Split Decision Read Online Free PDF

shrugged. “Well, Gerber was hurt, or I would probably have been number-two guy.”
    “He’s healthy now, isn’t he?”
    “Oh, yeah,” Drew said with a laugh. “Stress fracture must be history now—because I’ve seen him tearing up High School Hill like he’s late for lunch. He can fly.”
    “Well, so can you.”
    “I don’t know, Cody. I’m honestly not sure I can hang with Gerber. Not yet anyway.”
    “It will be interesting to see you two go head-to-head.”
    Drew shrugged again. “Yeah, I guess so. He has more God-given talent than I do, but if it comes down to who’s willing to endure the most pain, I like my chances.”
    With that, Drew interlaced his fingers and stretched them slowly above his head. Drew Phelps was catlike in the way he stretched, Cody noted. Always smooth, purposeful, and slow, never jerking or bouncing, the way most of the guys in Cody’s frosh PE class went about it.
    “So,” Drew said, after lowering his arms, “what about you, Cody? I bet you break five minutes in the mile this season. That’ll place you at the freshman conference meet, for sure.”
    “There’s no way, Phelps,” Cody scoffed.
    “C’mon, Code. Don’t talk like that. Remember what I always tell you—Believe it; then achieve it.”
    Cody shook his head dismissively. “You don’t understand, dude. I’m not breaking five minutes, because I’m not running track. I’m playing baseball.”
    Drew took two steps backward, like a boxer who had just been tagged with a stiff jab. “What?!” he said. “I can’t believe this! What about all those morning runs we’ve taken this year? We’ve talked about track a lot. I just assumed that we … I mean—when did you decide this, Cody?”
    Cody felt the muscles in his neck constricting. “Uh,” he began, “I guess I didn’t really make some big formal decision. Coach Curtis just asked me a few days ago if I was going to play baseball, and I said yes.”
    Drew put his hands on his hips. “But why did you say yes? I don’t get it. You’re a natural runner; I’ve told you that. When he was handing out legs and lungs, God smiled on you, big-time!”
    Cody felt like he wanted to squirm out of his own skin. “I don’t know what to tell ya, Phelps. I guess it’s just that I’ve always played baseball—ever since I was big enough to whack a ball off a tee.”
    “But Code,” Drew said, his voice sounding wounded, “baseball has been a summer sport for you, not a school sport. Now you’re gonna have to make a choice. Just like Chop did when he picked basketball over wrestling this year. And, do you have any idea of how bad Clayton’s gonna freak? He’s so psyched to move up from eighth-grade head track coach to high school distance coach. He was counting on you. So was I.”
    Cody tried to swallow. It felt like he was trying to swallow a hard-boiled egg—shell and all. “Well, I’m sorry, Phelps. But I’m kinda committed now. I can’t go back on what I told Coach Curtis. Besides, it’s like seventy-five percent certain that Chop’s gonna move this summer, and it’s only right that we have one last sport season together.”
    Drew arched his left eyebrow. “Uh, Code,” he said, words flowing slowly, like thick syrup, “when practices start in a coupla days, what makes you think Chop’s playing baseball?”
    Cody felt panic ripple down his spine. “What? Did the big man say something to you? Because I know Chop’s a total seam-head, just like me. He loves baseball. It’s safe to assume—”
    “Cody,” Drew said in an unsettling parental tone, “it’s never safe to assume. Remember, I assumed you were running track with me. That’s the problem with assumptions. Try giving assumptions on your next algebra test—instead of answers. See what happens.”
    “Whatever,” Cody said wearily. “I’ll file that advice under More Wise Words from Dr. Phelps, but, meanwhile … What do you know about Chop and track? I can tell you’re holding