by Tim Green
“It’s a symptom of the greater problem.”
Jennifer turned to Harrison. Speaking in a soft voice, she asked, “What happened, Harrison?”
“In football?”
“In school today.”
“He stood in front of the entire class and refused to sit down,” Mr. Fisk said. “Then he snapped Mrs. Zebolt’s ruler and threw it at her.”
“I didn’t throw it at her,” Harrison said.
Jennifer turned a glare at the principal that belied the gentleness of her voice. “Mr. Fisk, I’m asking Harrison his version of what happened. That’s customary in cases like this.”
“Mrs. Kelly, please, this isn’t a case.” The principal’s brow added four more lines of worry.
“Whatever you call it, I’d like to hear what my son has to say.” Her words didn’t leave room for anything else. “Go on, Harrison.”
Harrison looked at his hands. “I did a math problem at the board. Mrs. Zebolt told me to sit down, but she called me Harry. I told her that wasn’t my name, but she said she’d tell me what my name was or wasn’t and then the kids started calling me ‘Harry Johnson’ and laughing and I just stayed where I was. I said I wasn’t going to sit down until she called me Harrison. . . . That’s when she took out her ruler and switched it at me.”
“She hit you?” Jennifer’s voice whirred to life like a plugged-in vacuum cleaner.
“No,” Harrison said, “but I thought she was going to.”
“She threatened you with it?”
Harrison nodded. “I think.”
“She raised the ruler and switched it at you?”
“Yes.” He nodded.
Jennifer looked pointedly around the room at the three men.
Mr. Fisk sputtered for a moment. “This is the first I’ve heard of anything like that.”
“Did you bother to ask?” Jennifer almost came up out of her seat, and Coach’s strong hand seemed to be the only thing keeping her tethered to the chair.
It was Mr. Fisk’s turn to look down, and Harrison felt a small ray of hope. Up to this point he only had visions of how his whole life would come unraveled yet again.
“She tried to hit you,” Jennifer said patiently to Harrison. “Then what?”
“I didn’t even think about it,” Harrison said. “I guess I just grabbed the ruler and broke it and I threw it. I didn’t want to get hit. I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t want to do anything bad.”
Officer Lewin cleared his throat. “When I got to the room, he was just standing there. He came along quietly.”
Mr. Fisk shot the officer a dirty look.
“Mr. Fisk,” Jennifer said, “at this point my expectation is a full investigation into the threat of physical violence your teacher made to my son. You’d be fortunate if I didn’t also contact the attorney general’s office to have them press charges on a hate crimes violation.”
“Hate crime?” Mr. Fisk’s rosy cheeks turned pale green. “This boy isn’t a minority.”
Jennifer raised a single eyebrow. “Obviously you haven’t looked closely at his records. His maternal grandmother was a full-blooded Native American. Relax, Mr. Fisk. You’re lucky my husband is part of the faculty because that makes me reluctant to turn this into more than it probably should be.”
Mr. Fisk blinked and nodded. “And?”
“I want Mrs. Zebolt to apologize to Harrison, in front of the class. I then want him transferred to another math teacher. Also, all this talk about sports eligibility needs to end right now. There’s a pattern of harassment here that makes me burn.”
“Mrs. Kelly, I’m only the principal.”
“Mr. Howard assured me of his cooperation this morning, if that’s what you’re worried about, but I want you to take care of all the other loose lips around this ship. I want your support for Harrison, and for my husband.”
“Ron?” Mr. Fisk said. “You’re going along with all this?”
All eyes turned to Coach.
Chapter Thirty-Four
“IT’S BETTER NOT TO fight her, Mr. Fisk. I learned that early on,” Coach said.
Mr. Fisk pinched his lips together before he spoke. “Well, I’ll look into this, of course, and if Mrs. Zebolt did threaten to strike him I’ll have to take action. The union will have to be involved, you know that. . . . I can’t speak to the apology, Mrs. Kelly. We have to follow procedures.”
