Eight
When Landon got home from Cooper’s, he waited until about nine, then dug out the school roster he had for chem lab and dialed Eve’s cell phone. He’d never called her before. He never would’ve had the stones to call her for anything but chemistry if Cooper hadn’t said something about how his job was to keep her safe. He dreaded this, but fair was fair.
She answered sleepily. “Hullo?”
“Oh, hi. It’s Landon. Damn, did I wake you up?”
“Hmm, no, but I was reading history, which to me is as good as taking a nap. What’s up, Landon?”
“Well...I have to talk to you about something. About the dance. We might have a problem...”
“Oh, no!” she said, suddenly alert. “You’re going to hurt my feelings now, aren’t you? You changed your mind?”
“No! No way. But listen...” He paused and scratched his head. “Eve, I don’t want to make a big deal out of this, but I should tell you something. Something about Jag.”
“What? That he’s an ass?”
Landon couldn’t help it, he laughed. “Yeah, there’s that. And also, he’s not exactly happy with me these days.”
To his surprise, now she laughed. “Landon, he’s not going to be happy with anyone who can play football.”
“Huh?”
“He really thought, being a senior, this was supposed to automatically be his year to rule. He’d be mad at anyone who did better than him. Ignore him, he’s a loser.”
“Huh,” he said again, but this time it wasn’t a question. “Thing is, he’s a lot worse than not friendly. It’s like he’s gunning for me, y’know? It’s pretty hard to ignore someone who slams you into the lockers whenever he gets a chance.”
“Seriously? Landon, you can’t let him do that!”
“He doesn’t usually travel alone, Eve. He’s got a pack.”
She made a growling sound. “And I know exactly who they are, too. Sinclair, Wormitz and Pickering. All losers. You should tell someone. Like the coach, maybe.”
He rubbed a hand through his hair. “I think it’s different with girls, Eve. You know what it makes a guy look like if he can’t handle it? I don’t want to tell anyone, I want to handle it. He flies under the radar. He always manages to catch me at least semi-alone.”
“Because he’s a sneak and a liar. Want me to tell someone?”
“No! No. Listen, I only wanted to tell you because you and me, at the dance, it’s going to look to Jag like he lost one more thing to me. And I don’t want anything bad to happen to you. I don’t want him to even call you a name. You might want to rethink this idea of us going together.”
“Oh, I will. In fact, I just gave it a big rethink. Ashley asked me to double with her and her boyfriend and I thought no. I didn’t want to throw you into the deep end with people you barely know. But now maybe yes is a better idea. You haven’t been here long enough to get to know Ash’s boyfriend—he graduated last year. Crawford Downy. He just goes by Downy.”
He was silent for a moment. Thunder Point was proud of its football stars. Their pictures and trophies were displayed in the school’s hallways. “Isn’t he at State?”
“Yep. But he’s crazy about Ash and doesn’t like her to miss all the important high school things, and he sure doesn’t want her going with anyone else. Anyway, he’s all-conference alumni—he’ll be back for the game. He’s a very nice guy. And he’s also a big guy, very big.”
“Whoa.”
“So if it’s not a problem for you, we’ll double. Not for me,” she said. “Jag wouldn’t dare give me trouble. I’m not new here anymore, I have plenty of friends, plus there’s my dad... He’s not going to bother me. And he better not give you any more trouble. He’s such a creep.”
“Whoa,” Landon said again. “But listen, if you could somehow manage not to spread around that I was crying about getting picked on...”
“Landon, I wouldn’t do that.”
“It’s just that it’s kind of humiliating to have your girlfriend running interference...” When the words were out of his mouth, he cringed and hit himself in the forehead with the heel of his hand. He ground his teeth and listened to the long silence.
“Am I your girlfriend?” she asked softly.
“Well, that position is definitely still open....”
She laughed at him. “Where do I apply?”
“You can apply right now if you’re any good at chemistry. It’s really kicking my ass.”
“You’re better than I am. Didn’t you get an A on the last test?”
“I have to get A’s or my sister will finish the ass-kicking job.”
“We should hook up your sister and my dad. He needs a woman in his life to get him out of mine and Aunt Lou’s. We’re getting kind of tired of his hypervigilance.”
Landon kicked off his shoes and lay down on the couch with his phone to his ear. Ham settled in on the floor beside him. “Is that a fact?” he asked. “Be patient. Sarah got a divorce less than a year ago. She wants all men killed. All except me—I still get a pass.”
