High School Football – The Temptation (first in the high school series)

  “This backpack is heavy, Shar. I had to bring most of my books home, and I have to get caught up. What now?”

  “Mom’s inside. I think she’s crying. Justin, they cut her hours at the candy factory.”

  Justin slumped against the car. So much for omens. And … so much for the little red car. He was already a week behind in payments.

  “Justin, I been thinking. Yes, even I can do that sometimes, when I want to. I think I can get some work babysitting and help out with the money. I don’t think the people down the street get out much, and I know that they have little kids. I’m going to go talk with them, maybe tonight.”

  He lifted the backpack to the hood of the car and leaned on it. “Maybe they need their lawn mowed, too. You can ask them about it. Which house is it? I think I’ve pretty well covered this neighborhood, but you never know.”

  “Down this way, on the corner right side. Big yard.”

  Justin nodded. “I’ve seen a boy mowing it, but maybe he’ll be too busy to keep it up. And … well, it’s like this, Shar. I’m going to have some more time for about three weeks. I can’t practice or play until I get my grades up.”

  “Oh, Justin. What happened?”

  “I dunno. I guess I never got into gear when school started. The principal called me in today and said I was flunking three classes. Nice of the teachers to let me know, huh?”

  Sharice pursed her lips. “Maybe I’d better check on my grades when I get back. I don’t want to take seventh grade over again.”

  “I know what you mean. No way am I going to be a repeat. And the old high school diploma doesn’t take you very far. Especially in this town.” The image of old band members floated through his mind, and he grimaced.

  “I want to go to college, Justin, don’t you?”

  “Maybe. Trade school might be the ticket, though.”

  A screen door banged across the street. The two turned and waved at Mrs. Garrison, who waved and then started to sweep dead leaves off her sidewalk.

  “Shar, hold down the fort here. I’m going to see if she wants her yard cleaned up or something.”

  He skipped over a puddle of water at the edge of the road and stood just out of range of the swishing broom.

  “Hey, Mrs. Garrison. You want me to do that for you?”

  “Well, now, Justin, how do you expect me to get any exercise unless I sweep this walk off?”

  “Couldn’t say. Maybe making those especially delicious snickerdoodles?”

  She leaned on her broom and laughed. It was the first time he’d actually seen her do much more than flash a wan smile now and again.

  “Justin, I declare you do have the direct approach down pat! All right, here’s the broom, and maybe I can find some tea to go along with the cookies. Only this time it’s chocolate chip.”

  “Sounds just fine to me. I’ll have this cleaned up in a jiffy.”

  He vigorously applied the broom to the walk and pushed the small pile of leaves and twigs into the ditch between the end of her sidewalk and the road. By the time he finished picking up a half-full soft drink can, a napkin, and the remains of a sticky cellophane wrapper crawling with ants and deposited them in her garbage can, she was sitting on the front steps with a glass of tea in her hand and Justin’s next to a small plate of cookies.

  “Didn’t want to bring out too many and spoil both our suppers.”

  Justin wiped his hands on his jeans and stretched out on the steps. He took a bite out of a cookie and sipped at his tea. “Boy, your grandkids don’t know what they’re missing, Mrs. Garrison.”

  Her cookie stopped in midair. Slowly, she lowered it to her lap, and her head bowed.

  “I’m … sorry,” Justin muttered. “I guess I tend to say the wrong things too often.”

  She lifted her apron to one eye and dabbed at it. “No, Justin, actually you hit the nail on the head. Only it’s not their fault. Their mother just doesn’t understand that I have rights, too, and I’d like to see them. Even if for only one time a year, say at Christmas, or Easter, or … whatever.”

  “I guess she’s divorced, huh? I know how that goes.”

  She lifted the cookie to her mouth, finished it in two bites, and chewed deliberately and swallowed.

  “No, she’s not divorced. And I guess I can tell you this; you’d probably find out sooner or later anyway. Their daddy, my only son, is in prison at Lansing. For attempted murder of his parole officer.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Justin realized that he was staring at Mrs. Garrison and quickly gobbled the rest of his chocolate chip cookie and took a second one.

