Free The Counterfeit Tackle by Matt Christopher Page A

heartthrob. Two weeks ago it was Terry Slocum. Next week or two weeks from now it could be anybody’s
     guess who her heartthrob would be.
    “I suppose so,” said Dad. “Buzz doesn’t care about it, and Corky doesn’t dare. I guess it’ll be you, Steve and I, then.”
    All this went on and Corky never said a word. He just sat there with his chin in his hands and his eyes staring off into space.
    Buzz knew that he wanted to go to that Giants-Bears game in the worst way. No one loved football as much as Corky did. He
     was crazy about those professional football games on television. Now that he had a chance to see a real big-league game in
     person, he couldn’t. Andjust because he was afraid that Coach Hayes would kick him off the team.
    Boy
, thought Buzz.
I wouldn’t be afraid. If I loved football the way Corky does
, I’d
go
.
    This was the first time the two great teams had ever played in Kellsburg. It was a benefit game to raise money for a special
     fund. It might be the last time they would play here.
    “Come on, Corky,” said Dad. “There’s a good game on television now. Let’s watch it.”
    Later on Buzz put on his cap and coat again and went to the library. The wind was blowing hard and there were snow flurries
     in the air.
    For several days Buzz had wanted to get a book or two on chess. He knewhow to play the game fairly well, but not as well as he wished. The only person he hadn’t beaten at school was Mr. Krum,
     his math teacher. And that was his aim — to beat the pants off Mr. Krum. Although, of course, he wouldn’t tell it just that
     way to Mr. Krum.
    He found two books on chess which he thought would help him. While he was waiting for Ms. Larkin, the librarian, to stamp
     his library card, a boy came up beside him.
    “Buzz, is Corky home?”
    It was Pete Nettles. He was smaller and younger than Buzz and a great buddy of Corky’s, a thing Buzz couldn’t understand.
     Pete was the dumbest kid on the block. He had just passed last year by the skin of his teeth. Yet Corky liked him.
    “Yes, he’s home,” said Buzz in a not too friendly voice. “Why?”
    Pete blinked a few times and stepped back a little. “I — I just wanted to see him, that’s all.”
    “Well, you’d better not see him now,” said Buzz. “He’s too busy.”
    Pete’s dark eyes hung on to his a moment. Then Pete turned away and headed for the shelves where a label read sports .
    Buzz smirked.
Sports. That kid would never be able to do anything
. Then he turned back and saw Ms. Larkin looking directly at him. It was a dark, unpleasant look — the kind Mom gave him when
     he acted smart at home — and his face turned a bright red.
    “Guess I shouldn’t have talked to him that way,” he murmured quietly.
    “No, Buzz,” replied Ms. Larkin softly. “You shouldn’t have.”
    Ms. Larkin placed his card in one of the books, then pushed them toward him.
    “Thank you,” he said. He picked up the books and left.
    It was snowing harder now. The flakes were like pinfeathers whipping about in the air. They hit his glasses, melted, and left
     streaks. After a while they bothered him so that he had to take the glasses off.
    “Hey, Corky, boy!” a voice shouted ahead of him. “Hope it stops snowing before our game tomorrow! Don’t you?”
    Buzz saw two boys approaching — Gary O’Brien and Tony Krebbs, members of the Otters football team. They stopped and smiled
     at him while the snow pelted their faces.
    Buzz started to say something, but Gary was looking at the title of one of the books Buzz was carrying and he laughed.
    “Hey, look at this, Tony! Corky’s going to read up on chess! You don’t expect to play chess like that smart brother of yours,
     do you, Cork?”
    Buzz’s heart skipped a beat. “I’m Buzz,” he said. “I took my glasses off because of the snow.” He pulled the glasses out of
     his pocket to prove it.
    Gary’s face colored. “Oh,” he said. “Sorry, Buzz. Thought you were