by Lance Allen
But when the state championships rolled around and Zack was on the mound late in the deciding game, he was crushed to learn JC and not he would be given the opportunity to close out the biggest game of their young lives. And when the moment happened and JC became local lore, Zack brooded and sulked at being cheated out of the moment himself. And since that time he remained the almost polished kid who could just never get out of the shadow of the boy everyone called The Kid.
JC’s nickname started shortly after the first state championship. Other boys or parents familiar with local little league baseball would see him and say Hey look there’s the kid or He’s the kid that won the game. Although no one in town or close to the boys on JC’s team ever called him anything other than JC, word spread and his nickname was heard all over.
Zack was jealous of just about every aspect of JC’s life, with the exception of where JC lived and the circumstances surrounding his upbringing. Zack came from the other side of town; he lived in a modest home. His father was an engineer of some kind and worked in the city. His father drove a black SUV with chrome wheels and tinted windows. Zack was able to afford the finest equipment and always had the newest and best clothes. Why he could not best this other boy on the field attacked him ferociously. He was determined to beat him, now it was just a matter of how.
The evening following the game in which JC first pitched for the varsity team in a relief role, Zack got wind of his rival’s outing: 2/3 inning, one hit two strike outs. The news was almost too much for him to bear; a rage set in and he seethed with unkind thoughts and began scheming a way to unseat this boy so he could capture the glory for himself. Cunning had been building in him over the years; the time had come to spring some of his illicit thoughts into action.
In the beginning, the attacks were subtle and random. Something sexually derogatory was scrawled on the wall of one of the boys’ bathroom stalls. Then a cartoon depicting JC fornicating with a dog was found drawn on a table inside the auditorium. Occasionally, whispers were heard about JC being seen after hours in conspicuous places with various classmates. Most stories were without basis and so farfetched they were hard to believe.
One afternoon, JC was in the school’s gymnasium stretching on a matt prior to a pitching session, doing his best to keep in top shape during the off season when he thought he overheard someone in the bleachers above where he was stretching mention his name and then look in his direction and laugh. Owning more confidence than most of the teachers in the building, he rose from the matt and headed towards the individuals he thought had directed something towards him.
What’s up guys?
Nothin.
Looked like you were trying to say something to me but I couldn’t quite hear what you were saying.
It was nothing JC honest.
JC knew something was up and he was determined to get to the bottom of what had been going on at school and mostly at his expense.
Listen guys, I know something is going on and I want to know what you heard. You ain’t gotta say anything else just tell me what you were laughing about.
There’s a picture in the back hallway, it’s been there all day.
JC climbed down from the bleachers and walked the length of the gym floor to the rear entrance, where the visitors’ locker room was. When he reached the double set of wooden doors he paused, and took a deep breathe. Following a brief moment he pushed open the door and entered the small area just outside the locker room. At first he noticed nothing peculiar, but then he saw it.
Immediately his stomach balled into a tight knot, his hands began trembling; a light sweat broke out on his brow. Taped to the wall next to the soda machine was a familiar picture; one he had seen countless times before, except this time something had been added to the picture, a slight alteration that caused JC to fly into a rage. He quickly closed on the poster and with a vengeful grasp tore it from the wall and crumpled it into a wad. He turned and stormed back out to the gymnasium.
Who’s the coward that hung this piece of trash on the wall out there? Who did it? I want to know now!
Of the dozen or so kids milling around in he gym, no one so much as made a peep. JC stood close to center court, the poster clenched in one fist, the other shaking from a confined rage. His eyes scanned the space but none met his; the cowards he thought, they’ll not say who has done this.
Finally he spied the slight stature of a boy he knew from geometry class, Andrew Gorman. He quickly walked to where Andrew was standing and did his best impression of a bully
Andrew I know you know who did this and you are going to tell me or so help me God I will beat the ever loving snot out of you right here, right now.
I’m sorry JC I can’t. If I do, they’ll know and they will come get me. There are more of them than you. I wouldn’t stand a chance in either case but I will take my chances with one instead of 4.
With that, JC knew who was behind the poster prank. The four kids Andrew was so concerned about happened to be the four kids JC should have suspected in the first place. Well maybe not four but at the very least one. Zack Everman had never gone out of his way to hide the fact he hated JC and JC knew this. No matter how hard he tried to show Zack there was no ill will between them, the angrier and more distant Zack became. It didn’t matter they had played baseball on the same team for a few years now, Zack hated JC for all he was worth and now it appeared he had taken his hostilities to a new level.
JC strode to the doors, which were the entrance to the school proper and exited the gym, tossing the crumpled poster in the trashcan by the door. There was no telling where Zack might be at this point during the day but there seemed no point in hanging around the school anymore today, he would go home and think about how to work out the problem and tomorrow come back with a plan.
He crossed the lobby outside the entrance to the gym and entered the main boys’ locker room to shower and change. The boys locker room smelled as if a large animal had defecated somewhere on the floor and then died. Combined with the ever present humidity from the showers the resulting nasal sensation wasn’t pleasant. Even after countless moments spent getting ready to play or go home he still couldn’t get used to the awful smell.
