Chapter 10: A Good Idea? Really?

The boys' good spirits and the girls' conversations about sports from a historical perspective, continued on the drive home. The boys were drawn into the girls' conversations. Following the trend of interactions between guys and gals everywhere, the conversation deteriorated. Of course, the guys were simply too juvenile to have a serious conversation, in the girls' view. The girls were too uptight to enjoy life, in the guys' views. However, the boys' good mood provided the tide for raising the mood of the girls. They were all laughing by the time they arrived at the Gordian Ranch.

Their good mood didn't survive the explanation of their plans for the rest of the week to Lian. The Chinese Sorceress's scream of rage rang through the house! It brought Udit, Martha, Seth, and Cory running. Laoshin and Pappy weren't far behind. It took Pappy a moment longer, because he had stopped to grab a shotgun. He had developed the habit of having a shotgun close by, years ago. He hadn't seen a reason to break the habit.

"What's wrong?" Udit yelled, frantically, looking for the threat to Lian as he ran into the room. Nothing would hurt Lian if he was close by.

Lian was standing in the middle of the room, and the six teens were sitting on the couch and love seats. All the teens looked chagrined by Lian's reaction.

"They have been poisoned!" Lian declared angrily, waving her hands to include all the teens.

"What?" Martha yelped, peering intently at the teens, looking for any sign of ill health.

"Who did it?" Seth demanded. "Do you know the antidote?" he followed up.

"What kind of poison?" Cory demanded. "There are some that I've learned to counteract with healing."

"They have been poisoned by their hormones," Lian announced in a thundering voice.

Most people would have been shocked to hear such a powerful voice from such a small woman. To those present, understanding that she was using air to 'enhance' her words reduced the shock. What was more shocking to them was Lian losing control. The frail looking Chinese woman was the picture of decorum and etiquette. She just didn't lose control of herself.

"What?" Martha squawked as she peered at the teens closer.

"Their hormones have addled their minds and they can no longer think," Lian continued, with the same thundering voice. "It has driven them completely insane," she declared.

{Okay. This has gone on long enough, } Sean thought to Megan.

{Do you think she really believes we've gone nuts?} Megan asked in disbelief.

{Oh, yeah, } Sean replied, tinting his thoughts with some anger of his own. {She hasn't even asked for our reasons. That's what makes me angry. Her reaction is unacceptable.}

"Lian," Sean's voice cracked through the room.

Sean's voice wasn't loud, but it did include the command tone that he had learned from Seth. He paused for a moment to let the command settle into Lian's consciousness, as Seth had taught him.

"What have you taught me?" Sean's voice cracked again. "How have you instructed me to handle issues that are not talent related?" he asked.

His tone demanded an answer ... a calm and reasoned answer.

Lian hesitated. Her glare, that had previously included all six teens, focused on Sean. It would have been intimidating, if not for her training of the boy ... the young man, she corrected herself. Lian smothered the ember of pride she felt, so that she could focus on her outrage.

"You have remained hidden for seventeen years!" Lian told him, calmer but still angry. "You are ready to throw all that effort away, after three days in that ... that ... that babysitting facility they call a school!" she sputtered angrily.

Maybe she wasn't all that calm.

"I'm not throwing anything away, Lian!" Sean said sharply. "Half the reason we decided on this path was to prevent losing that anonymity. Yes, it will bring us to the attention of more people. Yes, we will expose that we know some martial arts. What we will not do, is to go beyond the extent of what we know of as normal skills. A lot of kids know martial arts. Most importantly, though, is that it will reduce Megan from 'superhero' status to 'normal girl' status, with some special training. That is important!"

Lian stopped quivering in anger at Sean's words. It took her a moment, but finally she ordered, "Explain yourself."

Sean explained the reasons for planning the demonstration at the Friday pep rally and the after school classes that Lian would be involved in. Megan's description of how she was being treated confirmed Sean's reasoning. It was clear that Megan needed to be taken out of the spotlight. Lian reluctantly agreed that they couldn't allow evil to fester if they had to means to oppose it. She also agreed that their only other options were direct intervention, which would draw even more attention.

