Stupid Boy: Senior Year - Spring 11

Chapter 11 -- Boss of You

Wednesday February 22

I came back from my morning run to find I had a text to call Scarlet.

"When were you going to warn us that you'd opened your recruiting back up?" she asked, sounding unhappy.

"How about now?" I asked, trying to be smart.

"How about next time you keep me in the loop? Did you forget I'm your PA while you're going to school here?"

"Sorry. I'm not used to you being my go-to person yet. I should have called you," I admitted.

"I called Lexi, and she suggested that I get in touch with Frank. She said you need to handle the narrative ... whatever that means," Scarlet said.

"It means we need to make sure the true story is out there. I don't want someone from the University of Michigan trashing my character because they're upset with me," I explained.

"Is that possible?"

I remembered Coach Title saying that I would be labeled a problem. Hard to imagine since I'd never stepped foot on campus as a player. Yes, recruits could be fickle, but guess what, they were teenagers. I at least had a reason not to go, and Mike being a douche nozzle only made up half of it. The whole 'my way or the highway' attitude rubbed me the wrong way. Coach Title might preach that we all get along, but that wasn't happening on either Mike's or my part. Mike beating the crap out of my little brother was the last straw.

"Unfortunately, yes. Then there's me wanting to explore the possibility of playing baseball instead of going to college. If that isn't handled right, it might become a big deal," I surmised.

I then explained everything that had happened to bring her up to speed.

"Is it okay if I get Lexi to help me?"

"She works for Frank at the management company. You'll have to ask him, but I think it would be wise," I said.

"No, Caryn is running the management company now. Brook's grandmother did some restructuring, and Caryn wanted to move back to California to be closer to her family," Scarlet said, giving me news I hadn't yet heard.

I understood the logic in that. Frank would be able to focus on his PR side, and Caryn really didn't have a spot within the organization once they bought me out. Moving her to head the personal management business proved to be a great landing place for her.

"That's great news. Caryn will do a good job."

"Is there anything else you need to tell me?" Scarlet asked.

"Did you have a good time on your date with Paul?" I asked.

"None of your business."

"If there were a problem, you'd tell me, wouldn't you?" I asked.

"Yes," was her one-word answer.

"Then I don't have anything else to mess up your day."

I chuckled when she hung up on me. Scarlet was about to get a taste of what it meant to be my PA. Up to this point, it had been pretty easy. I'd made sure that Lexi handled my Oscar nomination workload; that fit better with her expertise and made sense.

Lexi had sent me messages that the studio and several reporters wanted me to make myself available. I'd held firm to this point, with the promise that when I took my trip to LA, I would do whatever they asked.

Scarlet was about to find out that football had its own set of issues. I suspected that the Michigan message boards were in meltdown mode. I imagined that across the country, football fan sites were speculating where the three of us would land. I could hardly wait until I announced my intentions to pursue a professional career in baseball. Yep, this would break in Scarlet.

---

When I got to school, Gina was waiting for me.

"How's pouty?" I asked.

Dare had skipped lunch yesterday because Gina and I had, in fact, scored higher on our math test. He was a funny kid, sometimes. Dare was even more competitive than I was when it came to academics. I remembered my nerd days in middle school. If it hadn't been for my circle of friends, I might have been an outcast like Dare. Being the smart kid tended to piss people off.

For Dare, being the smartest kid in the room was something to cling to when he was being bullied. At the very least, he knew that his brains would pay off down the road.

So, when the inconceivable happened--not just me but also Gina getting a higher score--he hadn't handled it very well. I wished Brook were still here to help him through this. It wasn't like he could come to me and complain that I'd done better than him. Well, he could, but he would get the tough love my mom thought he needed.

"Still in meltdown mode. I talked to Chrissy, and she said to leave him alone until lunch. If he tries to skip out again, she'll make him join us," Gina shared.

That sounded like a plan.

---

Joey went old-school on me today. She took me out to the football field, where an enormous tire sat on the goal line. Joey demonstrated how to flip it over safely. If a girl could do it, so could I. The reason she stressed safety was that the behemoth weighed close to 500 pounds. If I lifted it wrong, I might mess up my back.

Joey directed me to flip it end over end until I reached the far goal line. By the time I made it there, I was sure I would rather be tortured on the rowing machine at level eleven.

