"Goddamn it all!" Coach shouted.

After practice, Coach called me into his office. He handed me a DVD.

"Watch this tonight, Reinstein. It's Walter Payton, maybe the greatest running back ever. Watch how patient he is. Pay attention to his footwork. He's why I gave you number 34. I want you to be great."

After dinner, even though I'd sort of had my fill of football, I popped the DVD in and watchedaand watchedaand watchedaand watchedaand, quite startlingly, I seemed to figure something out. Walter Payton played for the Chicago Bears mostly in the 1980s when my dad was in Chicago. He had a big fro and wore a headband and seemed to smile a lot. The DVD was titled Sweetness, maybe because he smiled so much. He died for some reason in 1999. "Sweetness," 1954a"1999. The DVD was mostly filled with highlights of him running the ball. And, most important, this hit me really big: Walter Payton ran with a football like Aleah plays piano. He was totally under control when he got a handoff. He took small steps to go slow, even occasionally reached out and put his hand on his lineman's back to make sure he stayed behind his blocker. Sort of like Aleah when she played the simple birthday song for me, quiet and controlled. Then when the hole opened, the opportunity came, and, just like Aleah, he exploded forward. It was almost like he was falling, barely under control at all, and he was ferocious and unforgiving, and he crushed anybody who got in his way. There was no talking on the DVD, only bad music. I turned off the sound so it was completely silent. I'd watch a play in normal speed and then watch it in slow motion. It was so beautiful. Walter Payton running was so beautiful. Number 34. I couldn't take my eyes off him. It was like watching Aleah, and seriously, I figured something out.

The next day in practice, when Cody handed me the ball, I took short steps and ran low and slow. If I got close to my lineman, I'd slow way down and wait. If it was a toss, I'd barely run until I saw where my tackle (Reese) was. Then when a hole opened, the opportunity, I uncoiled and exploded through.

"Holy cats!" Coach yelled. "That's what I'm talking about!" He clapped his hands.

Reese looked much happier.

"Thanks, Rein Stone," he said in the huddle.

I told Aleah about Walter Payton that night.

"I know who he is," she said. "I'm from Chicago, you know."

"He played football like you play piano."

Aleah shouted to Ronald that I compared her piano playing to Walter Payton running.

"I love that kid!" Ronald yelled in the background.

On Wednesday, everything seemed slower. I remembered my blocking assignments. I ran my routes. I took small steps and then exploded. "We're getting there!" Coach yelled. We practiced against a scout defense that included a guy wearing a red jersey. He was supposed to be Jay Landry.

"This kid is a killer. You have to know where he is at all times, Cody. You got it?"

"Yeah, Coach," Cody said.

That killer thing made me a little nervous. But the scout team Jay Landry couldn't come close to me.

"Real Jay Landry is going to be a lot faster," Coach yelled.

On Thursday, we barely practiced. We just walked through plays so we wouldn't be tired for the game. I knew the plays. Then we watched video of St. Mary's Springs. Oh my God. Jay Landry wasn't the only killer.

At home, Grandma Berba made her lasagna.

"You need to carbo-load, Felton," she said.

"What's that mean?" I asked.

"I like Jerri's lasagna better," Andrew said, playing with a noodle.

"No offense to Jerri, but no way," I said.

"Eat," Grandma said, "You'll need your energy tomorrow!"

"I miss Jerri," Andrew moaned. Then as if they were psychically connected, the phone rang. We put it on speaker and ate and talked. Jerri climbed a big red rock that day using rock-climbing gear.

"I want to visit," Andrew moaned.

"Soon enough," Grandma said.

I felt sort of weird after Jerri's call. She wished me good luck for the game. It was weird she wouldn't be there, and it was hard to believe I'd be playing in an actual game against a really good team in 24 hours and that there would be people in the stands and that the other team would try to knock me down and break my legs. Weird. I was a little wound up.

I went out through the garage, pulled a lawn chair out into the driveway, and stared out down the drive and across the road. I breathed deep to relax. I could hear the drunk golfer dads whacking golf balls up on the course. I could hear a tractor driving in the distance. Someone squealed their tires around a corner (the Randles?). Just then a figure crested the hill on a bike. I stood up and took a couple of steps forward. The person coasted down to our drive and then turned and pedaled up toward the house.

"HolyaGus! Gus! Hey!" I shouted.

Gus pulled up in front of me.

"Hello, my long lost friend. What up with you?"

His hair wad was gone. I could see his eyes.

"They made you cut the wad."

"Yeah, it drove Grandma psycho, man. So Mom made me cut it."

"That sucks!"

"You know, I kind of like being able to see."

He got off his bike and walked over to me. Then stopped, stood there, stunned, shaking his head.

"Jesus Christ, Felton. You're huge,"

"I know."

"What thea? You got huge!"

"I know. Weird, huh?"

"I mean, you're enormous!"

"I know."

"What the hell did you do?"

"Well." I took a deep breath. This was sort of hard to say to him. "I'm the starting tailback on the football team."

"Oh, man," Gus said. He plopped down on my lawn chair, covered his eyes with his hands. "I should never have left."

