Jerry James’s foot came down gently on the brake pedal of Old Faithful, his cut-down, open-air jalopy, and as the car slowed, Sandy Steele vaulted lightly over the side onto the pavement. With a wave of his hand and the shout, “See you tonight, Jerry,” Sandy whirled and sprinted up the front walk. His long, gangling legs gobbled up the distance with astonishing ease and catapulted Sandy up the porch steps three at a time. But then, after the screen door had slammed shut behind him, Sandy Steele came to a sudden halt as though tackled by an entire enemy football team.…
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