by Tim Mettey
The darkness that haunted my dreams was absent when I got home, allowing me a full night of rest, which was a luxury that I welcomed after the long day. The extra rest made me feel full of energy. I was out the door before Cora made it down the stairs to start making coffee. I got into the truck and headed to Winsor High School. I wanted to get there early so I could go see Coach Miller about helping with football. This would also give me a chance to talk to Riley by himself without Genevieve. The clock in the truck read 6:15 a.m.
Pulling into the parking lot was different. I used to feel uncomfortable, almost scared of what was waiting for me inside. But now the school felt like home, a safe place. That’s the feeling I used to get being with Cora, but now that feeling was gone because of our new neighbors. I was glad to have a place that brought me some comfort again.
There were some cars in the parking lot, but not many. The team still had about an hour before they had to arrive. I walked in the main entrance of the school. The ornate landscaping was not as incredible to me now. I guess I, too, had grown used to all of the roses and statues. It was sad not to appreciate such beauty anymore.
I almost fell over in shock when I went in. The once normal, plain brick and metal interior had been transformed into something that matched the outside. I couldn’t believe it. The sterile interior now looked like a luxury four-star hotel. There were marble floors everywhere, which replaced the old orange carpet. The walls were covered in tapestries and plaques of all our school’s achievements. Different colors were mixed on the walls, as if Michelangelo or Leonardo da Vinci had painted them. I didn’t even recognize the office area where the secretary sat last year. It now resembled an upscale coffee bar or a posh trendy spa. Everything was modern, new and sleek. I walked down the hall in complete shock. What had happened to my safe place?
“Well, if it isn’t the man of the hour.” That whiny, high-pitched tone made me want to run and hide; it was my counselor, Joy Lemmins. She was standing in the doorway of the guidance office. The exterior wall was now etched glass with a large world map and big letters that spelled out “Guidance Office.” It was quite impressive.
“So what do you think of the school’s new look? Because I loooove it,” she said. I didn’t know how to respond.
“I think I liked it the way it was before. Wait a minute, what do you mean the man of the hour?”
“You are the reason we got this new look.” She pointed to a metal plaque that was on the far wall opposite the guidance office. It was the size of a large movie poster. I walked over to read it and she followed.
The plaque simply read “In Honor of Nicholas Keller, Who Continues to Sacrifice Everything for Others.”
I turned around. “Who did this?” I demanded, with the fire in my stomach coming to life.
“Don’t get angry. You need to chill,” she said.
“What did you just say to me?” I regretted my harsh tone before I finished asking. Joy Lemmins was odd and bizarre at times, but she was still my counselor. “Ms. Lemmins, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that to you. I’m just so angry about all of this,” I said, looking around.
“Nicholas, I don’t know why you are so angry. This was done to honor you, not to make you upset.”
“But I didn’t ask for it, did I?” I shot back, still on edge.
She pulled her large red-rimmed glasses down to the tip of her nose, peered over them and said, “Nicholas, there are a lot of things in life that we don’t ask for. We just have to be grateful for the good ones, because there are far more bad ones.”
I couldn’t believe that Joy Lemmins actually just made a good point. As much as I hated this being done in my honor, it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. I began to relax.
“I’m glad to see that you now understand that this was done out of kindness, sweetie.”
“Who did this?” I asked in a calmer voice.
“That is a mystery, isn’t it? The money came in right after the unfortunate incident last spring.” She whispered, “You know, when the car accidentally fell into the water at the quarry party?”
I don’t think I would say it was an “unfortunate incident” when Elle and Oliver almost died. She was so odd, and to think that just a second ago I was giving her credit for making a good point.
“Well anyway, I think it was Mr. David Rails. He is loaded. I’m sure he was grateful to you for saving his son. And also for having your family friend, Doctor Hotness himself, take care of Oliver until he got better.”
“What did you call Chase?” I wasn’t sure if I had heard her correctly.
Joy Lemmins’ pale, white face turned a light shade of pink. She turned and walked back to the guidance office, her big, round, red earrings bouncing with each step as she retreated. She wasn’t watching where she was going and walked into one of the desks. It sent her stumbling into the wall. After a whole year of being around her, I would have thought I’d be used to her antics by now.
I had to get to the locker room. I couldn’t focus on the school’s changes. I was here for a purpose. I walked into the varsity locker room, bypassing the lockers, and knocked on Coach Miller’s door.
“Come in.”
I opened the door. Coach Miller was sitting at his desk, holding a clipboard and studying it. He was probably looking over plays for this upcoming season. His face lit up with a big smile when he saw me standing in front of him.
“Nicholas, it’s good to see you. How are you doing?”
“Fine,” I said.
“So what brings you down here to see me?”
“I’ve thought it over. I will help out this year, if you would still like me to.”
