Playing The Game

by Jeff Shelby

  “It's not bullshit,” I said. “I told him. Yesterday. So freeze me out all you want, make all your stupid threats.” I stared at him. “I don't fucking care. I'm not afraid of you.”

  “You think I hadn't already figured that out?” Derek asked, squinting at me. “Coach calls me, asks a couple of questions about the party, about her, and you think I don't know why that's happening? Really? You think I can't handle Raymond? How stupid do you think I am?”

  I looked away from him. Maybe Amy was right. Maybe there wasn't any beating him. He always seemed to have it handled. I wanted it to be a shock to him, that I'd gone to Coach and told him what I knew. The only thing it did, though, was to cause him to laugh at me.

  I took a step toward the door and he put his hand on my arm. I jerked it away.

  “But you shouldn't have done that, Mickelson,” he said, his eyes hard. “It was a mistake, and you can't take it back. And I can't just let that go. Tonight was just a small taste of what's coming your way.”

  I pushed through the door before he could say anything else.

  FIFTY EIGHT

  I spent most of the weekend in bed and on the couch, sulking.

  I'd pedaled home in the dark and my dad was waiting on the couch for me when I got there. But I didn't feel much like talking and after he'd tried a few times to ask me what had gone on and I stayed silent, he finally gave up and left me alone. I took a shower and headed to bed.

  He spent the majority of Saturday looking for a better day job, came home for a late lunch, then headed to the restaurant for his regular evening shift. He did the same thing on Sunday. I lay around on the sofa with a bag of chips, watching basketball and feeling sorry for myself. I tried to get into several books I'd grabbed at the library, but gave up after a few pages in each. I'd shoved the earbuds in my ears, trying to find some music to lift my mood, but nothing sounded right. By Monday morning, I'd convinced myself that I'd probably never play junior college basketball, much less D-1.

  I struggled out of bed, ate a quick breakfast, and rode to school.

  We were waiting for the bell in history, with Amy ignoring me and Jake trying to show me his newest drawings, when our teacher called my name. I walked up to the front of the room, and he handed me a pass.

  “Coach Raymond needs to see you,” he said, frowning. “Right now, apparently.”

  I walked back to my desk and grabbed my backpack off the floor.

  “Where are you going?” Jake asked.

  I held up the slip of paper. “Coach wants to see me.”

  His face darkened. “That doesn't sound good.”

  “No doubt,” I muttered.

  Amy's eyes flitted in my direction, then went back to her book.

  I walked out of the room as the bell rang and headed down toward the gym. A few stragglers were jogging to class and it was weird to see the halls so empty and quiet. The knot that seemed to have taken up permanent residence in my stomach grew bigger, making my footsteps heavier.

  A P.E. class was lined up in the gym, all of the students looking like they'd rather be walking into a fire than on the polished wood floor. The teacher was calling roll and glanced at me, then went back to his clipboard. I pushed through the doors to the locker room area and headed to Coach’s office.

  Coach was looking down at a yellow legal pad when I walked through the open door. He looked up at me from behind a pair of reading glasses perched on the edge of his nose. “Mickelson. Close the door and have a seat.”

  I shut the door behind me and sat down in the metal chair across from him. He removed the glasses from his face, pinched the bridge of his nose, and leaned back in his chair. He took a couple of deep breaths, his chest rising and falling, and then cleared his throat.

  “I'm going to get right to the point, Mickelson,” he said, then pursed his lips. “I've been informed that you've broken a rule.”

  “A rule?”

  He lifted up the yellow legal tablet, pulled out a sheet of paper, and slid it across the desk to me. “That look familiar to you, son?”

  I looked at it. It was the code of conduct we’d signed before the start of the season, basically saying we'd behave and that we understood that breaking any of the rules were cause for removal from the team.

  “It's the code of conduct,” I said. “I signed mine.”

  “Yes. You did,” he said, nodding slowly. “What does number eleven say?”

  I scanned the sheet. “No alcohol, drug, or tobacco use.”

  “Correct,” he said. “And you signed the agreement.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Anything you want to share with me?” he asked.

  I leaned back in the chair, the metal cold through my jeans. I wasn't sure if it was a trick question and we were playing cat and mouse or what was going on. I also wondered if I was the only one who was being called in or if the entire team under the gun.

  “Why am I in here?” I asked.

  The corners of his mouth twitched, and he rubbed at the gray stubble on his chin. “Brady, it's been brought to my attention that you may have violated the alcohol use rule. I need to know if that's true or not.”

  “Who told you that?”

  His mouth twitched again, and his eyes narrowed. “It doesn't matter how it was brought to my attention. I am asking you if you violated the agreement. Yes or no?”

  “Did you do anything about what I told you last week?” I asked.

  “Please just answer my question.”

  I chewed on the inside of my cheek. I didn't want to lie. But I also knew that there would be consequences if I admitted the truth. I wasn't sure what they would be, but I knew they'd be there. And it didn't seem fair in any way that I was the one sitting there.

  But all I could hear was my dad's voice.

  Do the right thing.

  “Yes,” I said. “I did. At a party a little over a week ago. I had a couple of beers. That was it.”