The locker room was broken up into six horseshoe shaped spaces each containing approximately 50 lockers. There was no set use of the space just wherever a kid felt comfortable getting dressed. JC kept his things in locker #27 in the first alcove to the left as he walked in.
The walk to the showers was further from here but the number meant he was closer to home and the comfort that brought him was immeasurable. He began to undress and place his clothes in the locker as he removed them. As he unzipped his pants he heard the door open behind him and several footfalls, then all went white.
Next he remembers feeling the side of his head with his hand and touching a sizable lump. Thoughts whirled in his mind as to what had just happened when he caught sight of something, something unexpected. With one eye closed and the other merely a slit, he recognized the sullen scowl of Zack. Behind him were his cronies, Bud, Slacker, and Richie Boyle. JC couldn’t remember why they were standing there, but he was about to find out.
So I heard you were talking some shit about me JC.
I don’t know what your talking bout Zack
His temple throbbed and his stomach was still woozy. Slowly he was getting his wits back along with his vision. From the deep red circle on the back of Zack’s hand he could only guess it was used to sucker punch him in the head. Things were happening fast and JC new this time he was in trouble.
Someone told me you think I was the one who put the picture of your old lady with the cock in her mouth out by the back door. Is that what you been sayin?
Zack I just found out about that myself and hadn’t had time to say anything to anybody. But I am guessing it was you and this is all you wanted in the first place. You want to fight let’s fight, but tell your boys to back off.
Those would prove to be the l
ast words JC Montero would speak for two weeks.
When he woke from his drug induced coma, he learned he had three fractured ribs, a fractured orbital bone, a fractured jaw, a ruptured spleen, a dislocated shoulder, and a concussion severe enough to require 24 hour intensive care for 11 days.
Three days after getting his own room, the doctor unwired his jaw and he was able to talk. He didn’t say much but he did say who was behind his brutal beating. The detective who took his statement turned out to be the uncle of a kid who played against JC in last years little league state tournament. The officer remembered the type of player he was and told his nephew JC was one of the good ones and he might just learn a thing or two from watching him play. He promised to do everything in his power to make sure the boys responsible paid for their mistakes. Turns out the law can’t trump money.
With no prior record or history of trouble, Zack and his friends were allowed back to school after serving a 10-day suspension. Family court attached a three-month probationary bit to their records but after three months if they stayed out of trouble their records would be wiped clean. The same could not be said for JC.
For weeks JC suffered from debilitating migraine headaches, one such side effect from the traumatic injury caused from the repeated kicks to his head. Structurally there was nothing wrong with his brain but the sustained impacts had jarred it so that the after effects lingered much longer than might have been the case.
He spent his days isolated in the complete dark; any strain of light would send a piercing wedge of enflamed ice deep behind his eyes. The pain had reached a pinnacle on two such occasions where the agony was too much to bear and he lost consciousness.
The diet he sustained was meager at best but caloric enough to keep his sustained body mass. His broken jaw healed rather quickly but still remained tender leaving most of his favorite foods, crunchy and chewy, off the menu. His other injuries took their time healing and he with them. His anticipated off-season workout program was shelved; in its place was general rehab. He slowly began to put the pieces back together, recuperating his body and finding ways to heal his mind. The beating he had sustained at the hands of a bitter rival was certainly food for thought and he had had plenty of time to think.
But after months of quiet reflection JC was still unable to grasp the depth of personal misery Zack had to have mined to bring to bear the type of attack he did. Something was missing, a hint of despair, a slight of fancy, a piece of misfortune. Zack had always been sullen and shallow with regards to their baseball kinship, but he had never so much as raised a voice in JC’s direction; just the opposite really. Zack seemed hell bent on being as distant and aloof from someone in such close proximity. JC didn’t need to be told of Zack’s dislike for him, it was quietly demonstrated on a near daily basis.
Nearly two months to the day from the savage beating JC took in the boys’ locker room at the hands of one of his own teammates, he returned to school and the possibility of normal days. Light still bothered his eyes so he was allowed to wear special sunglasses to avoid the crippling effects of the all too often migraine headaches.
From almost the first minute upon being back in what had been a home away from home JC began feeling the cold shoulder from many who had been his friends and just classmates who knew of him from his exploits on the baseball field. He had been confident his presence had been missed in his time away and that he would have been welcomed back with open arms.
Instead, what JC found upon his return to school was the cold shoulder when he walked up to friends between classes to talk about what had been going on while he was away. Even his baseball teammates seemed to be running on empty when it came to a welcome back. Everyone seemed to be on edge and steered clear of JC’s every attempt at reconnecting. He was puzzled, hurt, and thoroughly dismayed by the treatment he was receiving. Towards late morning, after several failed attempts at hello, he went to the nurse’s office and asked to be excused saying his head hurt terribly and he needed to rest.