"Good job. Take a quick break and rehydrate. When you're ready, put the tire back where you found it," she ordered.

She didn't seem amused when I wanted to stand it up and roll it back. At least Cassidy thought it was funny. Because of my plan, Joey upped the ante and complained I wasn't going fast enough.

I found that by mixing up my training, she was preventing me from falling into complacency. Once you have learned how to do an exercise, there are techniques you can use to make it a little easier. Joey kept introducing new ways to work me out that required me to go full out. While I hated her for it, I loved the challenge.

When she took my measurements on Friday, I discovered that I'd lost weight but had gotten stronger. I also knew my endurance had improved. Joey was turning me into a lean beast. I wished I'd met her sooner.

---

"There he is. Everyone, welcome back Dare," I announced when Chrissy all but dragged him to the table.

We ignored Dare for the first half of lunch. His body language radiated his desire for everyone to leave him alone. Finally, Cassidy had had enough.

"What's your problem?" she asked Dare.

The whole lunch table got quiet as Dare mumbled something. My eyes got big in horror.

"Shit, is this it? Dare just declared there's a zombie apocalypse coming," I said.

Tim and Wolf helped sell it by looking scared. I would have to work with them on their acting skills. Dare couldn't help himself.

"If zombies want brains, they won't be coming after you," Dare said, trying to cut me to the quick.

Everyone burst out laughing. Dare didn't talk the rest of lunch, but he would glance up now and then. He would be fine.

---

After baseball practice, Paul was there to pick me up. I'd agreed to go with Cassidy to the dojo tonight, so she was at my side.

I had almost reached the car when a large man rushed towards me.

"David Dawson!" he yelled and reached into a bag.

"Gun!" Cassidy yelled and knocked me to the ground.

When I finally looked back, Paul had taken him down and had him subdued. Cassidy ran to the back of the SUV and got zip ties to restrain the man. I was in shock when Paul took two guns off of him, one on his hip and the other in an ankle holster. While they did that, I called 911.

Cassidy made me get into the car while she released the drones to make sure no one else lurked nearby.

A police car roared into the parking lot with its lights flashing and siren blaring. You can guess what that did to my fellow students ... they decided that watching Cops live was better than going home and playing video games.

I was happy to see that the police officer was Billy, my friend on the force. That stopped him from shooting Paul with his one bullet. With Billy on the scene, I figured it was safe to get out of the car. I cringed when I saw a news reporter with his phone out, taking pictures. I started to have a bad feeling that this was a setup.

"Well, look who we have here. Deputy Sheriff Anson Park," Billy said.

"Get these restraints off of me," he barked at Billy. "I want to press charges against this man for unlawful restraint and assault of a police officer."

"Three quick questions," Billy said.

I noticed that he hadn't made a move to release Deputy Park. When he started barking orders, I had a bad feeling this might go south in a hurry.

"Did you identify yourself as a police officer?" Billy asked.

He glared at Billy in response.

"Are you on duty?" Billy asked next.

Another icy stare.

"What were you trying to do?" Billy asked.

"I have papers to serve on David Dawson," he finally said.

I smelled a rat. I wondered where Thomas Fox was lurking. This was the same tactic he'd used when they served me the restraining order to stay away from Pam a year and a half ago. That explained why the reporter was taking this all in.

"Bringing guns onto school grounds is reason enough to arrest him. I subdued him because he was rushing David, and he was armed," Paul explained.

Even Deputy Park blanched at that. Every time there was a school shooting, the politicians postured and made noises about one side of the issue or another. They didn't agree on much, but they all agreed that if you brought a gun on campus, it was something you should do serious time for.

Billy became all business and put his cuffs on Deputy Park and called his supervisor. Great! I wasn't getting to leave just yet.

---

While the entire local police force showed up and Detective Kitchens took charge, I did what I probably shouldn't have: I talked to the reporter.

"Care to comment?" he asked.

"I'll give you full access if you answer one question for me. Who tipped you off?" I asked.

"I can't do that."

"I'll just call another reporter and give him my story," I said, like I didn't care.

"Wait!" he said when I pulled out my phone and showed him that I had Jeff Delahey's number on speed dial. "Thomas Fox."

That confirmed my suspicions.

"I was walking to my car in the school parking lot when an armed man called out my name and rushed me. Luckily, I had my security team with me, or who knows what he would have done," I said dramatically.

