Wallace keeps a hold on your hand and looks into your eyes. “You ain’t working with the cops, right?” he asks.
You literally freeze. It’s the simplest question, but it totally throws you off.
You break eye contact and look at your shoes for a second. “No,” you say. But you know you sounded unconvincing.
“I didn’t like the way you answered that question, kid,” Wallace says, his face getting redder.
“Uh,” you stammer. “I . . . I said ‘no.’”
Wallace picks up his phone and dials a few numbers. “I think we may have some heat here. No one comes into the gym until I say otherwise,” he says angrily. “No one!!”
You know he’s onto you. You did your best, but it doesn’t matter now. He gives you a cold stare now and adjusts the ring on one of his fingers. He slowly stands up from his desk chair.
You consider trying to run out of his office.
Just as Wallace starts to walk around his desk to you, his door bursts open. A huge group of federal agents come in and take him into custody. Within seconds, they are opening up file drawers and putting nearly everything in Wallace’s office into boxes.
None of the agents pay you much mind as they buzz about around you. Finally, you stand up from your chair and walk out of the club, which is now empty.
Outside, you see Agent Borck. “Hey, kid,” he says.
“I’m sorry. I know I messed everything up,” you say.
“Are you kidding me?” Borck says. “We got exactly what we needed. You did great, kid.”
You’re about to leave when you feel a hand on your shoulder. It’s Agent Martinez. “Thank you,” she says.
“You’re welcome,” you answer.
“You know, there’s going to be some kid,” she says, “maybe one who’s not as smart as you. And because of what you did today, it won’t be so easy for him to get into steroids.”
You say goodbye and walk home. It’s been one of the strangest days of your life. You won’t be going home a state champion, but perhaps, after you get past your disappointment, you’ll realize that today was a victory of a different kind.
THE END
The Iceman's Meltdown Page 6