Ambushed

by Jill Williamson

  What? “I don’t remember that.”

  Barrios consulted his papers. “Um . . . Does connecting to a source of light sound familiar?”

  My stomach turned. “Wait. Tell me exactly what that’s about. Where did you hear that phrase?”

  Barrios leaned back in his chair and chuckled. “I’m asking the questions here, pal.”

  “No, please. That’s . . . uh . . . It’s from a movie I saw. The Jolt movie. Jolt IV. They said that in the movie.”

  “I knew I shouldn’t have let you seen that film,” Grandma said.

  “No, you don’t understand, Grandma. Something is bad about that movie. And it might involve the Russian mob.”

  “Okay, I think we’re done here,” Barrios said. “Seems he’s still higher than I thought.”

  “I’m not high. I need to talk to Kimball. Or Mr. S.”

  “I’ll be in touch if I have any more questions,” Barrios said.

  “Thank you, officer.” Grandma stood and grabbed her purse.

  “But I need to talk to them. Please. It’s important.”

  “You’ll see Mr. S soon enough,” Grandma said. “I don’t need to wait for the judge to tell me to put you in counseling.”

  What? “Grandma, come on, I don’t need counseling.”

  But I knew there was no convincing the woman.

  I was taken back to my cell for a few hours until my detention hearing, in which the public defender entered a plea denying the charges against me. My pre-trial hearing was scheduled for March 12, and I was released into Grandma Alice’s custody.

  I couldn’t go to school. Mr. McKaffey had called Grandma while I was in jail. I was suspended for ten days. And there’d be a hearing as to whether or not they’d let me come back or expel me. I couldn’t even go to the state playoff games.

  And then there was that article in the Pilot Point Bulletin by my BFF Sue Adams, which was totally unfair. I was the only one named. Singled out. Just because I was trying to play D-I basketball. Just because she was obsessed with chronicling my every move.

  I really hated that woman right now.

  Grandma took My Precious II and my MacBook, so it wasn’t until church on Sunday the following week that I found out what had happened to everyone else. Gabe and Isabel were onstage warming up with the worship band, but Lukas and Arianna filled me in.

  “They arrested Trella and Jasmine and five of you basketball players,” Arianna said. “You, Kip, Mike, Alex, Chaz. All deservedly humbled.”

  I ignored her snark. “What about Desh?”

  “He got away,” Lukas said. “Ran for it.”

  “Desh outran a cop?”

  “That’s what Jonathan was saying,” Lukas said.

  Who knew Desh could move that fast? Wish I’d have been coherent enough to witness it.

  “Kip didn’t get suspended, though,” Lukas said.

  “What?” How could that be?

  “He’d better get suspended, or I’ll file a protest with the school board,” Arianna said.

  “He’s denying the drugs were his,” Lukas said. “And he hadn’t taken any.”

  Unbelievable. “Are you kidding me? He put them in the brownies!”

  “It’s his word against Trella’s,” Lukas said. “Kip said Trella must have snuck them in as a joke. And Trella said Kip wanted to reenact a scene from Jolt IV.”

  “It was a Jolt Revolt party, after all,” I mumbled. “I can’t believe he’d let Trella take the blame.”

  “Well, the police are having a hard time deciding who gets the possession charge because neither of them ate any brownies,” Arianna said. “More of you corroborated the reenactment of the horror film scene, which blamed Kip, but Trella has gotten in trouble for cooking pot brownies before.”

  “She has?”

  “Yeah, and there’s one more thing. Something I heard my dad say they found on Kip’s cell phone.”

  “Pictures of him and Brittany Holmes?” Lukas asked.

  “Better,” Arianna said. “They found—”

  “You know, Arianna,” I said. “If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you were gossiping.”

  Her cheeks turned pink. “Well, if you don’t want to know what happened . . .”

  But I did. So I grinned at her and said, “By all means, please continue.”

