Once he started losing weight, his family realized how badly off he was and Reenie came to stay with him for a few weeks. She goaded him and challenged him—even physically wrestled with him on occasion—to get him to bounce back. When he finally started to respond, he let her believe it was because she’d made his life unbearable. But that wasn’t the truth. Life had already become unbearable. He let her help him because, for a while there, he’d needed her strength to prevent himself from sinking into the dark pit of depression.
Once he’d gotten a hold of himself, however, he’d gone in the opposite direction. Now he was almost militant about his daily hygiene, his fitness, the cleanliness of his house, his yard, his shop.
He frowned at his rumpled clothes. Until last night.
The phone rang again. Remembering the call from his father, he didn’t make any effort to answer.
A few seconds later, the machine picked up. “Gabe, where are you? I need to talk to you.”
Mike. It sounded serious.
“Give me a call when you get this—”
Gabe reached above his head for the cordless phone he kept on the side table. “What is it?” he said, but he wasn’t sure he really wanted to know. Ever since he’d agreed to coach the Spartans—ever since he’d started associating with people again—his emotions seemed so much more extreme than before. He felt excitement, stimulation, hope. He also felt discouragement, embarrassment, fear and despair.
He wasn’t sure the trade-off was worth it.
“I just got a call from Dale Lindley’s mother,” Mike said.
Dale was on the football team, but he wasn’t a good player. Unless the Spartans were winning by a wide margin, Gabe knew Dale probably wouldn’t play. Fortunately, the boy was happy just to wear the uniform, practice with the team, and help the coaches.
“What did she want?” he asked.
“Dale woke her up to tell her something he overheard in the locker room yesterday after practice.”
“This early?” Gabe glanced at the clock above his television. It was barely six.
“He didn’t sleep well.”
“Evidently not. What’s going on?”
“I guess Sly Reed was bragging to Tiger Shipley that he could predict the outcome of the game next Friday. He said the Spartans are going to lose.”
Gabe let his eyes drift closed again. “So? Sly’s a loudmouth.” And he wasn’t one of Gabe’s favorite players. Sly needed to be in the limelight and often did stupid things to get there. Coach Owens had mentioned that he’d been suspended last year for drinking at a school dance.
“Evidently, there’s a little more to it than that,” Mike said.
At this, Gabe opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling. “What more could there be?”
“He was willing to put a hundred bucks on it.”
“Sly’s dad is the school janitor. He doesn’t make a lot of money. Where would Sly get a hundred bucks?”
“Beats me.”
“How did Tiger respond?”
“He got mad and stormed out.”
Gabe covered his face with his arm. “Good for Tiger.”
“I’m not finished yet. After Tiger left, the twins cornered Sly in the locker room and warned him to keep his mouth shut. Then Dale heard them say Blaine would take it out of Sly’s hide if anyone found out.”
At the mention of Blaine’s name, Gabe shoved himself into a sitting position. “Blaine’s involved?”
“Looks that way.”
“You think he’s trying to sabotage the team?”
“What else could it be?”
Gabe pictured Blaine, with his bladelike nose and cool gray eyes. Did he want Gabe’s job badly enough to risk his reputation and his future at Dundee High? He’d built his career with the Spartans. Gabe couldn’t imagine him doing anything so blatantly wrong. Maybe he let his temper get the best of him on occasion. But what Mike was suggesting took planning and forethought and collusion with others. If word ever got out, the boys who were involved would be kicked off the team for good.
And Blaine would be fired….
Gabe shook his head. “Blaine’s feeling some resentment right now, but he wouldn’t take it that far.”
“Do you have another explanation?”
“Maybe it’s nothing. Sly’s always trying to stir the shit. You know how he is.”
“I know he’s related to Blaine. I know the twins are, too. If Blaine was going to split the loyalties of the team, he’d start there.”
Gabe used his hand to move one foot and then the other to the ground. “High school boys don’t give a damn about the politics involved in football on a coaching level. They just want to win.”
“They care about positions and play time and lettering,” Mike argued. “Who knows what Blaine might be promising them?”
Pulling his wheelchair closer to the couch, Gabe lifted himself into it so he could head to the bathroom. “Whatever this is, I’m not worried about it,” he said.
“You’re not?”
“No,” Gabe lied. “And you’re not my big brother, so quit trying to look after me, okay? You have enough to worry about over there at the ranch.”
Gabe heard Mike sigh. “Whatever you say, Coach.”
“I’ll talk to you later, Mike.” Gabe hoped he’d convinced his friend that he wasn’t going to think twice about it. But the situation remained on his mind through his shower, his breakfast and the long drive to town. He knew Blaine would feel pretty vindicated if the Spartans went into a slump. And he couldn’t help thinking how easy it’d be to throw a game—or two or three.
All it would take is the cooperation of a few key players.
AT EIGHT-FORTY-FIVE, Hannah poked her head into Kenny’s room to find him still in bed. Yesterday, he’d spent the entire day with Tuck and hadn’t come home until just minutes before his midnight curfew. She’d been waiting up for him, but she’d been exhausted and he’d been morose, so they’d gone straight to bed. She was hoping he’d feel better today, that maybe they’d finally have a chance to talk. “Kenny, your alarm went off over a half hour ago. You’re going to be late for practice if you don’t get up.”
No answer.
She sat next to him and shook his shoulder. “Kenny?”
“I don’t want to go to practice,” he mumbled.
Hannah blinked in surprise. “Practices are mandatory. You know that.”