by Jillian Neal
He tried to be glad it was Monday. At least there was something he had to do today. Maybe the rhythmic tap of the nail gun would give variety to the endless abyss he’d constructed himself into when he was fourteen years old. He’d regretted his deal with Coach Chaney since the moment he’d agreed, but never more than he did now. He didn’t even care if people knew that trophy was a fake, that they would never have won without him, and that he had no business playing. Hope deserved better than a man that had allowed himself to be dragged into something so ridiculous and had gone along with it for the last 14 years.
Ryan had left four messages on his phone the night before. A large portion of the Montgomery’s storeroom roof had given into the damage from the storm last fall. They knew it needed to be replaced, but hoped to have their earnings from the season first. It had finally caved in the storm the night before, dumping water in the storeroom. Work on the hotel was put off another day so Montgomery’s could be repaired immediately.
Brock had reached for his phone a dozen times the night before. Desperate to check on Hope with every vicious lightening strike, but she didn’t need him. She was better off without him.
Scrubbing his hands over his stubbled face he hadn’t cared to shave, he choked over a deep breath of the salty air as he ascended the ladder. To pour vicious vinegar in the already gaping wound, the portion of roof that needed to be replaced set him in direct sight of Bandana Bookstore.
How could they have done this to him? That was precisely what Hope intended to find out when she marched herself right through the front doors of Wellsley High School. The thought that she was breaking numerous school rules about visitors attempted to bring her up short. “There are rules you should never ever break, obviously, but then there are the stupid ones that people made up to try to keep people in line when it’s none of their business.” Brock was once again right. She tried to locate fear in her body, but found herself lacking it altogether. She no longer cared. This had to be done, no matter what it cost her.
She received a few wary stares from students in the common area. The Resource Officer studied her briefly, but then seemed to recognize her.
“Skye Hendrix?”
“No, I’m Hope. Skye’s my sister, and I need to speak to Coach Chaney right now.”
“Coach is in his office, but you’re gonna have to check in at the office first. Get a principal’s visitor’s badge.”
“Yes, good, but I need to do this now. Can you get Principal Richmond for me?” She was certain she sounded completely deranged. Her eyes were spinning, and her head seemed to weigh more than the contents of a bowling bag.
“Uh, why don’t you come with me, Hope.” The officer took her arm.
“No!” She jerked it out of his grasp. “I have to see Coach Chaney. He has to know what he did.” With that, she turned and sped towards the gym. Someone had to pay for this. He needed to know what that ridiculous trophy cost Brock. She heard the officer speaking frantically into a walkie-talkie. She broke out into a sprint.
Brock lifted his head and glared at Paul. The earbuds were back in his ears, and he was installing the valley flashing wrong. That’s what had leaked in the first place. What the hell was he doing? Brock’s head rung with every nail that he drove into the shingles. His body felt more liquid than solid.
“I got it.” Coop slapped him on the back and went to bawl out Paul the inept.
Brock tried to be disturbed at the fact that he couldn’t seem to have actually felt Coop’s hand on his back. He couldn’t feel much of anything at all. A numbness was taking him over. His chest was hollow, empty. His heartbeat was no longer recognizable. It had become a disconcerting echo of his former life. All he recognized was pain.
Hope threw open the door to Coach Chaney’s office just off of the gym. She’d raced through a sophomore gym class to locate him, and was galled by the fact that the Wellsley High girls still had to wear white shorts to gym. What decade was it now anyway?
When her eyes landed on four uniforms, all number 7, all with Camden proudly displayed on the back, hung on the wall outside Coach Chaney’s office she felt sick.
“How could you?!” blared from her as soon as she’d slammed the door behind her.
“Hope?” Coach Chaney managed to roll his chair back far enough from his desk to dislodge his distended beer gut so he could stand. “Shouldn’t you be in class, dear? If you’re having a female episode, go to the nurse.”
“A female episode?” Hope huffed. “Seriously! I am not having any kind of episode, but you … you should be fired for what you did to Brock! And I graduated years ago!”
