Football
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"And don't do anything stupid like try to run," he said. "I'd hate to have to get rough."
I looked hard. He was still in the shadow of the truck. His hands were out of sight. Did he have a gun?
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Something wasn't right, though. Nate Brown was still lying out in the middle of the field. Dr. Stevens was kneeling beside him now, watching him intently and checking his pulse. My chest began to tighten, and I started to sweat. Why wasn't Nate getting up?
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Seymour went into deep-think mode. One eyebrow went up and one eyebrow went down. Mr. G. looked at me for a translation. I had no idea what was going on in Seymour's head. When it came to football, things were definitely weird.
