by Tim Green
“Mom, I’m stupid in school.” He swallowed because it hurt to say. “I can’t read.”
His mother stared at him for a moment. “Exactly.”
“Exactly what?” he asked.
“You can’t read well,” she said softly, “but you will.”
Danny would have argued with his mom about going into school early Monday morning to see Ms. Rait and talk to Mr. Crenshaw, but he was still horrified by the way he’d behaved Friday night. He considered himself lucky that his mom hadn’t taken away his phone and his Xbox and grounded him for a month for telling her to shut up. He spent the weekend doing the ice treatment and being quiet and as helpful as he could on crutches. Cupcake called, all excited about the bonfire, promising Danny would love it as soon as he could go. On Monday morning, he went along quietly, bracing himself for the embarrassment that was sure to come.
“I texted Ms. Rait.” His mom backed the car out of the garage.
Danny sat beside her with the crutches wedged between him and the car door. “What did you say?”
“I apologized.” She checked both ways before pulling out of their driveway. “Profusely. That means ‘a lot.’ Then I asked if she’d meet with us.”
“And what did she say?”
“Fine,” she said, punching the air with her unlit cigarette. She used it like a drum majorette with a baton. “Fine!”
“That’s it?”
“That’s all I need.” His mom gave a short nod. “Humble pie. I’ve had it before. Nothing wrong with it. Works on even the hardest cases, and Ms. Rait’s not a hard case.”
“She had me fooled,” Danny said. Ms. Rait reminded him of his Pop Warner coach, Coach Hitchcock, who’d been a sergeant in the Marines.
“We’ll see.”
It was strange being at the school early. The teachers’ parking lot was only half-full, and the hallways were empty and quiet. Many classrooms they passed were still dark, but Ms. Rait sat at her desk and waved them in.
When she saw Danny’s crutches, her eyes widened for a moment. She regained the blank look on her face before she said, “Please sit down.”
Danny and his mom took the two desks closest to the teacher. Danny felt embarrassed for his mom, sitting there in a middle school desk, but she smiled warmly. “Thank you so much for agreeing to sit down with us, Ms. Rait.”
“That’s not a problem.” Ms. Rait had her dark hair pulled back tight, and it made her look older and sterner. “What is a problem is seeking exceptions to the rules, so if you’re here for that, this will be a very short meeting.”
Danny’s mom dipped her head, shaking it sadly before she looked up. “No, that’s not why we are here. We are here to apologize in person, both of us, and to politely ask you for a second chance. No strings. No exceptions.”
Ms. Rait pursed her lips. “I assume this has something to do with your crutches?”
Danny looked at the floor, his cheeks hot.
His mom spoke clearly. “Yes. You’re absolutely correct. That’s what it took. Yes, I got caught up in the hype. Then Danny got hurt, just running. He should be fine, but we don’t know that, and it reminded me of the end of my husband’s career. They thought he’d be fine too, but he wasn’t.”
The room went silent.
Danny tuned out his mom’s comment and looked at a poster on the wall showing Taylor Swift with a stack of books. Something about reading, he guessed.
Finally, Danny’s mom spoke again. “They say those who don’t learn from history are doomed to repeat it. We will abide by all your rules, without question. We just humbly ask you to forgive us and give us another chance.”
Ms. Rait blinked at them. She took a deep breath and nodded to herself. She sat silently in thought. It seemed forever . . . before she finally spoke.
“This back-and-forth . . . it’s no good,” Ms. Rait started. “I can’t teach unless I have a plan. I execute the plan. I stick to the plan. You’re in, then you’re out, now you’re suddenly in again.” Ms. Rait threw her hands up in the air. “This is really it, folks. I won’t go back a third time.”
Danny’s mom stared at Ms. Rait. The silence became uncomfortable.
Danny’s mom cleared her throat. “So you’ll do it? You’ll teach Danny to read?”
“Yes, that’s what I said.”
