THE NEW KID   Below are the first three chapters of my novel, The New Kid, Book One in the Franklin City Sports Series for Young (and Young-At-Heart) Readers. I'b about halfway through the writing process. Interested parties are encouraged to contact me.    By Terry Frei PO Box 12610 Denver CO 80212 terry@terryfrei.com       THE FRANKLIN CITY SPORTS SERIES CONCEPT  In Book One, The New Kid, Bobby Runyon – a sophomore who already has been a second-team All-State quarterback in Pullman, Washington – is uprooted and moves when his father is named linebackers coach of the National Football League's Franklin City Lumberjacks. He faces the challenges of a move to a big city and a new school, Watkins Ridge High, with such pressures as considerable media attention and recruiting pitches in advance of his arrival, YouTube video of his star quarterback play, and high expectations preceding him. He's just trying to be a kid and gravitates to an eclectic circle of friends, athletes and non-athletes alike, including a potential Olympic girl gymnast and a musical theater ingénue. He frustrates his new football coach and other adults who can't understand why he has interests other than football. He settles in and plays for the Watkins Ridge baseball team to finish out his sophomore year. He will go on to football glory, under great pressure, in a subsequent book.        Franklin City is large enough to have major-league football, basketball, hockey and baseball franchises, plus a major university playing Division I sports in an adjacent college community, Lakeview. The books eventually can use all those athletic settings, plus high school and youth sports and issues. Though Bobby Runyon and Watkins Ridge High will be featured at the outset of the series, the cast eventually will be an evolving pool of young people, college students, and adults involved with sports in the area – in both inner-city areas and suburbs, and in everything from high school to professional sports, often linking them together. From book to book, readers will feel as if they are becoming part of the Franklin City region, while also recognizing that Franklin City has a bit of everywhere in it.  THE NEW KID: FIRST THREE CHAPTERS  Chapter 1   On a chilly Tuesday morning in late February, Bobby Runyon nervously eased the family Ford into the student parking lot outside his new high school’s gymnasium at one end of the three-floor building. Forty-five minutes before the first bell, only a few cars were in the lot.   As he took the key out of the ignition, his heart pounded. He took a deep breath, exhaled, and checked his face and hair in the rear-view mirror. Deciding he wanted to avoid looking as if he had nervously brushed his hair in front of a bathroom mirror, which was exactly what had done a half-hour earlier, he quickly ran his hand through it, mussing it just enough. Sliding the single-day parking pass onto the dashboard, he told himself: Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea, after all.    He pulled his book pack out of the back seat, closed and locked the car, and started walking.     The signboard on the side of the gym announced: WATKINS RIDGE HIGH SCHOOL  HOME OF THE FLYERS In a caricature on the sign, a combat airplane pilot from a long-ago war wore a leather helmet, goggles and a grin. The jaunty pilot looked considerably more confident than Bobby felt. And Bobby, two months past his 16th birthday late in his sophomore year after transferring in from Pullman, Washington, usually was one confident kid.    The deep voice startled him.   “Hey, kid … your badge.”   The tall man with dark hair confronting Bobby was maybe 35. His dark blue windbreaker had “WRHS SECURITY” in yellow on his chest. Bobby gave him a blank look. “Put on your ID badge!” the man barked. “You know better than that.”   The man pointed at his own badge, hanging from a chain around his neck.  Bobby took off his backpack, reached into the front flap and pulled out the Watkins Ridge ID badge stamped with his name – no picture – and TEMPORARY. Spotting it, the guy said, “Oh, maybe you don’t know better than that.”   Then he brightened and blurted,  “Hey, you’re the Lumberjack coach’s kid! The quarterback! All-state in Oregon …”   Bobby cut him off.   “Second team,” he said.   The guy’s look was quizzical.   “I was second team all-state,” Bobby explained. “And it was in Washington, not Oregon.”        “I didn't know you’d be here already! Do they know you’re coming?”   “Yeah.”   “Besides,” the guy said, “you were supposed to be taller – like 6-foot-4 or so.”   “I’ll work on that,” Bobby said dryly.    “Okay, I’ll take you to the office.”   Bobby followed him to what seemed to be a side door to the gym, where the guy held his badge against a keypad, causing the door to unlatch. Catching Bobby’s look, he asked, “You didn’t have these at your old school?”   Bobby shook his head.   