Stupid Boy: Senior Year - Spring 10

Chapter 10 -- Quarter Beers

Saturday February 18

Duke and I came back from our run to find Fritz drinking coffee with my parents. Peggy had taken the boys to Greg's, where Angie had agreed to watch them so Peggy could go to a study group session. When I'd heard about it, I was amazed that college kids would get together that early in the day on a weekend. I suspected that she might be meeting a guy for breakfast, but decided not to say anything about it.

"I don't know why we don't just go ahead and plant trackers in their little butts and be done with it. If any of them turn out like their father, they'll be running off naked," Mom said.

"Naked?" Fritz asked me.

I ignored them and began to make breakfast. According to my mom, I'd been an exhibitionist, starting at an early age.

Fritz had been searching for GPS trackers for the little ones. We figured it was only a matter of time before one of them got lost or kidnapped, God forbid.

I heard the back door open. Duke, our trusty guard dog, raised his head and then flopped back down to continue his post-run nap. When I saw his lack of reaction, I stuck my head back into the refrigerator because it was probably Cassidy.

"What are we making?" Cassidy asked as she came up behind me and peeked over my shoulder to see what we had to use for breakfast.

"We could make a frittata. It looks like Melanie roasted some veggies for us to use this weekend."

I had started to become a fan of roasted vegetables, which intensified their flavors. I especially liked tomatoes done that way. Recently, the ones at the grocery stores weren't that great. I expect it was because they didn't get a chance to ripen on the vine, robbing them of flavor.

"That sounds a little complicated. I should probably get your dad to show me how to make it," Cassidy decided.

My dad had been teaching her to cook like he'd done for Greg and me. Far be it from me to interfere in that. Dad was a good sport and took my place while I made myself a cup of tea. When it was ready, I joined Mom and Fritz at the table. He had three little watches laid out.

"I was thinking these would be better for Greg's kids because they're older. You download an app on your phone, and you can see where they are. The watch has an 'SOS' button that allows the child to call you if needed," Fritz explained.

"If Kyle and Mac figure that out ..." I left the rest unsaid.

Their idea of an emergency and mine were probably different. Fortunately, the call would go to either my brother or his wife and not me. I could just see getting a call from Mac saying she needed to ride her pony.

"It also allows you to create what they call 'security fences.' You can designate areas that are safe, like their daycare. If they leave the area, you're alerted," Fritz explained.

"What about mine?" I asked about my five younger ones.

"Coby has been a problem," Fritz said, shaking his head. "He seems to figure out how to take them off."

Fritz had been testing ideas. If it survived my son, we would have our winner.

"As I said, we should just shoot a tracker into his butt," Mom suggested again.

"I'm not sure that would be safe," I said to voice my concern, once again, on the matter.

"Maybe we put one in you to test it," Cassidy said to offer her unwanted advice.

"Nope, not happening."

Fritz reached inside his bag and pulled out two different trackers. The first looked like security tags you saw on clothes, so they couldn't be shoplifted, and the second was a baggy full of rice.

"This one has a magnetic lock that takes a special tool to remove. Coby won't be able to puzzle it out," Fritz said proudly.

We'd see.

"What's the rice?" I asked.

"Backup. These are tiny trackers that we will sew into their clothes, jackets, backpacks, shoes, and the like. If one of them is kidnapped, they'll remove any obvious tracking devices. The rice-like ones don't have the range and features of the larger models. Another advantage of the snap-on one is that, unlike the others, it uses a satellite phone system, so you don't have to rely on cellular service for GPS tracking. It also lets you listen in, like a baby monitor, so that you can check up on them," Fritz explained.

I foresaw that Carol would need this when she discovered boys, so I could monitor her activities. Hopefully, that discovery wouldn't happen until she was thirty and out of the house.

"We need to clip one onto David," Dad said.

"Stay out of this, Old Man," I shot back, suddenly seeing the downside of the eavesdropping device.

It's funny how your perspective makes you view everything differently. Honestly, though, until my kids were older, I wouldn't have felt bad about checking in on them.

"We already record him 24/7," Fritz said, reminding us of the bodycams and surveillance cameras in the house.

The only saving grace with that was that Fritz and his team would never 'leak' anything to my parents. Heck, they wouldn't give me the video of when I found Jill. I'd been told they'd actually deleted it since she was underage.

"I also want to talk to you about getting more drones. I want to install them here at the house, the farm, your Malibu home, and I'd like to get them for Rita James' two properties."

"We need to talk to Darius and see if he wants to start making some money doing this," I suggested.

That reminded me to call Brook's grandmother and discuss moving the drone project forward. I hadn't shared with her what his latest iteration of the 'flock of drones' was capable of. I bet that Grace would want a flock at her place in Cincinnati, as would several of her relatives who had security concerns.

My flock was currently on chargers in my apartment because Paul and Cassidy had been 'working' with them. Those two were worse than Dare. They seemed to spend more time goofing off than on actual security work when it came to the drones.

If Dare wasn't game, we wanted a fallback plan for creating them. Actually, if Dare turned us down, I would have to check to make sure he wasn't sick or something.

"I bet he has already figured out more ways to improve them," Fritz guessed.

"I'm sure it involves more Bitcoins."

"What are you talking about?" Mom asked, latching onto the Bitcoin comment.

"Dare met this professor from State who put him in touch with some people who live overseas. It's easier to pay them in Bitcoins," I explained.

"People really do that?" Dad asked. "I thought it was risky."

"So far, we've been lucky. Megan has been overseeing it," I said to assure my dad. "Besides, it hasn't been more than I was willing to risk."

