Chapter 9: Tuesday, Aug. 21

Oh, God, was it difficult to get out of bed. I even had trouble reaching over to hit the alarm. I immediately grabbed the packet of ibuprofen and downed the remaining tablets.

My whole body ached as I staggered to the bathroom. Even though it meant I would probably have to skip breakfast, I got into the shower and let the hot water pour over me for about 10 minutes. It did wonders for my sore muscles, helped by the fact that the pain relievers were kicking in, but I still just wanted to crawl back into bed.

I managed to get dressed enough to drive to practice, packed some school clothes in my gym bag and gathered up my backpack and all I would need for the day. There was just enough time for a cup of yogurt and a banana, then I was out the door.

It was a little after 5:30 when I pulled into the parking lot. At least I wasn’t the last to arrive. I dressed out as quickly as I could and carried my socks and cleats into the training room to get taped. Stephanie was again assigned to take care of me. She seemed to be getting faster at the job.

At any rate, I was on the field stretching before Coach Tucker blew his whistle.

I won’t say it was my worst experience on a football field, but it was far from the best. I never really got loose and struggled to run routes to Coach Wilson’s satisfaction. It was small consolation that I wasn’t the only one still feeling the effects of shotgun alley.

Things only got worse when we started running plays with the full offense. My left leg cramped up as I tried to make a cut and I hit the ground face first. It took the trainers a couple of minutes to get me out of the way so practice could continue.

While I was jogging on the side in an effort to get over the cramp, my right leg seized up, but I wasn’t wasting anyone’s time now. I noticed a couple of other guys were battling cramps, too. If it was like this in the morning, how bad would it be in the heat of the afternoon?

We finished up with a round of gassers and huddled around Coach Tucker.

“This will probably be our worst practice of the season,” he said. “The first one after we start hitting always is. But it wasn’t a bad practice. I didn’t see anyone slacking off, and that would have been easy to do. You gave it what you had despite the conditions.

“This afternoon likely won’t be much better after sitting in class all day, but you’ll have more time to get loose. The heat will actually help that. Remember to stay hydrated and stretch when you get the chance. The worst is almost over. Now break it out.”

We shouted “TEAM!” on three and jogged to the locker room, pretty much all of us moving stiffly. Another hot shower ended way too soon, but I think I got clean enough to not offend anyone who’d be downwind of me during my classes.

Marshawn had to get in a dig as we passed each other.

“I must be losin’ my touch,” he said with a cackle. “You walkin’ under your own power this mornin.’”

“Not very easily,” I admitted, getting a bigger laugh out of him.

After getting dressed, I headed into the training room to fill my water bottle and see about getting some more ibuprofen. Doc asked me how much I’d taken since last night and grudgingly gave me two more tablets.

“Check back with me during athletic period,” he said. “If it’s real pain, there could be something wrong that we need to know about. If it’s just soreness from getting run over yesterday, it’ll wear off soon enough.”

“Yes, sir,” I said. “Thank you.”

I managed to make it through my morning classes without much trouble. I didn’t cramp up again thanks to teachers’ understanding that football players should be allowed to get up and stretch when needed. I tried to make sure I did so before the tardy bell rang, but I had to get up a couple of times during the middle of lectures.

I had the strange feeling someone was watching me as I returned to my locker after second period and turned to see Mrs. Montero looking in my direction. I was starting to get a complex. I’d received more attention from administrators in less than two weeks than I had my first three years of high school combined.

When fourth period arrived, I was feeling marginally better. I’d consumed at least two liters of water during the first three classes and the stretching and ibuprofen seemed to help ease my discomfort.

After stuffing my backpack in my locker and heading back out to the fieldhouse, I dressed in workout clothes and joined the rest of the guys in the weightroom for our lower-body lifting. I wished we’d done the flexibility exercises today. I got the feeling they’d go a long way in helping me get over the stiffness and soreness.

Unlike Monday, Coach Bennett kept on us to pick up the pace. While we didn’t have film study today, his excuse was that the trainers needed time to provide any needed treatment.

After I completed my lifting, I checked in with Doc as requested. I told him I was feeling a little better, but thought I’d been lucky to not cramp up during class this morning.

I found myself face down on a table with heat packs covering my back and legs. It felt so wonderful, I almost dozed off as I became more relaxed. Cody, the student trainer in my Algebra II class, made sure that didn’t happen by having me go over his homework with him. I think it was just a ruse. If he really needed help, he’d have asked Morgan.