The guy cracked the door a few inches, but held it there as he continued, “First lesson, New Kid: The only doors unlocked are the main ones – at the office, gym lobby, and auditorium lobby. Everywhere else, it takes a staff card to get in. You can come out, but don’t let anybody in or hold the door for them. Got that? Nobody! Not a kid, not a teacher, not the janitor. Nobody. All visitors have to go in the main door and check in with the security office. Everybody here understands – or should understand – that’s the way it has to be.”   Bobby nodded.   The guy held open the door and gestured for Bobby to go first. “By the way, they call me Officer Pete. At least that’s what they call me to my face.” As Bobby passed, entering a corner of the gym, the guy asked, “How tall are you really?”      “I’m 6-1,” Bobby said.    Bobby was exaggerating, but only by three-quarters of an inch.   Office Pete laughed. “Okay, whatever … but they say you can really throw the ball.”   “Who’s they?” Bobby asked.    “Everybody who’s seen you on YouTube. I think I’m the only one who hasn’t.” After a couple of steps, Officer Pete asked, “Hey, you play anything else?”   “Baseball,” Bobby said.    “Didn’t hear that!” Pete said. “Let me guess … you’re a pitcher and shortstop.”   “I’m a catcher.”   They emerged in the gym’s main lobby, with trophy cases and pictures of teams and past stars. Now this, Bobby thought, wasn’t that much different than Pullman. Hairstyles changed, uniforms got flashier, basketball shorts got longer, more girls appeared in the pictures as the years progressed.   “This,” Officer Pete said, pointing to a set of doors to their left, just ahead, “is the auxiliary gym. Just a sec …”   He walked to the doors, peered through the glass in one of them, and then wordlessly gestured at Bobby to join him. Bobby did and looked through the glass in the other door.   The smaller gym’s floor was covered with a gymnastics mat.   A compact bundle of a girl, cute and dark-skinned, with black hair gathered in a bow, was in gymnastics leotards with long sleeves, and was performing a floor-exercise routine. Bobby had seen gymnastics before, but never like this. She flew, tumbled, twisted, came within inches of the side of the mat, but didn’t reach it, then turned and went on. For about a minute, Bobby was mesmerized. She finished, flung her arms in the air and smiled. He was about to clap when Officer Peter gave him a little tap, and they resumed their walk down the hall.   “Who was that?” Bobby blurted.   “Anna Campos,” Pete said. “Pretty good, huh?”   “From what I could tell, more than pretty good."   “Two-time state champ in the all-around,” Pete said. “Only a sophomore. Like you, right?”   Bobby nodded.   “And she might – might – even be headed for the Olympics. Works out here most mornings and lunches on her own. Then she's at some gymnastics school on 44th Avenue…” – he pointed, though the direction meant nothing to Bobby – “…with her coach after school. Then she goes out of town a lot for national camps and stuff.”   “Wow,” said Bobby.   At the main lobby, a few kids coming through the main doors. It was more complicated than in Pullman, Bobby noticed. Here, you came through a first set of doors, and the little security office, with a receptionist-type window and ledge opening into the area.      “That’s where we are,” Officer Pete said, pointing. “Three of us, taking turns there, in the halls, and on the grounds. That’s where all visitors – all of ‘em – have to stop first.”   As they entered the nearby main office, a woman in her late 20s or early 30s, with straight black hair, was at the counter, sifting through a stack of subject cards. Sensing Bobby’s arrival, she looked up and smiled.   Officer Pete gestured at Bobby and announced, "Here's the New Kid!"   “Hi, Bobby,” she said. “I thought you’d be taller.”   Officer Pete laughed.   Her, too?   The woman caught herself. “I’m really sorry,” she said. “That was rude of me."   “No sweat,” Bobby said.   "I'm outta here," Officer Pete announced.  He reached out and shook Bobby's hand. "Welcome and good luck." Then he was gone.   “Let’s start over,” the woman said sheepishly. “I’m Mrs. Miller, a counselor here. Eleanor Miller. I met with your parents. Welcome to Watkins Ridge, Bobby.”   Bobby was tempted to tell her that they were even. She expected him to be taller. He had expected Mrs. Miller, the “nice counselor” his parents had instructed him to seek out, to be in her mid-50s with gray hair.    Mrs. Miller took Bobby to the attendance office to have his picture taken for the ID badge. She also gave Bobby a hangtag pass permit for the sophomores’ area of the parking lot, which was much farther back than where he had parked this morning.   Finally, he followed her to a little office. There was a second desk for another counselor, but nobody else was there. Lifting files off a chair, Mrs. Miller motioned Bobby to take it as she sat in the pivoting chair at her desk, which was adorned with several framed pictures. One was a shot of a tan and fit man Bobby assumed was her husband. Others showed her with student groups, and the one that most intrigued Bobby was of her with what appeared to be the costumed cast of a student theater production.   