Danny’s mom popped out of her seat. She was beside the desk clasping one of Ms. Rait’s hands in two of her own. “I wasn’t sure what you were saying, but Ms. Rait, you won’t regret this. Danny is going to be the best student you ever had. I mean the best at being the hardest working. I know he has a lot to learn, but he will. Oh, he will.”
Danny’s mom pumped the teacher’s hand until Ms. Rait blushed. “All right. Good. Can you get to my house around five thirty?”
“He’ll go straight from practice,” Danny’s mom said.
“Practice?” Ms. Rait said. “He’s hurt.”
“Injured guys have to watch,” Danny muttered.
“Oh. Well, I’ll be happy to take him home afterward,” Ms. Rait said.
Danny’s mom held up her hand. “No such thing. I’ll get him when you’re done. You’re doing more than enough. Thank you. Danny, thank Ms. Rait.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” Danny kept his head and voice low from embarrassment.
“I’ll see you in class, Danny.”
They left and walked back through the school toward the front offices.
“That went well.” His mom mussed the top of his hair.
“We’ll see.” He was thinking about Mr. Crenshaw. He saw a red plastic fire alarm on the wall and considered pulling it to avoid the meeting. He thought that might be some kind of a crime, though, and wondered if, when you pulled the handle, it sprayed invisible ink on your hand that the police could see.
Before he could come up with a better plan, his mom knocked on the counselor’s door. Mr. Crenshaw opened the door to greet them, then showed them to the couch before he pulled up a chair facing them. He pointed at the crutches. “I heard you hurt your leg.”
“Foot.” Danny raised his foot slightly.
“Sorry, foot. But I heard you’ll be back for the big game.”
“That’s the plan.” Danny fell silent.
Mr. Crenshaw turned his attention to Danny’s mom. “How are you today?”
She sat on the edge of the couch with her hands folded in her lap. “Well, we had a very nice meeting with Ms. Rait, so, so far, so good.”
“I’m glad to hear that. I’m also glad you came to see me. I like Danny a lot. He’s a great kid.”
“Yes. He is. I know he’s our only child, but I can’t imagine a better one.”
“That’s so nice to hear.” Mr. Crenshaw sounded for real, but all this cheerleading made Danny uncomfortable because he felt something else was just around the bend.
“But . . . well, sometimes, lately, he isn’t quite himself,” Danny’s mom said.
“Can you tell me what you mean?” The counselor acted like he knew nothing, which annoyed Danny.
“Well, he’s here in the first place because he fought with the Markle boy.” His mom shrugged as if pounding some kid’s face in was a standard way to start out the school year. “But there’s been things with me, too. Yelling. Slamming doors. He broke a lamp. It’s just not like him.”
Mr. Crenshaw raised an eyebrow. “Danny?”
Danny shrugged and looked at his crutches.
“Is your mom right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Danny looked at the counselor’s kind face. There was no judgment in it, and unlike most adults, Danny didn’t feel like he had to answer a certain way to keep him happy.
Danny shook his head.
Mr. Crenshaw nodded that it was fine. He turned to Danny’s mom. “I don’t want to push him.”
“How can he get better if you don’t push him?” Danny’s mom sounded a bit impatient.
“Mrs. Owens, Danny has had
a lot of things happen to him recently.” Mr. Crenshaw spoke with soft kindness. “When people experience traumatic events, their heart can kind of freeze, to protect itself, make it hard. That can—and usually does—change how a person acts.”
He paused to see if Danny’s mom was following him. She patted Danny’s knee.
“Now, you love him and you’d like to see him back to the way he was before his heart froze, so to speak. And my job is to help.” Mr. Crenshaw leaned forward in his chair. “But I don’t want to use a hammer and chisel, because when you break ice that way, you can break what’s inside it as well. Think of me as a heat lamp. I want to melt the ice slowly, and when it’s safe to do so, Danny will tell us what’s wrong. We just have to be here for him, listening and warming him and keeping him as safe as we can. Does this make sense?”
“That’s all you want me to do?” she asked. “Just be there? No coaching?”
“Right. Just be there. It seems like you’ve been very understanding so far. Danny’s lucky to have a mom like you.”