  “I don’t think anyone else in town knows about it,” she said, still dabbing at her eyes. “He ran away from home maybe fifteen years ago when I still lived in Parsons, right after his father, my husband, died, and almost no one here in Niotaka even knows, or cares, that I had a family. Then my mother, who still lived in this house, had to go into the nursing home on the other side of town, and I ended up moving here into her house.”

  Justin took a long sip of tea. “I won’t tell anyone, Mrs. Garrison.”

  “Wouldn’t make much difference if you did, anyhow, Justin. I don’t socialize much, and I really don’t care what the rest of the town thinks about me, anyway. I’ve heard some broad hints about why I’m not still working, and how I supposedly cheated my own mother out of her house. Truth is that the settlement when my husband was disabled was quite adequate, and other than living here, I’ve not touched a penny of my mother’s money. Even after she died four years ago.”

  Justin nodded and took a deep breath. “What would you say if I told you I know someone real well, whose father is in Lansing, too?”

  Mrs. Garrison looked sharply at Justin. “Like I said, I don’t care who thinks what about whom. It’s what the person himself, or herself does and thinks that counts.”

  “But isn’t it hard? I mean, you probably don’t get to see your son much, and your grandchildren and daughter-in-law don’t come and see you. Don’t you just sort of go crazy sometimes?”

  Mrs. Garrison took a sip of tea and brushed a fly away from her cheek. “Justin, you just have to deal with it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s life, Justin. Either you roll along life’s road, or you lie down and let someone roll over you.”

  “Oh.” Justin wrinkled his forehead. He wasn’t completely sure he understood Mrs. Garrison. Nor any philosophy. And after all that had gone down today, he wasn’t sure that a better idea to deal with life was to go to bed and pull the covers over his head until it all went away. In Topeka, he probably would have gone out and slammed somebody, but here …

  “Penny for your thoughts, Justin?”

  “Oh. Sorry, I just got lost there.”

  “Well, you tell that someone not to worry about what someone else has done, and that no one in town is going to hold the past against you, unless you’re a real scoundrel yourself. You understand?”

  “I don’t know. He’s kind of new in town, and sometimes other kids … take advantage of him.”

  Mrs. Garrison nodded. “No one said life was going to be easy, Justin.”

  He downed the rest of his tea and picked up one cookie. “I know. One for the road?”

  She laughed. “Take a couple for your sister, too. Oh, and Justin, ask her if she would be interested in doing a little light housecleaning for me maybe once or twice a month? My back goes out pretty easy, and I have trouble with it when I scrub or use a vacuum cleaner.”

  “I’m sure she’d be interested, Mr. Garrison. She just told me that our mom’s hours had been cut at the factory, and she was going to look for a babysitting job.”

  “Cut? Already?”

  “That’s what she said.”

  “Oh, goodness. We thought that might happen if they overhired. And it’s cheaper to run shifts with part-time help if you don’t have to pay them benefits. It’s a dirty trick, bringing them out here, getting them all settled in, and
then cutting their hours. They probably told them that maybe they’d go fulltime again soon, just to keep their hopes up.”

  Justin stared at her. “Where’d you hear all that?”

  “This isn’t the only town they have a factory in. My husband was a middle manager for them and was hurt in one of their factories. We were just lucky that he had witnesses to the accident. They settled with him to keep him from suing them for negligence and unsafe working conditions. Maybe he should have taken them to court.”

  “I’m … sorry about that.”

  “It was a long time ago. Biggest problem was that after he died I couldn’t handle our son by myself. I thought at the time that he was doing us all a favor when he ran away. Maybe he did do me a favor; maybe that’s why I’m still alive. He was pretty violent even when he was still fifteen. Oh, your sister’s waving at us, Justin.”

  Justin turned. Sharice was waving at him to come back across the road.

  “I guess I better go, Mrs. Garrison. Thanks for the tea and cookies. And for the advice.”

  She chuckled. “The cookies might be the best of the two. But it works for me.”