“That’s fine, but I want Harrison out of that class.”
“Absolutely. That’s in everyone’s best interest.”
“And I want him back at practice today. Don’t even think about suspending my son until you have proof positive that he did anything but protect himself from a physical assault.”
Mr. Fisk sighed deeply.
“What class do you have right now, Harrison?” she asked.
Coach looked at his watch. “My class. I had to have Miss Frank cover for me.”
“Well?” Jennifer stared at the principal.
Finally he spoke. “Harrison, you can go to class while I look into this.”
“And practice,” Jennifer said.
“Yes, that too,” the principal said. “Officer Lewin, please stay close.”
“That’s right,” Jennifer said. “Mrs. Zebolt might need to be restrained.”
“Jennifer, please.” Coach stood up. “I’ll take Harrison to class.”
Harrison didn’t think the staring and whispering could get any worse than it was his first day, but he had been wrong. He felt like the freak show at a state fair midway. Thankfully for him, Becky didn’t pay the rest of the school any mind. She sat with Harrison at lunch and talked to him like nothing had happened.
Halfway through his second sandwich, Harrison said, “You sure you want to sit here with me?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Becky’s eyes seemed to sparkle with mischief.
Harrison looked around, sending people’s gazes scattering like schools of fish in the shadow of a shark. “Everyone’s looking.”
“A lot of girls spend a lot of time in front of the mirror just hoping people will look.”
“Not this kind of looking,” Harrison said.
Becky reached across the lunch table and took hold of his wrist. “Let them look. I like you, Harrison. I liked the way you wouldn’t sit down when that old bat wouldn’t call you by your real name, and I know you’re not mean or dangerous or any of that nonsense. People are always scared of something new. My dad says that if you’re staying with the Kellys, that’s good enough for him.”
Harrison looked at her hand, afraid to touch it, and afraid to move.
“I’m sorry.” She took it away.
“No, don’t be sorry. That’s crazy. You’re, like, the nicest person I’ve ever met. You’re like the Kellys. Did you ever meet Mrs. Kelly’s mom, Mrs. Godfrey?”
“No, but Mrs. Kelly did my father’s will,” she said.
“She’s smart.”
“I’m going to be a lawyer when I grow up.”
“Not a fashion model?”
Becky’s cheeks flushed. “My dad says women should use their brains.”
“You don’t think there are smart fashion models?”
“What are you going to be?”
“A football player.”
Becky giggled.
“What?”
“I’m sorry. Justin Rabin told me you put your shoulder pads on backward. I know yesterday was the first time you ever played.”
“Did he tell you I ran him over like everyone else?” Harrison realized his words came out in a growl.
“Oh, don’t get mad. He practically worships you. Yes, he told me what you did to everyone. I just thought it was funny that one day you’re putting your shoulder pads on backward and the next day you’re ready for the NFL.”
“Coach says I can be great, that’s all. Football is my ticket.”
“I don’t doubt it,” she said. “Not from what everyone was saying. You know, no one listens to that jerk Leo.”
“That you won’t even be allowed on the team after today. That’s not true, is it?”
“Not from what Jennifer says.”
“Jennifer?”
“Mrs. Kelly,” Harrison said. “She said I could call her Mom, or Jennifer.”
“What? Mom?” Becky tilted her head. “I don’t get it.”
Harrison looked into her deep green eyes, searching for the joke. “Coach told you I was in their family. I thought you kept it quiet from everyone just to be nice, so people wouldn’t feel bad for me, being Coach’s foster kid and all.”
“I’m sorry, he said you were joining them, but I didn’t know they were your foster parents.”
Harrison looked away, then felt her hand squeeze his wrist again.
“No, don’t do that. I think it’s great. You’re so lucky.”
Harrison snuck a look at her. Her eyes were wide and honest and it made him feel much better. “I don’t know about luck.”
