by L A Cotton
“Hey, man. You look rough. Bad day?” Ethan shoulder checked me, and I waved my cracked, lifeless phone at him. “I swear, man, the Universe has it out for me.”
Zac’s arm draped around my shoulder, and he eyed my cell. “Taking your shit out on your cell now?”
“Nice to see you, too.”
“Hey, look at this. Three of my favorite people all in one place. Happy fucking days,” Morris chirped. “Ethan, long time, man. Too long. I hear you're all shacked up with some little hottie?”
Ethan scowled. “Dude, it's been three months. You sound like Laurie. She's already mentioned moving in together. I'm so not ready for that shit.”
Morris slapped him on the back. “Man up. We're twenty-four now. Time to grow up.”
“Fuck that shit, dude. I like my life how it is—me, myself, and my dick. I'm not ready to get all serious,” Zac added.
“What about you and Sharn, bro? I guess the plan didn't go off as intended?”
“Sharn? Sharn Macer? She's the mystery girl who's eating at you?” Ethan asked, his eyes bugging out of his head, and I mumbled, “Something like that.”
He shook his head in disbelief. “Shit, man, I didn't see that coming.”
Zac dished out beers to each of us. “Neither did we. But she's gotten right to our guy here. Something tells me that it's the real deal.”
Insightful bastard!
“So, what happened?” He tipped the neck of his beer at me, and I took a long pull on my bottle. “We were all set to go talk things out and she got called to some family emergency.”
“Bad timing. And now you've trashed your phone?”
“Yeah, something like that.”
He laughed. “Unlucky, bro. So what’s your next move?” The three of them watched me intently, and I shrugged, not liking all the questions. “Regroup, I guess. Got a busy of couple of weeks. But I have a plan B. And if I can pull it off, she won't be able to say no.”
He clapped his arm around me again. “Well, well. Welcome to the big leagues. It’s about fucking time.”
~
“There's my boy.” The smile smeared over Dad's face caught me off guard. I hadn’t seen Dad smile since before the incident. “Come on, son. You don't need to look so cagey. After everything, I'm allowed one happy day, aren't I?”
I approached the small table and sat down opposite him. “Sure thing. What's got you in such a good mood?”
“It's been six weeks, you know, since...” His voice croaked. “Well, let's not go there. But today the doctor came with good news. For a change. I'm out of detox, son. I can go home.”
Relief was the first feeling to hit. It started in my gut and spread outwards. Dad was on the road to getting sober. This was good fucking news. But then a wave of anxiety swept over me. The destination was still a long way off, and I knew—we both knew—it wouldn’t be an easy road.
“Keef, everything okay over there? You've gone a little peaky?”
I ripped my cap off and jammed a hand into my hair. “Yeah. That's great news, Dad. Really great.”
“But?”
A million things teetered on the edge of my tongue. But I couldn’t. So, I said something safe. “I just want this time to be different, ya know?”
“Me too, son. Me, too.”
I clasped my hands together and flexed my arms. “So, when can we get you home? And what's the plan?”
“I have to talk to Dr. Phelps, but I think tomorrow. I'll still be coming outpatient here for follow-up. It's going to be difficult; I know that. But I will never pull a stunt like that again. Ever. You have my word, son.”
I reached over the table and gripped his hand. He looked better. His skin was back to its usual creamy-white shade, and the dark circles around his eyes seemed to fade a little more each day. “Okay, Dad.”
We had watched the rest of the MBL highlights on ESPN before I left for the office. Coach wanted to go over the summer program. Again. It'd only been three days since I last saw Sharn, but it was three days too long. I couldn’t text her, and I just hoped that she didn’t think that my silence was due to another change of heart. Because my heart was hers. Fuck. It was—all hers.
Coach greeted me out front with a serious look on his face, which meant either I was in for it or something had gone balls up. One thing Coach Jefferson didn't do well was failure. “Don't just stand there, Smith. We've got shit to discuss.”