“Oh—” She waved him off.
“It’s true. Many parents aren’t as understanding,” Mr. Crenshaw said.
“Well.” His mom looked at her finger and twisted her wedding ring, then stood up and shook Mr. Crenshaw’s hand. “Thank you.”
Danny spent the day thinking about his frozen heart when he wasn’t thinking about schoolwork. Even on crutches he got to Ms. Rait’s class with time to spare and sat down behind Janey. She didn’t speak to him, but she didn’t give him a nasty look either, so he started things off.
He sighed loudly. “Well, you can say ‘I told you so.’”
She turned around with a frustrated look. “That’s not what I wanted to say. You didn’t call me all weekend.”
He smiled. “Phone works both ways, you know.”
She hung her head for a moment. “I thought you were already mad, then Cupcake told me about your foot and I figured I was the last person you wanted to hear from.”
The bell rang and they had to catch up in the hallway and at lunch. By the end of the day, things were back to normal between them, and that felt good to Danny. He was actually feeling upbeat as he crutched into the locker room. He used the bathroom, and since he was in no hurry because he couldn’t practice, he was fixing his hair in the mirror after washing his hands when someone spoke behind him.
“Hey. Owens.”
Danny turned and was surprised to see Markle standing there with all his gear on minus his helmet.
“Guess what?” It was Markle’s nasty tone that seemed so out of place. It was as if they hadn’t buried the hatchet less than a week ago.
“What?” Danny asked automatically.
“You hurt your little footy?”
“It’s a stress fracture.” Danny scowled.
“Yeah, whatever.” Markle glanced over his shoulder to make sure they were alone before he said, “Just know this: you might as well not even worry about coming back.”
“What are you talking about? Why?”
“Because we don’t need you. We’ve got a new running back now.” Markle smiled that arrogant, mean smile Danny thought he’d seen the last of. “Me.”
Football practice was never easy. Danny could remember moments with his face in the steaming grass, sweating and struggling to get those last push-ups, or the burning in his legs from running sprints until he was dizzy and sick. In those moments, Danny recalled longing for relief from the heat and the grind, a seat on the bench, a mouthful of cool water, a patch of shade.
Now, he had all that—his dreams come true—but he was miserable. There were no “Dan-eee, Dan-eee” chants. No one even said his name. They didn’t look his way. They were getting ready for the Westfall game and the opposing team’s massive line. All eyes were on Markle, and Markle wasn’t disappointing them. He ran mean, like his words of betrayal to Danny. It was betrayal, to have pretended to make peace in front of Jace and the rest of the team while secretly resenting Danny, even hating him.
“Markle!” Coach Kinen’s shout had an edge that brightened Danny’s spirits and he eagerly looked up from the blade of grass he’d been knotting to watch the spanking Coach Kinen’s voice seemed to promise.
Coach Kinen stomped toward Markle as the player jogged back toward the huddle. “What’s your read on that play?”
Danny snickered to himself and shifted his leg and the ice bag to allow his foot a more comfortable position on the bench.
The confused look on Markle’s face was priceless. “The free safety?”
“Yes!” Coach Kinen hugged Markle to him, slapping the back of his helmet. “Yes, the free safety. You ran the crossing route and drew him away, and that’s why Carmody was wide open on the post. Touchdown, gentlemen, because everyone does his job. And Markle’s only been back at running back for a couple days, but he knows his assignments.”
Coach Kinen looked over at Coach Willard. “I love this kid, Coach Willard.”
Coach Willard looked like a mountain in the middle of them all. “As you should, Coach. As you should.”
Danny’s delight turned to nausea.
He clenched his teeth and wondered how he could expose Markle for the selfish, backstabbing jerk he really was.
When the team finished practice with sprints, Danny was jealous. He never thought he’d miss sprints, but he did. He’d rather suffer along with his team than work leg machines or sit there with his leg elevated and an ice bag on his foot, feeling less than useless. When Coach called the team together, Danny got up and used his crutches to get to the middle of the field. Coach Kinen didn’t even wait for him to get there. He missed half of the speech, but he got there in time to hear Coach Kinen praise Markle again.
