Safety Net (6 page)

Dale made a show of looking around
their nearly empty table and said, “Is this your usual spot?”

The guy smiled again. “I don’t have
a usual spot. I like to sit with someone interesting.” He spoke with a slight
accent.

Dale twitched an eyebrow. “How do
you know I’m interesting?”

“I don’t. Yet. I’m Javier, by the
way.” He reached across the table to shake hands.

Dale shook his hand. “I’m Dale.” Javier
squeezed his hand lightly before letting go.

“What are you studying?” Javier
asked.

Dale had momentarily forgotten
about his homework. He glanced at his laptop. “Introduction to Statistical
Methods. I have an assignment due tomorrow.”

“Statistics? Maybe I can help you,”
Javier offered, and he got up and moved around the table to sit next to Dale,
shifting his MacBook around.

Okay, definitely being cruised
,
Dale thought, nervous and happy. “Why? Are you a math major?”

Javier laughed. “Oh, no. I’m in
political science. But I’ve done a lot of statistics.”

They talked about themselves, and
Dale learned that Javier was a poli-sci first year grad student. He’d earned a
B.A. in international relations from Crocker last summer. He was from Mexico
City and after earning his Ph.D., he wanted to return to Mexico to work in
political non-governmental organizations helping underrepresented groups. “The
sick, the elderly,” Javier said. “Children.” He paused, watching Dale. “Gays.”

Dale returned the look steadily. “Ah,
I’m in the presence of classic Crocker, then: the noble scholar out to save the
world.” He smiled. “While I’m just a freshman struggling over my stats
assignment.”

Javier had lifted an eyebrow at
freshman
,
and Dale inwardly flinched.
Oh, shit, I’m too young for him
. Javier
leaned closer and said, “Don’t you think the world needs saving?” Dale caught a
whiff of his cologne: subtle, classy. Grown-up.

“Yes, of course.” Dale licked his
lips and stared at his laptop screen, absently tapping his fingers along the
rim. Javier’s interest in him was like a drug, fueling his own desire. All he
could think was,
Don’t blow it. Don’t scare him off.

Javier sat back, silent for a
moment, then said, “Well. Show me what your assignment is, and maybe I can help
you.”

It could have been a brush-off, but
from the way Javier was watching him, Dale was pretty sure it wasn’t. He
followed Javier’s lead, though, and they confronted the assignment together,
and Javier suggested a few things which, while not immediately helpful, were on
the right track and got Dale to think about the assigned problem in a different
way.

Javier bought them coffees, and
they chatted some more until Dale noticed the time. He’d promised to get some
throws in with Erick that evening after Erick’s Western civilization class.
When he explained he had to leave to meet a football buddy, Javier’s eyes lit. “You
play football?” Then, before Dale could answer, the light dimmed and he said, “American
football.”

His disappointment made Dale cringe
inside. “Yes, American football. But I also play the other kind, errr, soccer.”
He hadn’t kicked a soccer ball since he was ten, but no need to elaborate. “Do
you play?”

“I played when I was a child,” Javier
said slowly. “It’s been a long time. I miss it.”

Dale, closing his laptop, took a
breath and said casually, “Perhaps you and I could play sometime. Some
afternoon when you’re not saving the world.” He smiled quickly at Javier. “Kick
the ball around, y’know.”

“Yes, perhaps we could. I’d like
that.” And Dale and Javier exchanged numbers and e-mail addresses.

Dale was giddy when he left to meet
Erick. He’d just kind of had a date. And might have another one soon.

-----

The only thing Erick cared about in
January was getting to February, when spring training started. He couldn’t wait
to start training again; it was all he could think about.

Until everything started going to
hell.

First there was the
Lowell-girlfriend surprise. Not that Lowell dating was anything bad, exactly.
Erick couldn’t say why it bugged him so much. Other than underscoring Erick’s
zero romantic life at Crocker, which he hadn’t actually noticed before.

Following on the heels of that was
Dale’s virtual disappearance from Hopkins Hall. Dale simply wasn’t around
anymore, and Erick only saw him if he texted him to come out for some throws.
There were other guys Erick could practice and hang out with, but it was
disconcerting to lose both Dale and Lowell at once.

But the worst was the Ryan Hutchinson
problem reaching its boiling point. It started small, when Lowell mentioned
off-handedly how Ryan had made a big deal of sitting away from Lowell in their
sociology class. Lowell had no idea why; Erick knew exactly why. Dale and
Lowell practiced with Erick, and Ryan took it personally. It made them Ryan’s
enemies.