I followed him into the office. He didn't stop at his desk, though, instead heading into the kitchenette area. I followed his lead, dropping onto the couch.
“Might as well get comfy for this, son.”
Shit was getting weird. “Is everything okay, Sir?”
“How is your old man, Keefer?”
Keefer? Coach never called me Keefer. “He's being discharged tomorrow.”
He inhaled and exhaled a long breath. “Great news, the best news I've had all day.”
“Sir, what's going on?” I studied his face. The deep lines of a hard life etched into the skin around his eyes and forehead. His salt and pepper hair hinted at his age, but Syd Jefferson was as fit as they came. He scrubbed a hand over his unshaven face with a sad look in his eye. “I gotta pull back a little. I'm not getting any younger and my health isn't what it used to be.”
I sat speechless. Coach seemed invincible to me, always had.
“Don't go jumping to conclusions, son. I have plenty of time left on the ticker. I just got some health issues to take care of. But I'll come up smelling of roses. Always do.”
That was more like the stubborn old man who I knew. “Don't suppose you're going to give me any more than that?”
“You don't need to worry about this old fool. I'll be right as rain in no time. Now, back to business. With me being out the picture for the foreseeable future...”
Shit. He was going to sell or bring in some hotshot who would change everything we'd worked hard to build. I clenched my fist. Squeeze, release, squeeze, release.
“So, what do you think?”
“About what?”
“About taking the helm?”
What in the fuck? “The helm? You mean of the business? Like running it? Me?”
He let out a deep chuckle. “You should see your face, Smith. Yes, you dipshit. Who else am I going to trust with my life's work?”
Life-altering moments seemed to be featuring a lot in my life lately. This was definitely one of them. “Wow, I- I’m blown away, Sir. I’d always hoped it’d be mine one day. You know that I love it as much as you do. I’ll make you proud.”
“Son, I already am.” He patted me on the shoulder. “There’s going to be a lot to talk about, but let’s ride the summer out first. I’ll be around when I can. Zac coming on board should ease things. You two work well together.” He rose and walked to the noticeboard hanging next to the door. After unpinning an envelope, he walked back to me. “This came today for you.”
I peeled it open and let my eyes roam over the unfolded sheet of paper. “You’ve got to be shitting me.”
“What is it?”
“The school wants me to attend an award ceremony and present the boys with a certificate of attendance. It seems that most of the boys have improved their grades and attendance. It says formal wear.”
“Is that why you look so green?” He chuckled.
“I don’t own a fucking suit!”
“Better get down to the mall then.” He started for the door, but turned back and said, “And Keefer, I spoke with Principal Delaney. Good job with those boys, son. It seems you made a real impact.”
It was always nice to hear the program worked, but a suit? I groaned. I scanned the details of the ceremony; May 27th, next week. At least it meant I’d be seeing Sharn sooner rather than later.
~
I tugged at the stiff collar on my new, crisp, white shirt. I looked ridiculous—like that fuck Declan and his suited and booted buddies down at 42nds. My body screamed to be back in my loose fitting track pants and jerse
y.
“Mr. Smith? I’m Angela Cooler, the school administrator. If you’d like to follow me.” She led me through the corridor into the gymnasium, which had been transformed.
A huge stage filled the far end, decorated with the school banner. The bleachers were pulled out to create seating for the families that had started to filter in. I stared at the crowd, clenching my clammy hands. My stomach felt hollow. Public speaking literally made me feel like I could puke at any moment.
When I’d called Principal Delaney before the weekend, he’d informed me that I wouldn’t be the only guest speaker. Thank fuck, but it didn’t relieve my nerves. My job was to say something about the program, something about the boys, hand out their certificates, and get the hell out of there. Only two things stopped me from pulling a stunt to get out of it: the boys and Sharn. Sharn. My eyes felt starved at not seeing her.
“You can sit here; someone will be along shortly to give you the certificates. Break a leg. We should be good to go in about twenty.” Ms. Cooler smiled and pointed to a chair.
