Secrets: The Hero Chronicles (Volume 1)

by Mettey, Tim

  “Please wait right there, young man. I’ll go and see if your counselor, Joy Lemmins, is available to see you.” She turned slowly and walked down a narrow hall behind her desk. There were several offices on both sides of the hall. She stopped halfway down the hall, glanced in one of the offices, turned around to face me and walked back to me slowly. “Nicholas, Ms. Lemmins is ready to see you.”

  I walked past her and down the hall. I looked back, and she was already at her desk working.

  “Nicholas Keller, right?” The voice was coming out of the office to my left. “Come on in and shut the door.”

  The door was covered in white paper and had different, colorful shapes and words all over it. It looked like a bulletin board from a kindergarten classroom. Joy Lemmins was standing behind her desk. She was short and stocky with frizzy blonde hair going everywhere. She had thick red-rimmed glasses that framed her round, pale face. If anyone needed to be outside to get some sun, she did. Her office was outrageously decorated. There were lava lamps, strings of beads, and a large red pleather bean bag chair in the corner. I could smell something like sugar cookies, but I couldn’t see where it was coming from. Her office looked like a little kid had decorated it.

  “Please get cozy, so we can get to know each other.” She pointed at the bean bag chair, but I chose the normal chair in front of her desk. Her lips puckered together and then shifted to one side. I guess she wasn’t happy with my choice of seating.

  She wasn’t bothered long, because she sat down and began to speak with a large, toothy smile. “My name is Joy Lemmins. I’m going to be your counselor and friend here at Winsor High, home of the mighty Cougars.” Then she let out a small roar and swiped her hand through the air. I guess she was doing her Cougar impression. Scary.

  “So where are you from, Nicholas?”

  “We just moved here from Tatesville, Ohio.”

  “Oh goodness, that sounds like a pleasant place. It must be really nice. Was it hard moving away from your friends? That must have broken your wittle heart.”

  “No, the move has been okay, and my little heart is just fine.” What was wrong with this woman? If Cora was in here, I think she would have smacked her by now.

  “So why did you move here?”

  “My mom was transferred.”

  “Okay, what company is that?” She had a piece of paper out; it looked like she was taking notes. What was with all of these questions? She knew all of these answers, because they were in my school file. Cora always made sure to give them plenty of information on me so that people would not ask me these types of questions.

  “Excuse me, Ms. Lemmins. Not to be rude, but I thought that we were just going to go over my class schedule.”

  “Oh yes, we are, deary. I was just trying to get to know you better so we can become pals.”

  Did she just say she wanted to be pals? The look on my face must have given me away.

  “Don’t you want to be pals?” she asked, like I had just hurt her feelings.

  I ignored her question and looked down, hoping to avoid the question altogether. “Sorry, Ms. Lemmins, I just don’t like to talk much. I’m kind of shy.”

  Joy Lemmins was now peering through her red-rimmed glasses down at some papers on her desk. A minute passed and I began to feel uneasy.

  “Sooooo, are you on track with your academics?” Before I could answer, she said, “Yes, yes, yes, you are, you are.” She wasn’t talking to me, but to herself, and the scary thing was that she was answering back. She pulled off her glasses and squinted at me. “Mr. Keller, your classes look fine. You are taking a very difficult class load, but based on your past transcripts it looks like you can handle it. Hmmmmm, but something is missing, missing, missing.” Her voice whined and trailed off.

  “Ms. Lemmins, I can get whatever you’re missing. My mom is out in the lobby.” I stood up.

  “No, sit down, Nicky. I don’t think your mom can help because she doesn’t have what I’m looking for. It’s not a piece of paper, but something you haven’t done.” She put her glasses back on, folded her arms, and leaned back in her large chair, nearly tipping it over.

  “I haven’t done something, Ms. Lemmins?”

