by S. E. Akers
“Don’t be surprised if I mistake your face for the basketball hoop next period,” I called out as I lagged behind her.
As I strolled across campus towards the gym, I had to admit I felt a little more at ease. I just hoped everything at the mine stayed the same, no matter who ended up buying it. Daddy was the best foreman there. He couldn’t lose his job or even get demoted. He loved his shift and his crew. Surely Samuel’s job would be safe, too.
Crap…Now I’m even more worried than before!
I popped into the girls’ locker room to change. Kara Leighton and Rebecca Caldwell were in there whining about playing basketball, as usual. They felt their physical education would be better served by practicing their cheerleading moves during class. Most of the time Coach Hayes let them. Probably so he could ogle them while they worked on their high-kicks and shook their asses.
“Shiloh, do you really feel like playing basketball today?” Rebecca questioned as she combed her wavy brown hair back into a ponytail.
“I don’t mind,” I answered as I tightened my shoelaces.
“Come on, Shi,” Kara coaxed in a sticky-sweet voice. “Technically we aren’t getting that much aerobic activity from standing around waiting to shoot a stupid orange ball through a hoop.” Kara flashed me a smile, attempting to charm me into agreeing with her.
I shook my head and gave my locker a firm slam. I wasn’t in the mood to be manipulated by our school’s most deceptively demanding diva and one of her sappy-sweet requests. She unfailingly got away with murder within the confines of our school and attempted every chance she got at the Sterling Drive-In. Hell, I got suckered into cleaning up a huge mess Coach Hayes’ heathen son had made out in one of the bays that “she” was supposed to be covering just last night. Apparently he thought it was the perfect canvas for his “artwork”. Nothing like staying late because you have to hose spilt strawberry milkshakes off the parking lot and scrubbing greasy food from the menu boards when the other server splits early, faking “cramps”. And how the little monster got ketchup and mustard on the floodlights twenty-feet in the air was beyond me!
I bounced towards the door of the locker room. “That act won’t work on me, Kara. Save it for Coach Hayes.” I stopped short of exiting and looked back at her. “He’s the idiot with the penis,” I replied as I pointed in the direction of the gym and returned her sassy smirk.
Coach Hayes was tooting his little silver whistle as I emerged from the locker room, warning us that we had about a minute left to fall into line. He wasn’t one of my favorite teachers, not by a long shot, and I detested the way he was always bellowing out my last name “WALLACE” like a drill sergeant. Trust me, it let me know his feelings were mutual. No matter where we were, be it at school, at the Drive In, or anywhere around our small-town, Coach Hayes never failed when it came to being a royal prick or pushing my buttons. And he was vain too. Kind of like one of those guys who think they’re still the star athlete in high school that all the guys idolized and all the gals longed for in their dreams. Needless to say, the less-than-perfectly-fit high school coach was far from a spring chicken. I watched him while he eyed his MVP college football ring, rotating it back and forth so the diamonds could bask under the gymnasium lights. I didn’t know which sight was more nauseating: his ritualistic gloating routine or him struggling to adjust the waist of his pants over that bulging pot-belly of his. Tough choice.
Suddenly, a basketball hit my butt. I whirled around without delay. It was Katie.
“Shi, I’ve called over to you THREE TIMES already. Ugh! Are you still stressing about ‘it’?” Katie demanded.
“No,” I groaned. “I was just watching Coach Hayes. You’d think he’d won a daggone Super Bowl the way he’s always fiddling with that ring. I think I hate that thing almost as much as his whistle.”
“Yeah,” Katie giggled. “About that…He, umm, didn’t earn it.”
“What?” I half-gasped.
Katie leaned closer. “Dad made it for him a few years ago. And you know how old Ron is…He wanted to have the year engraved on it, as a surprise, and since Coach Hayes never mentioned it specifically, Dad contacted Salem College to get it. That’s when he found out that our ‘illustrious’ coach was kicked off the team during his Sophmore year…for steroid use.”
“That explains a lot,” I giggled over the blare of the coach’s — correction — the con artist’s whistle. MVP — My ass!
I rang out my ear. “I think I still hate that thing more,” I affirmed.
