TACKLING THE TRUTH
By
Tim Myers
TACKLING THE TRUTH
by Tim Myers
Copyright © 2010 by Tim Myers
All rights reserved.
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Chapter 1
I used to think the truth was like a solid steel rod; heavy, straight and unbendable.
Now I know it’s more like a spider web, thin and shifting under the slightest breeze, fragile and yet stronger than I ever imagined it could be.
They say the truth will set you free.
Sometimes that’s not what happens at all.
Sometimes it’s the truth that locks you up tighter than any prison ever built.
At least that’s how it happened to me.
“Mom, there is no way you’re pulling me out of school my Senior year. All my friends are at Jefferson High, and Coach Harrison just about promised me I’d start at linebacker this year.”
I didn’t want to move. I’d lived in Clareview all my life, at least all I could remember of it. Now here it was, three days before the start of school and Mom dropped the bomb on me. I’d sweated through the grueling late summer football practices, two a days in the tough Georgia heat that drained the life out of me, and now my Mom was telling me I’d done it all for nothing.
“Jeff, this can’t be helped. I’m really sorry. We’re moving.”
“I’m all for it,” Kat said. My little sister was a Junior, just a year younger than me, but she was almost eager to change schools. Her best friend Mattie had moved to California right after the plant shut down, so the last place on earth Kat wanted to be was home. Mom had managed to hold on through the summer, but she’d lost her job with the closing, too. I knew money was tight, but I hadn’t realized how tight until she made her announcement that we were leaving.
“I can get a job after school,” I offered, “as soon as football season is over. We can make it.”
“Come on, Jeff, it’ll be fun to move,” Kat said. It was like a gift from Heaven for her, finding out we were moving to Colt’s Foot, North Carolina, the town Mom grew up in. Dad grew up there too, but I hadn’t thought about him in years. He died when I was just a kid. I barely remember him, just a ghostly image of wavy brown hair and twinkling eyes. That’s all I had of him; Mom couldn’t handle having pictures of Dad around the house. She said they were too painful for her. We never talked about him. My father died in a car wreck before we’d had a chance to do all of the stuff dads are good for, but I didn’t let it get me down.
You don’t miss something you never really had.
At least I didn’t.
Mom had tears in her eyes, but her voice was strong and steady. “I’ve applied everywhere, honey. Nobody’s hiring around here. We’re all out of choices.”
I said just as firmly, “You can do what you want to, but I’m not going!”
Kat said, “Of course you are. You’re not old enough to stay here all by yourself. You’re only seventeen, Jeff. It’s not like you can live alone.”
“I won’t be by myself. Mrs. Pickman told me I could live with Jim and stay in town. They’ve got a spare room, and she swears it won’t be any extra trouble.” I’d been meaning to save Mrs. Pickman’s offer till the last minute, but I’d just blurted it out.
There was real pain in Mom’s eyes, but I couldn’t let it stop me. After all, she was ready to ruin my life, and I had to fight with whatever I had to stop her from doing it.
It took Mom a full minute to get her emotions under control before she trusted herself to speak.
It was the longest minute of my life.
When she finally managed it, there was a flat, no nonsense edge in her voice that I’d heard way too many times growing up. She always said that she had to be just a little tougher, being both Mom and Dad to us, and she proved it in a thousand ways.
Mom said, “I know it’s not going to be easy, but we don’t have any choice. I’m not breaking up my family, and we just can’t afford to live here, anymore. My father has agreed to take us in, and we’re going, Jeff. All of us.”
I shook my head. “You do what you want. I’m staying here.”
So I moved to Colt’s Foot with Mom and Kat. Big shock, huh? Without Mom’s permission, I couldn’t stay behind, and there was no way I could play football without a signed transfer of guardianship; I’d looked it up in the county eligibility rule book.
I couldn’t wait till I turned eighteen. Then nobody was ever going to tell me what to do again.
Chapter 2
Jim stayed overnight before moving day to help us load the U Haul truck Mom was going to drive to Colt’s Foot. I got to drive the family car, a second hand Subaru with over a hundred and fifty thousand miles on it. Kat had been pushing to ride with me, but Mom put her foot down and I was going to get to drive alone. It wasn’t much, but at least it was something. I had a dozen CDs for the trip and was ready to crank the volume up and try to forget about my troubles.
We’d loaded the van with all of our stuff except mine. I was having a hard time giving in to the idea that I was actually being dragged to another state against my will.
Jim looked into my room and saw the pitiful little stack of four boxes I’d barely managed to fill. “Hey, I thought you were going to wait for me before you started loading your stuff into the van.”
“I did,” I said with small smile.