Noticing Bobby looking at that, she explained, "That's 'Kiss Me Kate' ... I did a little acting in high school and college, so I help out Mrs. LoSasso – that's her next to me – with the productions here. She's the theater teacher and advisor, and she's terrific."   She paused as Bobby settled into the chair.   Then she asked, "Have any questions? About your schedule or anything else?”   "I think I’m all set,” Bobby said.   Suddenly, a girl burst into the office and, ignoring Bobby, exclaimed, "Mrs. Miller, did you hear what that idiot Donovan did? I love him like a brother, but he's an idiot. What are we doing to do?"   She was tall and skinny, more pretty and intriguing than beautiful, had blonde, wavy hair hanging to her shoulder, a nose with character, and strikingly bright white teeth.   Mrs. Miller held up a hand.   "Whoa, Cassie," she said. "Bobby, this is Cassie Maxwell, who often can be heard before seen. Cassie, number one, this is Bobby Runyon and we're getting him enrolled here. And number two, I don't have any idea what you're talking about."   Momentarily calmer, Cassie reached out a hand to Bobby. As they briefly shook she said, "Hi, Bobby."   "Hi, Cassie."   Still looking at him, but addressing Mrs. Miller, Cassie added, "And yes, I know Bobby is the quarterback who is going to lead the mighty, mighty Flyers to state championships. We can crown him homecoming king now, and every sophomore girl in school – except maybe me – wants to know if he has a girlfriend back home."   "Cassie!" Mrs. Miller exclaimed.    Bobby still hadn't gotten a word in . Cassie gave a little wave of her hand. "Oh, sorry, Bobby, I didn't mean anything by it." She turned back to Mrs. Miller and said in a rush, "That idiot Donovan broke his ankle at the skate park last night! All the others are terrific guys, they're wonderful to be around and they make me laugh, but none of 'em can sing without making dogs howl and we already were hiding that. It's only a month to opening night , and now we have to find someone to play Sky and sing with me and ..."   Mrs. Miller broke in and said, for Bobby's benefit, "'Guys and Dolls' is the spring musical. Cassie plays Sarah Brown. Donovan is Sky Masterson, the male lead."   Cassie went on, "He was Sky Masterson. Doctors say no way can he do this.”   "What's Mrs. LoSasso say?"   "She's not here yet. Donovan and I were going to go through a couple of scenes this morning, but he just now got up enough nerve to tell me what happened." Cassie turned to Bobby and said, "Hey, you're hunky enough to play Sky, football isn't until the fall ... you ever acted?"   Bobby, catching the "hunky" part and being a little embarrassed, couldn't help but chuckle.   "Does playing a pilgrim in the third grade count?” Bobby asked.   “Sure … if you were any good."   “I don't remember."   “Do you sing?”   “In the shower. Only when nobody can hear. But I stink."   "Damn."   "Cassie, enough," Mrs. Miller repeated, but not angrily. "Mrs. LoSasso will get this figured out." She stood. "Now," she said, "I'm going to show Bobby his locker and get him to his first class."   Cassie started out of the office, but stopped and turned back to Bobby. “So, what’s the other answer?”   “What other answer?”   “Girlfriend back in Washington?”   “Yeah … kinda.”   “I’ll take that as a yes. I’ve done my duty by asking on behalf of the entire female sophomore class. Many hearts will be broken.”   She scurried out the door.   Standing up, Mrs. Miller smiled. “Bobby, when you’re a sophomore in high school, boyfriend and girlfriend is never more than ‘kinda.’ Or at least is shouldn’t be.” She caught herself, a bit embarrassed. Then she added, “That’s the end of the old woman advice for the day. Okay, onward … Any questions about your schedule?”   "No, don't think so."   He had memorized at least the names of the classes. He needed to work on the names of the teachers and the classroom numbers.   1 -- Early American History   Mr. Hendricks                       196 2 -- Math Analysis                    Mrs. Taylor                            172  3 -- Business Principles              Mr. Anderson                        210 4 -- American Literature          Mrs. Seward                            222 "GROUP A" LUNCH PERIOD 5 -- Physics                                 Mr. Shinbein                            160 6 -- Basic Mechanics                  Mr. Carlyle                             102 7 -- Beginning Spanish              Ms. Villanueva                         264   Mrs. Miller gestured for Bobby to follow her.   From the lobby, they went down a hallway leading away from the gym. “The best way to get around is to think of everything as being at the gym end of the building…” – she hooked her thumb over he shoulder to point backwards – “…or the auditorium end. Your first class is at the auditorium end.” As they walked, Bobby sensed glances and noticed stares. To a kid wearing a fedora-type hat, Mrs. Miller said: “Lose the hat, Chad!”   The kid yanked it off.   In Pullman, Bobby wore a baseball hat to school roughly half the days before taking it off at his locker. Mrs. Miller noticed his questioning look. “No hats at all inside,” she explained.   