They talked like that for an hour, about their families, about school, about moving to a new town and settling in. Landon hadn’t done much of this kind of late-night, long talking on the phone to a girl. He’d never been shy, but he’d always been a little uncertain around girls. He just couldn’t believe they liked him. Athletically, he was confident; academically, not so much, but he was willing to put all his muscle into schoolwork. He had to. The only way he was going to go to college was on scholarship. But girls? There, his confidence failed him.
Eve McCain was easily the prettiest, smartest, best girl in school. They were in three classes together and he’d been watching her since school started, admiring everything about her. But even though they’d talked, he hadn’t approached her. He was friendly, he was helpful, but he’d been through too much lately and couldn’t handle rejection. He hadn’t had a date yet in his life, unless you counted gang dates for pizza or parties after games, and that was at his old school in North Bend, where he’d also been the new kid. He’d been invited to join “the crowd” at the Thunder Point beach, but given Morrison would be there, he’d made excuses and never went.
So after a rocky few months, this felt brand-new. And very sexy.
* * *
School let out early on Friday for the homecoming festivities, but not before a student assembly for the coronation. Since attendance wasn’t required, the kids who didn’t want to be involved in school activities skipped out. Landon considered leaving, but in the end, he was curious. He tucked himself into the back of the auditorium and watched.
There was a lot of pomp; the cheerleaders performed—minus the one cheerleader who was a homecoming queen candidate—the principal spoke, the football coach revved them up. Then the band played while the candidates walked down the auditorium aisles to the stage. They were all dressed up in formal gowns and nice suits. On the stage, they met, touched hands, gave a brief bow to the assemblage, separated and stood in a line of four girls and four boys. They would all ride in the parade later. After that, the football players would race into the locker room and dress for the game tonight.
Finally the results of the vote were announced. Stacy Kraemer and Justin Moore were crowned by last year’s royalty. Justin Moore? Not Jag? There was a part of him that thought, Karma’s a bitch, man. But another part of him knew that Jag Morrison would be in an even worse mood tonight. He’d been pretty cocky about this whole king business. It was customary to crown the football captain—unless he was an ass who not too many people liked. Justin was a tight end and good at his job; he didn’t hang with Jag.
Straight after the coronation was the parade setup. Each class had made a float. It wasn’t the Rose Bowl parade, but as floats went they weren’t too bad. Since only seniors could be nominated for homecoming king and queen, their class always got the float that bore the thrones. Justin and Stacy took their places, ready for the parade to begin. The juniors had a papier-mâché cougar on their float; the sophomores celebrated the harvest with a football player in its midst; and the freshmen paid tribute to the fishing industry with the bow of a boat and a papier-mâché marlin, even though you’d never catch a marlin this far north off the Pacific coast.
The band led the floats down Thunder Point’s main street and they made two loops on the track around the football field. When the parade reached the track, Justin Moore jumped off the seniors’ float to go dress out for the game. There was a lot of noise, laughter and trash talk in the locker room and Landon acknowledged that maybe, just maybe, Jag Morrison wasn’t king of the school, just the prince of a very small clique. That was somehow a little less intimidating. Finally, as the band played the school song, the team burst through a paper sign stretched across the goalpost to the cheers of the crowd.
Landon didn’t have high expectations for the homecoming game. They’d beat Stafford High before and they weren’t a strong team. Good for homecoming and good for Jag. As Landon had expected, Coach Rayborough started Jag in the game. Landon didn’t mind staying on the sidelines, watching the game and other things. He caught sight of Cooper standing at the end of the bleachers for a while in the beginning, then he disappeared. He recognized Crawford Downy from his picture in the school’s trophy case. Downy was knocking fists with old friends, talking with the coach as if he was assisting.
But the game went downhill. Jag fumbled. He threw two incomplete passes and then he threw an interception and Stafford scored. The coach brought him in, talked to him, knocked him on the helmet, sent him back. Fumble, fumble, Stafford recovered the ball and ran it. Not too far, but they were clearly headed for another touchdown. Thunder’s defense rallied, got the ball and Jag threw another incomplete pass. The score was 7–0 Stafford. Coach wouldn’t want to get to halftime behind.
“Dupre!”
He was being brought in. Landon jogged over to the coach, got his instructions and went onto the field. He recovered the ball from Stafford. He went into the huddle, called the play, received the ball. He backed away from Stafford’s offense and made a perfect pass that landed them within running distance of a touchdown. When he next got the ball, he passed to a wide receiver and Thunder scored. The crowd went wild. Even though he hadn’t run the ball, they chanted his name, along with the wide receiver’s. But the attention wasn’t as much fun as executing the play—making it happen, getting a win. Landon just plain loved the game. He could feel the pressure and excitement of that down to his toes. By the half, they had Stafford by three points.