A quick rinse in the shower and a banana later, I got dressed just in time for the bell to ring. Morgan was waiting outside. I hoped she’d do a better job of protecting me from marauding cheerleaders today.

“How are you feeling?” she asked as we headed toward the cafeteria.

“I’ll live,” I said. “Those heat packs really helped. I was about ready to take a nap.”

We got into line and looked over our choices. It appeared Tuesday was going to be meatloaf day this year. I went ahead and got it again despite having heaved it all up a week ago. That had nothing to do with food quality and everything to do with Coach Tucker running us into the ground after Franks gave the entire team detention. That shouldn’t be an issue today.

What would be an issue arrived at our table in the form of Holly Moseley, the girl I’d taken to the Winter Formal last year. Before I could even take my seat, she hauled off and slapped the shit out of me.

It certainly wasn’t as hard as I’d been hit by Marshawn yesterday during shotgun alley, or even as hard as Aaron Jenson had sucker punched me back in June at the club pool. The difference was I’d been in full pads and able to prepare myself for what Marshawn had dished out. Like with Aaron, I was caught totally off guard.

“You bastard!” Holly seethed. “You made me look like a fool!”

I had no idea what she was talking about and had no time to figure it out as all hell broke loose. I was just reaching up to rub my cheek when a little brunette fireball went tearing past me and attacked Holly.

“YOU BITCH!” Morgan screamed as she delivered a slap of her own. “YOU DO NOT DO THAT TO MY MAN!”

I managed to grab Morgan around the waist and pull her back before any hair pulling or eye gouging occurred. Jed had Holly, who was practically spitting fire, in a similar hold.

“LET ME GO!” both girls raged as three teachers on lunchroom duty descended upon our little fracas.

Jed let out a howl of pain as Holly stomped on the inside of his foot, but the big guy maintained his grip.

“All of you, to the office,” one teacher commanded.

It took a minute to get the girls calmed down enough to make the trip without resuming hostilities. It helped that both were escorted by teachers who kept them separated and maintained a firm grip on their upper arms.

Jed and I were also ushered to the office, our lunches untouched. My buddy was limping noticeably and I offered him a shoulder to lean on. Before we even reached the door, two guys from the cabana crew took over for me.

“You may be stronger than you look,” Chuck Edwards said to me as he took my place, “but you don’t even bench as much as he weighs.”

For once, Chuck wasn’t trying to be funny.

We made our way to the front office, which was becoming an entirely too frequent event for me. Jed and I were told to take a seat in the waiting area as the girls were shown back to whichever assistant principal would administer justice. Chuck and Andrew Pearson, who’d helped Jed make the trip, were dismissed and returned to the cafeteria.

“What was that about?” Jed groaned as he reached down to rub his foot.

“I honestly do not know,” I said. “I haven’t even seen her since February.”

We remained silent after that under the assumption that anything we said could be held against us. The lunch period was nearly over before we were summoned to Mrs. Montero’s office. She was not happy to see me.

Jed used the wall of the hallway to support himself as he limped along.

“Tell me what happened,” our acting principal ordered while giving me a cold stare.

I related what I knew of the events — Holly slapping me and accusing me of making her look like a fool, Morgan retaliating and Jed and I trying to intervene to prevent an all-out catfight.

“Why would Miss Moseley make such an accusation?” Mrs. Montero asked.

“I don’t know,” I said.

“You dated last year,” Mrs. Montero said. “It sounds like the end of the relationship was less than amicable. Is that a factor?”

“I don’t know,” I repeated. “It wasn’t much of a relationship. We only went out a few times. Our last date was the Winter Formal. Today was the first time she’s said a word to me since then.”

“Why would Miss Ensberry behave as she did?” Mrs. Montero asked.

God, could this woman please ask me a question that I might have a ghost of a chance of answering? I couldn’t even begin to fathom the psychology of a 16-year-old girl.

“I guess she was protecting her turf,” I said. “We started dating over the summer.”

“Mr. Richards, tell me your side of the story,” Mrs. Monterey said.

“Pretty much the same, except I never dated either girl,” Jed said with a note of pain in his voice. “All I tried to do was break it up.”

“Are you all right?” Mrs. Montero asked Jed, actually showing some concern.

