Button Down Read Online Free PDF Page B

found.”
    Tugs rolled her eyes at Ned over Gladdy’s head.
    “Great, Gladdy,” said Ned.
    “Mel says the fellows who didn’t get picked are getting up a couple of teams,” said Tugs. “Did you get the football back?”
    “No, I . . .” Ned stammered.
    “They asked him to be quarterback, but he didn’t want to,” said Ralph.
    “Then you can come with us,” said Tugs. “We’ll drop Gladdy off and go downtown. Aggie can get us a soda.”
    Ned watched the other boys run out to the field. Burton’s and Clyde’s boys waited for Burton to throw the ball. Franklin and Mel had pulled together two teams on a sliver of the field’s edge. Franklin’s whole team ran in a bunch after Mel, who was carrying the paper football. Burton tossed his ball to one of his players, then purposefully ran into Franklin’s path, tripping him.
    “Maybe tomorrow, Tugs,” said Ned. “Come on, Ralph. Let’s get him.”
    “That’s our part of the field!” Ned hollered as they ran toward Burton.
    “Beat it, Burton!” shouted Ralph.
    But Burton was already sauntering back to his team. “You girls better stay out of our way,” he called over his shoulder.
    “I know some girls who could play better than you,” Ned yelled. He helped Franklin up.
    “Thanks,” said Franklin. “Does this mean you’ll play?”
    “I guess,” said Ned. “But I want to try some stuff my granddaddy showed me. Strategy. Like checkers.”
    There were no apples, but there was plenty of dirt. He took a stick and drew a line of
X
s and a line of
O
s. “See, the
X
s and
O
s are like players.”
    Paul grabbed a stick and drew an unmentionable. Franklin hit him and they tumbled onto the dirt, erasing Ned’s drawings and Paul’s. Ned pushed Ralph for good measure, and Ralph shoved Mel, and soon they were all chasing and whooping it up.
    “That’s not very ladylike behavior,” hollered Burton.
    Ned and Ralph and the others stood there trying to think of a clever retort. “We’re not ladies,” said Mel.
    “Come on,” said Ned. “Let’s just try it.” He showed them again, this time standing them in lines and giving them positions to play.
    They were slow and clumsy, but when Ned threw the paper-and-twine football, Ralph caught it and ran for the sidewalk. “Touchdown!”

Goodhue was busting with Hawkeye fever. The green awnings that had shaded the windows of the Ward’s Ben Franklin since aught seven had been replaced with black-and-gold-striped awnings. Yellow mums sprouted in window boxes from Zip’s Hardware all the way down to Pepper’s Photography. Al and Irene printed new luncheon menus, renaming the Reuben sandwich the
Lester
and the chicken soup
Hawk Stew
. Irene hand printed a sign for the luncheonette’s window stating LESTER WARD EATS HERE . Zip’s had a special on radios, touting the radio as a “citizen’s way to support our town’s favorite son.”
    The stripes on Verlon Leek’s barbershop pole, however, remained red and white despite enthusiastic suggestion that they be repainted.
    Today the door stood open, propped by a box of nails. Ned was on his way to buy some tobacco for Granddaddy, but he paused to listen for the radio that played nearly continually in the shop. Ned liked to hear the voices coming through that box. The men sounded big and far away. But near at the same time. A city as vast and distant as Chicago could enter right into Mr. Leek’s barbershop in Goodhue, Iowa. It was something to behold.
    “What do you know for sure?” said Mr. Leek.
    “They’re going to talk about Lester Ward in there,” Ned said, stepping into the shop and nodding his head toward the radio.
    “Sure they will,” said Mr. Leek. “If he gets played. Don’t get your hopes up this year. He’s a freshman. He may or may not get on the field.”
    “He’s the best. They’ll play him,” said Ned.
    Mr. Leek was giving Mr. Jackson a shave.
    “Hmmbfff,” said Mr. Jackson.
    “What’s that, Milo?” Mr. Leek said, holding the