"So, you have determined that you have three choices," Lian summarized. "You can do nothing. This leaves Megan exposed, and allows evil to run rampant."

{She's a little more theatrical today than normal, } Megan thought to Sean. Her smile could be felt in her thoughts but her face maintained her somber expression.

{She and Udit rode the horses out to Turkey Creek today, } Sean replied. {Alone. She always gets a little theatrical and dramatic after one of their ... um ... rides.}

His face maintained his somber expression, too, but the grin in his thoughts was a mile wide.

Megan coughed to smother her snort of laughter and hide her smile.

"Or you can take direct action, which exposes everyone even more," Lian continued her summarization, while glaring at Megan for her interruption, "or, you can take indirect action, which will draw more attention, but in a normalized way. It will lessen the attention Megan is receiving now. Is that about right?" Lian demanded.

"You have taught me how to parse and solve problems," Sean replied. His voice was stern, demanding that she listen. "I was faced with a problem. I solved it as you have taught me. If you have a better solution, please tell us."

"It seems to be an acceptable solution," Lian eventually conceded, reluctantly. "Acceptable, but still marginal. We will drive you to school tomorrow," she continued. "Before school, we will speak with your babysitter..."

Lian had to pause at Megan's choking laughter.

"We will speak with your Principal," Lian said, fixing a baleful glare on Megan, "and I will establish some ground rules. After, when you go to class, one of your other babysitters may show me where these classes will be held. Then ... if I am satisfied," she held up one finger to emphasize her point, "and only then, will I agree to this insanity."

Clarence Stanwood was surprised when Sean Flynn asked for a moment of his time, soon after arriving at his office. He agreed, of course, and Sean escorted three other people into his office. He knew Sean and Megan, but the other two were probably the oddest pair to ever grace his office.

One of his guests was a diminutive Chinese lady. She was wearing an odd garment that nearly looked like a sarong at first glance. Closer examination revealed that her garment bore a closer resemblance to trousers or even a loose jump suit. Mr. Stanwood dimly remembered seeing similar dress before, in very old Chinese pictographs. Her bald head was startling. He had never seen a bald woman, except a friend that had undergone chemo therapy. She seemed to be in her mid to late twenties, or possibly mid twenties if she had led a hard life.

The other guest was an older man. He was tall, and obviously a Native American. His clothes were worn, and his boots were scuffed. His face was weathered like old granite, but the eyes peering from that face were intelligent and shrewd. His hair was pulled back in what some would call a pony tail. Mr. Stanwood, having spent many years in the south-west around Native Americans, recognized it as a very old form of a warrior's knot.

"Good morning," Mr. Stanwood greeted his visitors. "What is the occasion of this visit?" he asked.

Sean cleared his throat before answering. "Umm, sir," Sean said, "I'd like to introduce to you one of our teachers, and our mentor."

His tone of voice had a formality to it that was unusual in most of the teens that Mr. Stanwood met. It certainly focused his attention.

"Lian has been one of my teachers since I was five years old," Sean continued. "Lian is from China, and is in this country on a permanent visa. Udit has been my mentor, for even longer."

Mr. Stanwood couldn't help wondering why a five year old needed a teacher. In his mind he subtracted twelve years from the woman's apparent age, and wondered why she would be given such a job at such a young age. His mind skittered around the thought of the mentor. Having a mentor even before he was five, was ... perplexing. How much longer could he have had a mentor. The twists and turns his mind was taking, trying to follow the logic of the conversation, gave him a headache. He forlornly wondered if today was going to be like the last two days. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind, much the same as had been needed for many other thoughts about these two new students.

"It is my pleasure," Mr. Stanwood said in greeting to his guests. He had unconsciously adopted a formal tone, following the lead of his student. "Please, have a seat," he directed, indicating chairs with a gesture. "How can I help you, this morning?"

"You should read these first," Udit said in a deep voice as he handed a folder of papers to the principal.

Mr. Stanwood nodded after intently studying the legal documents. They were power-of-attorney documents that allowed Udit Begay, Lian Chin, and Cory Haney to make decisions and give directions concerning Sean's and Megan's education and activities.

