Love's Spark

by L A Cotton

  “AGHHHHHH.” Keylon’s voice cracked as he tried to swallow his tears.

  “Oh no, you don’t, Spikey.” I had collared the kid before he tried throwing another punch. “Knock it off. NOW,” I roared commanding everyone’s attention.

  “You’ve had your fun. You, go over to your team. You, with me.” My hand curved around the small of Keylon’s neck, and I pushed him toward our team.

  Kenny, Reece, and Keylon were all sporting cuts and the beginning of some bruising. A couple of the smaller kids looked like they’d have shiners tomorrow as well. Sharn was trying to calm Kenny down, who was pacing like a wild bull waiting to see the red flag.

  “To the minibus. NOW.”

  Otis and Jai jumped, and the other boys stalked past me in the direction of the parking lot. Most of them had the sense to hang their heads in shame. Keylon was clutching his nose, blood dripping on his jersey. Sharn looked ready to faint; her face was pale and her eyes were darting from Keylon’s blood-stained jersey to his messed-up nose.

  Retrieving the first aid kit from the bus, I dug out gauze and wipes. Keylon needed medical attention, so there would be no time for changing. I gestured for the boys to get in the bus, instructing four of them to go collect all the bags from the locker room. Sharn and Keylon took a seat on the bench outside the green building, and I set to trying to clean him up best I could.

  “What the hell were you thinking, Keylon?” Sharn asked, trying to avoid looking directly at the pool of blood forming on his shirt.

  He just shrugged. Fucking perfect.

  “We’ll talk about this later. Hold this to your nose. We’ll call parents, drop everyone off, and take you to the ER. You’ll need it set.”

  ~

  As I pulled into the parking lot at GHS, the tension in the bus was suffocating. The boys were probably waiting for me to lose it. I hadn’t said anything the whole ride home, concentrating on the road and not the fury boiling under the surface. Sharn sat with Keylon, who moaned like a baby the entire time. A handful of parents were waiting to the side of the lot as I parked. I cut the engine, rose from the driver’s seat, and stood to face everyone.

  “What happened back there was unacceptable. There are never any excuses for violence. Ever. Do you all understand-”

  “But, Coach, that guy had been provoking Keylon the whole time. He deserved-”

  I slammed my fist onto the rail. “ENOUGH.”

  Seventeen pairs of eyes widened at the boom of my voice reverberating around the inside of the bus. “I don’t want to hear it. You are better than that. You let me down today. You let Miss M down. You let the school down. But, most of all, you let yourselves down. School’s out next week so there’s no session. I suggest you all take the time to think about whether you want to complete the program or not. Now go.”

  They filed off, one by one, a quiet chorus of murmured apologies trailing behind. I met with some of the parents and explained what had happened, reassuring them that both the school and I would deal with their behavior after school break. Sharn never got off of the bus to talk to the parents herself.

  As I climbed back in the driver’s seat, I caught Sharn’s eye in the mirror. They were full of disappointment and concern.

  “We’ll head to Shands ER, Keylon. How’s it feel?”

  Another shrug. He was really starting to test my patience, and I was seriously close to losing my shit.

  Pulling out of the lot, I could hear Sharn trying to question him about the fight with Spikey. She seemed to be calmer than she had been out on the field—her low voice and gentle tone trying to coax a response from Keylon. We pulled into Shands a few minutes later, and I dropped them off and went to park. Keylon had already called his mom and filled her in. After all the high-pitched screeching down the cell phone, she’d agreed to meet us at the hospital. As I headed toward the ER main doors, a short Afro-Caribbean woman was pacing outside. Her shoulders were drawn back and her face etched with worry. She had a very different build to Keylon, but the eyes were a dead giveaway.

  “Hello, Ms. King?”

  Her head whipped up and she took a defensive stance—arms crossed over her chest and jaw tensed. “And you are?”

  I extended my hand to her. “I’m Coach Smith, Keylon’s coach.”

  She eyed my hand but made no attempt to reciprocate. “What all you think you doing getting my boy into a fight? I knew better than letting him go off to some baseball game-”

  “Ms. King. Please. Keylon instigated the fight. Yes, he was provoked, but he threw the first punch, ma’am.”

