Chapter 51

Where is the boundary between grief and hate? Between hate and insanity? Had any professional been aware of the importance of these questions in regard to Penelope Overland, she could have been the basis of a fascinating study. The fact that no one suspected anything deeper than the difficulty of recovering from the death of a child told a lot about Penelope's makeup.

Genetically and culturally, she was imbued with some very strong traits. First of all, she was undeniably intelligent. Second, her intelligence was the devious kind, adept at scheming and manipulation. Third, with one glaring exception, she was blessed with strong self-awareness and self-control.

That one exception was her son, Greg. Although it was never manifested physically, Penelope was deeply, romantically, lustfully, obsessively in love with her son. His death was to her the loss of the dominant passion of her life. For all of her intelligence, her deviousness, and her ego, she was not spared the consuming, incestuous love that would never be consummated, nor even returned. When the object of that obsession was tragically removed from her, the hopelessness of her infatuation was the part that she never remembered. She was a woman whose lover had been wrongfully taken from her.

The New Years eve that Greg lay naked and exposed on the floor in a drunken stupor had been the supreme test of Penelope's will power. The sight of his genitals, long a source of curiosity and fantasy, had her so aroused that she could barely refrain from kneeling in worship. She had cursed the breeding that held back.

Even though it was apparent from many incidents that Greg had no respect for his mother, let alone any love, Penelope either never noticed or refused to acknowledge that fact. None of the things that she had done to spoil him did anything to improve his attitude toward her, but her devotion to him was undiminished.

Greg was the quintessential alpha male, possessed of all of the looks, intelligence, athleticism, and animal magnetism expected of a 'herd bull'. Penelope knew without a doubt that it was her DNA that had produced her amazing offspring. There was nothing about her husband, Brandon, that hinted at those attributes. Of course, Penelope completely discounted the fact that her mother-in-law, Genevieve Overland, was a female version of Greg in many ways.

Marrying into wealth, even while bringing along her own massive fortune, was not an easy thing for Penelope. She was the outsider, always under scrutiny. But HER son was the Overland future, and that would change everything.

Penelope's ego was monumental, and everything about her life had reinforced her exalted view of herself in relation to everyone else as being realistic and perfectly justified. The worth of any human being could only be judged by their socio-economic standing, in her mind. Those with no worth deserved no consideration of any kind from her. She was a startling throwback to the royalty of feudal days.

When Greg died in the crash while fleeing the police, Penelope had been sent to a treatment center. Her stability had already been in question because of her unwavering belief that her son was totally blameless in all of the things that had happened to him.

Penelope knew that her true feelings, her true state of mind could never be revealed. She also knew that revenge could be purchased. As soon as she was back home and the close surveillance of her had been eased, she began accumulating a large horde of readily available funds to buy that revenge.

Nothing could dissuade Penelope from her certainty that those peasant teenagers, Rebecca, Bobby, Cheryl, and Cal were the offenders and her son Greg was the innocent victim. Their actions had led directly to his death, but they had never been punished for their crimes. It was a matter of honor for her to rectify that travesty. Her life could never be right again, but revenge would help.

The crafty part of her knew that she must appear to have mellowed, but in her heart and mind, that would never happen. Those four were nobodies, nobodies who had caused her treasured son harm, leading to his death.

No amount of legal opinion or counseling could dent her certainty. Nobodies could not be allowed to harm the nobility in any way, and those four must be punished. They had harmed her in the most grievous way imaginable, and her life could not continue in its appointed fashion until that wrong was avenged.

Penelope's cash supply had grown to $1 million by the time Cal was achieving national attention for his first college football play. It was a modest sum in the vastness of her family's fortune, but converting it from established funds, accounts, and properties without causing suspicion required the best of her guile. Having limited knowledge of the dark side, she believed that cash was the way payments for illegal services were best handled.

When Penelope became aware of Cal's fame, it forced to her to move. In her mind, that was the fame that should have been Greg's. Cal had stolen it. That brought her to a difficult point. She knew what she wanted done, but she did not know how to find someone to do it. She had no doubt there would be someone willing for the right price, but who were they? How did she tell them her needs?