  “Extracurricular activities is what you haven’t done, my boy. You know, a club, a sport, or something. I know you’ve moved a lot, but you need to think about college. Great grades are only half of the equation.” Joy Lemmins continued to ramble on about what colleges are looking for, but I didn’t hear her. She was right. I hadn’t really done anything but go to school. Then I remembered something I did.

  I blurted out, interrupting her ramblings, “I play football. Well, I try to.”

  “Oh, football,” she said like she just smelled some rotten food. “Well, that’s not my first choice, but it’s a start.” The disappointment in her voice was evident. I bet she was hoping for Glee Club or Science Club. “I believe football started a week ago, but I’ll see what I can do.”

  She picked up the phone. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t noticed it before; her phone was completely covered with multi-colored gems. It shouldn’t have surprised me that her phone looked the way it did, because it matched the rest of the room. Crazy.

  “Yes, Gregory. I have a new student here who would like to try out for the football squad. Yes, Gregory, I’m well aware that you already started, but he didn’t have a choice. He just moved here with his mommy. Yes, he has his physical. Okay, Gregory, that’s super-duper, thanks. Yes, yes, I will let Mr. Keller know.” She hung up the phone.

  “Nicholas, you are all set. You start football tryouts tomorrow at 8:00 a.m. on the practice fields on the side of the school. If that doesn’t work out, I would like for you to consider something a little less barbaric. Oh yes, Gregory wants to make sure you are ready for hard work, because if you’re not, he said and I quote, ‘Don’t waste our time by coming in the morning,’” she said in her best rough man voice, and then she growled.

  I stood quickly. “Thanks Ms. Lemmins.” I grabbed my ID from her desk and hurried out of her office to escape.

  Cora was sitting in the lobby looking extremely anxious. Her legs were bouncing up and down.

  “Mom, are you ready?”

  Cora looked up at me with relief and met me at the front door. “Why were you in there so long? I was going to come in there and get you. I was worried.”

  “Don’t worry. I avoided her questions and tried to blend in, but . . .”

  “But what?”

  “I have football tryouts tomorrow,” I said, not knowing how she would respond.

  Cora waited until we were in the truck to say anything else.

  “You know you don’t have to try out for the football team here.” Cora’s words stung. She knew the reason why I played, or more accurately, sat on the bench. Dad had been a great football player, captain of the team. So if I couldn’t be with him, at least we could have this in common.

  “Listen, Nicholas, football is taken more seriously around here. It’s not like the other schools. They actually have cuts.”

  “Cora, I know I’m not good, but I would like to try.” I looked out the window, trying to hide my anger mixed with grief. Thinking about my parents made me sad, reminding me of how much I missed them.

  **

  “What are you watching, Cora?”

  She was standing in the middle of the family room, wearing her apron. She was glued to the TV. “I’m watching Entertainment Now.” Cora rarely watched TV, especially shows that had to do with celebrities and Hollywood types.

  “We have a special guest with us today,” the female host said. “You may know him as Doc Hollywood. It’s the one and only Dr. Chase Letterby.” There was a roar of applause from the audience.

  “April, it’s a pleasure to be here with you as usual.” The doctor looked like he had come out of a soap opera.

  “So, Dr. Letterby—”

  “April, please call me Chase.”

  The two of them were clearly flirting wi
th each other, not with words, but with their body language—and all on national TV. It made me sick to watch, but Cora was soaking up every moment.

  “Okay, Chase, it may shock our viewers to know that you are not a plastic surgeon.”

  “Yes, you are right, April.” He put his hand on her knee. She giggled. “I am not a plastic surgeon, even though I have had to do some plastic surgery in the past. I do a little of everything.”

  I looked at Cora and she was hanging on his every word.

  “Chase, you are too modest. I have heard you can do everything from taking out tonsils to brain surgery.”

  He just smiled at her and gave a larger-than-life, fake-sounding belly laugh.

  “So how did you get the nickname ‘Doc Hollywood’?” she asked.

  “April, I guess it’s because I have helped some celebrities over the years.”

  “Is it true that you performed a kidney transplant on Prince Matthew of Wales?”