“You live light don’t you, Jeff? I couldn’t get all my junk in four boxes with a trash compactor and a crowbar.”
I’d been surprised by how few things I’d accumulated over the years that really meant something to me, too. I guess I just wasn’t the sentimental type.
“This is all I need.”
As we each picked up two boxes, Jim said for the hundredth time that day, “You are getting one raw deal. We’re going to be awesome this year. With you, we might even have gone undefeated.”
Jim had been the one who’d gotten me interested in football in the first place. He’d pushed and pushed me in the eighth grade to join until I’d finally given in. It took nearly the whole season before I found out for myself what he loved so much about it. We’d been playing our last game in a freak storm of spitting snow, the ground a frozen slush of rain and ice, and we were down three points with a minute left. The other team had to punt, and Jim managed to get a hand on the ball just as it left the kicker’s foot.
Suddenly I saw the muddy ball in front of me, and without thinking I scooped it up and rumbled into the end zone. It wasn’t just scoring the winning touchdown that meant so much to me; it was the way my teammates had rushed to me to celebrate afterwards. I’d never felt like I was truly a part of anything until that moment, and I’d wished it would last forever.
I still had the game ball Coach gave me later in the locker room; it was one of the few things in one of the boxes I was holding.
Jim must have been reading my thoughts. “So, you taking the game ball with you?”
I grinned. “You know it.”
As we walked out to the truck, he returned my smile. “By all rights, that ball should be half mine. After all, you couldn’t have been a hero without me.” We’d had the very same discussion a thousand times before.
“Tell you what,” I said. “Why don’t we cut it in half? That way you’ll always have something to remember me by.”
He shook his head, honestly surprised by my suggestion. “Naw, you’d better keep it all for yourself. It’ll give you something for show and tell in your new school.”
“Funny,” I said as we walked outside.
I stored the boxes in the back of the truck, turning away from Jim so he wouldn’t see the tears in my eyes. I’d been knocked down by bruisers on the football field, I’d even broken my nose twice and never shed a tear, but all of a sudden I was turning on the waterworks. I pretended to organize the boxes, though mine were the last to go in. Our apartment wasn’t home anymore; it was just an empty, tired little place ready for the next family.
Mom saved me as she came out and gave Jim a big hug. “Thanks for all your help, Jimmy. We couldn’t have done it without you.”
“You’re welcome, Mrs. Swann,” he said softly. Mom’s the only one who still calls him Jimmy, but he lets her slide with it.
Mom turned to me. “Jeff, we’ve got a lot of miles to cover today. We’d better get going.”
“Just a second, Mom.” I turned to my best friend in the world, a guy I’d had a million conversations with about everything from the Super Bowl to which was better, french fries or onion rings, and suddenly I couldn’t think of a single thing to say to him.
I don’t know who it shocked more, him or me, but I suddenly threw my arms around him and hugged Jim with all my might.
“I’m going to miss you,” I said, the tears flowing freely.
“Yeah, me, too,” he choked out.
Kat started to say something, but Mom pulled her into the cab of the U Haul. It probably saved my little sister’s life.
As he pulled away from me, Jim said, “Send me a program with your name in it. I want to frame it.”
“I might not even play,” I said.
“You going to let all that practicing go to waste? I don’t think so.”
I wiped my eyes with the back of my sleeve, and saw Jim doing the same thing. How do you thank someone for always being there for you? What are the right words?
I finally just gave up.
“It’s been real,” I said.
Chapter 3
“You shouldn’t have come back, Trina.”
For a second I couldn’t figure out where the voice was coming from. I was in the basement trying to make a room out of my grandfather’s hobby shop, and I wasn’t having much luck. There was a sofa bed down there, an old recliner that didn’t recline and a black and white TV that only got three channels. He didn’t even have cable! How was I supposed to live like that?
I found a vent buried behind some boxes. When I moved a few of them, the voices were much clearer.
I heard my Mom say, “Dad, I had no choice. I thought you understood.” Was she crying? It happened so rarely, at least when Kat and I were around, I couldn’t be sure at first.
I held my breath, afraid to miss a single word.
Grandpa said, “Girl, the past was good and buried. You don’t think coming back to town’s going to dig it up again? You left for a reason, remember?”
Mom said, “We had nowhere else to go.” She paused a second, then added, “Besides, it’s old news. Nobody’s going to even remember.”
Remember what? What was the big secret Grandpa was afraid of?
In a harsher voice than I’d ever heard him use, Grandpa said, “Don’t you believe it, not for one second. Colt’s Foot has a long memory, and you can bet showing up here is going to trigger a lot of tongues. Take my advice, tell the boy first, see how he handles it. Then you can talk to Kat. You owe them that much.”