What a stupid thing to say. Like I needed anything else to worry about. I murmured a response, too busy yanking at the collar that seemed to tighten around my neck with every breath. My hands kept feeling the inside pocket to check that my index cards were still there. I’d made a few notes on them, but the closer it got, the more I became tempted to wing it. Either way, I’d be making a total dick of myself in about thirty minutes.
The gym started to fill; parents and family took the bleachers, and the students filed in chairs laid out in rows on the remaining floor space. It was a combined ceremony for student activities for ninth and tenth graders. The sheer number of bodies crammed into the room made it hot. At this rate, I’d pass out before I even made it on stage. My throat felt dry and my hands were sweating, and I didn’t even have my cap to pull down low over my eyes. Shit.
As Principal Delaney took the stage and the low chatter quieted, I thought about making an excuse and hotfooting it out of there. But then my eyes found a row of familiar faces. As I worked my way along the row of boys, my breathing steadied, and when my gaze fell on Sharn’s face, my world slowed, zeroing in on her. I couldn’t see the hundreds of students or parents. I could only see her.
“Testing, testing. Hu-hum. Good evening students, families, and friends of Gainesville High. As we draw near to the end of another fantastic year of learning, we wanted to celebrate the other things that students get involved with here at GHS.”
The lights dimmed and a slideshow started playing, projecting onto the huge gym wall. Sports teams in the heat of the game, the band in formation, students at charity events, and then an image flashed up that sucked the air right from me. It was a picture of the team. All seventeen boys after the Yankee’s game, posing outside the stadium. I stood in the center with Sharn to my right, but she wasn’t looking at the camera—she was looking up at me. I felt my cheeks color. If the boys had any suspicions before, they’d know for sure now. The look of adoration in her eyes was obvious.
The lights came back up, and Principal Delaney stepped back up the mic. “As you can see, our students have been involved in a lot this year. So let’s kick things off with our ninth graders. First up, Mr. Balks, Director of Music.”
I tried to stay focused on what was happening around me, but I couldn’t get the image of Sharn out of my head. I’d stared at her for the duration of the band awards, and then the community service awards. A couple of times she met my gaze then quickly turned her head away, but I was sure I’d caught the pink tint to her cheeks.
“And now, I’d like to hand things over to Keefer Smith, of the City Youth Baseball Program. Coach Smith has been working with some of our ninth graders for the last three months and we’ve seen a real positive impact. Coach Smith.”
The audience applauded, but it didn’t drown out the hoots and hollers coming from the boys. I tried to steady my breath as I walked onto the stage. You can do this. Suck it up, Smith. Looking out into the vast sea of faces, I froze. And then out of the corner of my eye, I saw a smile that would shatter my world every damn time. Sharn. I focused on her—only her, as I began to talk.
“I’ve had the pleasure of working with Jared, Micah, Marc…” I named every one of the boys, making eye contact with each one as I said their name. “For the last three months, I worked with a lot of kids. But I don’t ever think I’ve ever worked with a group so determined to prove to me that they’ve got what it takes to play ball. I’ve always loved baseball. It saved me. It changed me. It inspired me to be better. It made me want to be better. And I hope it can do the same for you…”
I took a deep breath.
“This might be an ending, but it’s also a new beginning. I hope to see every one of you out on the diamond again very soon. With that said, I’d like to invite my ninth-grade baseball team up to collect their certificates…”
As I called out the name of each boy, handed them their certificates, and shook their hands, the cheers almost blew the roof off the gym. I spotted Keylon’s family down in the front row waving and calling his name. Otis ran straight off stage and hugged an older lady. Even for someone like me, it was a moment that warmed my heart, and I wanted to search Sharn out there and then, but there were still another five guest speakers to sit through.
As the last one finished, I jumped out of my seat and made off in the direction where she had been sitting. The gymnasium had become a hive of activity; students celebrated their achievements with their families and friends and teachers congratulating them. Some of the boys flocked around me, asking me about the summer program. When I looked in the direction of Keylon, he just grinned. I’d thought to bring some flyers with me, so I handed them out and left them to it.