He was allowed to walk to the transit stop and the public bus would take him to the trailer park. One advantage to living under the median is public resources are not far away. When he got home and crawled into bed he began to cry tears of a small hurt little boy who was just told by the bigger kids to scram. His heart felt as if it might break. There wasn’t anything in his mind he could find which might suggest he had done something wrong. In the end he decided he would allow today to feel sorry for himself but tomorrow he would go back at it and learn the true cause of the cold reception he had received today.
In the morning, he showered, dressed, ate a quick breakfast and left the trailer without even saying goodbye to his parents. He decided it would be best to take the transit bus instead of the school bus, figuring he would go directly to the source this morning and find out what was behind yesterday’s deliberate attempt at shunning. If anyone knew what was going on, Cheryl would and she couldn’t lie if it meant the life of her cat.
Cheryl had had a crush on JC from the time they were old enough to play in the same sandbox. Not a lusty drooling unremarkable fancy seen on some after school special. Cheryl didn’t think of JC as some poster pin up boy from the most relevant boy band of the day. Cheryl admired JC for his kindness, his loyalty and above all his friendship. She was in love with him but the innocence painted it in many colors not one of which was red.
First thing in the morning Cheryl could usually be found in the science lab, checking on experiments in the senior research lab. Whenever she wasn’t running experiments she was tutoring other students before school, helping them with lab reports or homework or just hanging out and talking all things science. She was technically gifted and possessed a knack for all things complicated. Her brilliant mind and intangible skills earned a scholarship to the University to continue her experiments and her love for learning.
Before entering the lab he peeked in through the small glass window in the door to see if Cheryl was there. She was, so he entered. The room was full of workstations, each one with black Formica top and a deep sink, a gas line to light a Bunsen burner and a medium sized microscope. Each station was outfitted with Petri dishes, glass slides, solutions, chemicals, etc.
The materials had been donated to the school via a grant set up by a locally famous person who had set aside money to be donated to the school every year. When other schools may have had budgetary shortfalls that would require cuts to such places like this lab, that risk was never run since the money was earmarked only for the lab, and could not be drawn if not for the purpose of funding this space. JC saw she was leaning over one of the microscopes in the back intently looking through the eyepiece. She hadn’t noticed his entrance.
Hi Cheryl
Startled, she let out a gasp and a half twitch, almost losing her goggles with the sudden turning of her neck. When she realized who had called out her name her hands immediately went to her mouth and her eyes welled with tears.
She hadn’t seen JC since two days after the incident when he was at his worst in the ICU. She had spent 15 lonely minutes holding his hand in the darkness illuminated only by pumps and machines. She had held his limp hand, which had become swollen with the drugs coursing through his body. Then she had wept for the poor soul who may have been snuffed too early. Now she wept for the second chance she had been given to embrace a friend.
Oh my god JC. I heard you were back but before I found you, you had left for the day.
With that she navigated the maze of equipment and came to stand just before JC, who was a good three inches shorter than she. She grabbed his face, kissed his forehead longingly, lovingly and then they embraced, as if they had been separated by years and an ocean and only now had they been given the chance to breathe the same breathe, share the same space.
I thought you were going to die. I came to see you. One of the first days you were in there. Oh it was awful. You were so still, so quiet. They had your arms stretched out in front of you, resting on a
pillow. It was almost like you were laid out for a wake. It was just horrible. I am so sorry my brother did this to you.
Cheryl Everman was a senior in high school, an older woman of sorts, and Zack’s older sister. JC and Cheryl had hid their fondness for one another do in large part to the animosity Zack harbored for JC. Prowess on the ball field was one thing, loving the enemy was something else entirely. JC and Cheryl had talked about the repercussions of their involvement and decided it was best to keep things on the low side to prevent a total meltdown in the Everman household, which in these times would have been counterproductive. Cheryl had her science and JC was making his name on the field. Each other’s maturity kept the other going and made their relationship under duress work much better.
I’ve thought about the things that have happened and I couldn’t make heads or tails of them, but then I came to school yesterday and I was ignored by all of my friends. Even the kids I just used to horse around with wouldn’t even look at me. I’m not sure what is going on. I thought maybe something happened while I was out and you might know about it.
Before Cheryl could get the words out, the door to the room opened and Zack walked in followed closely by Bud and Slacker. The three boys had roughly the same haircut, short and to the scalp, similar black tee shirts, and jeans. Bud wore a black ball cap, turned backwards, Slacker had on a pair of eyeglasses he must have fancied were like Marshall Mathers.
What are you doing here JC? I thought you and I had an understanding. You’re supposed to stay away from my sister. I’m pretty sure I made that clear the last time I saw you.
Get out of here Zack. You might be my brother but I won’t forgive you again. You and your dirt bag friends leave him alone.
Shut the fuck up Cheryl. This ain’t your beef. This here is between me and boy wonder over there. How are you feeling anyway? I heard you are still pretty sick.
I’m making do, thanks. I would prefer if you just left me alone. I think you made your point before. I can’t say as if I will actually take it to heart but I’ll consider it anyway.
