Chapter 1: How I Found Myself Sitting in a Gym

I sat on the bottom seat in the bleachers and watched the athletic hall crew pull the basketball hoops down and start to roll out tables for the opening ceremony. They were hurrying to get the place ready as the schedule had teams arriving around noon, and the big banquet was starting at one. I was sitting out of the way, waiting for things to settle down and trying to avoid the workers as much as possible.

One of the crew foremen had even walked up to me and asked me to leave the hall, but after I explained that Principal Peters would fire me should I leave the hall before the end of the opening ceremonies, the man nodded and walked away. After that, the crews merely requested that I sit on the one set of bleachers they had extended during the test setup of the basketball hoops the night before.

I pulled out the brochure again and reviewed it although I already knew it by heart. Robin Charles, my still married, but openly separated wife was the girl’s basketball coach at the school officially hosting the event and she had sent me more than twenty brochures, announcing the fact that her school was the host and sponsor for the first ever August High School Basketball Camp. It was billed as a weeklong camp and tournament for schools and teams from all over the world. I think I had heard that twenty boy’s and twenty-eight girl’s teams were expected to attend.

The fact that so many teams signed up to attend the camp shocked me more than a little. Since the Average Joes special, it had been hard to get parents to agree to allow their children to travel long distances, but what little I had heard from people officially involved there had been a waiting list of teams, in case one decided to back out after a pickup depleted their squad. Now, the first day was due to start and I found myself asked to watch the crew set up.

If I have not made it clear, I am not officially involved in any way. I am a social studies teacher back at Freedom High, and have little contact with the sports teams. Unfortunately, my wife clearly wants to rub my nose in her CAP retest score again.

Oh, perhaps I should back up a bit more. My name is Jason Charles. I work at Freedom High as a social studies teacher and advisor to some of the more cerebral clubs like the chess club. I have been doing it for seventeen years now, and I enjoy the work. People say I am nothing special to look at. Average in height, with a little extra weight around the middle and light brown hair with a touch of grey hair, all leave one unremarkable, and since I try to dress sensibly the students barely remember me. They are too busy jockeying for concubine positions with those known to have six point five CAP scores, or using their higher CAP scores to test drive as many partners as possible. To be honest, teaching has been more than a bit depressing since the Average Joes special where they introduced the opportunity to be picked up. Too few students are still worried about learning and the classrooms have the feel of a pickup bar at closing time on a Friday night most days.

That show also impacted my home life. When the first episodes showing off CAP scores and showing that a high score person could be a good catch were aired, Robin Charles insisted on going in to be tested. Her score of five point four was not outstanding, but she was thrilled to have a score higher than the ones most of her friends who worked in the secretarial pool at city hall managed and loved to bring it up in conversation with anyone she knew had a lower score.

A month later, I succumbed to her constant entreaties to test and went to the testing site. The testing itself was interesting, but it was the conversation when I arrived home that was eye opening.

“So? Tell me you at least scored better than a five point zero,” my wife said scornfully when I entered. “Everyone knows you couldn’t have scored better than me.”

“Honey,” I said slowly. “I assure you that I did better than that, in fact I...”

“Good!” my wife interrupted me. “At least I can tell the girls that my husband isn’t a total loser. Why you aren’t at least a principal by now only proves that you aren’t as good as me.”

“Robin. I don’t want to be stuck as a principal. I enjoy teaching. And I’ll have you know that...” I started to say.

“Save it Jason,” she interrupted again. “I’ve heard all your excuses before. We both know you just aren’t good enough to be a principal. Now I am supposed to meet Ann for tennis and I can brag that my husband is at least better than average, so that’s enough. I take enough teasing from the ladies at City Hall because you’re just a lowly teacher, but none of them have husbands who have managed even a four five. At least you managed that. Now why don’t you run along and finish painting the guest room? My parents are still planning on visiting for your birthday.”

I ended up standing there shaking my head as Robin dashed out the door. As I heard her car start up, I realized that she had been completely uninterested in my CAP score and finally slid my card into my wallet for safekeeping. She was convinced that her score was better than mine and did not want to hear the official score.

After that, I kept quiet about my score and concentrated on teaching. Once the special came out with the revelation that anyone with a score of six point five could volunteer, I even started actively avoiding locations where a pickup was likely. It was a simple thought for me. I knew that Robin was participating in a class that was supposed to help raise her CAP so my tactic was to wait for her to gain the CAP to volunteer.

Our marriage did start to suffer though. Robin started putting all her efforts into raising her CAP and between that and her own teaching I rarely saw her. She even took to sleeping in a separate room, claiming that the isolation was removing some of her dependence on others. It was a long and rather stressful year after the broadcast of the Average Joes special detailing pickups. I wanted to concentrate on teaching the students still willing to be taught, but my wife was concentrating all her energy into raising her CAP score.

Her efforts were rewarded. On her first birthday after the special, a mere ten weeks after the announcement that a six point five CAP was the minimum to volunteer, she retested and obtained a six point seven score. It should have been a happy day in our household, but instead Robin came home and started bragging about how she was so much better than others and me now that she had a score high enough to be picked up. Her attitude was unbelievably elitist and she demanded that I quietly allow her to stop working and concentrate on continuing her improvement plan. I refused and was shocked when she told me that until I knelt at her feet in submission, she would make my life hell.

The first year after that announcement, Robin worked on obtaining a transfer to a new school. Previously we had spent twelve years teaching together at Freedom High, often having special classes that lasted two periods where we joined forces to combine English and History classes. We had received more than one award for having high achieving students and I had always thought she loved working together. After receiving her new CAP score in late May, she suddenly announced that she would be transferring to Monte Vista High for the next school year.

Actually, she could have argued that she transferred to be closer to home as we lived within two miles of Monte Vista, while I continued to drive twenty miles to Freedom High every school day. Robin never mentioned the commute. Instead, in the few moments I did run into her she kept up about how I needed to bow down and accept her supremacy based on her CAP score.

I took to ignoring her tantrums. Unfortunately, my stubborn refusal to offer her the worship she demanded had caused our relationship to break down. After that first year at Monte Vista she spent the summer attending several camps on basketball coaching and even more time and money visiting with college coaches. When the school year started, she bragged to me that she was going to be coaching the Monte Vista girls’ team and that she would have even less time to spend with me.

Arguing with her by this time was like dialing a series of wrong numbers and my reaction was merely to shrug and return to the lesson plans I was working on. During the previous year, I had discovered that many of my lesson plans were drastically outdated and in response I had spent my summer attending some workshops on keeping student interest when the goal of most students was being selected in the next pickup at the mall or café. Attendance had lurched around wildly throughout the year depending on the current rumors surrounding pickups. For a while, it was rare for more than five students to appear for any class, but rumors started circulating saying that some pickups were occurring in schools. Once the students heard that, there were days when no student was absent no matter how sick they were.