Mom gave me a hard look. I would bet a beach house that the amount she was willing to risk was much smaller than mine.

"The professor disappeared," Fritz said.

"Hunter?" I asked, suddenly concerned.

"Well, 'disappeared' might be too strong. Hunter suddenly turned in his resignation and left State. When I tried to check on him, I got a visit from the FBI. They made it clear that further inquiries weren't a good idea," Fritz shared.

"Back up and explain all this. You aren't mixed up with the FBI again, are you?" Mom asked.

I spent the rest of breakfast explaining how Hunter had helped Dare with the drones. The main reason I didn't freak out was that Hunter hadn't given off any signs of being someone to worry about. It did worry me when he couldn't give me straight answers. I guessed that he was involved in something classified. The logical conclusion was that he was off working on a top-secret project. That made my inner geek do a little happy dance. It was why I looked forward to playing Ian Bond. That was the closest I would ever come to being a secret agent.

---

Cassidy and I had finished with our secret-agent training for the movie, so she wanted to get me into the dojo. I'd been lax in my martial-arts exercises for the last several months, having cut back when I hurt the recruit's father in Oklahoma. I'd heard through the grapevine that the kid had ended up going to Rice University in Houston. Oklahoma had pulled their offer after his father had acted up.

I knew it was going to be a long day when Cassidy got on me as soon as we started doing our forms.

"Bend your knees, straighten your back, and lift your elbow. You've gotten sloppy," she observed.

I predicted that before we finished, I was in for a butt-kicking to remind me that I should train more often.

"We should do something Sunday night. You need to get out of the house," I suggested to break the building tension.

"Concentrate," Cassidy warned.

"How about bowling? We could get a group of people together ..." I started and suddenly found myself on my back.

That would leave a mark.

"This is my time. I expect you to respect that," Cassidy said, sounding tough.

I leg-swept her, and she landed on me. I proceeded to tickle her.

"David!" she barked as she squirmed to get away.

She didn't try too hard because I didn't end up in extreme pain or bleeding. She lost her bossy teacher cred when she giggled.

Then she realized what I'd done and jabbed me under the arm.

"Ow!"

She kissed my nose, and we got back to it. She lightened up, but as predicted, I got an ass-kicking. I really did need to practice more to maintain my edge.

---

I'd decided I would make dinner for the grandmothers who were coming over to help watch the little ones. Since Mom and Dad were going out, I was able to make something with carbs. Lasagna with garlic bread sounded like a solid plan. That way, I would have leftovers I could take to school for lunch.

I decided against just making a salad to go with it. Melanie had bought a large bag of fresh green beans, and Mary had shared a recipe with me that I wanted to try. It was fried in a pan with bacon and garlic to give it some color. Then you added chicken stock to finish and topped the whole thing with parmesan cheese.

I'd made two lasagnas, one with the roasted vegetables and the other with meatballs for Greg. He contended that lasagna shouldn't be ruined with green stuff.

Dad came into the kitchen, sniffing like Duke does when bacon starts to cook.

"What are you making?"

"Lasagna," I said and then whispered conspiratorially. "There'll be leftovers."

"I heard that. That's not on your diet, Rob," Mom said, sauntering in.

She wore a cute dress. It looked like Dad would be spending some money tonight if her attire was indicative of the class of place he was taking her. He had on a sports coat.

"Where are you guys going?" I asked.

"The country club. Don't wait up for us," Mom said as she dragged my dad out the door.

Everyone began to arrive. My grandmother had brought Yelena, whom we were reintroducing to the idea of grandkids, for when Yuri finally got busy. Lacy, Pam's mom, came next. She volunteered to make a Caprese salad to help out. Both of Little David's grandmas came. They'd been getting along better over time. Mitch still didn't want anything to do with his son, but his mom did, so I invited her.

The back door crashed open, startling my guard dog.

"Unca David! Unca David! Come help," Mac called.

Worried something was wrong, I ran to the back door, only to find that Ashley had just arrived. Greg and Angie were helping her get Carol, Allen, and Dawson out of their car seats as Kyle and Nate supervised. Greg handed me Carol, who grabbed my neck and gave me a big, slobbery kiss. We'd been teaching them about kisses, and I wondered if it was such a good idea as I wiped the wet spot she'd left.

I noticed that both Angie and Ashley wore skimpy dresses.

"Where do you two think you're going dressed like that?" I asked in my best judgmental dad voice.

"I asked the same thing," Greg said.

Ashley looked a little worried. Angie, not at all.

"Ignore them. They have SDS," Angie told Ashley.

"SDS?" Ashley asked.

"Swinging Dick Syndrome."

Greg and I ignored Angie. Peggy came outside and smoothed down her short skirt while looking worried.

"Do you think this is too short?" she asked.

"Yes/No," was said simultaneously by me/Angie.

"Quit being so bossy," Angie said, glaring at me.

"You could all come in and eat. There's plenty of food," I offered.

"Not on your life," Peggy said and then turned to the girls. "It smells delicious, but we can have some when we get in later."

I started to wonder whether my leftovers would survive if they came back drunk and hungry. I might have to hide some of the lasagna if I wanted to take it for lunch.

"Let's go before he tries something else to get us to stay," Angie said.

I waggled my eyebrows at her. Greg slugged me in the arm to remind me she was married. Angie handed me Dawson and then left us to babysit while they went to dinner and clubbing for a girls' night out.