“Of course I do.” He stood up, extending his hand for me to shake. I took it. “You are now my assistant. We knew this would be a good fit for you.” He let go of my hand.
“We?” I asked, not knowing who else could make this decision besides him.
“My new assistant varsity coach, Riley Moore, also agreed you would be a perfect fit. You’ll be on the sidelines with us during the games, and you’ll talk to Coach Moore about anything you think we need to do on varsity. You were seeing things that no one else saw last year, so it’s important to have those eyes. We need to have our most valuable player still part of the action.”
Coach Miller’s comment made me swell with a little pride. My dad would have been proud to hear that his son was the most valuable player.
“Go on out there with the guys. We will start the team meeting in a half hour.”
I walked out of the office and the first person I saw was Eric. In a loud voice, he shouted like an announcer at a boxing match, “Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention? The first sophomore to ever play on varsity is now the youngest varsity assistant coach in Winsor history! Give it up for my best friend, Mr., I mean, Coach Nicholas Keller!”
The guys who were already there erupted into a loud roar. It was immediately silenced like a switch was turned off. Coach Miller had walked out.
“If this is how you’re going to act, maybe you guys should go back down to JV. Their locker room is down the hall.”
Nobody said a word.
“Couldn’t let him get away with that, could I?” Coach Miller whispered to me. “And whatever you do, don’t smile. You’re a coach now.”
It took everything in me not to laugh. Coach Miller walked back into the office and shut the door. Eric walked over to his locker. I followed him.
“Way to go, Eric. I don’t think that stuff will fly up here on varsity.” I hit him. A couple of the guys around me laughed.
“Did you guys see that? A coach just hit me. I am going to sue this place for everything it’s got.”
“Very funny,” I said.
“But seriously, Nicholas, could you please tell whoever gave the money to fix up this dump to throw some of that dough to your best buddy? I need a baby-blue paint job on my car, to match my eyes.” He blinked repeatedly.
I ignored him.
I hadn’t
really noticed before, but Eric had grown a lot since last year. He was now an inch or two taller than me. His long brown hair had been cut down to almost a shaved look. But his tan was still there. I had no idea how he kept it all year. It wouldn’t surprise me if he had a tanning bed in his room.
“So how’s football been?” I asked.
“It’s hot out there,” Matt said, sitting a couple of lockers down. He looked like he had grown a foot and put on a hundred pounds. I couldn’t get over how much he had grown—he was massive before. He could go play for any college right now. “Luckily, Coach Miller has some of the practices in the gym when it gets over 100 degrees,” Matt finished.
“Matt, you’re so right. It has been brutal, but it’s been well worth it,” Eric said.
“Eric, what has gotten into you? I thought this was all for your dad?” I said to him, and Matt answered for him.
“I think it has to do with a certain new cheerleader, and also he’s the varsity starting quarterback.”
For the first time Eric didn’t have anything to say. He just grinned.
“I thought you were going out with Livi?” I asked.
“I am. She’s the new cheerleader,” Eric answered.
“Keller, what are you doing on that side of the locker room? The defense is over here.”
I knew that voice. I turned around and Chad was standing in the middle of the locker room, like there was an invisible wall preventing him from crossing over.
“Come over here, I want to show you something. But I’m warning you—don’t get mad. I know you don’t like this kind of stuff, but we decided it was fitting.” I followed him, not sure what I was about to see.
He stopped and pointed toward my old locker. It had Plexiglas over it. When I got closer to it, I could see that it was exactly how I had left it last year, with my framed jersey and all of my equipment untouched inside, frozen in time.
“What’s this all about?” I asked. A couple of the defensive players who were on varsity last year huddled around us.
“Well, we wanted to honor your commitment to the team, so we left your locker as is, sealed.” He tapped it with his hand, making a hollow thud.
“I’m honored, but it looks like I died or something.” They all laughed.
“I guess it does.” He laughed again. “We have decided to start a new tradition here at Winsor. The defense will vote at the end of the year on a graduating senior defensive player’s locker to cover and seal for one year as a reminder of the commitment he made to the team. So we decided it should start with you. Even though you weren’t a senior, it just seemed fitting. We all voted and it was unanimous.”
I felt a little bit guilty because I didn’t deserve it. But like Joy Lemmins said, I should focus on the good not the bad, so I did.
“Thanks, guys, it’s awesome.”
I saw Riley for a brief moment later during practice. I mouthed the words, “We need to talk.”
He held up eight fingers and mouthed back, “My house.”
After practice, I stayed with the coaches in the coach’s office while they went over the next couple of days of practice. The meetings were exactly how I thought they would be. Coach Miller talked and everyone listened, just like when he met with the team. Coach Miller got out tapes of the next opponent. Before it started, he excused me to leave, and he told me that I didn’t have to come to every practice until school started, which was a relief. I was happy to get out of there. I liked the idea of helping, but watching film of the next opponent sounded painful.
