At lunch one day, Tanner got Monica Montegue, who was a ham and might have done it anyway, to sing, “Itsy Bitsy Spider,” hand motions and all, to Mr. Jackson, one of the assistant principals. Mr. Jackson was a pretty good guy and he let Monica finish the song.
Just before basketball practice on Friday, Tanner noticed a tiny freshman cheerleader quite thoroughly eyeing Sprout Monroe, one of the team’s best players. Tanner told her to give him a kiss. With Sprout being one of the shyest kids—and tallest—in the school, Tanner knew he’d never ask the tiny cheerleader out. The little girl walked up to Sprout then literally jumped up and hung from his shoulders as she kissed him, her feet dangling a foot and a half from the ground. Sprout was smitten with love and Tanner actually felt pretty good about the deed.
It had been a good week. Tanner had some innocent fun, and though he knew he was going to have to eventually sort out appropriate ways to use his newly discovered powers, for the time being, he was having some good-hearted entertainment.
CHAPTER 10
Saturday, November 28, was the morning of the preseason scrimmage. It was a four-team affair including Kearsley, a charter school called International Academy of Flint, Flint Hamady, and Flint Beecher. All three were city schools, smaller in size than Kearsley but competitive in basketball. Coach Piggott had been persuaded that beefing up his preseason and non-league schedules would be advantageous once the state tournament began. Piggott was mostly hoping to just get through the year without getting his knee caps broken, but others had higher hopes for the season. Jessie Thomas entered the gym with TJ Harding. Clay was already lagging behind, watching Kearsley and Beecher warming up. He noticed as he approached the coach that Piggott clearly wanted a word with him.
“Mr. Thomas.”
“Morning, Coach.” Clay thought about offering his hand but decided against that. He was wearing one of his favorite shirts.
“Got Jack Harding puttin’ pressure on me to start his son at the point.”
“Why’re you tellin’ me that?”
“Just wanted you to know I told him he could kiss my you-know-what. Gotta let people know who’s the boss.”
“Wouldn’t want you gettin’ in trouble with Jack, Coach. I thought you worked for him.”
“That’s down at the scrap yard. Here in the gym, I’m the boss.” Pete Piggott’s posturing in front of his best player’s dad was a defense mechanism—an attempt to make himself feel better about the fact that Jack Harding nearly scared him to death.
“Well, I’m looking forward to a good year, Coach. Have a good scrimmage.”
“You too...I mean, enjoy. I guess you’re not scrimmaging! Ha, that’s a good one… ‘you too!’ You didn’t bring your shoes, did ya? ‘You too.’ I’m a stitch!”
Clay finally escaped, grateful to not be touched. He climbed a few rows of bleachers, shook hands with Jack Harding, said hi to a handful of other parents who had already arrived, and sat next to his wife.
“What’s Piggott all smiles about, Clay?” Jessie asked. “Don’t see him smiling like that too often.”
“Seems nervous about something.” He leaned close to Jessie so TJ couldn’t hear. “I guess Jack’s puttin’ a little pressure on him to play Kevin at the point. Be interesting to see what happens.”
“Do you like that coach, Mr. Thomas?” TJ asked.
“I try to like everybody, TJ. I have to admit that he’s a little harder than most to like, but I try.”
“Kevin seems to like him for some reason. He seems too sweaty to me,” she smiled.
TJ was a sweet girl. Jessie seemed genuinely pleased with Tanner’s new girlfriend. Her real name was Tangerine. Tangerine Jacqueleene Harding—her mother had a keen sense of humor. “TJ” fit her nicely though. Cute name; cute girl. She reminded Clay of Jessie. Jessie was the kind of woman he never got tired of looking at. He counted his blessings that she had married him. Clay noticed Tanner looking up at TJ several times during warm-ups. He would smile, then swish another jump shot. His shot looked good. His thigh bruise had pretty much healed, and Clay was looking forward to watching him play again. TJ seemed to be looking forward to it too.
