The Perfect Disaster

by Abby Tyler

  This had been perfect.

  Life was perfect.

  Chapter 14

  The next few weeks went by in a happy haze. Ginny had more Tuesday-night lessons with Roscoe and Carter where twice her dog succeeded with stay when she gave him the command. There were also two more football games, and in one of them, the Eagles actually managed to score a field goal.

  She went on a second date with Carter, back to Branson, because there really wasn’t much to do in Applebottom. They walked along Table Rock Lake and took in a simple and delicious dinner at a seafood place.

  The air grew cold as fall began to give way to the holiday season. Ginny handed out candy to trick-or-treaters, recognizing the children as students from the elementary school, even if they weren’t ones who came into her sensory room for occupational therapy. She was becoming one of those citizens of Applebottom who knew everybody.

  Ginny even ventured into Gertrude and Maude’s pie shop. Maude was there, looking cheerful and sharp in a white apron with their logo stenciled on the front. She served Ginny a slice of their special seasonal pie called Autumn Harmony. It had mixed berries and a strange dark flavor that gave it a savory warmth. Maude told her the secret ingredient was a pinch of curry. Ginny never would have guessed.

  She visited Delilah’s doggy bakery to pick up more treats for training Roscoe and to thank her for the book. Delilah seemed pleased that they were making progress with Roscoe’s manners and had way too many questions about what Carter and Ginny were up to when the dog wasn’t around.

  Apparently they’d been seen driving together out of Applebottom on two occasions. Plus, they’d taken to holding hands on walks. This town missed nothing.

  Homecoming came around. Ginny bought a new bright red Eagles sweatshirt to wear to the game and show support of the home team. By then, she knew quite a few of the faculty members. She sat with Natalie and Carly, and they were joined by some of the teachers from the high school, including the tweedy Andrew McCallister, whom Ginny had run into when she delivered the note to Carter.

  She’d heard he was seeing the cake decorator at one of the shops on the square, and wondered if they had also trouble staying away from the prying eyes of Applebottom. He had asked Carter for advice a week or so ago, a conversation Carter had related to Ginny.

  As the game dragged on, the other teachers peppered her with questions about Carter. Everyone seemed to know they were dating—more proof that there were no secrets in Applebottom.

  It was clear that the coaches picked the weakest possible opponent for Homecoming in hopes they wouldn’t get stomped too hard in front of the alumni who returned to watch the game. Even so, the Eagles were down by nearly thirty points as the game headed into the final quarter.

  Carter looked stalwart and strong down on the field. Ginny’s heart flipped a little each time she took a moment to really take him in. He wore a ball cap and his red windbreaker over black track pants. He walked up and down the sideline, calling out instructions the crowd couldn’t hear. He looked competent and in charge.

  Toby, the quarterback, wasn’t having a stellar game. Over and over, he struggled to find open receivers.

  Ginny had figured out who Toby’s parents were. They usually stood next to chain link fence that separated the bleachers from the field.

  His mother wore a red jersey with Toby’s number five on it. She layered a turtleneck beneath it so as not to cover it. His father sported an Eagles ball cap and shouted encouragements between plays.

  In the last five minutes of the game, a small miracle occurred, and one of the receivers actually managed to catch one of Toby’s passes. They were on their own twenty-five-yard line, and the possibility of the first touchdown of the season was high.

  The spectators jumped to their feet. Ginny moved out of the bleachers to stand at the chain-link fence, a short distance from the quarterback’s parents. She wanted to be near Carter if they did score to see his excitement up close.

  They set up the next play, and she really hoped that Toby would be able to pull off a touchdown. As a freshman, he would have a lot of room to grow. He was the sort of player Carter could build around if he wanted.

  Not that Ginny talked to him about football. Not after the disaster that one Tuesday night.

  The play began, and Toby dropped back, looking for an open receiver. There wasn’t one.

  His father cupped his hands around his mouth, and yelled, “Just run with it. Toby. You know what to do.”

  It sounded as though Toby’s struggle had been discussed around the dinner table. His father must have told him to defy whatever Carter might have told him to do and make a play on his own.

  Now that Ginny was so close to the field, she could see the hesitation in the young player. He had his father instructing him to do one thing, and his coach another.

  He threw the ball out of bounds to avoid getting sacked.

  His mom looked disgusted. “I can’t believe that coach won’t allow him to just keep it. They could actually score.”

  “I know,” the father said. “If I could have him on any other team, I would.”

  The mom gripped the fence. “We’d have to move forty miles away to go somewhere else.”

  Come on, Carter, Ginny thought. Let the boy have a big moment. Let the team score for Homecoming. She had every confidence he could do it.

  They set up for another play. This time Toby handed the ball off and the play ended abruptly when the running back got plowed by the defense. They only had one more shot at moving forward before they would have to attempt a field goal. With the kicker they had, it was unlikely the team would score at this distance.

  “Keep the ball!” the dad yelled.

  Carter heard him and turned, a flash of anger crossing his face.

  Toby missed none of that. Poor kid. He was caught between the two men he admired most.