“Just drop it, Dad,” Mom said in her chilliest voice.
It had no effect on Grandpa. “I’m telling you, you’re making a mistake; the same one you’ve been making all these years, Trina.”
“Even if that’s true, it’s my mistake to make,” I heard her say as her words started to fade. I pressed my ear closer to the vent, hoping to catch what was going on.
My grandfather’s voice boomed, “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Out for some air,” Mom shouted.
Then I heard the front door slam.
I was almost ready to give up when I heard Grandpa talking to himself. “She’s just as stubborn as she was when she left. I just hope the kids don’t have to pay for it this time.”
What in the world had they been talking about? It had felt like being in the middle of some kind of weird movie where everybody’s speaking English but nobody’s making any sense.
The only thing I had recognized was Mom’s tone of voice at the end. I should, I use it enough myself. For the life of me, Mom sounded more like a rebellious teenager than a mother of two.
One thing was obvious; whatever the secret she was hiding was, she wasn’t going to be the one to tell me.
Maybe if I worked it right, Grandpa would.
He was still in the kitchen when I hurried upstairs. I figured if I could catch him fast enough, he might just give in and tell me what the fight had been about.
He was sitting at the kitchen table, a cup of coffee sitting in front of him. Grandpa’s hair was as thick as mine, though his was silver while mine’s still dark brown. His wrinkled and spotted hands still looked strong as they surrounded the cup, barely touching it. His gray eyes were focused on the coffee, almost as if it was some kind of crystal ball. What he saw in there was lost to me.
He seemed to jump a little when he noticed I was watching him.
“Getting settled in, Jeff?” The smile he gave me was obviously strained.
“Yeah, it’s going to be fine living downstairs,” I lied as I grabbed a soda from the fridge. It was a generic cola, not even a name brand! I popped it open and took a seat beside him.
“Where’s Mom,” I asked, carefully avoiding his eyes. Grandpa had a way of looking at me and seeing the truth; it had always scared me, even as a little kid.
“She went for a walk.” That was all he said as his gaze went back to the coffee in front of him.
“Something wrong, Grandpa,” I asked carefully.
“Why,” he asked softly.
“I heard the door slam,” I replied. I had to be careful how I brought it up, but I wasn’t about to just let things go before I found out what was going on.
“Must have been the wind,” he said, fighting to keep his voice level.
Come on, who did he think he was dealing with? I wasn’t a kid anymore. Then again, I couldn’t admit to him that I’d been eavesdropping. He must not have realized I could hear them, and it might be the only way I ever heard anything around there if they kept shutting me out.
“Mom’s been upset since we got here,” I said calmly. “Is there some reason we shouldn’t have come back to Colt’s Foot?” There, I’d laid it out for him. All he had to do was take the bait.
He looked at me sharply. I could feel his eyes burning into me, but I wasn’t about to meet his gaze. As I carefully studied the label on my soda, I could almost sense the struggle inside him.
Tell me, tell me, I shouted at him in my mind.
“Jeff, there’s something .”
He was interrupted by the front door slamming. We both looked up and saw Mom standing in the doorway.
“What are you two talking about,” Mom asked harshly.
“Trina, the boy and I can have a conversation, can’t we,” Grandpa said. “We have a lot of catching up to do.”
She didn’t answer him. “Jeff, go to your room. I need to speak with your grandfather.”
“Mom, I’m seventeen years old. Don’t you think I’m getting a little too old to be sent out of the room so the grownups can talk?”
Grandpa started to agree, I could see it by the way he started to nod when Mom said, “You’re still my son, and you’ll do what I say! Now, Jeff!”
I got up, leaving the soda on the table. If she thought she could blow me off that easily, she was dead wrong. I hustled down the steps, hurrying to my vent. I wasn’t too thrilled about spying on them, but Mom had made the decision for me by not telling me to my face. One way or another, I was going to find out what was really going on.
The only problem was, by the time I got back to my room, Mom was saying, “Dad, I don’t want to talk about it anymore. That’s final.”
“Your mother would ,” Grandpa started to say when Mom cut him off.
“Don’t you think I miss her, too, Dad? Not a day goes by that I don’t wish I could talk to her.” Grandma had been dead three years. It was the oddest thing. She’d been making an apple pie in the kitchen when she’d suddenly collapsed onto the floor. Grandpa had been downstairs puttering in his shop; he didn’t realize anything was wrong until he smelled the pie burning in the oven. The doctors assured him that even if he’d been standing right beside her he wouldn’t have been able to help her. She’d had an aneurysm in her brain, a tiny ticking time bomb just waiting to explode. I don’t think Grandpa believed them, though. You could see it in his eyes at the funeral. He blamed himself for leaving her to die alone.