  Her eyes widened with disbelief. “I want to see my boy.” She moved toward the door, but I moved around her and stepped inside, motioning for her to join me. At the reception desk, we found a bloodied Keylon and Sharn filling out paperwork. She looked up as we approached. “Ah, you must be Ms. King? I’m Miss Macer, Keylon’s teacher.”

  She looked Sharn up and down and tutted. Sharn’s cheeks grew flushed and she seemed to shrink into herself. “Lord Jesus, boy. What you be getting yourself into?” Her eyes moved from her son to Sharn and me. “I’ll take care of this now. You can both go.”

  Keylon stood still and silent at his mother’s side, staring at the floor.

  “We can wait. It’s really no trouble.”

  “Miss Macer, I don’t need you to be looking out for my boy.” It wasn’t a statement—it was a dismissal—and she led Keylon away from us. Sharn watched with trepidation.

  “Well, that didn’t quite go as I planned.” She sounded so defeated, and I could see how much it was affecting her. The feisty, flirty girl who usually made my hairs stand to attention was gone.

  “Come on, let’s go. I have to fill out the incident reports and paperwork. Coach is gonna shit a brick.”

  ~

  “Okay, I’m done. You okay?”

  Sharn sat with her head leaning on the window of the minibus. She’d somehow managed to curl her bare feet underneath her—fitting perfectly on the double seat. I sealed the paperwork into an envelope and stuffed it into my bag, before swiveling my body to face Sharn. “Hey, I asked if you were okay?”

  “What? Oh, sorry. Just stressed. I can’t believe what a disaster it was. The principal is going to lose it, and I’ll be to blame.”

  “Hey, no one will blame you. I’ll clear things up; don’t worry. I don’t know about you, but I need a drink. You in?”

  What? Fuck.

  “Hmm,” she hesitated. “If you’re sure.”

  Before I could say something even more stupid, I fired up the bus and headed for town.

  “So, where are we going?”

  Shit. I couldn’t take her Durty’s—but the guys might be there, so I went with the first thing that came to mind. “The Pitcher. You know it? It’s a dive but has great beer and fries.”

  She just shrugged and I silently cursed. What the fuck was I thinking?

  Ten minutes later, I still didn’t know as I banged the bottle down on the table. “One bottle of Bud with lime.”

  “Thanks.” She smiled weakly.

  “We’ll have to talk to the boys first session back after the break. I don’t tolerate violence on my teams. Period.”

  “I’m still in shock. Did you see Keylon’s nose? And Kenny and Marc had black eyes. Black eyes, Keefer. They’re ninth graders. How in the hell am I going to explain this to the principal? Oh God, do you think I should call him now? What time is it?”

  “It’s about six.”

  “He’s probably still at the school. I should call him. Tell him. I shouldn’t wait? Right?” Her words came out quick and rushed and I struggled to keep up.

  “He’ll go mad when he finds out. Oh, God. My job, what if he wants my job? I love my job. Seriously, do you think he’ll blame me? There was nothing I could’ve done, right? Crap. Maybe if it’d just been Keylon and that spikey-haired boy, it would have been okay. But it was a riot. Even Otis threw down with one of their players. Keefer, what am I going to do. It’s a total
disaster. How am I going to-”

  I all but leaped up from the bench and leaned down across the table. Cupping her face in my hands, I smashed my lips onto hers, cutting her off. She tasted so fucking good that I couldn’t resist parting her lips with my tongue. I knew I’d shocked her, and at first, she wasn’t responding. But when I swiped my tongue across her bottom lip, a soft moan escaped her and she relaxed into her seat, letting me in. Our tongues tangled together and I almost died right there—Sharn-fucking-Macer was officially ruining me. Trying to find the willpower to finish what I’d started, I pulled back ever so slightly, grazing her lower lip with my teeth. She shivered and the slight action zip lined straight to my dick. Fuck. The reality of the situation hit me, and I realized I was standing in a grimy bar booth, leaning over a table, and kissing a girl who I refused to drag into my shit. My head screamed at me to pull away.