  “They found texts between Kip and Irving MacCormack. He’s the director of the Jolt films. Spencer, according to those texts, MacCormack supplied Kip with the drugs.”

  Of course he had.

  ● ● ●

  The next few weeks, I lived in my room and did nothing but physical therapy. Except one morning when Grandma drove me over to Gabe’s house so I could have my first counseling session with Mr. S.

  Because I was a druggie and all.

  Whee.

  Gabe and his sisters were in school, and Kerri was at work. So it was just me and Mr. S, hanging in his living room.

  “You look well, Spencer.” Mr. S said. “What would you like to talk about?”

  “Did you get my letter?” Since I’d been under house arrest and Grandma had confiscated my MacBook, I’d snail-mailed Mr. S my report on the Jolt movies. I’d even added the part about what Kip tried to do at his party.

  “I did. I felt the report had merit and forwarded it to headquarters.”

  Which was a fancy way of saying, “Thanks for your trouble, we’ll take it from here.”

  I wanted to ask a dozen more questions. But I hadn’t shared the part about MacCormack claiming to be my father. And I wasn’t ready to. I didn’t know why. I was thinking I’d lay low until I figured out the truth about him.

  “What else do you want to talk about, Spencer?”

  “I don’t know. Nothing. Grandma said I had to come. I came. Don’t you have a list of topics or something?”

  “I want to hear what’s on your mind.”

  I took a deep breath. I had no intention of taking this seriously, but the stuff on my mind was serious. “Okay, fine. I want to know why all this bad stuff keeps happening. Why me? I’m a decent guy. Until Kip tricked me, I hadn’t taken drugs since middle school. I didn’t drink anything at that party. And I’m still a virgin. So why doesn’t God drag Kip’s life into the center ring and start taking swings at Kip’s plans?”

  “You’re a better person than Kip. Is that what you think?” Mr. S asked.

  “I know I’m a better person than Kip.”

  “Perhaps God knows that if he dragged Kip’s life into the center ring, as you put it, Kip would be destroyed. Perhaps Kip isn’t strong enough to take it. And perhaps God knows that you are a man he can use to do some good in this world. Not Kip. But you. If God is trying to get your attention, it’s for a good reason.”

  “I don’t want God’s attention. I never asked for it. I just want to play basketball.”

  “Spencer, you don’t understand because you’re still trying to do everything in your own power. You’re strong. But no one is that strong. You’ve got to give your life to God. Trust him to lead you.”

  He meant, say the prayer. Always with the prayer with these church people. “Fine. I’ll say your stupid prayer. And when nothing changes, you can tell me what to do next.”

  “It’s not a magic spell, Spencer,” Mr. S said. “It’s a conversation. It’s asking God to be part of your life. And it doesn’t end there. It’s hard work. Sometimes it sucks.”

  I frowned. Had Mr. S really just used the word “sucks”?

  “But you’ll never be alone again. And you can always ask him for help.”

  “I ask him for help already. I don’t get help.”

  “So you’re asking the NBA coach to put you in the game before signing the contract to play?” Mr. S asked.

  That stopped me. Is that really what I was doing?

  “I want you to think about that, Spencer. And when you come back next week, I want to hear what you discovered.”

  Uh, oh-kay.

  “Why don’t we talk about wh
at happened two Saturdays ago,” Mr. S said.

  So I told him what I remembered. And when I started to tell him what I’d pieced together, he stopped me.

  “Let’s not speculate just yet. Go back a bit. You said you didn’t want to go to the party. Why did you?”

  “Because I said I would months ago. It was a special promotional party for the Jolt movies. Kip earned points or something. And even though I was ticked at him, I figured it was better than sitting home for the third day in a row, working my knee.”

  “Why were you angry with Kip?”

  I wasn’t about to tell him about Kip and Brittany. “He cheated on his girlfriend. I thought he should have broken up with her.”

  “But he didn’t?”

  “No. He was trying to have two girlfriends. I think.”

  “And you disapproved?”

  “Wouldn’t you?”

