Chapter 47 – Wesley

I can’t believe I’ve been called into Coach Thompson’s office again.

Last time this happened, it wasn’t good. I’m hoping he might just want to call me out for being in fantasy land during practice. There can’t possibly be any more bad news, since I’ve been studying my ass off and walking the straight and narrow.

Taylor had found me a new tutor after the one she’d set up to test me with obviously hadn’t worked out. She’d told me she was sorry for not believing me but that she was glad I’d passed her test because a big part of her had always thought that Chelsea and I made a great couple.

But by then it was too late, as Chelsea was fed up with both of us. Hopefully our plan to win Chelsea back will work.

I can’t get with Chelsea until I convince her I’m not the monster she thinks I am. Which I have a plan for. It just takes time, and patience. And not being hassled any further by her father.

In the meantime, I’ve been studying my ass off and not missing a minute of class.

“Come on in,” Coach Thompson says, as soon as I knock on his office door.

“Hi Coach,” I say, rather nervously, sitting back down in what I’ve come to consider the “hot seat” on the other side of his desk

“Wesley. Thanks for coming in.”

Today he looks all business, but also kind of friendly— not menacing like he did the last time I was here.

“No problem, Coach. What’s up?”

“Well. A couple things. I got the result of your algebra re-test and you did very well.”

“Whew.”

I can’t help but exhale with relief. I was pretty sure I’d done well on it, but that’s what I’d thought the last time too. And, fuck, had I been wrong about that.

“Guess your new tutor is working out better for you than studying with Christian, huh?” Coach asks.

“Sure seems that way.”

“About that. It appears we have a problem on our hands.”

I look up at him, trying to decipher how serious this problem is. From the look on his face it’s a pretty big one.

“What is it, Coach?”

“I received an anonymous tip that there are drugs in your locker, and that you’d sold them to the cheerleader who overdosed.”

“What?” I practically spring up out of my chair. “Coach. That’s ridiculous. I did no such thing. I can explain about the former charge on my record…”

“I know,” Coach says, the creases in his forehead becoming even more prominent. “And there’s no need to explain.”

I look at him, dumbfounded.

“My daughter vouched for you. And while I’m not entirely pleased with why or how that may have come to pass, that’s good enough for me.”

“Chelsea… did what?”

I’m still confused.

“How did Chelsea even know about these allegations?” I ask, incredulous.

“I don’t know,” Coach Thompson responds, scratching his head. “I guess word gets around fast. And I’m sure that Christian Lewis is behind all of this.”

“Really?”

I feel like such an idiot. I knew that Christian had been acting strangely but I’d just chalked it up to good old fashioned jealously.

“Do you really think he’s capable of trying to sabotage me to this extent?”

Coach Thompson shrugs.

“Don’t know. But who else could it be? Seems to me he’s the only one who has shown any inclination or motivation to hurt you, and who knows how far he could take it?”

He scratches his chin before continuing.

“I’ve seen a dark side of him this season that I have to admit scares me. I don’t know what he’s capable of. But right now my main concern is figuring out what to do about this accusation.”

“Just ignore it?” I suggest. “Maybe once he figures out that nothing’s being done, he’ll escalate it and then we’ll have proof that it’s him behind it.”

“I thought about that,” Coach Thompson admits. “But the next logical step would be for him to go to the administration. And if the administration hears the allegations and finds out that I knew about them, they’re going to wonder why I didn’t fill them in. And there goes our agreement. They won’t let me let you play if I don’t stay on the up and up myself.”

“Yeah.”

I sink back into the “hot seat,” which would be burning my ass up right now if it were literally hot. That’s how much of a pickle we’re in.

“So now what?”

“I think I’m going to have to tell them what’s been alleged and that I don’t believe it,” Coach Thompson says. “But that means throwing Christian under the bus. And to tell you the truth, I’m afraid that if he escalates this, it won’t be something rational, like reporting to the administration.”

I nod, in full agreement.

“Nothing he’s been doing has been very logical,” the coach continues. “If he’s resorted to planting drugs to try to frame you and even that doesn’t work, then I don’t know what he’ll try to do to you next. At this point I have to look out for your safety here. I think that before I go to the administration, I somehow need to get ironclad proof…”

“Wait,” I interrupt, my heart racing faster than it does during an overtime pass. The phrases “escalating” and “dark side of him” and “don’t know what he’ll try to do to you next” keep banging around inside my head. “Where is Christian?”

“I don’t know,” Coach Thompson shrugs. “I tried to find him to talk about all of this, until I thought better of that plan and decided to call you in instead. But he never came to my office, even though I’d put the word out for him to come, before I did the same for you.”

“The last time I saw him, he was leaving campus after you’d announced that you were going to the lake house with Chelsea. Where is Chelsea?”

Coach Thompson suddenly looks at worried as I feel.

“She headed to the lake house early,” he says meekly, his skin turning pale.

“We need to go, now.”

Already on our feet, we both head towards the door.

“We need to call Taylor on our way,” I tell Coach Thompson.

I hope Taylor and I can still execute our plan to win Chelsea back once we find her. I hope it’s not too late for Chelsea and I to be together the way I’m now sure we’re meant to be.