After the brief flap over Pat Clancy, things actually settled down for Cal and Cheryl. It was hard to categorize their lives as normal, even though that seemed to be what Cal longed for most. Both of them were first-string college athletes. She was a straight 'A' student, and both were on track to finish in three years. They were living together as if married. That probably did not fit anyone's definition of normal. Still, for a couple whose teen years had been punctuated by frequent danger and tension, the rest of that autumn was relative bliss.

Both of them were elated over the exploding romance between their good friends and teammates Maddy and Hector. That elation was punctuated with doses of humor at times, as both of the newly lovestruck tended to act like pre-teens going through their first crush.

More than amusement, though, the big reaction from all who knew Maddy and Hector was admiration. Although obviously madly in love, what they did together was always influenced by the beliefs of their families. "That's not so different from you," Cheryl pointed out to Cal when they were discussing it one evening. "Sure, we were sleeping together at a pretty young age. But with your parents, life-long commitment and monogamy are the big things."

"What about when it was both you and Tessa?" he objected.

"Don't you think they knew you weren't going all the way with Tessa? And don't forget the way they accepted me, even with what I was doing with Greg."

"So, you're saying we respect our parents just as much as Maddy and Hector?"

"They just have different expectations," she asserted. "Cal, are you feeling guilty about how we live?"

"No way! I feel like the luckiest guy on campus. I wouldn't change a thing."

"Maddy and Hector just have to sort things out on their own, you know."

"You're right," he agreed. "And I shouldn't feel sorry for them."

There was another possible romance developing. After his unexpected acceptance by the group of volleyball friends and family, Ryan had been appearing regularly. The others could tell that his guilt over his involvement with Pat weighed heavily on him, but his need for friendship brought him out anyway.

At first, there was no particular connection between Ryan and Sharon, and he was probably not even considering one. Apparently, Sharon was. Being as tall as she was, the pool of males reasonably available to her was restricted. With the relationships she saw within the group, it was not surprising that she would be motivated to seek a parter. She was definitely hetero.

Certainly, Ryan's initial contact with the group was anything but compelling to a potential girlfriend. Sharon, however, had not been involved in the original incident. When she met him, he seemed like a different person than the one who broke into the apartment with Pat.

Following the second after-game volleyball party, Sharon pulled Cheryl aside and asked her "Why do you think Ryan comes to our games?"

"I think he really needs some friends."

"But what about, you know, when he came in with Pat?"

"Sharon, I think that was just a case of him hooking up with the wrong friend."

"Do you think that's a, um, personality defect?"

Cheryl could not resist pulling her friend's chain a little. "Do you mean is it incurable? Would it make him a bad boyfriend? Is that what you mean?"

The teasing did not work, and Cheryl was immediately sorry she had done it. Sharon's face fell and it looked like she was near tears. Backpedaling as fast as she could, Cheryl explained "I think Ryan just made a bad choice of friends. Even from that game that Saturday morning, Ryan did not seem like he belonged with Pat. You've met his mother, and you know how distraught they both were over the attack. Sharon, I think Ryan is a really nice guy who made a mistake. He's obviously smart and should have a bright future, too."

"Well, I don't know if he's even interested in me, but I think he's nice," Sharon admitted. "I just hope he keeps coming to the games."

"Tell you what," Cheryl said. "You make friends with his mom."

"You mean, you think he's a mama's boy?"

"No, it's not that. I think that right now he realizes that some things his mother has been saying all along should have been listened to. Right now, her advice is golden, as far as he's concerned."

"So if she encourages him to ask me out, he would?" Sharon asked hopefully.

"Couldn't hurt."

Both Cal and Cheryl had more than enough to occupy their minds as their respective seasons entered the heart of their schedules. The volleyball team was expected to win their conference, as they had quite regularly over the past several years. The football team was starting to believe that they could contend.

