Murphy & Mousetrap Read Online Free PDF Page B

called.
    The boys gathered around him. Albert stood taller than any of the others. One boy was no taller than Murphy. Another boy was light colored with skin not much darker than Murphy’s.
    â€œThis is Murphy,” Albert said. “They say he’s a relative. But he ain’t no soccer player.”
    The boys nodded, but no one spoke until Jeff said, “He’s my cousin. Murphy just moved here.”
    Then the small boy called, “Hi,” over his shoulder as he ran down the field kicking the ball.
    â€œWe’re gonna start,” Albert shouted.
    â€œSeeing that you haven’t played before,” Albert said to Murphy, “why don’t you play goalie?”
    â€œNo way,” Jeff said. “You’re the goalie, Albert. He’s not gonna be able to stop a thing.”
    â€œI don’t mind,” Albert said as if he was doing Murphy a favor. “He can play my position for a while.”
    A tall kid with big front teeth and glasses laughed out loud. He punched Albert in the side and said, “Let’s do it, Al,” sounding like they knew something no one else knew.
    â€œI don’t think I’d be good as goalie,” Murphy said.
    No one paid any attention to him. The boys hurried into the field and started passing the ball from foot to foot.
    â€œJust stand here,” Jeff said. “And keep the ball out of the net.”
    The ball flew from player to player so fast Murphy could barely keep his eyes on it. Some boys kicked the ball toward Murphy,and others kicked it the other way. The other goal was empty, which confused Murphy. What sort of game were they playing?
    All the kicking took place near the center of the field, so Murphy had time to look at the goal posts behind him. They were far apart. He looked over his head at the bar across the top of the net. It was twice as high as he was. Between the net and where he was standing was a deep puddle of muddy water. If anybody shot the ball at the net there wasn’t one chance in a million that Murphy could keep it out.
    He watched the boys passing the ball from foot to foot and calling out, “Behind you,” “In front,” “Over here,” “Nice one.”
    The running looked exhausting, but at that moment Murphy wished he had played soccer at school. At least he would know what they were doing. Being the goalie wasn’t turning out so bad as long as the boys kicking the ball away from the net stopped the boys from kicking it toward the net.
    All the standing around gave Murphy time to think. What would he do if the ball camehurtling toward him? He needed a plan. It only took him a moment to decide that he would jump out of its way and let it hit the net. After a few shots the boys would learn that Murphy wasn’t a goalkeeper. Then maybe they would realize that he wasn’t a soccer player either.
    Just when Murphy became sure of his plan, he caught a flash of the soccer ball whizzing through the air toward him. Nose level. Straight for his face.
    He had no time to think about moving and letting the ball fly into the net. Instead, he raised his hands and stopped the ball just before it smashed into his face.
Splat
! He stumbled backward wet up to his knees in the puddle. He struggled to breathe. His arms and fingers felt like they had been run over by a truck. But the ball was still lodged between them.
    He wheezed heavily and stood frozen up to his knees in the mud, still gripping the ball between his hands. Albert charged him, grabbed the ball and yelled, “You’re supposed to throw it back in, you idiot!”
    Air finally reached Murphy’s lungs, and the fuzz in his brain cleared. He heard the boys calling to each other, “Wow, did you see that little white kid make that save?” “He looks like he’s been in goal before.”
    Murphy’s joints felt as if they had been welded together. When the play moved away to center field, he