---

I'd had the brilliant notion of calling Greg and Ms. Lawrie, our nanny, to come to help. She'd worked at our daycare before we hired her, and could juggle all the little ones with ease. Greg had more experience than I did with interpreting 'kid speak.' An example was when Coby grunted and held out a hand, Greg knew it meant the ball he was chewing on had rolled away. First of all, gross! Because it was Duke's ball. How Greg deciphered what Coby wanted filled me with awe.

With the two of them busy watching the kids, Lacy and my grandmother were able to go to the basement and raid the wine racks. The grandmothers relaxed and had a glass while I finished preparing dinner. Frankly, when I had my grandkids, this was how I wanted to watch them.

Dinner was a success. The only incident was that Allen somehow dumped his juice on his head and needed a bath. Fortunately, mine were all about the same size. I borrowed some of Coby's clothes to change my dirty boy.

While I gave him a bath, the grandmothers cleaned the kitchen for me. When I came down, Grandma Dawson pulled me aside.

"Mayor Duke has a volunteer project I was hoping you could help out with."

"Sure."

"Great," she said and thrust a piece of paper with an address on it into my hand. "If you could get it taken care of before Monday, that would be ideal."

Her little smile told me I'd been had. I trusted my grandmother not to take too much advantage of me, or I wouldn't have agreed so readily.

"I might need a few details," I suggested.

"Duke announced a beautification initiative yesterday," she said, and left me still hanging.

"First I'm hearing of it," I admitted.

It cracked me up that she always attributed everything to our mayor, who Dawson was currently using as a climbing structure. He'd made some improvements to the town. The first was clearing up all the unpaid city fines by allowing people to drop off food items that were donated to charities. They'd also fenced off an area at the park close to my house for a dog park.

"We have some run-down properties that the city has decided are eyesores. I looked through the list, and there are a handful of properties where the occupants can't afford to make the necessary improvements. I thought that you might be able to help them so we don't have to levy fines," Grandma Dawson explained.

"When you say help out ..."

"I mean, volunteer your time to help clean up. Like at the address I gave you. Sidney Hytong is an elderly man on a fixed income who isn't ready to go to a nursing home. His yard has been neglected for the past couple of years because he isn't able."

"How bad is it?" I asked.

"Well, we've sent out a lot of notices to people, but I don't think anyone has received more than Sidney's 43. I talked to Margaret Rice, and she said that you can borrow what you need from the city. Mike Perovich suggested that you would need a brush hog to knock it down and a truck to take the debris to the dump. Oh, and a power washer," she said with a straight face.

This project started to sound like more than a one-man job. Then I remembered my suggestion to Cassidy from earlier in the day. What if I got a group of my friends together to help, and then we went bowling afterward to make a day of it? It might be fun to do some good and then hang out.

I smiled when I remembered what Hunter Jacobs had told me. I could solve problems if I took a step back to see the big picture--this approach fit well with enjoying my senior year, spending time with my friends, and also doing good.

"Okay," I said, without elaboration.

Grandma looked shocked. I expect she thought I would push back when she started to list off all the equipment I would need.

"I'll let Margaret know and have her load up a truck with everything you need. What time should I say you'll be by?"

"After church. How about I pick it up around noon?" I suggested.

"Okay. When you're close to finishing, give me a call. The mayor will want to swing by and inspect the results."

This time, Grandma couldn't keep a straight face. I stuck my tongue out at her and left her to call whoever she needed to get me the tools for the job.

I knew exactly who to call. Several of them owed me for Valentine's Day.

---

When the kids had wound down and the grandmothers had finished off another bottle of wine, Greg and I got a chance to talk.

"How goes Darius's education?" I asked.

I'd asked my brother to help Dare learn about girls, just as he'd taught me freshman year.

"You owe me big for that one."

"I considered us even when I got Joey to be your personal trainer," I fired back.

"It might have been fine if everyone hadn't horned in."

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

"Mom invited everyone at her office, including Megan, and all your baby mamas. Angie has even been making noise about working out in the mornings," he complained.

"But you get to see Joey each morning," I reminded him.

"Yeah," he admitted. "Thanks for that. I just can't imagine what all that is costing you."

"Honestly, I don't care what it costs if it means you and Dad are healthy."

"I appreciate it. I hadn't realized how much weight I'd gained. Angie has me on the same diet as Dad to get the pounds off," Greg shared.

"I won't tell her about the lasagna then," I assured him.

He just laughed. I'd forgotten he had three rug rats who would let that slip. We had no secrets with them around.

---

Sunday February 19

Mom and I went to early church and then picked up Dad for brunch at Granny's West. I almost felt sorry for him when I had to eat his cinnamon roll. Almost. When I got home, Cassidy looked unhappy.

"What's eating you?" I asked as I got into the Demon's passenger seat.

"Do we really have to volunteer today?" she asked.

"It'll make you a better person."

She didn't think too much of my reasoning. We picked up Dare and then Chrissy. They were a little too happy for Cassidy's mood, which put a smile on my face.

Dare impressed me when he sensed her bad mood. He tentatively leaned over the back seat to show me his phone. I burst out laughing when I saw his calendar: it noted when Cassidy's period would start, which was today. She glared at me, and I shut up. The little dumbass showed Chrissy.

"I have some Midol if you need it," Chrissy told Cassidy.

It was a good thing we were all strapped in because the tires smoked when she slammed on the brakes. I heard her heavy breathing as she struggled to get herself under control.

"Going on the pill is supposed to help PMS," Dare offered.

"Bless his heart," I said in my best impersonation of Grandma Felton when I said something that set my mom off. I'd learned from some of my Oklahoman Team USA baseball friends that when a Southern woman says, "Bless your heart," it translates to, "You're an idiot."

