I’d never seen the Teentime program, but if all the girls looked like Natalia, I was sure going to start.
Law stood erect and said, “I’m sorry. Where are my manners? Reverend Nelson, Joshua.” He nodded just short of a full bow. “Gentlemen, permit me to introduce my friend, Natalia Kaskova.”
“Natalia, it’s nice to meet you.” Dad stood and reached across the table to shake her hand.
Brandon also stood and smiled. “It’s a pleasure, Natalia. I’m Brandon Lupo, and these are Josh, Todd, and Reverend Nelson.” He made an odd sweeping motion toward us with his arm.
Natalia looked at me and extended her hand. As we shook, she turned to Law. “Larry, dear, Todd Nelson does not look anything like Cujo.”
Larry? Oh well, I guess when a girl looks like that, she can call you anything she wants to call you and make you like it.
Law chuckled and said, “He does to the opponent’s quarterback when the right guard misses his block.”
She smiled, but I wasn’t sure if she got the football analogy. She said, “I can imagine. Especially when he does that counterspin stunt like he did in the clip.”
Hey, I’m liking this girl better all the time.
Natalia turned to Dad. “I bet you are very proud of Todd.”
Dad hesitated. At first I thought he was deciding if he was proud of me or not, then it hit me. Even Dad, the poster boy for piety, was taken aback by this gorgeous girl. Had my mom been there, she would have undoubtedly said, “You can close your mouth now, Douglas. And while you’re at it, you can stuff your eyeballs back into your head.” Mom always had a way of making Dad look almost human, rather than the robotic cleric he liked to represent himself to be.
Dad gathered his wits and asked me, “Son, did you know about this video business?”
“Which part? The part about me not being the one who held, or that Mr. Krane was going to show the clip?”
“About the video clip.” Dad sounded almost angry.
Brandon Lupo leaned toward Dad and said, “Only Marion Krane and I knew the clip was going to be shown tonight. You see, I went to college with Paul Norris, one of the assistant coaches at West Cleary. He emailed me the clip, and I asked Marion to show it.”
Dad slowed his breathing and closed his eyes for a second or two, a trick he used whenever he was afraid he might say something he would later regret. “Brandon, why didn’t you say something before?”
“I only received the clip today, and frankly, I wasn’t sure Marion would show it. You know how much clout Coach Newcomb and Coach Crockett have around this town.”
For once, I was glad Marion Krane didn’t care much for sports. Before that evening, I’d always thought he had it in for anyone involved in athletics. Who would have thought it would turn out to be a good thing?
Ever since the West Cleary game, I’d only had one wish. That was to find the game video and prove to everyone I wasn’t the Grinch who stole Christmas, the Big Bad Wolf, and the Wicked Witch of the West all rolled into one. Then, in a single four-point-seven-second sliver of time, that wish was granted. You would think I would feel as though the weight of the universe was suddenly off my shoulders. The fact was, I didn’t feel much different. I didn’t feel vindicated. Not then. Maybe I needed some time to process the happenings of the evening as well.
Chapter Thirty-Six
As it turns out, judges aren’t any more sympathetic toward extenuating circumstances than my Dad is. So, from seven thirty ’til twelve thirty each Saturday you can find me, wearing my fluorescent orange vest and white hard hat, dutifully scraping bird poop off benches, statues, and playground equipment at any one of the Branard Independent School System’s seven schoolyards. Today is Saturday number seven of my ten Saturday community service order.
My three colleagues and I were working at Barrett Elementary. There was Harry “The Mad Bomber” Valone, who dropped firecrackers down the vent pipe into the girls’ locker room in hopes of— well, you can imagine what he was in hopes of, and Tan Lu “The Artist” Cho, who tagged three school buses in one night. They were hosing off the sidewalks while Bobby “The Hacker” Cochran and I were scouring the benches at the basketball court.
Bobby broke into the high school’s computer system to change his biology grade from an F to a C. He actually asked, “Who knew the school would have a decoy file set up for catching people who try to hack the system?” Oh yeah, like it takes a real genius to figure out some student might want to crack the server security and change a grade.
I really don’t mind working. I feel I’m making a contribution to the family. Ever since Dad lost his job at the church and is only teaching part time at the college, my little paycheck helps. Besides, unloading railcars and stacking flooring material is helping me keep in shape for next season. Did I mention I’m back on the team? Next year it will be Cujo Nelson at left defensive end and Hooch Stefanac—Law’s new nickname—at right. I picked the name Hooch from an old movie about a cop and his lovable but big French Mastiff dog partner.