"Who is Cory Haney?" Mr. Stanwood wondered aloud.

"He has been my teacher since I was four years old," Megan answered. "He wasn't needed today, so only Lian and Udit came with us."

"Um, yes. Well. These are most unusual," Mr. Stanwood said, indicating the papers, and struggling to gain some footing and a sense of normalcy in the conversation. "Normally, the kind of authorization in these documents, are restricted to parents or legal guardians."

His statement was clearly a request for clarification. He didn't get one.

"It was necessary," Lian said brusquely.

"May I ask why?" Mr. Stanwood asked, hesitantly.

"No," Lian said flatly. "It is sufficient that their parents trust us with the authority stated in these documents."

"I see. Would you mind if I made copies of these for the school's records?" Mr. Stanwood asked slowly, sitting back in his chair. At their nod of approval, he asked, "So, what can I do for you?"

"Sean has explained what has been planned for Friday, and the self defense classes for the rest of this school year," Lian said sternly. "I would like to hear your understanding of what will happen, and why this course of action is being taken," Lian ordered. It was obviously a command that she expected to be obeyed.

"There was a fight. Miss Cavalla sent two boys to the hospital," Mr. Stanwood began.

"She did not kill them though," Lian interrupted.

"Umm, no, she didn't," Mr. Stanwood agreed.

He couldn't figure out if Lian's statement was to present a point in the girls favor for showing restraint, or disappointment in a student's failing. It sounded like a bit of both.

"Miss Cavalla was not in the wrong," Mr. Stanwood continued after mentally shaking himself. "I hadn't intended this incident to go any further. A school board member, a friend of the father of one of the boys that went to the hospital, didn't think we were following district policy. However, my Assistant Principal, Mr. Casey, agreed with me. The Senior Class Counselor felt that Miss Cavalla had provided a service for the school by getting rid of some bad elements. That is the 'why' of this situation."

"Very well," Lian said. "So, this situation is because you don't have control of the children in your care ... umm, your students."

Mr. Stanwood felt sure the little Oriental woman had been about to use a less flattering term for the student body at his school. He had to restrain himself from lashing out verbally. He was proud of his high school and the progress that had been made since he became Principal.

"That could be how it appears," Mr. Stanwood agreed. His voice was tight with restraint. "I assure you that we have very good control of our students. As good as that control is, however, we cannot stop every questionable action of every student. It just isn't possible."

Lian waved off his defense with a hand as if she were clearing cobwebs out of her way.

She glared at Sean and muttered, "It seems that all students display a lack of judgment at times." She shook herself and asked, "What is your solution to this situation?"

"Actually, I was prepared to drop the whole thing. I have placed the subject on the school board agenda. The board member in question, was wrong, but seemed to have school policy on his side. Mr. Flynn," Mr. Stanwood continued, waving a hand at Sean, "suggested a solution that would satisfy everyone, at least to some degree. Community Service for Miss Cavalla. This would be in the form of conducting classes for students in self-defense, to minimize the effectiveness of the bullies. He also suggested that you may be available as a proctor. I have learned, since yesterday, that having a trained, and responsible party at the classes will be a prerequisite. The demonstration, tomorrow, is simply a way to let students know that classes will be available. Hopefully, it will generate some interest."

Lian nodded noncommittally, and seemed to be brooding about something. She was, in fact, mentally wrestling with the idea of publicly demonstrating skills that she had kept hidden for nearly two hundred years. The skills that she would be teaching had been passed down, from teacher to student, for over three thousand years. The thought of allowing even a small subset of these skills to be taught was unnerving. That emotion was foreign to her and she was struggling to deal with it.

"I need to ask," Mr. Stanwood said, hesitating for a moment, and eying Lian warily before continuing. "Will you be available to proctor the self-defense classes? If you can't then we need to drop the idea of these classes. We won't need the demonstration."

Lian hesitated, gave Sean and Megan an angry glare, and turned to Udit.

"What is your counsel?" Lian asked.

Udit looked troubled, but he didn't look angry, as Lian had.

