He looked at Jonas, panicked.
“Turn it the other way,” Jonas said quietly.
Alex did—and this time the door opened.
The lights in the hallway that led to the offices were on, so they had no trouble finding their way. Mr. Hillier had told Christine that the players’ records were kept in an old-fashioned file cabinet in Coach Gordon’s office. When they found the coach’s door ajar, Alex got scared again: what if Coach was there? But he pushed the door open and poked his head in—empty. The file cabinet had no locks on it, and in the top drawer, there it was: VARSITY/JUNIOR VARSITY—2014, HEALTH FORMS.
“Bingo!” Christine said.
They each took a stack of forms and looked for a place to sit. Christine sat on the floor. Jonas plopped down behind Coach Gordon’s desk, which made Alex nervous. He said nothing and sat down in the chair across from the desk with his set of forms on his lap.
Christine was already ahead. “Blood type is two-thirds of the way down the page,” she said. “Right-hand side.”
Alex’s first form was for Timothy P. Maxwell. He recognized the name: a JV player. Only a handful of the JVs—the ones who had suited up—had been tested. He wished the varsity and JV forms had been separated out. There were probably close to a hundred forms to go through.
Maxwell had type A blood. Alex put his form on the desk in front of him and moved on. The next one was Jonas’s. He also had type A blood.
He was about eight forms in when he heard Jonas say, “Got one—Terrence Gaston.”
“Backup slotback,” Alex said.
Christine gave him a look as if to say, I know that, then took out a notebook and asked Jonas for details.
“He’s five eleven, 148,” Jonas said. “Anything’s possible, but it doesn’t seem likely.”
She nodded. They kept looking. Alex found the next one: Alan Tribble, an outside linebacker. Tribble was certainly a more likely candidate than Gaston. He was listed as six two, 215 pounds.
Alex also found the next one: it was a JV player, Kenny Holtzman.
They were all now nearing the bottom of their piles. Alex glanced at his watch: fifteen minutes were left until the end of third period. He kept going. He only had four forms left when he heard Jonas say, “Oh my God!” in about as loud a whisper as was possible.
“What?” Alex asked.
Jonas was holding up a form in the air. “I think we may have it,” he said.
“Well, who is it?” Alex asked.
Jonas put the form down on the desk and pushed it across to Alex. “Read it yourself,” he said.
Alex gasped when he saw the name at the top of the page: MATTHEW GORDON JR.
His eyes darted downward. BLOOD TYPE: O-NEGATIVE.
Christine leaned over his shoulder and gave a little gasp too.
They were all staring at one another when they heard a door open. Jonas pointed at the small bathroom that adjoined Coach Gordon’s office. He put a finger to his lips, and as quietly and as quickly as possible, they dashed into the bathroom.
If Jonas was scared, he didn’t show it. Christine looked the way Alex felt: terrified. Jonas had grabbed his backpack and his forms and carried them into the bathroom. When Alex saw that Jonas had the forms, he gasped again: he’d taken Matt’s, but the rest of his were on Coach Gordon’s desk.
He started to go back, but Jonas seized his arm. It was too late. Someone was walking into Coach Gordon’s office.
“Alex? Are you in here? Christine?”
Jonas looked at Alex and mouthed the word who? As in, who could possibly know that Alex was in here?
They listened again.
“Guys, it’s okay,” the voice said. “It’s me. Mr. Hillier.”
Alex breathed a huge sigh. Christine almost collapsed into his arms in relief. The three of them walked out of the bathroom.
“I figured I’d better check on you guys,” Mr. Hillier said. “Coaches usually don’t come in before eleven, but if someone came in a little early—”
He stopped, looking at the form in Alex’s hand.
“You find something?” he asked.
Alex nodded and handed him Matt’s form.
Mr. Hillier looked and whistled. “You think he’s the one?”
“He’s the only one of the four O-negatives that makes any sense,” Christine said. “The others aren’t that important or aren’t that big, or aren’t either.”