  The teams lined up for third down. Ginny hung on to the crosshatch of the fence, anxious about how the play would go.

  The center snapped the ball to Toby. He dropped back, looking for someone to throw it to. Still nobody.

  Keep it and go, Ginny thought. She didn’t realize she was yelling it until the quarterback’s mom looked over at her in surprise.

  Toby tucked the ball under his arm and shot forward. He skirted two defenders and pivoted quickly to avoid another. He made it almost twenty yards before he was brought down on the eight-yard line.

  The fans went nuts. The students screamed and jumped in the stands. The band kicked off the fight song. They had four more downs to try and score.

  The energy was palpable. Ginny glanced over at Toby’s parents, who were whispering to each other. Then she looked out at Carter. He had his hands on his hips. Just as the play clock was about to wind down, he signaled for his players to call a time out.

  The boys circled for their instructions. The track put some distance between the stands and the edge of the field, so she couldn’t hear what they said.

  But she could guess. Toby was looking down at the ground. Carter was gesturing wildly, as if he were angry.

  They set up for the next play. With less than ten yards to go, it would make most sense to keep pushing forward with a running play. Trying to pop up a pass with the short distance and their less-than-stellar catching history seemed unwise.

  And sure enough, Toby handed the ball off to the running back, who got instantly creamed for negative yards. He was tackled pretty heavily, and the audible oh from the stands washed over the field.

  The energy would drain quickly this way. But what did Ginny know? She wasn’t a coach. And what she did understand about football was heavily tainted by her father’s opinions regarding a professional sports team.

  She tried to relax, resting her arms on the fence, and waited to see what would happen.

  Toby drew back again, almost seeming as though he was going to pass high.

  But then Ginny saw his eyes go determined. She knew what he was thinking. She saw th
e empty space between him and the goal line. Any second, it would fill back in. Any moment, he could be sacked by a defender breaking through.

  “Go for it, Toby!” Ginny screamed. Then clapped her hand over her mouth. But his parents heard her, and began the cry.

  “Keep it, Toby! Keep it!”

  The crowd took up the chant

  “Keep it, Toby!”

  Carter did not turn to look at the stands. But his hands moved to his hips, and his shoulders tensed. She could feel the anger wafting off him even from behind.

  Toby did what the crowd suggested, shooting forward. He ducked away from the arms of the only defender who had noticed him come through, and crossed the goal line.

  The stands erupted into a roar. Ginny glanced behind her, smiling at the students and faculty and parents and fans all hugging each other and shouting. The band struck up with the fight song again, playing with considerably more enthusiasm. The cheerleaders were only a few feet away, jumping and screaming and crying.

  Carter’s posture didn’t change as the team set up for the extra point kick. No doubt he would hear from a lot of people about the quality of this quarterback and that he should just let him show off his skill.

  Ginny wished she’d kept her mouth shut. She felt torn between her loyalty to Carter and what was obviously good for the team.

  But what if Toby could be the catalyst to turn the team around? Hadn’t Carter just talked about how a good coach can rally a quality team even as the great players left and new ones came along?

  Maybe it was Carter who needed to grow. If she could see it, the principal would be able to see it, and the school board. The other coaches. The people who could hire or fire him. They would all see it.

  The kicker, perhaps inspired by the unexpected score, focused in and actually made the extra point. This set off a renewed fervor of cheering and screaming from the stands. There was no chance that they would actually win the game. They were still down by twenty points with only a few minutes left. But numbers on the boards were about as much as they could ask for.

  Toby didn’t attempt any more quarterback keepers. But the excitement remained high. Toby’s parents seemed more or less placated, and they accepted handshakes and well wishes from faculty and students as they filtered past them from the stands.

  Natalie came up behind Ginny. “Are you gonna wait for Coach?” she asked.

  “I think so.”

  “See you Monday, then,” she said. “Good luck. He should be happy. They scored.”

  Ginny nodded, her eyes going back to Carter. He followed the team off the field.

  She hurried along the chain-link fence to catch up, so that she could see him as he passed by.

  What she didn’t expect was his dark glare.

  Ginny tried to ignore it. “Good game, Coach,” she said. “Your first touchdown! It must feel great.”

  “I heard you,” he said. He stopped in his tracks, causing a player who was trailing behind to smash into him in confusion.

  The boy walked around him, glancing back and making a grimace at Carter’s stony expression.

  Other fans and parents crowded up to shake Carter’s hand, but he didn’t even look at them. His eyes were on Ginny.

  “You knew, and you still encouraged him. You encouraged him to defy me. You.”

  Ginny had to take a step back, the anger coming off of him was so palpable.

  “Great game, Coach!” someone shouted. “Keep it up.”

  “Carter,” she said, trying to keep the shake out of her voice. She really didn’t want to have this conversation in the midst of all these people. “I’m sorry. I like football. I just shout things. It’s part of the game.”

  “You deliberately got the crowd riled up against me.”

  Ginny could barely breathe. “I’m sorry,” she said again, even though she wasn’t totally sure that she was. This whole argument was madness. It was a football game.