"Often, a truly good choice is not available," Udit said slowly, focusing his attention on Lian. "I believe this is one of those times. We must seek the least damaging and least dangerous path. Sean and Megan are more aware of the dynamics within the school than we are. I trust their judgment. However, the decision must be yours, and I support your decision completely."

Mr. Stanwood was startled at the look that passed between the old Indian and the pretty Chinese woman. That look contained more than respect and appreciation. Much, much more.

Lian frowned in concentration for another moment. She weighed options, and possible results of selecting each option. Then, she realized that Sean would have followed the same decision process, with more information available. Her tension evaporated as her decision was reached. She glanced at the Principal and saw all the emotions and questions in his expression and posture as if she were reading a book. She cringed, internally, because she had caused a bad situation to worsen due to her lack of trust in her student.

"Mr. Stanwood," Lian began. "I must explain my concern to you. The skills that I have taught Sean and Megan, are traditional skills that can be directly traced back for over three thousand years. Each, umm ... each Master in my discipline, trains a handful of students, intensely. Seldom are there more than three or four. One of those students will excel, and train their own handful of students. I have trained seven students. Three are primary students. One is my assistant, and the other two are Sean and Megan. One of these two children will be my successor. The other four have been trained, to a lesser degree, and will assist these two. They are also students in your facility. The idea of teaching these skills to a school full of students is ... ah ... unsettling, in the extreme. Sean has explained that we will only be teaching a small subset of the defensive skills to prevent bullies from attacking your students. I will agree with that."

"Thank you, Miss Chin," Mr. Stanwood replied, bowing his head to her. He didn't know why he responded like that. It just seemed like the right response.

Lian bowed her head in acknowledgment, and continued, "However, we must change the demonstration that is planned for tomorrow."

"Okay. In what way?" Mr. Stanwood asked curiously.

"I cannot allow my students to be attacked by your students," Lian said sternly.

Mr. Stanwood briefly wondered about the wisdom of pointing out that technically, they were all his students. Only very briefly before dismissing the idea.

"Megan may demonstrate some defensive drills. Sean, AJ, Scott, Lilly, and Bell will participate in that portion of the demonstration," Lian said, wondering what the brief expression meant that had flashed across his face. "Then we will have a full contact demonstration between Sean and Megan, and then between Sean and myself."

"Are you sure that's a good idea, Lian?" Sean asked, suddenly concerned. He was startled by her sudden reversal, and then going so far with the reversal.

"Yes," Lian answered with a curt nod of her head. "The other students must understand the folly of attacking you, ever again."

"But people will always find a way to attack what they don't understand," Sean protested.

"Our demonstration will be very understandable," Lian promised. "Perhaps we can even include a demonstration with sticks," she concluded with a little smile.

Mr. Stanwood had been following the conversation, much like a spectator following a tennis match. He used the pause in the conversation to ask, "Ma'am, do you have any credentials to verify your standing in the martial arts?" At Lian's blank look he tried to explain. "Ah, you know, like a black belt certification or anything like that?"

"We do not have colored belts to measure our skill," Lian stated haughtily. "We survive. That is the measure of our skill."

"Well, then ... umm ... would you mind if I asked a professional to attend the demonstration, tomorrow?" Mr. Stanwood asked. "I know a man who runs a karate studio in town. Maybe you could even spar with him?" Mr. Stanwood suggested questioningly.

"Why?" Lian asked, after considering the Principal for a moment.

Mr. Stanwood sighed and said, "District policy requires documentation to prove that a qualified adult is present for any activity. Without written documentation from you, I need to find another way to satisfy the district's requirement. I think I can satisfy their requirements by using another known certified professional."

Lian nodded thoughtfully. She understood needing to meet requirements. The fact that this man was attempting to meet his requirements, and still satisfy his students needs, she thought was most honorable. She smiled.

"Invite your certified expert. Instead of Sean and Megan sparing, Megan will spar with your expert," Lian said with a smile.

"Thank you," Mr. Stanwood said, returning her smile.

"Now, may I see the area that will be used to provide this demonstration?" Lian asked.

Mr. Stanwood's smile broadened and said, "I think Mr. Casey would love to show you the gym." He couldn't wait to talk to his friend and subordinate, after his little show and tell.

