The usual applies. See Chapter One for the usual. Please donate to Nifty. Always be safe.
Coach Gardner wants to run the Mayfield High baseball program his way. Any dissenters are welcome to leave. He finds the right buttons to push on Marty, the buttons that make Marty decide that heading for Randy's house for a welcome bottle of vodka will solve his rapidly escalating problems.
Douglas at thehakaanen@hotmail.com
CHAPTER 21 SCHEMES
<Monday, January 5th, Mayfield Middle School>
The New Year started out positively for the Mayfield boys. Little did they know that some of their worlds would come crumbling down before the start of baseball season. A group of the baseball boys sat together at the baseball table: Eric, Noah, the twins, Lars, and Hunter. They almost always sat together at lunch, and today was no exception. Sometimes Justin, a seventh grader joined them. Sixth graders Chandler, Korey, Drew, and Mikey joined them at times as well.
"How was the big trip?" Kevin asked Eric.
"It kicked ass, just totally kicked ass beyond kicking ass." Eric knew his family had a big trip planned during winter break, and was ecstatic when he found out they would be going on a Caribbean cruise. They left the day after Christmas and returned home on January second. "It was warm, sunny, and there were lots of things to do. The ship rocked, the beaches rocked, and I got to snorkel for the first time." Eric's enthusiasm for the trip was obvious to all and most of the lunch talk was about Eric's incredible trip.
"Ships are supposed to rock," Noah said.
"You know what I meant," Eric told him.
"I know you weren't precise with your language, but I forgive you, since you obviously got caught up in the excitement of the moment."
"We're all jealous of that tan," Kraig said, changing the subject.
The conversation at lunch the next day turned to an entirely different topic, one that made a couple of them uncomfortable. "You know what would be ultra cool?" Kevin asked.
Somebody had to bite and answer the question and it was Kraig who did so, since he already knew what the question was going to be. He answered the question with a question: "What?"
"It would be cool if all six of us came out and told everybody we were boyfriends before we finished here and went to high school."
"That might be cool if we were actually boyfriends," Noah said. "But since that doesn't happen to be the case..."
"I thought you two were, like, an item; that you were, like, dating and stuff."
"We are dating, but that doesn't make us boyfriends who are ready to come out to the world and hold hands going down the hall." Noah looked over at Eric to make sure he was on solid ground. "Right, Eric?"
"Noah's right. Maybe someday we'll get there, but that day isn't right now."
"And there is no way I am anybody's boyfriend," Hunter said. "And even if I was, I sure wouldn't want to say it to everybody." He looked at Kraig for support. "Right, Kraig?"
"Um...yeah...sure...right," Kraig said. He still couldn't figure out Hunter. He and Hunter had acknowledged they were more than bed buddies. When Kraig took Hunter's cherry, Hunter said he wanted them to be boyfriends. But now he wouldn't even admit that to his closest friends. Kraig looked at Kevin, who shrugged his shoulders. Kevin knew all about the relationship between Kraig and Hunter.
"That leaves you, Lars," Kevin said.
"I'm Kevin's boyfriend. But like Hunter said, if he was Kraig's boyfriend, he sure wouldn't want to come out and tell everybody, and I sure don't want to right now. "Besides, I don't need to hold Kevin's hand in the hall bad enough to go tell everybody we're gay."
"I guess that settles that." Kevin had misread his friends, but he was the type of person to hold no resentments over their decisions. He couldn't help but think their time to come out would arrive, if not this year, then soon after that. What he didn't know was how soon it would happen and what the consequences would be.
<Monday, January 5, Mayfield High School>
Coach Gardner watched as the final student left his classroom after his last period US History class. He packed up what he wanted to take home with him as he prepared to head for the gym for basketball practice. He coached the JV girls' basketball team. The head coach had his last period free, but the assistant coaches didn't receive that privilege. Oh well, he thought, I will have last period open next semester for baseball season.
Sara came skipping into his room just as he started for the door. Sara was a fifteen year old sophomore who had used her looks and feminine wiles to help Coach Gardner keep tabs on some of the freshman baseball players he considered to be trouble makers. His major target was Marty.
"Hi, Coach Gardner. I wanted to tell you how much fun it was with you over break and thought I'd walk to practice with you."
"Shhhh, not so loud," he said with a smirk.
"Sorry. But it was fun." Sara had spent two nights at the coach's house while his wife was gone visiting her parents. While Sara had not been a virgin before the visit, she discovered that sex with a grown, mature man was an entirely different affair than sex with a teenage high school boy.
"We agreed not to talk about it in school, didn't we, Sara?"
"Yeah, I know. Sorry, Gary...I mean Mr. Gardner." Sara's feelings for her coach had gone from a school girl crush to knowing that she was totally, completely, and madly in love with her teacher. She would do anything to sleep with him again, or to just step into a shower with him. Just standing there in the room with him caused her to feel the juices flow.
"Let's walk down to the gym." Sara played on Coach Gardner's JV team. "Did you get together with Rodney after we...um...talked?" he asked the petite sophomore.
She blushed and said they'd done more than spend time together. "But he's not near as good as you are," she whispered. Coach Gardner could see that Sara was starting to become more of a liability than an asset. He had had an affair with a student at his previous school. The girl had been much more mature than Sara and they both enjoyed the relationship. Because of dropping enrollment, his position had been eliminated. He found his current job in Mayfield soon after.
"What did Rodney have to say?"
"He said that they decided in their last meeting that they were going to play for their Falcons team, or whatever it's called, and not for the team you said they have to play on. He said Marty told them that you couldn't cut them all because they were, like, the best freshman players in the school."
I might not be able to cut them all, but I can sure get rid of Marty, the coach though to himself, or, even better, get him to cooperate with me totally and end that whole Falcon team bullshit.
"Did you make any arrangements to see Rodney again?" Coach Gardner asked.
"I see him all the time here in school, even if he is, like, a freshman."
The two had exited the main building and were standing in the breezeway that connected the main building with the gymnasium. "Do you want to do me another favor?"
"You know I'd do anything for you."