His voice was choked when he answered Mom. “I’m sorry, Honey. You do what you think is best. I won’t interfere anymore. They’re your kids, you should raise them the best way you see fit.”
There wasn’t anything else after that.
Great. It looked like I’d just lost my chance of finding out what was going on. I wasn’t about to let that stop me, though.
One way or another, I was going to uncover the big secret Mom was so afraid of me discovering.
In the next two days, I didn’t come any closer to finding anything out than I had downstairs by the vent. Whatever the secret Mom and Grandpa held between them, it didn’t look like they were in any mood to share.
I finally had the basement room in some kind of order. I’d moved all of the boxes away from the vent and out into the hallway, scrubbed the floor, then laid down an old carpet Grandpa gave me. Earlier he had talked me into painting the room to make it homier, so we’d moved the few pieces of furniture out and had coated the ceiling with a dark blue I picked out that he claimed made the room look like a cave. I painted the walls a lighter shade of blue, that helped some, but I was afraid he was right. Still, I had something in mind, and I needed the dark blue for my background. I picked up a quart of Glow in the dark paint from the home center and took out one of my star charts. As carefully as I could, I recreated the map on my ceiling.
If it turned out as well as I hoped, I’d be sleeping under the stars.
As we moved the furniture back in, Grandpa looked around and said, “Well, it surely looks different, I’ll give you that.”
“Just wait,” I said. “It’ll be awesome.”
“I’m willing to keep an open mind.”
Mom popped in holding a tray with two glasses of iced tea. “I thought you two might be thirsty.”
As she put the tray down on the table, she looked around. “Well, it’s certainly different,” she finally said.
Grandpa finished a sip of his drink, then said, “I like it.”
I didn’t know if he was doing it to get at Mom, or if he really did like it, but I didn’t care. It suited me fine. I looked out the small window, my only natural light in the room. The sun had set earlier, and the night was just starting to creep in. Had there been enough time to trigger the paint?
There was only one way to find out. “Sit down, you two. I want to show you something.”
“What’s going on,” Mom asked as she sat beside me.
Instead of answering, I flipped off the light and stared at the ceiling. At first I was really disappointed! There wasn’t much of a glow at all from the star field I’d so carefully painted in.
But then just as I was getting ready to flip the light on, I started to see it much better. My eyes must have gotten used to the dark, because the glow seemed quite a bit brighter.
“That is truly something,” Grandpa said as he looked upward.
Mom agreed. “You’ve outdone yourself, Jeff.”
I heard Kat call out from the top of the stairs. “Why is it so dark down there?”
“Come on down, Kat. Be careful,” Mom added as I heard my little sister tromp down the steps.
She walked in, glanced up at the ceiling, then said, “Cool,” dismissing my hard work with the wave of her hand. She added, “I’m hungry, Mom. Any chance of a snack?”
That broke the mood. I reached up and flipped on the light, and I had to shield my eyes for a second until they got used to the brightness again.
Mom said, “There’s time for a quick bite, but then you have to go to bed. Tomorrow’s a big day.”
I’d almost forgotten. Tomorrow was the first day of school. I’d tried to call the football coach, but he’d been out of town for a meeting, so I had to wait to see him at school. I’d toyed with the idea of just giving up and forgetting all about sports, but I guess it ran too deep inside me. So much had changed the last few days, it would be nice to have at least one thing in my life I could depend on. Besides, I figured maybe if I played ball I could make friends faster, and I sorely missed my buddies back home. I’d talked to Jim a few times since we’d gotten to Colt’s Foot, but it just wasn’t the same.
Both of us knew I wasn’t coming back.
It was time to move on.
I just hoped there was a spot on the team for me.
Chapter 4
“Swann, Jeffrey,” the teacher called out at the start of last period.
I raised my hand and said, “It’s Jeff,” for the thousandth time that day. Why had Mom signed me up as Jeffrey? I hadn’t used my full name since the first grade.
The teacher looked at me a second, as if expecting me to make trouble, then turned back to her roll book with a shrug. “Timmons, Alice,” she called as she moved onto the next name.
I hated being the new kid. I didn’t know a soul at Colt’s Foot High School, commonly known around campus as just plain Colt. Nobody had made any real effort to be friendly, either. There were groups that had been chosen a long time ago: Jocks, Nerds, Peps and Outcasts. At the moment, I felt like I belonged in the last group, but I didn’t wear all black, I didn’t drink or do drugs, and I didn’t want to kill my mom, no matter how mad I was at her for moving me to this desolate place. It was funny, but back at Jefferson I’d moved between several groups, going from the Jocks to the Nerds without giving it a second thought. Sure, I could play football, but I also had a brain I loved to use for science. It was my favorite, and astronomy was the very best. I’d brought my telescope with me; it had been safely packed away in one of the four boxes I’d brought with me.
