Foxworth Academy

by Chris Blewitt

  His dad was already out in the backyard with the bucket of baseballs. When Brett was twelve, he showed a strong interest in baseball, so his parents had a batting cage installed. To the left of the cage was an in-ground pool which they kept open for a few more weeks. The property sat on over a half-acre of land and was also big enough for a stone patio with a large grill and a table and chairs.

  “It’s pretty nice outside, we’ll eat on the patio tonight,” his dad called from the inside the cage. He stood behind a pitcher’s net, forty-five feet away, ball in hand.

  Brett stepped into the cage, put on his helmet, and started to loosen up. Raising the bat high over his head with both hands, he dipped low to the ground as if touching his toes, up high again, left and right. Brett took a few practice swings, stepped into the batter’s box, and tapped the plate. He had a nice wide, athletic stance.

  “Let’s work on hitting to the opposite field,” Dad said.

  The first pitched was smacked to the right, opposite field for a right-hander.

  “Good, again,” his dad said.

  He pitched about ten more balls and Brett hit them exactly where he intended them to go.

  “Okay, sacrifice fly time.”

  “Let me just hit,” Brett called back.

  “There’s gonna be times where you need to hit it

  high and drive in a run, Brett. You don’t need to swing for the fences every time.”

  Brett satisfied his dad by driving low with his body and hitting the ball high over his head a few times.

  “See? Easy, right?”

  Brett didn’t respond, he just kept swinging away. After twenty more minutes, he was spent, and his dad told him that was enough for today.

  “Baseball, again?” came a voice from the back of the house.

  Brett ignored his sister and took off his helmet, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

  “How was school?” her father asked.

  “Great, they announced they’re going to do Romeo & Juliet for the school play this semester. I’m going to try for the lead.”

  “If there’s anyone who can play the lead, you sure can,” her dad encouraged her.

  Reilly was obsessed with acting. She’d spent a week in the summer at a children’s acting camp at the local YMCA; all she wanted to do when she grew up was be an actress.

  “Too bad they won’t give the lead to a seventh-grader,” Brett chimed in, walking into the house.

  “Enough, Brett. Encourage your sister,” his dad said.

  His mom, Lauren, came home shortly thereafter and Dad cooked dinner for the family. They ate outside, enjoying the warm evening. Everyone went their separate ways afterward. Dad read a book in the living room, Mom and Reilly watched the latest reality series on TLC, and Brett went to his room to finish his paper on the...ugh...microwave oven.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Fortunately for Brett he was not called on to read his five-page report on the wonderful microwave oven the following day. They only got through a handful of students before Mr. Martin told the students to pass the papers up and he would grade them over the weekend. He went to his desk and grabbed two small pads of sticky notes, one pink, and the other blue.

  “James, Misty,” he called on the two students nearest him, “please hand each boy a piece of blue and Misty, hand each girl a pink piece.”

  The two students took the pads from Mr. Martin and walked around the room, handing each one a sticky note, before returning to their desks.

  “Now, please write your name on the paper, scrunch it up into a ball and pass it forward.”

  It was just like they had done earlier in the week with their paper subjects, and the students wondered where this was going. And also like before, Mr. Martin went to the closet and pulled out the old bingo tumbler and sat it on his desk. He collected the balls from the students, tossed them into the tumbler, and started rotating them around.

  “Two students will be selected this semester for a special project of epic proportions,” he began. “You will take this assignment seriously and without fail. You may choose to decline of course, but most students do not,” he chuckled. He spun the wheel around and around, stopping once and switching directions.

  The students gazed in eager anticipation, their eyes focused on the papers, trying to find their own distinguished crumple.

  Mr. Martin stopped turning the wheel and he flipped the metallic door open. He smiled at the students as his hand dipped inside. He fished out the first ball of paper, a blue one. He opened it and read the name aloud.

  “Brett Logan.”

  The students gasped, some even clapped as they turned their gaze to Brett whose mouth hung open, his face as red as a tomato.

