Playing The Game

by Jeff Shelby

  That was met by moans and groans.

  Derek kept staring at me, and I held his gaze until he finally just shook his head and looked away.

  FIFTY ONE

  “You still wanna talk to me?” Coach asked.

  I was bent over on the baseline, trying to catch my breath, glad I'd already puked in the parking lot before practice. We'd run for close to thirty minutes at the end of practice. Guys were stumbling and shoving their faces into the trashcans near the end, red-faced and covered in sweat. If I hadn't emptied my guts after watching the video, I would've been one of the ones bent over the cans.

  I pushed myself up. I was dizzy. My mouth was dry. And we were the only two people in the gym.

  “Yeah,” I said and it came out as more of a rasp.

  He thought that was funny and chuckled. “Take your time, Mickelson. You'll be alright. Running's good for you. You're not gonna die.”

  “They raped her,” I said before I could change my mind.

  His gray brows furrowed together. “Excuse me?”

  “Amy Mitchell,” I said, glancing toward the doors to the locker room. “Derek and Ty and Blake. They all raped her at a party at Ty's house.”

  He stared at me for a few moments, blinking several times. “Mickelson, I'm not sure—”

  “It's on video,” I said. “There's video of it.”

  “Do you have the video?”

  I shook my head. “No. I don't have a phone. But it's out there. Half the school saw it today.”

  He rubbed a hand over his chin and took a couple of deep breaths. “Why are you telling me? Why aren't you telling the police? And who is this girl? Has she told the police?”

  “Her name is Amy Mitchell,” I said, my hands on my hips, my chest feeling less like it was going to explode. “She's a student here. No, she hasn't told the police. Yet. I think she's afraid of them.”

  “Who's them?”

  “Derek. And Ty and Blake.”

  He rubbed at his chin again. “Son, I have known those boys for a long time. Longer than you. I don't think they would—”

  “I saw the video,” I said. “That's why I was late. I watched it. A friend showed it to me. It's them. They did it.”

  “Is this girl your girlfriend or something?”

  I shook my head. “No. She's a friend.”

  His mouth twitched several times and he took another deep breath. He looked around the empty gym. It was startlingly quiet after there'd been so much noise. Like we could hear each other breathe.

  “Alright,” he finally said. “I will look into it. But you understand these are very serious accusations, son, right?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Of course.”

  He studied me, then nodded. “Alright. The girl. Is she alright?”

  I wasn't sure how to answer that. “Not really, no.”

  “You said she hasn't gone to the police yet,” he said. “Is she planning to?”

  “I don't know.”

  He nodded again and pinched his lips together, like he'd bitten his tongue. “Alright. I'll look into it. Thank you for telling me, Mickelson. And until I find out what's going on, let's keep this between you and me.”

  “Are you going to tell the police?” I asked.

  “I'm going to look into it,” he repeated again. “Then I'll do what's appropriate.” He nodded toward the doors. “Hustle up and grab a shower.”

  FIFTY TWO

  The locker room was empty when I left the gym.

  I took a quick shower, threw on my sweats, and pedaled in the direction of Amy's house.

  I didn't know what Coach was going to do with what I'd told him, but I figured that whatever he did, it was probably going to involve talking to Amy. I didn't want her getting surprised by that, and I felt I owed it to her to let her know before anything else happened. My gut churned again as I pedaled, worried about how she was going to feel about what I'd done.

  I leaned my bike up against her garage and knocked on the door.

  She opened the door and squinted at me with puffy eyes. “What are you doing here?”

  “I was on my way home from practice.”

  “Okay,” she said. “So why are you here?”

  “Can I come in for a second?”

  “No,” she said. “My mom's not home. She's still at work.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Okay.”

  She pushed opened the screen door and came outside onto the small porch, still in the same clothes from school, except she was barefoot. Her toenails were done like her fingernails, all sorts of crazy colors.

  “Why are you here?” she asked.

  “Um, I wanted to see how it went after you went back to class,” I said.

  She frowned, her mouth falling into a diagonal line. “About how you'd expect. But I'm fine. I don't need a babysitter.”

  I didn't know what “about how you'd expect” meant, but I guessed it wasn't good. “I didn't think you did.”

  “Then what are you doing here?” she asked again.

  She was irritated, but I didn't know if that was because I was there or because of what happened at school or because of something else.

  “I, uh...I told Coach Raymond,” I stammered.

  She blinked a couple of times. “You what?”

  “I told him,” I said. “About what happened.”

  Her eyes widened. “About me?”

  I hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. I just don't think they should get away with—”

  “Brady,” she said, her eyes bulging. “That wasn't your decision to make!”

  “I know, but—”

  “God! I told you I wasn't going to the police.” She ran a hand through her hair. “Did you not listen to me at all?”

  “Of course I listened, but you can't—”

  “Don't tell me what I can't do!” she said, her eyes full of fire. “Fuck. This was not your decision to make. It wasn't you.” She shook her head. “Why did you do it?”

  I looked away from her for a second, down the street. It was empty. No cars, no bikes, no pedestrians. Just concrete and asphalt and quiet.