  Justin almost forgot to check both ways when he crossed the street, but as his foot hit the asphalt he swiveled his head and noted that, as usual, the street was empty. I’m getting too used to this burg, he thought. In Topeka, cars would practically crawl over the curb to get you, it seemed, but in Niotaka, it would be more likely for you to get hurt if you tripped on a pothole and went facedown. At least there weren’t many people around here who would kick you in the kidney while you were down. Okay, maybe there was one, and maybe he needed to get a little help with that problem, and maybe he needed to talk to Kerry tomorrow.

  “I told mama you were here, and she said to come in,” Sharice told him as he strode across the yard. “Oh-h, chocolate chip, my favorite. She seems to be a lot more friendly than she used to, doesn’t she, Justin?

  “Uh, huh. Don’t eat it now. Might spoil your supper.”

  “Whatever you say, boss.”

  “I say you should go over and talk to Mrs. Garrison after supper,” Justin said. “She said she might have some work for you. Cleaning house and stuff like that.”

  Sharice’s eyes widened. “Cool. I’d rather do that than take care of someone’s bratty kids. Did she say how much she’d pay?”

  Justin snorted as he opened the front door. “First you do the interview and then you negotiate for salary. Everyone knows that!”

  “What salary?” his mother greeted them from her armchair.

  “Oh, Mrs. Garrison said she wanted to talk to Sharice about housecleaning, and Sharice is already counting the cash.”

  “Well, that’s exactly what I want to talk to you about. Sit down, we’ll talk, and then we’ll get something to eat.”

  Sharice opened her mouth, but Justin noted the firm tone in his mother’s voice, grasped his sister’s elbow, and pulled her down onto the sofa next to him. “Okay, what’s up, Mom?”

  “Nothing, Justin, absolutely nothing. My hours have been cut at the plant, and I may even lose my benefits; you know, medical coverage and things. We’re going to have to tighten things up around here.” She suddenly glanced at her watch and at Justin. “Wait a minute, what are you doing home so early? Did they cancel practice?”

  Justin sighed and stretched. Might as well get it all on the table right now. “No, Mom, I had to go to a special study hall after school, and it lets out at 4:30. I can’t go to practice until I get my grades up.”

  “I see.” She leaned forward. “Well, if that’s the case, maybe you need to get a job and help out, don’t you think?”

  “Aw, Mom. You want me to quit football? Already?”

  “Sounds to me like you don’t have much of a choice.”

  “No, it’s not like that. If … I mean, when I get my grades back up I’ll be able to go to practice. And I plan to get caught up by the end of the week, next Monday at the latest.”

  She sighed. “All right, Justin, I know how important football is to you. And it’s probably better than hanging out like you used to … Well, never mind that. But the next time your grades drop, you can kiss football goodbye. And don’t even think about going out for basketball, either, unless your grades are good. I’m not saying you have to be on the honor roll, now, but you gotta keep those grades up.”

  Justin nodded. “No problem, Mom. I’m as good as back on that field again. I’m not a loser.”

  “I’m sure you aren’t. And if you can’t cut it, they’ve got a special four-to-eight pm shift out at the factory for students, five days a week. That’s why my hours were cut. They’re hiring part-time help, like college students, and cutting full-timers back.”

  “Can’t you do anything about it?”

  “I don’t think so. We’re a non-union factory. But that may not last if they keep these tricks up.”

  “Mama, I can help out,” Sharice chimed in. “I can work, too. My grades aren’t bad, so I have more time after school.” She shot a look at Justin.

  “Keep it up, Shar, and no more job leads for you. Or cookies.”

  She shot a look at him, opened her mouth for a rejoinder, and snapped it shut, holding tightly to the cookie in spite of the chocolate oozing out from between her fingers.

  “Well, I don’t know how we’re going to pay for that car, Justin. Aren’t you a little behind on the payments already?”

  “A week, I think. But why don’t I talk to Karl and see if we can get a little breather until the cash starts coming in? I guess I haven’t been pushing on yard work very much since school started. I could spend Saturday lining up jobs so that right after school I could mow one, maybe two yards before it got dark. I could fit the lawn mower into the trunk if I took the handle off, and that would save time and legwork. Maybe Shar could even go with me and see if anyone needed babysitting or housework, and she could still help with trimming while I was mowing, couldn’t you?”