“I do. Coach and Mrs. Kelly are awesome.”
“Maybe I’m lucky now, right?” Harrison’s fingers strayed to the old bruise around his eye.
“For sure.”
He put his hand down in his lap. “And maybe from now on, everything is going to go my way, right?”
“Sure. Maybe.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
“HARRISON, IN MY OFFICE. Okay?” Coach called to him from across the locker room.
Harrison set his helmet down on the bench and marched in.
“Listen, everything’s fine, but I’m going to keep you out of the contact drills the rest of the week. Just to be safe. Oh, and don’t wear your rib pads.” Coach winked at him and shooed him out of the office.
For the next four days, Harrison had to stay out of contact drills, and that hurt. Worst of all was watching on Saturday when his team took the field against East Manfield. Harrison dressed in full uniform like everyone else and ran through the pregame warm-up drills, but when it came to game time, Harrison had to take a seat on the bench.
Coach put a hand on his shoulder pad and leaned over to whisper into his helmet’s ear hole. “Trust me, if there was any way to let you play, I’d do it. My career is hanging on this doggone game. We should win it, though, Harrison. We really should. Then next week? Look out.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
THEY DID WIN, BY two touchdowns. The team cheered and swarmed Coach, everyone reaching out just to touch him, and his face seemed to shine. When they got home after a long bus ride from East Manfield, Jennifer—who had driven to the game in her car—met Coach at the door and kissed him until Harrison blushed. They separated and both of them laughed as they each put an arm around Harrison and led him inside.
Jennifer took a roasted chicken out of the oven and pots of mashed potatoes, gravy, and steamed corn off the stove. Harrison wolfed down his food, hungry for the coming week, and eager to build his muscles and strength for the first football game of his life.
On Sunday they went to church. After a midday meal, Harrison put on some jeans and a T-shirt and met Justin at Dr. Smart’s big house on the hill. Justin led him around to the back, where a lawn mower sat in the detached garage.
“You ever drive one of these?” Justin pointed to a green John Deere riding mower.
“I can drive a tractor,” Harrison said. “That thing is easy.”
“Okay, I’ll let you do the easy part, this time.” Justin pointed to a push mower in the corner. “Next time, you do the grunt work.”
“I’ll push today.” Harrison reached for the small mower. “I owe you.”
“No.” Justin guided him toward the rider. “Just watch. I’ll do the detail work today, everything around the edges. Trust me, it’s a good payback. I’ll be done with this whole job in half the time and I need that. Doc doesn’t like to hear the mowers on Sunday.”
Harrison looked toward the house. He was hoping he might see Becky. “Are they home?”
“No, but Doc said they’d be back at three and he asked me to be finished by then.”
“Well, let’s go,” Harrison said.
They finished right at three and were putting the mowers away in the garage when they heard Dr. Smart’s Suburban pull up in front of the house.
“Doc’ll be happy.” Justin wiped sweat from his forehead. “Come on.”
Harrison followed Justin down the driveway, passing the house and the circular drive in front. He glanced up, hoping to see Becky, and was surprised not only to see her but to see her walking toward them with two bottles of orange Gatorade.
“Hey, guys.” She held out the bottles and smiled. “Dad said the lawn looks great and you need to stay hydrated. Here.”
Justin accepted the folded money she handed him. “Thanks, Becky.”
“Did you get all those math problems done, Harrison?” she asked.
“Uh, yup.” Harrison hated the sound of his low, gravelly voice.
Becky smiled. “Well, see you tomorrow.”
They watched her walk back up the hill. She turned and waved before disappearing into the house.
Justin stood frozen in place. “Man, she is the bomb.”
“Come on.” Harrison tugged Justin’s sleeve. “It’s not polite to stare.”
On the street, Justin told him the next job would be tomorrow after dinnertime. “I already told Mrs. Peabody you’d be working with me, but I’ll meet you there and show you where everything is and pay you for today. That’s only because I’ve got to get change for these bills.”