As far as the consequences for Coaches Newcomb and Crockett’s actions, football is football and winning is winning. They did each write me a letter of apology—for not investigating the incident. Big whoop. The newspaper ran an article about the screw up, and implied both of the coaches knew the truth all along and had hidden the tape. Coach Newcomb continued saying that he’d lost the tape and was ashamed to admit it.
Funny thing was, I didn’t hate him. I didn’t like him, but I didn’t hate him.
It’s like Dad says, “Holding a grudge doesn’t hurt the one who wronged you. It only destroys the happiness of the grudge holder.”
I keep glancing at my watch then across the street to where I parked my truck. I don’t worry about vandals anymore. I’m catching glimpses of Lisa, my dark-haired beauty, sitting on my truck’s tailgate. She smiles and waves every time I look over.
Lucky me.
The lovely Lisa Brazo brings me my lunch each Saturday so we can spend an hour together before we go to our paying jobs.
Lisa still works at Benny’s, and I work in the warehouse at Palmer Flooring three nights a week. Our schedules make regular dating a bit of a challenge, but we see each other Saturday and Sunday nights, and we talk on the phone every day. Lisa has never been into the whole texting thing. She says hearing each other’s voices make our talks more intimate.
Her word, not mine.
It turns out the reason Lisa was so freaked about my truck getting trashed wasn’t because I attracted trouble like a dog attracts fleas. It was because she thought her psycho ex-boyfriend did it, and that he might try to shoot me or something. Fortunately, he’s moved back to Florida and doesn’t have access to any guided missiles.
And Lisa’s dad hasn’t turned out to be such a bad guy either. He gave me one of his old guitars and is giving me free lessons. I may get that chance to serenade her after all. Things are better at school, and I am beginning to think maybe God doesn’t hate me after all. My dad says everything happens for a reason, and maybe someday I’ll find out what God had in mind with this penalty thing.
After all of the harassment people dished out in my direction when they thought I lost us the game, I half expected them to be extra friendly, trying to make up for the things they had said and done, but like Law said, they all seem to be embarrassed and uncomfortable around me.
Overall, I think the things I went through have changed me, and mostly for the better. I appreciate the loyalty of friends like Law and Brandon, and I’ve learned not to place blame so fast. I’m more tolerant of other people’s sins and mistakes than I used to be.
Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t want to go through it again for all the peas in Peoria, but I can’t help but think it’s made me a better person. Take my attitude toward Lance. I know he led the attack on me, and I suspect he was the leader of the gang who trashed my truck, but I don’t hate the guy. Not really. But if God wants to reward me, one day when we are both in college, our t
wo teams will meet on the football field, him dropping back to pass, and me slipping a block on his blind side. It’s not revenge. It’s just a little whimsical fantasy I have.
For that matter, I don’t even hate Jamel for the beating or for letting me take all the heat for the holding he knew he did, but then, I almost did the same thing to my own brother.
Speaking of Josh, I couldn’t believe it. The little pest got off with deferred adjudication, and I got ten weeks of community service. Before, I would have been livid to know that Josh got off scot-free after breaking into half a dozen cars to steal stuff, and they sent me to the gallows for only trying to get the whole town off my back for something I didn’t do.
A few weeks ago, that would have sent me up the wall, but I’m tired of all the nonstop drama. I have decided to leave the past to the past. I can’t control the future and can’t change the past. I figure about the best a guy can do is to deal with the here in the now.
Lisa still plans to enroll at Duke next year, but we’re not stressing over it. We’re enjoying the time we have together right now. Who knows where Dad’s next church will be? It could even be in North Carolina. Or, if I have a good senior season, I could get a scholarship offer from Duke. You just never know. If Lisa and I are meant to be together, it’ll happen.
I pray it’s meant to be. Mom would say it’s too soon to tell, but I think Lisa’s the one.
Here’s to hope, faith, and love.
About the Author
Born and raised in Texas, I grew up loving all things Texan―the wide expanse and variety of outdoor activities in its open spaces as well as the cultural benefits of its big cities. I am fascinated by the uniqueness of Texas small towns and the excitement of its larger cities.
I am blessed to be married to my best friend whom I met my freshman year in college. We have three beautiful daughters, and I now work in a profession I would do for free. (Psst! Don’t tell my publisher!) I love to write for many of the same reasons I love to read. I can travel backward or forward in time, to places near or far away. I can revisit favorite times and places or explore new ones. I love taking the reader along on my journeys. My goal is to create realistic characters. Characters the reader can love or hate, but most of all, characters they will recognize as real.
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