  “Wha-what was that?” She batted her eyes at me, a look of confusion on her face.

  “You were having some kind of meltdown. It was a distraction.”

  Yeah, good one, Smith.

  “Distraction, right.” Her eyes looked everywhere but at me, and I felt like I’d just made everything ten time worse. Shit. This was awkward. “So, umm, you should probably call the principal. Set things straight, and I’ll call tomorrow and back up your story?”

  “Right, yeah.” The heat in her cheeks deepened. “I’d better go. Thanks for the drink. See you in two weeks.” Sharn grabbed her purse, smiled weakly, and hurried out of the bar as I sat and watched in amazement.

  What in the hell had I just done? Fucking great. I kissed her then dismissed her. Fucktard. I drank down the rest of the beer. I was Sharn’s ride back to GHS; I couldn’t just let her run off like that, all because of my dumbass move. I stalked toward the door, unsure of what to say once I found her outside. But when I stepped out onto the street, Sharn was gone.

  Chapter 9

  ~ Sharn ~

  I’d never felt more stupid in my entire life. Keefer had kissed me—and holy hell, what a kiss. Then he’d dismissed me like a cute, annoying puppy. I’d rushed out of the grimy bar and hailed the first cab I saw. Keefer kissed me. I knew that I hadn’t imagined it—I could still taste him on my lips. Mint and beer. But the look on his face afterward sent me crashing back to reality. What a shitty end to a shitty day.

  The cab pulled up outside my home, and I passed the driver a twenty. I still felt sick to my stomach. The kind of sick you feel when you find out you’ve failed a really big exam—or the feeling you have after being dumped. The kind of sick I felt when Benson announced he was leaving me. Seeing Keefer’s face after he kissed me didn’t hurt quite as bad, but it sure as hell didn’t feel nice. As I walked through the house to the kitchen, tears began to pool behind my eyes. Benson. Just his name made my chest ache, but I wasn’t crying for Benson. Not anymore. I’d cried my last tear for him months ago. The tears were for what I lost—my chance at happiness, love, a future as far away from Cindy Macer as possible.

  “Dad? I’m home. Long day. I’ll be in my room if you need me,” I called out, my voice echoing through the quiet house. His car was in the driveway, so he was around somewhere, but the last thing I wanted was to watch him go through more of Mom’s clothes.

  Once in my room, I fired up my laptop. During the cab ride, I’d called Principal Delaney. He was calmer than I expected but wanted a written report before the night was out. My eyes scanned the screen and my heart lifted at the sight of one of the sender’s emails.

  Sharn,

  Sorry I haven’t replied sooner. I’ve been so busy with work and volunteering. Ecuador was amazing. Staci talked me into staying out there for another couple months. We got back last fall. It was amazing; the people, the food, the culture. I loved working with the families and children. Really sorry things aren’t good at home. I have some news that will, hopefully, cheer you up, though. I’m MOVING BACK. It’s a long story and I won’t be back for another two or three months, but as soon as I’m home, I’ll call. Keep smiling. Miss you.

  Livy x

  The tears trickled down my cheeks as I read the email for a second time. My life had done a one-eighty in the last year, and it sucked, but getting my old best friend back would be just what I needed.

  ~

  All day my eyes watched the parking lot from my classroom, hoping to see a glimpse of Keefer. Not that I actually wanted to see him yet…it would be far too awkward. Principal Delaney hauled each and every one of the boys into his office first thing this morning, and they were given detention for the rest of the week. Keylon didn’t show up, but Mrs King had called in to excuse him—which was a first. After I’d stuffed my satchel full of ungraded papers, I headed down the corridor to the principal’s office and knocked.

  “Come in.”

  “Hello, Sir. Only me.” My head craned around the door.

  “Ah, come in, Miss Macer.” He motioned to the chair facing him. “Take a seat.”

  “Thank you.” Whenever I visited his office, it brought back memories of my high school days, and I couldn’t help but feel seventeen all over again.

  “Coach Smith called and gave me his version of events. It sounded like things got out of control pretty quickly?” His stern gaze pinned me to the seat, but all I thought was Keefer called. Dammit, of course, he would have called instead of visiting.

