Aaron frowned.
“It was interesting that both Drew and Shane said the exact same thing to us. You wanna know what they said?”
“You’re gonna tell me either way.”
Rick chuckled. “That’s true.” His face turned serious. “They both wished that they could do it over again.” Rick paused, letting his point sink in. “I think you could be a better linebacker than your brother. And Ms. Townsend tells me that you’re a bright student. This town’s filled with could’ve-beens and would’ve-beens. Ultimately, it’s not your potential that matters, but what you do with that potential.”
Aaron nodded, his eyes downcast.
“Look at me, son.”
Aaron raised his gaze.
“Ms. Townsend and I are both here to help you reach your potential, but we can’t do the work for you.”
CHAPTER 144
Rick … Three Months after the Knockout
“Come on, honey.” Gwen kneeled next to Buster’s kennel. She tossed a few tuna-flavored treats inside the cage.
Buster meowed, then looked up at Gwen with an I-don’t-know-about-this look. Ultimately, the reward must’ve been worth the risk as Buster entered the kennel. Gwen shut the door and latched it.
Rick appeared from the bedroom. “I did a once-over. I think we got everything.”
Gwen picked up the kennel. “I had to bribe her with treats, but Buster’s ready.”
“You could just carry her.”
“She freaks out in cars. She shredded the upholstery on my last car.”
“What about you? Are you ready?”
“To save a bunch of money on rent?” Gwen smiled. “Damn straight I am.”
Rick leaned in and kissed her on the lips. “You know what I meant.”
“I’m ready.”
Rick grabbed the cardboard box from the kitchen counter. Jamar and a few guys from the football team had moved most of Gwen’s stuff yesterday. Gwen left the apartment keys on the counter for the super. Rick stepped outside, squinting into the sun. Gwen shut the door, and they stepped down the stairs and into the parking lot. A few piles of snow melted in the corners of the lot. They loaded the cargo, the box in the truck bed, and the kennel in the cab at Gwen’s feet. Rick drove them to his home, parking behind Gwen’s Volkswagen. They carried Buster and the last of Gwen’s belongings inside. Rick took the cardboard box to the bedroom, then returned to the living room. Gwen opened the kennel door. Buster stepped out and looked around, taking in her new surroundings.
Gwen plopped down on her old couch. “I’m exhausted. I never want to move again.”
Rick sat next to her. He put his arm around her, and she leaned against his chest.
Buster hopped onto the familiar couch and lay in a circle next to Gwen.
“What do you wanna do for dinner tonight?” Rick asked.
She tilted her head and looked up at Rick. “How about takeout from that Italian place?”
“Sounds good to me. I love their homemade ravioli.”
A knock came from the front door. They sat upright and glanced at each other.
“Are you expecting someone?” Gwen asked.
“Nope.” Rick stood from the couch. “Maybe it’s the Jehovah’s Witnesses.”
“They’ll keep coming back if you don’t tell them not to.”
Rick smiled, stepped to the front door, and opened it. Heather stood there, wearing a fur coat, knee-high boots, and a tight skirt. A red corvette idled in the driveway, a man behind the wheel.
“What do you want?” Rick said with a scowl.
Heather’s mouth smiled, but the rest of her face said, Fuck you. “I don’t want anything from you. I have everything I ever wanted.”
“That’s great. Now get off my property.”
“My boyfriend and I are movin’ to California. You know I got my settlement, right?”
“I heard.”
“I’m so sick of this backward-ass town. I should’ve left a long time ago.”
Rick nodded. “You should get going then.”
“Do you know what the best revenge is?” Heather asked.
Gwen appeared at the door next to Rick and said, “Living well.”
Heather glared at Gwen, then fixed her gaze back on Rick. She gestured to the corvette. “That could’ve been you.”
“Phew.” Rick mimed, wiping his forehead. “I dodged a bullet.”
Gwen covered her mouth, stifling a laugh.
Heather’s tan face reddened. She pointed at Rick for emphasis. “You know what? You belong here with the rest of the white-trash losers.” She turned on her heels and marched toward her shiny sports car.