“I bet he blows it at Mrs. Hayes at home…to get her to um, perform,” Katie commented, twitching her brow.
I gagged. “That’s so sick…Now how am I supposed to get that mental image out of my head?”
“What can I say? It’ll take your mind off the mine,” Katie giggled. She pointed over to the right side of the gymnasium. “Hey, why are the mats down?” she questioned.
I was wondering that myself. “I don’t know, but I’m sure we’ll find out.”
Coach Hayes blew his noisy little peacekeeper one more time to summon the class. Everyone immediately gathered around in our usual half-circle formation.
“Zip it people and listen up!” Coach Hayes barked. “Guys, today we’re going to be wrestling on this side of the gym,” he said with an enthusiastic point toward the mats. Several of the girls let out a few sighs, expressing their discontent. “Don’t worry, ladies. You’ll be on the other side shootin’ hoops. You can’t participate with the fellas on this one.”
Coach Hayes blew his whistle again, which sparked another disturbing visual image, courteously implanted by my BFF. Trying to put a lid on my giggles was impossible. Katie knew exactly what I was snickering about, which prompted a few chuckles of her own.
Coach Hayes found no amusement in our behavior whatsoever. Straightaway, he blew the damn thing again. That made it even worse.
“Wallace! Stowell!” Coach Hayes growled. “What’s so funny that you two have to interrupt my class?”
We both lowered our heads, still trying to contain our laughter. “Nothing,” we sang in unison.
“WALLACE! Do you have a problem with the activities for today?” Coach Hayes charged, his voice reeking with disgust.
“No problem, Coach,” I insisted, “but it seems a little sexist,” I added brazenly, still miffed about the blind-eye he’d turned to his little monster’s creative antics last night. I thought a little provoking was in order.
“Guys won’t be wrestling girls in MY GYM! Guys are stronger, a fact of nature…and I’m not havin’ anyone runnin’ to the office sayin’, ‘this one grabbed me here’, or ‘that one grabbed me there’!”
“That’s not what I meant, Coach. Why can’t us girls…wrestle other girls? You know, there are female wrestlers,” I rebutted.
Several of the guys let out a few chuckles. “NO!” Coach Hayes snapped. “Yeah right! Female wrestling…It’s an embarrassment to the sport!” He gave his irritating silver whistle one long, commanding blow and then strutted off like he’d just one a flippin’ coin toss.
I stood there, arms crossed and eyes rolling at his chauvinistic remark. I should’ve hosed off more than just the parking lot last night!
“Guys, head on over to the mats and ladies, line up and start shootin’,” Coach Hayes yelled and directed me to the other side of the gym with a flippant wave. “If it’s not too much of an inconvenience?”
Humph…Touchy.
Gym served as a decent distraction. For the next forty minutes, Katie and I stood around in-between shots and watched the guys wrestle. Mike Riverside pinned every one of his matched opponents. Katie even commented on his impressive strength and dexterity. I told her that I’d overheard Chloe talking to Charlotte about how Mike loved to watch wrestling on TV. He had even taken her to a Strong-Man fighting competition in Beckley last week. Though I had to admit, I couldn’t resist fantasizing a little about getting on the mat with him myself — and kicking his butt! I still didn’t think he w
as right for Chloe, and I knew it was only a matter of time before she ended up getting hurt. Even though we didn’t see eye-to-eye on pretty much everything, I was still protective of her — especially from jerks like Mike Riverside.
Ty pinned all of his challengers as well. I bet he’d give Mike a good run for his money, I thought. I’d love to see that. I wouldn’t mind getting on the mat with him either…For different reasons, of course.
Coach Hayes gave his whistle one final blow, signaling for everyone to wrap it up and hit the locker rooms. I was changed and ready to head on over to my study hall just as the sixth period bell rang. Katie was our school’s yearbook editor, so she would be heading across campus to work on layouts.
“Shi, why don’t you come and hang out in Mr. Scott’s room with the Annual Staff?” Katie pleaded. “We can pick out really bad pictures of people we can’t stand and place them in the mock-ups.”