She watched realization set in his beady eyes. He gave a harsh swallow. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. What about Brock?”
“You know precisely what I’m talking about. You ruined his life all so he could win you that stupid trophy. But you never really cared about any of us did you, Coach? All you wanted was to win. You wanted your ridiculous name on that state championship, and that was all that mattered. You’re a teacher, but you traded that hallowed title in for nothing worth having. You let a student walk the halls of this school lost, and afraid, and unable to learn because you wouldn’t help him. You traded in Brock for a piece of cheap marble and some fool’s gold with your name engraved in it. You’ve ruined his life, and you don’t even care.”
“Ms. Hendrix, you need to calm down.” Principal Richmond arrived on the heels of the school resource officer and Vice Principal Singer. He still wore those ridiculous loafers that squeaked and alerted students to his arrival.
Vice Principal Singer looked concerned. Her hair had greyed, but her wary eyes still held the warmth Hope remembered. She was in a soft blue dress suit. Suspicion was etched on her face and the purse of her lips.
Hope turned her vicious glare on Principal Richmond. “Oh, yes, I’m sure you’d love that, because you were in on it, too. If I went to the papers, your career would be over. You understand that, don’t you? Putting a football trophy over a human being’s life doesn’t seem to show that you care about the students of Wellsley High, as you’re so famous for saying. You went along with it for him.” Her index finger landed two inches away from Coach Chaney’s bulbous nose.
Vice Principal Singer glanced from Hope to Principal Richmond. “Hope, dear, what are you saying exactly? Whose life are we discussing exactly? Tell me what happened.”
Hope tried to draw a steadying breath, but the air was filled with used football helmets and cleats that lined the shelves of Coach Chaney’s office. She shuddered in disgust.
“When Brock Camden’s family moved here, his father wanted him to play on the football and baseball teams. Brock was good, but his grades weren’t. He can’t read properly. I don’t know how that was never diagnosed when he was younger, but it wasn’t. His dad made a deal with Coach Chaney. The teachers would pass Brock no matter what he actually earned, and he got to play. They knew he could win them the championships. He was that good and barely fourteen years old. Principal Richmond went along with it. He fixed it with Superintendent Powers. Brock was just a kid, and you ruined his life.” She fixed her glare back on Principal Richmond.
“Is that true, Allen?” Vice Principal Singer sounded almost as disgusted as Hope felt.
He looked pained as he glanced nervously around the room, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes.
“Yeah, it’s true.” Coach Chaney sighed. “I didn’t think it was a big deal. Figured he’d pick up whatever he’d missed while he was in class. Kid wanted to play. I needed a receiver like that. He was the best I’d ever seen. Didn’t seem fair to me that he shouldn’t be able to do something he loved just because of his grades. ’Sides, he’s got a job now. He makes decent living. It’s not like it hurt him. He’s a hero in town.”
“Yes, he’s a hero in town for something he didn’t actually do. As fantastic an athlete as Brock Camden is and was, our job as teachers, coaches, and administrators is to prepare these students for life.
I can’t think of one single time in my adult life my ability to catch a football mattered at all, but an inability to read, that affects every second of every day of his life. You made a decision for him that he can’t undo. You put him in an impossible situation he had no hopes of getting himself out of. It’s fantastic he has a job that doesn’t require that he read often, although no doubt it would still come in rather handy, but is that even the job he wants?
“Does he find roofing fulfilling, or did you, in all of your infinite wisdom, Coach, doom him to a life of working a job because it’s something he can do, not necessarily something he wants to do? Did you decide that at fourteen years old his time was better spent catching footballs you tossed his way rather than sitting down with him and helping him, teaching him, or getting him the help he needed if you weren’t capable of such? Because that is what should have happened for Brock Camden. That is what you signed on to do at this school. Not bring home trophies.” Vice Principal Singer huffed. “I cannot believe any of you went along with this.”