  “Well, April, I don’t talk about my patients, but I can tell you that I have met him.”

  They both laughed.

  “Cora, why are you watching this garbage?”

  “I knew him from college. He was in med school when I was a freshman, but that was a long time ago.” She turned off the TV and walked back to the kitchen. She didn’t want to talk.

  TRYOUTS

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Cora dropped me off at school at 7:30 the next morning. I had no idea where to go or who to see for tryouts. There were six large practice fields, some with soccer goals, others with football goals. On the other side of the fields were three baseball diamonds that any minor league team would kill to have. Sitting by itself in the distance beside the large parking lot was a stadium. This stadium looked like it was taken straight out of Ancient Rome for the gladiators to fight in. It was a work of art with its large arches and dramatic pillars and columns.

  I walked through the rose-covered front entrance and walked up to the same secretary who was there yesterday. “Excuse me, I’m looking for Gregory. I think he’s one of the football coaches. I am here for tryouts.”

  In the same monotone voice as yesterday, she said, “Coach Greg Hoff is on Practice Field One getting ready for football tryouts. It has several bleachers around it.” She looked at her watch and said, “The coaches should be having their coaches’ meeting right now by the first set of bleachers.”

  I walked back out the front entrance and headed toward the practice field with the bleachers. The day was already getting hot and the humidity was creeping in. There was a group of coaches standing off to the side of one of the three large sets of bleachers. By the bleachers was a large sign that said “Practice Field 1.” The coaches were all listening to a tall, older man. I stood a couple of feet away from the group of coaches, waiting for him to stop talking so I wouldn’t interrupt. One of the younger coaches saw me standing there and walked over to me.

  “What do you need?”

  “I’m Nicholas Keller. I’m here for tryouts.”

  “Tryouts started last week. Sorry, you are too late.” He began to walk away.

  “Excuse me. Coach Greg knew I was coming, and he told me to be here at 8:00 a.m.”

  He turned back to me. “New recruits need to head over to the white trailer outside the locker room to get their football gear,” he said, pointing to the side of the school. “And, that’s Coach Hoff to you, not Coach Greg.” He walked back to the group of coaches still listening intently to the tall, older coach.

  I walked to the side of the school where there was a white trailer right up against the building next to a door that read “Locker Entrance.” I looked inside the trailer. Football equipment was scattered around, and I noticed some movement in the back.

  “Hello. I’m here for practice. I’m a new student,” I shouted into the dark trailer. The movement stopped and someone started to come to the front. He was having a hard time getting to the front because there was no clear path through all the equipment. The man that emerged was as tall as he was wide. He was wearing a green Winsor Football visor soaked with sweat. He had a whistle around his thick neck and a name badge that said “Coach Stenger.” He stood there staring at me. He was gasping for air like he had just run a marathon. His shirt was also drenched with sweat.

  “Are you here for tryouts?” he wheezed.

  I nodded my head yes.

  “You know tryouts started a week ago?”

  “Yes, I know, but I just moved here. My counselor, Joy Lemmins, talked to Coach Gr—Hoff.”

  “Well then, that’s a different story. What grade are you in?” He took a deep breath.

  “I’m going to be a tenth grader.”

  He went back into the trailer, climbing over and through the piles of football equipment. Inside the trailer it had to be at least ten degrees hotter than outside. A few minutes later, after a lot of banging and several curse words, he made his way back to the front carrying football pads, a helmet, and a white jersey.

  “Here, put these on,” he said. He was even more out of breath than before.

  “Where should I go to change?”

  “Right here. Just put the equipment on over your clothes.”

  “What about lockers?”

  “You only get to use the lockers if you are already in the program. You have to earn it.” He pulled out a small towel and wiped his red face.

  I took my equipment to the side of the trailer out of view from Coach Stenger and started to put on my pads. More guys began to show up over the next five minutes to get their equipment from Coach Stenger.

  “Hi, I’m Eric,” said a voice behind me.