Luckily for all of us, Cassidy found the humor in that and began to giggle. It wasn't a fun giggle, more the unhinged variety, which made the hairs on my neck stand up. Chrissy handed me the bottle of Midol. Cassidy stopped her giggling for a moment and gave me an icy stare. My expression must have been funny because she started again, uncontrollably. I wondered if the mental hospital that Tracy stayed in for her depression took walk-ins for PMSing teens.

---

Upon our arrival, we discovered everyone had waited out front. My group designated me to speak with the homeowner. Sidney Hytong was an elderly man with leathery skin, shiny gray hair, and beady brown eyes. He answered the front door in a pair of plaid boxers and a 'wife-beater' undershirt with food stains on it. My first impression of the man was that he gave me the creeps. I would guess he sported a nasty frown 24/7 and always reeked of stinky old-man sweat. He looked at me and then at my friends, frowning even more.

"What do you brats want?"

"We're here to clean up your yard so you don't get fined by the city," I answered patiently.

"I pay my taxes, and you should never have let my property get like this," he barked.

"That's not how it works. The government doesn't keep your lawn cut and yard clean because you pay taxes," I said, shocked at his attitude.

"I don't appreciate you lecturing me when you're wrong. I've lived a long life, and I'm entitled to receive care. What I don't need is a bunch of kids bothering me," he said.

I considered calling Cassidy up to the porch and letting her talk to him. Her current mood and mine started to match.

"Are you saying you don't want us to clean up your yard and just let the city fine you?" I asked.

His eyes narrowed, and he got a calculating look.

"Are you trying to con me? What's this going to cost?" Mr. Hytong asked.

"We're volunteers. It won't cost you a dime," I assured him.

"I'll be watching you. If you do a bad job, I'll call the police and have you all arrested," he threatened.

If I hadn't promised my grandmother, I would have left. I almost did anyway when Mr. Hytong slammed the door in my face. His nasty attitude and sense of entitlement rubbed me the wrong way. He should appreciate that we had reached out to help. It was much better than the alternative, where the city fined him and forced him to pay to have his yard cleaned up.

Maybe 'cleaned up' understated the magnitude of the job needed. I'd wondered when Grandma Dawson had mentioned a brush hog. They were typically used to clear land that was overgrown to the point you couldn't get a lawnmower to cut it. I'd used one on my uncle's farm to reclaim acreage for pasture. Mr. Hytong's yard was full of weeds over waist high. Small trees had also sprouted, making it impossible just to mow.

Another problem was that people had used his lot as a place to dump their garbage. We put Yuri, Roc, and Phil in charge of picking up the trash. Since I'd run a bush hog before, I was tasked with cutting down the yard so that Wolf could use his lawnmower. Tim took charge of Dare and Chrissy, and they helped him trim back the bushes that had gotten out of control. Cassidy returned to the car to take a nap.

Thankfully, it was February, and all the weeds were dead, making it easier to cut them all down. Wolf followed behind me and bagged up anything too big for his mower to chop up. We made the executive decision not to rake the yard. Wolf ran his mower over it a couple of times, and nature would turn the clippings into much-needed lawn fertilizer. I got the power washer out and began cleaning the hard surfaces. Mr. Hytong's sidewalks and drive were black with mold.

---

When we were almost done, I called my grandmother so Mayor Duke could come to inspect our work. I should have known that she would show up with the press to highlight the excellent work our mayor was doing. I was equally impressed when the cops arrived and was glad to see my favorite policeman, Billy.

While my grandma and I went to talk to Billy, Duke greeted all the workers to show his appreciation. Then again, it might have been that he wanted his ears rubbed.

Billy wasn't happy when he saw a couple of local reporters follow us.

"Hey, good to see you," I said in greeting.

"We got a call about kids trashing Mr. Hytong's yard. I take it you're the chief vandal?" Billy asked.

I rolled my eyes because the crazy old man was on my last nerve. My grandmother stepped in before I said what I really thought. She explained what was going on. Billy then walked up to the house to deal with the recipient of our free work.

My grandmother talked to the press and then gathered us all around for a group photo with our esteemed mayor. Cassidy jumped right into the middle of the group picture. Her contribution was not hurting anyone while she took a nap.

As we were about to leave, Billy came to find my grandmother and me, shaking his head.

"After I explained that I wasn't going to arrest you all, he had the nerve to ask when you would be back to fix stuff around the house. 'I pay my taxes,'" Billy said as he did air quotes around Mr. Hytong's rant.

"Sounds like someone needs to do a wellness check," Grandma Dawson suggested to Billy.

"You're probably right," he admitted. "I'll tell the appropriate folks at the station, and they'll have someone come evaluate him."

There were safeguards in place for individuals who were no longer able to care for themselves. The problem was that people like Mr. Hytong flew under the radar because they were shut-ins or had very little interaction with others. I would feel sorry for him if he weren't such an unpleasant person.

I thanked Billy for not arresting us and drove home to take a shower.

---

I invited everyone who helped with the volunteer work today to go bowling tonight. I hadn't gone bowling in a long time. I also asked Gina, Pam, and Tracy so my dateless guys--Phil, Tim, and Wolf--would have someone to hang out with.

Cassidy had declared me perfectly safe and bailed on her security duties for the rest of the day. With her PMSing, I made the executive decision to cover for her and risk an outing. If I'd been anywhere else, like LA or New York, I wouldn't have done it.

The person I worried about a little was Lisa Felton; I'd invited her as my date. While I was willing to date her regardless of my friends' opinions, it would be better if they accepted her. I hoped that a group outing like this would make it easier.