Coach Gardner cringed inwardly at Sara's statement. "How well do you know Marty?"
"You mean the freshman?"
"Is there another Marty?" Coach Gardner was learning rapidly that Sara was never going to be in the running for any academic awards.
"I don't know him real good, why?"
Coach Gardner paused long enough to acknowledge the greetings of two boy basketball players who walked past on their way to the gym. "So, you'd have no compunction about getting him into a little bit of hot water?"
"Compuncwhatever, what's that?"
"It means you'd have no problem getting him into trouble, even if you have to lie about it?"
"You could have said that to start with instead of using big words. I don't even know him. And I said I'd do anything for you even if it means lying. I mean I'd do it as long as he, like, doesn't find out about it or nothing."
"Okay, we need to get down to practice. How about you hang around after practice and I give you a ride home. I'll tell you what I need you to do then."
"Sure, Ga...er...Coach," the girl said enthusiastically. The two split up after entering the foyer, each going to their respective locker room. Sara could hardly wait for the ride home with her coach, while Coach Gardner couldn't help but wonder if the Byzantine web he was weaving was worth the effort and risk he was putting into it.
After practice, Sara waited outside in back of the gym as instructed. Coach Gardner drove his car to the end of the parking lot, killed his lights, and waited for Sara to approach in the dark. Sara got into the car and threw her backpack into the backseat. They left the parking lot and headed out of town until Coach Gardner pulled into a dirt road that was surrounded by forest. He found a wide spot and parked, leaving the engine running on the cold January evening. He explained to Sara what he wanted her to do.
"So, you want me to tell Rodney that me and Marty got drunk at his place and he fucked me?" Sara asked after the coach finished.
"You don't have to say he fucked you if you don't want to. But you have to say you two got drunk together and that he swore you to total silence." Coach Gardner knew Sara had no problem with drinking alcohol. She'd gotten a little drunk on the wine he'd served her on the first night she slept with him. He definitely knew that she had no problem fucking a boy, let alone a man.
"What if Rodney asks Marty about it and he says it isn't true?"
"First, you have to convince Rodney that your story is true. Second, you let me take care of what happens after that."
Sara nodded that she understood. Coach Gardner leaned over and held the sophomore's head and kissed her lips. The girl accepted his tongue eagerly and the intensity of the kisses picked up. Coach Gardner killed the engine and instructed Sara to get into the back seat. She quickly sat in the back, tossing her backpack over into the front seat. The coach pulled a big heavy blanket out of the trunk and sat next to her in the back of the car.
"I guess I should reward you for the great job you're doing for me," the coach said. Although the reward is really mine, he thought to himself.
It didn't take long before the petite fifteen year old was stripped to the waist and Coach Gardner had his hands all over her still developing breasts and soon had his lips around one of them. Soon both of them were naked, with Coach Gardner sitting upright on the seat, Sara on his lap, and the blanket draped over their shoulders. Sarah moaned lovingly as she rode the coach's seven inch cock. The coach responded to Sara's teenage pussy surrounding his hips by covering her upper body with kisses. As much as he tried to control his passion, the end result was quick and satisfying for the coach, but Sara was disappointed when he broke off the sex before she had an orgasm of her own.
<Monday, January 19, Sara's house>
It was Martin Luther King Day and school was out. Sara had asked Rodney on Friday if he wanted to come to her house on Monday. She told him her mother was working and maybe they could have some fun in her bed. Rodney had never been one to pass up a romp in bed, going back to the first time he got laid by a fourteen year old when he was ten.
Rodney and Sara lay naked on her bed. He was rock hard and anxious to make out with her some more and to finish up by fucking the slender girl. But, for whatever reason, she seemed to want to talk. He opened up the package that had his rubbers and pulled a condom out, wishing Sara would just shut up and open up her legs. On the one hand it was great that a sophomore as pretty and popular as Sara was putting out for him, a freshman. On the other hand she was really a ditzy blond and could drive him nuts at times. This was one of those times. He was remembering why he didn't like hanging with one girl for long, but preferred to play the field. Rodney put the rubber to his lips and started blowing into it, treating it like a balloon.
"Are you even listening to what I'm telling you?" Sara asked somewhat impatiently.
Rodney pulled the rubber away from his lips. "Yeah, every word." He couldn't help but wonder if this is what married couples were like in bed.
"So, you aren't mad about what Marty did then?"
"No, of course not." Rodney didn't have a clue about what she was talking about. He'd been too busy playing with his cock and wanting to stick it into the fifteen year old's twat to really listen to what she was saying.
"You mean you don't mind him getting drunk with me and fucking me?"
Oh, so that's what she's talking about, he thought. Damn, who cares what Marty does in bed? Besides, he's probably queer, anyway.
"It's his business. But he doesn't drink no more, so it seems weird he did it with you."
"Weird that he drank with me or weird that he fucked me?"
"Girl, you have to stop using dirty words like that. That's for us boys to do."
"You're impossible. I like older boys way better than a baby freshman."
"So, do you want me to leave?"
Sara was horny enough to answer no to that question. "So what's so weird about what Marty did?" she asked again.
"It's weird that he drank. I dunno much about his sex life." I sure ain't telling that slut that I think he's queer, because she'd tell everybody.
"Are you calling me a liar?"
"No, I'll go ask him and he'll tell me what went down."
"I can tell you that Marty will lie to you."
"Oh? And how do you know that?"
"I just know his type."
Rodney knew there was something suspicious going on. Marty had been his teammate in football and baseball since they were little kids, and over the past year they'd even started becoming friends. There was no way this girl would get Marty to drink with her; they hardly knew each other.
On top of that, Rodney had the suspicion that there was more going on between Marty and Rich than their just being close buddies. Marty used to make a big deal about chasing girls, but he'd never had a girlfriend. He had the reputation for being a cocksucker at parties when he was drinking. And to top it off, when Rich and Marty had become friends again, Rich and Trish broke up. To Rodney, all of that really hinted that Marty might be gay, not that he cared. For one thing, Marty was a good looking jock, a stud the girls gave a lot of second looks to, but who didn't seem interested in them. If Marty was gay, Rodney figured that would keep the competition for those girls down. And gay or not, Rodney thought Marty was a cool dude who was a good friend.
