“Scott, thank you for coming,” the principal said indicating I should take the remaining free chair. A cough behind me startled me for a moment. Coach Carlson followed me into the room, firmly closing the door. He wore his normal coach clothes, white polo shirt and red shorts with tube socks and tennis shoes. His friggin’ whistle hung around his neck. Did he ever take it off? The man probably wore it to bed and used it anytime Mrs. Carlson got out of bounds.
I sat next to Grandfather. The chair felt hard and unforgiving. The room smelled like paper and maybe a faint hint of tobacco, Mr. Turner had been sneaking cigarettes, again. He looked at the coach and then at my grandfather. He seemed to be avoiding looking at me.
“Mr. James, thank you for coming in so quickly,” he said.
My grandfather, the official ‘Mr. James’ nodded his head. He never did go in for the simple pleasantries of conversation.
Taking a deep breath Mr. Turner brought his hands together. Interlocked his fingers and set them on the desk in front of him. “Yesterday, your grandson, beat a fellow student, Danny Carrs. He hurt him so badly that the boy had to be taken to the hospital. They operated on him this morning and he should be released later this afternoon.”
“Two days before the playoffs,” Coach Carlson snapped from behind us.
My grandfather didn’t say anything, just looked at the principal and waited for the rest. I could see his hands gripping his jeans. His knuckles were turning white. Boy was he pissed. To show that much emotion said a lot.
“As you can imagine, we can’t have our students fighting. Especially young men who should be setting an example. I am afraid I am going to have to Expe…”
“Hold it a second,” my grandfather said, shocking me with his gravelly voice. He didn’t normally interrupt people.
“Yes, Mr. James?” the principal asked, his eyebrow rising.
Grandfather stared at the principal for a moment his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. “Did this fight occur on school grounds?”
“It wasn’t a fight, it was a beating. Our most important player no less. Scott’s supposed to be protecting him, not putting him in the hospital,” Coach Carlson said.
My grandfather turned in his chair as his eyes narrowed and his brow creased. He shot the Coach a look that could freeze water on a warm day. “I remember you getting into a fight or two in your younger days, Jake. In fact, if I remember correctly, Scott’s dad kicked your butt in 8th grade after he caught you bullying some of the smaller boys.”
Coach Carlson sputtered for a moment. I hadn’t known that about dad and Coach. That might explain a couple of things.
“That was kid’s stuff, this is way more serious,” Coach said.
“Why, because of who got hurt, or the fact it happened a couple of days before a football game?” Wow, I couldn’t believe this, the old man stuck up for me. Of course, that was all going to change when he found out why.
Grandfather had always told me that a man who couldn’t control his emotions wasn’t much of a man. That I was responsible for what I did. No excuse. He’d also drilled into me the fact that a guy my size had a special responsibility of staying in control. People could get hurt otherwise. Danny most definitely proved that last point.
Grandfather turned back to Mr. Turner. He hadn’t asked what the fight was about. Hadn’t looked at me to see if I was all right. He’d just assumed what the principal said was true.
“And why aren’t the police here?” Grandfather asked, pausing for a moment. “I assume Danny’s dad decided not to press charges. That must mean his old man’s embarrassed about something. Either the fact that his precious son got his ass kicked. Or, the reason behind the fight. Probably both.”
Mr. Turner sighed. “We don’t know the reason. Maybe Scott would like to enlighten us?” They all looked at me as if I had the answer to the meaning of life and was holding out on them. I stared back but didn’t say a word. They would learn soon enough It surprised me they hadn’t heard the story already.
Turner’s eyes glinted and I realized the bastard had heard. He wanted me to say it out loud. My virgin girlfriend preferred to have sex with my best friend instead of me. I’d always thought he was a bit of an asshole. It wasn’t until that moment that I knew how much.
I took a deep breath and got ready to let loose on them. To tell them what I thought about their friggin’ school and where they could put it. They didn’t care about Danny or me. It was the fact that we might have brought the school, and therefore the town, a trophy. Some brass statue to be put in the front case where Mr. Alverez, the janitor would dust it off twice a year. I could feel the rage rising like a coke bottle ready to explode.
