Rumors

by Phil M. Williams

  “Goddammit,” Coach Barnett said, watching in vain as the safety sprinted toward the go ahead score.

  Shane gave up on the play, not making any effort to catch the defender, but Lance chased the safety down the sideline, tackling him at the five-yard line, just shy of a touchdown. The Vikings now had a first and goal at the five-yard line with fifty-seven seconds left on the clock.

  “What the hell were you thinkin’?” Coach Schneider said to Shane as he walked off the field. “I told you to throw the hitch. It was wide open.”

  Shane ignored his coach and sat on the bench, alone.

  “Defense, goal-line package,” Coach Barnett called out. The defensive players hustled out to the field, putting on their helmets as they did so.

  The middle linebacker, Drew Fuller, stopped in front of Coach Barnett. “Gotta play, Coach?”

  Coach Barnett put his hand on Drew’s shoulder. “Goal line house zero. We need this stop.”

  Drew nodded. “I got you, Coach.” He hustled onto the field.

  Predictably, the Vikings ran the ball on first down, but Barnett had gambled, sending all eleven defenders on the blitz, and they stuffed the run for a three-yard loss. Barnett signaled another play to Drew. On second down, the Vikings’ quarterback threw a fade route to the back of the end zone, but it was well covered and knocked away by the Wolf Pack defender—incomplete. The clock stopped on the incompletion.

  On third and eight, the Vikings’ quarterback threw a swing pass. The Wolf Pack outside linebacker was pinned inside, leaving the Vikings’ running back wide open. He caught the pass and sprinted for the pylon. Drew Fuller dashed from his middle linebacker position, racing the running back to the end zone. At the one-yard line, Drew crushed the running back, the hit echoing through the stadium, stopping him just shy of the goal line.

  With twenty-one seconds left on the clock, the Vikings burned their final time-out. Coach Barnett trotted out and talked to his defense during the time-out.

  When he returned to the sideline, Coach Schneider asked, “What’s the call?”

  “Goal line, submarine, zero,” Coach Barnett replied.

  Lance waved his arms up and down on the sideline, encouraging the crowd to cheer louder. The crowd was at a fever pitch as the Vikings’ offense broke the huddle. On the snap of the ball, the Wolf Pack defensive line dove at the legs of the offensive line, upending them and creating a pile. The Vikings’ quarterback handed the ball to the running back, who sprinted up the middle toward the pile of players. He leaped over the pile, but Drew had the running back in his sights and had leaped over the pile in perfect synchronicity. They collided in midair, the running back going sideways and falling like a ton of bricks, just shy of the end zone. No touchdown.

  The Wolf Pack defense and sideline celebrated. The fans cheered, the noise deafening.

  CHAPTER 23

  Rick and That Drink

  The celebration had dissipated along with the crowd. Rick helped load the sideline gear onto the back of the Gator utility vehicle. With the Gator loaded with water coolers, the equipment manager drove toward the shed. Rick looked up at the scoreboard and smiled to himself, thinking about the gutsiest goal line stand he’d ever seen.

  Vice Principal Janet Wilcox approached from the bleachers with a wide smile. She wore jeans and a tight Wolf Pack Football T-shirt. She clutched what was left of her youth with a death grip, the metaphorical feminine wall fast approaching.

  “I can’t take these close games,” she said as she approached. “You’re going to give me a heart attack.”

  “The Vikings are always tough. Hopefully they won’t all be like this, but a win’s a win.”

  “Well, the boys played great.” She smiled wide. “You want to get that drink? Celebrate? I’m buying.”

  Rick forced a smile. “I still have three hours of film study tonight, then films with the team tomorrow morning.”

  Her mouth turned down for a split second. Then she smiled back and said, “Next time then.”

  Rick nodded. How about never?

  “I was wondering why you threw the ball on third and five at the end? I don’t know that much about football, but I do know that was a questionable call. It put Shane in a really bad position.”

  Rick clenched his jaw and paused for a moment. “We make a lot of mistakes, and we do our best to learn from them, but it’s never about one bad play or one bad call.”