“You don’t have to pay me for today. I’m working off my sub.”
“Okay, I get it. Still, that was what, six bucks? You just made yourself fifteen, so I owe you nine.”
“You get thirty dollars for this?”
“Doc’s rolling in it. Another good reason for you to marry his daughter.” Justin grinned.
Harrison put him in a loose headlock and pretended to punch him in the stomach. “Don’t say that.”
They both laughed.
“Man, she sure is friendly to you,” Justin said.
“She’s friendly to you, too,” Harrison said.
“Not the same.”
They got to the end of the driveway, said good-bye, and headed their separate ways.
Back home, Coach was waiting to take him fishing, and the two of them spent the rest of the afternoon on the lake. The heat from the sun, the lawn work, and the fresh fish Jennifer cooked on the deck grill that evening left Harrison exhausted and happier than he ever imagined he could be. Then, just as he dropped off to sleep, something nasty crept into his mind.
He tried to make it go away, but it wouldn’t. It was a feeling that things were just too good. He’d never felt like this before, and what scared him about it was that it seemed someway, somehow, something almost had to happen to restore his life to its natural order.
And that’s where his mind dragged him, to a place where all the bad things that ever happened to him were stored up like an attic full of junk, just waiting for him.
A place that was dark and scary.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
WHEN HARRISON AWOKE THE next morning, things seemed much better, and as he forked the final piece of French toast into his mouth he began to think that maybe it was just a matter of time, and that he could get used to things being so nice.
Before he left for school, the phone rang and Jennifer held it out for him. “It’s my mom.”
Harrison blushed and took the phone.
“How are you, Harrison?” Mrs. Godfrey’s voice warmed him from the inside out.
Harrison watched Jennifer leave the kitchen. He could hear Coach’s footsteps upstairs. He cupped the phone in his hand and spoke softly. “Can things be too good?”
She chuckled. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Everything is . . . great. It feels like this can’t last.”
“You’ll have to get used to the fact that good things happen to good peopl
e. I believe that.”
“And I’m good?”
“I wouldn’t have sent you to live with my daughter if you weren’t.”
Harrison smiled. He told her about football and she promised she’d come visit and see a game.
At school, his bright thoughts from breakfast and his call with Mrs. Godfrey were confirmed. There was a lot less whispering and secret pointing than a week ago. Leo Howard still gave him sour looks, but they didn’t last as long because Harrison decided to glare right back until Leo looked away. Otherwise he almost fit in. Justin and Becky seemed more at ease around him too, and Harrison began to think that maybe, just maybe, Mrs. Godfrey was right and that he might have found a normal life.
At practice that afternoon, Harrison was finally allowed to hit again, and that’s what he did. He felt like a wild animal sprung from a cage. He didn’t bother searching out Leo or Leo’s buddies. Harrison just clobbered anyone who got in his way. Even Justin tried to tackle him during a scrimmage at the end of practice and Harrison blasted right through him without a second thought.
On their way into the locker room, their uniforms drenched in sweat and their hair matted to their heads, Justin asked Harrison why he hadn’t taken it easy on him.
“Are you kidding?” Harrison asked.
“Not really.” Justin scuffed his cleats on the pavement outside the locker room and looked at the ground.
Harrison slapped Justin’s shoulder pad. “Come on, Justin, I don’t know who’s who out there. I got to do my best on every play. I want to be the starting halfback when we play on Saturday. Besides, when I get going, all I see is people coming at me and red.”
“Red?” Justin stopped short.
“It’s like a mist, a crazy, angry mist.”
“That is crazy.”
Harrison shrugged and waited for one of their teammates to walk past and into the locker room. “Coach likes it.”
Justin rubbed his elbow. “I like it too, but not when you hit me.”
“Part of the game.” Harrison looked at his friend, hoping he understood. “Right?”