All three opponents during the day attacked with full court pressure. Tanner was handling it nicely, but Coach Piggott kept inserting Kevin into the point guard position and he wasn’t doing so well. Piggott would pull him and Jack Harding would start boiling. When Kevin was playing the shooting guard position, he did quite well, but he looked uncomfortable at the point. A junior, up from the JV, by the name of Lance Mankowski, seemed much better suited to backing up Tanner. Kearsley played well, winning the first two scrimmages, but the final one against Hamady was going down to the wire. Hamady was ranked number three in the state in the Class C preseason rankings and was giving Kearsley a great game. At approximately 6’4”, their best player, LaDainian Hairston, looked a lot to Coach Piggott like the kid that had bought the gun from Jack Harding—long braided cornrows that ended at a tattooed chain around his neck. And he played angry, reminding the coach of the chill he felt when the kid at Jack’s office looked him in the eyes. With 50 seconds to go, Kevin made a turnover and compounded the error with a foul. Coach Piggott pulled him from the game and Jack Harding blew a gasket. While Hamady’s star player was making both free throws to take the lead, Harding made his way to the bench. Whatever he said to Piggott was kept quiet enough that no one heard it, but Pete Piggott just about passed out. His body more or less crumpled to the bench, and he began massaging his kneecaps. Tanner noticed the problem and called time out.
“Is there something wrong, Coach?”
Jack Harding made his way out of the gym. Kevin Harding looked mortified and sat with his head in his hands. Piggott was sweating more than usual. “No, everything’s fine. Let’s see if we can hold the ball for the last shot. It’s just a scrimmage. Win or lose, let’s just see how we handle this last possession. Thomas, if you get a chance, take it to the hoop and make somethin’ happen.” That was a lot of words from a man who seemed to be hyperventilating.
Luke Simms inbounded the ball to Tanner. Flint Hamady seemed willing to let the clock wind down, so Tanner dribbled the ball in the backcourt until ten seconds remained. Hamady had dropped back into a 3-2 zone, hoping to keep Kearsley on the perimeter for the last shot. At just under the ten second mark, Tanner passed the ball to his left to Mike Powell, then followed his pass and received a handoff as he ran by. He took two dribbles to the baseline, elevated, and neatly sank a twelve-foot jumper over the outstretched hand of LaDainian Hairston. The horn sounded before Hamady could retrieve the ball from the net. Hairston swore and kicked the ball against the wall. As Kearsley’s team celebrated and congratulated Tanner, Coach Piggott and Kevin Harding didn’t move from the bench. The crowd, mostly of parents and other family members, managed to clap and cheer a little uncomfortably. The season hadn’t even started, yet there was an air of anxiety that was unmistakable. It was going to be an interesting year.
***
The next afternoon, after attending church together, there was almost no discussion in the car. Jessie didn’t even ask about eating out, which was very unusual, but Clay was relieved. Everyone, including Clay, seemed preoccupied with his or her own thoughts.
Clay couldn’t get the possibility of talking to someone about his mind-control powers out of his mind. From what he had seen and a few things he had heard of late, he was certain that Tanner had discovered that he too could control minds, and he was using the power somewhat recklessly. Clay had been wondering if mind-control powers could be inherited genetically. Could there be a biological reason? Clay was also considering visiting a neurologist because it seemed to be more than a coincidence that both Tanner and he had almost died by strangulation at birth with no side effects. Maybe there was a neurological explanation. Maybe starving the brain of oxygen at birth had influenced each brain in a miraculous way. He was also considering visiting a psychiatrist. It might do him some good to talk out what he’d gon
e through over the last nearly 30 years. Maybe he could get some insights on how to break the news to his wife and how to guide his son. He dreaded the thought of how Jessie might react, but he actually had hopes that talking to Tanner might improve the relationship that he longed to have with his son. Too often he had stepped aside while his wife had raised his son. Clay was also struggling with what he felt might be horrible consequences if he shared his secret gift with anyone, let alone his wife. Deciding what to do was consuming his thoughts.
