Free The Counterfeit Tackle by Matt Christopher Page B

Corky. Come on, Tony. Let’s go.”

2
    G ARY and Tony brushed past Buzz and went on their way, and Buzz went on his. Both of those boys were in his class in school.
     But they often acted just that way, as if he had the measles or something.
    They liked Corky. Everyone liked Corky. It wasn’t because he played football, either. Or basketball. Buzz played basketball
     with some of those same guys. Still, it made no difference with them. They’d yell “Hi!” to Corky if they sawhim half a mile away. But Buzz would practically have to bump into them before they said “Hi” to him. It wasn’t the same
     kind of “Hi,” either. It was dead-like.
    Why they liked Corky and not him, Buzz didn’t know. He had one friend — Dougie Byrd. One friend — as long as he was a
real
friend — was enough for him.
    He got to thinking about tomorrow’s pro football game. He sure wished Corky would go. It would be the greatest thing that
     ever happened to him. He’d remember it as long as he lived. Who knew if he’d ever have this chance again?
    And then, suddenly, an idea popped into Buzz’s head. A crazy, unbelievable, fantastic idea. But an idea that could work perfectly!
    The more he thought about it, the better it looked, and the faster he hurried home.
    He called Corky into the bedroom and shut the door. He was breathless with excitement.
    “Corky, you still would like to go to the Giants-Bears game, wouldn’t you?”
    “Of course I would! But I told you —”
    “Wait! I have an idea. You
can
go. And you won’t have to worry about not playing with the Otters tomorrow, either!”
    Corky stared. “Why? Did you talk with Coach Hayes?”
    “No. I’ll play in your place. Without my glasses on no one will know that I’m Buzz! I’ll pretend I’m you!”
    Corky’s mouth dropped open. “That’s crazy!”
    “Sh-h!” whispered Buzz. “Not so loud! No one must know about this. Not even Dad. This is only between you and me.”
    “But you’ve only played football in gym!” Corky said, his voice just above a whisper. “How do you expect to do it?”
    “Look, you play tackle, don’t you? All you do is stand there in the line and try to keep the opponents from running through.
     What’s hard about that?”
    “Everything’s hard about that,” snapped Corky. “You have to stand just right. You have to know how to block your man. Buzz,
     you’re not in condition! You could get hurt!”
    “I played basketball all last winter just as much as you did,” said Buzz. “And I rode my bike around this summer more often
     than you played baseball. You’ve only been practicing football a few weeks. You can’t be in much better condition than I am.”

    Corky took a deep breath. He stuck his hands into his pockets and turned around. He made a complete turn and looked squarely
     at Buzz again.
    Now a faint smile was on his lips. He began to blink, as if he were ready to cry or something.
    “What if someone catches on? I’ll be kicked off the team and maybe the game will be forfeited.”
    “No one will catch on,” said Buzz. “I’m sure of it. Just a little while ago Gary O’Brien and Tony Krebbs came up to me on
     the street and thought I was you! I had my glasses off because of the snow. They didn’t know it was me until I told them.”
    Corky took a hand out of his pocket and rubbed it across his face.
    “Don’t you think we should tell Dad?” he asked.
    “Dad wouldn’t let us do it, Corky. He wouldn’t go for anything like that. I know Dad. This has just got to be between you
     and me. When it’s over with, no one will know the difference. There will be no harm done and you will have seen the Giants-Bears
     game.”
    Buzz got off the bed and looked directly into Corky’s eyes. “Will you go and tell Dad you’ve changed your mind about seeing
     the Giants-Bears game, or do you want me to?”
    “I — I think you’d better, Buzz,” said Corky.
    Buzz smiled. “Okay. I’ll tell him.”
    They walked