  “And joining Mr. Logan,” Mr. Martin said, pulling out a pink ball and unraveling it, “will be Ms. Ally Davidson.”

  More hoots and hollers from the class. Everyone looked at Ally, who did a mock bow with her head. Emotions ran through Brett; shock, embarrassment, fear, and trepidation. Soon the bell rang to signal the end of class. Mr. Martin had to raise his voice to get the attention of Ally and Brett. “Please stay a minute you two.”

  All of the students exited the classroom until only Brett, Ally, and Mr. Martin remained.

  “How do you feel?” the teacher asked.

  Brett shrugged his shoulders and Ally said, “Okay.”

  “Well, I would think you’d be honored to be chosen.”

  “Oh yes, we are, “Ally said, then looked at Brett, “I mean, I am.”

  “I am too,” Brett stammered convincingly.

  “Good, then I assume neither of you want to decline your assignment?”

  Both students shook their heads.

  “Great, we’ll begin Monday,” Mr. Martin said and turned to his desk.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Martin?” Ally asked. “Umm, what is the assignment? Like, what were we picked to do?”

  The teacher turned back to them and smiled. “What have you heard?”

  Ally and Brett looked at each other, then back to the teacher. “That’s the thing,” Brett said. “No one has said anything about this class. They just said it was cool. I don’t even remember anyone saying anything about being picked or nothing.”

  “Listen,” Mr. Martin started, “this is history class in a school. You will learn things in this class. You will study in this class. You will take exams in this class. But I’ll you give you one thing you said that was correct.” He leaned in close and softly said, “It’s definitely cool.”

  Brett and Ally stood there as the teacher walked back over to his desk. He took the bingo tumbler and put it back into the closet. “Now you better get going or you’ll miss your next class. You’ll find out your assignment on Monday.”

  They turned, walking out into a deserted hallway.

  “This is so cool,” Ally said, turning to Brett. “Don’t ya think?”

  “Yeah, I mean, no one ever said anything about being picked. What do you think we’re picked for? I hope it’s not some paper that only we have to do.”

  “Nah, it can’t be that simple. And, he said it was definitely going to be cool.”

  By the time they got to lunch, some of the students could be seen pointing and whispering to each other, but not everyone was in on the secret. The disclaimer they signed the first day of class prevented the students from discussing anything that happened in the class, even with fellow students. The only ones to know that Brett and Ally were picked for the assignment were a handful of their fellow classmates.

  Brett sat down at his lunch table and looked around. Bubbly Krista was jabbering on about something that happened in her English class with Tommy and Liam. Frankie stared off in the distance until Brett met his eyes. He couldn’t tell if Frankie was angry or jealous but he was definitely not happy with Brett.

  “So, anything cool in history class today guys?” Krista asked.

  Brett shook his head. “Nothing, really. Right Frankie?”

  “Nothing,�
� Frankie replied solemnly.

  They made their way to the lines at the front of the lunchroom. Brett surveyed the tacos and took two. Suddenly Brett was bumped from behind. His tray slipped off the rails, but he managed to catch it. Unfortunately the plate with the tacos crashed to the ground. A few people nearby started laughing as Brett bent down and started picking up the mess.

  The laughter grew and he could see behind him that those in line were laughing too. He turned his head and found the cause of this disaster: Lance Hawk.

  Lance stood there, a big grin on his face. His buddies besides him were elbowing him and laughing.

  “Poor sap,” one of them said.

  Brett, although shy and someone who kept to himself, was no pushover. He could handle these situations. He’d rather talk his way out of a fight, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t stand up for himself. He quickly picked up the tray and walked toward Lance, a scowl covering his face.

  “I’ll take that, son.” An older man in a white apron grabbed the tray out of his hand and stood before him and Lance. “Accidents happen. Seems like everyday around this place. Go get yourself a new tray and plate.”

  Brett just stood there staring at Lance.

  “Go on now, back in line,” the man said, nudging Brett away from the scene.