And apparently the sociology class
incident was what led to Lowell meeting Kelly, so Erick had Ryan to thank for
that
.

None of it was serious, though. Not
yet. Not until the awful morning when Erick went down to breakfast at Hopkins
and Boylan, their redshirt kicker, came up to him and said, “Have you seen it?
What are you going to do?”

“Seen what?”

“Hutchinson’s rant.” Boylan
faltered, seeing that Erick had no idea what he was talking about. “It’s, um.
He posted it today. I think you should see it.” Boylan scurried off.

Erick ate breakfast before caving
in to curiosity. He went back to his room and stared at his laptop screen. Ryan
had posted a screed of sorts, denouncing Erick in every way possible, stating
that Erick’s abilities were overblown and made-up, challenging Erick to a “fair
fight,” calling on Erick to bring it on, and finally unraveling into a string
of obscenities.

“At least he can spell pussy right,”
Erick murmured, trying to find some humor but failing. He was staring at the
rantings of a lunatic. He couldn’t believe it.

Then there were the responses to
Ryan’s rant. Thankfully, the only ones from teammates were from two of the
seniors: Rolla and Duran. They both told Ryan to cool it in short, sharp terms.
The rest of the comments, though... Wow. Erick couldn’t think what on earth he’d
ever done to cause so many people he didn’t know personally to hate him. 
That was bad enough, but then Erick’s supporters came in, and that was worse.
By defending him they were bringing him into it, and Erick didn’t want to be
anywhere near Ryan’s shit storm. His supporters missed the point: this wasn’t
about him at all.

Erick resolved to do nothing about
it. What could he do? If he responded, he was opening that door and walking
right inside, into a fight he couldn’t win because the fight was all in Ryan’s
head. It would be like trying to play a video game with the screen turned off.

Erick sought out Dale -- he could
really use some of Dale’s acidic humor right now -- but Dale had left for class
already. Erick rode his bike over to Harris Hall, hoping to catch Lowell, but
Lowell’s roommate told him Lowell had spent the night with Kelly. Erick rode
away from Harris fast, remembering that Ryan lived there, too. He rode across
campus and beyond, exploring side streets and the neighboring town, skirting
along the edge of the creek. Hiding out until it was time for class.

After class, Lowell was waiting for
him when Erick got back to his dorm. Lowell was sitting in the hallway reading
a textbook.

“Dude,” Lowell said, standing up.
Looking as shocked as Erick had felt that morning.

Erick opened the door. “Kinney and
Yates aren’t home yet?” He tossed his bookbag onto his bed and collapsed next
to it, rubbing his hands over his face. Lowell stood uncertainly in the
doorway. “Have you seen Dale?” Erick asked.

“Yeah. Earlier. I think he went to
talk to--” Lowell snapped his mouth shut, and Erick looked up at him.

“What?”

Lowell shook his head.

“Don’t tell me. He didn’t. He
didn’t
.”
Erick sat up, fighting down panicked rage. Dale couldn’t be that stupid, that
impulsive.

“He was so pissed. You would not
believe.”

Erick sprang from the bed. “Goddammit.
I do not need Dale Lennart to fight my battles for me.” He stalked to the
window and back. “But it’s not even a battle, can’t he see that? Ryan is
unhinged. There’s something
wrong
with him. It’s not about me anymore.
If it ever was.”

“I don’t think it ever was,” Lowell
said meditatively. He leaned against the wall, setting his textbook on Erick’s
desk. “I told my mom all about Hutchinson over Christmas. She said some people
never grow out of high school. She told me about this girl she used to hate,
this girl who was the prettiest girl in school, homecoming queen, all that. Who
was a real bitch to the other girls, including my mom. Then when my mom went
back to her hometown after graduating from college, there was that girl, and
she was just the same as she’d been in high school. Except everyone else had
moved on. My mom said it was really sad to see her like that. I said but wasn’t
it also kind of satisfying, since the girl had been such a bitch, and my mom
said yeah, that too. Anyway, I think Ryan’s still stuck in high school, and I
think he thinks you are, too. But you’ve moved on. He hasn’t.”

Erick stared at Lowell. Lowell
understood it all perfectly.

“I can’t do anything about this,
you see that, right?” Erick said. “I think some of the guys are expecting me to
go kick Ryan’s ass, but I can’t do that.”

