Froston was one of three other junior high schools besides Crooked Creek that fed students into Jericho High, so the rivalry was a bitter one. Froston was also a town that looked down its nose at Crooked Creek because the average home there was twice as expensive and they had a mall in the town center with all the latest and greatest stores and restaurants.

Danny looked around the Crooked Creek stadium. That was something Froston didn’t have, not like this anyway. The home stands held two thousand people. There was a press box and a concession stand with public bathrooms. It was as big as some high school stadiums—not Jericho’s of course. But the people of Crooked Creek needed seats for everyone and the town had issued a bond five years ago to see to it, so this was a source of pride for all.

Danny stretched his legs and watched the Froston players file off their bus in two columns. Their sky-blue helmets and jerseys seemed somehow overly proud to Danny. They took the field in perfect formation, and a slow, steady chant filled the air.

“We are . . . Frost-ton . . . We are . . . Frost-ton . . .”

They circled the entire field, sometimes passing within a few feet of the Crooked Creek players, before they emerged onto the field from the far goalposts. When they’d spread themselves evenly across the field, they began a wild rant of clapping and bellowing that ended with one final sudden clap that echoed off the brick side of the school.

Danny’s teammates were on their backs, stretching their quads, when Cupcake erupted in a lone, loud voice that was obviously intended to be heard by their opponents. “Wow! That’s some bad barley. They’d win the regional cheer competition, hands down!”

Danny and his teammates burst into nervous laughter.

“All right, Cupcake,” Coach Kinen scolded as he walked among his ranks. “I hope you’re this chipper after our first offensive drive.”

“Just so long as you let the big dog eat, Coach, we’ll all be chipper.”

“Oh, and you’re the big dog?” Coach Kinen asked.

“Not me, Coach. Danny Owens!” Cupcake hollered. “Feed the big dog and we’ll send these rich kids and their baby blanket jerseys back where they belong.”

As the team got to its feet for arm circles, they began to chant, “Dan-eee, Dan-eee, Dan-eee . . .”

They kept it up for the final few minutes of their stretching, and Danny soaked it in. He couldn’t help looking into the quickly filling stands, hoping his mom and Janey and even Mr. Crenshaw were there to hear. He found his mom and Janey easy because his mom wore his dad’s black-and-gold number 33 jersey. They were on the fifty-yard line right below the press box. He didn’t spot Mr. C.

Coach Kinen blew his whistle and stretching ended. Players lined up on the goal line and did agility drills back and forth until it was time for them to do some quick tackling drills and then run some plays. When the warm-up was complete, everyone surrounded Jace, barking and hopping up and down until the signal when they broke down into hit positions with a unified war cry.

They jogged to their sideline, where guys made last-minute equipment adjustments or got a final gulp of water before the national anthem and the coin toss. Jace won the toss, which prompted more “Dan-eee” chants.

Danny took a handoff up the middle on the first play. He hit the line like a cannonball. Bodies flew and tumbled. His legs got bogged down in the tangle of arms and legs, but not before he’d run for twelve yards and a first down. He hopped up, high-fiving his teammates and feeding on their excitement.

That’s how they went down the field, Danny left, Danny right, Danny straight up the gut. His shortest run was seven yards and he punched it into the end zone from the fifteen-yard line, running right off Cupcake’s big backside. The stadium—spilling fans from the stands—went crazy.

Cupcake’s enormous head looked like it had been shoehorned into his helmet. His eyes were bright as stars as he banged his facemask against Danny’s. “This is just the beginning! It’s all beef today! It’s a beef bonanza!”

And it was.

Danny ran for 243 yards and scored five touchdowns by the fourth quarter, when the backup players went into the game to run out the clock. As he jogged off the field, the crowd stood up to cheer. Danny pumped a fist in the air. Coach Kinen gave him a hug and patted his helmet. Danny put his helmet on the bench and got a drink as teammates fist-bumped and high-fived him.

Up in the stands, his mom and Janey waved down at him, both of them beaming with pride. Danny felt his own cheeks flush with pride and he tried not to be obvious as he searched the crowd for his counselor.

He was glad, when he spotted Mr. C, that it didn’t bother Danny to see him sitting beside Ms. Rait. It was a good thing, actually. He felt certain that after what they’d seen today, things would be very different.