  Slowly, Brett moved backward, staring Lance down as he went. He grabbed another tray, got his tacos, an apple and some lemonade, and went back to his table.

  “Nice move,” Frankie said, snickering.

  “That jerk Lance pushed me,” replied Brett.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Krista said. “I heard he’s a jerk, too. Someone told me he just moved here from New York.”

  Brett bit into his taco and warm orange grease dripped down his hand and onto his plate. “So, anyone wanna go to the movies this weekend?” he asked between bites.

  They all agreed to meet at the theater that night to see the latest Avengers movie. Brett finished his lunch and took his tray and plate toward the dishwashing window. When he got there, Lance had just finished stacking his tray.

  “Have a nice spill?” Lance joked.

  “I wouldn’t do that again,” Brett replied, calmly stacking his own plate and tray.

  “Oh yeah?” Brett didn’t look at him and started to walk back toward his table.

  “Hey Logan,” Lance called out, following close behind, “stay away from Ally.” He turned and walked away, leaving Brett standing in the middle of the lunch room.

  Stay away from Ally? Were they together?

  <><><><><>

  Liam and Tommy arrived at the movies about the same time that Brett got dropped off by his dad.

  “Where’s Frankie?” Liam asked.

  “Said he couldn’t make it, wasn’t feeling well. You get tickets yet?”

  “Nah, just got here. Let’s get them before it sells out.”

  Liam and Tommy each bought their own ticket, and Brett bought an extra one for Krista, who had yet to arrive. They waited outside for only a few minutes before Krista showed up, but when she got out of the white SUV, she wasn’t alone. The two girls were both dressed in tight jeans and tank tops—white for Krista, pink for her companion. They both had sweatshirts draped over their arms. Brett thought Krista looked really good, but her friend looked even better with her short, blond hair brushed back behind her ears.

  “Hey guys,” Krista said. “This is my cousin, Nicki. Nicki, this is Liam, Tommy, and Brett.”

  There were no handshakes, just an awkward wave of the hand.

  “Here’s your ticket,” Brett said. “I didn’t know you were bringing anyone.”

  “That’s okay, we’ll grab an extra one. Here,” she said, handing Brett a ten dollar bill.

  “Thanks,” Brett said. He was torn over whether to take the money or not, but this wasn’t a date, so he took it.

  Nicki bought herself a ticket and they went inside. The guys each bought a popcorn and soda and the girls bought some candy. By the time they reached the theater, the previews had already started, and finding five seats together seemed impossible. The lights went out while they fumbled around, searching for seats. Liam and Tommy found two together and sat down. Brett followed the girls into the aisle ahead of them and they found three together. Brett sat down awkwardly next to Krista thinking he’d rather be with the boys. But what could he do now?

  The previews started, and shortly thereafter, the movie came on. Brett offered his popcorn to Krista who took a few handfuls. Halfway through the movie Krista jumped at a scary scene, instinctively grabbing Brett’s arm.

  “Oh, sorry,” she whispered. She smiled, leaving her hand on Brett’s arm a little longer than she needed to.

  “Ah, it’s okay,” Brett muttered. He smiled, turning his attention back to the movie as she removed her arm. What was that? They had been friends for over five years. He thought she was cute, but just something about her didn’t click with him. The rest of the movie was a blur to him as he pondered the situation that occurred. Was she interested in him? More importantly, was he interested in her?

  The movie ended and they made their way out of the theater.

  “Man, that was awesome,” Tommy said.

  “Dude, Mr. Sparks is freakin’ insane,” Liam said. “Remember when he jumped off the roof with that wire? Electricity flyin’ everywhere! What’d you think, Brett?”

  “Awesome movie,” he replied. “Can’t wait for the next one.”

  “What’s the plan, guys?” Krista said, “It’s only nine-thirty now. My mom is picking us up at ten.”

  “Same here,” Liam said.

  “Me too,” Brett replied.

  “Brett, we can give you a ride,” Krista said. “It’s basically on the way home.”

