BooksBarbecue
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Chapters (51)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright
  4. Dedication
  5. Epigraph
  6. Prologue
  7. Part I
  8. 1.
  9. 2.
  10. 3.
  11. 4.
  12. 5.
  13. 6.
  14. 7.
  15. 8.
  16. 9.
  17. 10.
  18. Part II
  19. 11.
  20. 12.
  21. 13.
  22. 14.
  23. 15.
  24. 16.
  25. 17.
  26. 18.
  27. Part III
  28. 19.
  29. 20.
  30. 21.
  31. 22.
  32. 23.
  33. 24.
  34. 25.
  35. 26.
  36. 27.
  37. 28.
  38. 29.
  39. 30.
  40. 31.
  41. 32.
  42. Part IV
  43. 33.
  44. 34.
  45. 35.
  46. 36.
  47. 37.
  48. 38.
  49. 39.
  50. 40.
  51. About the Author

Just down the hall, Tub’s head was wrenched beneath the arm of Steve Jorgensen-Warner. It was a reprise of the scene in the Trophy Cave, but with the fun added bonus of a fare increase that Tub would never be able to satisfy with his grandma’s pitiful allowance. I was heading toward them before I knew what I was doing, pushing aside rubberneckers. I wasn’t the same guy that I had been a week before, not even close.

With both hands I shoved Steve in the chest. Until that moment I’d never realized the extent of his muscle density: he didn’t budge an inch. But the action garnered the desired effect. He pitched Tub to the side to regard this newer, more interesting victim. A cymbal clash announced Tub’s head-on collision with a locker, but I kept my eyes trained on the enemy and his bouncing ball.

SMACK, SMACK!

“Jim, thanks for reminding me,” Steve said. “I’ve been meaning to ask if you’d be willing to participate in our daily toll. It’s a great program with lots of keen benefits.”

“Lay off Tub.”

SMACK, SMACK!

“I’ll take that as a yes. Why don’t we start right away?”

“Lay off everyone. Everyone’s sick of your crap.”

SMACK, SMACK!

“Are they? I hadn’t noticed. Seemed to me it was the opposite.”

“They’re just scared of you. I’m not.”

SMACK, SMACK!

“Scared? Why should anyone be scared? I’m the guy who’s going to score the winning touchdown tomorrow. I’m the guy who’s going to do a quick costume change and perform some play in the middle of the field. All night it’s going to be me up there on the jumbotron. I don’t do it for personal glory, Jim. I do it for the school! People appreciate that. They’re only too happy to give a few bucks here and there for the cause.”

SMACK, SMACK!

“That’s my role,” I growled.

“You did look cute in your skirt and tights, I’ll give you that. Tough break. Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to give your Juliet a big, wet kiss from the both of us.”

“Why are you so interested in Claire all of a sudden?”

“Why?” Steve repeated. “Why not?”

He laughed. In comparison, I realized that my voice had become wheedling. The dull weight that had heavied my fists seconds before was gone. Weakness snowballed. Onlookers were chuckling and it hurt like it used to. I hung my head and turned to find my books where I’d tossed them aside. My only successes came in the dark of night; I should have known better than to try to take on Steve in the light of day.

“You’re a dobber, Mr. Jorgensen-Warner.”