  CHAPTER 24

  Janet and the Facebook Friend

  Don Pruitt sat at his desk, reading Field & Stream. Janet knocked on his open door. He set down the magazine and smiled at Janet, his beady blue eyes shrinking to mere slits. “Morning, Janet,” he said.

  Janet approached his desk, returning his smile. “Are you and Nancy going to the game tonight? It’s at home again.”

  “We’re looking forward to it. I tell you what. That game last week against the Vikings was something else. What about you?”

  “I’ll definitely be there. I don’t want to miss a single minute of Shane’s senior season.”

  “He’s got one heckuva cannon for an arm. You must be proud.”

  “I am. Thanks, Don. I’ll stop by and sit with you two, if that’s okay?”

  “That’d be great. Nance would love that.”

  “I’ll see you tonight.” Janet turned and started for the doorway.

  “Janet,” Pruitt called out.

  She turned back at the threshold.

  “What do Billy Graham and the Lancaster Indian football team have in common?”

  Janet shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “They can both make a stadium of people say, ‘Oh, Jesus.’” He chuckled, slapping his knee.

  Janet forced a smile, then walked to her office. She shut her door, sat behind her desk, and sent a text.

  Janet: I need to talk to you. Come to my office as soon as possible

  Rachel: Be there in five

  Rachel’s knock came in three minutes.

  “Come in,” Janet said.

  Rachel entered the office and shut the door behind her. She sat across from Janet at her desk, wearing little football earrings and a WL Wolf Pack sweatshirt.

  “What do you need?” Rachel asked, her full attention on Janet.

  “I think it may be time to do something about Don.”

  “I agree. I’m so tired of the old boys’ club around here.”

  Janet nodded and sighed. “I really like Don as a person, but, for all intents and purposes, he’s already retired. As you know, he does less than nothing. I worry that crucial things are falling through the cracks. It’s not a good situation for the kids or the community.”

  “Do you think he should be fired?”

  “Of course not. He just needs to retire. He has enough years, but he’s hanging on to milk as much money from the district as possible. Maybe our Facebook friend can get that information out to the community.”

  Rachel grinned, her thin lips spreading across her chubby face. “I’m sure she can.”

  “With public support and a majority school board in favor of his retirement, I think he’d do the right thing. Unfortunately, we don’t have a majority on the school board yet. As you know, the five mainstays are part of the old boys’ club, but Daub and Pastor Goode are up for reelection this fall. If we could find a way to unseat one of them, we’d have the majority.”

  “It’ll be darn difficult. They’ve been on the board forever.”

  Janet nodded. “Maybe you could do a little digging in the community to find out anything that might be helpful.”

  “I’ll ask around.”

  “Good.”

  “Who’s gonna run against them? Are you backing someone?”

  “Officially, I’m not backing anyone.”

  “Unofficially?”

  “I haven’t decided yet.”

  CHAPTER 25

  Gwen and the Invisible Wish

  Gwen stood in front of her class, the whiteboard behind her with various example
s of dialogue punctuation.

  “Does anyone have any more questions about punctuating dialogue?” Gwen asked. “This is very important for your short stories.”

  The class hung by a thread, with mouths open, heads propped up with hands, and eyes glazed over.

  “All right, lovelies. Stand up. You guys are falling asleep,” Gwen said.

  The class groaned and rose from their seats.

  “Everyone shake your arms.” Gwen shook her arms with her students. “Now shake your right leg. Now your left.” Smiles appeared, and a few students laughed. “Now spin around like a ballerina.” Gwen and many of the girls held their hands gracefully over their heads and spun in a circle.

  Many boys frowned with their arms crossed over their chests.

  “I’m not doin’ that,” Drew Fuller said from the back.

  “I thought you were an athlete,” Gwen said, smiling, looking at his number forty-four jersey. “Maybe one of the girls should play linebacker tonight.”

  The class laughed, including Drew, who did a perfect pirouette. Much of the class clapped for him. Shane called him a “Homo” under his breath. Gwen heard the comment but ignored it, as Drew wasn’t bothered in the least; she didn’t want to give it extra life.