  But not to him.

  Ginny took another step back and was swallowed into the crowd, which moved forward to greet the coach.

  He plastered on a fake smile and shook their hands and took pictures as requested.

  Ginny fell farther back until she couldn’t see him anymore.

  Her stomach trembled. Carter expected loyalty from her. His job could be difficult. So could Ginny’s. Sometimes parents, fellow therapists, colleagues didn’t quite understand what you might be doing in a specific case. You counted on those who did understand your methods and the reasoning behind your actions.

  Carter had counted on Ginny to be that person. To understand why he instructed his player to do what he did. And she hadn’t done that. She had very publicly raised up the cry that Carter was wrong without even asking his reasoning.

  Ginny turned and ran to her car. She wanted away from the stadium lights, the people, the happy students excited for how the game had gone. She wanted solitude. Her own four walls. And her dog.

  That was all she wanted.

  Escape.

  Chapter 15

  Ginny didn’t receive a text or a call or any notes in the days after the game. By Tuesday, when she and Carter would normally meet by for the dog lesson, she didn’t really expect him to show.

  Five o’clock arrived and passed with no knock at her door. Despite the bitter cold, Ginny bundled up and took Roscoe out for the short walk to the park. The dog dragged her up the hill, seeming to know they were supposed to find Carter, and upon not seeing him at the top, let out a desperate howl that struck her to the bone.

  Ginny completely understood how Roscoe felt.

  They shivered as they hurried back to their house, the heater, and blankets. She didn’t even write Carter to ask why he hadn’t come.

  She knew.

  On Friday afternoon, Ginny headed up to the high school as usual. Her feet were heavy. Most of the time, when she arrived, she would stop by Carter’s office. He was always there during this timeframe, since the girls had taken over the gym. They would often talk for a moment, or he would help her set up for that day’s physical therapy.

  She didn’t know what to expect from today. Would he make sure he was out of his office completely? Would he stare at her in stony silence? Would there be another confrontation?

  Ginny’s stomach felt shivery as she crossed the gym and headed into the locker room.

  As always, she cracked the door and called out to make sure no students were inside.

  She crossed the equipment room and opened the next door to the hallway of offices. The baseball coach was in his, and Ginny gave a little wave. She tried not to be too obvious as she peeked through the windows at Carter’s desk. He wasn’t there.

  She deflated a little. She’d expected this, but it was still hard to see him blatantly avoiding her.

  The baseball coach stood up and came to his door. “Looking for Carter? He has a meeting with some of the football parents.”

  “No, just setting up for my usual occupational therapy.”

  “Ah, that’s right.” He disappeared in the other direction.

  Ginny opened the closet and pulled out her stability ball and a set of hand weights. She needed to focus back in on her students and what needed to be done to help them.

  She sat on the floor, sorting through her notes about Jason, a junior at the high school. He had been diagnosed with a defiance disorder that caused him to explode in anger when even small requests were made of him. They were slowly working on strategies to put some space between the moment when he heard the request and when his body reacted so violently—a bit of time for him to try to engage a coping strategy to prevent his explosion.

  Jason wanted to do better. The aftermath of his explosions always brought on fear and self-loathing that they were trying to also address. It wasn’t an easy case. He was a big, strong boy, and some of the teachers feared him. Ginny hated that any child had to manage life like this.

  As she reviewed her notes, she got Carter so completely out of her head t
hat she didn’t even notice someone had walked through until a door clicked down the hall.

  She glanced up to see Carter disappearing into his office and closing the door. She had no idea if he had even looked her way. The temptation was strong to go up to his door and force him to talk, but at that moment, the special education teacher for the high school brought Jason in.

  Ginny had to begin work. She could only hope that maybe Carter would still be there when she was done.

  Ginny worked with Jason, both of them throwing weighted balls at a target to vent their frustration. She got so focused that, at one point, Jason stopped throwing and just watched her.

  She turned to him, and they both burst out laughing.

  “You seeing a therapist for that anger, Miss Page?” he asked.

  “I should!” she said.

  They dissolved into laughter again, and she felt that seismic shift that sometimes came when the rapport between her and one of the kids turned into something they could build on. Trust had been established. They were going to make great progress.

  The two of them worked on balancing on one foot in increasingly difficult poses, breathing and easing any frustration they felt until the aide arrived with another student and Jason’s time was up.

  The next two students’ work went by quickly. When they were through, the aide talked with her quietly about another potential student who might be added to the roster.

  When the aide left, Carter began packing up his things, as if he might escape before Ginny could speak to him.

  She left her equipment on the floor and hurried his way.

  She wasn’t going to give him the opportunity to slink out.

  It wasn’t that Carter was avoiding Ginny.

  Okay, maybe he was.

  He just didn’t know what to say.

  He’d been raised by psychiatrists, who always nitpicked his every move. Dinner conversations often revolved around patients and their mistakes and their resulting loss of potential. Carter didn’t miss their thinly veiled attempts to turn those cases into a lesson for him.