To Bobby, it seemed as if about half the kids approaching them weren’t even looking. They were peering down at the cell phones in their hands and either reading or texting. Mrs. Miller chided kids to look where they were going, and when they looked up and noticed Bobby with her, he could tell a few immediately realized he was The New Kid.   As they walked, Mrs. Miller asked with her voice raised, “Tell me, Bobby, did kids at your old school text each other when they were 10 feet away from each other?”   Bobby admitted they did. “Sometimes I wonder if you kids are going to forget how to talk – and I mean really talk – to each other,” Mrs. Miller said.   A huge guy wearing a parka was walking toward them. Smiling at Bobby, he held up a hand for a fist bump. “Just so you know the most important thing,” he said.   “What’s that?” Bobby asked as he did the bump, self-consciously.    “Blocking on pass plays isn’t as fun as running over people,” the big guy said. “We gotta run the ball some.”   Kids skirted them, hustling down the hallway, and some turned back and looked at Bobby and the big guy. An excited girl took their picture with her phone.   With thumbs flying on her screen, she began sending along to others.   “I’m Bobby Runyon,” he said, feeling a bit stupid.   “I’m Chuck Griffith,” the big guy said. “And I’m the left tackle.”   “Left tackle … the quarterback’s best friend!” Mrs. Miller said. “Protects the quarterback’s blind side. Your blind side, Bobby.”   Bobby looked at her, stunned, and asked, “You’re a football fan?"   Chuck hooked a thumb at Mrs. Miller as he started walking away, backwards for a couple of steps. “She draws up plays and sends ‘em to Coach Alexander,” he said.   “I only did that once,” she protested to Bobby. “But the play worked! Eleven yards, first down.”   As Bobby and Mrs. Miller continued down the hall, he got up the nerve. “My parents said you had no idea he was the Lumberjacks' new linebackers coach and didn’t know anything about football.”     Mrs. Miller didn’t respond.    She stopped at his locker. She challenged him to open it with the combination. It took him only three tries. He decided not to leave anything in the locker for the moment, slammed it shut and resumed following Mrs. Miller.   “I knew,” she said as they walked.    “What?”     “My husband showed me YouTube clips, right after the Lumberjacks hired your dad and the stories here mentioned you. So I knew your dad was a Lumberjacks coach and they were looking for a school for an All-State quarterback. I was surprised when they said you’d be coming here sooner than the fall.”   “Second team,” Bobby corrected. Again.   “What?”   “I was second team All-State.”   “And they said you were a humble kid, too.” She laughed. “It might be a good thing Coach Alexander wasn’t around that day. And he wanted to wait for you in the office today. I told him I wasn’t sure when you were coming in. Just remember his heart’s in the right place.”   The door to Room 196 was open. According to Bobby’s schedule, this was Early American History with Mr. Hendricks. An older man with a moustache, Hendricks was facing the few students already there and leaning back against the ridge of the desk behind him. As they entered, he jumped up and smiled, pumping Bobby’s hand as Mrs. Miller introduced them. Chapter 2   How Bobby came to be at Watkins Ridge High had a lot to do with football – but not Bobby’s football.    His father, Dan Runyon, played at Washington State and then had a short National Football League career as a linebacker with the Minnesota Vikings. After he retired from the NFL, Dan and Bonnie Runyon returned to Eastern Washington, to Pullman, where Dan bought a successful health club and enjoyed running it for a couple of years. Finding he missed football, though, Dan joined the coaching staff at Washington State.        Along the way, Bobby was joined by two younger sisters, Susan and Nancy, and became the Pullman area’s star in football and baseball. Then Bobby’s life changed. One night in January, his dad suggested that father and son take a drive. Bobby looked at his mother and immediately could tell this wasn’t taking her by surprise. Whatever his dad was going to bring up, Bobby’s mom already knew.      Over milkshakes at the drive-in, Dan explained that he had heard from Steve Gillespie, an assistant coach with the Vikings when Dan had played for Minnesota. Gillespie now was the head coach of the NFL’s Franklin City Lumberjacks, and he offered Dan a chance to return to pro football as an assistant coach.   “I said I wanted to stay here,” Dan told Bobby, “but he said that college coaching staffs are one bad year away from being fired, too, and sometimes in this game you don’t pick your jobs, they pick you. I’ve got until Tuesday to make up my mind. Your mom’s talking to Susan and Nancy now. They’re young enough that it won’t be a big change for them. I know it will be for you.” He explained that if he took the job, he’d move to Franklin City right away, and the family probably would follow him after the end of the school year. If that became the plan, Bobby would start at his new school as a junior in the fall .   