Chapter 67: A Funny Thing Happened...

Monday morning.

Tim could feel something in the air was ‘off’ as soon as he walked into the locker room. It was deathly quiet. Tim expected the spirits of his fellow football players to be high after the last weekend of Roosevelt football success. The JV and Freshman teams easily won their games against MacArthur, and the elation of the varsity win was still riding high if the number of requests for interviews in his email were to serve as a barometer. Tim quickly learned, though, that the weekend’s other big happening was supplanting their success on the field.

Johnnie Boynes caught Tim as he walked into the locker room. The rest of the players weren’t quiet. They were all distracted and quietly questioning each other to discover the latest rumor details.

“What the fuck is going on, man? It’s like everybody is walkin’ on eggshells,” Tim asked his normally talkative friend.

“I guess you haven’t heard then,” Johnnie answered quietly.

“Heard what?”

“Apparently, the question of who shot up the party on Friday night might be solved,” Johnnie replied. Tim just continued staring at him and waited for a response.

Johnnie looked around and saw a couple of other players trying not to look right at the two. He gathered up his friend, who was in the process of undressing for practice and was just able to shake off his other shoe before being dragged back outside. “People are saying they saw Tommy and his boys hauling ass away from the party, and Tommy himself was leaning out of the car and shooting at the house.”

Tim stood slack-jawed at his friend for a moment before gathering his thoughts. “I didn’t see Tommy or any of his boys at the party, did you?”

“Naw, but I did hear a couple of others say they saw Tommy and his boys creepin’ on some girls from other schools. I didn’t see them, but then again, I was creepin’ on the same girls,” Johnnie joked.

“Who were they shooting at if it was them?”

“Don’t know, but if I was you, I’d keep clear of the lot of them. You already on their list. Best to stay away from them all,” Johnnie advised.

“Yeah, you’re right. I will, but I think the only time I’m anywhere near any of ‘em is at lunch. I mean, that’s the only place I’ve ever dealt with any of them, and that was back when Tommy blasted me in the back with a chair.”

Johnnie grinned, remembering the event. “Oh man, the look on Tommy’s face when the chair shattered and you just stood up,” he said while snickering. His full laughter started in earnest soon after.

“And the look of you in that shirt covered in ketchup and mayonnaise squirting out of the hamburger you squashed oozing out between your fingers!” Johnnie was now having trouble looking at Tim straight, and Tim was also giggling at remembering the absurdity of it all.

Tim calmed down and remembered his further dealings with the Darq Squad. Tim also remembered Johnnie didn’t know anything about what happened next. Tim took a breath and decided to tell Johnnie about the confrontation in the bathroom.

“Shit. I guess you really need to stay away from their captains. I’ll tell some of the guys you might need some backup in between classes and at lunch,” Johnnie announced to his friend. “We got to tell Frank and Jeff at least.”

“Fuck. You gonna hold my hands while we cross the street, too? Dude, I ain’t gonna go looking for any kind of trouble, but I also ain’t gonna live in fear of some fuckin’ wannabe gangsters,” Tim said with authority.

Johnnie returned Tim’s stare from a little earlier before responding. “All right, I see what you mean. Ain’t no wannabe with these motherfuckas, but you are gonna get to the cafeteria A-S-friggin’-A-P! That way, you can get a seat where your back is not left open for an accidental drive bydriveby chair-flogging,” Johnnie half-joked, and Tim quickly nodded his agreement. “You beat up four members of the Darq Squad, including Tommy, in the restroom over a few bucks,” he asked excitedly, “and you’re still alive?” Johnnie’s disbelief showed across his face. “How much?”

“It was like under a hundred or so,” Tim explained but got a hold of himself again, “and they started it by pulling me into the restroom. I didn’t even need to take a piss or anything!”

Johnnie stood in front of his friend with his mouth open, and his confusion was apparent. “Okay, so you beat up Tommy ... same Tommy who hit you with a chair in the cafeteria,” Johnnie tried to clarify for himself.

Tim nodded. “Later that day.”

“Later that day,” Johnnie parroted, but soon, the right synapse fired and hit its mark. “You mean after you and me came back here to get a new shirt? I went off to my next class, and you went off and did a John Wick,” he questioned.

