Unstoppable by Tim Green

talking zombie. Maybe that wouldn’t matter on the football field. He’d always thought of the football field as a place where nothing else mattered, only what you are and what you can do. Butterflies swirled in his stomach. He strapped his helmet on, bit down on the mouthpiece, and headed out the door.
    Yells, grunts, and the crack of pads from the varsity and JV practice fields warmed Harrison’s blood. He couldn’t wait.
    The junior high team was spread out in orderly rows, stretching their legs. As Harrison approached, one boy pointed at him and said something to the player next to him. Word spread quickly and soon everyone was looking at him and pointing, and some of the kids were laughing out loud. Coach marched into their midst.
    â€œThat’s enough chatter!”
    Everyone went silent. Harrison reached the sideline and stopped.
    â€œBut Coach,” one brave soul shouted, “look at him!”
    All eyes were on Harrison, even Coach’s. Some of the boys snickered despite Coach’s glare. Harrison looked down at himself, knowing that he’d done something ridiculous and embarrassing but having no idea what.
    â€œHarrison,” Coach said, shaking his head, “come here, will you?”

Chapter Nineteen
    â€œYOU CLOWNS GET BACK to your stretching!” Coach barked at the rest of the team and they reacted right away.
    â€œHere,” Coach said, reaching for Harrison’s jersey, “let’s get that off of you.”
    â€œMy jersey? What’s wrong?” Harrison stood, limp.
    â€œNothing with your jersey.” Coach set his clipboard down in the grass and spoke in a low voice that the rest of the team couldn’t hear. “We’ve got to take it off so we can fix your shoulder pads.”
    â€œWhat’s wrong with them?” Harrison lowered his voice to a whisper and shifted the uncomfortable pads on his shoulders.
    Coach tried not to smile but couldn’t help himself. “They’re backward, Harrison. I have to admit, I thought I’d seen everything.”
    As Coach yanked the jersey over Harrison’s head, his cheeks felt like they had a sudden sunburn. “Oh, stupid,” Harrison said.
    â€œNo, not stupid.” Coach unsnapped the straps and turned the pads around on Harrison’s neck without taking them off. “Just funny. Don’t worry about it. It’s what you do with them that counts.”
    Coach helped get the jersey back on and slapped Harrison’s shoulder pad. “Get to work.”
    Harrison got into a spot at the back of one of the lines on the fifty-yard line and did his best to follow the lead of the kid next to him.
    â€œHey.” The boy reached across the space between them. “I’m Justin. Glad you got your pads on right.”
    Harrison studied the boy’s face for a moment, saw nothing mean, and took his hand. “Harrison.”
    â€œYou’re big.”
    Harrison didn’t know how to respond to that, so he kept quiet.
    â€œLineman, huh?” Justin said. “I’m a receiver.”
    Justin was small and thin, with blue eyes and dirty blond hair long enough to sprout from the edges of his helmet. Harrison hoped Justin was fast, because given his size, that was probably the only way he’d be much of a football player. Harrison wanted to think that the first friend he had—or might have—would be a good player.
    â€œI think maybe I’m going to be a running back,” Harrison said.
    â€œYou? You’re a monster.”
    Harrison scowled and touched the skin around his eye through his face mask. “This will heal.”
    â€œNo, I didn’t mean a monster because of your eye.” Justin laughed in a friendly way. “I meant, you’re huge , a monster.”
    â€œOh.” Harrison felt better. “Brandon Jacobs is the Giants’ running back. He’s six-foot-four and two hundred and sixty pounds.”
    Justin