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dash. Alex couldn’t see the point of the exercise—except maybe for those who would be returning kickoffs. For everyone else it was just an excuse to make them go all out in the torturous heat one more time.
    “Anyone slows up or gives up will run some steps,” Coach Gordon said. “You’ve all got the weekend off, so I expect you to give me everything you’ve got left.” He almost seemed to smile. “First guy across the line is excused from next week’s run.”
    Apparently, this was some kind of weekly ritual.
    Alex found himself—coincidence?—between Matt Gordon and Jake Bilney. Glancing down the line, he could see that most guys had lined up by position. That was part of the ritual too, he guessed.
    “Don’t beat us too bad,” Gordon said softly as they started to lean into a starting position.
    “What makes you think I’m going to beat you?” Alex asked, although he expected to dust both of them.
    “Gut feeling,” Gordon said just as his father said, “Take your mark.”
    The whistle blew and they were off. Alex wasn’t going to let up no matter how nice a guy Gordon seemed to be. As he reached midfield, he could feel himself tiring. He could also see out of the corner of his eye that he was near the lead, although someone—he was guessing it was Jonas—was several yards in front of everyone else.
    By the time he reached the 10-yard line he was gasping and he could almost feel the pack closing in on him from behind. He put everything he had left into the last ten yards and crossed the goal line somewhere near the front. He was a little surprised when both Gordon and Bilney crossed not so very far behind him.
    No one spoke for a few seconds because everyone was leaning over, trying to get their breath back. Alex noticed that one of the linemen was on the ground, holding his leg. One of the trainers was jogging over to him.
    “Cramp, Lucas?” Coach Gordon said.
    “Think so, Coach,” Lucas answered in a pained voice as the trainer reached him and started to work on his right leg.
    Alex noticed Jonas, a few yards away from him, standing up straight, looking like he could run another hundred without breathing hard.
    “Ellington, you’re excused from the hundred next week,” Coach Gordon said.
    He turned to Coach Raye, who coached the linebackers.
    “Jeb, who’d you have in the top five?”
    Coach Raye had a clipboard in his hands and he glanced down at it. “Ellington, Washburn, Josephs, Myers, and Eisenberg.”
    Alex had finished fourth. Washburn was, like Jonas, a wide receiver, and Josephs was the starting tailback. He didn’t know Eisenberg, which made him think he probably played defense—a cornerback, he guessed.
    “Okay,” Coach Gordon said. “Everyone take a knee right here.
    “School starts Monday. As you older guys know, we want you taped and on the practice field by three-thirty. That gives you forty-five minutes from your last class, since you are all excused from last-period study hall or club meetings
—as long as you keep your grades up
—to get over here and get ready. If the trainers get behind taping and someone is late as a result, they’ll let us know, but it usually isn’t a problem. Seniors get taped first, then juniors, and so on.
    “Monday and Tuesday you’ll meet with your position coaches before we practice so we can give you playbooks and teach you the basic offense and defense. Older guys, there’s a few wrinkles the staff worked on over the summer, so don’t think you know it all.
    “On Wednesday and Thursday we’ll be in pads. We need to get the feel of being hit again, so be ready. On Friday we’ll have a scrimmage under game conditions. The following week we get into our regular game-week routines, and two weeks from today we play our first game.
    “Everyone got it?”
    They all answered, “Yes sir.”
    “You gonna be ready?”
    “Yes sir!”
    “Any questions?”
    None.
    “Okay, then, let’s get in. Captains …”
    Matt Gordon and