Rick called out to her back, a big grin on his face. “Us white-trash losers prefer pickup trucks.”
CHAPTER 145
Gwen … One Year after the Knockout
Rick was loaded down like a Sherpa with his backpack, Gwen’s backpack, Gwen’s laptop bag, and both of their lunches.
Gwen locked his truck with his key fob. “I don’t need you to carry everything.”
“I got it,” Rick said.
They walked into school together. It was still half an hour before the first bell, so the hallways were sparsely trafficked by students and arriving teachers. Gwen opened her classroom door. It was labeled with a placard that read Mrs. Barnett. Rick accompanied Gwen into her classroom, setting her gear on her desk.
“Have a good day,” Rick said, leaning over and pecking her on the lips. As he leaned in, her protruding stomach brushed against him.
“You too,” Gwen replied.
He touched her stomach and looked into her blue eyes. “I love you.”
Gwen smiled. “I love you too.”
Rick left for his classroom. Gwen sat at her desk and opened her laptop, reviewing her lesson plans. Her cell phone chimed. She fished her phone from her purse, checked the number, and swiped right. “What’s up, Lewis?”
“I’m sorry to bug you so early in the morning, but could you come to the teacher’s room? There’s a problem you should handle.”
“What’s going on?”
“Rachel Kreider and her big mouth.”
“I’ll be right there.”
Gwen walked to the teacher’s room. Lewis stood at the counter, stirring his coffee. Rachel Kreider and two new female teachers sat at one of the round tables, talking and drinking their coffee.
“Oh, hey, Gwen,” Lewis said.
The chatter from the ladies across the room stopped.
Lewis walked toward their table, Gwen in tow. “I heard you talking about Gwen’s pregnancy.”
Rachel’s eyes widened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Really? You said that Gwen’s child was fathered by her ex-husband on a conjugal visit.”
The two young teachers, Ms. Windham and Ms. Taylor, looked down, avoiding Gwen’s gaze.
“I didn’t say that,” Rachel said.
Lewis addressed the two teachers. “Did Rachel say that or not?”
Ms. Windham nodded.
“She did say that,” Ms. Taylor said.
“That’s what I heard too,” Lewis said.
Rachel crossed her arms over her chest, her face beet red. “You shouldn’t be listening to my private conversations.”
“You shouldn’t be lying.”
Gwen stepped closer and said, “I don’t owe anyone an explanation, but, for the record, it would’ve been very hard for me to have a conjugal visit with my ex-husband because I was never allowed them in the first place. Furthermore, I was divorced at the time of conception. You’re welcome to do the math and to check my divorce papers. It’s public record. I’m seven months along, and I was officially divorced a year ago.” Gwen touched her stomach. “And, yes, our baby was a happy accident, and I was pregnant when Rick and I got married.” Gwen pointed at Rachel. “If you ever spread bullshit like that again, I will sue you for slander. Don’t think I won’t.”
Rachel’s head was bowed; her e
yes were glassy. She stood from her chair and hurried from the teacher’s room in a huff.
“Stop lying, Rachel,” Lewis called out to her back.
CHAPTER 146
Rick … Two Years after the Knockout
The library was packed. The chairs were filled with parents, press, and football players. More students, community members, and teachers stood in the back. A podium and a single rectangular table were set up in front. A camera crew filmed the scene. Rick stood at the podium, wearing a gray suit. Aaron Fuller and Jamar Burris sat at the table, also wearing suits, each of them with three hats in front of them.
Rick surveyed the audience. The Burrises sat next to Ms. Fuller and Drew, who had been released from prison earlier that year. Shane’s conviction and Drew’s subsequent appeal had shaved six months off his sentence, and he didn’t have to register as a sex offender. Thanks to a football booster, who also happened to be the owner of the local concrete plant, Drew had gainful employment with a living wage. Rick gave them a nod. He found Gwen, who held their ten-month-old baby boy, Dylan. Rick already had visions of future football glory, but he’d promised Gwen never to pressure his son, although his crib was filled with cushy little footballs. Gwen grinned, the little guy bouncing in her lap. Rick returned her smile, then addressed the audience.
