Free Soccer Halfback by Matt Christopher Page B

will want to ask you for some information. The hospital will need it for
     its records.”
    “Okay.”
    Jabber entered the office and sat down. The girlacross the desk from him smiled. “Hello,” she greeted him amiably. “Can I help you?”
    Jabber wet his lips nervously. He felt hot and uncomfortable. He had never been in a hospital before, except when he was born,
     and he certainly couldn’t remember that.
    He heard footsteps beside him, and felt a wave of relief as Tony Dranger came alongside him. With Tony as moral support, he
     had little difficulty from then on in answering the questions that the girl posed to him as she filled out a hospital form.
    Two hours later, his leg in a cast, Pete was lying in a bed in Room 214 on the second floor. There was another bed in his
     room. A man was in it, sleeping soundly.
    Jabber was there with his mother, Karen, Uncle Jerry, and Aunt Doris.
    “Talk about lousy luck,” grumbled Pete, sitting up in bed. “There goes football for the rest of the year. And the season’s
     hardly started.”
    “You have no one to blame but yourself,” saidKaren, sitting on the edge of the bed. “The wind’s been blowing hard all day. You shouldn’t have risked flying that wing.”
    “My other mother,” snorted Pete. “Listen, I’ve flown that wing in stiff winds before. One of those gusts just caught me by
     surprise, that’s all.”
    He crossed his arms firmly over his chest, and Jabber saw the tape around his right wrist.
    “What about the wrist?” he asked.
    “Sprained, just like I said,” replied Pete.
    “They tell you how long you might be in here?” asked Uncle Jerry.
    “Two days at least,” said Pete. “Maybe three or four. I don’t know.”
    He sounded disgruntled, angry.
    “Take it easy,” said his aunt. She was a tall, stately woman with short-clipped, frosted hair and a warm, tender smile. “There
     have been lots of athletes who’ve had injuries much worse than yours, who came back and played in just a few short weeks.
     Don’t take it so hard.”
    “Right,” said Uncle Jerry. “Heck, it happens all the time.”
    He went on to tell how it had once happenedto him, and Jabber wondered if Pete was beginning to feel as he did. Listening to a pile of suggestions on how to ignore
     the despairing side of life and capitalize on its positive side was boring him to sleep.
    Pete stopped the flow of platitudes with a raise of his hand. “If you’ll pardon my interruption,” he said, “Jabber’s got some
     news for you good people. Tell ’em, Jabber.”
    Jabber stared at Pete.
    “Go on,” insisted Pete. “Tell ’em. Don’t just stand there.”
    Jabber felt everyone’s eyes focused on him. They waited, patiently.
    Pete had him over a barrel. What could he say? He was trapped.
    “I’m thinking of quitting soccer and playing football,” he said, his heart pounding.
    “Hey! How about that?” exclaimed Uncle Jerry. “It’s about time!”
    “Well!” said Mrs. Morris, her eyes widening. “And when did you decide to do that?”
    “Probably when he found out that Pete had broken his leg,” said Karen impudently.
    Jabber blushed. “That’s not so,” he said, embarrassed. “I spoke about it to Pete and Tony on the way to Knob Hill.”
    “That’s right, he did,” vouched Pete. “But you said the same thing now that you said then, Jabber. You said you’re
thinking
about quitting. Aren’t you sure?”
    Jabber met his eyes. “Almost,” he said.
    “Well, fine,” said Uncle Jerry. “And on that happy note, what do you say we retreat? It’s almost the end of visiting time,
     anyway.”
    Jabber was glad to leave. But in the car, on their way home, Karen hardly said a word to him. She was in front with their
     mother, who was talking about Pete and his foolish desire to fly hang-gliders; Jabber rode alone in the back seat.
    “Someday he’ll grow up and see how crazy it is,” his mother said. “And I think you should quit it, too,” she