At lunchtime I couldn’t approach the Jocks, I had no standing with them yet, and the Nerds must have been hanging out somewhere else. Out of all the kids, and Colt was huge compared to Jefferson High, there was no room for me.
I ate by myself.
What really griped me was that Kat had already made a new best friend, a skinny girl with jet black hair and big glasses.
Kat called out, “Jeff, you can eat with us.”
I just waved, then threw what was left of my lunch in the trashcan. All I wanted was to get out of there, to go back home and leave this nightmare, but that wasn’t going happen.
Finally, the bell rang ending the day. I headed straight for the gym. I found the coach, a big muscular man with a graying crewcut, going through some paperwork at his desk.
I knocked on the doorframe, aware that several of the football players were watching me. They were getting into pads, and I couldn’t wait to join them.
“Don’t just stand there,” the coach said without bothering to look at me.
“My name’s Jeff Swann,” I said. “I want to try out for the team.”
He looked startled for a second, then said, “Sorry, kid,” as his gaze went back to the papers on his desk. “Tryouts were last week. You can try again next year.”
“I won’t be here next year, and I wasn’t here last week,” I said, nearly shouting.
That got his attention. “And why is that?”
“I just moved to town three days ago,” I explained. “I started at linebacker at my old school.” It wasn’t a lie. Tom Nabors had been the starter until he’d broken his leg. That had put me in his spot on Varsity, and I’d done a good enough job to get mentioned in the newspaper a time or two.
Coach looked me over, then said, “Well, you’re not big enough to play linebacker here.” Before I could protest, he held up a hand. “I guess I could use you on the practice squad, if you’re interested.”
The practice squad? That was for the losers who couldn’t make the real team! Still, it would be a way to get back onto the field. “I’ll take it,” I said.
He nodded as he stood. “Good to have you aboard. I’m Coach Hastings.” He bellowed over my head, “Randy, get in here.”
A smaller boy with thick glasses popped into his office. “You called, Coach?”
“We’ve got a new player. Get him a practice uniform and a red jersey.”
He went back to his paperwork, ignoring me. I followed Randy into the locker room. A couple of guys were watching me, and I met their stares with nods and smiles. I might as well have been smiling at the moon for all of the replies I got.
I’d just have to introduce myself on the field.
It was a good thing I was in shape from all of Coach Harrison’s two a day practices back home. I finished the sprints near the head of the pack and Coach finally looked at me.
We went through some drills, exercises mostly, then he called for scrimmage. I went to the sidelines, but he called out, “Swann,” so I trotted over to him.
“You really started at linebacker?”
I nodded.
He said, “Go in for Ridley. Let’s see what you can do.”
I started to trot toward the part of the field where the starting defense was playing the practice squad offense when he blew his whistle and everybody looked up, including me.
“You’re going to wrong way,” he said as he motioned me to the practice defense.
I ran over to the other red jerseys, trying to ignore all of the laughter.
“Ridley, I’m in for you,” I said and waited for one of the players to leave.
Instead of the resentment at being replaced I’d expected, the kid smiled at me through his facemask. “Thank the Lord, I’m free at last.”
A black guy beside me held out his hand. “Don’t pay any attention to him. I’m Eric.”
I shook it. “My name’s Jeff.”
“Welcome to the scrubs, Jeff. There’s always room for another casualty.”
“If you two are done, we’re about to get our butts kicked,” another kid said.
Everybody looked expectantly at me, but I said, “I just got here.”
Eric laughed. “Why don’t I call this play for you?” He did and everybody moved into position.
“What do I do,” I asked him as the offense lined up for the play.
“Just don’t get killed,” he said as the quarterback started checking the play at the line.
As Eric called out his own play, I put myself in the gap between the two guards, right in position over the center.
Just then I saw the line shift and knew they were running this one right at me.
What I didn’t realize was that the two defensive guards in front of me were in on it, too.
As the ball was snapped, both guards dove into the dirt, leaving me facing three players, each one bigger than me.
I may have been hit harder than that in my life, but I sure don’t remember it.
Eric trotted over, leaned over me as I lay on my back, and said, “Welcome to the Colts.” Then he offered me a hand up.
I took it as I picked a clod of grass out of my facemask with my other hand.
I didn’t have to look over to know that Coach was watching.
In the defensive huddle, I said, “Okay, that was fun. This time let’s stop them and turn the joke around.”
Everybody looked at the two guards, who hesitated a second, then nodded their agreement.
Eric slapped me on the back. “I think we’ve got ourselves a winner here, fellas.”