Mr. Hillier nodded and read from the file. “Matt’s six two, 195 pounds. To be honest, I’d say he’s more like 210.”
Alex was shaking his head. “I can’t believe Matt—”
“Would take steroids?” Mr. Hillier asked. “I can. Think of the pressure his father puts him under. What I don’t believe is that he had anything to do with switching the labels on the vials. For one thing, I don’t think he’d have the opportunity. But even if he did, this isn’t who Matt Gordon is.”
“Then who?” Christine asked.
Mr. Hillier looked around. “We need to put these files back and get out of here. You three all need to get to fourth period. Let’s all meet in my office at lunchtime.”
They didn’t argue.
As they walked out of the office, Alex’s head was spinning.
Matt? It had to be a mistake. Then again …
When Alex, Christine, and Jonas walked into the newspaper office at lunchtime, Mr. Hillier was ready.
“Let’s go,” he said. “As soon as word gets out that Alex has been cleared, people are going to start trying to hide.”
“Where are we going?” Alex asked.
“To see Buddy Thomas,” Mr. Hillier said.
They all just followed him.
Buddy Thomas was alone in the training room, opening up boxes of the tape he wrapped players’ ankles with.
When he looked up and saw the four of them coming, he didn’t say a word. Instead, he turned his back, pulled down another box, and said, “Coach Hillier, all due respect, we don’t allow girls in the locker room.”
“Buddy, we only need a minute,” Mr. Hillier said, ignoring the comment about Christine.
“Haven’t got it,” Buddy said, opening another box of tape.
“You can talk to us right now,” Mr. Hillier said. “Or to the police in about an hour.”
Buddy looked up quickly. “The police?” he asked. “About what?”
“About tampering with blood samples. About falsifying evidence against an innocent student.”
Buddy looked truly baffled.
“Coach, I swear I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, his tone completely different than it had been thirty seconds earlier.
“When the blood samples were taken from all the players two weeks ago, you were left in charge of them until LabCorp picked them up,” Mr. Hillier said. “I know that from the other coaches. And we found out from LabCorp that your signature is on the form for turning the samples over to the messenger.”
“So?” Buddy said. “What does that have to do with falsifying evidence? I never touched the stuff. It just sat in the training room until the guy came to pick it up.”
“How long was that?” Christine asked.
Buddy shrugged. “I don’t know.” He thought for a second. “Maybe an hour. What’s going on?”
Christine didn’t answer, just plowed on. “Were you in the training room the whole time?” she asked.
Buddy shook his head. “No. I had work to do. Once all the nurses cleared out, I called the lab for the pickup and worked on stuff in my office. What is this, an episode of Law and Order?”
“Was anyone else around?” Christine asked.
Buddy actually thought about that one, then shook his head.
“No. I’d already sent the kids who help me here home. Everything was done. Coaches had all left. Except for …”
He stopped.
“Except for who, Buddy?” Mr. Hillier asked.
“No one,” Buddy said. “No one. Look, I’ve got work to do.…”
Alex hadn’t said a word until then.
“Buddy, please. Someone switched the labels on the vials in there. That’s why my blood came up positive—because it wasn’t mine. Someone had to switch them. Please tell us who was here that night.”
Buddy looked at Alex.
“I never thought you were guilty, Myers,” he said. “I really didn’t.”
“Who was here, Buddy?” Mr. Hillier said very softly.
Buddy leaned on top of the training table. “I had no idea why he went into the training room,” he said. “I really didn’t. He said he’d left something behind.”
“Who?” they all said.
“It was Jake,” Buddy finally said. “Jake Bilney.”
Alex actually felt faint for a moment. Clearly, Christine did too. Mr. Hillier and Jonas simply stared at Buddy.
“Are you sure?” Mr. Hillier said.
“Of course I’m sure,” Buddy said. “That doesn’t mean he did anything. But he was in there a few minutes. Said he’d taken his watch off for the blood test and then couldn’t find it.”
