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in this room. Everyone knows the weakest gymnast is a hell of a lot stronger than your average football player.”
    What?! What is he doing to us? I’m thinking . He’s going to get us all killed.
    â€œTed.” Coach Stein holds up his hands and he’s chuckling.
    â€œYou have got to be kidding,” says Scott Miller, the Knights’ quarterback. He steps forward and just stares at all of us like we’re insane. Except for Tom Jankowski and Mike Studblatz, the other football players seem more amused by our coach than anything. I don’t think it’s funny, though. We should not be here. We should be in the gym— our gym—working on sets.
    â€œTell you what,” Coach Nelson addresses mostly Scott Miller and Coach Stein. “I’ll make a deal with you right now. One of our guys against one of your guys on one exercise in this room. If our guy demonstrates superior strength—like I know he will—we come in here whenever we want.”
    All the football players—except Kurt Brodsky, still doing his own Atlas-lifting-the-world thing—erupt with laughter. Meanwhile, Bruce and my teammates look like I feel—miserable and sensing impending humiliation.
    â€œCoach?” Bruce cautions, but Coach Nelson holds up his hand to quiet him. My teammates look beyond worried and Ronnie Gunderson just may crap his pants. Only Fisher, a natural-born con man, appears relaxed. He’s enjoying himself as much as the football players, like he senses where Coach Nelson is going with this whole thing. Wish he’d tell me.
    â€œSo whaddya say?” Coach Nelson asks.
    â€œCoach Brigs isn’t here to make any deals,” Coach Stein says.
    â€œForget that,” Scott interrupts. “This is easy.”
    â€œI thought you’d approve,” Coach Nelson says to Scott. “Okay, I’ll pick the exercise, something easily done in this weight room. After all, we don’t want to take advantage of you fellas.”
    Snickers break out among the football players.
    â€œYou get to pick the competitors,” Coach Nelson continues. “One player from your team and one from our team.”
    A new round of laughter erupts as dozens of football players’ fingers start pointing at Ronnie and me. We’re the smallest on the team and, they assume, the weakest. I’m starting to get angrier and angrier, mostly at Coach Nelson. I feel my face grow hot with embarrassment. Ronnie steps closer like he wants my company, but all I want is to get farther away from him. I hate him at the moment, hate feeling like they think we’re the same. We’re not the same. Ronnie’s a punk freshman who just started gymnastics. I’m aiming for state champion in high bar. I’m going to be a full-ride scholarship athlete one day. We’re not the same at all.
    â€œDeal,” Scott Miller says.
    â€œYou all heard him, fellas,” Coach Nelson announces like a carnival barker. “Deal. We’ve got plenty of witnesses, so neither side can go back on it.”
    â€œThis sucks,” Bruce gripes. Guess he’s not in on the plan, either.
    â€œOkay,” Coach Nelson announces with a smile. “Pick your competitors.”
    â€œThis is too easy,” Scott Miller says. “Jankowski, crush these little girls and try not to yawn while you’re doing it.”
    The weight room bursts out in full-throated laughter as ginormous Jankowski, layered with a thick slab of butterball fat, steps forward, his hands still clenching into fists. His arms, neck, legs, and butt are huge and can easily squat, bench, curl, throw, punch, kick, or slam any of us into oblivion. He’s also got a hefty gut that overhangs his sweatpants like he’s about seven months pregnant and due to deliver a baby keg.
    â€œSolid choice.” Coach Nelson smiles. “Now pick one of our guys—anyone you want.”
    Whistles, shouts, and woofs as