“Wait a sec. I didn’t kill anybody. I’m pretty sure.” Tim paused for a moment to recollect. “Naw, I didn’t John Wick anyone.”

Johnnie just shook his head in disbelief.

Tim started looking all around Johnnie and desperately trying not to make direct eye contact.

“What is it? I can tell you wanna tell me something, but don’t want to tell me something,” Johnnie asserted.

“Well, they poured paint all over my family’s SUV after the game that week. I went with Frank and Jeff to A-Train to see if there was some reason why Tommy or maybe the Darq Squad was targeting me for like revenge or something.”

Johnnie was near shock with disbelief. “Damn, Mayhem! I can’t leave you out of my sight for a minute,” Johnnie exclaimed. He put his hands over his face and continued questioning Tim like that. “I remember hearing something about an SUV being doused in paint out on Walzem after the Lee game, but damn, I didn’t think it was your family!” Johnnie pulled his head out of his hands and took a breath before continuing, “What happened next?”

“Frank and Jeff took me, before practice, to see A-Train and see if there was some kind of revenge thing going on, but it turns out it was dumb fucking luck. A-Train ordered Tommy to stay away from me, and he had no problems with the order, but unfortunately, they randomly picked my family to do some kind of gang initiation thing.”

“Now we, for sure, gotta tell Frank and Jeff,” Johnnie explained as they both cleared the small staircase in single leaps.

Separately, Johnnie found Frank using one of the urinals, and Tim found Jeff at his locker, right next to Tim’s. They got both the seniors to meet with them outside of the locker room.

Once all four were outside and far away from any listeners, Johnnie began after Tim gestured to him, “Well, first of all, did you all hear about Friday night?” Johnnie asked. “I know you did, Frank, since we were together, but I don’t remember seeing you there, Jeff.”

“Well, I heard about the big party getting all shot up by a bunch of cartel shooters or something, but I didn’t know you guys were there,” Jeff mentioned, getting a little excited for the safety of his friends and teammates, but Frank was able to get Jeff calmed down a bit.

“Aw, man, they weren’t no cartel gunman or nothing like that. Some dumb motherfucker shot off a couple of shots in the direction of the party but didn’t nobody get hit or nothing” Frank smiled with his comment, remembering, “but it did end the party pretty damn quickly, didn’t it?” he joked and playfully shoved Tim on the shoulder.

“Well, rumor has it that it was Tommy and a bunch of the Darq Squad who did it. People are saying he did it because of y’all getting featured on ESPN and the party basically shutting down to honor you guys,” Johnnie disclosed.

Jeff nodded in understanding. “And you think it might have something to do with Tim’s relationship with Tommy thus far this year.” Johnnie nodded.

Frank soon followed after hearing the reason for the out-of-the-way meeting,

“Well, I thought we set that shit aside when we went to talk to A-Train. Last I heard, A-Train left it in no uncertain terms for Tommy to stay as far as fuckin’ away from Tim as he possibly could,” Frank responded. “I personally considered that shit squashed.”

“I dunno, Frank. Jealousy can fuck with your head. We think shit is squashed, as you put it, but Tommy might not think shit is squashed,” Jeff pointed out to his fellow senior.

“Okay, I see your point, but what can we do about it? Do you think we need to have some protection around Mayhem here 24-7-365 or something?” Frank asked but continued, “Well, if Tommy wanted to continue beefing with our boy here, won’t he have to go through A-Train to do something? I mean, the boss has made his feelings known pretty well to everyone.”

The other three football players acknowledged Frank’s point. Soon enough, their attention was grabbed by the first few players slowly making their way out to the football fields for practice. Without saying a word, the four quickly pushed through a few other players and back into the locker room to finish dressing. Until a consensus could be reached, the matter was postponed.

The short jog out to the practice fields was just long enough to get the blood flowing in preparation for some football. However, today’s jog out was interesting. There was police partition tape blocking the usual jogging path between temporary classrooms, centered between the back of the cafeteria and the practice fields. A police officer watched the partition line and kept the players from going the usual way to the practice.

“Outta the way! Outta the way! Make a path!” Coach O’Shaughnessy’s booming voice made its way through the group of confused football players, guessing what was going on. The coach whispered to the police officer and promptly turned to the gathering team. “Okay, ladies, nothing here for you to see, so go around the building and get yourselves into place for warm-ups. We’ll tell you about all this later.” He repeated himself and edged players toward the practice fields.

