he didn’t know how to get them straight.

  Then he realized he had a life preserver, something that would save him for sure, and he wondered why the police hadn’t thought of it themselves.

  It was so simple, Cory laughed out loud.

  “This is funny?” Wells snarled.

  “No,” Cory said, knowing how they got the code.

  All three of the men looked at him. “You better talk,” Wells said.

  Cory hesitated. What he was about to say would be disloyal. On the Westside, they’d call him a rat. But he wasn’t on the Westside anymore, and he didn’t want to go back. And things were the way they were. He didn’t give anyone that code, but he knew who must have.

  He needed to save himself.

  74

  Cory held back, trying desperately to think of another way, but knowing that there wasn’t one.

  The words echoed in his brain. “They must have gotten the code from Liam.” But he couldn’t say it.

  Cory swallowed the bile juices churning up from his stomach.

  Wells had a notebook out. He read from it and looked up, continuing. “You told us at the house that you knew Mrs. Muiller had all that jewelry. You knew where she kept it and you knew how valuable it was. That’s what you said.”

  Blankenship nodded silently. Mr. Muiller’s frown dropped even more. Cory couldn’t speak. They were twisting things again.

  “Cory.” Blankenship opened his arms. “We don’t want you in all this. We want Albert . . . Dirty. We want Finn and Hoagie. We know all about them. We couldn’t care less about you getting a slap on the wrist in family court, but them? They’ll do time. They need to be put away. We just need you to help.”

  Silence smothered the room.

  Cory couldn’t allow himself to be connected to three thugs who were going to jail. He wasn’t connected to them. He was a good kid. He’d never steal from anyone. His mother had taught him that.

  “I don’t know them. I know who they are, I said that, but I have nothing to do with them,” Cory looked up, fierce. “Nothing.”

  Wells huffed and everyone turned toward him. “Cory, you know that’s just not true.”

  75

  Cory felt his insides knotting up, squirming like snakes in a bag. His eyes began to flood. “What do you mean?”

  “We got a caller,” Wells said. “Says you threatened Mike Chester with this Dirty kid in the locker room. Everyone heard you. You said he cuts people.”

  “I was . . .” The story was too big and too long. It flooded Cory’s brain, drowning him while he watched the adults around him stare. He was a kid from the Westside. A scholarship kid like Gant, and Aidan Brown. Cory knew now what Gant meant. His shoulders slumped. He hung his head and went silent, defeated.

  Mr. Muiller reached over and put a hand on Cory’s shoulder. “Look, Cory. You come from a different world. We all know that. These kids . . . they probably threatened you, right? No one’s saying you wanted to do this, but you’ve got to tell the truth and help these officers do their job.”

  Tears streamed down Cory’s face. He sniffed and looked up at Mr. Muiller, who was trying to be kind to him.

  Cory could barely speak, but he managed to sob out the words, “I didn’t.”

  Mr. Muiller sighed heavily. “Officers, why don’t I take him home. I think all this is too much for him, but I’m betting I can convince him to help, and then we’ll call you.”

  “The problem, Mr. Muiller, is the jewelry,” said Blankenship. “We got lucky to catch Albert—Dirty—trying to sell a ring, but the rest of it is out there, and every hour we wait is a chance for them to unload what they stole. Not every pawnbroker is as honest as the guy who called us with the ring.”

  “But tell me again why do you need Cory for that?” Mr. Muiller asked.

  Blankenship said, “Like we said at the scrimmage, Mr. Muiller, Dirty won’t admit he broke into your house. He’s saying he won the ring in a card game. We know he’s lying, but we can’t prove it right now. Cory could help us nail them all. We could get warrants to search their homes, and once Dirty knows we’ve got Cory’s statement, he may roll on his friends to save himself. So . . . we really need Cory to cooperate.”

  Wells spoke up. “I think he should stay right where he is until he talks. I say that with all due respect, Mr. Muiller, but this kid is a liar. He lied to us about never being in trouble before, and he lied to you just now about not knowing Dirty and not being connected to him.”

  Cory sniffed as quietly as he could. The tears continued to dribble down his face. He shook his head against the tide as Wells tried to take away any credibility Cory had with Mr. Muiller. He looked up and saw his host dad’s face take on a deep scowl.

  All Cory could do was silently plead, begging with his eyes for Mr. Muiller to give him a chance, even though no one believed him. He wasn’t guilty.

  Officer Wells drummed his fingertips on the table like raindrops from the end of the world.

  76

 
Mr. Muiller stood up, shoulders back, with the upper lip on one side of his mouth raised off his teeth. “Come on, Cory. Let’s go.”

  “Mr. Muiller?” Wells stared in disbelief.

  “We’re going.” Mr. Muiller opened the door. “I don’t like this. It’s too much. He’s a twelve-year-old kid.”

  The police were both on their feet now too. Cory stood up, eager to go.

  “He helped break into your home, sir,” Blankenship sputtered, “and steal your property.”

  “Cory’s a good kid. This thing is a mess, but he’s a good kid.” Mr. Muiller ushered Cory out the door. “We’ll sort this out at home and if I learn anything that can help you, I’ll call. I’ve got your cards.”

  Wells followed them into the hallway. “Mr. Muiller, stop.”

  The urgency in the policeman’s voice caused Mr. Muiller to pause and look back. Cory looked back too.

  Wells wore a menacing smile. “As I told the mom, we can do this the hard way. I meant it. I’ll bring him in front of a judge and we can put him into custody.”

  Mr. Muiller froze.

  Cory had no idea what would happen next.

  77

  Mr. Muiller’s face screwed up into a ferocious snarl, but his words were quiet and calm. “You know what I call your chief? Chief Stanton? Diggy. You never heard that before because only his close friends call him Diggy. Now, Officer Wells, I appreciate your passion for your job, but you can’t bully me, son. I’ve got more lawyers than you’ve got spiders in your basement. I play in the big leagues and you’d do best to stand down, unless you’d like to explain all this to the Citizens’ Police Review Board.”

  Mr. Muiller let Wells digest that before he said, “We good here?”

  Wells swallowed and nodded.

  “Nice. Like I said, I’ll keep you posted if I learn anything.” Mr. Muiller turned and put a hand on Cory’s shoulder, guiding him under a firm grip out into the elevator lobby.

  Cory’s mom jumped up. “Cory, why are you crying? Why is he crying?”