Frank was always preaching to get out in front of the story. I made sure I mentioned the man rushed me, was armed, and on school grounds, to do just that. Lost in all the noise that would create would be the reason Deputy Park had been there: to serve me papers of some kind.

The reporter nearly peed himself when I told him that my security team wore bodycams, and I would see if I was able to get him the video. Of course, I would have to ask. He gave me his card and then rushed off because he had to get his story in before someone else got to it. I promised I wouldn't give the video to any other reporters before he saw it. I left unsaid that he probably wouldn't see it, either.

Once he left, Cassidy suddenly appeared at my side.

"Aaron, your former manny, is suing you."

I was suddenly mad all over. Aaron had signed an agreement not to sue me, or anyone else for that matter, if my parents didn't press charges against him for assaulting my son and dog. In return, we ensured his medical insurance was paid for, and we covered any additional fees resulting from his injuries. Cassidy had popped his elbow out of its socket, which was both painful and potentially life-threatening if he'd ruptured a blood vessel and bled out.

He had recovered and moved on with his life, from what I'd heard. Aaron got into a spot of trouble when the soccer mom he was dating at our house turned out to be married, and her husband found out.

I suspected that our little weasel, Thomas Fox, was desperate for cash and figured he could get me to pay Aaron off to make him go away. Thomas Fox had become more than a problem for me. He needed to learn that he shouldn't expect me to play nice when he tried stuff like this. I planned to fix this problem once and for all.

I made a phone call.

---

After that conversation, I made my next call to Scarlet.

"Ready to be my PA?" I asked.

"Megan tossed your recruiting phone into a drawer this afternoon. We're hoping the battery runs down overnight."

"That's what I always suggested, but Caryn was a glutton for punishment and thought it unprofessional not to answer it," I shared.

"Oh."

I smiled because I could almost hear the gears grinding in Scarlet's head when she heard that Caryn felt it 'unprofessional' to ignore the deluge of calls. Personally, as long as they weren't calling me, I was okay with it. I would make sure they found out who had called so I could call them back when I was ready.

"I need you to do something for me and not tell anyone else," I said.

"No problem."

This was much different from Caryn. I should have put Scarlet in charge a long time ago.

"Book a round-trip ticket for Pádraig O'Malley out of LAX and into Chicago. Text him the information when you've booked it. He's on the way to the airport now and will return tomorrow night. Also, rent him a car at O'Hare and a hotel room locally."

"Anything else?" Scarlet asked.

"I need you to get cash for Paddy when the bank opens," I said and gave her the amount.

"That's a lot of money. Are you sure you don't want me just to write him a check?"

"No. That's his requirement. I'm not sure why he wants it in cash. It's not like people wouldn't be able to figure out we're paying for his travel if they looked hard enough," I said.

"This isn't anything illegal, is it?" Scarlet asked.

"It might be a gray area," I admitted.

I was hiring Paddy to speak to Mr. Fox and, if needed, Aaron to resolve this issue before it escalated. I'd hoped to never use Paddy's services as a fixer. But Thomas Fox wasn't going to stop his efforts to get his pound of flesh from me, however he could.

---

When I finally got home, Cassidy and Paul stayed for dinner. Everyone else had already eaten, but my mom and dad joined us.

Cassidy told them about the sheriff's deputy and that he was trying to serve me papers.

"I'll call Ms. Dixon in the morning," Dad said.

"No need," I said without thinking.

"I thought you'd finally figured out that it's better to call your lawyers early rather than when it's too late," Dad said.

"I think one of you also told me not to spend money until I had to," I said to deflect.

"But ..." Dad started, and I held up my hand.

"I haven't been served yet."

I thought I was brilliant. I'd head off my dad's argument for starting to pay lawyers.

"You should call Fritz and warn him that your 'fixer' is showing up tomorrow," Cassidy said.

"Fixer?" Mom asked.

Shoot me now.

That led to a whole discussion of how I knew a 'fixer.' I might have glossed over how I'd gotten Zander to agree to the settlement when I talked to my parents.

"David Allen Dawson!" Mom said, signaling I was in trouble.

"I know where the popcorn is," Cassidy told Paul.

My dad saved me from a public dressing-down when he barked out a laugh at Cassidy's comment that said, in essence, our show was about to start. She and Paul planned to sit back and watch our family drama unfold.

"Office, now!" Mom said, pointing.