  He winced when I said it, and his mouth twisted into a deeply lined frown. He stared down at the agreement sheet on the desktop. He shook his head, the lifted his eyes in my direction.

  “Brady, I'm extremely disappointed,” he said. “These guidelines are very clear, and there is no excuse for violating any of them. That's why we have you sign the agreement. So that there can be no confusion.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said. “I'm sorry.”

  “Sorry isn't gonna get it done now,” he said, folding his arms across his chest. “I have no choice but to suspend you for the remainder of the season.”

  His words were like a jackhammer into my stomach.

  The remainder of the season.

  “What?” I said. “That doesn't—”

  “You violated the agreement,” he said, frowning at me. “It's no tolerance. Cut and dry. You're done.”

  My throat started to close up. I couldn't breathe. My entire body felt heavy.

  “I'll have to speak with Mr. Baffney,” Coach said, referencing the school's athletic director. “You will, too. You'll still be expected to attend practice as it's a class, but you won't participate. But the suspension takes effect immediately.”

  Tears stung the corners of my eyes. My head hurt. I wanted to scream at him, punch him in the face. How the hell had I gotten here?

  “I'm disappointed, Brady,” he said again, shaking his head. “You've let me down. And your teammates.”

  “My teammates?” I said, incredulous. “Are you kidding me?”

  He stared at me. “No, I am most definitely not kidding. It's them you've let down the most. We were on track to win the league championship for the first time in—”

  “Are you suspending them?” I asked, my voice rising. “Because if you're suspending me, then you have to suspend them, too.”

  “They didn't violate the agreement,” he said.

  “The hell they didn't!”

  “Watch your mouth, son,” Coach said, leaning forward. “You're still a student and I'm still—”

 
; “All of them were there,” I said, cutting him off. “All of them. Derek, Blake, Ty. They were the ones who told me it was okay to have a beer, that it was the only time we'd drink all season. Which was a load of crap, anyway. But those guys drank, too. So are they suspended, too?”

  “We are speaking specifically about you,” he said. “And, frankly, I'm disappointed that you'd drag them into this.”

  I stared at him for a moment. “Derek came and told you, right?”

  “It doesn't matter—”

  “Maybe with Ty?” I continued. “They come in together. Captains, right? Doing their duty or something like that?”

  He hesitated for just a second, but it was enough to tell me I was right, or at least pretty close to right.

  “Brady, it does not—” he said.

  “They know I told you,” I said. “About the rape. I told Derek after the game that I told you. So this is payback. After cutting me out of the game on Friday.”

  He shifted in his chair, like someone had goosed him. “I spoke to them about what you said happened and while I can understand that you are upset over losing your girlfriend—”

  “What?”

  He cleared his throat. “I understand that you recently broke up with your girlfriend and that she is now with Mr. Stoddard. While I can't say I'm a fan of this kind of stuff happening within the team, I'm aware that it happens. And I'm aware that feelings get hurt and that you all may not be the best of friends. But that's no excuse for making stories up.” He paused. “Especially when you leave yourself out.”

  My head was spinning. “Leave myself out of what?”

  “Out of whatever occurred at Mr. Hammerling's party,” he said, frowning. “Your captains confirmed your presence there that evening, along with your interaction with this other girl that you claim was assaulted.” He rubbed hard at his chin. “I'm aware that you like her, and that Mr. Stoddard had a previous relationship with her and how that didn't sit too well with you. And quite frankly, all of this just smells like all of you squabbling over girls. I'd be happy to deal with that with a whole lot of running until all of you fell down.” He paused. “But your use of alcohol forces my hand here.”

  My temples throbbed. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Not only had Derek figured out a way to make me look bad, but Raymond was actually buying it, too. I'd gone from thinking I had control of the situation to feeling like I was sinking in quicksand.

  Tears stung the corners of my eyes and I hated myself for crying. “They're lying. How do you not get that?”

  “Son, I understand that you're upset, but—”

  “I'm not your son,” I said, standing up. “And this is all bullshit.”

  “I already told you once to watch your mouth,” he said, angry.

  “Why?” I asked, shrugging. “I don't play for you anymore. Right? I'm suspended for the rest of the season, and I guarantee I'll never set foot on a court for you next year. Because I'll either be at another school or you'll be in jail. Hopefully both.”

  His face screwed up in anger. “What are you talking about?”

  “I told you about the rape,” I said. “And you didn't do anything. I'm not gonna shut up about it. You can believe their crap if you want, but I'm not gonna shut up about it. What's gonna happen when people find out you knew and didn't do anything, just to protect your captains? And did I mention it's on video and half the school has seen it?”

  His face colored. “I don't know anything about a video. Stoddard explained what went on. If anything, I think he was trying to protect you, given how much he said you had to drink. And the girl hasn't said anything. I looked into it.”

  “How? By asking Derek?” I shook my head. “Whatever. I don't care. She doesn't need to say anything.”

  I shoved the chair to the side. “Because I'm gonna say it all.”

  FIFTY NINE

  I stood in the gym for a long time, breathing in and out through my nose, like I was a bull about to charge.

  Only I didn't know where to charge.