All of this had caused Rodney's boner to deflate. The fact that he was soft while lying in bed with a hot girl gave him a message. The message said it was time to get dressed and go. He got out of the bed and grabbed his boxers off of the floor. "Time to go," he said.
"Aren't we going to, like, fuck?"
"I'm suddenly not in the mood. Sorry." He pulled his clothes on quickly.
"Did I do something wrong?"
"Nah, it's not about you," he lied. He gave her a perfunctory kiss and left her room as quickly as he could. To him that whole affair was very strange. He had never walked out on a girl before, especially a naked one lying on her bed eager for sex, but he had suddenly felt uncomfortable about how things were going.
As for Sara, she was upset with Rodney. "Fucking freshman—he is so fucking immature," she said to herself. Rodney might have walked out on her, but she still needed to take care of the horniness that making out with him had created.
Rodney decided to see if Marty was home and find out what the deal was with him and Sara. He got to Mr. B's house and knocked. Mrs. B answered and guided him to the guest bedroom in back where Marty was staying. He knocked on the bedroom door. Marty opened the door, wearing just a pair of boxers. "Hey Rodney, wassup?"
"Do you always answer the door in your underwear?"
"It's my bedroom. Besides, I didn't expect to see you."
The two boys sat on the couch in the large guest room. Marty turned off the TV. He made no attempt to wear anything besides his boxers. "What brings you to my house?" Rodney noted how Marty called Mr. B's house "my house". "This isn't exactly a popular destination." Marty was still a bit of a loner. He rarely had visitors at his parents' house and didn't expect to see any here.
"Do you know Sara Collins?"
"I know who she is...cute blonde sophomore girl. Why, does she have the hots for me?"
"I was with her before coming here."
"With her where?"
"With her naked on her bed."
"Damn, you stud you, getting it on with a soph. I love it. So, you came here to do some bragging?"
"Not exactly. We ended up not doing it."
"Wait...you were naked in bed with Sara Collins and you didn't fuck her?"
"Not this time. I've done her a couple of times before."
"Okay, I am very confused. What does all this have to do with me?"
Marty's confusion had already more than convinced Rodney that Sara had been lying to him and that Marty had had nothing to do with Sara. "She says you were at her house last weekend and the two of you got drunk and you fucked her."
"Don't tell me you believed that shit," Marty said.
"No, not really, but I still had to, you know, check it out. All I could think of was why would she lie to me while we were naked and ready to have sex?"
"I have no clue. I mean I don't even know the bitch. I'm getting really tired of people saying shit about me."
"So you didn't get drunk and have sex with her?"
"Fuck, Rodney, that's what I just told you. I haven't had any booze in over a year and I don't fuck girls."
Rodney gave Marty a startled look. "What do you mean you don't fuck girls? All you've talked about since sixth grade is which girl you were gonna fuck next, even though we all knew you never fucked any of them."
Marty realized he had somewhat overstepped his bounds, not personally, but because anything he said would involve Rich. Marty didn't care what Rodney thought about him, but he couldn't out Rich. "I just mean I don't fuck them because, um, it can be kinda dangerous. The whole abstinence shit we learn about, you know, how we can't get a girl in trouble as long as we don't have sex with one."
"I don't believe you think that way for a second. I know I don't—that's what rubbers are for."
"Think whatever you want." Marty decided to steer the conversation into a slightly different direction. "You must have a huge case of blue balls after making out naked with Sara and never getting off."
"You don't know the half of it."
"I was just thinking about jerking off when you knocked. All this talk about girls has me totally horny now," he lied. It was Rodney's presence in his bedroom that was making him horny. "You're welcome to join me."
"I haven't jerked off with another guy since the end of last school year," Rodney said.
"Wow, a whole six months ago."
"I guess it would be something different to do. I know you were mister jerk off in class, and the showers, and on the team buses, back in middle school. And I got a boner that won't quit. But no funny stuff."
"I don't lean that way," Marty said.
Rodney thought about the way Marty and Rich hung out together. He thought about what Marty had just said about not fucking girls. Rodney didn't believe his friend, but it wasn't his way to start digging. Right now he was horny beyond horny and it would be kind of fun to get off with his buddy.
Marty pulled off his boxers. His boner was standing up, hard and ready.
"Are you sure it's safe here?" Rodney asked.
"Nobody bothers me except Jeffrey, and he's in bed with a cold. I don't think we'll see him."
While Rodney was as straight as anybody in the baseball group, he also wasn't hung up on protocol. Right now he and a buddy were horny and he saw no problem with them taking care of business together. The last time he jerked off with another boy was after he and Vince had made out naked and furiously with a couple of seventh grade girls at Vince's house just short of the last week of school. The girls wouldn't go all the way with them and said they had to be home in time for dinner. They lay back on the couch in Vince's basement and took care of their business.
This time Rodney lay back on the couch in Marty's bedroom, his pants and boxers pulled down to his ankles and his t-shirt pulled up above his nipples. His friend was next to him, naked. The two freshmen got ready for business, but Marty stopped Rodney before they really got started.
"Want some lube?"
"Anything's better than spit."
Marty got some petroleum jelly from his bathroom, and then the two horny teens, Marty being fifteen and Rodney fourteen, started pounding their hard adolescent cocks. Rodney didn't see the session on the couch as being sexual at all, nor did Marty, even though he was gay. It was simply two horny boys doing what horny boys do.
Because of his assignation with Sara, Rodney was very ready to blow out his sexual tension. As his not totally mature teen cum shot out of his cock he could tell instantly that he should have pulled his shirt off instead of merely pulling it up; his first two squirts of cum both landed on his shirt. Rodney's orgasm was all it took for Marty to shoot his more mature cum. He shot three squirts on his bare chest and a couple more dribbled lower.
Marty saw the mess on Rodney's shirt and offered him one of his t- shirts to wear home. "I'll keep your shirt and throw it in the wash," Marty said.