Through noisy final slurps of his milkshake through the straw, Bobby tried to take it all in. He would go from small-town Pullman to a city he had seen many times on television because of its NFL, National Basketball Association, National Hockey League and Major League Baseball games. That intrigued him. Yet he knew how hard it would be to leave behind all his friends.   Bobby told his father he would support any decision he made.     A few days later, the Franklin City Lumberjacks announced that Dan Runyon was their new linebackers coach.         The calls, text messages, and emails flooded in. Bobby didn’t answer or respond, except to those from his closest friends. He and his buddies Emilio and Steve went out for burgers and talked it over that night.     The next morning, many sent him links to the Sunday Franklin City News’ online story about his dad’s hiring. One paragraph read: “Runyon’s son, Bobby, was the Seattle Times’ second-team All-State quarterback for the Pullman Central High Bulldogs as only a sophomore. GridRecruitingWatch.com projected him as the 43rd-ranking college football recruit in the entire country in two years – "as long as he grows a couple of inches. It is assumed he will finish out the school year in Washington and then join his father in Franklin City, in time to begin serious preparation for his junior football season here.”     The bombardment continued. His number and email had been posted in multiple places on the Web. The messages begged: Go to school here! … Whatever you do, don’t go THERE ... We have the best-looking girls, so come here. Bobby had stopped doing all social media stuff because of all the hassles that went with it, so it could have been even worse.   His father heard from many Franklin City-area high school coaches. Dan told Bobby that he had ordered all coaches not to contact Bobby directly. “If you hear from any coach, you tell me right away,” he said.     “Okay?"   Within an hour, his dad had Bobby’s cell number changed, and told Bobby to give the new number to only his closest friends. “If this stuff starts again,” his father said, “you’ll be without a phone until everything’s settled. For your own good.”       His parents gave Bobby printed-out information about a few  high schools, both public and private, in the suburbs on the south side of the Franklin City metropolitan area. Bobby also explored online. Nothing he looked at truly answered his questions about what it would be like, how he would feel to be among new classmates, in a new school. Hesitantly, he also brought up the alternative plan his buddies were suggesting. He asked his parents if he had the option of staying behind in Pullman, living with Emilio’s family for the next two school years, and finishing high school there.   “Bobby,” his dad said, “if you were that certain you needed to stay here, you should have said that … and I probably wouldn’t have taken the job. And if you were a junior and it would be only one year, we could at least have a conversation about the alternatives. But this is a family.”   “How much of this is Gina?” his mom asked.   “Some,” Bobby said.    Neither Bobby nor Gina denied being “boyfriend” and “girlfriend,” and that’s how they were labeled in the halls of Pullman Central High. But mostly, it involved the kind of friendship that started when they sat across the aisle on the school bus in grade school and found they always had things to talk about.      It was kinda.   His parents traveled to Franklin City. Bonnie’s sister, Aunt Cathy, stayed with the kids. Two nights later, back in Pullman, Dan and Bonnie told the kids they had agreed to buy a house under construction  in a new development, and Dan told Bobby he was going to be a Watkins Ridge Flyer, starting in the fall. He laughed and told Bobby that one of the private high schools had offered Bobby free tuition and more money than Dan had made in his NFL rookie season. Bobby decided that his father was joking ... mostly.    “Watkins Ridge was the best fit,” Dan said. “We talked with a nice counselor – Mrs. Miller. We got everything going for you to be there in the fall.”   “Did you meet the coaches?” Bobby asked.     “Football coach’s name is Gord Alexander,” Dan said. “He’s the athletic director, too, and he was at a conference. Mike Shinbein’s the baseball coach, and he was teaching a class. Physics, of all things. Of course, you won’t be playing for him for another year, though.”     “Your dad didn’t tell Mrs. Miller what he does for a living,” Bonnie said, smiling. “He just said we were moving in from Washington and had a son who was a sophomore and might play football and baseball, but that school came first.”   Yeah, that sounds like Dad, Bobby thought.     “But the football coach got wind of it real fast somehow,” Dan said. “He called me at the Lumberjacks offices. He wanted to bring me over a playbook to bring back to you so you could start studying and he wanted your cell number. I asked him to leave you alone for now.”   “I think you said it a little stronger than that,” Bobby’s mom said, smiling.   “You didn’t hear from him, right?” Bobby’s dad asked.   “No,” Bobby said. And he hadn’t.    Bobby’s father would live in a hotel for the time being, getting involved in the Lumberjacks’ off-season mini-camps and training and all the other work that goes with NFL coaching. The rest of the family would follow at the end of the school year and move into the new house, scheduled to be finished about June 1.     Bobby again asked if he could stay behind for his junior and senior years.   “No,” his dad said firmly. “We’ve been through that.”   “Okay,” Bobby said, “then can I go now?”   “What?” his surprised mother asked.   “Then I want to go now,” Bobby said emphatically. “I don’t want to have this hanging over me the rest of the year. That’d make it even harder, Dad. If I’m going to be there in the fall, I might as well go now and play baseball, and meet people – like some of the guys I’ll be playing football with.”     “Well,” Dan said slowly, “we can put down the address of the house we’re buying, legitimately. You could live with me in the hotel until we move into the house. The Lumberjacks will pay for the hotel until June.”   “Okay,” Bobby said.   His dad asked, “What’s Gina think of this?”   Bobby tried to sound casual. “She said whether it was now or this summer, or whenever, friendship lasts. No matter what.” He shrugged. “She said we’ll just see.”   Dan chuckled. “Wise girl.”       *   *   *   A week later, Bobby took the flights to Franklin City. His dad met him at baggage claim. As they passed through the downtown area, they drove past the Lumberjacks’ Ajax Insurance Stadium, the baseball Cyclones’ Pyle Tires Stadium, and the NBA Thunderbolts’ and NHL Badgers’ Hemingway Arena. At mid-afternoon, the traffic was heavy. As they neared their exit, Bobby’s father signaled, carefully looked, and started to slide over in front of a Cadillac. The driver sped up, cut them off, and made a not-so-friendly gesture.   “We’re not in Pullman any more,” Bobby said.   After they dropped off his bags at the Continental Hotel room – actually a mini-suite with a living room, a kitchenette and a bedroom -- and ate dinner in the coffee shop, Dan showed him the route to Watkins Ridge High, and Bobby got his first look at his new school in the dark.  From there, Dan took him by their house, taking shape about a mile from the school. Dan emphasized how much trust his parents were placing in Bobby by allowing him to drive the family car to school. He wouldn’t be able to have any passengers under age 20 for six months – not until July. A shuttle service had transported the family’s Ford to Franklin City, and Bobby’s father was using a car a dealer provided under a sponsorship deal with the Lumberjacks.      The next morning, it all ran through his mind again, like a fast-forwarding video, as he waited for the start of his first class as a Watkins Ridge Flyer. Chapter 3   After the bell sounded, Mr. Hendricks held up his hands for quiet.    “Everyone, meet Bobby Runyon, who’s new here.”    Bobby raised his hand in acknowledgment as Mr. Hendricks continued.    “Now, by additional way of introduction…George, hit the lights, please.”   In the darkened room, Hendricks walked to the laptop computer on his desk, which was synchronized with the large screen at the front of the room. His screen saver disappeared and Bobby was startled to see cued-up YouTube clip. Bobby recognized which one, too. It was from a Spokane television station.   The 6News logo was in the right-hand corner of the screen. The graphic across the bottom revealed that the pert brunette at the desk in the studio was: “JEANETTE YAMAKURA, 6News Prep Rally.”   Hendricks clicked “play.”   With several sheets of paper in her hands, the sportscaster smiled at the camera. “First we go to Spokane’s Joe Albi Stadium for the performance of the night. There, sophomore sensation quarterback Bobby Runyon of the Pullman Central Bulldogs torched the Spokane Southeastern Spartans with a stunning 352-yard, five-touchdown aerial barrage.”   In the green and white of Pullman Central, Bobby, number 19, took the snap. He rolled right, slowed, ducked under one attempt at a high tackle from a rushing linebacker, took two more steps, and threw the ball deep down the sideline.     “Here,” Yakamura said in voice-over narration, “Runyon tosses a 47-yard strike to his favorite receiver, Steve Skladany, for a score in the first quarter.”    Bobby watched closely, in part because he would have been embarrassed to catch anyone else’s eyes. Steve caught the ball in stride and ran in for the easy touchdown.   Another play began. Going the other direction, Bobby dropped straight back, looked to his right, then to his left and threw a deep slant to the receiver breaking from left to right across the field.   Describing that play, Yakamura said: “Here, Runyon rifles the pass to Elon Elliott on the deep slant and Elliott romps 61 yards to score. That’s the way it went all night as the Bulldogs from Pullman gave Spokane Southeastern, the big city boys, a 40-14 whipping.”   