We were going to the Bulldog Bowl, which had seen better days. Back in my grandmother's day, bowling was a big thing. Dad had told me that his mom had belonged to a women's league when they were kids.

Over the past several years, bowling alleys have been closing. There were exceptions, though. When I'd spent time in Chicago, I'd been to a place that was a combination bowling alley, bar, and laundromat. It was the place to go on Friday and Saturday nights. They'd geared themselves to young single professionals and provided a unique way to meet other singles.

When we got there, we were the only ones bowling. There were a few older people in the bar.

"This is kind of sad," Lisa observed.

I shrugged.

"I never promised going out with me was going to be fun."

"You keep taking me to dives like this, and I'll have to agree with you," she said and then gave me a dick-hardening look. "Of course, this means you have to make it up to me."

"Keep it up, and we'll be skipping bowling," I threatened.

"Don't tempt me like that," she fired back.

I could already tell I was going to enjoy dating Lisa.

Then I spotted Dare coming in with Chrissy ... and, wait for it ... his mom.

"Hold that thought," I said and pointed at Dare's mom. "I have to go deal with that."

I handed Lisa money to reserve the lanes and get us snacks.

"Dr. Rossetti," I said in greeting.

"David," she said, and then had the presence to look embarrassed. "When I saw the outside, I wanted to make sure it was safe for them to come in."

I did see her point. I hadn't realized how run-down the place had become. It wouldn't be long before they shut the doors unless they did something to reinvent themselves.

"I'll make sure Dare doesn't touch anything he shouldn't," I teased.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"Thank you. You don't know how much you've helped him. I'll leave him in your capable hands," Dr. Rossetti said and turned to leave.

"Hang on. Just so we're clear, I'm not babysitting Dare. If he messes up, it's on him."

She smiled at me.

"But I know you won't let anyone pick on him. If he should 'mess up,' it might be good for him," Dr. Rossetti said and then left.

I got my shoes and picked out a bowling ball. I quickly discovered that they didn't have any balls that fit my hand. I picked the best one and found that Lisa had claimed four lanes. I was a little confused when I found ten 10-ounce beers on a tray.

"Where did you get that?" I asked.

"They have a special on Sunday nights. If you bowl, it's quarter-beer night," she explained.

"And they sold it to you?" I asked.

"They didn't even ask."

I started to get a bad feeling. If the high school crowd figured out they had quarter beers and didn't card ... It didn't take too great an effort to connect the dots to that train wreck. Then again, I wanted to make the most of my senior year.

Gack!

It was skunked beer; it had a wet-cardboard taste to it. Lisa tried a sip and wrinkled her nose.

"We should buy a few good beers before we start drinking this," she suggested.

I wasn't sure how much I would have to drink to not gag on that. And I had planned to have only one or two to be social, as I was in training.

"Yeah. Go get something decent," I said.

I noticed she hadn't brought me any change. She had money to spring for something better.

While she was away, everyone else began to arrive.

"Dude," Tim said in shock when he saw the beer.

I flipped him off. He was confused because I never drank when training.

Wolf came up and smiled.

"You read my mind. I need a beer after today," he said.

I had a big grin when I saw their faces as they tasted it. They looked at it and then at each other, shrugging. I cringed when they downed their first one.

"It'll taste okay after a few," Wolf said sagely.

Lisa came back and handed me a bottle of beer.

"They didn't card you?" Tim asked.

"No, and if you're bowling, they're having a special. Those cost a quarter each," Lisa shared.

So much for this being a secret. Tim took a picture of the tray of beers and posted it on social media. I tried to stop him, but he reminded me that baseball started on Tuesday. Once that happened, Moose would enforce the no-drinking rule. Plus, tomorrow was President's Day--meaning no school. It looked like we were having one last party before the season began.

---

Within an hour, the bowling alley was packed. By the second hour, parents began to arrive. How do I know that? Guess ...

Yep. My mom sat down beside me, catching me completely by surprise. It sucked that she was social-media savvy. Either that, or someone like Angie had clued her in to what we were up to.

"Somehow, I knew you would be in the center of all this," she said.

I just pulled a Dawson and blinked at her.

"Aren't you going to get me a beer?" she asked.

I reached behind me and grabbed a new beer out of the bucket. Lisa had discovered that they sold a bucket of six decent beers for ten bucks. I sat in stunned silence as my mom took a long draw, and then we locked eyes.

"Everyone who is drinking is not driving. You are responsible for collecting the car keys. There will be rides for everyone in ..." she checked her watch, "two hours."

I'd just entered some kind of alternate universe where my mom was cool with having a beer with me. I might need another one to help wrap my brain around that.

She gathered all the other parents, and they went to the bar. What they didn't see wouldn't get them put in jail. I put Phil, Yuri, and Roc in charge of the car keys, giving up mine first, and then kicked back to enjoy my friends and my date with Lisa.

---

Monday February 20

When my parents had shown up last night and made everyone who was drinking turn in their car keys, I decided to have a few more beers. I shouldn't have been surprised when I felt a little hungover when I woke up.

Duke had finally trained me, so he now slept on my bed at night. I rolled over and put my arm around him to give him a chest rub.

"How about we skip running this morning?" I asked him.

He looked up at me, and his tail wagged in agreement.

I rolled out of bed and stepped carefully to the bathroom, where I took a couple of aspirin before getting into the shower. When it was hot, I began to soap up and enjoy the sensation as I started to turn human again.