"Sounds like a plan." As he pulled off his shirt, he asked Marty to tell him again why he left his family.
"Me and the old man didn't get along, just like I've been saying at school," Marty told him.
"Okay, whatever." Rodney pulled his pants up. "That was fun." They talked a little more about Sara's deceit and finally Rodney said he had to go. The two of them fist bumped at the door, and Rodney left, still wondering what the real reason was that Marty had left home and moved in with this family. The two of them never did return the shirts to each other.
<Saturday, January 31, Centralia Methodist Church meeting room>
Marty sat patiently waiting for the meeting to start. He'd invited three people to be at the meeting that evening. They were sitting quietly next to him. Rich was at his right side, sitting as close to Marty as he could. Sitting to his left were his brother, John, and Eric. His two sponsors, Mr. B and Donald, were both at the meeting. His mother sat quietly at the far back of the room. Donald had said he would take Marty's guests home after the ceremony if they didn't want to sit through the entire hour long meeting, but after learning that there would be cake at the end of the meeting, they all elected to stay. Eric, for one, was curious as to how the whole meeting business worked.
The meeting started with the Serenity Prayer and then went through the usual readings and announcements. Finally the meeting secretary called on their birthday chip chair to start the birthday countdown.
Two people came up to collect a 30 day chip, one picked up a 60 day chip, and nobody was celebrating a three month birthday. A middle aged lady then collected her six month chip. Each person celebrating a birthday said a few words about how he or she had stayed sober long enough to collect a chip. Each recipient received an enthusiastic round of applause, both after getting their chip and their birthday hug, and after sharing how they did it.
The chair said simply, "One year," and Marty leaped up. "My name is Marty and I'm an alcoholic and on January first I had one year." He went to the front of the room to collect his chip, getting a huge hug from the portly birthday chair.
"I did it by not drinking one day at a time like my sponsor told me. I did it by listening to my sponsor and doing the work he told me to do. I did it because I listened to some of you here at the meeting and because you never treated me like a little kid. You all treated me like a grown up and you told me you wanted me to keep coming back. I did it because you all wanted me to stay sober. And I did it with help from friends like Eric and Rich, who came with me today, and people like my brother who came, too. Thank you."
Marty hurried away from the front before he started to cry, but he couldn't move fast enough to get past Mr. B, who gave him a huge, heartfelt hug. Nobody missed the tears coming from the eyes of the teenage boy and his adult sponsor after they broke the hug.
As Marty sat back in his chair, not bothering to wipe away the tears, the words Mr. B had told him more than once sat in his head. "The first year is discovery. After that comes recovery." Marty knew he still had a lot of work left to do. He was thankful to have so many people in his life to help him do it. He wished his father could have been one of those.
<Wednesday, February 4, Mayfield High School>
Marty walked into Coach Gardner's classroom. When he was an eighth grader he might have walked in with the strut of a cocky young teen, but he would have been suffering from innumerable forms of fear on the inside. But this time he was walking into the room with the air of a confident young adult, who felt he had nothing to fear from his baseball coach, a man for whom he had little respect.
"Thanks for coming in Marty." Coach Gardner had asked Marty to come into his room after school. The girls' JV team had a game at 5:45, so the coach had no practice to attend.
"Not a problem, coach. What do you need?"
"Baseball turnouts start in a little over two weeks, although I suppose I don't need to tell you that."
"I'm ready for it to start. We're going to have a really good JV team, and I bet the varsity will be good, too," Marty said, attempting to be diplomatic.
"Well, the start of baseball is what I wanted to talk to you about."
"I've been working out and attending the throwing sessions with Coach Hart." Coach Hart was a first year teacher who would be taking the JV job that had been held by Coach Gardner. "And I've been going with Rodney, and Rich, and Vince and a couple of other guys to the batting cages in Centralia on the weekends." Marty wondered where Coach Gardner was heading with this conversation.
"You're still part of that baseball club or whatever it is, right?"
"The Go to State Team. Yes, sir, I'm still in it." Marty decided that it might be a good idea to be as polite and formal as he could.
"I hear you're the president of the group?"
"I'm called the chairman." Marty could feel his confidence sag a little as he started to get the drift of the conversation.
Coach Gardner ignored him. "You're the president after I told all of you freshmen I wanted you to have no part of that group; that I would take care of summer ball."
"We put a lot of work into the Falcons, coach. We think our group will help the program. We'd have no problem with you helping. I mean you are our school coach and all. But since you can't coach us, we still need a coach of our own."
"Who said I can't coach you?"
"We were told by Coach Sanders and Coach Ecklund that those were the rules."
"Only if you insist on being an all Mayfield team. My plan is to combine you with Kentwood or Meadow Park players, or both. Then I can coach you."
"We think for us to be the best we can be we should all be from Mayfield." Marty knew he was starting to step into some deep shit, but he didn't care. He believed in what he was doing and in his teammates. They didn't elect him to be the chairman of the group because he was going to wuss out when things got tough.
"I think what is best for you as a baseball player in my program is for you to resign as the president and to convince your fellow freshmen to quit. I'll deal with the eighth graders next year."
"No offense coach, but I can't quit on my teammates. Too many people worked too hard to get us where we are."
"You're not going to quit on your teammates; you'll all be leaving together. I think when I tell them they have no future in Mayfield baseball if they insist on staying with your silly club they'll drop it like a hot potato. So, you might as well lead the way."
"I can't do that, coach." Marty was now working up a sweat. He was afraid this conversation with his coach was going to eventually happen, and the deeper he got into it, the more he realized he wasn't as prepared for it as he thought he was.
"Sure you can, Marty. Because if you don't I'll spill your little secret."
Oh, fuck, Marty thought, he knows about me and Rich—but how? "Um...secret?"
"The secret that you've taken up drinking again."
"I don't know who told you that, sir, but it's not true. I haven't had any alcohol for over a year."
"I've heard differently from two different people."