Landon figured the coach would pull him now and let Jag have another shot, but he didn’t. In fact, he didn’t let Jag play again until the end of the game, when they had Stafford by fourteen points and there wasn’t much time left. Jag tried valiantly to score and failed, but at least he didn’t give the ball to Stafford.
During a time-out, Eve crept over to where he stood on the sidelines with the team and whispered that they were still decorating the gym for tomorrow night’s dance, if he wanted to help. He told her he’d be there after the game.
When the game ended, Thunder High had a big win and were rewarded by screaming, thumping, yelling noises from the stands. Landon got a lot of fist bumps and slaps on the back, and he congratulated his teammates, too. He noticed that Jag was morose, lagging behind the team, but he ordered himself to ignore him as they jogged off the field and into the locker room.
He’d barely gotten his shoes off when the coach called him to his office. He stepped into the small room with a glass window to the lockers to find Downy leaning one hip against Coach’s desk.
“Here he is, Downy. Meet Landon Dupre. Landon, this is Crawford Downy. He took us all the way to the state play-offs last year.”
Downy put out his hand. “We had a good team. Nice to meet you, Dupre. Good job out there.”
“Hey, thanks,” Landon said, taking his hand. “I’m sorry I never got to see you play.”
“Maybe you’ll end up at State and we’ll play together.”
“How did you end up at State?” Landon asked.
“Scholarship. State wasn’t the only option, though,” Downy said.
They talked a little bit about Oregon State’s record, about the fact that Landon was hoping for some help with college tuition, about double-dating for the dance. Downy continued, “Anyway, we have lots of time to talk about college life this weekend. I got sucked into decorating tonight, because that’s where Ashley’s going to be.”
“Then I’ll see you there. I was recruited by Eve.”
They shook hands again. By the time Landon got back to the locker room, most of the team was either dressing or exiting the showers. In the coach’s office, he could see Downy. He looked completely at home, still leaning on the desk, laughing with his old coach while Coach Rayborough leaned back in his chair.
Landon stripped down, wrapped a towel around his waist and headed for the showers. From his office, the coach could see the locker area; the coach’s office was a no-female zone while guys were dressing. The shower area and the latrines were out of sight. The last three guys, toweling off and laughing, exited the shower just as Landon was going in.
“Great game, Dupre!”
“Show us the Thunder, Dupre!”
He just smiled and went about his business. He was planning to make it fast. Eve was in his very near future. He was lathered up, his hair loaded with suds, when he heard his name. “Dupre.”
He pried open one eye and peered at Jag Morrison, leaning in the doorway to the showers. He was fully dressed in pleated pants, thin-soled brown shoes and a navy sweater. The sleeves were shoved up on his forearms to show off his gold watch. His hands were in his pants pockets, one leg crossed over the other. He was a damn GQ ad.
“What?” Landon asked. “Little busy here.” He let the spray hit him, rinsing off much of the dripping soap.
“No one likes a wise guy, Dupre. Don’t think you can come here and just take over. I told you, this is my turf.”
Landon wiped a hand down his face. “Where’s your posse, Morrison? You don’t usually come at me alone. I figure you’re afraid I’ll wipe up the floor with you.”
Jag took a step into the shower room. “In your dreams. I just stopped by to tell you your party is about over here.”
Landon laughed at him. “Is that so? Kind of looks more like your party already ended. Now get out of here, unless you’re only here to view some naked male.” Then he turned, presented his back and leaned into the shower. After a few seconds he looked over his shoulder and sighed in relief. Morrison was gone.
Both palms braced against the wall, Landon let the hot water wash over his head and down his face. He’d never spoken a word to Morrison before the trouble began. A couple of practices before school started had revealed Landon to be the stronger quarterback and that was all it took. Don’t think you’re going to start the game, Dupre. This is my team. That first threat had worked out pretty well for Jag—Landon hadn’t started. The coach gave Jag every opportunity and only put Landon in when Jag couldn’t carry or pass the ball. But he couldn’t keep him out all the time, and it wasn’t long before Jag told Landon to trip and drop the ball. When that didn’t work, Jag and his gang of three started delivering their physical threats—a slug, a shove, an attempted trip. That night under the bleachers had been the worst episode. Cooper had saved his ass, but he’d got the message: they’d hold him down to beat him up.