***
Jessie couldn’t get John out of her mind. She wasn’t in love with John, but she felt certain that she was falling out of love with Clay. His low self-confidence, his non-assertiveness, and his lack of passion were wearing thin. Was she just going through a mid-life crisis? Was she not justified in expecting more from Clay and wanting more for herself? Was she just being selfish and worldly? What would a split-up do to Tanner and Clay, and how would her parents react? Was John the kind of person she was looking for? Jessie had been warned by Carlee to be careful and to not trust John, but what did Carlee really know about John? Jessie was mildly concerned that she had seen a bit of a temper lately with John, something that she never saw in Clay, but he was still treating her like a queen.
When Jessie was a little girl, she loved the stories of the prince riding in on horseback, rescuing the fair maiden and living with her happily ever after. As beautiful as she was, she somehow always just saw herself as the plain, fair maiden, looking for a fairy tale ending to her life and dreams. When Clay had entered her life, he was so stricken by her that he treated her like the princess she had always dreamed she’d be. She fell in love with him because he had loved her so much. When she first became pregnant with Tanner, she had visions of a large, perfect, happy family, but then she almost lost her only child and she was unable to have others. Her dreams would never be completely fulfilled. She remembered very little about that day. She recalled Clay telling her that it wasn’t her fault, and she believed him, but she didn’t know why she might have believed it was her fault. Her lack of memory of that day had nagged her over the years, but currently those thoughts were overpowered by what she was going to do next about John.
***
Tanner could hardly concentrate now that he understood his power. He’d decided to keep it a secret, but he was using it so much that he felt that he was losing control of it. He wasn’t afraid it wouldn’t work; rather, he was afraid that he was going to hurt someone or lose who he really was. He was having a blast, almost addictively playing with his power, but he wanted a scholarship that he earned and a girlfriend that liked him for who he was. He feared disappointing his parents or slipping up and being discovered and losing those who were close to him. The debate was simple: use the power for his own benefit or not? The conclusion thus far had been to use it.
CHAPTER 11
Pete Piggott was on edge and barely slept the rest of the weekend. It was now third shift on Sunday night and Pete was tired—tired and scared. What was he going to do about Jack Harding? He couldn’t quit his job; he owed Jack too much money. He couldn’t be looking over his shoulder every minute of the day either; the season was too long for that. If he valued his kneecaps, and he rather did value them, was he going to have to give Kevin the point guard job? The last thing Jack had said before storming out of the gym was, “I wasn’t kidding when I said I could have your kneecaps broken.” Pete needed some protection.
Usually on Sundays, Pete arrived at the salvage yard ahead of Jack. He would go into the office, punch in his time card, and start a pot of bad coffee. It was cold at night in late November, so Pete wouldn’t leave the office until he had to, and he wouldn’t leave without a tall cup of coffee. On this particular night, however, Pete had something additional in mind. Jack Harding had dropped that .22 in a drawer in his desk. If Pete needed protection, a gun might do the trick. He carefully opened the drawer, and sure enough, the gun was there.
It was a Ruger .22 caliber pistol. With only a four and a half inch barrel, it could easily be hidden in the pocket of his coat. The precision-molded polymer grip included an internal safety lock and a ten-round magazine. Pete was pretty certain he was more likely to shoot himself than any goons trying to break his kneecaps, but he felt safer with the gun in his pocket anyway. With his coat buttoned, hat pulled over his ears, gloves in place, and large coffee cup in hand, Pete left the office and started his first trip around the salvage yard. When he returned, intent on refilling his coffee cup, Jack was seated in his desk chair, waiting.
“Have a seat, Pete.” Piggott dropped into the chair and unbuttoned his coat so he didn’t look quite so much like an abominable snowman. “I guess it’s time I made a few things clear to you. You owe me money, and it’s time to pay up.”
“You know I can’t pay you, Jack. I already give you a third of my check, but each week the balance is bigger than the week before.”
“That’s true; so what do you propose we do about that?”
“I already paid back better’n ten times what I’ve borrowed over the years. How ’bout forgiving the debt.”