Marty could feel his temper bubbling up. He would rather have heard about his relationship with Rich than about the relationship of him and alcohol. He knew he would have to leave the coach's classroom before he lost control of himself. But he wasn't ready to leave yet. He reached into the right front pocket of his jeans, pulled out a metal coin and whammed it down on the student desk to his right. "I don't care what they say. That is my one year coin and I fucking worked my ass off for it. I never worked harder for anything in my life, and anybody who says different can go f..., go jump in a lake."
"It's easy to fool people, Marty. I understand alcoholics are good at doing that and you seem to be an expert at it. But I'm not easily fooled. When two of your peers tell me they've seen you drunk in the past month, I have to believe them. I can't imagine why they would lie about it."
Marty glared at the coach. "One of them is Sara Collins, who I've never spent a moment alone with in my life," he said quietly, his voice tinged with anger. "Who is the other liar?"
Coach Gardner was surprised that Marty knew about Sarah, but he didn't attempt to find out how he found out. "An old drinking buddy of yours, who has become grown up enough to see the error of his ways, and of your ways."
"Who?" Marty asked again. Connor's name popped into his head first. He knew Connor still drank booze, but he also knew Connor would be the last person to rat him or anybody else out to the coach or any other adult.
"Steve."
A momentary quiet settled on the room. Marty was furious now. Next to his dad, Steve was the biggest asshole in his life. He had been a pain since he was in seventh grade. Steve had a way of convincing adults of his goodness when he was, in fact, a devious son-of-a-bitch. What Marty couldn't figure out was why Sara and Steve would fabricate a story about his drinking and tell the coach.
What Marty didn't know was that Coach Gardner was having sex with Sara and that he had promised Steve, a sophomore, a spot on the varsity roster if he went along with the story of Marty's going back out and drinking. Coach Gardner had heard rumors that there was little love lost between the two boys and decided to take advantage of it.
While Coach Gardner owed his varsity job to Coach Collins being fired because the boys had exposed the former coach's misuse of the ballpark advertising funds, the coach was also the former coach's friend and colleague. He was prepared to make the players involved in getting Coach Collins terminated pay a price for their audacity. He knew that Coach Collins supported everything he was doing. Coach Gardner was certain that the former coach didn't know how he had convinced Sara to help him. Marty was going to be one of his first victims.
"Steve hates my guts and would say anything to get at me."
"Steve played on my JV team last year and I have found him to be a young man of integrity, unlike the one standing in front of me in my classroom right now."
"I better go," Marty said, his anger now showing in his voice, his body language, and his flushed face. Marty could feel his knees shaking he was so angry.
"Let me know when you quit that silly club of yours."
"You won't ever know, because it won't fucking happen!" Marty shouted as he walked out the door, almost bumping into Sara. His fury had become an unchecked adolescent fury, a rage that was almost out of control; he hadn't felt this angry in months.
"Hey, Gary...er, Coach," said Sara just as she entered the room. She noticed the charging Marty just in time to avoid him, but not in time to avoid her verbal faux pas.
Marty growled something to Sara, but didn't slow down as he stomped his way down the hall. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and looked up Randy's number. If everybody says I've gone back to drinking, then fuck them, I'll go drink. If I'm gonna get blamed for it anyway, I might as well do it.
As he scrolled through his contact list he went past Donald's name. He was holding the phone in his left hand. It wasn't until then that he felt his one year coin tightly clamped in his right hand. He had been so angry he hadn't realized that he had been grasping it with his fist since he'd whammed it on the desk.
He stopped scrolling and tapped Donald's number. As soon as he called he hoped nobody would answer, as the desire to drown his anger in alcohol went back to the top of his thoughts. He was pleased when after five rings the phone went to voicemail.
Okay, I've been good, he thought. I can always say I did what I was supposed to do and nobody answered. Now I can call Randy.
Marty thought about that bottle of vodka he could get from Randy, but just like his mind wouldn't let go of the desire to drink, his right hand wouldn't let go of his coin. There's nobody else to call, he thought. He'd never bothered to enter the numbers he'd been given at the Mayfield meeting he'd attended. He didn't want to bother Eric, or Noah, or somebody who wasn't in the program. He scrolled to Randy. He could almost taste the booze in his mouth. He could sense the warmth that would flow through him once he sampled it. He could sense the numbness he would feel as his problems disappeared while he drank himself to oblivion.
He was ready to touch Randy's name when he saw another name under it, the one number he had entered from the meeting. He remembered putting the number into his phone as a kind of joke, because the person was so weird. He thought it would be like a status symbol to have it even though he never intended to call it. He looked at Randy's number and squeezed his coin tighter, wishing the life he led belonged to somebody else, wishing he could drink it away, wishing he could find his answers in the bottle he was ready to buy from his fellow freshman.
He looked at the other name one more time. It simply said The Schnoz. He closed his mind to all thought and pushed the name with his index finger. A raspy voice answered on the second ring.
"Who is this?"
"Marty from school and I met you at a meeting and you gave me your phone number." Marty wasn't sure what to say, so he let the words flow out rapid fire.
"What do you want?" the voice asked warily.
"I need help," Marty said simply. "I need help now. Please"
There was a long pause and then the voice asked, "Where are you?"
"In front of the high school."
"Can you make it to the middle school?"
"Yeah." At least I can if I go to my right, he thought. But I won't if I go to my left.
"You'll find me at the bus area." There was a click and the voice was gone. Marty looked to his left and saw Randy starting down the street toward his house. He was tempted to take the easy way, which would be to follow Randy, especially since the voice of the Schnoz seemed cold and unfriendly. He squeezed his coin. He'd go to the middle school, and if The Schnoz was an asshole he could always leave and go to Randy's house.
He trudged to Mayfield Middle School. The buses were lining up in the bus zone. Only a few students who lived in town rode the bus; most of the bus riders were out of town students. He saw a lone figure standing near the open door of the first bus. It was The Schnoz, recognizable from the distance by his somewhat corpulent figure.
Marty walked over to him and stopped a few feet away, saying nothing.