Most of the parking lot was now empty except for a truck with a flat tire jacked up just down from mine. It was the exact make and model of our truck, but a couple of years newer. There was someone sitting next to it. I backed out of my spot and pulled up to see if everything was okay. I recognized the player from football practice.
“Are you all right?” I asked through the rolled down passenger-side window. He got to his feet quickly.
“I’m okay. My dad must have used the spare, because it’s not in the back, so I’m waiting for the tow truck.”
“Well you are in luck,” I said. “I have a spare that will fit your truck.”
He looked at my truck and laughed, realizing that we had identical vehicles.
I got the spare out and rolled it over to his truck.
“Can I help?” he offered.
I turned to find him right behind me. He was a good head taller than me. He looked like he could hang with any of the bigger guys on the team.
“No, I got it.”
He smiled. “My name is Bryce, Bryce Adams.” He stuttered a bit and offered his hand. I leaned the tire against my knee and took his hand.
“I’m Nicholas Keller.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Nicholas.” He brushed his jet black hair out of his eyes. In doing so he left a large streak of grease across his forehead. He looked ridiculous.
“Bryce, you’ve got some grease on your face.” I motioned to my head, showing him about where it was.
“Great, what else can happen?”
He walked over to his truck. Using the reflection in his back window, he started to rub the grease off with very little luck.
“Wow, new kid at school and already making a fool out of myself,” he mumbled, still trying to get the grease off his face.
A new student that wasn’t me; I liked the way that sounded.
“Don’t worry about it. I was new last year. I’ll keep this between you and me.”
He looked relieved. I wished that when I got here, or to any of the other schools I had attended, I could have had someone make me feel at ease about being new.
“So, Bryce, where are you from?” I asked while I was putting on the spare.
He paused for a second. I couldn’t believe I had asked him that question. I dreaded being asked that when I moved. How quickly I forgot.
“I was born in Arcanum, Ohio, but my dad’s in the military so we move from town to town about every two or three years. Hopefully this is my last stop, because starting over alone is tough.”
“Alone?”
“Yeah, my dad is never home. He’s traveling to the base in St. Louis. He moves me close to whatever base he gets reassigned to, which sucks. I wish he had left me back in Ohio. I hate moving.” I had to agree with him on that. I hated moving more than anything.
“So where’s your mom?” I asked.
Bryce’s eyes never met mine when he answered. “She died giving birth to me.”
I couldn’t believe I had asked another question. What was wrong with me? Less than a year ago, all of these types of questions were asked of me and I hated it. And to ask about his mom, who was dead—I should have known better.
“Bryce, I’m sorry.” I shook my head in disgust with myself.
“Don’t worry,” he said, smiling.
“So what grade are you in?” I thought that was a safer question.
“Senior, and I just made the varsity football team. I was pretty shocked I made it, because during the first week of tryouts I wasn’t part of any of the drills. And they made us wear these disgusting white jerseys that looked older than my dad. Coach Stenger had us run along the sideline for a solid week, never practicing once. I thought for sure I was going to get cut.”
“Did you have to wear equipment that was too big for you?”
He laughed. “No, the stuff they gave me was too small. Imagine me wearing that. I could barely move and the helmet felt like it was cutting off the blood to my brain. I couldn’t tell if it was the heat or the helmet that made me dizzy. How did you know about the equipment?” he asked, still laughing.
“I was in your spot last year.”
“Wait a minute, you’re the Nicholas Keller?” He stood there with his mouth open. “The whole team talks about you—about how you were the main reason they won state last year, and how you saved all of those people during the 10-10 Earthquake, which was awesome, and then you saved Elle Canan and Oliver Rails from dro
wning. You’re a hero.”
I didn’t know what to say. Now I was the one who felt uncomfortable.
“Nicholas, I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you by talking about that stuff.”
I was being silly. I just got done asking him about his dead mother and now I was upset over things that everyone knew about me.
“Don’t worry about it, Bryce. I just don’t think I’m a hero. No different than anyone else.”
I figured I should change the subject, and I knew the perfect subject. “So, what do you think of Eric?”
“He’s pretty full of himself, but hilarious.”
At least Eric was still making the same impression on others as he did on me.
“So what position do you play?” I asked.
“Wide receiver.” He looked at his watch. “Nicholas, it’s good to meet you and thanks for the tire, but I have to go. I’m late. I have to meet the movers. They are bringing the rest of my stuff. I’ll make sure to get the spare back to you. Also, one more thing, could you forget about all the bad stuff I said about tryouts? You’re a coach now and I don’t want anything to hurt my chances to start.”
“Don’t worry about it. It will be our secret.” I smiled.
“Thanks, Nicholas. See you in school.”