“Before we celebrate these two special student athletes, I’d like to thank all the members of our football team. Without that group effort, it’s impossible to win a state championship, much less three of them in a row. Furthermore, I send out my grateful appreciation to our West Lake student body and to the West Lake Students for Change for setting up the Caleb Miles Memorial Fund to Prevent Teenage Suicides.
“This effort helps bridge the gap between depressed students and school administrators. The funds collected help pay for licensed therapists for those in need. With open communication and help available to all, we hope to never lose another student to suicide.”
The audience responded with a hush of silence and then a thunderous applause.
Rick waited for the crowd to calm. “Thank you to everyone who donated time and money to the Caleb Miles Memorial Fund.” He paused for a moment. “Now we turn the spotlight on these two special athletes. There’s never been a student in any sport from West Lake who’s ever earned a Division I scholarship for collegiate athletics. This year we have two such recipients.” Rick gestured to Aaron and Jamar. “I could go on and on about their on-the-field accomplishments, but I won’t because their football talents aren’t the most impressive characteristics of these two individuals.
“Aaron Fuller is the toughest young man I’ve ever coached and an extremely hard worker. He works at a concrete plant on the weekends, even during football season. After we won our second state championship, he wasn’t out partying. He went straight home following the game, went to sleep, and went to work in the morning, like it was just another day. Aaron’ll be successful in life because he has grit and an unstoppable will to persevere.”
Rick paused for a moment. “Jamar Burris.” Rick paused again. “He’s a special football player, a once-in-a-lifetime talent, a leader of men, and an even better person. The worst mistake I ever made as a coach was benching Jamar. I was clearly wrong, but Jamar didn’t pout. He didn’t tell me that it was unfair, even though it clearly was. He stood on the sideline and cheered on his replacement as if nothing had happened. That’s an example of the extraordinary character and poise this young man possesses.”
Rick gestured to Aaron and Jamar. The hats in front of them displayed the university logos from the schools they were considering: Penn State, Pitt, and Ohio State for Jamar; and Temple, James Madison, and Pitt for Aaron. “Why don’t you two show everyone where you’ll attend college?”
They looked at each other with goofy grins; then simultaneously Jamar and Aaron picked up the blue hat from their trio of choices and placed it on their heads, the University of Pittsburgh logos visible.
The audience gave them a standing ovation.
FOR THE READER
Dear Reader,
I’m thrilled that you took precious time out of your life to read my novel. Thank you! I hope you found it entertaining, engaging, and thought-provoking. If so, please consider writing a positive review on Amazon and Goodreads. Five-star reviews have a huge impact on future sales. The review doesn’t need to be long and detailed, if you’re more of a reader than a writer. As an author and a small businessman, competing against the big publishers, every reader, every review, and every referral is greatly appreciated.
If you’re interested in receiving my novel Against the Grain for free and/or reading my other titles for free or .99 cents, go to the following link: http://www.PhilWBooks.com. You’re probably thinking, What’s the catch? There is no catch.
If you want to contact me, don’t be bashful. I can be found at [email protected]. I do my best to respond to all e-mails.
Sincerely,
Phil M. Williams
GRATITUDE
I’d like to thank my wife for her expert council on all things education as well as allowing me to plagiarize her personal narrative. Without her support and unwavering belief in my skill as an author, I’m not sure I would have embarked on this career. I love you, Denise.
I’d also like to thank my editors. My developmental editor, Caroline Smailes, did a fantastic job finding the holes in my plot and suggesting remedies. As always, my line editor, Denise Barker (not to be confused with my wife, Denise Williams), did a fantastic job making sure the manuscript was error-free. I love her comments and feedback.
Thank you to Deborah Bradseth of Tugboat Design for her excellent cover art and formatting. She’s the consummate professional. I look forward to many more beautiful covers in the future.
Thank you to Olivia for her insights into central Pennsylvania culture and regional dialects.
Lastly, thank you to the truth-seekers of the world—everyone who verifies before believing, researches before trusting, and constantly questions. It’s much easier to simply believe what we want to believe, and that’s precisely what the liars, manipulators, and propagandists of the world rely upon.
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