“If we can do like Markle, all of us, raise our game, answer the call when we’re needed most, we will not only win this game, we will win the big game, the championship.
“All right, bring it in, men. ‘Championship’ on three. One, two, three . . .”
“CHAMPIONSHIP!”
Danny remained quiet.
The team broke apart and headed to the locker room. Danny lagged behind. The two coaches who’d stopped for a private meeting caught up to him halfway to the school.
“Danny. How’s that foot feeling?” Coach Kinen sounded like he’d only now even noticed Danny was alive.
“Pretty sore.” Danny tried to strike a tone somewhere between pain and toughness, but felt like a wimp.
“Yeah, it’ll take some time, but you’ll be back. Dr. Severs thinks so.” The coach shucked a stick of peppermint gum before folding it into his mouth and giving Danny a quick pat on the back. Then both coaches surged past him to continue their discussion.
Danny paused to rest his armpits and watch them go. He strained to hear anything they might be saying about him until it hit him that they just didn’t care.
It happened that fast.
One injury, and he was no longer the darling of Crooked Creek. He wasn’t Dan-eee, Dan-eee, Dan-eee.
He was just Danny Owens.
Cupcake came out of the school, saw Danny, and broke into a grin. Cupcake walked over to him, put his arm around Danny’s back, and gave him a squeeze. “Bro, you don’t know how lucky you were to miss those sprints.”
Danny tried to explain to his best friend that he’d been thinking the same thing and why it just wasn’t true. Cupcake gave him a knowing smile. “Aw, c’mon. Stop kidding me. Hey, there’s my brother. Let’s go.”
Cupcake helped Danny up into Herman’s truck and then handed in his crutches before circling around to the other side where he got into the passenger front seat.
“How’s the foot, Danny?” Herman looked at him in the rearview mirror.
“Pretty sore.” Danny liked the way that sounded now, better than when he’d answered his coach.
“Yeah. I bet.” Herman put the truck in gear and held up his left hand. “Had one of those myself once. Hairline fracture in my hand. Nothin’ they could do, s
o I taped it up, took some Advil, and just kept milkin’ the cows.”
Danny was horrified that he somehow looked soft. “I think it’s different with your foot.”
Cupcake glared at his brother. “Yeah, it’s different with your foot. You can’t even walk if it’s your foot. Right, Danny?”
“That’s what the doctor told me.” Danny felt a wave of gratitude for Cupcake. “He said stay off it for five weeks until he sees me or I might mess it up and not be able to run again.”
“Herman. He’s Danny Owens. He’s headed to the NFL. We’re not talking about milking cows.”
Herman glanced at his brother. “Milkin’ cows put that shirt on your back, you little turd.”
“I’m not saying anything bad about milking cows. I’m just saying that Danny is on a different program. His arms and legs and feet, those are his cows.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Herman sulked until they got into town. “Hey, you guys want an ice cream?”
“Sorry, I can’t. I gotta get right to Ms. Rait’s. Would you mind dropping me there first, Herman?”
“Sure thing.” Herman went straight through the light, past the houses in town, drove another half mile, and pulled into Ms. Rait’s driveway. “Hey, Danny. I didn’t mean nothin’ bad about the tape and me keepin’ on workin’. I was just makin’ small talk is all.”
“No, I know.” Danny slid out of the back door and slipped on his backpack before steadying himself on the crutches. “Thanks for the ride, Herman. Thanks, Cupcake.”
Cupcake seemed pleased that the air was clear. “Hey, let’s get online later and kill some zombies, huh? I’ll ask Janey, too.”
“Sounds good.” Danny shut the door and watched them drive off in a cloud of dust. When he turned toward the house, he came face-to-face with Mrs. McGillicuddy.
“Well, hello.”
The cat gave a yowl and then wove in and out of his legs, purring insistently.
“I’d pick you up,” Danny said looking down at the cat, “but I’m handicapped.”
“That word is offensive.”