“Dupre.”
He turned suddenly and just as suddenly an elbow or a bat or whatever it was slammed the side of his head into the hard tiles. The shower handle hit him in the ribs. On the way down, as he scrambled for something to grip, the lever hit him in the face.
Then it was lights-out.
* * *
“He’s a damn fine ball player,” Coach Rayborough was telling Downy. “But he’s having a little trouble fitting in.”
“That’ll pass, if he’s a good guy,” Downy said.
“That’s what I think. He works hard, never misses a practice, plays his heart out, supports his teammates...”
“How about grades?”
“Never had a problem with his grades,” Coach said. “Not like some of the seniors on the team, who are hanging on by the hair on their teeth.” He looked through the window into the quiet locker room. Everyone was gone, even the trainers. “Let’s shut ’er down.”
“Good idea,” Downy said. “I’ve gotta go string lights and blow up balloons tonight. If I play my cards right, it could all end in a date.”
They were laughing as they exited the office. Before turning off the lights, the coach looked into the locker room. There were a few wet towels strewn over benches. “Someone forgot to close his locker,” he muttered, walking toward the open locker.
The dawning came slowly—the locker was not only open, the player’s clothes were inside, the duffel holding his football uniform and gear sitting on the floor, shoes under the bench, shower running...
“Hey!” he yelled. “Somebody in there?”
No answer. Coach Rayborough walked toward the showers. It wouldn’t be the first time some idiot left the water running. They get a little hyper after a—
“Downy! Call nine-one-one!”
* * *
The coach shut off the shower and knelt beside Landon. The second he lifted the kid’s head, Landon started to groan. His head lolled.
“Jesus, Dupre, what the hell? You pass out?”
“He didn’t pass out,” Downy said from the door. “EMTs are on the way.”
Landon tried to sit up, moaning.
“Stay down, Dupre,” the coach said. “What the hell happened?”
But Landon kept struggling to get up, his arm flailing.
“Coach.” Downy grabbed the towel off the hook by the shower and tossed it at him. “Cover him up. He didn’t pass out. He got jumped in the showers. Who did it, Landon?”
Landon just groaned and reached a wet hand toward his face. His jaw was already starting to swell and his lip was bleeding. He could feel the goose egg rising on his forehead.
Downy crouched. “Tell me before the EMTs and cops get here.”
“Cops?”
“Landon, this asshole is not getting away with this,” Downy said. “Was it Morrison?”
“Morrison?” the coach asked, clearly astonished.
“He’s a prick, Coach,” Downy said. “I’ve been watching him knock kids around since the fourth grade. He gave my little brother some trouble until I stepped in.”
“Morrison?” the coach asked again. “I never saw that in him!”
Downy looked at him. “Of course you didn’t,” Downy said. “Trust me. Was it Morrison?” he asked Landon again.
And Landon nodded weakly. His vision had cleared and he was thinking straight, though he had one hell of a headache. He could pretend that a powerful whack on the head caused him to weaken in front of the coach and Downy, spilling Morrison’s name. But that wasn’t it at all. He’d had enough. So, the guy had been doing this to anyone he perceived weaker since he was a little kid? Big surprise. Time for him to be stopped.
“It was Morrison,” Landon said. “This wasn’t the first time. He had his boys hold me so he could punch me out once. And he ordered me to throw a game so I’d look bad and he could play. Said it was his team. His school.”
The coach’s eyes grew narrow and steely. News about a less-than-loyal player got to him the worst. Downy stood slowly, went into the locker room and grabbed a stack of towels. He propped one under Landon’s head and used a few more to cover his shivering body. “Stay calm. They’ll be here pretty quick and they have blankets. Who do we call for you?”
“My sister. Sarah. She’s in my phone. My locker.”
“Got it.”
“You’re going to be okay, Dupre,” the coach said. “You seeing double or anything?” Landon shook his head. “That’s a good sign. You have to stay down. In case there’s something wrong with your back.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my back, but I bit the hell out of my tongue. Do I have all my teeth? Because my words don’t sound right.”
“Looks like it. Salsa-free diet for a week or so, though. I’m going to get an ice pack for that lump on your head.”
“Aw, God,” Landon said with a shiver. “Ice.”
“I’ll make this right, Dupre,” the coach said. “You should’ve just told me.”
“What for?” Landon asked. “You still can’t believe it. You only believe it because Downy told you.”
He was quiet for a minute before he said, “All that just changed, son.”