After spending ten minutes searching, I realized Sharn wasn’t there.
She was gone.
Chapter 25
~ Sharn ~
“This looks great, Dad. Russ, your calzone smells amazing,” I said as I cut into my chicken cacciatore.
“Well, I thought we deserved a night out after the last few months. You didn't have to leave your event early, though, sweetie.”
I swallowed the mouthful of food and forced a smile. “It’s fine. I still have next week to say my goodbyes. I can't believe summer break is here already.”
It wasn't fine. But not for the reasons Dad suspected.
“Man, I used to love summer. No school,” Russ said.
We all laughed, and I realized how good it felt to be out with my family, away from the house. Since Mom's stunt last week, Dad had been more determined than ever to drag the divorce through court.
“How's the band, Russ? You know, it might not have been the path that I would've chosen for you, son, but I'm damn proud of you. Russ Macer, the rock star.”
I noticed a slight blush creep over his cheeks. Russ didn't embarrass easily, but Dad had successfully rendered him speechless. “Thanks, Dad. The tour has been really successful. We have a good following now. I can really see it going somewhere. Maybe not billboard success, but we just want to play for our fans.”
“That's great, Russ. Just remember your sister back in little old Gainesville when you hit the big-time.”
We ate the rest of the meal reliving our childhoods and favorite memories. It was exactly what I needed, but it wasn't enough to erase Keefer from my mind.
He had looked so good at the award ceremony; I couldn't tear my eyes away. In his usual track pants, jersey, and baseball cap he was hot, but in dress pants, tailored shirt, and jacket? He looked so good it should've been illegal. When he'd taken to the stage, I’d had to fight the urge to run to him and throw myself at him. Or punch him. I couldn't decide.
Seven whole painful days and I still didn't know where we stood, or if there was even an us anymore. He hadn't tried to call or text, and he didn't reply to the text that I sent him Wednesday morning to let him know that I survived the family drama. As the week wore on, the frustration I felt toward him s
pun into anger. But when my eyes found him in the crowded gymnasium, it all evaporated. Nothing, not even my pride or self-worth, could stop the heated looks and silent promises that we shared during his speech.
“Sweetie, everything okay? You didn’t hear a word I just said, did you?” Dad brushed my hand with his fingers and I blinked. “What? Yeah. Sorry, just tired.”
“Not going to bail on your old man, I hope? I was hoping we'd go for a drink to talk decorating and plan for the new house. It's going to need a woman's touch.”
“Yeah, sis, let’s go get this old fool wasted and get him to agree to a game room and bar in the yard.”
Dad laughed and I felt hopeful. Hopeful that we could all move on from this. “Not likely, son. Not likely.”
“Okay, let’s go. I don't want you two getting into trouble.”
~
“Yo, Miss M. I hope you're not gonna cry on us today.” Kenny bounced toward his chair, a huge grin on his face.
Jared high-fived him, adding, “Yeah, I don't do chick tears. Even if it is you, Miss M.”
I smiled, shaking my head. “I'm sure I can wait until after class, boys. Okay, take your seats everyone. I know it's your last class with me, but we still have stuff to get done.”
A low rumble of moans broke out, and I laughed to myself. I had no intentions of making them work, not really. I just liked messing with them.
I couldn't believe how quickly the year had gone. One minute I was standing outside GHS a bag of nerves, and the next minute, I was getting ready to say goodbye to my classes for the summer.
“Settle down, everyone. I've got a couple of things I want to say.” Chairs shuffled and heads turned as silence fell over the room. “Thank you. Thank you for helping me settle into my job at GHS. Thank you for making my days that little bit more interesting. And thank you for all working so damn hard. Enjoy your summer because you all deserve it.”
A single hand rose in the air.
“Yes, Keylon?”
A slow smirk spread over his face. “Miss M, did you just curse?”
