He kept saying “Yup.” Finally, the scale balanced. “Felton Reinstein,” Coach Johnson said. “You weigh a hundred and sixty-eight pounds.”
“Whoa,” I said, startled. “Am I fat?”
“You’re a beanpole, Reinstein,” Ken Johnson said.
“I’ve gained like forty pounds,” I said.
“Seems to me your puberty went steroidal, kid,” Coach Johnson said. Both Ken and Cody giggled when Coach said puberty. “You’ve got no fat on you. None.”
“No muscle either,” said Ken.
“Well, some muscle,” Coach Johnson said, “He’s about as fast as you, Kennedy. But we can do better.”
“Beanpole,” Ken whispered.
“Jerk,” Cody whispered, looking at Ken.
“We can do a lot better,” Coach Johnson nodded.
“I grew seven inches and gained forty-three pounds since the beginning of gym last year,” I said, thinking back to Coach Knautz measuring us right before our Ping-Pong unit started last fall.
“Reinstein, you’ve got a frame. You hit the weights, keep eating and growing, and you could be carrying two hundred easily by your senior season.”
“Is it good to be so fat?” I asked.
“That’s D-I sized,” said Cody.
“Pfff. Yeah,” said Ken Johnson.
“And with that speed?” said Coach Johnson. “You’re telling me. D-IA.”
“D-I?” I asked.
“Division I college athletics, my boy. You could get much bigger too. Two-hundred and twenty isn’t out of the question. You might get taller, of course. When do you turn sixteen?”
“End of July,” I said.
“My goodness, you’re big,” said Coach Johnson.
Ken Johnson, who was shorter than me but probably weighed over two hundred, just glowered. I didn’t smile at him. I was lost in swirling thought, guilty, crazy thought:
How did I grow so much? Am I driving Jerri crazy by eating everything? Maybe Jerri really needs my paper route money? I probably ate ten thousand pounds of food in the last year. Oh my God. We’re running out of money, and that’s why Jerri is so stressed out and has to go to a therapist and is crazy and calls me the f-bomber. I am eating Jerri and Andrew out of house and home! I ate that bagel! I ate an extra bagel! Oh, Jesus, I’m eating my family! Oh my God!
Coach Johnson talked, and Cody talked, and I spun out in my brain, and Ken Johnson shook his head, and then Cody motioned for me to follow him, which, thankfully, I did.
As we climbed the stairs to the weights, Cody said, “See, I thought you were big, Reinstein.”
“I don’t feel big, man.”
“You gotta start carrying yourself like you’re that big. Really, Reinstein. Nobody will ever mess with you again.”
“Nobody messes with me now.”
“Are you kidding me? Everybody does. I used to, and I don’t mess with anybody because I think messing with people is dumb.”
“Really? You messed with me?” Duh. I knew that. People messed with me all the time, and I hated them for it. That’s why I spent an hour drawing a picture of Ken Johnson getting shot with bottle rockets two nights before.
“Carry yourself the way you really are, though, and it won’t happen.”
“How am I really?” God, I said stupid stuff. Pee-smelling Cody could’ve made shit of me, but he didn’t.
“Here’s the truth, Reinstein. Without ever setting foot on a football field, you’re a Division I prospect. You’ve got unbelievable speed and a big frame. I’ll never have any of what you’ve got.”
“No. I’m a beanpole. You heard Ken.”
“You’re maybe a beanpole for an eighteen-year-old but not for a fifteen-year-old. You’re just plain big for a fifteen-year-old.”
“That makes sense.”
“So carry yourself like a real athlete, and everyone will treat you that way. Okay? I’ll let everybody know that you are a serious D-I prospect and then you just act that way.”
“Uh huh,” I said.
The voice in my head was still barking at me a little. It was going on about how I was eating Jerri and Andrew.
Then Cody stopped climbing and grabbed my arm, which shocked me out of my head completely.
“But you have to do something for me. You have to lift weights and practice all summer. You have to learn the playbook. If you do, we’re going to be unstoppable come fall. That’s what I want. I want to be unstoppable. We’ve got a huge line. Karpinski’s sort of an ass, but he’s an awesome receiver. I’ll get him the ball. And you? With you, Reinstein? Nobody’s gonna know what hit ’em. Jamie is going to be pissed to lose his spot, but you’re our tailback, Reinstein. No doubt. Will you work hard?”
“Yeah,” I nodded. I meant it.
“Thanks, man.”
Cody looked deep into my eyes. It was sort of weird. I got