  I turned around. Eric was shorter than me by a couple of inches. His long, brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and he had a bronze tan.

  “I’m Nicholas.”

  “So are you new to the school?” he asked.

  “Yeah, just moved here. And you?”

  “No, lived here all my life, but this year my dad is making me try out for the team. Not that I wanted to, but he used to play for Winsor back in his glory days, so he wants to relive his youth through me.” Eric shrugged his shoulders. “Well, it’s nice to meet you,” he said, turning to put on his equipment.

  Coach Stenger blew his whistle. “Let’s get out to the field, men! Let’s go! Let’s go!” He took the lead and trotted slowly out toward the field. We all walked behind his slow-paced jog.

  The hot August sun was beating down on the field. It had to be over 100 degrees. I felt like I could have a heat stroke at any moment. The cool water from the on-field water station didn’t quench my thirst, but it sure made the heat more bearable. I filled my cupped hands with water and dumped it over my head, providing some relief.

  There were coaches all over the practice field running different drills. I was assigned a group and told where to go. In the bleachers, people were actually sitting in the heat, watching players go through drills. While everyone else was doing drills, my group wasn’t. We were just running on the side of the practice field. Not only were we not taking part in drills, but we had also all been given football equipment that didn’t exactly fit. My equipment had to be at least two sizes too big. The jersey hung down to my knees, and every time I made a sharp turn my helmet would almost come off. It looked like I was wearing my older brother’s football equipment. Being only 5-foot, 9-inches and 145 pounds didn’t help either. I guess this is how they weed out new recruits. Let the equipment beat us to death.

  Coach Stenger blew his whistle. We all jogged over to him.

  “Okay, men, we only have five spots for the JV squad this year, and by the end of practice today you’ll know who made it and who didn’t. Now get out there and show us what you got!” Coach Stenger blew his whistle again with spit flying out of it, and we started to run up and down the side of the field again.

  We ran for about thirty more minutes. All of the coaches were now together in the middle of the field, including Coach Stenger.

&nb
sp; “Huddle up men!” One of the coaches yelled through a megaphone. We all circled around the group of coaches.

  “It’s time for the annual JV-varsity scrimmage.” There was some cheering. The cheers came from the bigger and older guys who apparently were on the varsity team. Most of the younger guys’ faces showed no expression; some looked terrified.

  “Hey, don’t worry about it, Nicholas. Coach Miller does this once a year. All we have to do is survive,” Eric whispered to me.

  “Who’s Coach Miller?” I asked Eric.

  “He’s the tall coach in the middle holding a clipboard. He’s the varsity coach, a legend around here. It’s his way or the highway. Did you see the billboards on the way here?”

  I nodded my head yes.

  “Those billboards were given to Coach Miller by some wealthy alumni to promote his team all over the state.”

  “Okay coaches, break up the guys into offense and defense. Let’s see what they got!” yelled Coach Miller in a deep, powerful voice.

  Coach Stenger divided the group of us into offense and defense and put us with the JV squad. I was put on defense. I didn’t know how he was dividing us up because we didn’t do any specific drills to determine our offensive or defensive skills.

  Those of us from Coach Stenger’s group stood out because we weren’t wearing the nice green practice jerseys that the JV players had on or the incredible gold practice jerseys that the varsity players were wearing. We all were wearing plain old, dirty white jerseys. The JV offense was the first to play against the varsity defense. I was lucky to be with the defensive squad, so at least I could watch first and try to learn something before I went out there to get killed. Eric was on the field playing quarterback in his white jersey, and every time he touched the ball, the varsity defense ran over him, usually leaving him flat on his back.

  “Switch!” someone yelled on the sideline. Both units came off the field. It was time for me to get in there, or at least that is what I thought. I stood on the sidelines waiting for my chance, waiting for the coach to put me in. Fifteen minutes had gone by and I still was standing on the sideline. I guess I should have expected this. It was my first day and the rest of our group had been practicing for a week already, if not longer.