  “All right, are we awake now?”

  “Yes,” the class said in unison.

  “You can sit down.”

  The class slumped into their seats.

  “Now that we’ve had a refresher on dialogue punctuation, let’s talk about the content. Does anyone know what makes good dialogue?”

  Nobody raised their hand.

  “Anyone?” She looked at Caleb.

  He sat in the front row, wearing an old T-shirt and shorts, an outfit Gwen was sure she’d seen him wear earlier this week. His bright green eyes were partially hidden by his mop of straight hair swept to the side.

  “Come on, guys,” Gwen said. “We learned all about dialogue the first week of school.”

  Jamar raised his hand.

  “Jamar,” Gwen said, pointing to the athletic young man wearing a number two jersey.

  “You have to take out the boring parts,” he said.

  “That’s good, Jamar.” Gwen wrote Jamar’s point on the whiteboard and turned back to the class. “Sometimes we might include some boring bits as setup, but we definitely want to edit out as much as we can. Anything else? Come on, guys. Just blurt it out. No need to raise your hand.”

  “It has to sound real but not too real,” Caleb said.

  Gwen smiled at Caleb. “You’re exactly right. Can you tell me why?”

  “Because, if it was really real, it would be a bunch of grunts and nods and boring stuff.”

  “Excellent, Caleb. Much of human communication is nonverbal, and a book of grunts and head nods would be pretty boring.” Gwen added Caleb’s point to the board, then addressed the class. “Anything else?”

  The class was silent for a beat.

  “Good dialogue should fit the characterization of the characters,” Caleb said.

  “Absolutely. Can you be more specific?” Gwen asked.

  Caleb flipped his hair from his eyes. “Well, if a character goes to church, and he never swears, then he might say gosh darn or something like that if he got mad. If a character is really smart, maybe he might use more complicated words. I think you have to figure out who the characters are. Then what they say has to reflect that.”

  Gwen grinned from ear to ear. “Fantastic, Caleb.”

  Shane coughed into his fist and said, “Faggot.”

  Shane, Drew, and Lance laughed, along with a handful of other boys.

  Caleb turned in his seat, his face scarlet. “Shut up, douchebags.”

  “What are you gonna do about it, bitch?” Shane replied.

  “That’s enough,” Gwen said, glaring at the boys in back.

  They quieted. Shane slouched in his seat with a smirk, his diamond earrings glistening in the fluorescent light.

  “I’d like to talk to you in the hallway, Shane,” Gwen said.

  “What? Why?” Shane replied, not moving a muscle.

  “You know why. Bring your stuff.”

  Shane pointed at Caleb and said, “He’s the one who called us douchebags.”

  “In the hallway, now.”

  The class gasped and whispered among themselves.

  “Whatever,” Shane said, standing from his desk.

  Gwen addressed the class. “Everyone, take out your novels and read for the time being.”

  Gwen stood by her open door. Shane strutted past. She stepped into the hallway, shutting her classroom door behind her. Shane stood with his backpack looped over one shoulder, looking down on Gwen with one side of his mouth raised in contempt.

  “There are two things I despise,” Gwen said. “Bullying and lying. I won’t have bullying in my classroom, and I don’t give breaks to liars. Why do you feel the need to pick on Caleb?”

  “I didn’t do nothin’,” Shane replied. “Why isn’t he in trouble for callin’ me a douchebag?”

  “He didn’t start it. You did. And he’s a tenth grader who’s half your size. Do you really think it’s cool for the captain of the football team to pick on someone half his size?”

  Shane was stone-faced. “I didn’t do nothin’.”

  “You’re not leaving me with any options, Shane. If I write you up, you won’t play tonight.”

  He shrugged. “You must not’ve heard right. I said, ‘Farmer,’ ’cause he walks through the cornfields. I didn’t mean it bad. This is bullshit. He’s the one who should be in trouble.”

  Gwen walked across the hall and knocked on Lewis Phelps’s classroom door. She knew he was without students that period. Lewis opened his door.