"I thought it was you I talked to," The Schnoz said. "You can either stand here and watch me herd the little monsters onto the busses, or you can go gawk at whoever seems cute to you." At that moment the bell ending the school day rang. "From what I saw of you here at this place, it will probably be male."
Marty chose to stand. He was afraid that if he let the big, gruff man out of his sight he would head straight for Randy's house. He didn't want to go there, he didn't want to become a mess again, he didn't want to let everybody down. Yet, at the same time he wanted to get drunk and stay drunk for days, or weeks, or months, or whatever it took to make his life numb and keep it numb.
We watched the kids come out of the school, many of them snug in their winter coats, others braving the cold wearing just light jackets, or hoodies, some even wearing shorts. Marty had a warm jacket on. He hated being cold.
"Hey Marty, what are you doing here?" a voice asked. He turned and saw Kevin, who flashed him a big smile.
"I just needed to see somebody."
"Somebody cute?"
"Well, it wasn't you, if that's what you're thinking."
Kevin grinned and headed for the third bus, which was the bus for the townies. Marty saw a few other boys he knew, including Chandler and Korey, who were both excited to see him.
The buses were soon loaded and pulled out of the bus loading zone. The Schnoz surprised Marty by putting an arm around his shoulder, the first time he'd shown any warmth. "Sorry about the delay. Thanks for waiting. I gotta do my job; it's what they pay me for. Let's go to my little cubbyhole." Marty knew exactly the place he was talking about. He'd gone by it often on the way to the main hall boys' room during lunch as he looked for sexual release.
On the way into the building, they passed Dallas, a twelve year old seventh grader. Marty knew who he was and was surprised how pallid and thin he looked. "The boy needs help, doesn't seem to be getting it," The Schnoz said. "Kind of like another boy I saw wandering around these halls." He looked directly at Marty when he said that.
They went into the closet sized room that had a small desk and two chairs. "Sit down."
Marty did. "Why don't you help Dallas?"
"Ain't my job. I tell the counselor what I think and she spends time filling out paperwork and nothing much gets done."
"Did you tell her about me?"
"Yep. And nothing much got done then, but something's been done by somebody. It was nice to see you at that meeting. Guess you needed the number I gave you. Funny how that works. I take it you got the compulsion to drink inside you."
"Big time. Really big time," Marty admitted. He was shaking, only this time it was from being nervous rather than from anger.
The Schnoz had Marty relate to him about why he was that upset. Marty told him about Coach Gardner and his attempt to destroy the Go to State Team.
"Sounds to me like you got a major resentment," The Schnoz told him.
"No. What I got is real. He's trying to fuck me over by telling peeps I've been drinking and trying to split me up from my friends."
"Let me tell you a couple of things about resentments." The Schnoz acted as if Marty's analysis of the situation had nothing to do with reality, which irked Marty some. "Resentments have to do with expectations. Get rid of the expectation, you get rid of the resentment."
"What do you mean? I don't expect anything."
"Sure you do. You expect the coach to act in a certain way, and since he isn't acting the way you expect and isn't doing the things you expect, you're pissed at him. I would call that a resentment."
"But Mr...um... ." Marty couldn't remember the man's name. To him he had always been The Schnoz because of his big nose.
"No, buts, son. And you can call me Milton. Sounds way better than The Schnoz," he said with a hint of a smile. "George B is your sponsor, right?"
"Yeah."
"Did he ever have you read page 417?"
Marty nodded yes. "But I don't remember much about what it says."
"'Acceptance is the Answer'. There's a lot there; a whole lot there. `I must keep my magic magnifying mind on my acceptance and off my expectations.' Right there it says it. Tells you right there why you got a resentment as big as an old hippopotamus."
"But I got a problem and it won't go away if I don't do nothing about it."
Milton quoted from the book again. "'If I focus on a problem, the problem increases; if I focus on the answer, the answer increases.' Sounds to me like you gotta change some priorities."
"How do I keep from being mad at him when he's fucking...um...when he's..."
"Fuck is a perfectly good word, son. And I will tell you my second thought on resentments. You know what resentment is?"
"It's when you have expectations, like you said."
"It's also like you drinking slow poison and then expecting the other guy to die. That just isn't gonna happen. Now, you're a smart boy, or you wouldn't have called me. Tells me you take your sobriety serious. How long do you have right now?"
"A little over a year."
"Nice. Most kids your age can't put that kind of time in, and even when they do they seem to find an excuse to piss it all away. Adults too. I had seven years in, then decided I knew more than what was in that blue book. I had to go through eight years of hell before I got up the balls to come back. Take it a day at a time, and you can do it for life."
"That almost seemed too long today."
"Hell, an hour at a time is good. A minute if that's what you need. Make it something you can do and just do it. Calling me was taking care of that right when you needed to. Now, here's what I want you to do. Read that story as soon as you get home. I know you live with your sponsor, so sit down and read it with him. Pray for your coach. Get rid of your expectations. Quit drinking the poison. Now go home and read page 417...read the whole story."
Marty promised to read "Acceptance is the Answer", the story on page 417 and to talk to Mr. B. He couldn't promise more than that.
"I wouldn't expect you to. Progress, not perfection is what we do. But you made a start. Go from there."
"Thanks, um, Milton. You helped me a lot. A whole lot. I was so mad at the world."
"My help won't mean much if you don't do the work yourself."
The two of them talked for a couple of more minutes. Marty got up to leave. He stepped into the hall and looked both ways, remembering his lunch time journeys up that hall to jerk off or do more with friends in the boys' room. "How come you let us go up the hall to do stuff?" he asked.
"Let who go up the hall? When?"
"A lot of us. We wondered why you'd let us go to the main hall bathroom at lunchtime."
Milton "The Schnoz" broke out into a full smile for the first time. "Son, you have me mixed up with somebody else. I can't think of any reason I'd let rowdy middle school boys go by me up that hall. Now, get your reading done and talk to that sponsor of yours. He's a good man and you're fortunate to have him in your life."