After the warm-ups and before the morning practice started, Coach Fontana called everyone to take a knee around him. “Okay, boys, helmets off for a sec.” Coach waited a few moments for all eyes to turn to him as he stood in the center of the circle of players. “Well, you all have seen the police sectioned off an area in the back of the school here because, apparently, there was some sort of fight or something over the weekend, and the police are investigating what happened. It’s got nothing to do with us, and I know y’all are naturally interested in what is going on but don’t worry about it. We’ll be keeping y’all away from there for the day, and I’m telling you guys right now,” Coach Fontana explained, then took a few seconds to look many players in the eyes before continuing, “stay away from there.”

He took another moment to look at their eyes again. “I know you guys have questions. Hell, so do I, but I’m betting none of you have anything to do with that, and you’ll want to keep it that way. So, again, stay away from all that, okay?” he demanded.

The coach was a little surprised when the team gave him an answer rather than a bunch of head nods. “Yes, sir!” Coach Fontana took it as a positive. When he dismissed the team to get a shower before classes, he watched as the team took their cues from the captains. They herded everyone far from the ‘scene of the crime’ tape and snaked their way through the portable buildings. They also tried, mainly unsuccessfully, to keep their noise to a minimum.

Coach Fontana told the other coaches to go ahead and keep an eye on the team while he found out about the investigation.

“Hey, officer, could I have a word with a detective in charge or someone who could give me an update on what’s going on?” Coach Fontana asked the solitary officer patrolling the edge of the cordoned-off area.

“No problem, Coach. I’ve been out of high school damn near ten years now, but I still feel like I need to do whatever you say.”

Coach Fontana leaned back for a moment. “Travis Jenner?” The officer smiled and pointed to the name tag on his chest. It read ‘Jenner.’ “Good on you, son. You were a good player.”

Officer Jenner smiled and used his radio to request a detective to come over toward the practice field. “Well, that’s a big ol’ lie, right there!” Both men laughed and shook hands while waiting for a detective. “I was slow, but at least I couldn’t lift too much.”

“Well, looks like you got past that little problem, huh?”

“Yeah, I just didn’t stop working out when I graduated. I got my B.A. in Criminal Justice from Sam Houston State and worked in Houston Police for a few years before deciding to come home. Found myself a wife just pretty enough for me and started a family.”

“That is great, son! Just great!”

“And just what is so great over here,” snorted a gruff, right-out-of-central-casting police detective as he shuffled his way toward the two men catching up with each other.

“Oh, nothing, detective. I was just catching up with my old high school football coach. Coach Fontana, this is Detective Pierson,” Officer Jenner said in the way of introduction.

“Coach, pleasure to meet you.”

“Same here, Detective.”

“Now, what can I do for you? I thought you guys were done with practice until this afternoon, right?” Detective Pierson checked.

“Oh, yes, sir. We’re done until after school. We can do our work over here on the practice fields and stay outta y’all’s way. You might have more trouble trying to keep kids outta your hair by lunchtime, though.”

Detective Pierson pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and quickly wiped the beading sweat off his forehead. “Yeah, you’re probably right, but we have a few more hours to work until I clear the crime scene.”

“What’s going on, anyway ... if you can answer, that is?”

“Oh, no problem there, coach,” Detective Pierson said before taking a step back and looking the coach up and down. “I don’t think you had anything to do with this anyway,” he then started an overly-intense cackle that provoked the other two men to follow with their laughs.

The laughter quickly died down, and the detective started, “Well, sometime over the weekend, there was either a big-time fight with several people bleeding profusely, or someone was killed and left to bleed out right out in front of one of the auto mechanics buildings. The janitor reported a large amount of blood. We got here about an hour before practice, so we’ve been looking for clues and evidence. There is no body but also no massive influx of injuries to hospitals or private clinics that we can find.”

“Detective Pierson, I think we found something,” could be heard over the officer’s radio.

The detective pulled out his radio from his blazer pocket. “This is Pierson. Whatta ya got?”

