Chapter 5

“WE NEED to do something,” Brenda said at the informal gathering of the basketball team. She was the smallest on the team, but also the oldest at nearly eighteen. “I’ve been on his end of abuse. Why do you think I chose not to be a cheerleader any longer? I’d go to war if I found out one of you had been raped or abused.”

“What can we do?” Rosie asked. In a weird switch, she was the tallest player but also the youngest ninth grader on the team.

“We should make sure he doesn’t have to walk home alone,” Natalie said. “They caught up with him after he stayed late to help Coach with the team selection. It’s our responsibility.”

“Oh, just a minute girl. Coach says we have to put up with him as our team manager. Nobody’s paying me to be his babysitter.” The only other senior on the team, Carol had little use for underclassmen—especially Dennis. She was seriously reconsidering whether she even wanted to be on a team with these children.

“How much do you charge an hour?” Daniella asked. “Maybe we can pay you to care.”

“I don’t need this. I thought we were meeting for team business. When kindergarten gets out, call me.” Carol got up and left the room. Her teammates watched her go, wondering if she’d be back.

“Back to the problem,” Natalie said. “What else can we do?”

“Those three guys are the problem,” Diane said. “We should report them to the police.”

“I heard the sheriff came to visit Dennis later that night,” Roberta said. “Get this, it took him three hours to respond. And when he’d taken statements from Dennis and Coach, he said it was just his word against theirs. Everyone knows the Smiths are untouchable.”

“How do they get so much money?” Leanne asked. A tenth grade classmate of Natalie and Dennis, she was the only black girl on the team. That made sense in a way. Hers was the only black family in town.

“Oh, you don’t know?” Brenda asked. “What’s the major cash crop of this part of Iowa?”

“Corn,” chimed several of her teammates.

“And what’s the major ingredient of moonshine?”

“Corn,” whispered Leanne.

“Right. I don’t have anything against the alcohol industry particularly. If he created a legal business and paid the taxes, I’d say fine. Successful businessman. But Lee’s great grandfather started a still in the backwoods during prohibition almost a hundred years ago. Everyone knows they’re still making moonshine. And it’s stronger than legally allowed. Competes with Everclear,” Amy said.

“How do you know so much about it?” Leanne asked.

“My brother. He’s one of the bullies and brags about what Lee’s 180 proof moonshine will do to a man. So, I looked it up. 180 proof is ninety percent alcohol. In the United States, moonshine is limited to being distilled at eighty percent alcohol and can’t be bottled at more than 62.5%.”

“How do they get away with it?”

“Money,” Brenda said.

“And fists,” Amy added. “That’s how Jerry got involved. He and Harry were recruited to help Lee as an enforcer. If they can’t buy you off or you get too expensive, you can expect a beating. Probably beat until you’re crippled. I hear that’s what happened to Mr. Jenkins at the grocery store. That was before these three, though.” Claude Jenkins was fifty-seven years old and worked as a stock boy in the grocery store. A job he’d held since he was twenty years old after a beating so severe it left him brain damaged and with a permanent limp.

“I’ve been a classmate of Lee’s since kindergarten until he was expelled,” Brenda said. “He’s always been a bully. I don’t think he’ll ever change unless someone gives him a taste of his own medicine and leaves him in the same condition as Mr. Jenkins.”

“I personally don’t think we should do that,” Natalie said. “But can we work out a way for Dennis not to need to walk home alone after practice?”

“I drive to school,” Brenda said. “I can sometimes take him home. I wouldn’t want to do it every night. It would be too much like dating.” All the girls laughed at that.

“We can take a shift,” Roberta said. “With three of us, we’ve been driving to school since we got our licenses.”

“I’ll turn sixteen soon,” Diane said. “Mom’s already said Jude and me can use the car so she doesn’t need to come and get us after practice.”

“That’s really nice of you, Diane,” Natalie said. “I’m glad you’ll have transportation to get back to White Center. I was worried about that.”

“I think the rest of us can pretty much walk in a group,” Amy said. “It just means we don’t leave anyone behind.”

The Angeline Escort Service was born that day. They agreed that no one on the team would be left to go home alone.

Amy, however, had other ideas as well. That night she began her surveillance of the C-Store and started collecting the names and pictures of the people who came to the back door to get drugs from her brother.

