Chapter 28

Last week of School

This was my final week of high school, and after the upcoming tournament this weekend I would officially be a high school graduate. The long-running lawsuit with the city, county, and police department had finally been settled, and the anticipated payment was expected by the end of the week—a resolution that brought a sense of relief, and expectations.

I had already taken the plunge into the entrepreneurial world by starting my own companies. I recruited a talented team of engineers and computer experts, each busy at work translating my design briefs—vivid sketches and detailed explanations of my futuristic concepts—into intricate designs and functioning prototypes. I confidently proclaimed to them that we were about to upend the entire electronics industry. With a few patents already secured and more pending, the foundation for a revolutionary change was solidly laid.

My in-house legal team had been carefully assembled as well. A brilliant patent attorney was tasked with researching, drafting, and submitting patent applications, while a savvy corporate lawyer managed the contracts for selling or licensing my innovations. After some negotiation, Mr. Sawyer agreed to join as my head in-house counsel team on terms that I believed were exceptionally favorable both of us.

Interest in my patents had already begun to surface, with several licenses signed. Once the settlement money arrived, combined with royalties from the licensed patents, there would be ample funds to invest in further research and development—ensuring that my team would remain engaged and productive even while I attended college.

Wednesday brought its own moments of calm amid the storm of change. The girls gathered to study for their finals, their anxious whispers and worried glances over their textbooks they were worried about their G.P.A.s and feeling the pressure. I reassured them with a gentle smile, advising them to relax. “You’ll do just fine,” I said, hoping to ease their concerns.

On Thursday, seeking to clear my head and get a little practice, I headed to the football stadium. I spent two solitary hours on the makeshift practice range, methodically hitting balls with my irons in a quest to calm my nerves. Focused intently on the goalposts, I set my sights on the delicate balance between precision and power, aiming consistently with my PW. The shot I wanted was 110 yards. I was lost in the rhythm of my swing, I was suddenly approached by Coach Wilson. “I wish we could kick field goals as easily as you hit that golf ball,” he remarked with a tone of admiration mingled with wistfulness.

“I didn’t see you, Coach. I wish I could’ve played for you this year. I’m sorry about the way things turned out, sir,” I replied, my voice tinged with regret.

“Nonsense,” he responded encouragingly. “You’re an incredibly gifted man, both as an athlete and a scholar. You had to do what’s best for you. The way you’ve bounced back this year, facing and overcoming challenges that most would simply give up on, is nothing short of remarkable. I was just coming out to wish you luck this weekend—I hope you shatter the state tournament record too.”

“Thanks, Coach. It means a lot to me. Just out of curiosity, what’s the state golf tournament record?” I inquired.

“It’s a 63 for the lowest single round and a staggeringly low combined 127 for the two-day event—17 under par. Coach Gears and I had to double-check to be sure,” he answered with a chuckle.

“That’s an ambitious target,” I noted quietly, wondering if I could possibly reach such heights.

Friday marked my final day of high school. At lunch, I noticed something unusual with the girls—they acted distantly and subdued. Usually lively and boisterous, they sat at our regular table in silence, barely nibbling at their food. When I asked what was wrong, they replied curtly, “Nothing, we’re just not that hungry.” even though I knew they would never pass up a chance to steal a few fries or share enthusiastic chatter. Then, a voice boomed over the PA system, calling my name with an urgency that set my heart racing. I was summoned to the office immediately, a clear sign that something out of the ordinary was about to unfold.

Rising from my seat, I headed toward the office accompanied by the girls who insistently followed, despite my attempts to send them away for their safety. They smirked playfully as they insisted, “Nope, we’re invited too.” I couldn’t help but think that something was up. but I kept my thoughts to myself.

Entering the office, I was directed to the large conference room—a space I had frequented many times before. As I pushed the door open, an unexpected chorus of “SURPRISE!” filled the room. There, before me, stood all my teachers, the principal, Mr. and Mrs. James, and my ever-supportive girls, gathered for an impromptu graduation celebration. I was overwhelmed with emotion as tears pricked at my eyes—a rarity for a man like me—but in that moment, I let them flow freely. I had my picture taken with everyone, and the room had a beautiful cake and big tubs of ice cream. The surprise had been orchestrated entirely by Eve and the girls, who knew all too well that I would have simply slipped away with my diploma if left on my own, making this heartfelt celebration even more memorable.

Later, after the joyous festivities, Coach and I set out for Ann Arbor and the University of Michigan, where the State Championship awaited us. We arrived in the mid-afternoon and immediately made our way to the dorms allocated for competitors. Once checked in and armed with my room key, I requested that the Coach accompany me on a course walk-through. We strolled leisurely along the cart path, discussing each hole’s nuances. When we reached hole number 5, I confidently suggested that we might skip it, knowing its layout by heart.