I still had a small smile on my face as I thought about Dare's mom. Later in the night, she'd come to pick up Dare and Chrissy and found him drinking a beer. Apparently, neither of the Rossettis had been schooled in how to handle a situation where, in her book, he had misbehaved.

Dr. Rossetti finally decided that he needed a good scolding, and Dare looked like he might start to cry. Brook was right; he needed to be toughened up. If my mom ever took him to task, Dare would undoubtedly end up in the same mental health facility I planned to send Cassidy to.

The best part had happened when his girlfriend had stood up for him. Evidently, this wasn't Chrissy's first rodeo as far as getting into trouble because she calmly talked to both Dare and his mom. When she was done, mom and son hugged it out. It seemed that Chrissy was a good fit for both of them.

Lisa had taken on my role as social butterfly. Word was out that she was my date, and my friends made an effort not to be so judgmental. I knew all would be well when she and Gina had a long, animated discussion, and both were smiling when they finished.

Speaking of Gina, she finally laid claim to Wolf. Tim had joined me to advise me that it had finally happened.

"I give it two weeks," Tim predicted.

"I don't know. The Bickersons have a better shot than most. They already know how to argue with each other," I observed.

I'd nicknamed them that because they bickered back and forth. I'd heard my grandmother use the term before, referring to an arguing couple. When I asked her about it, she said she didn't know exactly where it came from, but her parents had used it. I looked it up, and it was from an old-time radio show before television was invented.

"I hate to ask," Tim started to change the subject, "but would you be okay if I asked Pam out?"

"You're asking me that one week after you cheated on Tami, and she kicked you to the curb?" I asked, doing the one-eyebrow-raised look.

"Forget I asked."

"No, no. Pam is her own person, and I don't control who she dates. Just be aware that if you go two-for-two hurting girls I care about, I will string you up."

"I promise not to do anything that'll make you mad," Tim assured me.

I knew that Tim had made a mistake, but deep down, he really was a good guy. If he weren't, I would never have allowed him to date Tami. Of all the guys I knew at Lincoln High, Tim was the one I would trust with Pam. I also expected that Pam would see it for what it was: two friends dating until school ended. She was headed back to California for college, and Tim planned to go to Michigan if we could resolve the Mike situation. So, this relationship had a limited shelf life.

I got out of the shower and dried off.

I had to take care of talking to the Michigan coaches today. Ty had spoken to them on Friday, so they'd had enough time to think about it. I wanted to know if we needed to restart the recruiting process or if we could finally conclude it.

---

I called Coach Haber's direct line, and when he didn't answer right away, it transferred me to the receptionist.

"University of Michigan Football Offices, how may I direct your call?" a pleasant female voice asked.

"Coach Haber, please."

"May I ask who's calling?"

"David Dawson."

"Oh, hey, David. He's having a coaches meeting. Let me see if he's done or not," she said, and put me on hold.

I listened to the University of Michigan fight song as I waited.

"David, Coach Title. Coach Haber asked me to straighten you out."

'Straighten me out?' I thought.

"Maybe I should talk to Coach Haber," I said before I got mad.

"David, you need to get used to something. Coach Haber is a busy man, and you'll have to work with me frequently. So, if you have an issue with something, it's me you have to talk to," he said to explain the chain of command.

Coach Title was the offensive coordinator for Michigan. I realized I would have to work with him on an ongoing basis once I got to Michigan. If that were the case, I would suck it up and discuss my issue with Mike.

"I wanted to discuss the problem I'm having with Mike Herndon," I started.

"David, let me give you a piece of advice. Ty Wilson called and said you weren't happy with Mike. First of all, in the future, man up and don't have others do your complaining. Secondly, college ball is not the same as high school. There will be some players that you don't necessarily like at first. What you'll find is that once you start working with them daily, with the goal of winning, you will soon forget your differences.

"We have a culture at the University of Michigan of working as a team. We'll help you get your thinking right if you believe you're going to come in and hold a grudge against a teammate. It simply won't be tolerated for team chemistry's sake. Am I clear?" Coach Title asked.

"So, you're not interested in knowing exactly what the problem is that we have with each other?" I asked.

"When I talked to Mike, he told me you were just upset that he was interested in a girl he met at a party. I don't really give a shit about some girl. I give a shit about the University of Michigan and what it takes to win football games. Some girl should be the least of your worries. There are plenty to go around," Coach Title said.

"Sir, I think you've been misled. There is quite a bit more going on between Mike Herndon and me than just some girl."

"Let me stop you right there. I don't care," he said, shocking me. "High school bullshit doesn't matter to me. You'll play with him on the team and like it."

"No, I won't."

"Son, I hate to break it to you, but you don't have a choice in the matter. The sooner you figure out that you're not running the football team, the better. Everyone on the team was the big man on campus in high school. They might even think they're entitled to make suggestions. When you get to campus, you'll be just one of 85 scholarship players, all equal. You're nothing special," Coach Title explained.

He should have shared his feelings during the recruiting process. I'm sure everyone would rush to sign up when told they weren't 'anything special.'

"Actually, Coach Title, I do have a choice. I can choose to play ball somewhere else."

He laughed, which surprised me.

"If you do, you'll lose a year of eligibility. Plus, you'll be labeled a troublemaker," Coach Title threatened.

I didn't need to think about this any longer. Even if they fixed it so that Mike wouldn't play at Michigan, I was never going to have Coach Title as my coach. He'd made an ass out of himself at the Michigan camp held at Lincoln High, and now he showed his true colors once again. The guy was a jerk.

"Thank you for the clarification," I said.

"I'm glad we could clear that up. Is there anything else you wanted?"

