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dropped it in a heap on the grass. The tank top he wore was skintight. Troy and Ty could see that Chuku’s muscles were like steel cables.
    â€œYou want my Jets T-shirt?” Troy asked.
    â€œThat’s no bet. You think I’m a chump?” Chuku laughed. “Bet something that matters. This thing is game-worn . This goes for three grand if you want to buy it. You got anything worth that much?”
    Troy wanted to scream that he made five million dollars, but he didn’t have the money and he sure didn’t want to have to explain to this kid why not. Then he had an idea.
    â€œI got these .” Troy whipped the tickets and backstage passes out of his shorts without even thinking. “And even a pencil neck from Baltimore knows they’re worth two of those Ray Lewis jerseys.”
    Chuku studied the backstage passes and the tickets, unable to hide his surprise. “Helena? Where’d you get these?”
    â€œNothing for you to worry about.” Troy dropped the passes and tickets down on top of the purple jersey. “You just worry about how you’re gonna get another Ray Lewis jersey so you don’t have to tell your kids one day about the one you used to have. Let’s go.” Troy pointed to the goal line. “You two get on the line.”
    â€œTroy,” Ty said, “I don’t think—”
    Troy cut him off. “Just line up and run this big mouth’s butt into the ground. I always wanted a Ray Lewis game-worn jersey.”
    â€œThat’s right, line up, Chicken Little.” Chuku flicked his legs out into the air, stretching them before he got into a sprinter’s stance on the goal line. “The sky is fallin’. ”
    Ty shook his head, sighed, and got into his stance.
    Troy marched to the forty-yard line and turned around. He raised a hand. “On your mark . . . get set . . . go!”
    Ty and Chuku burst out of their stances and ran toward Troy like rockets riding the wind.

CHAPTER ELEVEN
    IT WAS CLOSE, THAT’S all Troy could say.
    â€œI tried.” Ty was breathing heavily. “He’s fast.”
    â€œTold you.” Chuku was relaxed and casual. “Backstage. Dang. You guys want to throw the ball? My hands are as good as my feet, maybe better. Nah, maybe nothing’s better than my feet. Ha ha.”
    â€œYeah, let’s. Come on already.” Ty grabbed the football and tossed it to Troy.
    On the other field, the scouts were running Chuku’s dad through another drill and timing him with their watches.
    Troy’s head still spun from losing, but he set up in the middle of the field so he could call out routes for the two of them to run, as if everything were fine. He certainly wasn’t going to act as if the whole thing bothered him. He sent Ty on a post route and connected with a bullet. From the corner of his eye, he watched for a reaction from Chuku, but the new kid either didn’t see or wasn’t impressed. Troy burned inside.
    â€œRun a ten-yard comeback,” Troy said to Chuku, then barked out a cadence and pretended to take a snap.
    Troy took a three-step drop and rifled the ball at Chuku’s head before he even got out of his break. The laces whistled and for an instant, Troy almost felt bad. Chuku planted a foot at ten yards and broke back. The ball was on him, but Chuku’s arms popped up like toast. The ball didn’t even make a sound, so soft were his hands. Chuku tucked the ball and broke back up field, running all the way to the end zone.
    â€œTouchdown.” Chuku laughed to himself.
    Troy ground his teeth.
    From the other side of the field, Chuku’s father shouted through cupped hands, “Chuku! I’ll be out in a while! You good?”
    â€œI’m good!” Chuku returned the shout and the three men disappeared back inside.
    Troy wondered how long Chuku would be weighing them down, but as time wore on, two things happened.