Chapter 8

The ride to Wilkins was typical of Corbly’s bus trips all season. It was almost a six-hour ride and the players made the trip in silence. Some listened to headphones; some did homework or read books and some, like Brock, just sat and stared straight ahead, supposedly focusing on the task at hand but just as likely thinking about their girlfriends or their cars or what they were planning for lunch on Saturday.

The scene that greeted the buses at the stadium was anything but typical.

Brock had expected to be met by news crews and reporters but no one could have predicted the number of people waiting outside the field for the team to debark.

“You’re right behind me,” Coach Jefferson told Brock. “I wouldn’t speak to the reporters but if you see someone you want to say hi to, go ahead.”

Brock looked up grimly.

“I’ve got nothing to say to these people,” he replied.

Brock followed Coach Jefferson through the gauntlet, eyes forward, face expressionless.

He saw familiar faces on the periphery; he heard familiar voices coming from the crowd.

“We’re sorry, Jordan,” one voice claimed.

“We love you, JD,” another rang out.

But Brock didn’t falter--until he almost had reached the locker room entrance. There they stood, side by side: Tara Wyatt, his first girlfriend, the girl who was the first of many to desert him, shoulder to shoulder with The Girl Who Ran Away, the one person who had the ability to stop his nightmare before it began.

Tara tried to touch Brock’s arm as he walked past but he jerked away as if shocked.

“Please, Jordan,” Tara said in a strangled tone. “Please, I just need to talk to you for a minute. I just want to say I’m sorry.”

Brock clenched his jaw and felt rage course through his body. Then he felt Bill’s arm around his shoulder urging him forward.

“C’mon, B,” Bill said loudly. “These folks had two years to apologize. Don’t waste your time on them now. These fuckers couldn’t break you no matter how many lies they told.”

Out of the corner of his eye Brock saw The Girl Who Ran Away recoil as if slapped.

“I should have let them have you, Suzy,” he thought. “I should have left you to fend for yourself with those animals the same way you left me to fend for myself.”

But he said nothing and simply headed into the locker room.

If the scene outside the stadium was atypical, the scene inside was surreal.

His teammates had witnessed the mayhem outside and, after a quick huddle, the seniors asked Coach Jefferson to appoint Brock as offensive captain for the game.

“We’re proud to have you on our team,” Jeff Adams, last year’s quarterback, told him. “We want everyone here to know what they’ve lost when they did what they did.”

Brock reluctantly accepted the honor. But the surprises weren’t close to being finished.

As the teams lined up for the national anthem, a voice on the loud speaker directed everyone’s attention to midfield where a man stood. Brock recognized him as the school principal.

“We have a special presentation to make,” the voice on the speakers said. “Two years ago, a young man led the Lafayette football team to heights it had never before reached. Anyone who remembers that team knows what a special player this young man was. Through no fault of his own, this young man was unable to attend our end of the season banquet. You all know the story and this isn’t the time to recount it again.

“But we’d like Brock Miller to come forward to receive the letterman’s jacket he earned two years ago. We remember him as Jordan DeVoe. It is the hope of Lafayette High School that this small gesture can be the start of healing the rift between this young man and our community.”

Brock glanced at Coach Jefferson who motioned with his head for Brock to go out and accept the jacket.

“I’m sorry, son,” the principal told him as he reached midfield.

Brock muttered an insincere thanks and walked back to the sideline. Everyone on the Corbly side could see the look of cold fury on his face as he walked past the team and motioned for Mel to come to get his gift.

“Fucking idiot,” he hissed as he handed Mel the jacket. “Heal the rift. Fuck him and fuck this whole town.”

By the time the whistle sounded to end the game the Lafayette fans had a better idea of just exactly how pissed out their gesture had made not only Brock but Coach Jefferson as well.

Ahead by 35 points in the fourth quarter, Jefferson had Brock throwing the ball all over the field. When he finally took him out of the game with less than two minutes to play the entire Corbly side of the field gave him a standing ovation. As the game ended, Brock dispensed with the usual post-game handshakes and headed straight to the locker room, muttering the whole way.

The first sight to meet Brock when he headed for the bus was Leslie, Jenny and Mel standing outside the locker room with giant smiles on their faces.

The second sight was Tara and Suzy standing right outside the door.

“Jordan, please wait,” Suzy said. “I didn’t know. You have to believe me.”

“Fuck you, Suzy,” he said. “And fuck you, Tara. And fuck anyone who lives in the shithole town.”

He glanced up to see the three Miles ladies moving swiftly in his direction and shook his head toward them.

He met the three of them with hugs a few feet away from where Suzy and Tara stood slack-jawed.

“I’m getting on the bus,” he said. “The sooner I’m away from here the happier I’ll be.”

Jenny asked Brock if he wanted his new jacket and the look he gave her almost froze the blood in her veins.