“As tempting as that sounds, I think I’m going to get a library pass and do some studying there,” I insisted.
“Don’t you mean googling?” Katie countered.
I smiled. She knew exactly what was on my agenda.
“It’s spelled X-c-a-v-a-r-e,” Katie hollered back as she ran out of the gym.
I whipped out a scrap piece of paper from my backpack and jotted it down in a flash. I was about to head off myself when I heard Coach Hayes bellow, “WALLACE! Wait right there!”
I crumpled the paper in my hand. What NOW? I pressed the tip of my sneaker onto the floor, and with a harsh “squeak”, whirled my unenthused body around. “Yes?” I posed.
“Say hello to Charlotte for me and thank her for all the hard work she’s put into the football boosters this year,” Coach Hayes remarked. “Yeah…Tell her it’s been a real treat working with her this season, and I hate it’s coming to an end,” he added with a strange twinkle in his eye and strolled out the door. His peculiar request didn’t bother me as much as the seedy smirk plastered on his face. Coach Hayes never “appreciated” anything that didn’t light up a scoreboard, and I really didn’t know how the heck to process that fishy look? But something about it sure reeked.
Still brooding, I strolled over to the side exit and started to push open the metal door. A strange muffled sound stopped me right in my tracks. A bit curious, I turned around to see exactly where the noise was coming from.
Oh, I found out soon enough. Two pairs of shoes were on the floor, sticking out from behind the stacked bleachers. I didn’t even have to take a guess at what they were doing (not from the “shushes” I heard) or whose feet were in them. Black Asics with white piping — Mike Riverside. White Nikes with brown and gold laces, the kind all the cheerleaders wore during sixth period when they practiced — Chloe. A part of me wanted to go over there and break it up, but the other realized she had to make her own choices. Even the poor ones.
Disgusted, I shook my head and threw open the door. My head was still down and shaking from side to side when I ran into someone’s shoulder.
“Are you tryin’ to knock me down, Shi?”
Shocked by the familiarity of the voice, I jerked my head up. Chloe.
“What are you doing…here?” Crap! I’d mistakenly assumed it was her feet in those cheerleader sneakers.
“Mom checked me out of school, so we can pick up my dress and find one for you. You’re still going…AREN’T YOU?” Chloe badgered.
“OH YEAH…I’m really looking forward to an evening with Mike,” I replied as I glanced back at the gym, struggling to suppress my anger.
“I—I was trying to catch Mike before I left. Have you seen him? Anywhere?” Chloe’s voice wasn’t the only thing shaky. She seemed downright frazzled.
My voice softened. “Is there anything wrong?” I asked sincerely. Chloe’s hazel eyes narrowed on the spot. She could tell I sensed something was up. Hastily, she attempted to compose herself with a flick her raven mane.
“Nothing’s wrong,” my littler sister snapped. “I just wanted to see him before I left. That’s all.”
Chloe wasn’t the least bit convincing. Who knows? Maybe she suspects something? I could lead her into the gym and confirm all of her insecure suspicions right now.
I pondered the ramifications. Con: She’d be devastated. Pro: I wouldn’t have to go to the dance. Con: Mom would be a nightmare to live with. But most of all — some-freaking-how — I would catch ALL the blame, and Chloe would never forgive me. Kill the messenger — definitely a “Con”.
“Is he in the gym? Did you see him in there?” Chloe asked anxiously.
“I didn’t see him,” I fibbed. Just his shoes, I fumed quietly, knowing a partial lie was still a lie.
“Well if you do, tell him that I was looking for him…You promise?” Chloe demanded and shored up her request with a swift point of her finger like she was ordering around a toddler.
“I promise. If I see him, I’ll give him a message — I mean, your message.” At least that was true. I’d planned on giving him an earful. My fist wanted to give him an eyeful as well. Even my knees had a few thoughts of their own.
“I’m off,” Chloe declared as she strutted towards the parking lot.
“Don’t you dare come home with something slutty!” I yelled out, still apprehensive about her so-called “taste” in fashion.
My little sister didn’t turn around. She simply waved her hand in the air to acknowledge my request. I watched as she hopped into Charlotte’s white Cadillac and drove out of sight. At least I don’t have to worry about taking Chloe home. I can leave for the meeting right after seventh period.
