Free Takedown by Matt Christopher Page B

box.
    “Mr. Wagner!” I said, stunned. “What… what are you doing?”
    “Oh, hi, Sean,” he said. He placed the box in the truck and looked at me. Sweat shone on his forehead. “I’m moving.”
    “Moving?” Oh, no! My mind whirled.
    “Yes, I’m moving, Sean,” he said softly. “I would’ve called you, don’t worry.”
    “Why? Where?” I stammered.
    “I got a new job, and it’s out of town,” he explained. “I hadn’t planned on staying here forever, anyway. When there was a
     job opening here, I applied for it and got it. But it wasn’t one I hoped to spend the rest of my life doing. It was just to
     fill the gap until I found the right one, the one I wanted. And that’s what happened.”
    “You mean you didn’t come to Mount Villa just to…just to referee?” I asked, feeling a lump form in my throat.
You didn’t come to be near me, your son?
was what I really wanted to ask him.
    He smiled. “Oh, no. I can referee anywhere, and I have. I’ll probably get a refereeing job in my new town, too. A head refereeing
     job, if possible, since my other job will be permanent.”
    Clint took off his cap and mopped his brow. “Well, I’ve got to get a move on. I have to be out of here by tonight.”
    I should’ve offered to help, but my tongue — like the rest of my body — seemed frozen in place. He was leaving, just like
     that. I’d probably never see him again. And that meant I’d been wrong about him all along.
    Clint must have read the disappointment in my face. “It’s too bad this had to happen just when we were becoming friends. But
     pretty soon you’ll be too busy for an old guy like me, with girlfriends and wrestling and all. Just remember some of those
     new moves and holds I taught you, okay?”
    He extended his hand and, after a moment, I shook it.
    “Sure,” I managed to mutter. “Thanks for everything.”
    Suddenly my body was in working order again, and I pulled out of the driveway without looking back. I rode off down the street,
     thoughts churning in my head. Who needed him, anyway? I’d gotten along fine before I met him. I didn’t need Clint or anyone
     else.
    I must have headed for home out of habit, because I found myself there in a matter ofminutes. But Carl was polishing up his bike in the driveway, and I was in no mood to deal with him.
    Instead, I gunned the motor and turned around. I needed to be alone, to clear my head. I knew just where to go — the dirt
     bike track.
    I hadn’t ridden more than a block when I heard a motor behind me and, glancing at my rearview mirror, I saw that it was Carl.
     Was he following me? I wondered. Well, if he was, I wasn’t going to pay any attention to him.
    I reached the track — there was no gate — and started to ride around it. Carl was still some fifty feet behind me. Figuring
     on widening the gap between us, I accelerated and felt the bike take off like a rocket. The track was bumpier than I’d remembered,
     but it had been three or four months since I’d ridden on it. I laughed out loud as the bike bounced crazily on the rough track.
     I went faster and faster, enjoying the rush of air against my face and the roar of the engine underneath me.
    For a second I glanced at the rearview mirror and saw Carl far behind me. He had one handoff the handlebars, signaling me hard to slow down.
    I laughed. “Slow down yourself, brother!” I shouted into the wind.
    I’d barely gotten “brother” out when the front wheel of my bike struck a sharp bump and the bike swerved. Icy terror shot
     up my spine as I lost my grip on the handlebars. The bike reeled over onto its side, and I went with it.

13
    Carl pulled up beside me. “You okay?”
    I nodded as I slowly got to my feet. I was bruised and dirty, but nothing was broken.
    “Why’d you follow me, anyway?” I snapped at Carl. Now Mom would find out, and I’d be in hot water again.
    “I don’t know,” Carl said. “I felt like it. And you looked —”
    I cut him