Just My Rotten Luck by James Patterson

Author:James Patterson [PATTERSON, JAMES / TEBBETTS, CHRIS]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Juvenile Fiction / Humorous Stories, Juvenile Fiction / Social Issues / Adolescence, Juvenile Fiction / Social Issues / Self-Esteem & Self-Reliance, Juvenile Fiction / Sports & Recreation / Football, Juvenile Fiction / Art & Architecture
Publisher: Little, Brown and Company
Published: 2015-06-22T00:00:00+00:00

Were we still going to lose the game? Well, put it this way: Does a bear poop in the woods? Yes and yes.

But no matter what happened after that, nobody could ever take those six points away from me. Not even Mrs. Stricker and Mrs. Stonecase. And for the first time in the history of me and middle school, I could actually be happy about something going onto my permanent record.

Go, Falcons, go!

GIRL TROUBLE, ON THE DOUBLE

After the game was over (Southside 38, Hills Village 6), Mom gave me a big hug, and then Grandma gave me one of her freaky-strong HUGE hugs. Seriously, Dotty could hug the skin off a boa constrictor if she wanted to.

“Next stop, the NBA!” Grandma said.

“Do you mean the NFL?” I asked her.

“That too,” she said. Grandma’s not exactly a sports fan, but at least she’s a Rafe fan.

Even Georgia was a tiny bit impressed. “I guess you’re going to need a bigger helmet,” she told me, “because I can see your head blowing up already.”

“We don’t wear helmets,” I said.

“Whatever,” she said. “Congratulations, I guess.”

Then Mom said she was taking us all to Swifty’s for burgers, including Flip if he wanted, and I told her I’d go find out.

Which I did. But first, I made a quick swing by the snack bar—also known as accidentally-on-purpose-bumping-into-Jeanne-Galletta-after-I’d-scored-a-touchdown. (I mean, seriously, can you blame me?)

Jeanne was just packing up the candy bars and soda cups when I got there.

“Hi, Rafe!” she said. “Great job today!”

“Oh, hi, Jeanne,” I said, like I didn’t even know she was going to be there. But we could have had ESPN reporters all around us and the president of the United States asking for my autograph, and the only person I would have seen was Jeanne, Jeanne, Jeanne.

“I heard you scored a touchdown,” Jeanne said.

“You… heard?” I said.

“We were pretty busy, so I didn’t get to see the game,” she told me.

“Oh, gotcha,” I said, trying to sound like I wasn’t totally bummed out now. I’d just had my Big Moment, and Jeanne was too busy putting fake butter on popcorn to notice.

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