Maddy's and Hector's mutual declarations of their feelings for each other brought her out of her temporary distraction, and by the next game, she was her usual dynamic, dominating court presence. Apparently, it had not been hormones that were the problem as much as the need for assurance and affirmation. Cheryl was greatly relieved to have her partner back at full force.

The football team's next game was on the road again, the third time in four games. The opponents were perennial second or third place finishers in the conference. Cal's team had not won on their field since any of the current coaching staff had been in place. It was to be the last game in which they were able to surprise their opposition. From that point on, word of their new strength and of the ferocity of their defense would have reached all of the other schools.

The game was very good for the team because they were able to achieve a resounding win without any particularly dramatic events occurring. Cal, Hector, and the rest of the defense played with their now-accustomed ferocity, and the opponents were visibly battered at the final gun. That, however, was no longer noteworthy. The seventeen-point victory margin sent a clear message to the rest of the conference that a new power had arisen.

The next two football games were at home. The first was against a weaker team, and the coach was able to use it as a great teaching aid. The team won, but their play was lackluster. Playing down to the opposition is something that coaches always dread, and that dread translated to a brutal week of practice.

The lesson took. The next game was against a team that usually finished above them, and it was a legitimate rout. The players showed no mercy, and neither did the fans. It would be a long time before their long-suffering supporters could be unaffected by a lop-sided win.

That brought the season to its climactic point. The fifth conference game was away, at the three-time champion. The coaches had all refused to even mention that game earlier in the season, but the local press had no such restraint. It was the biggest sports news in town for a long time, and even the national sports press took notice. Cal's hit on Rory Renton and the team's surprising showing in that game had been the first thing to draw national attention. The upset win in the second game had brought further notice. Even though theirs was a lesser conference, a legitimate struggle for supremacy made for good copy.

As for the team, tension was the main reaction. Most of the players had come from successful high school programs, but the upper-classmen had been through some tough years at college. They were all excited about what was happening, but their new-found confidence was still fragile. Cal and Ricky, who was also a freshman, had not lived through any of the bad years. They still expected to win, just as they always had in high school.

It was not Cal's way to be the life of the locker room, and he did not naturally clown around during practice. It was Hector who sensed what was needed. "Cal, some of these guys are so tight they twang!" he said part way through Monday's drills. "We've to to do something or they won't be worth shit on Saturday."

"Hey, I'm not the rah-rah type. You know that," Cal objected.

"Yeah, but this stuff doesn't seem to phase you. You and me and Tank and Deke are going shopping tonight," Hector said in a voice that left no room for discussion. Tank was a guard and Deke was a blocking fullback.

"Shopping? What for?" Cheryl demanded when Cal told her of Hector's ultimatum. Maddy was just as incredulous, but she was willing to come along and help, while Cheryl just had to study. As it turned out, Maddy helped out with some great ideas. They ended up spending some money and taking up most of the evening, but the four were convinced that their ideas would help at practice the next day.

On the very first run-through in the offense drill the next day, the center seemed to sleep-walk through the play. Deke ran to the sideline and minced back with one limp wrist held out from his body and a spray bottle of cheap perfume in the other hand. He doused the center in the perfume to huge response from the rest of the offense.

Other less-than-full-intensity efforts in both offensive and defensive drills were greeted with pink wigs, leis of fake flowers or thrown handfuls of marshmallows. One defensive back was handed a disposable camera after a receiver toasted him with the comment that as long as he would never see the guy up close, he might as well get a picture. When the quarterback threw a pass that came up short, he was handed a slingshot. A defensive end who made a leisurely charge was rushed by two teammates pushing a wheelchair.

There was some positive reinforcement, as well. Stick on bulls horns, gorilla masks, a superman cape, and a boxer's robe with 'Stud' clumsily sewn on the back were awarded for exceptional plays.

The whole attitude of the team turned around and the effect endured for the week. It was a loose, confident crew that boarded the plane on Friday. This was another week when the football and volleyball schedules coincided, so the two teams flew together. The opposing volleyball team was always a threat for the conference title, so the weekend was important to both squads.

