Free Crackback by John Coy Page A

fired up as I was last week. Maybe because Fox is the quarterback. Maybe because Stahl is the coach. Maybe because I’m not down with Zach and Tyson shooting up.
    At my locker, I move my Spanish book from the middle shelf to the lower one. Sometimes I play these games, as if changing which shelf a book’s on will improve my luck. Lots of athletes are superstitious, whether it’s what they wear, how they get dressed, or who they stand next to. I carry this into my school life, too.
    When the books are right, I close my locker. Coming down the hall carrying a violin case is Lucia. Light reflects off the blue beads of her necklace. She’s seriously pretty.
    Zach would know what to do. He’d say something smooth. I freeze. The only thing I can think of is, “Hi.”
    â€œHi.” She keeps walking.
    I turn to watch. I wouldn’t have a chance with her. She takes long strides away from me. Say something. Talk to her.
    â€œLucia,” I call.
    â€œYes?” She turns around.
    â€œI’m Miles Manning.”
    â€œHi.” She comes closer. I wipe my sweaty palms on my pants. She’s wearing jeans and a tight T-shirt that says: S AVE THE D RAMA , C ALL Y OUR M AMA . I don’t know what that means, but I like it.
    â€œI heard you were at the library Saturday.”
    She squints.
    â€œThe librarian said someone tall with dark hair and green eyes had been in.” I can’t believe I’m talking about the library. “I thought it must be you.”
    â€œYes, I was there.” She sounds puzzled.
    â€œHow do you like Confluence?” Why am I so nervous? Why am I talking like an idiot?
    â€œIt’s okay, but I miss my friends. I miss the city.”
    â€œYeah.” My mind races for what to say. Lucia seems so calm standing there. She’s got beautiful eyes and long lashes. “Are you going to the football game tonight?”
    â€œNo, I go to my dad’s on the weekend.” She checks her watch. “I’ve got to get going.”
    â€œHave fun.” I try not to sound disappointed that she’s not here on weekends. I open my locker and pretend to get a book so I can watch her. She moves gracefully down the hall, like a dancer.
    â€œLucia,” I call.
    She turns. “Yes?”
    â€œWhat’s your last name?”
    â€œLombrico.”
    Lucia Lombrico. I like that name. “See you Monday.”
    â€œYeah, see you.”
    Sometimes, moving a book for good luck works.

chapter seventeen
    In the locker room at Twin Falls, Zach puts on pads next to Tyson. I choose an empty spot on the other side of the room. Sam Hunter is bent over with his pants stretched out on the floor.
    â€œWhat the hell are you doing, Hunter?” Tyson asks.
    â€œPutting both legs on at the same time. If their coach says, ‘Those guys put their pants on the same way we do,’ I want him to be wrong.”
    Tyson shakes his head. “You’re one weird mother.”
    â€œThanks, Ty.” Sam slides his pants past his knees, both legs together.
    Coach Stahl enters. “Attitude plus aptitude equals altitude. Think about it, men. If you have the right attitude and the right aptitude, which is another name for skills, you can go as high as you want. Attitude plus aptitude equals altitude.” Stahl rubs his mustache.
    That must have taken him ages to think up.
    â€œSome of you need to work on your attitude.” He looks at me. “Some of you need to work on your skills, your aptitude. But when you put them together, we can conquer the mountain that is the state championship.”
    Where does he get this stuff?
    Stahl climbs onto a bench. “You know what you need to do. Just win, Eagles. Just win. We’ve got two victories. At the end of this game, I want three. Three and zero and we’re on track to be…”
    Stahl rips down a piece of paper exposing the word C HAMPIONS . “What do you want to be,