Classes for the rest of the day were predictable. Sean and Megan asked questions. The teachers attempted to answer their questions, without confusing the rest of the class.

Mr. Mallory, the Physics teacher, entered the classroom shortly before the end of the Geology class. He walked to the front of the classroom and quietly whispered something to Mr. Rosella. Mr. Rosella nodded his agreement to whatever the other teacher had said, and Mr. Mallory walked to the back of the room and sat down. Moments later, the door opened again and Miss Reynolds entered the classroom. She said something to Mr. Mallory. He nodded and she sat beside him. A few minutes later the bell rang.

"Miss Cavalla, Mister Flynn, please stay for a moment," Mr. Rosella instructed.

The other students looked at them curiously as they filed out of class. Sean surreptitiously signed to AJ and Scott that he would meet them in the locker room. His friends nodded in understanding.

Mr. Rosella was astonished when he saw Sean signing. It wasn't the standard American Sign which was normally used by the hearing impaired. He had learned to sign as a boy so he could communicate with a cousin who was hearing impaired. The greater surprise was the nod of understanding from the other two boys.

Mr. Mallory, and Miss Reynolds, stepped to the front of the classroom. Mr. Mallory sat on the corner of Mr. Rosella's desk. Miss Reynolds sat in a student desk.

Mr. Rosella cleared his throat and said, "Before we get to what we asked you stay for, I have a question."

Sean and Megan exchanged glances before Sean said, "Sure."

"You just signed something to two other boys after I asked you to stay," Mr. Rosella said. "I am very familiar with American Sign but I didn't recognize what you said. Would you mind telling me what you told them?"

Sean smiled slightly and said, "We use a combination of American Sign, Native American trade sign, and a few military modifications we learned from my Poppa. He was in the Marines and used sign when they had to be quiet in combat. I asked them to go ahead and change in the locker room. Otherwise, they would have waited in the hall."

Mr. Rosella nodded thoughtfully before saying, "Thank you." He paused, gathering his thoughts, before continuing with, "We asked the two of you to stay because we have a problem. We think the two of you can be part of the solution."

Sean and Megan exchanged looks, again. Megan looked back at the teacher and said, "We'll help in any way that we can, sir."

"Both of you are obviously very smart and very good students," Mr. Mallory said, taking over for Mr. Rosella. "We want to be good teachers for all our students. The problem that we have, is that when we try to answer your questions, it is very difficult to not lose the rest of the class. Your questions are nearly on topic, but are just enough off topic to possibly mislead other students."

"Okay," Sean said thoughtfully. "Are you asking us not to ask the questions we have?" he asked for clarification.

"Not at all," Mr. Rosella said, shocked that someone would ask a student not to ask questions. Every good teacher dreamed of having students that would ask questions.

"Your questions might be confusing to some, but they're challenging to us. We don't want to stop your questions," Mr. Mallory agreed.

Megan's eyebrows rose at the obvious shock of the teachers at the suggestion. There was a reason that the two of them were teaching an honors course. They were very good teachers.

"Well, I think we understand the problem, but I'm not sure what you would like us to do that would help," Sean said curiously.

Miss Reynolds answered the question.

"I think we all know that you two really don't need the information which is taught in these two classes," Miss Reynolds said drily. "With your test scores and what I've seen of you this week, both of you could probably meet the course requirements for the year in a few weeks. We would like to know what you hope to gain from the courses?"

Megan looked at Sean and silently asked, {How much do you think we should tell them?}

Sean thought, {Why not tell them the truth? They'll just think we're a couple of smart kids.}

Megan nodded, thinking, {Okay. You tell them. You can lay things out logically better than I can.}

Sean started to say something but Miss Reynolds interrupted him.

"Why do I always feel like you two have complete conversations when you do that," Miss Reynolds said.

"Do what?" Sean asked, the picture of innocence.

Miss Reynolds waved the question off, shaking her head, and said, "Never mind. What do you hope to gain from the courses?" she asked again.

Sean nodded his agreement to let the subject of mental conversations pass, and answered her question.

"We don't agree with everything in the text books," Sean said.

