Chapter 92

Tuesday, July 24

I went straight to my room when I arrived home and was in bed by 9 p.m.

Monday really had worn me out. At least Morgan seemed glad to see me.

The early bedtime also resulted in an early awakening as I was up and moving before 6 a.m. Tuesday. Mom and Dad both seemed surprised to find me putting my breakfast dishes in the dishwasher upon their arrival.

Mom wanted to know all about my reunion with Morgan. I gave her a heavily edited version that somehow had us going from a midafternoon arrival back from the city to dinner at Familia Benavidez without the nearly four-hour layover at the apartment.

Dad’s only comment was that the yard looked good.

I packed a change of clothes to take with me to the morning workout. I’d go straight from there to Dave Harris’ office to make sure everything was taken care of with the transfer of the settlement money to the investment account. Then I’d swing by school to see about getting a parking spot. If I got done in time, I’d head back to the club for lunch.

With time to kill, I chatted with Kacie about Saturday’s party. She wasn’t going to make me wear a tie, for which I was grateful, but thought the sport coat would be a nice touch. I added getting her gift to my to-do list while I was out.

I got my gym bag and drove to the club. Most of the guys, as well as Keri and Erin B., were already stretching. I joined in and was ready to go when Jed called for us to line up. After running, snapping and huddling, I joined the guys who wanted to do their lower-body lifting now. I think there was some kind of conspiracy going on as they kept loading me up with more weight than I’d been lifting, but I made it through more or less in one piece.

I was tempted to head to the massage room after that. I was definitely feeling sore. A hot shower did wonders for my aching glutes and quads.

While the other guys headed their separate ways, I donned khakis, a polo and deck shoes and headed over to Dave Harris’ office. I had to wait a few minutes before he could see me, but he helped the transaction go smoothly.

I called up the bank app on my phone and Dave walked me through how to make the transfer. Just to make sure, he called the bank’s cyber division to make sure everything was up to snuff. Within 20 minutes, we had confirmation that it had gone through and the money would be under his control by the start of the next business day.

We chatted for a bit while we waited. He told me Molly was still enjoying days at the pool, but was getting excited about starting kindergarten in a few weeks. Once we received notification, I thanked him for his help and rose to leave.

“Thanks for coming by,” he said, extending his hand. “I’ll always be glad to take your money.”

Just as I got to the door, he added one more thing.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” he said. “George Patterson said to tell you hello.”

From the way he smiled, I took it to mean he was looking to clean up on the deal himself.

“Thanks,” I said. “I’ll see you at the club.”

I pulled into the visitors lot in front of the high school and went inside to see about getting a parking spot. The lady in the office put me through a process more involved than what I went through on the day I took possession of the vehicle.

She was at least nice enough to tell me what all I needed before she had me start filling out the paperwork. First, I needed photos of all four sides of the vehicle with the license plates clearly visible on the front and back shots. She called up an example on her computer screen to show me how to do it. Then I had to provide copies of license, registration and proof of insurance, which she could make there in the office. After that, I could start filling out the application form.

I ran back outside to take the pictures with my phone. Somebody had parked right next to me, so I moved the Beemer over to a less-populated area of the parking lot, making sure I had a couple of clear spaces all the way around, and started clicking. I went around twice, once with the top up and then with it down, just to cover my butt.

Retrieving the necessary documents from the glovebox, I headed back inside. I handed the office lady my phone and let her scroll through the photos so she could point out which ones best met the requirements, then I emailed the selections to her so she could put them in the computer system. I could only imagine how much space that much data took up when you figured almost 2,000 students could register vehicles with the school.

I began filling out the form while she went to make copies of my license, registration and insurance. She looked things over, asked me to clarify a couple of items, such as the fact that I was listed as owner and not my parents was indeed the case, and attached the copies. She told me I would be notified before the first day of school whether or not I would be approved.

“He’d better be,” I heard Coach Tucker say from behind me. “He’s one of mine.”

The office lady immediately grabbed a rubber stamp and put APPROVED on my application. Then she called up a list, verified which spots were available and took Coach’s advice on putting me smack in the middle of several other football players. She then added the number of my parking spot in the appropriate box on my form.

“You’ve been notified,” she said. “Have a nice day.”

I turned and greeted Coach, thanking him for expediting matters.

“I’m glad I ran into you,” he said as he handed a folder of paperwork to the lady. “We need to get you over to the registrar and change your schedule.”

“I’ve got the time if you do,” I told him.

Since the registrar’s office was just across the hall, it wasn’t too much of a hassle to get there. What was too much of a hassle was convincing the old hag in charge that this was a legitimate request.

“This is highly unusual,” she complained. “We set everyone’s schedules in May.”

Coach politely explained to her that my inclusion in the football program did not come about until early June, more than two full weeks after school let out.

“It’s not any more trouble than having a student transfer in from outside the district,” he said. “I know we usually get a few dozen of them every year when school starts. This is one less thing you’ll have to deal with on Aug. 13.”

She still didn’t look pleased as she called up my file. I could sympathize with the woman once I realized how much was going to be involved.

The schedule I’d worked out in the spring went Economics, Western Civ, English IV, AP Chemistry, senior lunch, Algebra II, Mass Comm and study hall. Everything through Algebra II was college prep with the English, science and math classes being the last requirements I needed for graduation. The Mass Comm class would be my first chance to see if sports broadcasting really was in my future and the study hall was basically a blowoff. Once roll was taken, I’d be free to go for the day.

Sadly, study hall was the obvious cut. Then came the hard part. Athletics was fourth period. It wouldn’t hurt to be a few minutes late to the cafeteria and would likely actually help as the line would have died down by the time the jocks showed up.

The problem was the only other session of AP Chemistry I could move to was sixth period and there was no other Mass Comm offering. I had to pick up an elective for seventh period and the choices were limited: Creative Writing or freshman Home Ec.

The pervert in me actually considered Home Ec. Just imagine, me and 20 or so freshman girls in the same room. Cute freshman girls. Impressionable freshman girls. Freshman girls who would do almost anything for a ride in my convertible.

Then I remembered what my life was like just trying to deal with the Gang of Eight. Creative Writing would probably help more with all the college applications I’d be filling out, anyway.

Coach Tucker and I thanked the lady for her help and she printed out a copy of my new schedule with all the classroom assignments. That’s when I learned just how screwed up things were going to be. Chemistry was in the East Wing, halfway across campus from Creative Writing, which was in the northwest corner of the North Wing at the front of the campus. The fieldhouse and practice field were the last things on the south side of campus, nearly a half mile away.

The final bell rang at 3:30. Practice after school would start at 4:15 p.m. And I would be operating on Coach Tucker Time. That meant being dressed in full pads and on the field stretching by 4:05.

I pointed all this out to Coach as we walked out of the registrar’s office. He just gave me a cheese-eating grin.

“Looks like you’ve got your work cut out for you,” he said. “Just don’t be late.”

By now, it was pushing noon. I decided to forego lunch at the club in favor of getting Kacie’s birthday present. I could eat at the foodcourt in the mall.

I texted Morgan while I ate to see if she could tell me what perfume my sister wore, thinking I’d get her an atomizer like I had Staci. My girlfriend replied with Kacie’s preferred scent as well as her own, mentioning she’d gladly accept Chanel No. 5 as a substitute. It seems she was aware of my gift for the cheerleader’s Sweet 16.