The opponents' local media had focused on the fact that Cal's defensive squad was a bunch of thugs. Admittedly, at least one opposing player each week had been knocked out of the game, but as a squad, they were the least penalized in the conference. Because of his hit on Renton, Cal was a natural target of the media. Because his reputation for growling had spread, Hector shared the limelight.

Some enterprising photographer had snapped a 'mug-shot-like' picture of Hector that accompanied one article. Rather shamefacedly, he showed it to Maddy. She promptly had the picture laminated and wore it around her neck constantly.

The coaches of both the football and volleyball teams were strong on team decorum and conduct on the road. However, on their arrival that Friday, they all had to work to restrain their glee as they looked the other way.

Hector was immediately accosted by a gang of reporters shouting inane questions at him. At first confused, then angry, then amused, he suddenly assumed a gorilla pose and let loose with a growl that was louder than any he used on the field. The stunned media people fell back a step or two as Hector's teammates roared with laughter.

Without a thought, Maddy jumped onto Hector's back, and he carried her down the concourse toward baggage. Several times, Maddy saw someone she thought was being disrespectful. She would point and say 'Hector! Kill!'. Obediently, he would lunge toward the designated victim and let loose with another roar. The press people were scrambling after them, getting it all on film.

It must have been hard for the media to reconcile when the team arrived at baggage. Hector casually swung Maddy around to his front and held her almost like a small child. As she cuddled against him and he patted her back, he was hardly recognizable as the growling menace.

Had it been anyone but Hector, always the perfectly behaved team member, the coaches might have thought discipline was necessary. After a quick conference, they decided it had been the perfect response to the media's harangue. They all knew that nothing like it would ever happen again.

From the opening kickoff, Cal knew that there was more than just football on the agenda that day. As soon as he had kicked off, he saw that two opponents had abandoned the wedge and were headed for him.

He understood the psychological importance of intimidation and response. Ken Yokata had emphasized it over and over. He knew that his own fierce tackles were an intimidating factor and he understood that the opposing coaches had to nuetralize that intimidation somehow. That they would essentially sacrifice field position on the opening runback just to diminish him in the eyes of their players was a shock, though.

His surprise at the impending attack did not last long as the years of multi-attacker training took over. First, he had to make sure that there was no threat of the return man breaking loose. Probably due to the loss of the two blockers, the return was stopped at the fifteen, so Cal was free to deal with the two who were intent on hurting him.

By the time the whistle blew the play dead, the two men were into their charge at Cal. He doubted that they would have stopped, no matter what happened. He knew that these were 'sacrificial lambs' - third or fourth string players whose loss, should it occur, would have no effect on the team.

Without thinking about it, Cal sensed that one man would come in high and the other low. It was important to protect his legs, so as soon as he could tell which man was going low, he stepped toward the other. To gain the expected penalty, he would have to allow contact. He just had to manage it so that he was not injured.

Rather than trying to roll backwards with the blow, Cal chose to move out obliquely from the charge. He was bent over with his head lower than his waist when he took the impact. He had rolled to one side and was on his feet again almost before the man came to rest where Cal was supposed to have been.

There had definitely been contact, and it was definitely after the whistle. Even if there had not been contact, the referee understood the opposition's intention, and might have thrown the flag anyway. The end result was that the opponents had to start their initial drive from their eight yard line.

"Watch yourself, Hector," Cal said in the quick defensive huddle. "I'm pretty sure they'll come after you."

"Bring 'em on!" Hector replied.

The opposing coach had at least some restraint. He was unwilling to risk any more problems so close to their goal line, so he played it straight. So did the defense, and the opponents had to punt from their thirteen after three plays.

The three straight conference championships for the opposition had not been flukes, and Cal's team knew they were up against it. They exchanged punts and the other team ended up with the ball at their own forty.

Apparently thinking that they were far enough out of danger, the other coach chose that time to go after Hector. It was obvious, as two lineman who were not on the depth chart were brought in on Hector's side. On two consecutive plays, they targeted Hector and did manage to hit him hard and get him down. There was no real damage, however, until one of the subs jammed his hand through Hector's face mask and cut a gouge down the side of his cheek.