  “Umm, yes, Sir. The other team had some players who were goading Keylon. But Keylon did throw the first punch.”

  He regarded me with such intensity that I squirmed in my seat. “I see. Mr. King will be suspended for the rest of the week. As for the rest of the boys, I have assigned them detention for the rest of the week. I have spoken to Coach Culhoon at Newberry, and he agrees that his boys were the instigators, despite our young Mr. King dishing out the first fist. The program is to continue.” His eyes left mine and he resumed working on the papers laid on his desk. I took that as my signal to leave. “Thank you, Sir.”

  The minute I stepped out of his room, I exhaled the breath I’d been holding. The guy scared the bejesus out of me. At least he hadn’t given me my marching orders for being unable to control seventeen ninth graders. I’d only seen a handful of the boys in classes today. All of them—except for Otis and Jai—shuffled into my room, heads down and shoulders slumped. It was a relief to see them sheepish and not bragging about their antics. Otis tried to apologize to me directly and Jai muttered something about ‘sorry’.

  I climbed into my car, just as my phone vibrated. One message.

  Russ: Mom’s at home. Losing it at Dad. You on your way?

  I sighed—since when did children have to sort out their parents’ lives? Pulling out of the lot, I belted out my best Katy Perry impression and tried to think of nothing but fireworks and the Fourth of July.

  ~

  Mom’s screams perforated the house. “WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU DONE TO MY CLOTHES, FRANK?”

  Male laughter. Dad was actually laughing at her. I had to hand it to him—he was brave. “What’s a few outfits, dear? When you’re ruining lives?”

  It was a little bit creepy how calm he sounded.

  “That is my best Karen Kane collection,” she spat out. “And you decided to take the scissors to it? SCISSORS, FRANK? WHAT IN THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?”

  “WRONG WITH ME, CINDY? YOU’RE THE ONE FUCKING MY OLDEST FRIEND.”

  I winced and heard Mom gasp. She was rarely rendered speechless, but Dad was doing a great job.

  “They’ve been at it a while.” Russ joined me on the porch bench—I still hadn’t made it into the house.

  “What a mess. Dad’s lost it.”

  He slung his arm around my shoulder and pulled me into him. “It’ll be okay, sis. Once she’s gone, hopefully things will calm down.”

  “We’ve got to sell the house, Russ. Our home.” I wiped the single tear from the corner of my eye. I was so sick of crying.

  “Fresh start. It’s the best thing.”

  I looked up at
my younger brother and a goofy grin broke out over his face. “I know I’m not around much. But you can always call me. Anytime, sis, anytime.”

  We sat for a few more minutes, waiting for the screaming match to end. Mom was storming down the staircase clinging to the shredded designer suits when we headed inside. Russ had to stifle his laughs, and she glared in his direction. “Russ, a hand, please?”

  He shrugged, leaning casually against the stair rails. “I think you can handle this one, Mom.”

  They were engaged in some kind of stare off. Russ had never stood up to Mom before. He'd always kept the peace with her.

  “You're as bad as her,” she spat out, jabbing a finger in my direction. “All I've done for you both.”

  I sat stunned. The woman was clearly deluded. We watched her carry down three more bundles of outfits to her car before she slammed the door shut and sped out of the driveway.

  “Well, I don’t think we'll be seeing her anytime soon. Come give your old man a hug.” Dad outstretched his arms and we both walked into them.

  ~

  Most teachers counted down the days to the school holidays, but I couldn't think of anything worse. A whole week to sit at home and stew on all the things wrong with my life. Just perfect.

  Deacon texted twice to try to convince me to go out, and Mae called twice about setting me up with Joseph or Joshua or whatever in the hell his name was. I didn't have the energy to think about dating. All I could think about was the blond-haired, blue-eyed guy who had kissed me and then wanted nothing to do with me.

  I still knew nothing about Keefer. But I thought I'd felt it when he kissed me. Thought I’d felt the spark. My phone vibrated, ripping me from my delusions.

  “Hey, Mae. How's your break?”

  “Phil's home... We've hardly come up for air. I need to get away for a bit. Meet me later?”