Free Perfect Season by Tim Green Page A

grinned.
    â€œYou going with your dad?” Troy asked.
    â€œNo, I was just gonna drive myself. Didn’t you know you can get a driver’s license in New Jersey when you’re thirteen?”
    â€œFunny,” Troy said, “but I was thinking . . . you’ve got four tickets. Maybe Tate and I could go with you.”
    Chuku looked suspiciously at Troy, then screwed up his face. “That why you wanted me to come here? That why you helped? Tickets?”
    â€œNo.” Troy opened his hands and waved them at Chuku. “I want you here to catch touchdown passes. I’m not asking for them for free. They’re your tickets. I’m not asking for them back, not even two of them. You won them, fair and square.”
    â€œYou want to buy back two tickets? They’re, like, at least a thousand dollars each, maybe two.”
    â€œI was thinking more like a trade.”
    â€œTrade for what?” Chuku asked.
    â€œWho’s your favorite Falcons player?”
    â€œFalcons? Julio Jones. Why?”
    â€œYou collect jerseys, right? How about a signed Julio Jones game-worn jersey for those two tickets?”
    â€œHow? Seth Halloway?”
    Troy nodded. “Coach Halloway, now.”
    â€œYou like Helena that much?” Chuku asked.
    â€œI like Helena, but it’s more about being there. Mr. Cole is not a guy I want to make mad. He gave me the tickets so I could go, and I don’t think he’d be too happy about me gambling them away.”
    Chuku was thinking. “How about Julio Jones and Matt Ryan? Game-worn.”
    â€œDeal.” Troy barely let the words get out of Chuku’s mouth. He knew Seth could get the jerseys for him easily and he reached across the table, shaking Chuku’s hand before his new friend could change his mind.
    Troy’s brain was spinning fast. “Hey, this is all between us, okay? One thing you can’t do—either of you guys—is tell Seth. Okay?”
    Troy stared at them both, wondering why the color suddenly drained from their faces. Then Troy felt a hand on his shoulder. He spun his head around and Seth sat down next to him in the booth.
    â€œTell me what?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
    â€œSETH, WHAT ARE YOU doing here?” Troy asked.
    â€œI was driving by and saw you two clowns and this lovely young lady in the window.” Seth winked at Tate before he took one of Troy’s French fries and dipped it in ketchup. “Tell me what?”
    Slick as a snake, Troy cleared his throat and said, “Well, it was supposed to be a surprise, but we came up with a nickname.”
    â€œNickname?” Seth raised his eyebrows and nicked another one of Troy’s French fries. “For what?”
    â€œUs.” Troy nodded at Chuku, his mind spinning even faster. “‘Killer Kombo.’ Combo with a k . You know, like the Fab Five, or the Fun Bunch, or the Steel Curtain.”
    Seth ate another fry. “Hmm, usually people wait until they’ve done something pretty spectacular before they start giving themselves nicknames.”
    â€œWe’re not short on confidence.” Troy grinned, happy to see Chuku nodding in agreement.
    â€œWell,” Seth said, chewing, “I guess it was Muhammad Ali who said, ‘It ain’t bragging if you can back it up,’ or was that Deion Sanders? One of them. Maybe both.”
    â€œOh, we’ll back it up.” Troy’s grin broadened, more because he’d successfully diverted Seth’s attention than because he loved the nickname.
    Seth pointed at Chuku. “You know, your dad used to play on a defense in college they called the Brick Wall.”
    Chuku nodded. “I heard about that. You knew my dad?”
    â€œBest linebacker Baylor ever had.” Seth held out a fist and Chuku bumped it. “How about after lunch, we all head over to the field and get started on some patterns? Tate, you can run a few for us, too,