"Did your grandma die?"

"No. She's fine." He looked up at me, and we both laughed. I grabbed another lawn chair from the garage.

We sat out in the driveway until the sun went down. We had a good time. He told me about Caracas (no friends, no fun, bad fooda"he really liked it though). I told him about Jerri and Aleah and my dad. He was appropriately dumbstruck about Jerri (even though I wrote hima"he didn't know I was serious).

He apologized.

"I'm dumb. I got jealous because of your Aleah email and then the jock stuff. If I'd known Jerri really was going crazy, I wouldn't have been such an ass. I think I wouldn't have been. Maybe I would've been. I'm an ass, Felton."

"You're an ass? No. I'm an ass."

"Yeah. No shit, Felton. That's true."

Then Gus said something sort of weird.

"I always knew your dad was huge. I remember him. You should have asked me."

"Asked you what?"

"If he looked like you."

"Did he?"

"I don't know. Probably," he laughed. "He was your dad after all. I guess I remember he was a lot bigger than my dad. Really big."

"He was big."

Gus wasn't exactly happy about all my new friends.

"They're not bad, man. Seriously."

"I'll deal," he said.

"You can always hang out with Peter Yang and the debaters."

"I guess I'll take my chances with the honkies."

Before he left, he promised to come to the game, even though he thought it was ridiculous. And I got some very good news out of him.

"Mom says I have to take my paper route back."

"You mean tomorrow?" I asked.

"Do I have a choice?"

"No, you don't." I stood and raised my hands over my head "I'm done! I'm done!" I'd been staring at my dad's crazy lover in a nursing home all summer. She'd been screaming at me all summer. "I'm done!" Then I thought about Aleah in her tiger-striped bike helmet and wished I could do the route with her forever.

"You done celebrating?" Gus asked.

"Yes."

"I'm out," he said and biked away.

I got even better news later in the evening. I called Aleah, and before she even said hello, she shouted, "Daddy and I are driving up to your game!"

"What?"

"We're leaving at noon! We're staying all weekend!"

I was totally dumbstruck, overcome like an emotional donkey.

"Tell Ronald thanks," I swallowed hard. "Really. Seriously, Aleah. Tell him thanks."

"I can't wait!" she shouted.

I'll be honest. I had a hard time going to bed. I'm jumpy. Have I said? And there was a game, and Gus was home, and Aleah would be here, and Jerri did rock climbing, and Andrew played piano again. I really couldn't sleep. But I couldn't run, you know? I had to conserve energy. I had a game to play. There was a killer! A killer! On that team! Jay Landry, killer! I seriously couldn't sleep. Not at all. Then I thought about Jerri and just repeated, "Om shanti shanti shanti shanti."

I fell asleep and slept until beautiful noon this morning (I mean, yesterday morning).

CHAPTER 63: LAST NIGHT'S GAME.

It's 7:06 a.m., and I can smell Grandma's coffee. Andrew just got up. Now he's plinking the piano. Okay. Grandma will start cooking soon.

I spotted Aleah in the stands right away (she's still in town, and I didn't sleep all nighta"aahh!). She waved and jumped up and down. I waved back. I wanted to go up there, but you can't go into the stands before games. I asked Karpinski. "Are you kidding me, Rein Stone? No." I completely would have otherwise. I waved. Ronald waved too.

Bluffton High School plays games at the college stadium. It's pretty big. But as it got closer to the kickoff, the stands got totally packed, completely packed. Football is apparently a big deal in Bluffton. I had no clue. I'd never even been to a game before.

While we did pregame stuff, ran pass routes, stretched, ran a few plays, I made sure I spotted Grandma and Andrew too. They were sitting near the front. They waved and smiled. Andrew brought this little pendant thing from his room that says BEETHOVEN! on it. He waved that. He's gutsy. I also found Gus. He was with Peter Yang and the debaters in the student section. He spread his arms and nodded and smiled. He really looked better with the hair wad. Poor guy. I pointed at Aleah, but I don't think Gus got the message. Then I thought, better concentrate. Warm up.

I breathed deep. The moon was up. Those big stadium lights were on. So bright. The field was so green too. The air smelled really good. It was Bluffton air, but different.

"Can you smell the food stand?" I asked Cody.

"You freak, Reinstein," he smiled. "I don't know."

As the St. Mary's Springs players ran out on the field, they said a bunch of jerky stuff, told us to get ready for an ass-whipping, etc. They were big for sure. Jay Landry, number 18, was easily my size. I watched him. He looked around, scanning our side of the field. He locked in on me. He wouldn't take his eyes off me. He pointed. "You ready for this, 34?" he shouted. 34? My number. Donkey adrenaline surged in my veins.

In the locker room before kickoff, Coach said, "Don't back down. They'll try to intimidate you. Don't back down." I had to jump up and down. "Don't back down."

We won the toss. We elected to receive. Cody, our captain, ran to the sideline after the toss, pissed off. "These guys think they're going to run over us."

"Run it back, Rein Stone. Let's show 'em right away," Karpinski said.