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That was way over in Chica-saw.”
    “I made my mom take me,” Renny said. “I'm not good at basketball, but I love to watch it. And you were the best one there.”
    “I don't know about that… .”
    “That flying spin move? How do you do that?”
    “I do it in soccer, too,” Bryce admitted with a sly smile. Suddenly the kid didn't seem so bad to him anymore. He was actually okay. And hey — it wasn't his fault he was a good player!
    “No way!” Renny cried. “Airborne, or on the ground?”
    “Sort of both,” Bryce said, trying to explain how he did his patented move. He got up and demonstrated. “You wait for the defender to commit, see. Then, when he does, you just use his momentum and spin off him; depending on which way he goes. You cradle the ball between your legs, then let it go before you hit ground.”
    “Awesome.” Renny shook his head in deep admiration. “I could never do that. Nobody but you could do it.”
    “Aw…”
    “You know, ever since I moved here, I've wanted to play soccer like you.”
    “Really?” Bryce thought back to October. “Which team were you on in the fall?”
    “I wasn't. I got here after the season started, and all the teams were set. I just came down every week and watched. Mostly your games, actually. I'd stand there, imagining myself as center striker….” Renny laughed, remembering. “Funny, huh?”
    “So that's why nobody knew about you,” Bryce said. “Well, you've got nothing to be ashamed of. You play a good little game.”
    Renny beamed. “You know that day in Conroy's, when you came up to me and encouraged me?” he asked. “You were really nice about it. I mean, we beat you, but you didn't hold it against me or any-thing. I thought that was really cool.”
    Looking into Renny's open, honest face, Bryce felt a little twinge of guilt. He remembered that day in Conroy's, all right, when he had approached Renny to see what he was all about — net to be “really nice.” Thinking about that day reminded him of his conversation with Turk Walters and the malicious grin on Turk's face. The twinge of guilt turned into a much bigger pang.
    “Hey, kid — I mean Renny,” Bryce said suddenly.
    “Yeah?” Renny asked. He must have sensed the importance of what Bryce was about to say, because he looked at him very seriously.
    “I, uh, you know the game tomorrow?” Bryce shifted uncomfortably on the log. “Well, I'heard a, um, a rumor —”
    Renny held up his hand. “I bet I heard the same rumor — that Coach Harrelson is going to be there to check out the players, right?” He grinned at Bryce. “You know, I overheard him talking about you last week. He couldn't believe how good you were. You're a shoo-in for the starting spot on junior varsity next year.”
    Bryce stared at Renny. Coach Harrelson had said something that made Renny think he wanted him, Bryce, to be his center striker! But the coach had also said good — no, make that great — things about Renny's playing. Had Coach Harrelson made up his mind yet? He had at least one more game to watch Renny. But if the Blue Hornets beat the Orange Crush tomorrow, then it would be Bryce's Yellow Jackets against Renny's Blue Hornets in the best-of-three championship series. Coach Harrelson would see Renny play not once, but at least three more times.
    Until recently, Bryce wouldn't have worried about his competition. But now, he wasn't so sure he'd come out on top when compared to Renny. The thought burned him.
    “So was I right, was that the rumor you heard?” Renny asked. “Or was there something else you wanted to tell me?”
    Bryce knew he should warn Renny about Turk. He knew that Renny might even get hurt if he didn't. But the thought of having to face Renny in the championships made him choke on the warning. He couldn't get the words out — he just couldn't.
    Renny was still looking at him, waiting.
    Bryce forced himself to say something. “Yeah, that was the rumor, all right. But, um, do