  “I saw the video,” I finally said. “I saw what they did to you. I saw you tell them no.” I shook my head. “There's no way they should get away with that. What they did was—”

  “Yeah, I know what they did, Brady,” she said. “I was there. Drunk off my ass and unable to get out from under them as they stuck their dicks in me. So I know what they did to me.” She shook her head again. “But this wasn't your decision.”

  I stood there, my gut still churning. I knew it wasn't. But watching that video, it didn't feel right that they were getting away with it. I wasn't going to go all vigilante on them and seek revenge. That was ludicrous. The only thing to do, to really keep them from getting away with it, was to tell someone.

  “Do you think I'm gonna see you as some hero now?” she asked, staring at me. “I'll just think you're my knight in shining armor and fall to my knees, thanking you? Then maybe I'll fuck you as the ultimate thank you? Is that what you're looking for here?” She pointed at the house. “Should we just go inside and do it right now while my mom's not home?”

  “Jesus,” I said. “No. No. That's not—”

  “And then what?” she continued. “Then you'll just bail me like you did Cam? You fucked her and bailed her, so I'm next?”

  Blood rushed to my face.

  “Yeah, I heard about that,” she said. “Even the least popular girl in school still hears the gossip.”

  “Then you'd know that's total bullshit,” I said.

  “So you didn't sleep with her?” she asked, her eyebrows arching upward. “Really?”

  My heart hammered in my chest. “I didn't just have sex with her and bail her like that. I broke up with her because she lied to me. About you. You know that. I told you that.”

  “All I know is what I hear,” she said, putting her hands up as if she couldn't help but believe it.

  “Oh, right,” I said, piss
ed now. “Because everything that gets said at school is so true. You'd know that better than anyone, right?”

  Now it was her turn to blush.

  “And for whatever the fuck it's worth at this point,” I said, my anger taking over, “I only got together with her because everyone told me at Ty's that you were with Derek. I waited outside for you. I wanted to be with you. I thought you ditched me. I thought you were caught up in some bullshit drama with your ex-boyfriend. So I didn't know.” I paused, catching my breath. “But if you think I'd have slept with her if I thought there was any chance you liked me, you're crazy. And before you throw out some bullshit comment about me just wanting you for sex again, I would've sat there and talked to you all fucking night long and not slept with you and been about four hundred times happier.”

  She folded her arms across her chest and wouldn't look at me. I immediately felt guilty, for getting angry, for sleeping with Cam, for just everything. I wanted a time machine to go back a week and start all over.

  “He won't do anything,” she finally said, her voice quiet. “He won't.”

  She was talking about Coach.

  “He has to,” I said. “How could he not?”

  She shook her head. “He won't. I know it. And they are all going to blame you, whatever happens.”

  “Well, if he doesn't do anything, then I guess I don't have to worry,” I said.

  “They'll know you told him,” she said, staring down the street. “They'll know.” She shook her head again. “You don't know them, Brady. I've known them for way too long. They don't get caught. They just get patted on the back and they get away with everything.”

  “When no one stands up to them, I'm pretty sure that's right,” I said.

  I didn't mean for it to sound as shitty as it did, but the bottom line was I didn't think I was wrong. If no one ever stood up to them, why would they ever change their ways? Why wouldn't they just keep doing what they'd been doing?”

  “It's not just them,” she said. “I mean, it is. But it's basketball, too. It's gone on for a long time. It's just this thing now. No one can stop it.”

  “I don't believe that,” I said. “I really don't.”

  “That's because you haven't been around long enough,” she said.

  “Or because no one's tried to stop it,” I said. “I mean, what the fuck? Am I the only one who hears and sees all this shit and can't understand why no one does anything?”

  She unfolded her arms and turned around. She opened the screen door and stepped back into her house. But she held the door open and looked at me.

  “No,” she said. “You aren't the only one.”

  FIFTY THREE

  “What the hell happened to your face?” my dad asked when I walked in the door.

  He finally had a night off and was perched in the recliner when I walked in the door after leaving Amy's house. I’d forgotten that I hadn't seen him since fighting with Ty at practice and for a moment, I wondered exactly what had happened to my face. It felt like forever since I'd seen him. But then my brain kicked into gear.

  “Nothing,” I said, kicking off my shoes. “Happened at practice.”

  He powered off the TV with the remote and brought the recliner up to a sitting position. He walked over to me and examined my face like I was some sort of science project gone horribly bad.

  “That happened in practice?” he asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “How?”

  “Rebounding drill,” I said. “I took a shot to the face. I'm fine.”

  “One shot? To the eye and mouth?”

  “I'm fine, Dad,” I said, collapsing on the sofa. “Really. No big deal.”

  “Haven't we talked about how you need to be focused here?” he said.

  “Yeah, Dad,” I said, irritated. “Over and over.”

  “Getting into some fight at practice isn't being focused. It's being stupid. It's being—”

  “It was a drill!” I yelled. “Alright? Get off me already about it. I'm fine.”