“I probably need to go see Doc or Trapper,” Jed said. “Holly stomped on my foot with one of those self-defense moves. I don’t think I can put any weight on it.”

Mrs. Montero was quickly on the phone to the school nurse, who arrived shortly with a wheelchair to take Jed to her little infirmary. I didn’t know how badly he was hurt, but there was going to be a shitstorm if he missed any time for something as silly as some girl being pissed at me.

Mrs. Montero turned her attention back to me once the nurse departed with Jed.

“I told you yesterday I’d better not see you in here again,” she said. “Zero tolerance means zero tolerance. Report to the cafeteria after the last bell for detention.”

Jesus Christ! I was being punished for getting slapped? This was total bullshit!

“Yes, ma’am,” I said, fighting down the urge to say what I was thinking. What was it about the administrators at our school that made them such humorless assholes?

The worst part of it was she wasn’t done with me.

“This is the third incident you’ve been involved in in the cafeteria,” she said, totally ignoring the fact that I had instigated none of them. “If this continues, you’ll be moved out of D lunch.”

The only way for that to happen was to change my schedule, moving me out of the athletic period to a class that fit in with one of the other lunch periods. No way in hell was I letting that happen. I’d take my chances with eating off campus first. Or start packing a lunch.

“And don’t think you can use your influence to get rid of me like you did Dr. Franks,” she said icily. “I totally disagree with the decision to expunge the other disciplinary actions from your record, but that was made by Dr. Stirling.”

What. The. Fuck. She couldn’t seriously believe I’d had anything to do with that, could she?

“Ma’am, I played no role in that,” I said. “If I had, I wouldn’t have reported to ISS like I did. I’d have been right in the middle of that meeting yesterday making my own demands.”

We just stared each other down, neither of us willing to blink.

“You’d better learn some respect for authority, young man,” she hissed.

“I have plenty of respect for authority,” I said. “It’s people who misuse it that I have problems with.”

The staring contest continued. I might wind up in ISS for the rest of my life, but I wasn’t backing down on this.

“Get to class,” she finally said.

“Yes, ma’am.”

With a hall pass in hand, I went to my locker to get what I’d need for Algebra II and Chemistry.

Fifth period was nearly half over before I got to the classroom. I’d have to get with Cody to catch up on what I’d missed.

Mr. Henderson accepted my hall pass and homework without comment, but the attention of the other students was certainly on me as I took my seat. I kept up with the lecture rather than dwell on my latest encounter with officialdom. Things were just so weird, I didn’t want to try to figure all the ramifications.

Things got even worse as far as the attention went during the break between classes. A girl I didn’t recognize came up to me and told me I deserved worse than I got for treating Holly the way I had. A couple of guys laughed and asked if I seriously thought I could get away with juggling two girlfriends.

I had little choice but to take it. I didn’t bother trying to explain the real situation. No one would have believed me and it would have taken too long, anyway.

Chemistry went OK. At least I got 100 on my homework.

Creative Writing delved deeper into how to craft a narrative. We were assigned a pretty good chunk of reading on how to do so, giving me a way to kill time during detention.

When the bell rang, I gathered my stuff and went to my locker to figure out what to take with me for homework. I passed by the main office just as Coach Tucker exited. From the expression on his face, I could tell this wouldn’t be good.

“You’d better get to the cafeteria,” he said. “You know what you have to do. We’ll talk after practice.”

“Yes, sir,” I said and hurried on my way.

Mr. Dunwoody was his usual jovial self when I reached my destination. I signed in and took a seat well away from the other inmates.

“Just can’t stay away, can you?” he smirked as I pulled out my assigned reading. “A word of advice — it’s never a good idea to be having it off with more than one girl at a time. You aren’t anywhere near smooth enough to get away with it.”

“Yes, sir,” I said.

“I thought I was going to have to put that little one in a straight jacket,” he continued. “Even the real thugs in ISS were afraid of her.”

That was the first I’d heard of what punishment Morgan had received. As if her parents didn’t already have enough reason to disapprove of me.

I just stayed quiet and began reading. I made it through in about 20 minutes and went back over a couple of sections I didn’t quite get the first time through.

I went over some Economics and Western Civ before Mr. Dunwoody released us from captivity. Now it was time to get started on the next phase of my punishment.

I dressed in full gear when I reached the fieldhouse. I’d just have to go without getting my ankles taped, but it wasn’t like I’d be engaging in any contact until I finished running 100 gassers.