He waited for an explosion from the teachers, but none came. Mr. Mallory looked at his fellow teachers and they shrugged at each other.

"Well, okay," Mr. Mallory said. "I've disagreed with portions of text books before. I don't think there is a teacher worth his salt that hasn't disagreed with something in their texts books."

"Really?" Sean asked, feeling a little excited at the revelation.

"Yes, really," Mr. Rosella said chuckling.

"What did you do about the things you didn't agree with?" Sean asked eagerly.

"Nothing, really," Mr. Mallory answered, astonished that anyone would consider doing something about something in a text book that they didn't agree with. Obvious misprints in text books were reported, but disagreements with the substance of the text books were simply passed over.

"Oh," Sean said, feeling slightly disappointed. "Well, we want to do something about it. I'm not talking about directly challenging the information in the books or the teachers in classroom. That would be rude. We are assuming the information in our text books is commonly accepted by the scientific community. Is that correct?"

"Yes, for the most part," Mr. Mallory agreed hesitantly.

"We understand the material, and we understand where we don't agree," Sean explained. "What we don't understand are the tools the scientific community used to determine the information in the books. We want to understand the tools, so we can either verify or disprove the information."

"Wow," Miss Reynolds said softly into the silence that followed Sean's explanation.

"Ah, would you care to enlighten us about what areas that you disagree with?" Mr. Rosella asked after a moment of silence.

Sean and Megan exchanged looks again. Megan nodded and Sean turned back to the teachers.

"The physics book is incorrect about the nature of energy," Sean said levelly. "There is also a problem with the Geophysics section of the book in Mr. Rosella's class."

"Really?" Mr. Rosella asked in surprise. "What is the problem with that section?"

"The part about gravity is wrong," Megan said.

"Um, how have you come to these conclusions?" Mr. Mallory asked curiously.

Sean and Megan exchanged looks again before turning back to the teachers.

"We don't know how to explain it or prove it," Sean said patiently. "We don't expect anyone to believe us, or accept what we think, at face value. But if we understand the tools used, we could explain why we don't agree. We could be completely wrong. I don't think so, but we need to either prove or disprove the things we question, at least for ourselves."

Mr. Rosella nodded thoughtfully. He looked at Mr. Mallory and received a nod. Both of them looked at Miss Reynolds and she shrugged.

"How old do we need to be before we learn mental telepathy like grownups use?" Megan complained, surprising Sean with his girlfriends misdirection from their own telepathy.

Miss Reynolds smiled and said, "You need to be old and decrepit to gain that ability. Anyone working in schools, especially high schools, reach that point much quicker than other people."

The teachers smiled and nodded in agreement.

Mr. Rosella said, "Why don't you two go on to class. We'll talk about this and see what we can figure out."

"Thank you, sir," Sean said.

"Thanks, Mr. Rosella," Megan said as she stood and gathered her books.

The two teens closed the door behind them as they left. They started to walk away but Sean put his hand on Megan's arm to stop her.

{Just a minute, } Sean said silently. {I want to hear what they say, } he explained.

Sean extended tendrils of air through the cracks under and around the door. They fanned out, and were impacted by the sound waves of the conversations in the room.

In the classroom, Mr. Rosella watched the door close thoughtfully. His forehead was wrinkled in furious thought.

"What are you thinking, Rafael?" Mr. Mallory asked curiously, as he watched the different expressions flicker across the old teachers dark face.

"Oh, just some old stories my grandmother used to tell me," Mr. Rosella said absently.

"What kind of old stories?" Mr. Mallory pressed.

"Just some old stories that my grandma's grandma told her about some really smart people," Mr. Rosella replied as he shook himself and focused on the current problem.

"What do you want to do about Sean and Megan?" Miss Reynolds asked.

"What do you think we should do, Miss Reynolds?" Mr. Rosella asked curiously.

"I want to find a way to help them," the counselor said emphatically. "Any child that is trying to learn should be enabled in every way possible."

Mr. Rosella chuckled. In his opinion, Miss Reynolds wasn't much more than a child herself. Still, her heart was in the right place and she was pleasant to work with.