“How ’bout you play Kevin at the point and I hold off breaking your kneecaps?”
“First game’s Tuesday. That’s what you want? Kevin plays the point instead of Thomas?”
“That’ll keep your knees healthy for a couple more days. And if I tell you to take the Thomas kid out, take him out.”
“Out of the game?” Afraid for his own well-being, Piggott realized that his boss had him backed into a corner. “Okay, Jack, I can see you’re serious. Whatever you say. Now I got some work to do.” Pete leaned back and then thrust his head forward over his belly, propelling himself with difficulty from his chair. As his fat body lunged forward, his coat swung backward and the handle of his .22 banged against the arm of the chair. Pete sucked in a quick breath and tried as best as he could to glance casually at Jack. Jack didn’t seem to notice, however; he was smiling and already looking forward to Tuesday.
***
On Tuesday night, a decent crowd showed up for the Kearsley Hornets’ home opener. It was a league game against Lapeer West. The West JV team won by a dozen points, but Kearsley’s varsity was the favorite in the nightcap. Clay was sitting about four feet from Jessie.
On the way out of the house, Jessie couldn’t find her purse. As she raced around the house, Clay was petting the dog. “Aren’t you going to help?”
“Do you need your purse? You’ll more’n likely leave it in the car once we get to the game.”
“Of course I need my purse. I always take my purse.”
“And then you leave it in the car once we get to the game.”
“There are things that I need.”
“What good are they if you leave your purse in the car?”
“Then I won’t leave it in the car, okay!”
“Did you check by the door?
Jessie rolled her eyes, then checked by the door. There it was. She walked back into the kitchen and began to cry. Clay attempted to put his arms around her, but she pushed him away. “If you would have helped, I wouldn’t be so frazzled. If you knew it was by the door, why didn’t you go get it?”
“I didn’t know it was by the door. It was just a suggestion. Come on; let’s go to the game. You’re just nervous about the game tonight. I’m nervous too. Tanner’s gonna do great.”
“I needed my chap stick; that’s why I needed my purse. You could have helped.”
Once in the parking lot at the game, when exiting the vehicle, Jessie left her purse on the passenger side floor. Clay restrained from saying something. It was that time of the month, obviously, and that meant to be careful. So Clay was giving Jessie a little room in the bleachers. Jessie was glad for the room. She didn’t want Clay close to her. If he cared more about her, he would have helped her find her purse. John was more considerate than Clay. Plus John would be in the crowd and she didn’t want Clay practically in her lap. The room was just what she needed.
The horn sounded, calling an end to pre-game warm-ups, and the crowd rose for the playing of the National Anthem. Lapeer West’s starters were announced and then the lights went down and a spotlight illuminated Kearsley’s bench. The spotlight would be aimed at each starter as he ran to half court.
The public address announcer began with Mike Powell at one forward. Mike was about 6’2”, 210 pounds. He wasn’t a great basketball player, but he was strong and physical like the football player that he was. He played tough defense and rebounded very well, but he didn’t score much.
The next forward announced, at about 6’3”, was Luke Simms. Luke ran the floor well and, ironically, was on the receiving end of a lot of Tanner Thomas passes, the opposite of the football season. He had been a sophomore on the team last year and started the last few games.
The starting center, Tommy “Sprout” Monroe, was called next. Last year before Christmas break, Tommy was a 5’11” backup guard who needed work on his ball handling. One week later, he showed up at practice at 6’4.” He literally “sprouted” five inches. He miraculously “blossomed” from a guard with forward skills to a forward with guard skills, which happened to be a much better package. Luke Simms had looked Tommy over carefully and asked, “Hey, Sprout, did it hurt?” which was a question everyone was wondering. The nickname stuck, and after two additional inches of growth, Tommy was now the 6’6” center for a very good team. He was a third-team all-leaguer last year.
Kevin Harding was announced as one starting guard. He was 5’11” and had a pretty nice shooting stroke. He wasn’t very comfortable running the show, but handled the ball reasonable well as a secondary ball handler. He made all-conference honorable mention as a junior.
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