  Oh boy, he thought.

  “Ahh, whatever. I’m sure my dad won’t mind picking me up.”

  “It’s fine, really,” Krista added.

  “Ok, I’ll text him.”

  This is weird, Brett thought. He pulled out his phone and texted his dad. The reply came back: OK 10:15 sharp.

  The group went across the street to a strip mall and went into a Rita’s Water Ice store. Each one of them ordered their favorite sugar and shaved ice flavor and they walked outside and sat at a table. They talked more about the movie and about school. Brett learned that Nicki went to a different high school, and from the looks of it, she seemed to be taking a liking to Liam. Brett felt a little strange that Krista acted like nothing whatsoever had happened between them in the movie theater.

  When it was time, Krista’s mom picked them up outside of Rita’s and dropped Brett off at his house. He locked the door behind, said goodnight to his mom who was waiting on the couch, and then climbed the steps to his bedroom where he crashed onto his bed.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The weekend flew by. Brett had a baseball tournament in New Jersey on Saturday in which they came in second, and on Sunday he played nine holes of golf with his dad before the family relaxed by the pool. By Monday, his thoughts shifted, focusing on Mr. Martin’s class. And Ally. Whatever project they were going to be working on, he was sure glad it was with Ally Davidson. He saw her as they both made their way to class. Brett wore dark baggy jeans and a white hoodie. She was dressed in jeans and an oversized pink top with a black belt. She looked good. She saw him and smiled.

  “Ready for class?” she asked

  “Guess so,” replied Brett. “Should be fun, I hope.”

  “Definitely,” she replied.

  They walked into class and took their respective seats. There was a murmur of anticipation flowing through the students as they anxiously waited for today’s class to begin. Mr. Martin stood at the front of the class with his arms folded. He was dressed in a black short sleeved golf shirt and dark gray pants. He smiled briefly as he said, “Let’s begin.”

  The class hushed in silence.

  “Mr. Logan, how was your weekend?”

  “Good sir,” Brett replied.

  “
And you Miss Davidson?”

  “Great, Mr. Martin,” replied Ally.

  “And no changing of your mind?”

  They both shook their heads.

  “Good, good, then come with me,” he said, gesturing with his hand.

  Ally glanced at Brett, a look of surprise on her face. Brett returned the look with a shrug. They both gathered up their belongings and got up from their chairs.

  “No, no, leave your stuff there,” Mr. Martin said.

  They followed Mr. Martin to the back of the class and stopped at the closet door.

  “Be back in five, class. Be good.”

  He pulled out his set of keys and opened the closet door, flipped on a light switch and gestured Brett and Ally to enter, which they cautiously did. He closed the door behind them. The walk-in closet was just big enough for the three of them. On either side were shelves of school supplies, cartons of folders, old maps, and various books. In the corner was a dustpan and broom which Mr. Martin moved to the side. He bent down and pulled a lever on the floor to reveal a hatch-like entrance.

  Brett and Ally took a step back.

  Mr. Martin flipped open the two foot by three foot piece of floor that was on two hinges. He got up and grabbed a flashlight from one of the shelves. “Ready?” he asked Brett and Ally.

  They stared at him and then back at the floor. “What’s down there?” Brett asked.

  “History,” replied the professor with a grin. Neither of them moved and he shrugged his shoulders and said, “Suit yourself.” He started to walk back to the corner when Ally spoke up, “Wait, we’re coming.” She grabbed Brett’s hand and they walked to the corner. Mr. Martin bent down and sat at the edge of the hole, his feet dangling over the edge. He slowly lowered himself until his feet found the steps and he walked down.

  “Come on down, one at a time,” he called from below.

  Brett looked at Ally and said, “Want me to go first?”

  “No way, I’m going first,” she replied anxiously. She followed Mr. Martin in the same fashion and walked down the dark steps, the only light coming from the flashlight below.

  Brett did the same. The short trip down ended not in a cavernous tunnel, but in a small room.