Free Soccer Halfback by Matt Christopher

How come I hadn’t heard of this?” he demanded.
    Jabber smiled weakly. How could he tell Pete that he hadn’t really meant it? That it was just something he had said off the
     top of his head?
    “Where did you hear the scuttlebutt, friend?” Pete asked Tony when he received no answer from his brother.
    “Mose Borman. Jabber’s friend.”
    Mose ought to be hung, thought Jabber. I just said that because I was disgusted for playing so lousy. Why didn’t Mose keep
     his mouth shut?
    “Smart move, Jabber!” exclaimed Tony. “As a matter of fact, I was surprised you went out for soccer instead of football. After
     the big name your father made for himself I couldn’t see for beans why you went out for a different sport. Right, Pete?”
    “I’ve been telling him that all along,” said Pete. “Hey, man, I’m pleased! This is good news!”
    He extended his hand, and Jabber found himself shaking it. He felt in a dreamlike state. Why am I doing this? he asked himself.
     I don’t want to play football! I want to play soccer!
    On the other hand, Jabber saw how happy it had made Pete to think that he had changed his mind. And, if there were a lingering
     doubt in Pete’s mind about Jabber’s stealing his money, Jabber’s shift to football would undoubtedly erase that, too.
    “You tell Mom about this and she’ll be happier than if you got her a hundred plants and flowers for her birthday,” said Pete.
     “She’s always wanted both of us to follow in Dad’s footsteps in football, you know.”
    “She really likes football that much, does she?” asked Tony.
    “Likes it? She never missed a game Dad played in,” replied Pete enthusiastically.
    “Does she go to your games?”
    “Well, no. She doesn’t have the time. She works all week, and on weekends she washes clothes, cleans up the house, et cetera,
     et cetera. Even with all of us helping out, my mother’s a real busy woman.”
    She could find the time to go if she wanted to, thought Jabber. But if she went to see Pete play, she would have to make the
     time to see me play. It would be easier on everybody if I played football.
    As they approached Knob Hill they saw a hang-glider already in the air. It was shifting briskly. Either the pilot was new
     at the controls, or the wind was unusually strong.
    They drove up the hill and parked a few yards away from the only other car there. A girl was leaning against its front bumper,
     watching the hang-glider with more concern than interest. She glanced briefly at the newcomers, then shifted her attention
     back to the glider.
    “That’s Jane Wallace,” said Tony. “And that’s TomMiller flying the wing. He’s not bad, but that wind is giving him a rough time. What do you think, Pete?”
    “I’ve flown in stronger winds than this,” replied Pete boldly. “Anyway, if Miller isn’t scared, we’re not going to chicken
     out, are we?”
    Tony shrugged. “Okay.”
    The wind was changeable and stronger than any Jabber remembered experiencing before when he and Pete had come here to hang-glide.
     Deep inside he wished Pete would reconsider. But he knew his brother. Pete was fearless, proud. If Tom Miller was brave enough
     to hang-glide in this wind, Pete would be, too. Tony was just obliging Pete.
    They removed the hang-gliders from the roof of the car, opened them, harnessed themselves, and prepared for flight.
    “You first,” said Tony.
    A grin played across Pete’s face. This was a sport he loved as much as football. He ran a short distance down the steep hill
     and took off. Instantly the strong wind caught the underside of his wing and carried him quickly up fifty feet.
    Jabber’s heart leaped as he stared frantically at theyellow wing, at Pete strapped in it, and his dangling legs.
    He shifted his attention to Tony. Tony hadn’t moved. He looked worried. Already Pete was having a rough time.
    “He shouldn’t have gone,” exclaimed Jabber. “I knew he shouldn’t have gone. But you can’t tell