  “I sense you’re still angry with him.”

  “Yes, I’m angry! This is all his fault.” And MacCormack’s. My idiot “father.”

  “You mean the drugs.”

  “He risked the whole team. He risked our chance at State. I could go to jail because of him. Even if I do get my knee in shape, what college is going to want a druggie with a record? No college. And he blamed Trella for it all. He thinks he can do whatever he wants.”

  “So, you’re judging him for his sin.”

  “Well, somebody should.”

  “That’s not your place, Spencer. The Bible says God is the only judge.”

  “Well, what’s taking him so long?”

  Mr. S bit back a smile, which ticked me off. Here I was being honest, like he wanted, and he was laughing at me?

  “Did you get Mary’s text?” Mr. S asked.

  I gritted my teeth. “I did. And I was trying to leave when the brownies were served.” I so wish I would have left.

  “Why didn’t you?” Mr. S asked.

  “I couldn’t get to my crutches. I asked Jasmine to get them for me several times.”

  “You couldn’t move without them?”

  “I probably could have hopped to the door. And I thought about calling Kimball to help me get out.”

  “Yet you didn’t.”

  “I really thought Jasmine was going to bring them to me.”

  “It seems to me like you’re blaming others for your choices.”

  Was I?

  “Remember what Gabe said about responsibility?” Mr. S asked.

  Gabe. Like I could forget that polished little prude dude. “A man is responsible for his choices.”

  “So take responsibility.”

  Fine. I would.

  REPORT NUMBER: 12

  REPORT TITLE: I Take Responsibility for My Choices

  SUBMITTED BY: Agent-in-Training Spencer Garmond

  LOCATION: Grandma Alice’s House, Pilot Point, California

  DATE AND TIME: Monday, March 12, 8:14 a.m.

  MY “TAKING RESPONSIBILITY” STARTED with apologizing to my grandma.

  “I was wrong to lie to you,” I said one morning over a bowl of cereal. “I shouldn’t have gone to Kip’s house knowing he was having a party. And I should have left when I got Mary’s text.”

  “You should have left the moment you saw alcohol.”

  But Kip’s dad drank all the time when I was over there. Not the point. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m trying to take responsibility for my actions.”

  “I appreciate that. But your friendship with Kip is over for a while. You need some time apart. He’s a bad influence.”

  Couldn’t argue there. “Fine.” I didn’t really want to see Kip, anyway. But it wasn’t like I wouldn’t see him at school when I went back.

  The question was: Was I going back?

  ● ● ●

  Seven days into my suspension, Grandma got a letter from the school board informing her that an expulsion hearing had been scheduled for March 26, the Monday after the state basketball championship game.

  Oh, come on!

  How about they expel the guy who drugged us all so he could play Grand Master Daysman?

  Chaz hadn’t eaten any brownies, but he’d been suspended for three days for having alcohol in his system. So he was already playing again. As was Usain Bolt—I mean, Desh. But Mike and Alex had been expelled like me.

  I’d been keeping tabs on the games online. I didn’t have the guts to contact Coach. So far the guys were still in it. Chaz had fouled out in the last game, though—the regional semi-final. He was the only point guard on the team now. Kip could play the position long enough to give Chaz a breather, but Chaz was it. I texted him and told him awesome job and to be more careful next time.

  Besides listening to the occasional playoff game online, now that I was out of school for even longer, I had nothing to do but physical therapy, physical therapy, and, well, more physical therapy.

  Oh, yeah. And a pre-trial hearing.

  But that went better than expected. I was certain that with my past record, the judge wouldn’t believe me. But my defender had gathered statements from the partygoers. No one knew that anything had been put in the brownies. I was a victim of involuntary intoxication. As each statement was read aloud, I made a mental note to thank Jasmine for being so honest. She not only made it clear that I’d asked for my crutches repeatedly, she also admitted that Kip had asked her to stall me until I tried the brownies.

  With friends like Kip, who needed enemies?