  I looked around the gym. I wasn't going to play in there again. I hated my teammates, but I'd loved playing in the gym. The crowd. The noise. The heat.

  And now it was all gone.

  Why?

  Because I hadn’t played the game.

  Their game.

  Because I'd done the right thing.

  Well, I had violated the alcohol policy. I couldn't argue with that. But I was being punished because of Amy. Because Derek and Ty and Blake had gone to Coach and acted like they were the good captains and telling him something they hated to tell him, but they were doing it because it was the honorable thing to do.

  To get back at me. To make me look like I was pissed off over a girl and a liar.

  And it had worked.

  The kids from the P.E. class emerged from the locker room. They lounged on the bleachers, checking their phones, waiting for the bell. A couple of them glanced in my direction, probably wondering what I was doing.

  Good question.

  I walked out of the gym as the bell sounded, falling in step with the masses as they flooded the halls. I felt like a zombie, completely out of it. My feet were heavy, an effort to pick up. Claustrophobia closed in on me, and I felt like I couldn't breathe.

  I got to my next class and zoned out the entire time, the teacher's voice hollow and tinny in my ears. I stared out the window for an hour, unable to think or write or function. I was paralyzed. I didn't think there was anything I could do that would fix the situation. I'd been wrong. I couldn't win. Maybe I could do the right thing, but I couldn't win. Derek had me beat, and there didn't seem to be a damn thing I could do about it.

  The bell rang. I dumped my bag in my locker and wandered into the lunch room. I moved through the lunch line and took food that I knew I wasn't going to eat.

  “You alright?” Jake asked, coming up behind me.

  “Nope,” I said.

  “You didn't come back. What happened?”

  I picked up my tray and turned to the room. “I was busy getting suspended.”

  A half-smile was frozen on his face. “Are you kidding?”

  “Nope.”

  I headed for the table he and I had been sharing with Amy. I slid onto the bench and stared at the food on my tray. None of it looked appetizing.

  Jake settled in next to me a minute later, the contents of his tray splashing on to the table. He’d chosen the other lunch offering, some kind of soupy meat. “What exactly is going on?”

  “I'm done,” I said, shrugging. “Suspended from the team.”

  “Why?” he asked, his eyes wide. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  Amy claimed the bench on the other side of the table, setting down her tray. There was a chicken sandwich, fries, and steamed vegetables on it, same as mine.

  Jake glanced at her tray, then did a double take. “You're done with rabbit food?”

  She shrugged. “I'm hungry today.”

  Jake looked at me again, waiting for an answer.

  “Because I drank at Ty's party,” I said. “That's what I was told.”

  “So is everyone suspended? Everyone had to be drinking at the party.”

  “Just me,” I said, unscrewing the cap on the bottled water.

  “How the fuck is that fair?”

  I shrugged. “It's not.”

  “What are you talking about?” Amy asked.

  I didn't say anything.

  “He got suspended from basketball,” Jake said.

  Amy looked at me, then Jake. “Who did?”

  Jake pointed at me.

  Amy fixed her eyes on me. She was wearing eye make-up today, the thick black eyeliner she used to wear. “Seriously?”

  I nodded.

  “Why?” she asked.

  “Because I drank at Ty's,” I said.

  Amy studied me, like maybe she didn't believe me.

  But then I realized she did believe me. Because she had warned me.

  A
my's eyes stayed on me. “Did you say something to them?”

  “I've said a lot of things to them,” I said, pushing my tray to the side.

  She looked past me, over my shoulder, and I knew where she was looking.

  She moved her gaze back to me. “So they're getting back at you.”

  It wasn't a question.

  “They look pretty pleased with themselves,” she said, shaking her head. “Again.”

  “It's fine,” I said. “I don't care. Fuck them.”

  “I saw the guy from Arizona talking to your dad,” Jake said, grabbing more fries and dragging them through the gravy-like substance on his tray. “At the game.”

  I made a face. “That probably won't happen again.”

  “Arizona?” Amy asked.

  I didn't say anything.

  “University of Arizona,” Jake answered for me. “They were there. Watching Brady. Couple other schools, too. Brady's that good. At least when those assholes pass him the ball. Friday night they wouldn't give it to him. Everyone saw it.”

  My stomach knotted. More opportunities gone.

  Amy looked at me for a moment, then picked up her fork. “Sucks.” Then she looked at Jake. “Would you mind getting me some water? I forgot to get some.”

  Jake looked confused for a second, then shrugged and headed over to the lunch lines.

  “I'm sorry for you,” Amy said, looking at her food. “But it's hard for me to give a shit about basketball.”

  “I'm not asking you to give a shit about it.”

  “But you should just stay away from me,” she said. She swirled her fork through the rice. “You'd be better off. They aren't gonna let it go.”

  I didn't say anything. I wasn't sure what she wanted me to say.

  “Like, sitting here even,” she said. “It's a bad decision.”

  “So do you want me to leave?” I asked. “Is that what you're telling me?”

  “I'm telling you you'd be better off not hanging with the chick who's essentially wearing a modern day scarlet letter,” she said.

  I grabbed the water bottle. “I made my choice.”

  “You can unmake it.”

  “I don't want to,” I said.