“Sir, we found a body hidden underneath a bunch of trash in one of the large bins out back of the cafeteria. And, sir,” the voice over the radio paused, “it looks like Victor Anthony ... A-Train.”

All three men looked at each other and were each visibly shook. “That is not a good thing,” Coach Fontana cautioned. “There will be consequences and repercussions for this.”

“That almost sounds like a promise there, Coach,” Detective Pierson considered.

“No, not a promise,” Coach Fontana ventured, “a promissory note.” The coach was looking into the distance, vaguely toward the school when he answered the detective’s question.

When he glanced back toward the higher-ranking police officer, he saw mostly confusion. “I don’t know how much you know about ‘A-Train’ and the Darq Squad, but that young man had a solid hold on everything illegal happening at this school, and more than likely, every school in the San Antonio area.” Officer Jenner simply nodded in agreement with the man he still respected. The former Rough Rider was surprised with the depth of that respect he still had for his former coach after having a chance to talk to him again.

“I’m guessing there will probably be some kind of show of respect to the new leader sometime today. The gang will first have to recognize the new leader, and then that leader will have to earn the respect of the school to squash any others from trying for the leadership,” Coach Fontana added. “Yep, you can expect some kind of show of leadership to signal to any other wannabe gangsters to not step out of place.”

“Good call, Coach,” Detective Pierson exclaimed. “Answer me this, Coach. Have you been inside the school before this morning, or have you generally stuck in the football locker and offices?”

“In my office with the other coaches since just after seven this morning. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, you’ll see. In fact, I’d ask you try to keep the lookie-loos and rubber-necking to the minimum -- just to get the kids to class as fast as possible.”

“So, you see, we probably need to talk to A-Train about Tommy,” Frank surmised, with Jeff behind him nodding in approval.

“Yeah, looks like we gotta take another trip over to the car shop,” Jeff added.

The group finished getting ready to leave for class when Juan Cano, the “all-everything” kicker, was seen returning to the locker after having already left for his next class. He looked awestruck at something he saw.

Coach Fontana was one of several coaches who caught the young man before he could gossip to his friends. The head coach quickly sat his kicker on the bench with the other coaches. Then Coach Fontana blew his regular three short blasts from his whistle. That triggered the Pavlovian response in every football team member to report to the coach.

“Okay, fellas, we got a couple of minutes before you go to your next class, but I wanted to tell you what was going on by the car shop.” A few seconds of lapsed attention followed, each player looking toward a neighbor as if to ask, ‘Did you hear that?’

“Sometime this weekend, there was apparently a fight that broke out over by the car shop. The janitors this morning reported finding a lot of blood, but no one was reported hurt, so the police are investigating what happened,” Coach Fontana asserted.

He was wringing his hands, and it looked as if he had an eternal debate within himself about what to say next. He took a deep breath and smoothly let it out before continuing, “This morning, the police found a dead body in one of the large trash dumpsters behind the cafeteria.” The coach had to stop again while the looks and grunts of amazement made their way through the football teams. “They found the body of Victor Anthony.” There was a stunned silence, and no one took their dazed eyes off Coach Fontana.

“Now, Mr. Cano here has just reported something the police intimated to me, but since then, I have seen it as well. This weekend, the school has also been hit by graffiti, and nearly every interior wall of the school has been — ‘tagged,’ I believe is the correct phrase — by someone showing their so-called allegiance to the Darq Squad.”

He let the news settle throughout the teams before continuing, “The police have tried to cordon off many of the walls to take pictures, but they have not finished their work, and they realize that class has to go on, so please give the walls and those working on them a wide berth as they do their work. You all need to go on to do your own work and get to class with as little dilly-dallying as possible. Once their investigations have finished, the administration has already prepared to have the walls repainted.”

Coach Fontana paused for effect and started again with more emphasis in his voice. “Again, stay away from the walls and get yourself to class. You are leaders in the school, and I expect you all not to stand around gawking at the graffiti and get yourself to your class. If anyone gets a tardy for today, I will be adding punishment to you for practice this afternoon. That punishment will be jogging until I get tired of watching you jogging around the track.” Just then, the bell rang, signaling the end of the class and the start of the seven-minute passing period between classes. Several of the guys ran back to their lockers since they had lost a couple minutes of getting dressed while listening to the coach.