As the quarterback checked off again, I hoped my teammates were behind me this time.
When the ball was snapped, the guards slammed their men and drove them backwards. I slipped past the center and sacked the quarterback before he got two steps into the pocket.
We were still congratulating ourselves when Coach’s whistle blew.
His face looked like it was going to explode when he yelled, “First team offense, ten laps.”
There were some grumbles, and he had to blow his whistle again. “Now!” he shouted, and they were off.
Coach smiled at the red squad. “Okay, guys, go hit the showers. You just earned it.”
I started to take off with the rest of them when Coach yelled, “Swann, over here.”
Oh, no. Had I done the wrong thing, sacking the starting quarterback? I couldn’t afford to get into any trouble, not the first day of practice.
He said, “That was smooth, the way you slid in there. Let me ask you, son, was it luck or skill?”
“A little of both,” I admitted.
He nodded, then smiled. “I think so, too. Listen, I need to make sure your paperwork checks out, but I think we might have a spot for you on the team.”
“Thanks, Coach,” I said, probably with a little too much enthusiasm.
Before I could get away, Coach said, “Don’t let one tackle go to your head. Every job is open every second. Never forget it.”
I nodded and headed for the showers.
It looked like I was going to get my chance after all.
Eric was just getting dressed when I walked in. He gave me a high five, then said, “Man, you should have seen the look on Murphy’s face when you put him on his back.”
One of the other guys said, “The pretty boy was not happy, that’s for sure.”
“I couldn’t have done it without you guys,” I said.
Eric held both palms forward. “Don’t give us any of the credit. You’re going to have to take the heat all by yourself.”
I grabbed a quick shower and was just finished getting dressed when the rest of the team came clomping in with their cleats on.
There were a few sullen stares directed at me until the quarterback walked in.
“I think you broke my tailbone,” he said.
I could play it two ways, and I knew the one I chose would brand me for the rest of my time at Colt. I decided to go for it. Backing down would make me a doormat, and that was something I wouldn’t take from anyone.
“I thought I heard something crack,” I said, my grim look matching his.
We held the stare for ten full seconds, neither one of us willing to back down. Then Eric walked over and slapped us both on the back. “If you two are going to dance, I’ll be glad to sing a little song for you.”
Murphy started to smile just before I broke out laughing. With the tension gone, the quarterback offered his hand. “Name’s Murphy. That was a good shot.”
Now I could afford to back down a little. “Yeah, well, I got lucky.”
“Maybe,” he said as he headed to his locker. “Or maybe you’re just good.”
I started out the door. Maybe Colt wouldn’t be such a bad place after all.
And then I ran right into Neal Hearst.
Chapter 5
Neal put a hand on my chest and shoved me back into the locker room. “Watch yourself, rookie.”
I tried to get around him, but he wouldn’t let me pass.
He said, “That was a cheap hit on Murphy. We need our quarterback, you jerk.”
“What, are you his personal bodyguard,” I asked. There was something about the guy I couldn’t stand right off the bat, and I could tell the feeling was mutual.
“No, my name’s Neal Hearst. I’m the real middle linebacker on this team,” he said.
I should have kept my mouth shut, but I couldn’t help myself. “Today, maybe. We’ll see about tomorrow.”
I could feel his stare boring holes into my back as I walked away. The only way to beat a bully is to face him down; I’d learned that the first day of kindergarten even without a dad around to teach me. The only question was, was Neal Hearst the kind of bully who would back down with words, or was I going to have to fight him to get him off me?
Either way, I wasn’t about to let him push me around.
I heard somebody calling me from the parking lot, and turned around to find Eric running toward me.
“Man, why’d you take off so fast?”
“No reason.”
He looked into my eyes and said, “I bet you just met your competition.”
“He doesn’t look like much competition to me,” I said, still angry about the way Hearst had treated me.
“Then you must be blind. Do you know what the papers call him? Hearst the hearse, cause of all the bodies he has carted off.”
“I’m not afraid of him, Eric.”
“Maybe you should be,” he said.
I grinned. “Yeah, maybe I should. You want to grab a Coke or something?”
“Naw, I’d better be getting home. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow.”
Kat was in the kitchen eating a snack with her new friend from school. I dove into the fridge for something to eat myself when Kat said, “Jeff, this is Melissa. She lives next door. She’s a Junior, too.”
I didn’t even bother to pull my head out of the refrigerator. “Hey,” I mumbled as I retrieved the fixings to make a sandwich.
There was a knock on the screen door, and I pulled my head out to see the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen in my life.
I walked to the door in a daze and said, “Hi.”
She pointed to my hand. “No thanks, I just ate.”
That’s when I realized I was still holding a jar of pickles in my hand. I put them on the table. “Can I help you?”
