Left Out Read Online Free PDF Page A

into his mouth.
    â€œWhat’s that mean?” Landon asked.
    â€œWell . . .” His father worked the ice cream around in his mouth and swallowed. “Discipline is you sacrificing—giving up something—for a greater cause. The Spartans were Greek warriors known for their harsh training. They were even crazy enough, I believe, to forgo butter pecan.”
    â€œI know Spartans.”
    â€œAnd now you’ve become one.” His father bowed his head toward Landon.
    â€œThat’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” Landon glanced toward the hall, nervous that his mother might interrupt them. “Everything is going good. I passed my physical. The doctor said I could play. My implants are fine. Heck, he even told Mom playing football would be good for me.” Landon patted his gut.
    â€œWonderful.” His father took another big bite.
    â€œBut I need that helmet, and the special cap that goes under it,” Landon said. “Football starts next Wednesday. The firstfive days it’s just conditioning and running through plays, but helmets go on next week, and then the week after that we start to hit. But I need the helmet before so I can get used to it.”
    His father’s eyes widened.
    â€œI told Mom we gotta get my helmet and she keeps saying she’ll work on it and how expensive it is, but next Wednesday will be here before you know it, and you can’t just snap your fingers and have a helmet fall out of the sky. It’s like she’s trying to sabotage the whole thing by delaying, making it so I won’t have enough practices to play in the first game and then I will end up as the manager.”
    His father put the spoon down and looked at it. “Yes, that’s a problem, and I’ve seen this kind of strategy before. I wanted to see Carmina Burana . It was playing at the Cleveland Opera Theater, and your mom said she’d be happy to go and that she’d get the tickets through her office because they were sponsors. Well, I thought that sounded good because we could be in the pit or maybe even a box. Then the day before, when I asked, she snapped her fingers and said she was on it, but that night at dinner she announced that it had been sold out.” Landon’s father blinked at him. “Your mother hates the opera.”
    â€œJust like football.” Landon looked down and rapped his knuckles on the table before looking back up. “Can you help me, Dad?”

7
    Landon peered over his father’s shoulder. They were back at his desk, with the spoons rinsed and tucked away in the dishwasher. His father typed and then clicked, bringing up the website for Xenith Helmets, a company that made specialty sports helmets of every kind. They got to the football section and his father scanned the material quickly, his lips moving fast and silently, before he tapped the screen and leaned back.
    â€œIt’s ingenious, really,” he said. “There’s a diaphragm in the lining, like a couple of mini beach rafts you can inflate. It says you can play football with the processors right behind your ears. I thought you’d have to take them out for sure, like you do for swimming.”
    Landon nodded because he already knew all this, but he didn’t want to dampen his father’s excitement. “That’s awesome.”
    â€œLet’s see . . .” His father tilted his head back for a better look. “We measure your head . . .”
    â€œI can get the tape measure from the garage.” Landon was already up and going. When he returned he was thrilled to see that his father had most of the order form already filled out. They wrapped the tape around Landon’s head.
    â€œTwenty-four,” his father said. “I’m a twenty- nine. You believe that? Here, let me show you.”
    Landon’s father wrapped the metal tape around his own head as proof, chuckling before he turned his attention back to the