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    Cody's Varsity Rush
    Cody's Varsity Rush
    Cody's Varsity Rush
    Ebook154 pages1 hour

    Cody's Varsity Rush

    By Todd Hafer

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    About this ebook

    When a series of injuries and suspensions threaten to shut down the varsity defense, no one's more shocked than Cody when he gets the call. With his faith taking hits from a teacher, his father preoccupied with romance, and a dangerous foe back in town, Cody wonders if staying the course has its rewards.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherZondervan
    Release dateFeb 23, 2010
    ISBN9780310861416
    Cody's Varsity Rush
    Author

    Todd Hafer

    Todd Hafer is an award-winning writer with more than 30 books to his credit. His teen/young adult novel Bad Idea was a Christy Award finalist in the youth category, and its sequel, From Bad to Worse, was named one of the top 10 books of the year by Christian Fiction Review. Battlefield of the Mind for Teens, which he co-wrote with Joyce Meyer, has been a best seller on both the Christian Retailing and CBA lists, and recently reached number one on amazon.com’s teen/spirituality best-seller list. He also collaborated with Don Miller on Jazz Notes: Improvisations on Blue Like Jazz. A parent of four teenagers and one wayward rescue dog, Todd and his wife, JoNell, live in Shawnee, Kansas.

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      Book preview

      Cody's Varsity Rush - Todd Hafer

      Chapter 1 Back in the Danger Zone

      0310707943_content_0009_002

      Cody strained against the weight on his chest. He hungered for one more bench press, but now the bar seemed rooted to his torso.

      A little help, he gasped. He wondered if his plea was loud enough for anyone in the Grant High School weight room to hear. A few seconds passed. He wondered if anyone had died this way—pinned to a weight bench and slowly crushed by 135 pounds of iron.

      He felt relief wash over him when the Evans twins, Bart and Brett, appeared on either side of the bench. They each grabbed one end of the long iron bar and lifted it from Cody’s chest, helping him extend his arms and replace it atop the posts that rose like crossbars at the head of the bench.

      Thanks for the spot, guys, Cody said. I shoulda stopped at three reps.

      No problem, Martin, Bart said. Doing reps with 135? That’s pretty good. That’s five pounds better than my max. He looked down at Cody. It looks like you’re starting to get some guns on you. Robyn Hart’s gonna be impressed.

      Squirt guns, maybe, Cody said, ignoring the dig. Some of the juniors and seniors are lifting twice what I’m doing. He sat up and looked around the room. At this early hour, 8:00 a.m., it was mostly frosh and sophomore football hopefuls trying to prepare for the upcoming season. The older players would arrive a bit later. Cody wanted to finish his workout before that happened. It was embarrassing to watch guys warm up with the kind of weight that he could lift only a few times—and then only with much grunting and ungainly effort.

      Hey, Bart said, dislodging Cody from his thoughts. Chop’s here!

      Cody turned to the entrance expecting to see Pork Chop Porter smiling, flexing his thick arms, and telling everyone, Okay, time to load up all bars and machines with the man-weights. Chop’s in the house!

      But Chop stood in the doorway somber and quiet, his eyes scanning the room. When he locked on Cody, he raised his right arm and made a curling motion with his forefinger.

      Cody frowned and followed Chop out of the weight room.

      What’s up, Chop? he asked once they were outside, squinting against the bright late-August sun. You look like your breakfast didn’t agree with you or something."

      Chop didn’t appear to have heard him. Dude, Gabe Weitz is back in town, he said grimly.

      Gabe Weitz? Cody was surprised by the shrillness of his own voice. That psycho loser? I thought he got thrown in jail up in Denver earlier in the summer. Assault charges.

      Yeah, that’s what I heard too, said a voice behind Cody.

      Cody turned 180 degrees to face Bart, who had followed him out the door.

      Pork Chop wagged his head slowly. I don’t know where he was, dawgs; I just know he’s back. I was in Dairy Delight last night—I just stopped in for a chocolate shake to go—and he walks in. He comes over to me, and I think he’s gonna take a swing at me. But he just says, ‘Hello, Porter. You doin’ okay? And how about your little friend?’