“Mom sent me over to retrieve my little brat sister.”
“I heard that, Diana,” Melissa called.
“Come on, kid, you know you’re supposed to come straight home after school.”
I held the door open. “Why don’t you come in? I was just making a snack.”
She shook her head slightly. “You’re a backup on the team, right? Sorry, Jack, I’m sure you’re a nice guy and everything, but I only go out with starters. Right now I’m dating the quarterback.”
“I wasn’t asking you out on a date,” I said, “I was just inviting you in.”
Melissa walked up to her sister and said, “His name’s Jeff, not Jack. Honestly, Diana, don’t you even listen?”
She waved a hand in the air. “Whatever. All I know is that you’re supposed to be home doing your work.”
Melissa said, “See you later, Kat.” Then she turned to me and said, “Bye, Jeff,” making it a point to get my name right.
After they were gone, Kat looked at me and said, “I don’t get it.”
“What don’t you get,” I said as I took the first bite of my sandwich.
“What’s so special about you? The way Melissa was going on and on, I expected to see a halo or something.”
I threw a potato chip at her. “Grow up, squirt.”
She caught it and crunched it. “You first.”
Great. I’d been in school one day and I’d already made an enemy and had an admirer.
It was the wrong sister, if you asked me.
“Jeff, there’s somebody here to see you,” Kat called down the stairs.
“Send him on down,” I said.
I was half expecting Eric to come bouncing down the steps. Instead, it was Slick, one of the guards who’d torpedoed on me during scrimmage.
“You took off before I could talk to you,” he said. “I wanted to let you know there were no hard feelings about the dive Harry and I took.”
I laughed. “No hard feelings at all. At least not on my end of it. Some guy named Hearst didn’t think our next play was so funny, though.”
Slick’s eyes narrowed. “I’d stay away from him, if I were you. He’s pretty tough.”
“Yeah, well, so am I. I’m going after his job, and I told him so.”
Slick started laughing. “So that’s what he was so hot about!” He looked at me carefully, then said, “all I can say is, good luck.” He studied the basement, then said, “Man, you get to live down here?”
“What do mean, get to,” I asked.
He pointed to the door. “Jeff, you’ve got you’re own way in and out. Where’s your room?”
I pointed to the door and Slick walked in to check it out. “I can’t believe they let you paint the ceiling and walls like this. Your folks must be pretty cool.”
“My mom is. My dad’s been dead a long time. We’re here living with my grandfather.”
“I’m sorry, Man,” Slick said. “I didn’t mean to .”
I interrupted. “Not a problem. So what’s the scoop on Coach Hastings?”
“He’s okay. Matter of fact, he used to be pretty good. He played one preseason for the Rams, course they were in Los Angeles back then.”
“What happened?”
“Blew out his knee, from what I hear. So, you really think you can knock out the hearse?”
I shrugged. “You heard Coach, every position is open. You could move up too, Slick.”
“I don’t know, Man.”
“Hey, I’ve seen you play, remember? What have you got to lose by trying?”
“Let’s see, my teeth, my pretty nose, a healthy bone or two; besides that, nothing.”
I laughed. “Think about it, okay?”
“Yeah, maybe,” he said as he stroked his chin. “Well, I’ve got to scoot. I’m going to be late.”
Before he could go, I said, “What’s the story with the girl next door? Her name’s Diana something.”
Slick’s eyes lit up. “That’s Diana Franklin. She’s fine, but hands off, my friend. She’s Murphy’s girl. Don’t you just know the head cheerleader always hooks up with the star player?”
I grinned at him. “Well, maybe there’s going to be a new star in town.”
Slick laughed. “I like your attitude, Man, even if you don’t have much sense. Later, Jeff.”
“Later, Slick,” I called out as he took off out the back door.
Two minutes later Mom called out, “Jeff, would your friend like to stay for dinner?”
“He’s already gone, Mom. He slipped out the back way.”
She came down the steps, frowning at the door. “We’ll have to do something about that.”
“What do you mean,” I asked, my voice as cold as the feeling in my heart.
“Jeffrey, we can’t have you coming and going when you please. You’re only seventeen.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. You drag me to some hole in the mountains away from all my friends, and the one cool thing I’ve got here you want to take away from me. I swear, prison would be better than this place.”
I didn’t know what I’d said to set her off, but Mom went rigid! Her whole body just locked up, and her face went as white as a sheet.
“What did I say,” I asked.
Mom just shook her head and waved a hand at me for silence. In a second she was back up the stairs and I heard the door slam shut.
Now what had I done?
Chapter 6
In a week, I was starting to feel like I’d been at Colt forever. I was getting used to the classrooms, the kids and the teachers. Playing football was what had saved me.
