Button Down by Anne Ylvisaker Page B

winnings shelf. “And where did everything else go?”
    Ned stared. He set down the box and walked closer.
Oz
was there but the pocketknife was gone. The whistle, “The Memphis Blues.” All of Granddaddy’s treasures were gone, and in their place lay one brand-new genuine football. It was fat with air. The brown leather shone, and the laces were taut. Ned reached out, laid both his hands on it. It felt round and impossibly real.
    “There’s a note,” said Tugs. She handed it to him.
    For Ned
.
    This was supposed to be a surprise for you on the day of your battle against Burton. Ike was going to bring it to the game. He gave me all his winnings and asked me to get you a football. “That boy’s going places, if he’ll only believe it,” he said, “and I want to give him a push.” So, then. Look lively. Go make him proud
.
    Sincerely
,
    Mr. Milo S. Jackson
    Ned read the note through twice and handed it back to Tugs. He picked up the ball. He cradled it in one arm, then fit his fingers between the laces and held it back by his ear. He pulled it into his chest.
    “I have to go,” he said. “We have to go. Come on.”
    Tugs grabbed
Oz
and they ran out, letting the screen door slam behind them.

The game was under way when they got there. Mel was sitting on the sidelines keeping score. He jumped up when he saw Ned and Tugs.
    “You came! G.O. is playing for our side, too, but we’re getting killed anyhow.”
    “What’s the score?” Ned asked.
    “I kind of lost track after five or six of their touchdowns. We haven’t scored yet.”
    “Button!” Franklin shouted. He pulled himself up from under a pile of Burton’s fellows and ran over to Ned.
    “No substitutions!” Burton yelled.
    “Oops!” said Franklin. He fell dramatically to the ground and pulled himself to the sideline. “I’m hurt! Can you go in for me, Ned?”
    Ned handed his football to Tugs and ran onto the field.
    “Hey, Ned, isn’t that my suit?” said Burton.
    “Was,” said Ned. He threw off the jacket and ran over to his teammates, who were picking themselves up.
    They stood around awkwardly, looking at Ned like he was a china plate about to be dropped.
    Ned felt suddenly uncertain, too. “Just a minute,” he said. He ran back to Tugs and got his ball. “Huddle up!” he called as he ran back onto the field.
    Ralph whistled. “Where did you get that?”
    “Granddaddy,” said Ned. “It’s perfect for the Ike. Let’s try it out.”
    “The
Ike
? You sissies should just give up now,” said Burton. “You can’t win.”
    Ned ignored him, handed the ball to Ralph, and lined up behind his fellows. “Down,” he said. “Set. Hut! Hut! Hut!”
    Ralph tossed the ball through his legs to Ned and ran to his side.
    Burton was coming straight at Ned.
    Ned faked a handoff to Ralph and dodged Burton. He cut behind Mel, but Burton’s boys were everywhere he turned.
    Ned clutched the ball and ran toward the side of the field. He looked back. Burton was chasing him. He was nearly on him.
    “I’m open! I’m open!” Ralph shouted from the end zone.
    Ned drew back his arm. He was in the apple tree, tossing an apple into Granddaddy’s door. The door was opening and Granddaddy was coming out, laughing. Ned let go and the ball soared through the air. It soared over Mel and Clyde and Johnny. It soared right into the hands of Ralph Stump.
    And then Ned was down, face in the dirt, air thumped from his lungs.
    “Hand?” said a voice above him. Ned rolled over and allowed himself to be hauled up by Ralph Stump.
    “What happened?” said Ned. He looked at his empty hands. He could see the imprint of the laces.
    “Touchdown!” yelled Ralph. He handed Ned his football. The boys were all over him then. His own team tackled him, then dragged him up again and slapped his back. Ralph socked him in the arm, then socked him again. “Touchdown!” he said. “We scored a touchdown!”
    “Game’s over!” Mel called.
    He and Tugs and Franklin ran