"Yes. I wanted to thank you and the University of Michigan for offering me a scholarship to play football. It saddens me to say that I will be playing elsewhere next year. I want to wish you and Mike the best of luck. If he's an example of what your team is like, I won't be associated with it," I said.

I tried to sound as businesslike as possible, even though I was seething.

"I thought you understood. What part of 'you signed a letter of intent' did you not get?" Coach Title asked.

"I never signed one. I just verbally committed."

"... Oh."

"Please tell Coach Haber how helpful you've been," I said as my parting shot and hung up.

Well, I might have dodged a bullet on that one.

---

I had twenty minutes to step back and consider my options before I received the expected call from the head coach at Michigan.

"I just received some disturbing news and wanted to confirm it with you. Did you just pull your commitment?" Coach Haber asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Is there some way we can fix this?"

"Short of firing Coach Title and pulling Mike Herndon's scholarship?" I asked.

"Short of that," he admitted.

"Then, no."

"Do you have any idea where you plan to go to school?" he asked.

"I might not go to college. I might just see about entering the Major League Baseball draft," I admitted to what I was considering.

"Might I ask one favor?" he asked.

"You can ask," I said, not committing to anything.

"Will you let Wolf Tams and Tim Foresee make up their own minds?"

"They always do, but I will give you a heads-up. They don't like Mike, either."

"Duly noted. I'm starting to think we might have made a mistake," Coach Haber shared.

"Could be," I said, and then added, "Coach, thank you for offering me. I was excited to play ball at Michigan and for you. I believe you're on the right track, and if I play college football, just know that I will enjoy putting a beating on you."

He barked out a laugh.

"I bet you will. Who knows, you might end up playing for me before it's all done. I hope we will remain in touch. I also hope you decide to play football. You have a gift, and it would be a shame if you didn't. I say that even if you do go to our hated rival," Coach Haber said, putting a smile on my face.

Of course, he was talking about Ohio State.

"Thanks, Coach," I said and rang off.

---

Tuesday February 21

I'd held off talking to Wolf, Tim, and Ty about my talk with Coach Title because I wanted to make sure I felt the same way this morning. During PE, I got us excused so we could talk. We grabbed one of the coaches' rooms.

"I talked to Coach Title ..." I began.

I spent the next fifteen minutes recounting our conversation and my decision to pull my commitment.

"After hearing that, I can understand why you decided to do what you did," Ty said.

"I wanted to make sure you understood this isn't a knee-jerk decision. I was looking forward to continuing to play ball with you," I said to Ty.

"Thanks. I'll leave you guys alone so you can talk," Ty said and left.

"I got a call from Coach Haber," Wolf told us.

"Me too," Tim added.

"And ...?" I asked.

"I told him we were with you and gave him the complete rundown on Mike. He explained that if he'd known before Mike signed, they would have gone in another direction," Wolf said.

"They're just hiding behind that. I've seen schools pull scholarships before," Tim said.

Florida's former football coach, Jim McElwain, was a prime example of a coach who pulled scholarships. He'd made it a practice to reward walk-ons who played well enough by offering a scholarship, only to pull it if a better recruit became available.

I'd also seen other schools pull one for an incoming player who had done something that'd bring trouble to a program. Mike assaulting my brother and giving his underage girlfriend alcohol--and, I suspect, drugs as well--should rise to that level. The only difference in this case was that it hadn't been made public, which gave Michigan cover for not taking action. The coaching staff had the power to decide who received and didn't receive a scholarship.

"I agree. What did you tell him?" I asked.

"That we were going elsewhere," Tim said, and Wolf nodded his agreement.

"Before I commit to another school, I plan to explore Major League Baseball," I said.

"I think you should," Wolf said, surprising me. "You're good enough to get paid, and going to college might be a mistake for you."

"You're sure?" I asked.

"Yeah. Tami sat me down a while back and explained it to me," Tim said.

That didn't surprise me.

"Are you going to consider football too?" Wolf asked.

I took a deep breath.

"I need to. I've invested too much not to take it seriously," I admitted.

"Where?" Tim asked.

"I'm good with our final two besides Michigan," I said.

"Oklahoma and USC," Tim confirmed.

"Either of those would work," Wolf added.

"I need to get my lawyers in touch with the schools and explain my requirements for my image and other special needs because of movies and the like. I don't expect there will be a problem because the attorneys have spoken to them before. I just want to make sure before we get back in it with them," I said.

"Did you ever get the NCAA straightened out?" Tim asked.

"They agreed in principle, and I have a letter to that effect, but we haven't finished negotiating. They're dragging their feet," I explained.

"What happened to that guy who blackmailed you?" Tim asked.

I smiled.

"They fired him after investigating him. Seems I wasn't the only one he'd strong-armed," I shared.

"So, Lisa Felton?" Tim asked.

"So, Gina and Pam?" I asked back.

"Let's go lift," Wolf said.

I chuckled because they hadn't yet closed the deal. I hadn't either, but Lisa and I would be fine. On the other hand, Tim and Wolf were still in that 'not sure if she likes me' phase. I predicted that by this time next week, they would be on surer footing.

---

After school, Moose had us all go out to the practice field. Moose gathered us all around to give us his opening speech of the season. I held up my hand.

"Yes, David," Moose said to acknowledge me.

"Can I give them your annual speech to start practice?" I asked innocently.

There were chuckles all around. He eyed me.

"By all means," he said, turning it over to me.

I slowly walked to the front, mimicking our coach.

