Page 89 of Ancient History

Later didn’t comeuntil night, after a hellstorm of an afternoon.

Tommy came to me in tears, ripped up about not being able to play. I spent practice consoling him, giving him pep talks about how this was a speed bump in life.

But it didn’t matter. He was devastated. He knew he wasn’t the best student, but soccer made him come alive. I understood completely how crushing it was not to be able to play the sport that was in your blood.

Practice was a mess. The boys were sluggish and distracted.

Word had gotten out that Tommy wasn’t able to play. Other players’ parents called me freaking out about our chances of advancing to regionals and state. The gossip in school quickly turned negative, which dragged down team morale. We were so close, and this threw a wrench into everything we’d been working toward as a team. I couldn’t let the bad buzz get in my players’ heads or else we were goners.

After practice ended, I thought I could relax, until Chris Bergstrom showed up in my office. He was the director for all athletics programs in the Sourwood school district, technically my boss. A former lacrosse player, he was in his forties with a trim build and close-cropped blond hair that had some stealth gray sprinkled in there.

“Hutch. Good to see you. Have a seat.”

It was never a good sign when somebody asked you to have a seat in your own office. I sat behind my desk, but didn’t feel like the more powerful one. Bergstrom shut the door.

“What’s going on with this Tommy Alvarez situation? Is he really suspended from playing?”

“According to the school’s zero tolerance policy.”

“I tried getting Aguilar to make an exception, but he wouldn’t. We are this close to the championship. Our hopes lie with the hearing on Thursday. I got it moved up so Tommy could still play. I want you to attend.”

“Me?”

“You can speak in support of Tommy, talk about what a conscientious player he is, how this teacher is being severe and unfair.”

“He’s not. Amos–Mr. Bright is a very fair teacher. He says that Tommy cheated.”

Bergstrom see-sawed his head.

“Let him defend his actions. What we need from you is to talk about the Tommy you know, the one who made a tiny mistake and deserves to play. You can speak to the unique stress student players are under, which will show how unreasonable this teacher is being.”

The whole thing didn’t sit right with me. Not one bit. Did Amos know what kind of defense Tommy was preparing?

“I don’t think he’s being unreasonable. All my other players are passing. And Mr. Bright is a good teacher.”

Bergstrom was losing patience. “Hutch, whose side are you on? We have a pathway to the state championship. That will go a long way toward you staying on next year, maybe becoming a staff teacher in the future. Remember, you’re here on a trial run.”

He stood up, narrowed his eyes at me with a matching bitter smile, letting me know that he wasn’t bluffing. “Be a team player, Hutch.”

* * *

By the timeI had a moment to myself, it was early evening. The striking pink sky was one highlight. I beelined to the vending machine in the faculty lounge for the biggest bag of overpriced chips they sold. I gobbled them down in three seconds.

I took an Uber to Amos’s condo that night. I had to see how he was doing, and I needed to feel him in my arms to believe that things would be fine.

“Hey,” I said after knocking. His eyes lit up with such hope when he saw me, which made me wonder how his afternoon had gone.

Amos got up and grabbed me in a hug. It was the tight hug of someone who needed it. I pulled him to me, giving him the support and warmth he craved.

“Today was a day, huh?” I said, hoping to inject levity.

He groaned into my chest.

I followed him to the couch. He sat on the edge of his seat, still poised and on high alert.

“I’m not a smoker, but if there was any day for me to start…” He brushed a hand through his hair and heaved out a sigh. “Hutch, please know I didn’t do this out of spite toward the team or Tommy.”

“I know that. Of course I do.”

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