After I’d secured a pass from my study hall, I made my way back across the courtyard to the building that housed all the English and foreign languages classes, as well as our school library.
It was a little more crowded than usual, but fortunately there was one computer open in the back corner. I dug my Welch High School ID out of my backpack, and with one quick swipe I was logged in, ready to start surfing.
I typed in X-c-a-v-a-r-e E-n-t-e-r-p-r-i-s-e-s. That yielded more info than I could ever imagine. I discovered that the family business had been around for over 150 years. The current owner was a man named, Malachi Xcavare, but his son, Lazarus Xcavare, ran the company for him. Katie was right. They appeared to mine everything — graphite, lithium, gold, silver, gemstones — the list went on and on. I found an article claiming they had been searching for a coalmine to purchase for the past several months, but the spokesman stated they hadn’t found the “right match” for their company as of yet. Another article talked about how they stumbled upon a rare reserve of platinum near one of their gold mines out west.
Maybe this will be a good thing? I couldn’t find one bad write-up about them. They seem reputable…
Just then, an article popped up to my dismay. The headline caught my eye. It read:
SHAREHOLDERS REVOLT AS
XCAVARE STOPS EXCAVATING
It talked about how their shareholders were up in arms at the last stockholder’s meeting. From what I gathered, Xcavare Enterprises had been buying up mines and land for exploration, but they only unearthed a fraction of their resources before they closed them down or tried to sell them off.
Why would you pay millions of dollars for a mine that you would end up closing or selling when it still had reserves? That seems a like big waste of money. Not to mention how devastating it probably was for all the employees who lost their jobs.
Before I knew it, the bell signaling the end of sixth period rang. That tidbit of information didn’t make me feel any more relaxed. If anything, I was more worried than ever.
It was just one article. One. All the others were so positive. Maybe its writer had an agenda? That’s possible. The article was either truthful or a malicious hatchet job. I was afraid the answer to whichever one it was, would only be revealed with time.
I hurried across the courtyard and entered the Music and Arts building in record time. Our art teacher, Mrs. Mesure, was standing outside her
door, greeting each student as they entered.
“Good afternoon, Shiloh,” Mrs. Mesure beamed.
“I hope so,” I answered optimistically.
As I walked over to grab one of the smocks hanging by the sinks, I glanced up at the black and white clock on the wall. Just forty-five more minutes, I noted, still antsy.
Maybe art will clear my mind a bit? I’d always found this class to be a relaxing end to my school day.
“We’re going to be doing some painting today,” Mrs. Mesure announced. “I’m passing around some landscape photographs of local buildings and sceneries the junior class compiled during their field trip last week.” She began dispersing a thick stack of 11 x 14 photos. “You’re to reproduce them using watercolors to the best of your abilities.”
My easel was located in the back by the windows, so I felt fairly confident that all the good ones would be gone by the time they reached me. Within seconds, Jessica Fields handed me the last picture, which happened to be face down. I flipped it over.
Son-of-a-Bitch, I grumbled as I stared at the black and white photo. The Riverside Pocahontas Coalmine — Well that figures!
Chapter 3 — Meeting of the Minds
Finally, I huffed as the dismissal bell rang throughout the halls. I sprang from my seat like a prize thoroughbred out of the gates and maneuvered through a maze of students and faculty, making my way to the parking lot in record time.
I looked down at my watch as I hopped into my car. Two Thirty-Five. Plenty of time to make it to the mine before the meeting starts. Luckily, I zoomed out of the lot before the caravan of school buses departed.
As my car cruised through town, I couldn’t help but notice how quiet it was — almost deserted. Not that Welch ever came close to the hustle & bustle of a metropolitan city, but it was noticeably odd. All the shops and businesses appeared to be open (well, their lights were on), but no one was out and about. Even the local cops weren’t parked in the center of town like they usually were. Good thing, too. I was exceeding the city’s downtown 10 mph speed limit as I zipped down the narrow one-way street. Before I knew it, I was veering onto Highway 52, which led a path straight to the mine.