  Sharice rolled her eyes. “You bet. Premium yard care; at your service, the Jeffersons. You grow ’em, we mow ’em.”

  “You got it. And your kid care motto could be … um …’You find ’em, I mind ’em.”

  Shar bent over double, pretending to stick a finger down her throat. “I’m gonna puke, Justin. You better let me do the talkin’ at the front door. You’re too silly!”

  “Whatever you say, brat. Mom, I know we can get past this. We just have to … deal with it, right?”

  She looked at both of them for a long moment, and then she smiled.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The chalk scratched across the pitted blackboard, skipping mysteriously over smooth patches and cuing the synchronized winces of the 22 students in the English class, almost in time with the jazz band's squawking that floated through the half-opened windows. Completely out of sync was the snapping of the over-chewed gum of the girl behind him, a dark-eyed, pouffy-haired junior.

  Justin ignored it all and finished his note: “Let’s talk. Lunch. South end of cafeteria. Bring friends? -Justin”. He passed the note backwards to Snap Sister behind him, who mumbled “Man!” under her breath and clicked her tongue. “How’m I gonna get these words down when I gotta be your messenger girl?” she hissed, but she took the note and tossed it onto the desk next to her. The short girl next in line sniffed and passed it under the desk beside her, and it progressed until Justin saw Kerry open it, scan the contents, meet his eyes, and nod once. And the vocabulary words continued to cover the blackboard, scratch by scratch.

  Justin thought that he would be early in the cafeteria, but already seated at the southernmost table in the cafeteria were Kerry and two lanky seniors that he vaguely recognized and nodded to.

  “Justin, you know Bret and Jerry? They play basketball,” Kerry said as if no other explanation were necessary.

  “All right,” Justin nodded, and he sat down next to Kerry and across the table from the others. They were already wolfing down the contents of their trays, and
he opened his carton of milk and almost spilled it as someone bumped his right elbow.

  “Hey, Justin. I hear you wanted to chat a little. I don’t suppose that little red car is giving you trouble?”

  “Hey, Karl. No, but I’m going to be about a week behind on payments. My mom’s hours got cut back, and yard work is literally drying up around here.”

  “I don’t see a problem with that. We know where you live, hey, guys?” He looked at the others and they chuckled. “I guess we all pretty much know where everyone lives and what they do around here. Not much like the city, is it?”

  “Nope.” Justin took a bite of a stale biscuit; it crunched. He bounced it off his plate, and it settled between the two basketballers. “Word gets around fast in Niotaka when there’s a problem, doesn’t it?”

  A tray clunked next to Karl. “Hey, guys,” Buck nodded. “What’s up?”

  “Back at you, Justin,” Kerry prodded him with her elbow. “You called this meeting.”

  Justin leaned back in his chair. “All right, guys, I’m new here, and I kind of stand out, you know what I mean? But that’s not the problem. One thing is that I gotta get my grades up or it’s going to be all over for Mr. Jefferson, rising sports star. But I got that under control. The other is … well … “ He looked behind Karl at Buck for support. Buck nodded at him.

  “I guess it’s no secret that Coach Greene needs at least five wins or he’s out the door. Maybe more than that, Buck?”

  “Well, I don’t talk to my dad much about school business. But he knows what Coach Greene says about wanting to have a winning season, and I’m sure he supports him, as long as he’s doing a good job. Winning’s not a hundred percent of whether or not a coach stays around, you know.”

  Justin licked his lips. “Well, if T. J. has his way, Coach Greene’s not going to have any chance for a winning season this year.” He looked at Kerry for help.

  She rolled her eyes and threw her napkin into the tray. “What Mr. Forensics here is trying to say is that T. J. has been trying to throw games. And you can take it from me as a fact: these 20-20 brown eyes saw someone spike the ball out of Justin’s arms and right into the Green Branch defense where they couldn’t miss it, and Justin tells me T. J. did it. Now, it’s a little harder to throw a game on a court with hundreds of people no more than 40 feet from you, right? Well, no offense, Buck, but it’s no secret that this town supports basketball more than football, and it’s hard to keep up with what’s happening on the field when half the lights are out, and the other half are pointing in the wrong direction.