Although Hope was pleased with the way this situation was going, something twisted uncomfortably in her stomach. She assumed the intermittent amounts of junk food she’d consumed without much else was the cause, but there was a steady increasing sense of dread needling up her spine and building pressure in her head. Something was wrong. Maybe. Is this what everyone kept trying to get her to feel? Was this the sense of the things around her that Molly had talked about? Was this part of owning her Gypsy heritage? She clutched her stomach. What was going on? She glanced around the office. Was something going to happen at the school? No, that wasn’t it. Oh, why hadn’t she asked Molly for more detail on how her feelings about everything actually felt? The room itself started to spin. Hope broke out in a cold sweat.
Brock raised his head just in time to note a red sportscar pulling into Bandana Books. He couldn’t see Hope’s car for some reason, but malice twisted up his spine and shot venom through his veins. He may not have been good enough for Hope Hendrix, but that little sailing prick Trent sure as hell wasn’t either. Leaping to his feet, Brock swayed on the steep pitch of the roof.
“What are you doing, man?” Coop’s voice was tunneled, shrouded in Brock’s rancor at life itself. He headed towards the ladder. He’d put Hope through enough. He wasn’t going to let Trent add to it.
His right foot hit the top rung of the ladder, and suddenly it gave a disconcerting lurch. He made it down one more rung when it shifted back and fell away from the roof. It hadn’t been tied down.
“Brock!” Coop’s bellowed shout flew just slower than the wind whipping in his ears. Brock grabbed for the eaves. His fingers licked at the metal, but they slipped. He was going down. Time seemed to slow in that moment, as if the inevitable conclusion was too heavy for it to bear. Hope’s emerald eyes stained with tears flashed like lightening in his mind. No. Please no! I need to live! I need to apologize to her! I’ll tell everyone the truth. Just please! I love her, he pled to the ether just moments before he heard his body meet the concrete and the metal ladder collapsed against his chest. Something snapped. The metal chinked and groaned. Abhorrent pain ricocheted throughout his body. The first thing he’d felt in days, and the last thing he was conscious of at all.
“Well, just what do you plan to do with this information you’ve discovered, Ms. Hendrix? Surely, you don’t mean to ruin Brock Camden’s name or his image over this?” Hope couldn’t make sense of Principal Richmond’s question.
“Brock.” Her brain locked on his name. Something was wrong … with Brock.
“I have to go.” She turned to race out of the office.
“Hope!”
Frantically, she turned back. She didn’t recognize the voice. Kevin Morgan, Julie’s husband and one of Brock’s friends was racing towards her.
“I have to go!” Hope pled frantically. Why did no one understand this?
“Okay, you sure you’re all right?”
“I don’t know.”
“Hey, listen, I overheard what you told Chaney and the administrators. Is that true? Brock really can’t read?”
“Yes, but please don’t ever tell anyone that.” Tears stung her eyes again. She should never have come here. It wasn’t going to make a difference at all. She couldn’t take down the staff without outing Brock, and she would never do that.
“I would never do something like that, Hope. Come on, it’s me. My wife is one of your best friends. I’m a coach here. It’s just I have this kid on the baseball team that I swear could hit anything. He’s amazing, and he’s only sixteen, but I think they made the same deal with him. I have to find out how often they’ve been doing this. It has to stop.”
“Yes, it does, but right now I have to go find Brock.” The shrill ring of her cell phone in her purse clawed at her heart. Her stomach plummeted rapidly to her feet when she saw Ryan McNamara’s name on the screen.
Ever-ready tears streamed down her face. “Hello?”
“Hope, it’s Ryan. Um … can you meet me up at Wilmington Hospital? Brock’s being airlifted there now. He fell off a ladder. He came to for a second before they loaded him up. He kept begging for you. Look, I’m not sure what happened between you two, but he needs you there.”
“Oh, my God! Okay, I’m on my way. Tell him I’m on my way.”
“I will. I promise.”
“Hope? What’s wrong? Who was that?” It took Hope several endless seconds to realize that Kevin was holding her up.
