Takedown Read Online Free PDF Page B

and grab his arms. Instantly the pain stoppedas Max released my arm and wrist. The figure pulled him away and hung onto him, despite Max’s trying to shake himself loose.
    Silhouetted against the sky the figure looked familiar.
    “Okay, you guys,” his voice — familiar, too — cut in. “Break it up. Fast.”

6
    “Smart hold that was, but illegal. And you knew it, didn’t you?” Clint Wagner said to Max. “You only use a wristlock when
     your legal moves don’t work. And I can’t say I saw you use any of those on Sean.”
    I rose to my feet, wondering: How long had he been watching us before he’d decided to break up our fight?
    Max looked at him. His jaw muscles moved, but he kept his mouth clamped shut.
    “Okay. Take off. All three of you,” Clint ordered, shoving Max toward Nyles and McNeer. “You should’ve been heading for home,
     anyway, after those wrestling matches, not hangingaround here like street bums. Go on! Scram! Or I’ll show you what real wrestling is!”
    The three glared at him for a few seconds, then headed down the street past Hungry Mike’s, Max looking so angry that he could
     have chewed leather.
    I looked at Clint. “Thanks, Mr. Wagner,” I said. “I guess you got here in the nick of time.”
    He grinned. “You boys want a ride home?”
    “I think that’s a great idea!” Bull answered, wiping his sweating face with a handkerchief.
    Clint led us around the side of the restaurant to his yellow jalopy, and we got in. “What started the fight?” he asked, as
     we drove out of the parking lot and headed down the street.
    Neither Bull nor I said anything for a minute. Finally I told him about my finding Max’s button with the words I AM KING on it.
    “Why don’t you want to give it back to him?”
    I shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe I will… someday.”
    Clint grinned at me. “When he proves he is king, right?”
    I shrugged again. “The kind of guy he is,” I said, “I doubt he can be king of anything.”
    Clint nodded. “Well said, my friend.”
    We changed the topic and talked about the wrestling matches until we got to Bull’s house. Bull thanked Clint for the ride,
     then I gave Clint my address and we headed for it.
    “I just got a terrific idea,” he said as he turned down Orange Avenue, my street. “How’d you like to go fishing with me Saturday
     morning?”
    I stared at him. Fishing? I’d never fished in my life! Dad didn’t care for it, so I hadn’t ever thought about it.
    “Sure,” I said, “I’d like to. But…” I paused, thinking.
    “But, what?”
    I didn’t want to tell him that my father had never taken me. I also wasn’t sure Mom would permit it.
    “For one thing, I don’t have a fishing pole,” I said, which was the truth.
    He looked at me. Dark tree shadows danced across his face. “Let me guess. You’ve never fished before, right?”
    “Right.”
    “Oh, you’ll love it. One thing about fishing: even if you don’t catch anything, it’s fun!”
    I laughed.
    “The pole’s no problem,” he said. “I’ve got three or four of them. Ask your parents if it’s okay — I know you’ve got to do
     that — then give me a call Friday night. Okay?”
    Why did I feel so good all of a sudden? Why, when I’d met Clint only a few months ago, did it now seem as if I’d known him
     all my life? He was friendly, sympathetic, and understanding — attributes a kid would expect in his father. Except my father
     had never shown me those attributes.
    I felt a lump come to my throat and took a deep breath. “Okay,” I replied. “I’ll call you Friday night.”
    “Great!”
    We were driving up to the curb in front of my house when I saw the red taillights of our car wink out in the garage. Had Mom
     and Carl just arrived home? They should’ve been home at least half an hour ago. Why were they so late?
    The lights were on in the house, so I assumed that Dad was up, probably still doing bookwork or watching television.

    I got out of