  He stood there, still staring in that parental way where you can tell they know there's more to the story and they're trying to decide whether or not to push the issue.

  He decided not to and returned to his recliner. “Are you ready for tomorrow night's game?”

  “Sure.”

  “Sure?”

  “I'm ready, Dad. I still know how to shoot. And dribble.”

  He waited a moment. “Alright. How's your girlfriend?”

  I was on my back, staring at the ceiling. I'd told him a little about Cam. Not that we'd had sex in the apartment while he was at work, but he knew about her giving me a ride home. That we sat together at lunch. That sort of thing. “We broke up.”

  He paused. “I'm sorry. Or am I?”

  “Don't be,” I said.

  “Brady?”

  “Huh?”

  “What exactly is going on at school right now?” he asked. “You come home with a black eye and a messed up mouth, you seem ambivalent about the game, and you broke up with your girlfriend. This feels like last year all over again. Don't just tell me it's all fine.”

  I sighed and my eye started pulsating, like it knew we were talking about it. “Just school crap. And it's not last year, okay? Last year I was pissed about you and Mom. This is just...it's just school crap.”

  “What kind of crap?”

  “The kind of crap I don't really want to talk about.”

  “That's usually the kind of crap you should be talking about.”

  I put my hands beneath my head and laced my fingers together.

  He didn't say anything and I knew he was waiting me out.

  “I'm not crazy about the guys on the team,” I said finally.

  It wasn't a lie. I wasn't crazy about them. I just wasn't telling him why.

  “I'm not crazy about all the people I work with,” he said. “But sometimes you've gotta suck it up. Not everyone you come in contact with is gonna be your best friend.”

  “I know that,” I said.

  “You need to get along with them on the court,” he said. “You need to be a teammate. Whatever is going on off the court can't impact what you do on it. Scouts will see that. They'll think the worst.”

  Scouts. The people who apparently were going to determine my future, whether I wanted them to or not.

  “Doesn't mean you have to go play video games with them after school,” he said.

  I rolled my eyes and my black eye throbbed in protest. “I don't play video games.”

  “Whatever it is you guys do after school.”

  I couldn't imagine doing anything with them after school anymore.

  “What about the girl?” he asked. It was almost funny that he didn't know her name. “What happened there?”

  Well, she lied to me about this girl who was raped by my teammates...

  “Just a fight,” I said.

  He came over and sat on the portion of the couch I wasn't taking up. He laid a hand on one of my legs. “I'm asking you in all seriousness. Are you okay? And I know we don't have a lot of these conversations because we...we just don't. But you come home looking like this and you broke up with your girlfriend and I need to make sure you're okay.”

  I nodded. “I'm okay. I promise.”

  He stared at me for a long time, then nodded. “I'll believe you for now. Change of subject. Have you talked to your mom?”

  I shifted on the couch. “Sort of.”

  “Sort of?”

  I recounted our phone call.

  “You should call her back,” he said. “Not right this second. But...soon.”

  “I don't have anything to say.”

  “Hello would be fine.”

  “Why do you stick up for her?”

  He leaned his head back on the couch. “I'm not sticking up for her. But she's your mother.”

  “You always say that.”

  “Because she is.”

  “She birthed me. Think that's about it.”

&nb
sp; “And I think that's pretty unfair.”

  “Why?”

  “Because she took care of you,” he said. “She took care of us. She worked hard. She always made more money than I did. She housed us and fed us and clothed us and all that stuff. So she didn't just pop you out and leave.” He looked at me. “It wasn't about you. It was about us.”

  “What happened?” I asked. “Like, what exactly happened?”

  It was the question I'd wanted to ask for a long time but had been afraid to. Because I never understood it. One day they were my parents and we all lived together and then all of a sudden she was packing up and it was a shitty reality show I didn't want to be on.

  “Nothing exactly happened,” he said, his fingers tapping my leg. “It just...happened. I wasn't who she wanted me to be, and she wasn't who I wanted her to be. We probably knew a long time ago, but never did anything about it. So it was just sort of there and grew into this thing between us that I can't really explain. We were together, but we really weren't, just going through the motions. Then she decided she was tired of the motions.” He tapped my leg again. “It wasn't one thing, Brady. It was about a hundred.”

  “Yeah, but aren't you pissed at her?” I asked. “How can you even stand to talk to her? After what she did?”

  He looked down at the hand that was resting on my leg. “It takes a lot of energy to be angry,” he said. “And I just got tired of being angry.”

  “But you were, right? Angry?”

  He nodded slowly. “Like you can't even imagine. I was shocked. I knew we weren't happy, but I...I didn't expect...that. So, yeah. I was angry. I said a lot of things and did a lot of things that I'm not proud of.”

  “Like what?”

  He made a face and waved a hand in the air. “Nothing I want to rehash. Just saying and doing things out of being mad. Being...hurt. But I just got to a point where I was tired from being mad all the time. It wasn't changing anything. So I said when we moved out here that I wasn't going to be mad just for the sake of being mad. I left it all behind. I don't want to feel like that all the time anymore.”