That night Marty ate with the Bednarzycks. Lois made pork chops and mashed potatoes with green beans. While Marty enjoyed having dinner with the Bednarzycks, he wanted to learn more about cooking and making dinners for himself since he had moved into the apartment across the patio from the house. He had signed up for cooking the next semester, at first afraid he would be the only boy in the class, and then not caring if he was or not. He was pleased when Rodney signed up as well. Rodney told Marty that cooking class had to be a great place to pick up girls.
Marty and Mr. B. had a long talk about what had transpired in Coach Gardner's classroom. Mr. B. praised Marty for calling Donald and then Milton when Donald didn't answer, instead of going to Randy's house.
"You had another lesson on how little control of your life you actually have, not to mention how much maturing you need to do." Marty looked down at the floor, ashamed at how he had let his temper and emotions get the better of him. "But you also showed how much growing up you've done by calling somebody instead of turning to alcohol. I'm very proud of you." Marty looked up and gave Mr. B a shy grin.
Mr. B offered to help Marty deal with Coach Gardner, but Marty told him that this was an issue the boys would have to solve on their own, at least so far.
"It would be shame for your Team to come this far and then have a vindictive asshole crush it," Mr. B said, surprising Marty with the use of the word asshole.
"He won't. But I think we have to fight our own fight," Marty said.
"That works up to a point, Marty. But sometimes adults need to step in to help solve adult type problems."
After their chat, as well a discussion of the story on page 417, Mr. B gave Marty a much needed hug. "I love you, son. You've become a special person in my life."
"I love you, too, Sparky. I don't know where I'd be without you." George Bednarzyck knew that when Marty called him Sparky, it was his way of calling him dad without actually doing so.
Marty literally ran into Jeffrey just outside of Mr. B's study. "Are you going to read to me?" the little boy asked.
"Sounds like a plan to me," Marty said.
Jeffrey had a new book, titled "The High Skies Adventures of Blue Jay the Pirate." The eight year old was already in his pajama, ready for bed. Jeffrey got under his covers and Marty lay next to him, reading with great effect. Doing almost nightly readings had helped develop him into an excellent oral reader, who had learned how to embellish and dramatize his material on the fly.
As he always did, Jeffrey opened the front of his pajama tops and let Marty rub one hand along his smooth chest. "I love being petted while you read," he said often. But it had been awhile since they had gone any farther in bed. Jeffrey seemed to be satisfied with having his chest and belly rubbed and whatever satisfied Jeffrey satisfied Marty. Marty read until the eight year old fell quietly to sleep and then eased himself out of the bed. He was full of love for Jeffrey, for Mr. B, for Mrs. B, even for Sammy. This was his family—he knew it and they knew it. He could always feel the warmth from the love they gave him. He went off to his own bed feeling warm deep inside of himself.
<Friday, February 6, Mayfield High School>
With his team having another early evening game, Coach Gardner asked all of the freshmen who belonged to the Go to State Team to meet in his classroom after school. His scheme was starting to unfold nicely. He was going to have his cake and eat it too; the organization that brought down Coach Collins would be disbanded, the best freshmen would be playing for his program under his rules, and Marty, the biggest troublemaker in the group, would not be playing school ball, at least as a freshman. The fact that Marty was the best baseball player in the class was irrelevant to the coach. He saw Marty and the eighth graders in the organization as the chief culprits in the firing of Coach Collins. He would deal with the eighth graders next year when they became freshmen.
Marty and his freshman teammates had discussed the upcoming meeting at lunch. He told them he would not be attending the meeting, and why. "He's just going to try to piss me off again with his lies," Marty said, "and I don't want to be there to listen to them."
"I can't believe Steve became a slimy rat and agreed to say that shit about Marty," Vince said.
"I believe it," Connor said. He used to be friends with Steve and the sophomore's buddy, Crawford. But he finally got tired of their hypocrisy. "At least when I act like an asshole, there ain't no doubt about me being an asshole--everybody knows it. I don't go being all two-faced and shit and make everybody think I'm better than I am like those two do."
But even though Connor was an active member in the Go to State Group, Steve still saw him as a trustworthy ally. Connor did nothing to discourage that, but Connor knew his real friends were his teammates.
"Yeah, you believe it because Steve is an asshole. But I didn't think he was that big an asshole," Rich said
"He is when the coach promises him a varsity position if he went along with it," Connor said.
"No way Coach Gardner did that," Rich said. The revelation got him immediately angry.
"According to Crawford he did. Crawford was promised varsity time if he backed Steve up. What a couple of shit bags."
"What do you think Coach is going to tell us?" Rodney asked.
"He's going to tell you guys to kick me in the balls and leave the Go to State Team if you want to play, that's what he's going to do," Marty predicted.
"No way that will happen. We're all going to stick together," Rich said, not knowing how wrong he was.
It was Vince who brought Rich instantly down to Earth. "I just want to play baseball," he said.
The meeting in the coach's classroom was what the boys expected. Coach Gardner laid out his expectations. They could either become a total part of his program and accept it as it was being run, or they could opt not to play school ball at all. With turnouts starting in just over two weeks, they needed to make up their minds quickly. "I think by Monday you should have a pretty good idea of what you want to do," the coach told his freshmen. "In case you get any ideas, this is non-negotiable. Also, if you plan to stick up for Marty, he is not going to play ball no matter what you all decide, so don't let his position influence your decision."
"Why can't he play?" Rich asked, getting ready to stand up for his lover.
"Because he will be a liability to this program. I have it on good authority he has gone back out drinking and that he is unreliable."
"But that's not true," Rich said. Rich knew better than anybody what the status of Marty's sobriety was. Coach Gardner had no knowledge of the deep connection between Marty and Rich.
"I was told this by your fellow students, who have no reason to lie. Two of them would be his teammates and don't want to see him play because they feel he can't be trusted. The other is simply a concerned friend."
Rich was about to object when Connor piped up. "That is a fucking lie. We all know what the real story is and so do you. We don't need your fucking mind games."
"I can tell you right now, Connor, that you won't have to worry about baseball games this spring. I won't be talked to that way. You've made your decision; you and Marty can spend the spring crying in your beer."