Bobby was at midfield after the game, helmet off and wearing a stocking cap. His name was at the bottom of the screen, with teammates hollering and fans milling behind him. “With the receivers we have and the time I had to throw, my job was pretty easy tonight,” he said.         Back in the studio, Jeanette Yakamura shuffled her papers, smiled at the anchorman and said, “Bobby’s father is on the coaching staff at Washington State, and everyone at Pullman Central High, of course, is hoping his father stays put – at least until Bobby has his high school diploma.”     The video clip ended.    “Lights, George,” Hendricks prompted. After they were back on, the teacher said, “Well, Bobby didn’t stay in Pullman, and it’s our job to make him feel at home here. Welcome, Bobby.”     He clapped, and the students – Bobby’s new classmates – joined in. Bobby gave a light wave. Then Hendricks had each kid in the class give their names.     For the next 50 minutes, Hendricks lectured and allotted reading time, and then when the final bell rang, he said as Bobby passed, “I hope you don’t mind the video. Thought it would be a way to break the ice.”   “It’s okay,” Bobby said.           *   *   * He spotted her in his fourth class, American Literature.   The teacher, the chunky and gray-haired Mrs. Seward, handed him a paperback copy of The Grapes of Wrath, by John Steinbeck, and directed him to a desk in the front corner.    The gymnast -- Anna? Yeah, that's it...Anna -- was wearing a warm-up suit as she rushed in. She caught him looking.    When the period ended, she came up the aisle. “Hi, Bobby, I’m Anna Campos,” she said, barely slowing. “Welcome.”   Bobby scrambled to his feet, a little too eagerly. “Hi,” he said.  “And thanks.”   She already was halfway to the door.   As he gathered up his books, a kid who had been sitting two rows behind him stopped. “She was pretty nice, considering that she used to be the best-known athlete in school. She’s the state gymnastics champion.”   “So I’ve been told,” Bobby said, smiling. “And I’ve been told she works out like 10 hours a day.”   “Pretty close,” the kid said. “She must eat sometime. But nobody’s ever seen it.”   Bobby liked this kid. He was shorter than Bobby, yet gangly, and had wispy sideburns and a loaded-down backpack that looked as if it weighed more than he did.    “You have ‘A’ or ‘B’ lunch?” the kid asked Bobby.    It took Bobby a few seconds to remember his schedule listed the “A Lunch” period. According to the “Bell Schedule” sheet he had in his backpack, the “B Lunch” group had one more class before its lunch.    In Pullman, “Lunch” was “Lunch,” all at one time.      “Going to the cafeteria?” the kid asked.   “Would that be smart?” Bobby asked.   The kid grinned. “Well, you have to go the first day at least,” he said. “Come on. And if you don’t like what you see, you can buy stuff from the school store, instead.”   He said his name was Paul Dineen and that he was a sophomore, too. As they left the room, a tall, muscular man in slacks and a sport shirt rushed down the hall, toward them. Bobby's guess was right. The man quickly introduced himself as Gord Alexander, Bobby's new football coach.    “Sorry I wasn’t at the office this morning, buddy,” he said, shaking hands. “I got bad information on that one.”   “That’s okay, Coach,” Bobby said.   “You need to go to your locker first, buddy?”   “No,” Bobby said hesitantly.   “Good,” Alexander said. “We can get right to it. ” “What?”   “Down at my office, buddy. I’ll get you the playbook, DVDs, offensive breakdowns and the games from last year. And I’ve got sandwiches. I’ve always got sandwiches. The president of the booster club owns six sandwich shops.”     Bobby surprised himself. “Coach, Paul and I are going to the cafeteria,” he said.    The coach squinted. “Who?”    “Paul,” Bobby said, pointing at Paul, who had started down the hall.   “Paul!” Bobby called out. “Wait up.”   Paul stopped. He looked surprised.     Bobby turned to the coach. “Coach, this’ll help me meet some people.”   “Okay, buddy,” Alexander said. “How about after school?”   “I’ve got baseball practice,” Bobby said.   “With all due respect to baseball, buddy, the season doesn’t start for a couple of weeks. Buddy, I think Coach Shinbein would be fine with you getting oriented your first day and going out tomorrow.”     Bobby responded, “Coach, I really want to get started.”   “Okay,” Alexander said. He paused to ponder for a few seconds. "Then let’s do this at 7 in the morning, before school tomorrow. I’ll have donuts.”   “Okay,” Bobby said.   “Are you always this stubborn?” the coach asked.    “About some things,” Bobby said, shrugging.   Alexander shook Bobby’s hand again. “As long as they’re the right things, I’m fine with that,” he said.   Leaving the coach, Bobby caught up with Paul, who laughed darkly.   “Well,” Paul said as they walked, “you must be as good as they say you are. Mr. Alexander’s a great coach … but he holds grudges unless you’re really good.”   “How do you know?”   “I play for the soccer team,” he said.    That surprised Bobby. He hadn't taken Paul for an athlete.   “I kicked for the football team last season, too,” Paul continued. “We fouled up the timing on one field goal in the third or fourth game, my kick got blocked, and he decided that I needed to skip soccer practice completely two days a week to be at football. I said no and now I’m just ‘that wimpy soccer player’ to him.”   In the cafeteria, Bobby picked out lasagna that actually looked pretty good. They joined a small group wedged in at a table in the middle of the room. The kids looked to be a cross-section to Bobby – a few girls, a handful of guys who looked as if they could have been football or soccer players, plus others who looked as if they couldn’t tell you what team just won the Super Bowl.   Paul announced, “This is Bobby. I’d introduce you all, but I think he’s probably getting sick of that stuff today and no way can he remember everyone’s names, anyway.”   That was exactly what Bobby had been thinking.   He heard a girls' voice behind him. "Hey, superstar." He turned, and saw Cassie Maxwell and a big girl – as tall as Cassie, big and stocky, but not fat – carrying trays. They passed him and sat down, joining the group. Cassie introduced the other girl as Alexandra. "She's playing Adelaide in 'Guys and Dolls' and while she does believe you have a girlfriend back home and, as a result, she is crushed …”   “Crushed,” broke in Alexandra, patting herself on the heart.   Cassie continued, "… she also doesn’t believe you can’t sing.”     "I sure don't," Alexandra said. "I think you're just a coward."   The way she said it, good-naturedly, took away any sting.   "Oh, he can't be a coward," Cassie told Alexandra. "How can he be a coward if all the cheerleaders will be rushing to hug him after every game because he has shone on the football field in front of thousands?"   "Good point," Alexandra said. "But I still don't believe he can't sing."   "Believe me," Bobby said, smiling. "Not a note."   Suddenly, Chuck Griffith, the big tackle, approached with a jammed tray. Bobby wondered what he was going to think of his choice of lunch companions. He was surprised when Chuck wedged between two guys and sat down.   “I see you found the NBA,” he told Bobby.   “NBA?” Bobby asked, wondering what this had to do with basketball.   “Non-Buddy Athletes … and their friends,” Chuck said, using his fingers to put quote marks about the “and their friends.” He continued, “We’re not Coach Alexander’s buddies.”   “I don’t get you,” Bobby said.   Paul interjected, “Some people think we hate him. That’s not it.”   In mid-bite, Chuck said, “He is a good coach.” He turned to Bobby. “He is a good guy. But he thinks football all the time and thinks we should, too. You met him yet?” “Just for a minute,” Bobby said.    “How many times did he call you, ‘Buddy?’” Chuck asked.   Bobby laughed. “A bunch.”   “That means he thinks you’re a star,” Paul said. “Everybody he likes is a ‘buddy,’ but he really lays it on thick to the stars.”     “In the right sports, at least,” Chuck interjected. He again looked at Bobby. “Paul’s one of our best soccer players, but his ‘buddiness’ died when he quit football. Right?”   Paul confirmed that with a shrug.   “So what sports we have covered here?” Bobby asked.   “A bunch,” Paul said. He pointed as he went around the group, starting with himself. “Soccer,” he said. “Baseball. Football. Track. Golf. Basketball. Theater …" He laughed and added, "Here, that's a sport, believe me.”   In unison, Cassie and Alexandra gave little waves. Paul continued, “Softball. Tennis. And, finally, last but not least … debate.”     “What year is everybody?” Bobby asked nobody in particular.     Munching, Chuck, the big lineman, looked over the group. “Mostly juniors … like me.   “And me,” said Alexandra.   “And me,” said the guy who had been pointed out as a baseball player. He was a 6-footer whom Bobby guessed spent a lot of time in the weight room and was a third baseman.    “Some sophomores … like you,” added Chuck.   “And me,” Paul said.   “And me,” chimed in Cassie.   Bobby turned to the baseball player. “How’s the baseball team shaping up?”   The guy laughed. “I didn’t even know you played baseball until a little bit ago,” he told Bobby. “All they talked about was football. I play that, too. But then we heard you were a catcher, too.”   “I like baseball more than football,” Bobby said.   The guy genuinely was shocked.   “Really?”    “Really,” Bobby declared.     “Well, we’ve had only one week of practice, and we got outside only two days,” the guy said. “But I think we’re in a lot better shape now that we have a good catcher.”   “You sure I can beat out the catcher you’ve got now?” Bobby asked, smiling.   “Oh, I know you can,” the guy said.    “Who is it?”   “Me.”   “Sorry,” Bobby said sheepishly.   “Don’t be. As a catcher, I’m a decent third baseman … but we didn’t have anybody else, except a little freshman.”   “Are we going to be any good?”   He rolled his hand in the universal “so-so” sign. Then he reached it out. “I’m Reid Beseda,” he said. “Okay, we know you’ve met Coach Alexander. How about Coach Shinbein?" ” “I’ve got him next period for Physics,” Bobby said.   “Me, too,” chimed in Cassie.     Bobby wasn't sure how he felt about that.