"Okay, settle down. I'm Moose. Just so we're clear, I answer to Coach or Moose. Either one is fine. Coach Haskins is going to work with the outfielders. Coach Herndon will work with the pitchers and catchers. The rest of the infield will be with me. The JV team will go with Coaches Stevens and Hope.

"I also want to clear something up for you, freshmen and first-year players. You will not be playing varsity ball. I don't believe in throwing anyone onto the varsity squad before they have at least a year of high school ball under their belts. This is non-negotiable. The first one of you that has his momma or daddy call me about it will be running until they either drop or quit, I don't really care which.

"There will be two teams this year, varsity and JV. Normally, I try to put only first-year players on JV. If you're cut from varsity, I'll consider--did you hear that? I will consider letting you try out for JV. I use the JV team to give first-year players a chance to learn. If I feel that you still have room to develop, I'll let you play JV ball. I know that sounds harsh, but it has worked for twenty-eight years. Are there any questions before we get started?" I asked.

The older players clapped at my rendition of Moose's annual kickoff talk with the team. Someone in the back raised their hand, so I pointed at him, staying in character.

"I think I can win a spot on varsity. I was the best player in my summer league last year. I'm sure I could contribute."

"No," I said to mimic Moose's expected one-word answer.

"I'm serious. I can beat out whoever you have playing at any position."

I looked closer because I smelled a rat. I suddenly realized it was Tristan Pratt, the left fielder from Team USA. Tristan had been the youngest player to make the national team, and we'd become friends. He had an older sister who made me nervous. I wondered if she had come with him.

"I'll take his challenge," Ty offered.

"Okay. Let's have a little batting practice," I suggested.

Only Moose, Coach Haskins, and I knew who Tristan really was, so when Coach Herndon grooved a fastball and Tristan parked it, everyone suddenly became interested. The sound a ball makes when it's hit with authority has a distinctive crack. The next pitch, Coach Herndon threw a curveball. I kept a straight face as I walked over to stand next to Ty as we watched the ball clear the centerfield fence with ease.

"I can't believe that some upstart thinks he can just come in and play for us," I said indignantly.

"Uh ... yeah," Ty stammered when Tristan hit a solid line drive that would have been a double.

I looked over at him.

"You're not worried, are you?" I asked.

"That kid can hit," Ty whispered to me.

"You want me to take this?" I asked.

He nodded.

When Tristan finished hitting ten pitches, I stepped into the box.

"You're going down," I called to Tristan.

Smartass had said he was the best this past summer. He had awakened the competitive beast.

"You might think you're good, but I've got your number," Tristan quipped.

Coach Herndon gave me an identical fastball to the one that Tristan had seen. I concentrated on my hitting steps and crushed it. My teammates had been nervously murmuring to each other as Tristan put on a hitting clinic. Now it was my turn. I wanted to remind everyone precisely why I was named MVP last summer.

"You still got it," Tristan admitted.

That was when everyone realized we knew each other. I decided to come clean.

"Everyone, this is Tristan Pratt. We played ball this past summer. He was the starting left fielder for Team USA."

It felt great to be back on a baseball field. Moose let the older guys go early so he and the staff could evaluate the younger players. I was glad to see that my 'little brothers,' Phil and Trent, had come out as promised.

We'd made a deal that I'd help them with football if they'd come pitch for the baseball team. If we planned to win it all, we needed the depth. The two of them had been practicing for seven-on-seven football. I'd kept my end of the bargain and spent time working with them to get them ready for next year.

Tristan had hung around and worked with the outfielders alongside Coach Haskins. They treated him like a rock star and hung on every word he said. He explained that he was in the area because he was on a recruiting trip to State. They had a good college baseball program.

As we strolled to the locker room, we found Cassidy waiting for us and blocking the entrance.

"Ah, shit," Wolf moaned.

"What's wrong?" Tristan asked.

"You are about to see what sets us apart," I explained.

"What does that mean?" Tristan asked.

Cassidy was in rare form. Tristan turned out to be a total wimp and dry-heaving in record time. That made Cassidy's day.

---

I invited Tristan and his family to dinner at my house. His sister hadn't come with them, making me happy. I also asked Moose and Coach Haskins so we could reminisce about last summer.

After dinner, Tristan and his family said they had to leave, and I asked my coaches and parents to join me in our office.

"I need your advice. I'm considering exploring baseball for next year," I said.

"Professionally?" Coach Haskins asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Is this for sure?" Mom asked.

"No, but I just pulled my football commitment from Michigan and decided I want to explore my options," I explained.

Surprisingly, not a single one of them asked why. The events surrounding the Valentine's Day Massacre didn't seem to be the secret I'd thought they were.

"You must realize this will be a distraction," Moose said.

"That is why I'm talking to you before I do anything."

"It can't be any worse than last spring," Dad reminded him.

When the Star Wars video of Dad and me stealing the Millennium Falcon had hit, we'd had to move our games to State to accommodate the crowds.

"You are a pain in my ass," Moose said, making my mom laugh.

No way was I going to touch that comment.

"Let me call my contacts and get some advice on how to manage this," Coach Haskins said, offering some structure to what could turn into chaos.

"You're sure?" Mom asked another time.

"I need to find out at least what they think. If it doesn't look likely that I would make the majors anytime soon, I'd be better off going to college," I said to explain my thinking.

"Make the calls," Dad said.

He would talk to my mom. I expected her strong pushback against the notion that I wouldn't go to college. She had to accept, though, that I loved to play baseball. It was still a game for me. While I also loved football, it took a lot more effort. Not that I wouldn't have to work at baseball. I guess baseball felt like I was out playing ball with Tami, while football was more of a job. The kid in me just liked baseball better.

---