Luckily for Bobby, he didn’t have PE every day. It was Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, leaving him Tuesday and Thursday, plus the weekend, to recover. Mr. Rainerhaus was a very stern teacher. Each class started with fifty jumping jacks and a brisk run around the playground with him yelling, “Faster! Go faster!”

Bobby didn’t like it when people yelled at him. Some kids didn’t let it bother them when they were yelled at, like St. James. St. James got yelled at all the time. But when someone yelled at Bobby, even if it was a despicable person like Jillian Zarr, it made him feel bad for a long time.

“Forty-seven, forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty!”

Mr. Rainerhaus blew his whistle. Everyone stopped, except for Jackson. Jackson was weird and loved jumping jacks as much as Bobby loved skateboarding. If there was a world record for jumping jacks, Jackson could probably break it. Bobby wondered if one day he’d ever break any records, like Troy Eagle. Troy held the world-record ollie — fifty-two inches in the air. That was taller than Bobby.

“I know we’ve been playing soccer for a while,” Mr. Rainerhaus announced, “so it’s time for a change. And this one will be quite a treat! We’ll finish up soccer today and start a new sport on Monday.”

Bobby blinked several times. It looked like Mr. Rainerhaus was smiling at him.

“What do you think we’ll play next?” Chess whispered.

Bobby shrugged. He was fine with soccer. Soccer wasn’t so bad. All you had to do was run up and down the field. He could do that. During the last game, he scored a point when Swoozie, who was the goalie, was watching a butterfly.

Bobby hoped they wouldn’t be playing softball. Softball was bad news. You could get hit by the ball and get a concussion. His dad had gotten a concussion more than once when playing football.

At the end of soccer, Mr. Rainerhaus gathered the students. “We have a celebrity among us!” he announced. Bobby tried to spot the celebrity, but all he saw was one of the boys picking his nose by pretending he had an itch, and a girl scratching her armpit and then looking horrified when she saw Bobby watching. Maybe Swoozie was the celebrity because she was such a good singer.

Then Mr. Rainerhaus winked at Bobby and proclaimed, “I can’t believe I’ve gone all this time without realizing that the son of my all-time favorite football player is in this class!”

Bobby flinched.

“Bobby Ellis-Chan, why didn’t you tell me that The Freezer is your father?” Mr. Rainerhaus squatted, put one arm out, and growled in an imitation of The Freezer’s most famous move. “Best linebacker the LA Earthquakes ever had. Best darn football player this country has ever seen!” Mr. Rainerhaus enthused. “My world stood still when Sam Benzoni tackled The Freezer and busted his knee. The day he retired from football was one of the saddest days of my life. I even cried. And I’m man enough to admit that!”

He looked like he was about to cry again.

Bobby decided to change his superhero power from superhuman strength to invisibility. He would give anything to be invisible right now.

“So!” Mr. Rainerhaus said, clearing his throat, “in honor of The Freezer, and because we have his very own son right here in this class, next week we will start — FOOTBALL! Bobby Ellis-Chan, I’m going to be watching you,” he said, wagging a finger at Bobby. “I’ll bet you can teach this class a thing or two. Heck, I’ll bet you could teach me. Perhaps,” Mr. Rainerhaus laughed, “I’ll just have you take over.”

Bobby glanced at Holly. She looked as worried as he did.

“Okay then,” Mr. Rainerhaus called out. “Class dismissed!”

Before Bobby could make his way back to Room 15, Mr. Rainerhaus stopped him. “It really is an honor to be your teacher,” he said. Then he shook Bobby’s hand so hard it made Bobby’s head bobble up and down. “I wonder …” Mr. Rainerhaus hesitated. “Is there any way I could meet your dad? Maybe he could come to PE. It would mean so much to me.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Bobby mumbled. He flexed his fingers to see if they still worked. “But my dad’s pretty busy, you know, with stuff and things and stuff and … um, stuff. So he probably can’t come to school.”

Mr. Rainerhaus grew solemn. “I understand,” he said, nodding. “A man like The Freezer probably has lots of important things to do.”