"I agree with you, Miss Reynolds," Mr. Rosella said with a smile. He looked at Mr. Mallory and asked, "Do you have any ideas?"

"We could list some extra credit reports that require the tools in the separate disciplines to complete," Mr. Mallory said thoughtfully.

"That's a good idea," Mr. Rosella said, nodding his head. "That way we aren't giving special consideration. It's available for everyone in the class, too."

"Some of the extra credit projects could even be about the tools," Miss Reynolds said, the building excitement obvious in her voice.

Sean released the tendrils of air with a smile and said, "Let's go. Everything is going to be okay with them."

Football practice wasn't as easy. The spirit of the team was still up. They were still excited and eager to show what they could do. New playbooks the day before their first game frightened some of them.

"How can we memorize all this new stuff in one day?" one of the boys, the right tackle, complained.

"It isn't new stuff," Sean insisted in frustration. "It's the same plays that you had in the old playbook. They are just arranged in a different order."

"Boys," Coach Strom's deep voiced silenced the complaints. "Use the old playbook for the game, tomorrow. I expect you to compare the old playbook to the new playbook over the weekend. You should be ready to use the new book on Monday."

That effectively ended the complaints about the playbooks. It didn't calm Sean's nerves during the practice. Lian was in the bleachers, watching.

AJ was placed in the quarterback position. Scott was in the halfback, or fullback position, depending on the play. The problems were with the front lines on both offense and defense.

"You said that you could improve the performance of the line," Coach Strom growled as he watched the chaos on the field while another play was run. "Time to put up or shut up. Offensive and defensive lines are both FUBAR. Which one do you want to tackle first?"

Sean looked at the coach curiously and asked, "What does FUBAR mean?"

Coach Strom looked at Sean as if he were a strange bug that just crawled out from under a rock. Finally, he said, "Umm, FUBAR means 'messed up beyond all recognition'."

Sean recognized that the word must be an acronym, but the description didn't fit. He mentally wrestled with it for a moment before shaking his head.

"I don't get it," Sean said. "I know it's an acronym, but the words don't fit."

"Well ... ahh ... another ... ahh ... another word is usually used for the first letter," the coach explained uncomfortably.

"Oh," Sean said as he suddenly understood.

Sean looked back at the field as the team ran another scrimmage, poorly. He nodded and decisively said, "FUBAR. That's a good word. I like it." He looked back at the coach and said, "'The best defense is a good offense' is the saying that applies here. I'll work with the offensive line."

"Fine. I'll work with the defensive line. We'll run scrimmages again the last half hour of practice to see if they have learned anything," the coach said, before blowing his whistle and pumping his arm to call the team to him.

A short while later, Sean was facing the towering linemen with his fists on his hips. "Do you want to stop guys on the defense from coming through your line?" he asked.

"Yes!" with an expletive added, either before or after, was the response he received from most of the line.

"Does everyone know what FUBAR means?" Sean asked curiously.

There were several nods and a few "Sure," for answers.

"Well, I had to ask the coach what it meant when he said your line was FUBAR," Sean said with a chagrined grimace.

There was general laughter from the line and some of the tension seemed to flow out of the guys. Of course, Sean helped by sending a wave of ease to the linemen.

"I don't think you are FUBAR, and I think I know what we can do to change the coach's mind," Sean said. "Do you want to try?"

"Hell, yeah!" and similar comments answered the question.

The next hour was spent on two primary points. The first point was balance when getting into position and balance when coming off the line when the ball was hiked. Sean demonstrated the difference between a balanced stance, that fit the individual, and the 'one size fits all' stance they had been taught. Being balanced worked much better than the correct protocol.

The second point addressed was questions that should asked of themselves, as they stepped up to the line. They knew which direction their teammates would be running. Therefore, they knew which direction they had to protect. Using a balanced stance, Sean demonstrated how they could use the answers to those questions to flex with the attack of the defense. They didn't need to stop the defense cold. All they had to do was bend the defense in the desired direction.

"Blocking like that eliminates the size advantage of the other team," Sean explained.

The scrimmage at the end of practice was much different than the plays they ran at the beginning of the practice. The coach was pleased with the progress.