  “Can you watch my classroom for a few minutes?” Gwen asked. “They’re just reading.”

  “Sure.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Phelps.”

  “Let’s go,” Gwen said to Shane.

  Gwen led Shane to the main office.

  “Sit down,” Gwen said, pointing to the waiting area across from the reception desk.

  Shane slumped into one of the plastic and metal chairs.

  Gwen turned her attention to the reception desk and Principal Pruitt’s elderly secretary, Grace Moyer. “Hi, Mrs. Moyer.”

  She cocked her head. “It’s Ms. Townsend, right?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I have a discipline issue for Principal Pruitt.”

  Mrs. Moyer glanced at Shane, who was tapping on his phone. “Principal Pruitt’s gone for the day, but Vice Principal Wilcox’s here.”

  Gwen frowned. “Isn’t that a conflict of interest?”

  Mrs. Moyer shrugged. “Would you like to see her or not?”

  “Yes.”

  Mrs. Moyer called Janet’s office. “Ms. Townsend’s here. She has a discipline problem for you.” She listened for a beat. “Okay, I’ll send her back.” She hung up the phone and looked to Gwen. “You can go back now.”

  “Thank you,” Gwen replied.

  Gwen walked down the hallway, passing the counselor’s and Pruitt’s offices. She knocked on Janet’s door.

  “Come in,” Janet said.

  Gwen entered Janet’s office and approached her desk. The vice principal was in her mid-forties, voluptuous, with fake blond hair, and stylish glasses.

  “I’m sorry to bother you, but I have a disciplinary issue,” Gwen said.

  “Sit down,” Janet said, motioning to one of the chairs in front of her desk.

  Gwen sat and crossed her legs. “I hate to put you in this position, but with Principal Pruitt gone for the day …”

  “What’s the problem, Gwen?”

  “It’s Shane. He called another student a … faggot, threatened the student, then lied about what he did.”

  Janet sighed and shook her head. “Where is he now?”

  “He’s in the office waiting area.”

  “Are you planning to write him up?”

  “I’m sorry but yes. I do
n’t tolerate bullying in my classroom. I know it means he can’t play in the game tonight.”

  Janet pursed her lips. “Well, you must have a class to get back to. Send Shane back to my office. I’ll take care of it.”

  “Do you want me to give the write-up to Mrs. Moyer?”

  “No, please put it in my mailbox. Grace can be quite the gossip. It wouldn’t be fair for Shane to have his mistake spread among the staff. Do you understand?”

  “Of course. Thank you, Principal Wilcox.”

  Gwen sent Shane to see his mother. Gwen filled out the discipline report, put it in Wilcox’s mailbox, and returned to class. Shortly after she thanked Lewis for watching her class, the bell rang.

  “Don’t forget to turn in your personal narratives, if you haven’t already done so,” Gwen said to her class as they readied their backpacks and purses. A handful of students added personal narratives to the stack on Gwen’s desk. As Caleb passed her desk, she said, “Caleb, may I speak with you for a moment?”

  Once the kids were gone, Gwen turned her attention to Caleb. “I’m sorry about what happened in class. Are you okay?”

  Caleb shrugged. “I’m fine.”

  “You sure? You want to talk about it?”

  He frowned. “I’d rather not. Can I go?”

  “Of course, honey. I’m here if you need to talk.”

  He nodded and left her classroom.

  Gwen sat at her desk, leafing through the stack of essays, especially interested in one bright student. She had been looking forward to her free period, the chance to rest her aching feet and to read their essays. Caleb’s personal narrative was entitled The Invisible Wish.

  Here’s my big fat disclaimer. You may not wanna read this because it’s stupid bullshit. I don’t even wanna write it. I’d rather be invisible.

  I wish I was invisible. I wish I could breeze through my day, unfettered and unmolested. I don’t want attention, but somehow I seem to attract it just by being me. I’m not nothing. I’m less than nothing because, if I was nothing, I’d be invisible. I wish I could be so lucky to be nothing, to be invisible. That would be a huge step up.