Tackle Without a Team by Matt Christopher

broke through the line and tackled Rick for a two-yard loss.
    “Hi, ol’ buddy,” Scott said, grinning. “Stuck any grass into somebody’s duffel bag lately?”
    Rick stared at him. “What’re you talking about? You nuts?”
    “You only wear your sunglasses and your uncle’s pith helmet when you’re a spectator at football games?”
    “Are you crazy? You’ve lost your buttons, you know that?”
    “I don’t think so,” Scott said, his smile faded.
    “Huddle!” Rick shouted to his men.
    Scott turned his back to him, feeling better now that he had broken the ice. But Rick was a tough nut to crack. What else
     could I say that would break him? he wondered. How could I get Rick to confess that he had framed me? That was the big job
     now.
    In four plays the Greyhawks got the ball to the Cougars’ four yard line, and each time Scott had the opportunity to be face-to-face
     with Rick, he repeated his innuendos but with variations: “Come on, Rick. You know what I’m talkingabout. You know who put those joints in my duffel bag. And you know —”
    “I
don’t
know!” Rick shouted, staring at him hotly. “Now stop saying that! Is that why we’re playing this game? So that you can get
     at me?”
    Scott matched his stare. “I could’ve phoned. But I figured you would hang up on me. This is the best and easiest way.”
    “The best and easiest way, is it? I don’t believe you, you know that?” Rick said, boiling mad. “No matter what I say —”
    “That’s right,” Scott cut in. “No matter what you say, because I know you’re the one.”
    Rick’s fists were clenched. His eyes were like steel.
    “Go ahead, hit me,” Scott said. “That would really prove it, wouldn’t it?”
    The Cougars’ defense held like a brick wall in every way it could, short of causing heavy penalties. As usual, the guys played
     rough. Seeing the two teams together confirmed Scott’s belief that, despite what had happened, he was still a Greyhawk at
     heart. Sure, a few of his oldteammates got rough at times, too, but they always played fair and for fun.
    The whistle shrilled with the ball on the one yard line.
    “First down!” the ref shouted. “Cougars’ ball!”
    The Cougars tried an end-around run that went for eleven yards. On another try Don Albright carried again but fumbled. Kear
     Nguyen scooped it up and sprinted into the end zone for a touchdown.
    For a moment Scott caught Kear’s eye, flashed a hint of a smile, and pumped his fist. No matter what he thinks of me, I’m
     still his friend, Scott thought. I’m glad he made the touchdown.
    Monk tried the point-after kick and put it straight between the uprights. Greyhawks 7, Cougars 0.
    Before the half was over, the Greyhawks scored again on a pass from Rick to tight end Karl Draper. But this time Monk’s kick
     missed the uprights by three feet. Greyhawks 13, Cougars 0.
    It seemed, Scott thought, that Coach Zacks’shope of beating the pants off the Greyhawks wasn’t going to come true today. There was still plenty of time, though, for the
     Cougars to make a comeback.
    During intermission, Scott couldn’t think about anything except for his brief encounters with Rick Seaver during the first
     half. It bothered him that he still had no definite proof. What good was it to continually harass Rick if no one had witnessed
     the crimes — for crimes they were — or if Rick didn’t confess to them? No good at all.
    The second half started off with a bang. Barney Stone kicked off for the Cougars and managed to unleash one of his longest
     kicks. It sailed to the Greyhawks’ twelve yard line, where Elmo George caught it and carried it back to their nineteen before
     Scott tackled him.
    Scott wasn’t sure how to judge the expression on Elmo’s face as he put out his hand and helped Elmo to his feet. “Surprised?”
     he said. “Remember, I’m a Cougar right now.”
    Elmo grinned. “Yeah. I can see that,” he said.
    The Greyhawks tried two running