They drove seven miles down Route 1 to the North Potomac Denny’s. They parked in back behind the dumpsters. Noah climbed out of the driver’s seat, grinning from ear to ear. Lilly pressed her body and her lips against him. Amber jumped on Carter, hugging him with her legs wrapped around him. After a moment the couples disengaged and the group reunited.
“That was bad ass,” Noah said to Carter. “I used to think you were an asshole, but you’re all right, man.”
“I could say the same about you,” Carter replied with a grin.
“We almost didn’t make it. I think the gate closed faster than you said it would.”
Carter laughed. “It seemed that way, didn’t it?”
Noah shook his head with a smirk. “You fucker, you had no idea how long it was gonna take for that gate to shut.”
“I had an idea, but it was more of an estimate than an exact time. I’m starving, let’s get something to eat. I could kill for an omelet.”
“Oh my God, look at your car,” Amber said with her hand over her mouth. “What are you gonna do? Your dad’s gonna kill you.”
Carter moved next to Amber. Noah and Lilly followed. He nodded his head, his mouth turned down, inspecting the damage. He looked at Amber, his jaw set tight. “You know what? My dad can go fuck himself.” Carter kicked the driver’s side door, adding a size ten-and-a-half dent. “I’ll tell ’em somebody sideswiped me while I was parked. This car is a piece of shit anyway.”
– 12 –
What’s Done Is Done
Police sirens intruded on Carter’s REM sleep. His eyes fluttered. Lights flashed round and round, piercing his blinds. His head pounded. Shit, my license plate. I’m so dumb. I should have listened to Amber. His stomach sank. He popped out of bed, naked except for boxers. He parted the blinds and peered out his bedroom window. Two fire trucks, a fire chief SUV, and half-a-dozen marked and unmarked police cars were parked on his block. They were clustered near the Wheeler’s townhouse.
He dressed quickly and exited through the garage. He glanced at his mom’s station wagon. The scratches were deeper than he remembered – down to the metal. He shook his head at the dent on the door. What the fuck was I thinking? Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler stood across the street by an unmarked police car. Mrs. Wheeler leaned on her husband, her face buried in his neck. Two detectives in dark suits were speaking with the couple. An ambulance was in their driveway. The garage door was open. Fire fighters roused the Wheeler’s next door neighbor. An older couple was escorted outside in their pajamas and robes. Fire fighters entered their home, staring at yellow handheld devices.
Carter walked down the sidewalk toward the commotion. A burly police officer stood on the sidewalk blocking his way.
“What happened?” Carter asked.
He shook his head. “Sorry, sir, I’m not at liberty to say. Please stand back from the scene.” He used the magic word but it came out more like a command.
Carter walked back toward his house. A few neighbors stood on their front stoops in pajamas and sweats, watching the scene. He glanced across the street at the Wheelers. Mrs. Wheeler wailed and tried to push her way back to her home. Mr. Wheeler restrained her. Carter turned around, looking at the ambulance. He saw a gurney covered in a white sheet being loaded inside. The paramedics wore respirators. There were audible thuds as the ambulance doors were slammed shut. His stomach twisted in knots. Ben.
The ambulance pulled out of the driveway slowly, lights flashing. There were no sirens. The officers and fire fighters were subdued, talking in low tones and whispers. Mrs. Wheeler’s sobbing cut through the quiet. The Wheelers were whisked away in an unmarked police car, following close behind the ambulance. The elderly couple was led back into their home by a fire fighter.
* * *
Carter lay in the dark, the streetlight cast slivers of light through the blinds. Raindrops pelted his window. His eye throbbed. He thought about Ben. Was that him on that gurney? It had to be, and you know why. There were five quick taps on his window, a pause, then five more. He groaned. His ribs ached when he moved. He staggered to the window, splitting the blinds with his fingers. Sarah was standing there in a dark raincoat, her hood up and her face pressed against the window. He mouthed, hold on. He crept into the garage, turned the light on and eased up the garage door, careful of the noise. Sarah bent down and squeezed under the door. She yanked the hood off her head and hugged Carter, the moisture from her raincoat seeping into his T-shirt and boxer shorts. She buried her face into the crook of his neck and sobbed. They stayed that way for several minutes.
She raised her head from his neck and stepped back. Her eyes were wet and puffy. “He’s gone,” she said, “and I think it might be my fault.”
Carter shook his head. “No. It’s not.”
“He told me that he loved me and I …” She placed her head in her hands. Her chest heaved with sobs. “I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to explain, but how do you explain to someone that loves you that you don’t love them back?”
“I don’t know,” Carter replied.
“He just got mad and yelled at me and told me to leave. That was the last time we talked.”
“I’m sorry, Sarah.”
She was silent, staring at the concrete.
“You can’t put this on yourself. You were a good friend to him.”
She looked at Carter, her eyes wide. Her lower lip quivered and new tears flowed down her cheeks. “Your face.”
“It looks worse than it feels.”
“What happened?”
“I put a dent on my mom’s car and my dad put a dent on my face.”
“He can’t keep doing this to you. We could talk to Mrs. Little at school. She’d know what to do. She’s really nice –”
“Sarah, no. It’s not important right now. Let’s go inside.”