      Whoa! Bart said. What did you say to him?

      I didn’t say anything. I just stared at him. Tried to stare right through him. And I made sure I held my ground. He was right up in my face, but there was no way I was takin’ a step back. Finally, he walks away and goes up to the counter, probably to see if the Double D has a Loser Meal or something. So, I figure I can go now, right? I get to the door and I hear him say, ‘See you guys around.’ I don’t like the way he said it. It was a threat, no doubt.

      Cody groaned. Man, I thought we were done with that guy.

      Bart scrunched up his forehead. What does he have against you guys anyway? I mean, this isn’t still about your brother laying the smackdown on him last winter, is it, Chop?

      Pork Chop sighed heavily. I think it is, at least partially. He wanted revenge big-time after that. He tried to hit us with beer bottles one time. Then he went after Co and Drew Phelps during track season. Chased ’em all over town.

      Crazy, Bart said. When’s he gonna give up?

      Probably not till one of us is in the hospital, Pork Chop answered. Or the morgue.

      The words made Cody shudder. He recalled how easily Weitz had thrown him against the Grant Middle School gym door and then had tossed him, like a rag doll, in a snowbank. All for the heinous crime of letting the door close and lock behind him.

      Cody pictured how Pork Chop had come to his rescue before Weitz could pull him out of the snow and pummel him some more. Chop had held his own against the larger, older enemy.

      Then Doug Porter had appeared. One vicious uppercut to the stomach and it was over. Weitz’s ab muscles—if he had any muscles under his substantial beer gut—were probably still aching now, almost a year later.

      Look guys, Bart said, apparently uncomfortable with the uneasy silence, so what if he’s back. I mean, if he messes with either one of you, you just call Doug, right, Chop? And he comes down from Boulder and stomps a mud hole in Weitz, once and for all.

      Pork Chop chewed thoughtfully on his bottom lip. That’s not gonna happen, dawg. Doug’s a college football player now. And you know what’s been happenin’ in college ball lately. The scandals and stuff. That ‘boys will be boys’ junk—it’s so over now. Doug’s gotta keep his nose clean or he gets booted off the team. It’s as simple as that. Besides, Boulder’s a long way from Grant, and I don’t even think he’s comin’ home till Thanksgiving. Maybe during a bye week in mid-October. That’s almost two months away. Co and I could be dead meat by then.

      So what are you going to do? Bart asked, his voice becoming nasal and whiney.

      Pork Chop looked at Cody. Try to stay alive. Watch each other’s backs, right, dawg?

      Cody nodded. Just like always.

      Pork Chop forced a smile. Well that’s enough of that subject. Time to go throw some iron around. Yet one more reason to get all swole now.

      You already look pretty swole to me, Bart said, his voice full of admiration. I mean, you get bigger every time I see you. What’s your secret?

      Pork Chop eyed his teammate suspiciously, then snorted. No secret. Just hard work.

      Yeah, Cody said. "Nobody puts in the work like Chop. He’ll work all day helping his dad on the farm and then go hit the weight room."

      Bart whistled through his teeth. Well, Chop, it’s workin’—big time!

      Chop smiled broadly. What can I say? I’m a man of steel and sex appeal. But don’t worry, Co, I won’t try to steal Ms. Hart from you.

      Cody shook his head. Great. First Bart and now you bustin’ my chops about that. I can see some things aren’t gonna change from eighth grade. Can you both repeat after me: ‘Cody Martin and Robyn Hart are NOT boyfriend/girlfriend. Period.’

      Pork Chop frowned. Could you run through that one more time, dawg? I think I missed part of it.

      Yeah, me too, Bart chimed in.

      Cody tried to load his voice with as much disgust as he could muster. Whatever. Come on. Let’s go throw some weights around. The first official practice is only three days away.

      0310707943_content_0015_004

      Cody swallowed hard and whispered, Know how those sportscasters are always talking about somebody being ‘a man among boys?’ I feel like one of those boys right now. You know how hard we worked this summer, but my arms look like garter snakes—in a room full of pythons!

      Yeah, said Pork Chop, without turning around. "Some of these dudes make me look small. I’m not used to that."

      Cody surveyed the scene. It was the first day

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