“Good morning, Coach.” She glances over my shoulder, behind me, and motions someone inside.
“Coach,” West says, sinking in the chair next to me, his track pants swishing as he crosses his legs. He’s wearing his white pressed polo, and sneakers, and sweat pearls on his forehead.
“You work out before class?” I ask, because I’ve never seen him sweaty and out of breath in the morning. In fact, West is one of the faculty that uses the boys weight room and locker room, and he usually does right as practice is ending.
He shoves his hand through his hair, twisting to look at me. He’s a little pale, and there are bags under his eyes that aren’t normally there. “Coming down with something maybe, thought some exercise could help clear the cobwebs, scare the virus away.”
West is also one ofthoseguys. The type of guy who thinks a long run is gonna chase a flu, whereas I’d rather try a cold beer because let’s face it, neither of those things are gonna beat a flu and a beer just feels way better.
He looks away somewhat quickly, then glances at his phone before shoving it back into his pocket. He’s preoccupied, and he’s been that way for a few weeks, and I’m not sure I’m buying his “run off the virus” bullshit, even if that's typically who he is. Today it doesn’t feel genuine. But you don’t push your buddy to spill his guts in front of your mutual boss, so I just nod my head. “Hope it helps. There’s some hot tea at Goode’s that does wonders for a sore throat. I think it has steamed lemonade in it.”
He nods. “Thanks, man.”
I look between them then because of the silence that falls between the three of us.
“I’m gonna make an educated guess that because no one is jumping out with good news, it’s bad news.” I tip my head back and scratch at my forehead in the spot that always feels itchy when I’m irritated.
West sighs. “Three thousand dollars for one game was just… beyond conceivable to them. They said the best they’d do is a ten dollar stipend per player.”
My mind catches on the word player. “What about the cheerleaders?”
Leah takes the glasses from the top of her head and tosses them onto the pile of folders on her desk. “Just the football players would get the stipend.”
I shake my head. “No. The girls are out there cheering on that field under those lights in all conditions the same way the boys are out there playing,” I start, a coil of unused energy unspooling inside me. “And aten dollar stipend? What’s ten dollars gonna do? What, they all gonna put their ten together and buy some pizzas, Leah?”
“I know,” she sighs, just as frustrated and disgruntled as I am. And she is. It’s not bullshit. She’s as concerned about an accident on that road one of these years as I am.
“They said it’s for a meal. That we take the boys out after the game for a meal, to buy time for the traffic to die, then the road home is safer.” West shrugs because he knows, despite being a Bluebell import and new to his job in the last few years, that the concern isn’t about traffic. “I’m sorry Dean. We tried. We tried, we argued, and I’m pretty sure neither of us are getting promotions ever again.”
Leah nods. “True story. I’m pretty sure I just pissed away Superintendent but…” she shrugs. “Worth it. Because you’re right, Dean. That road is dangerous and someone is going to get hurt or worse.”
I shake my head, unwilling to put the kids at risk. “Parents don’t let their kids play football and become cheerleaders to put their lives at risk because the school district is more concerned with money than safety.”
“I know,” West says, bobbing his head as his knee begins to bounce. Maybe he’s more concerned about this issue than I gave him credit for?
I get to my feet and adjust my hat on my head. Lucky shirt be damned. “I’ll pay for the rooms. For everyone. I’ll get them all booked this weekend. West, can we get a waiver to the parents for permission for them to stay?” I look at Leah. “Don’t tell me I can’t do this, Leah. This is what’s right. I’m paying for the rooms.”
She smiles, a little sad, a little proud. “Okay. You can pay for the rooms. I’ll get Denae to draw up a release and liability form and a permission slip.” She clicks around on her computer. “It’s going to be at least three thousand dollars, Dean, even with a room rate. Are you?—”
What else do I have to spend my money on? “I want to keep my students safe, Leah, and if the school board doesn’t care, then I’ll do it out of my own pocket.”
I look between them, making a split decision. “Don’t tell anyone I’m footing the bill. Let people think the district came through.”
“You’re really gonna let those assholes get the credit?” Leah asks, folding her arms over her buttery blouse. She shakes her head. “I can call my guy at the Leader. We can run a whole story about it. How the district denied the school safety, then the varsity football coach came through, a beacon in the storm, a voice of reason in the insanity, a wallet in the cheapness–”
I stop her there, smirking as I place my palm out. “No, no.”
She laughs and West smirks. “I’m joking but I’m also serious.” She sits up, letting her chair snap against her spine. “Good press for you, Dean. Are you sure?”
I don’t need people to know I paid. I don’t want credit for anything. I just want the kids to be safe and taken care of when they’re out there for us, for Bluebell High. It’s what’s right. “I’m sure.” I tip my hat to both of them, eager to get out of this office and walk off the frustration.
I don’t care about paying. Like I said, what else do I have to spend my money on? I’m just disappointed that pool tiles and chlorine systems are more important than kids. No hate on swimming, either. If the swimmers were making this trek, and the board decided on pads and helmets instead of safe housing for one night to eliminate risk, I’d be on their side, too.
After greeting my first class, hearing about how Damon Winchester’s dad fell off a ladder and broke his arm this weekend while cleaning the gutter, learning how Sara Larson got stung by a bee when she stepped on it near her pool, and how Max Pierson is currently grounded for what his mom found in his search history on the family computer, my spirits are lifted. I love spending the first few minutes of class letting the kids tell me and each other things that are clearly important to them after the weekend. My mood shifts, and I put my irritation with the school board out of my mind, and enjoy the day with students.
Practices without Tanner just aren’t the same. I have my second string quarterback running things, but it’s different. Sure, he’s a good player and a talented quarterback, but with Tanner, everything between him and the other players is just so natural. So effortless. It’s the sign of a born athletic leader, the way he has field presence and an air of command.
While the boys are running 10-yard sprint drills, my phone rings, and the sun is so glaring, I can’t make out the caller ID on screen. “Hello?”