Christine shook her head. “Jake doesn’t wear a watch.”
Alex realized she was right. Jake was always looking at his cell phone for the time.
“Buddy,” Mr. Hillier said. “I don’t want to accuse Jake of anything unless you’re sure.”
“I’m not lying,” Buddy said. “And I did not touch that blood.”
He was, if nothing else, convincing.
“Now what do we do?” Jonas asked.
“We go see Jake in the cafeteria,” Mr. Hillier said. “Except for you, Christine. You’re going to go talk to Matt.”
Christine reddened a little. “Why should I go talk to Matt?” she said.
“Because he’ll tell you the truth,” Mr. Hillier said. “Hmm …, now that I think of it—Alex, Jonas, you guys go talk to Jake without me. If I walk in with you, Jake’ll freak out. Tell him what you know—and be firm about it. See what he says.”
Alex still wasn’t sure what was going on. He had sensed, at times, that it bothered Jake that he had come in and moved ahead of him on the depth chart. But Jake had never said it was wrong—in fact, he’d made a point of saying it was the right thing to do, not so much because Jake was a bad player (he wasn’t) but because he was Matt lite running the offense and Alex brought a completely different dimension to it with his arm.
Jealous of him? Sure, Alex could buy that. Defensive about Coach Gordon? Absolutely. But this? He still couldn’t believe it.
Lunch period was winding down when they walked in. Alex spotted Jake sitting with a bunch of juniors—none of them football players.
Matt was standing at a table on the other side of the room with some of the guys on the team. The room was buzzing more than normal: five days without school loomed, as did the pep rally and the game Friday night. Christine took a deep breath and walked in Matt’s direction without saying a word to Alex or Jonas.
Alex took a deep breath too, and he and Jonas headed for Jake’s table. If any of this was making Jonas uptight, he didn’t show it. He was as cool now as in the closing seconds of the games they had pulled out during the regular season.
“Hey, Goldie,” Jake said. “Where’ve you been?”
“Actually, I’ve got some news. You got a minute?” Alex nodded in the direction of the table where he and Jonas usually sat.
“Absolutely,” Jake said, sitting up from his usual slouch and then standing. The three of them went to the table and sat down. Alex knew all eyes from the football table were on them.
“So,” Jake said. “Tell me you got some good news—please tell me that.”
“In about two minutes, they’re going to announce I’ve been cleared,” Alex said. “There was a mistake.”
“That’s great!” Jake yelled. “Goldie, I guarantee we’re going to need you Friday. What happened?”
Alex walked through how he had learned about how the blood samples had somehow been switched. He watched Jake’s face carefully as he talked.
“So how in the world did they get switched?” Jake asked. At that moment, his cell phone began pinging. He picked it up. “Google alert on you, Goldie,” he said. He hit a couple of buttons. “Here it is: ‘State clears Chester Heights QB. Blood test was compromised.’ ”
He looked up, smiling.
“Congrats, Alex,” he said. “But I still don’t understand how it happened.”
“Why don’t you tell us?” Jonas said, his tone a little bit menacing.
For the first time, Jake’s face betrayed some fear. “Me?” he said. “How would I know anything?”
Jake was clearly lying—the look on his face now was a dead giveaway. Alex could feel his anger swell.
“Hey, Jakey, what time is it?” he asked.
Jake looked at his phone. “It’s 12:01. Why?”
“You told Buddy Thomas you needed to go back into the training room on the day we were tested because you left your watch in there,” Alex said. “Problem is, Jake, you don’t wear a watch.”
Jake’s face lost all color. “So?” he said, knowing he was caught but trying to bluster through somehow.
“Why, Jake?” Alex asked. “How could you do that to me?”
“Let me answer that one, Jakey,” a voice said behind Alex. “I’m pretty sure I know exactly what happened.”