Carter put his hand on her upper back and guided her into his room. He glanced at his alarm clock: 1:23 A.M. She unzipped her jacket. Carter took it and hung it on the edge of the futon. She plopped down on the couch. Her face was red and blotchy. Carter slipped on sweatpants and sat in front of her on the army footlocker that doubled as a coffee table.
“I’m sorry it’s so late,” she said. “I came by earlier, but your dad said you weren’t allowed out.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” he replied.
She took a deep breath. “I went by to see Ben this afternoon. His mom answered the door. She was a wreck. She told me that Ben ran her car in the garage. It was carbon monoxide poisoning.” Sarah shook her head. “I should have seen it coming.”
Carter grasped her hand, cradling it in both of his. “Sarah … you couldn’t have. Nobody did.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I wish I could do it over. I knew he was hurt, but I just walked away.”
“If I tell you something, will you promise not to tell anyone?”
Her eyes were wide, her eyebrows raised. “It depends on what it is.”
“You have to promise me, or I can’t.”
She frowned. “You’re scaring me.”
He pursed his lips. “It’s bad. Please don’t say anything.”
“Okay.” She nodded.
“It was the initiation at Zach’s farmhouse. He was never the same after that.”
She glared and snatched her hand from his. “I asked you about it then. You told me you didn’t know what was wrong with him.”
“I’m sorry. I thought it would blow over. And Ben and I weren’t exactly friends.”
Her face was red. “Don’t you make excuses, not now.”
He stared at the carpet. “You’re right.” He nodded and looked up. “We were shoved in the basement of the farmhouse. It was Ben and me and Devin and ten other guys that had to go through the initiation. All the other guys were around the room, blocking the exits. They gave us three choices. We could allow Justin to smack us in the face with his penis. We could hold a cucumber in our ass for a certain amount of time or we could go back to the part
y naked.”
She shook her head. “Let me guess. Zach and Justin were running the show.”
“It gets worse. They told us that we had to sleep with someone at the party, or we would sleep outside with no clothes on.”
She tightened her jaw. “Amber.”
Carter’s face was hot. “I’m sorry.”
She scowled. “No, it’s fine. Go on.”
“Zach made it seem like running out into the party naked to try to sleep with some girl was the worst option.”
“Jesus.”
“He convinced Ben to make a decision first, and Ben chose to let Justin smack him in the face with his penis.”
“Please tell me he didn’t do it.”
Carter shook his head. “He didn’t. Ben closed his eyes, and Justin smacked him in the face with a cucumber.”
“Just like at lunch.”
“Yes.”
“Did that happen to anyone else?”
Carter pursed his lips. “That’s the problem. The whole thing was a test. Everyone else picked to go outside and sleep with a girl. He chose to be smacked in the face with Justin’s penis. Everybody looked at him like he had some disease. He was totally humiliated.”
She glared at Carter. “So then the rest of you guys ran out naked and slept with some skank.”
“No, it wasn’t like that. We ran out naked, but there was some girl right outside to cover us up, and a lot of the girls lied, told Zach and Justin that they slept with the guy even when they didn’t so they could get their stuff back.”
She narrowed her eyes, searching his face. “Is that what happened with you and Amber? Did she wrap you up in a blanket and give you a peck on the cheek?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Not exactly.”
She stood up and grabbed her jacket, shoving her arms through the sleeves. “I thought so.”
“Sarah, it’s not like we’re together.”
“That’s for sure.” She zipped up her jacket. “You need to tell your coach what happened. And you need to tell Mrs. Wheeler.”
“A lot of people could get into serious trouble. I’d be a snitch. Who knows, they might cancel the season.”
“You’re an asshole.”
She stormed out of his room into the garage. He followed.
“He’s gone, Sarah. There’s nothing that can be done about it now.”
She stopped at the garage door and glowered at Carter. “If that’s what you think, you’re not who I thought you were.”
And then she was gone, into the rain, into the night.
* * *
Carter slung his duffel bag over his shoulder. A handful of guys were getting dressed in the locker room. He walked to the hall and stopped at Coach Cowan’s office. The door was open. He stuck his head inside. Cowan sat on the couch, a remote in hand, watching game film. Carter tapped his knuckles on the open door. The coach glanced at Carter and paused the clip. His speckled hair was matted to his head in the form of his hat. His mustache widened with his smile.
“What can I do for you, Carter?” he asked.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Come on in.”
Carter stepped into his office, dressed like his coach in black Marauder sweats.
“Grab one of those chairs,” Coach Cowan said, motioning to the chairs in front of his desk.
Carter picked up a chair and set it down across from the couch. He placed his duffel bag on the floor and sat down. He gnawed on the inside of his cheek. Coach Cowan narrowed his eyes at Carter’s shiner.
“You look like you got somethin’ important on your mind,” the coach said.
Carter nodded. “This is difficult to say.”
“Does this have somethin’ to do with your eye?”
Carter looked down. “No, sir. It has to do with hazing and Ben Wheeler.”
Coach Cowan stood, marched to his door, and closed it. He returned to his seat on the couch. “Go on,” he said.