Connor got out of his desk, threw the desk on its side and stormed out of the room. Rich, with a look of shock on his face, stood up quietly and followed him out. Vince, Jerome, and Rodney stayed. The decisions didn't need to wait until Monday; they had been made on the spot.
Rich and Connor met up with Marty in the school foyer. Marty had been chatting with Mike the Donkey and Ryan the Dawg, who were both seniors. After hearing how the meeting turned out, the Donkey shook his head.
"Somebody needs a hoofing," he said. "I almost think we'd have been better off with Coach Collins. I knew Gardner was kind of an asshole—I did not know he was a total asshole and a complete loser."
"With Vince, Jerome, and Rodney gone, the Go to State Team could fall apart," Marty said. "I mean he hasn't even started in on the eighth graders yet."
"And he won't until the school year is out. I don't think Coach Ecklund and Coach Sanders will let him push their players around," the Donkey said. "Especially Coach Sanders, who's put a lot of time into your group, plus his partner is your summer coach."
"Coach Gardner isn't exactly in your corner either," Rich said.
"Nope, but he knows better than to mess with a Donkey. He can't get rid of everybody, especially two seniors who started last year and who are good students and good citizens."
"He could get you because you and the Dawg are gay."
"He could, but he won't. That would get him into deeper shit than Coach Collins was in."
The discussion was interrupted by the other three freshmen entering the foyer. Rodney walked up to Marty, looking contrite. "Hey, I'm really sorry dude. But, like Vince said, we just want to play."
"I thought we were friends," Marty said. He turned around and walked out. Everybody could see the anger seething in him. Marty knew he wasn't supposed to hold resentments, that resentments were the biggest cause of relapse. He knew resentments were based on expectations. But he also knew that right at that moment, he didn't have what it took not to harbor a resentment against his three friends who he had expected to back him up.
<Thursday, February 12, Mayfield High School>
Marty sat with Connor and Rich at one of the lunch tables. With help from Mr. B and a couple of meetings he'd managed to calm down over the last week, but it wasn't easy. Coach Gardner, along with Vince, Jerome, and Rodney still sat at the top of his resentment list.
The Go to State Team, or what was left of it, had met the night before. Marty's thoughts wandered back to the meeting. He thought about how the main topic of discussion affected the baseball team. He knew they had to come up with a plan to reveal what Coach Gardner was up to. The group had come up with gossip about the coach, but nobody had a real plan about what to do about it.
All of the eighth graders involved with the group attended that meeting, along with Justin, Chandler, Korey, and Mikey from the lower grades. Mr. B, Noah's father, and Hunter's father, who were three of their adult board advisors, also attended. It was agreed that the group would continue as it had been and all of the eighth graders would continue to play for the Falcons, along with some of the younger players. Those who were not already members would be invited to join the group. What they didn't know was that the eighth graders were about to have problems of their own.
"Gardner can't do anything to us until we get to high school," Eric observed.
"That gives us a year to try to work things out," Mr. B said. "I know that doesn't help Marty, Connor, and Rich at the moment."
"It's cool," Marty said. "We all need to do what we can to help everybody against Coach Hitler." Mr. B chided Marty for his choice of name, but Marty didn't back down.
"I just don't see how he can keep an entire class from playing," Seth McCall, Noah's father said, referring to the eighth graders.
"If he does, I think the time will come for some parental pressure and legal action," Mr. B said. "What did your parents say to Coach Gardner?" he asked Rich.
"That he had no reason to keep me from playing. He told them I made the choice not to play by walking out of the meeting." Rich took a deep breath. He did not like being caught in the middle of the ongoing soap opera, but there didn't seem to be much he could do about it. He was not about to betray the boy he loved, and his parents knew it and supported him. "They're going to talk to the AD and to the principal on Monday, but I think those two will back Coach...," Rich grinned and said, "...Hitler."
Connor, Rich, and Marty laughed over that while they ate their lunches. "What's with Gardner and Sara Collins?" Connor asked.
"What do you mean?" Rich asked.
"She's always hanging around him," Connor said. "I saw her all wrapped around him once out in the parking lot after basketball practice. She got in the car and rode home with him."
"What were you doing around the school that late? You don't play hoops," Marty said.
"I was serving my serious detention time," Connor said with a grin. "I swear I had no idea how my fist made contact with Steve's stomach, but it did." Rich and Marty both knew that there had been a bit of an altercation outside of the school on Monday involving Connor and Steve, and they both knew what it was about.
"You know, now that you mention it, when I had that meeting with Coach, Sara came into his room while I was leaving and called him Gary. I was so mad it didn't mean anything to me. But now it does."
"Do you think that maybe Coach is screwing her? And that's why she's saying whatever he tells her to because he's got a big cock and she loves taking it?" Connor wondered.
"Damn, you've got a dirty mind, Connor." Rich said. "You think everything is about sex."
"You mean it isn't? It's sure looking like that with those two."
"If she was, Coach Gardner would be toast, instantly," Marty said. "Even he's not that stupid. But how do we prove it? And how do we do it before baseball starts?"
"We have less than two weeks before that happens, not that it affects us any," Rich said.
"We all know this is a fucking little burg and nothing stays secret forever. There has to be away to fry his ass," Marty said. Marty was thinking about what The Schnoz had said, about living in the solution. This might be exactly the solution they had been looking for.
"Do you mean like you and Rich not being a secret?" Connor said with a leer.
"Shit. Does everybody know about us?"
"No. Just me and Rodney, and we got no proof. It's all circumcised evidence," Connor said. "But you two might as well join the Donkey and the Dawg and come out."
"It's circumstantial evidence," Rich said.
Marty ignored Connor's advice and said, "Whatever. It's just like what we have on Coach and Sara, circumstantial. Only in our case, we need some real evidence."
They spent the rest of lunch involved in their own scheming as to how to procure the evidence they needed. For the first time they talked about turning their fate over to the adults on the Team's board. But as much as they liked and respected those adults, they wanted to decide their own fates. They just needed to find a way to do it. What they didn't know was that fate was about to step in and give them some much needed help.
Next: A Matter of Integrity