A bony hand grasped my arm. My grandfather's gnarled fingers held me back. It shocked me, how old they looked. Brown age spots had appeared on the back of his hand. When did that happen? I’d seen those hands twist barb wire into shape one day then sooth a struggling heifer as she gave birth the next.
I looked into his eyes and saw a glint of something I didn’t understand.
“Actually, Mr. Turner, I don’t believe you can punish Scott. It didn’t happen during school or on school grounds,” my grandfather said as he leaned back in his chair.
Turner looked as if someone had let the air out of him and stared at his hands.
“It might not have happened on school grounds. But I can sure do something about it.” Coach Carlson said from his perch behind us. “Scott signed a contract at the beginning of the season, all of the boys did, and promised not to do anything that hurt the team cohesion. I think this qualifies. Scott is off the team. Period.”
My gut clenched into the tightest knot. I figured this would probably be the case. To actually hear the words felt like a helmet to the middle. I stared out the window like it didn’t mean a thing. Hell, I’d have taken an expulsion if it meant I could have stayed on the team. They couldn’t do anything worse.
“What’s more,” Coach continued. “I plan on calling Coach Stevens at the university and letting him know what has happened. I’m pretty sure you can kiss that scholarship goodbye.”
I swear to God he sounded like a little kid.
Well, there it was. The final whistle. Game over. I’d been waiting for it ever since I threw that first punch the day before. My one way out. My one dream, gone. Just like that.
I felt a new loss, one more thing piling onto all the losses. This was different. Losing that scholarship was letting my dead parents down. They’d met and gotten married while at the University of Nebraska. Both of them would light up like roman candles whenever they talked about their time there. They’d shoot each other a secret glance and smile at some shared memory.
I wanted to go to Nebraska so bad it hurt. I wanted to start for their football team. I wanted to be what Keith Jackson had famously dubbed, ’A Big Ugly up front.’ Hell, secretly I wanted to parlay that into a pro football career. I know I might be stretching it a little, a guy could dream, couldn’t he? Or at least I could until I threw that first punch.
An empty, hollow, dullness descended over me. It felt like a hole had opened inside of me, sucking my soul into a giant chasm. My mind searched for an out, anything. But there wasn’t a thing I could do about it.
My grandfather stood and threw Coach Carlson a nasty look. I thought he wanted to say something. He hesitated, then shook his head. “If that’s it, we’ll be going,” he said as he turned and walked out the door. I looked at Turner and Coach before I jumped up to follow the old man out.
Battle Ax Betty looked like she was going to swallow her tongue. I’m sure Turner would fill her in later. I caught up with Grandfather at the front door and followed him out to his truck parked at the front of the building. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do now. My thoughts were tumbling around like a clown in a barrel.
“You don’t got to tell me, but, I’ve got to admit I am dying of curiosity,” Grandfather said. “I mean, it’s not like you and Danny to get into it like this.”
He’d caught me flat footed. I hadn’t thought this through, or at least not to a way that made any sense. How could I tell him that I had lost control? Especially about something like this. A chill traveled up and down my spine when I thought about saying the words.
The birds were chirping and I could taste potential rain. I realized I was stalling. The old man stood there with his hands behind his back patiently waiting.
I took a deep breath and told him everything. About how I found them. About how Gina had never wanted to do anything more than kiss, and how she hadn’t even seemed to like that. When I finished, I hung my head and stared at the ground. The deafening silence eating into my soul.
We reached his truck and he suddenly halted before he glanced at the sky. He did that before he made any decisions. I used to think he searched for God’s guidance. It took me a few years to realize that he instinctively looked at the weather. No farmer ever made a decision without checking the weather. Our lives revolved around it.
His gnarled hand came into my vision. He stood there waiting for me to shake it. I reached out and grasped it. My heart lodged in my throat when I realized that mine was as big as his. We squeezed and he stared into my eyes. “Your dad would have been proud,” was all he said. Not that he was proud, not that he felt my pain.
Hey, I’ll take it. One of my most important rules is – Any approval from Grandfather was the equivalent of winning the Heisman and an Oscar on the same day.
Certain Rules
My Brother's Bodyguard (Hometown Heros #1) Page 20