“No, that would be a boneheaded
move,” Lowell agreed. “I don’t think anyone expects you to, either. It’s just
that the guys are all pissed. On your behalf, but also... This has been a long
time coming. Ryan’s been an asshole to everyone since day one. If the guys are
out for blood, well, no wonder.”

“Yeah, but--”

Erick was interrupted by Dale
coming into the room. He looked grim but unharmed. Erick marched up to him. “You
didn’t go see him, did you? You’re not that stupid, are you?”

Dale just shook his head and said
in a flat tone, “Erick. Coach Bowman wants to see you. He’s waiting in his
office.”

Erick blinked a few times. “How do
you...? Oh my God, Dale,
no
. You didn’t.”

Dale patted Erick’s shoulder,
shaking his head. “Erick, just get over there. Now. You can get in my face
about this later. Just
go
.”

Lowell said, “Want me to come with
you?” Erick did, but Dale said to Lowell, “You better not.” And Erick saw that
Dale was right. He left them there in his room.

The next hour was one of the worst
in Erick’s life, including the time his father had caught him trying booze and
had lectured him on betrayal, trust, responsibility, and pride, ending with, “You
can choose alcohol or football, son. If you choose football, your mama and I
will support you. If you choose alcohol, you’re out of here when you’re
eighteen and we won’t have a son.” At the time, the threat had seemed immensely
real; Erick had only been nine.

The good thing, if one could call
it that, was that Dale hadn’t told Coach Bowman anything. He hadn’t needed to.
A sports blogger had seen the rant and had reported all the juicy details,
including the responses from both camps. The bigger sports outlets ignored it
(probably, Erick thought, out of respect for Coach Bowman and not because he or
Ryan deserved any consideration), but it was out there. It was something that
passed for news in the offseason.

Erick and Ryan stood side-by-side
in front of Coach Bowman’s desk. Coach Bowman was gravely calm, which was more
ominous than if he exploded in anger. After explaining that because of the
blogger, neither he nor the school could ignore this, he spoke only to Ryan.

“Hutchinson, you’re a mistake I
made. I’m very sorry for that. I watched you as a high school quarterback and
failed to see that you were just a kid and not ready to grow up yet. Some
coaches can work with that. They have the patience to wait or the tolerance to
overlook immaturity. I’m not one of them.

“Since you’ve arrived at Crocker,
you’ve blamed everyone but yourself for your poor performance. You’ve had the
gall to blame me, to my face.” (Erick blinked, stunned by this, though by now
Ryan’s crazy stupidity shouldn’t surprise him.) “I’ve given you every
opportunity. You’ve wasted them all. I had already decided not to start you
next season--”

“Coach, no! You can’t do that!” Ryan
shouted.

Stop it. Please stop digging
your own grave
, Erick thought desperately.

Coach Bowman continued, slightly
less calm, “--but I was willing to keep you as a reserve. Because we made
promises to each other, you and I. Today, Hutchinson, you’ve made it impossible
for me to keep those promises. I’m cutting you from the team, and since your
presence at Crocker depends upon your eligibility as a football player, you
will not be staying at Crocker after this quarter.”

Ryan lost it, yelling, waving his
arms about, calling Erick and Coach Bowman every name in the book, threatening
everyone with lawsuits. He said Crocker could go fuck itself, he didn’t want to
stay at this “shitbag school” any longer. Coach Bowman sat with his jaw clenched
and rode it out. He’d been through worse, Erick realized with sick awe.
Finally, when Ryan finished and was at the door to make his grand exit, Coach
Bowman said quietly, “Ryan. You want to get to the NFL?”

Ryan stopped, looked back. Erick
inwardly groaned
. If you’re going to be an irresponsible, irrational
lunatic, at least go out on a high. Don’t get lured back for the kill by your
own vanity
.

“You do, don’t you?” Coach Bowman
continued. “Then just let me say this. If you think there are more coaches in
the NFL who’ve heard of you than have heard of me, you are dead wrong. To this
date, you have never played college ball. You do not exist as far as the NFL’s
concerned. If you think you can carve a career for yourself in the pros by
threatening me and this university, by trying to drag us into a lawsuit, you
are very much mistaken. I don’t know if you’re hearing me right now, but
remember what I’m saying to you. And when you’ve calmed down some, think about
it. You can leave now. Coach Miller’s waiting to take you to see the athletic
director.”