Alex looked behind him. Matt Gordon was standing there with Christine. He grabbed two empty chairs from the next table. Christine sat in one, Matt the other. The bell rang. No one moved.
“Let me begin at the beginning,” he said.
“A lot of this is your fault, Alex,” Matt said, looking right at Alex and calling him by his real name for just about the first time since he’d put “Goldie” on him way back in August. “It started, really, when I first saw you throw a football in preseason. You do have a golden arm. I looked at you and thought, he’s just a freshman—by the time he grows and gets stronger, he’s going to be a better quarterback than I can ever dream of being.”
“But—” Alex said.
Matt held up a hand to stop him. “I had two goals this summer: for us to have a great season and to put myself in a position by the end of the season to be a big-time D1 recruit. When I saw you, I knew I was a lot farther from being the kind of player I needed to be to get recruited than I’d thought.”
He paused. They were all staring at him. No one said a word. The cafeteria was emptying. None of them noticed.
Matt looked down at the floor. “I panicked,” he continued. “I knew I could never throw the ball like you do—I just don’t have that kind of arm. But I could use my speed and build my strength to the point where I could be a very good college quarterback. There are 126 Division I schools. Maybe twenty have quarterbacks with legitimate NFL arms each year. I didn’t have to be one of those guys. I could be a poor man’s Tebow: big enough and athletic enough to be a very good college QB. If I got to that point, maybe I could even be an NFL tight end or fullback or H-back.
“But I needed to get better—fast. In a fair competition, Goldie, you might have beaten me out by midseason.”
“Not true,” Alex said.
Matt again held up a hand. “You play football well, Goldie, but you don’t know football like I do. You aren’t a coach’s son. You haven’t studied the game your whole life. I still had an edge there. But I needed more.
“So I went looking for help—and I found it.”
“Isn’t it hard to find steroids?” Christine asked.
Matt laughed and shook his head. “Not even a little bit. Every team, including ours, has guys on it who know people who know people. You just ask around a little. Took me about a week to make a connection.
“I screwed up twice. First, I didn’t know about the new drug-testing rule. Of all people, I should have known. I found out when my dad got a reminder memo and I happened to see it on his desk. By then it was too late to cycle off before the first test.
“And you k
now the worst thing about steroids? They work. That’s why so many guys take the risk. I put on fifteen pounds of solid muscle. I could work out twice a day and not feel tired or sore.
“But when I realized I was caught, I thought I owed it to my dad to let him know.” He looked Alex right in the eye. “I told him I’d quit before they did the test. I said I’d confess to the team and quit, and he could play you instead. It would probably come out sooner or later what I’d done, but at least I wouldn’t have a positive test on my record.
“He said I should just play. He said maybe everything I’d read was wrong and I’d test clean if I got off what I was taking right away. So I stopped. And when my test came back clean, I was stunned.
“But then I heard you tested positive, Alex, and I knew something had happened. I knew there was no way you were taking anything. For one thing, you can’t lift five pounds. For another”—his eyes were starting to glisten—“I know you.”
They were all listening now, mouths agape.
“I went to my father the day they announced you were suspended. I told him it had to be a mistake. He said there was nothing to be done and that it wasn’t my concern. I got angry with him and said it was my concern because Alex was my teammate and my friend.
“He waved me off. Then I really got angry and asked him if he’d had anything to do with it. He was furious. He couldn’t believe I’d question his integrity that way, even if there was a way to mess with the test—which there wasn’t, he said. He threw me out of his office.”
“But he was lying,” Christine said. “Right, Jake?”
Jake also had tears in his eyes. The bell for fifth period was ringing. They all just stared at him.
“Yes,” Jake said slowly. “He was lying. He called me in the Monday after we beat Chester. He said he needed me to do something that was awful but would be better for everyone on the team in the long run. When he told me what it was, I said no, absolutely not, no way. He said he’d make certain Alex wouldn’t be punished beyond missing the playoffs this year.
The Walk On Page 26