  But those statement were good enough for the judge, who dismissed the charges against me.

  I was free to go.

  ● ● ●

  The following Thursday afternoon, the day after the guys had won the Regional Finals, Coach Van Buren showed up on Grandma's doorstep with a manila folder in his hand. Grandma let him in.

  “Hey,” I said. “What’s up?”

  He greeted me, then turned to Grandma. “Mrs. Garmond, certain members of the school board have banded together to make an example of Spencer. But I don't think he deserves such an honor. So, I've found a loophole.”

  “What kind of loophole?” she asked.

  “They've been on me all year to hire a shooting coach. I've finally found the right guy. Spencer would even get paid.”

  Me? “Are you serious?”

  He slapped down his folder onto the coffee table. “Just need you to sign this W-2.”

  “No,” Grandma said. “I'll not see him rewarded for this.”

  I opened my mouth to protest, but Coach beat me to it.

  “Mrs. Garmond, normally I'd agree with you a hundred percent. But I was told Spencer had no alcohol in his system. Everyone else did. It's against the law to slip someone a Mickey, and that's essentially what happened at that party. Kip is the one who should be made an example of in this, but since there's no proof, the school board is going after the other boys. I'll be testifying on Spencer’s behalf at the school board hearing. And you should know that I'm very proud of this young man. He has come a long way since I've known him.”

  “I appreciate that, Mr. Van Buren, but I'll have to think it over.”

  “Thank you, ma’am. Just don’t think too long.”

  ● ● ●

  The second part of my taking responsibility was to write an apology letter to my high school, for embarrassing them with scandal. While I was at it, I also recorded one for my YouTube channel. No sense trying to pretend this hadn’t happened.

  The night before the state championship final, Grandma came into my room.

  “I’m going to let you go to the game with your team.”

  I tried to act like I didn’t care. “Thank you.”

  “You’re still grounded.”

  “Okay.”

  “There and back. I called your coach to make sure that you don’t leave his sight.”

  “That’s fair.” And it was.

  “I don’t want you to lie to me anymore.”

  It was weird that she’d clamped onto lying as my biggest sin, but I guess it was on
e of the Ten Commandments and all.

  “I’m sorry,” I said again.

  “You’re going to have to earn my trust back.”

  “I know.” She didn’t say anything else, so I added, “Thank you, Grandma.”

  “I love you, Spencer, you know that right?”

  “Yeah.” I loved her too.

  She kissed the top of my head and left, closing my door behind her.

  ● ● ●

  Since church was the only place I saw anyone I knew, that’s where Arianna, Gabe, and Lukas had been filling me in on what was going on at school. The cops had formally pressed charges against Kip for drugging everyone, but his dad hired a lawyer and made a big stink. So until Kip’s pre-trial hearing—which was after the state game—the school had decided to give Kip the benefit of the doubt, which I guess meant that they thought all of us were lying about what happened.

  So when I showed up at the school to get on the bus to Sacramento, Kip was there. And no one was talking to him.

  It was all really weird. Like we were going to a funeral instead of a state championship basketball game. Parents and classmates had shown up to cheer us off, but it still felt . . . hopeless, I guess.

  Not the best attitude to have right before a game like this.

  I got on the bus and sat in the middle. Chaz sat in the seat behind mine. Kip got on next and paused as he passed my seat.

  “Why are you even here?” he asked.

  “I’m a coach.”

  “You’re not my coach.”

  “I told you to wait until after state to have your dumb party.”

  “So this is my fault?”

  “Duh,” Chaz said.

  “You drugged people, Kip,” I said. “That’s a felony. And you’re going to get caught.”

  “You should be thanking me. If it wasn’t for my dad, I wouldn’t be here now.”

  “I don’t care if you’re here now,” I said. “I’d happily trade you for Mike and Alex.” But Mike and Alex were still expelled like me for eating the brownies, and since they’d been drinking at the party, Coach hadn’t “hired” them to come along.