Carter went on to tell his coach in detail about the hazing that Ben endured that night at Zach’s farmhouse.
There was a long silence. “I just think if we didn’t have that initiation, he’d still be here today,” Carter said.
Coach Cowan took a deep breath, shaking his head. “It’s a damn tragedy. I wish I’d known what was goin’ on. I’m glad you came to me with this. I know it took a lot of courage to come forward. And don’t worry – we’ll keep this conversation between us.”
Carter nodded. “What do we do now?”
“Son, this is no longer your responsibility. I’ll handle it from here. You just need to concentrate on playin’ football. It’s playoff time. We gotta turn it up a notch.”
“Are you gonna talk to Ben’s parents?”
“Uhhh, yeah, I’ll need to do that, but I’d rather not get into all that with you. This is a private matter. You have to remember we’re dealin’ with grievin’ parents. We have to be extra careful that embarrassin’ things about their son don’t come out. Do you understand what I’m tryin’ to tell you?”
“I think so.”
“Listen, Carter, you cannot under any circumstances tell anyone about this. You start spreadin’ this stuff, a lot of people bound to get hurt. The Wheelers especially. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Will you keep it under wraps and let me handle this?”
“Yes, sir.”
Coach Cowan nodded. “I’m proud of you, son.”
– 13 –
The Two Minute Drill
The Marauder stadium was packed. It was mostly adults on the cold aluminum stands, their hot chocolates and coffees in hand. Some stood, shivering, their hands buried in their pockets. The students fought for standing room along the fence that separated the fans from the cheerleaders and football players. The students rarely watched the games; they were usually blowouts. It was more of a social event for them. With the cheerleaders covered up in their winter gear and the scoreboard tight, the focus was on the game.
Coach Ware shook his head, his hands on his hips, as he watched the third down pass to Dwayne fall incomplete. He was decked out in a Marauders track suit and a knit cap. Condensation spilled out of his mouth as he said, “Punt team.” He tossed his clipboard toward the bench.
Carter lined up on the punt team, split out like a wide receiver. He signaled to the referee that he was on the line. He turned his head to the left, concentrating on the football in the long snapper’s hands. A Washington Heights defender stood in front of Carter, his hands at chest height. When the ball moved, Carter sprinted downfield, the defender a yard behind and losing ground. He heard the thud of the football booming off the punter’s foot. He didn’t look up as the football sailed over his head, instead focusing on one thing: the return man. The Washington Heights Warriors punt returner was small but shifty. Carter expected to veer off course and give the returner space for the fair catch. The punt returner looked up at the football swirling high over his head. His hands were held out in front of him like a basket. No fair catch. The ball fell out of the sky into the returner’s gloved hands. Carter didn’t have to break stride. He blasted through the returner, his shoulder and facemask planted in the middle of the eight and two. Number eighty-two was sprawled on the ground, the wind knocked out of him. He still clutched the football in both hands.
The referees took an injury timeout. They spotted the ball on the Washington Heights thirty-three-yard line. The Marauders nickel defense huddled near the sideline, Coach Cowan in front. Carter glanced at the scoreboard. The Marauders were on top Twenty to fourteen, with 1:36 left on the clock.
Coach Cowan said, “Hey, let’s be smart. They got a minute and a half left and one timeout. That’s plenty of time for them, but they got a long field. Defensive ends, don’t let that quarterback get outside of you. Defensive backs, don’t give ’em anything deep, and keep them in bounds. And when you tackle someone, don’t get off the pile, make the refs pull you off.”
The clock ticked down as the Warriors battled their way to the Marauders’ thirty-one-yard line with pinpoint passing, shifty scrambling, and a running back draw.
The Warriors lined up in an empty formation, three receivers on the left and two on the right. The quarterback was in the shotgun, alone in the backfield. The Marauders had three down linemen and a middle linebacker. Five defensive backs were playing press man-to-man on the five wide receivers. Noah and Carter were twelve yards deep on the hashes with explicit instructions not to let anyone behind them. Justin tapped the left hip of the nose guard in front of him. On the snap, the nose guard shot in the gap to the left of the center. The center moved with the nose, creating a crease on the right that Justin barreled through untouched. He planted the quarterback on the turf. The result: a loss of seven. The Warriors burned their final timeout.
Second down and seventeen.
Ball on the Marauders’ thirty-eight-yard line.
Thirty-seven seconds on the clock.
The Warriors were in the spread. The quarterback fired a frozen rope to the outside receiver on a hitch. The receiver gained seven yards before being tackled inbounds. The clock was moving. The warriors hurried to the line, the quarterback shouting the play. The inside receiver, Scooter Brooks, ran a slant, beating the rover. The quarterback hit the receiver in stride. Carter tackled him after a ten-yard gain. The clock stopped on the first down, but promptly restarted after the referee spotted the ball. Again the Warriors hurried to the line, this time with a running back in the backfield. The center snapped the football. Justin and the defensive line raced into the backfield unscathed. The running back slipped behind them and the quarterback looped a screen pass over their heads. The running back caught the football and raced up the middle of the field, until Noah and Carter buried him into the turf. It was a gain of ten and another first down.
Initiation Page 13