“I was trying to lighten the mood,” she said sadly. “I can’t seem to do much right when it comes to you.”

Brock smiled and wrapped his arms around her.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “My emotions are a little raw today, as you might have noticed. Hold onto the jacket for me. I don’t want it right now but I might at some point when I put all this behind me. Tonight was a good start for that. I think I made a pretty clear statement about what I think of these people. And I’ll make a clearer statement on December first when I force the county to admit culpability before I settle the lawsuit. I’ll see you guys back at your house. Drive safely.”

It was after 2 a.m. when the Corbly buses finally pulled into the school and it was almost 3 before Brock finally pulled into his driveway. He was relieved to see his front porch empty, but a small part of him didn’t want to be alone.

The small part got its wish when Jenny walked out of her house as he came up on his porch.

“Are you tired?” she asked. “If you’re not, I’d like to visit for a while.”

Brock was tired.

“I think I’m emotionally drained,” he told the girl. “Can you give me a little time to recharge my batteries, maybe come back tomorrow afternoon--or, hell, this afternoon, I guess.”

Jenny put her arm around Brock’s shoulder.

“Sure,” she told him. “I wasn’t sure if you would want company or if you’d just want some time alone with your thoughts.”

Brock smiled ruefully.

“I’m not sure myself,” he replied. “It’s been a very long couple of weeks. Tonight was almost anticlimactic. I wasn’t sure how I’d feel about seeing some of the people. I really expected to be madder. But only a couple of people really pissed me off.”

Jenny nodded.

“About that,” she said. “Those girls outside the locker room, who were they?”

“I was the girl who put him in prison,” a voice answered from the night. “I was the girl those boys tried to rape.”

Brock and Jenny both jumped at the voice and turned to where a girl stood by the side of the porch.

“Fuck and holy shit,” Brock exclaimed. “What in the hell are you doing here? Of all fucking people you have the nerve to show up at my house? Did you bring Tara with you? You two and Jenny should get together to compare notes. I’m sure if you put your heads together you can find another way to screw up my life.”

Jenny looked hurt but the girl just looked at the ground.

“Jenny, meet Suzy Simpson,” Brock said. “The other girl was Tara Wyatt. She was the girlfriend who deserted me when I was wrongly accused. Of course, Suzy is the girl who made sure the accusations stuck.

“Suzy, this is Jenny Miles. She is the girl who dumped me because I’m not exciting enough for her then threatened to call the cops when I tried to explain about what you did to me.”

Brock noticed both girls were crying. He suddenly felt much better. If he was going to be miserable, at least he could share the wealth.

“Jordan, I swear to God,” Suzy said sadly. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know about any of it until after you were out.”

Brock snickered.

“What, you think aliens came and snatched me up?” he asked. “Sure, a couple of guys in prison tried to give me an anal probe the old fashioned way, but no little green men. Did you think it was a coincidence that I disappeared from school that Monday? Did you hide under a rock and miss everyone from the mayor to my kindergarten teacher tell anyone who’d listen how big a shit I was? C’mon, Suzy, which is it?”

Jenny touched his arm.

“Brock, maybe you should hear her out before you jump to conclusions,” she said.

Brock rolled his eyes.

“Oh, the irony,” he said. “Look who’s talking about jumping to conclusions. It would be hilarious if it weren’t so God damned sad.”

Something in Jenny snapped.

“OK, I get it,” she hissed. “I’m a miserable fucking human being. I confess. I fucked up. I did something extremely stupid--a bunch of things really stupid--and I’ve regretted it since about two minutes after I did them. But every time I’d try to do something about them you’d throw the last stupid thing I did back in my face. I hurt you. I understand. But eventually you’ve got to get over it and forgive me.”

“You don’t come close to getting it,” Brock rejoined. “Not even close. I trusted you. I don’t trust anyone, but I let you in. You were the only person in this world capable of hurting me. And you did just that. Every time I think I’m moving past it, you do or say something that reminds me. So I don’t think I’ll be forgiving you any time some. Nor will I be forgiving you anytime soon, Suzy. And you can pass along to Tara that she’s in the same boat as you and Jenny.”

Brock started to unlock his door but Suzy stopped him.

“I got home that day, Jordan or Brock or whatever you call yourself today,” she said loudly, emboldened by Jenny’s outburst. “I told my Dad what happened. He sent me up to my room and told me he’d call the police. A half hour later we were on the road to Vegas. We stayed at my aunt’s for a week. A cop from Wilkins came and took my statement. I told them exactly what happened.”

“Exactly what happened,” she repeated. “A day later, my Mom told me she had a surprise for me, to help me get over what almost happened to me and what I’d seen you do to those guys. She told me that as a Christmas present they had enrolled me in a school in Paris. You remember how much I loved France, right? But we were going early. I never set foot in Wilkins from the day it happened until five months ago.