I was sitting in Civics, the last class of the day, when Slick nudged me. He’d swapped seats and had ended up beside me the day after he came over to the house. He’d said it was better than sitting in back with Neal Hearst.
Slick whispered, “So what number are you going for after school today?”
I looked over at him and grinned. “I kind of like 58.”
His eyes got round. “Man, are you nuts? That’s the hearse’s number.”
“Coach said we have to fight for our numbers every year. That’s the one I’m going for.” Actually, I wasn’t as calm about it all as I pretended to be. I had butterflies in my stomach thinking about going into the ring one on one with Neal Hearst, but his bullying hadn’t gotten any better. I’d tried backing him down with words, but it hadn’t worked. It was time to step up and show him that I wasn’t afraid of him, and the ring was the perfect place to do it.
I thought Slick had been lying when he’d told me how Coach assigned jersey numbers. He chalked out a ring on the ground about six feet around. Two players going for the same number stepped into the ring, and the first one knocked out of the circle lost the number.
It sounded like some kind of gladiator nonsense to me, but since Hearst and I were both on defense, it was the only way to butt heads. I was penciled in for second team behind him, but I was doing everything in my power to take his job. Eric and Slick had both moved up to second team from the practice squad too, much to their surprise.
And today we were fighting for the jersey numbers we would wear all year.
Mrs. Meadows tapped on the board to get our attention, then said, “As many of you know, the town of Colt’s Foot is celebrating its one hundredth anniversary this year. Each of you will choose an event in the town’s history and make an oral presentation in two weeks.” There were groans all over the room, mine included. How was I going to have time to do her report when it took every bit of strength I had on the football field? We hadn’t even played our first game yet; that was tomorrow night against Pinestem.
“Enough,” she said as she tapped the board again. “I expect a good job, people. The report will represent one fourth of your grade for this term.”
Before we could protest any more, the bell rang and class was over. I wondered if Mrs. Meadows had planned it that way, or if she just had a sense of perfect timing.
I grabbed my books and shoved them into my bookbag. The moment I’d been looking forward to and dreading at the same time was about to happen: I was going into the ring with a guy they called the hearse.
I kind of expected us to go straight to the ring, but Coach had other ideas. We ran sprints, laps, then did our drills. He still hadn’t called for the ring after that, and I was surprised to hear that we would be running plays. Coach would call a play, we’d go through the motions at half speed, then we’d go full speed with just a little contact. After that, we practiced goal line stands, kick offs and punt returns. I was on all of the special teams since I didn’t start, so I worked harder at the end of practice than any other time.
It was kind of a relief, not facing the ring. I was beat from the workout and ready for the showers.
Instead of dismissing us, though, Coach held up an old coffee can of something and said, “Gentlemen, welcome to the ring.”
Then he shook white powder out in a big circle and I knew we weren’t heading in after all.
It was time for battle.
The first number on the block was 54. I didn’t know if Coach drew them at random or if he had a system, but I was glad I’d get to watch and see how it was done before I had to step in and battle Hearst.
A big guy named Chuck stepped in as Coach held the white jersey over his head, and for a minute I didn’t think anybody was going to challenge him.
Coach said, “I need a victim, I mean a volunteer, or I’ll pick somebody myself.”
Oh, no. I was counting on being able to bide my time and wait for Hearst’s number, but it wasn’t looking good. Somebody shoved me from behind and I had to take a step forward to keep from falling down. I thought for sure I’d had it when somebody else beat me into the ring.
There were a few laughs behind me, and I saw Hearst smiling brightly. There was no doubt in my mind he’d been the one who’d pushed me.
“Back in line, Swann. You’ll have your shot,” Coach said with a smile.
I watched a kid I didn’t recognize line up against Chuck. Chuck looked at the poor kid and growled, and I thought he was going to faint.
It was over in less than a second. Coach blew the whistle and the challenger was flat on his back outside the ring. Chuck walked over to him, brushed him off, then patted him on the shoulder. He said something to him that brightened the kid’s eyes, then Chuck collected his jersey and moved to one side.
One of the guys near me asked the kid what Chuck had said to him.
The kid answered, “He told me it took real guts to face him down in the ring.”
I had to agree with him, but Chuck wasn’t even as big as Hearst was.
It caught me off guard when Coach announced the next number.
“58 is on the block. Who wants it?”
Hearst stepped forward and reached for the jersey.
Before Coach could say a word, I snapped, “It’s not yours yet, chump.”
Was that a smile on Coach’s face? Hearst spun around, looked surprised to see me there, then grinned wickedly. His expression left my blood cold and my mouth as dry as a desert wind.