The team managers workshop had been fun on Saturday. Dennis wished he’d had an opportunity like that the year before. He got a chance to meet managers from other schools when they all divided up by sport. The other girls’ team managers were all girls. They were a little suspicious of him at first. One even asked if he was gay. But by the end of their workshop together, they’d all exchanged phone numbers and checked the schedule to see when their teams played each other.

On Tuesday, he was preparing equipment after school and checking the balls to make sure they were at the right pressure. Then something caught his attention and he realized they had a problem. He carried the game ball Coach Byers had given him into Ardith’s office.

“Coach, there’s a problem we need to deal with, I’m sorry to say.”

“What is it Dennis. Was the game ball damaged?” she asked.

“Not exactly. It’s the wrong ball. This is a size seven ball and the rules say the women should use a size six.”

Ardith groaned. She knew the balls were different sizes and hadn’t thought a thing about it. She’d bet all the balls on the rack were size seven as well.

“I should have thought of that when we met with Coach Byers,” she said. “Hmm. I’m going to let you handle this, Dennis. Just take the ball back to Coach Byers and explain the problem. He ordered the balls for his team, so he probably needs it anyway. See if you can come up with a solution.”

He nodded and left her office. Before he went to see Coach Byers, though, he stopped to check his computer. Wow! Game balls like this one cost $70. He went back to the equipment cage and checked all the other balls on the rack, surprised to find there was about a 50/50 mix of size six and seven balls. He looked at the boys’ basketballs and discovered about the same mix. Then he headed for the office.

“What brings you over today, Dennis?” Coach asked.

“Coach Graves checked with the IGHSAU and got permission for our team to start training the first of October instead of the first of November since we’re a new team. So, I went to the cage and started checking the air pressure in our balls. I’m afraid we can’t use the game ball you gave us,” he explained.

“Why not?”

“It’s a size seven instead of the women’s regulation size six. There’s over an inch difference in circumference.”

“Well, that’s a fine pickle. I didn’t even think about that. We have the same thing in junior high. I wonder what we have for the junior high teams. Let’s take a wander over to the other side and see if we can rouse anyone there.” The two walked to the other side of the gym where the classrooms and locker rooms for the sixth, seventh, and eighth grade school were. The school was laid out in a kind of H-shape with the gym between the two schools. Jim knocked on the door of Coach Wilson’s office and was warmly greeted.

“How’s it going, Frank? Training any good prospects for us to latch onto next year?” Jim asked.

“Too early to tell. The youngest Long boy, Danny, is in sixth grade this year. That family practically eats and breathes basketball so I’ve got good hopes for him.”

“Yes, his brother Don is a senior this year. He’ll probably be our point guard. You’ve got two of their sisters on the girls’ team, don’t you Dennis?”

“Yes, sir. Judith and Diane. They’re really happy we have a team this year,” Dennis said.

“Frank, I’d like you to meet Dennis Enders. He’s the manager for our new women’s basketball team, the Angelines. Dennis, Coach Wilson.”

“I’m happy to meet you, sir,” Dennis offered.

“Ah. I heard the scuttlebutt about the women’s team. I suppose we’ll need a girls’ team here at the junior high next year to start training girls for high school. I doubt the school board knew what they were signing on for,” Frank said. “Welcome to the team, Dennis. What’s up?”

“We’re on a raiding mission,” Jim said. “We discovered most of our basketballs are size seven instead of six, including this new game ball. I got to thinking that we buy a few new balls for the junior high each year and I’m sure they are all size six since that is regulation. We could use a little help here.”

“I see. Yes, I try to spend every cent they give me in my equipment budget, so I always order a couple of new balls for the season. I could probably give you a few practice balls, too. Let’s take a look in the locker.” The three went to the junior high sports locker, a cage much like the one Dennis had a key for. This locker was filled with sports equipment—most of it smaller than what was in the senior high locker. There were racks of basketballs. On a shelf were three new game balls. “With the season cut short last year, we never did open one of our game balls. But I still ordered my allotted two for this season. Will this work for you?” He handed Dennis a new boxed ball and Dennis checked to make sure it was the right size.

“This looks perfect, Coach. Thank you.”

“We have a lot of kids that play in junior high. You might remember it from when you were here,” Frank said. “As a result, we use a lot of balls and have some designated for indoors and some for outdoors. I’ve even got a few of the size five balls that got mixed in from the elementary school. I don’t think we’ll miss this one.”