“Brock’s being airlifted to the hospital. He’s hurt. I have to go!” Her plea took wing from her fractured heart. “Please let me go.”
“You looked like you were going to faint. Come on. I’ll drive you.” They took off in a sprint with Coach Chaney and Vice Principal Singer calling for them to come back. Hope didn’t care. She had to get to Brock. ‘Hopefully he’ll realize you’re supposed to be together before the universe takes drastic measures.’ No! She’d never wanted this.
Her entire world blurred as Kevin sped towards the heart of Wilmington. Everything ached. What if he wasn’t going to be okay? What had happened? The questions whirred and tangled in her mind. Please, God, please let him be okay. Just please. Emotions threatened to overtake her. She gripped the handle of the door of Kevin’s Corolla, desperate for something to keep her grounded. Her entire world seemed to be spinning off of its axis. Her chest felt hollow as if her heart had been left behind, afraid of what it might experience once she entered that hospital.
“We’re almost there, okay? He’s gonna be fine. I just know.”
“How do you know?” she begged Kevin.
“My grandma was a Gypsy with the original Gypsy Beach tribe. I just know.”
Weary of that answer, Hope flung the door open as soon as Kevin was in the general vicinity of the Emergency Room entrance. He slammed on the brakes and she leapt from the car, racing into a future she wasn’t at all certain she could withstand.
Memories assaulted her as soon as she drew a breath of the stale sterile air. The last time she’d gone through those doors she was ten years old, and she was the one on a gurney, holding tightly to Skye’s tiny hand, whispering that it would be okay. Her parents had been killed on impact, but something in her mind kept telling her that they would be there at the hospital. That hadn’t been true. Suddenly, she remembered her own lies.
“Hope!” Ryan’s deep voice bellowed from her left. She raced towards him, nearly colliding with a nurse in her path.
“Where is he?” she managed in between her ragged sobs.
Mac and Molly stood from nearby chairs, and Molly drew Hope into her arms. “He’s going to be okay. I know it’s hard to feel that now, but I know.”
“You don’t know!” Hope raged. “You don’t know, and I need to see him!”
Sienna appeared near Ryan. “She does know, Hope, but I completely understand. The doctors have been in there for a while. Surely, they’ll come tell us something soon.”
Hope broke down again. Why was
life so horribly unfair? She couldn’t do this again. She couldn’t lose anyone else.
“Excuse me, is there a Hope Hendrix out here?” Suddenly, a doctor appeared from the room they were all gathered around. She was dressed in surgical scrubs, but it was her kind smile that gave Hope strength.
“I’m her. I mean, I’m Hope Hendrix.” She felt Mac steady her as she stepped towards the surgeon.
“I’m chief of surgery, Tanya Milburn. He’s been asking for you non-stop.”
“Is he okay, Doctor Milburn?” Mac urged.
“All I can tell you is that we’ve upgraded him from Critical to Fair, which is good. He’s struggling with the paperwork. I thought Ms. Hendrix might could help him.”
“Please, doctor. I don’t know how to contact his parents. Can you tell us something?” Ryan begged.
“We were very concerned it was his spine, which could have been fatal. He does have some injuries, but I can’t go into that until he signs saying that I can tell you. Hope.” She beckoned Hope to follow her back into the room.
Fair is kind of good, right? Hope tried to reassure herself as she braced for what he might look like lying weakly in a hospital bed. She met his eyes, and she no longer cared as she rushed to the side of the bed terrified to touch him. “Are you okay?”
He managed a weak nod, and then tears poured from the side of his eyes. He reached up with his left arm and dragged her to him as tightly as he could manage. “I’m so sorry for everything I ever did to you, Hope. Please, please, say you forgive me. I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want any part of this life without you. Just please don’t leave again.”
Another round of sobs consumed her as she nodded against him. “Me either.”
“I love you in every possible way there could possibly be to love you, and I’m so sorry,” he pled again.