Cassidy started to get up to follow until my mom gave her a pointed look.

"Uh, I need to get home and do my homework," was her witty response.

Even my mom didn't buy that Cassidy ever actually brought homework home.

"I'll give you a ride," Paul said as they left.

We never made it to the office because Mom tore into me before I got out of my seat.

"What the hell do you need a fixer for? You aren't paying to have Thomas Fox's legs broken, are you?" Mom asked.

"I wish," I said, and my dad reached over and smacked me on the back of the head.

"Hey, if someone did it, you wouldn't lose any sleep over it. Would you?" I asked.

"Maybe not, but you have to be careful about how you handle something like this," Dad said.

"That's why I hired a professional. I met him because Zander sent him after me, to begin with," I said in my defense.

"Just because someone else does something doesn't mean you have to respond in kind," Mom said.

I groaned. Next, I would hear the whole 'not jumping off a bridge if my friends did it' line, or even better, 'turn the other cheek.'

"David," Dad warned.

I put my face in my palms and rubbed my cheeks before looking up to respond.

"Here's the deal. Paddy is being paid to talk some sense into Thomas Fox. If you ever meet him, you'll understand why a visit from him will make a believer out of you. Heck, Fritz had almost everyone who works for him attend a meeting I had with the guy. They were loaded for bear, and still nervous they might not be able to handle him.

"If Fritz gets that worried, think about what a pencil-neck like Thomas Fox will do. I hope that Paddy will convince him that messing with me is futile, and we can stop worrying about nuisance lawsuits every time something happens.

"In the long run, one visit from Paddy will be far cheaper than hiring Ms. Dixon and her team," I said as my parting shot.

If my mom was anything, it was tight with a dollar.

"Why do you think it will only take one visit?" Dad asked.

I chuckled.

"If you don't believe me, call Fritz."

"I want you to call this off," Mom said.

"He's already on his way. I'll have to pay him regardless of whether or not he has a quick talk with Thomas Fox. I'd hate to waste so much money," I said, and then told my parents how much it cost.

When Mom heard the amount, a determined look crossed her face. Wait until she found out that I was buying Pam and Tracy a Mustang to drive to school in California. When she had jokingly said I owed her a Cadillac, I think I'd said something along the lines of, 'If I wasn't buying them a car, then she wasn't getting one.' I might need to go ahead and have her pick her's out.

---

I called Lisa Felton and was disappointed when her phone went to voicemail, so I left a quick message. Next, I flipped through the channels on my TV, finding nothing of interest, and tossed the remote on the coffee table. I stared at my phone pathetically for a few minutes, hoping Lisa would call back. Then I decided to call Tami instead.

"It's been over a week since we talked. I wondered if you had forgotten about me," she chastised.

"A phone is a two-way street," I responded.

"Wow. When you were younger, that would have worked," Tami teased me.

"When I was younger, you were the boss of me."

"Who's the boss of you now?"

"I think that depends on who you ask."

That was true. Right now, it was my mom.

"What did you do to make Mike mad again?" Tami asked.

"I threw him under the bus with Michigan. I tried to get them to pull his scholarship," I admitted.

From his perspective, that was a pretty sucky move on my part.

We spent the next fifteen minutes catching each other up on what had happened since Valentine's Day.

"Someone told me you plan to go to Stanford for your undergraduate," I said.

"Looks like it, assuming I get in. Everyone says I'm a slam dunk, but we'll see. I just received word that a couple of my scholarships have been approved, although I'm still waiting to hear about the grants. My mom is hoping that I won't have to get loans to pay for school. I have to keep above a B average for the scholarships, and I should be okay," she explained.

"You would have to become a serious partier for that not to happen. Do you even have a party animal anywhere inside you?" I asked.

"Just shut it, 'stupid boy.' You're more straitlaced than I am."

"When are you starting?" I asked.

"My mom asked me to come home for the summer, so I'll start in the fall."

She and I had talked about powering through and going to summer school when we were in college. I'd assumed that that would allow me to graduate early and use my football scholarships to help pay for either law or graduate school. Tami planned to be a doctor, and a significant amount of education was needed to become one. The faster she completed her schooling, the sooner she'd be able to practice medicine.

My original plan had been to take it slow and not hurry to grow up. Since then, I'd been taking AP classes and had a ton of kids. If the kid factor didn't make you realize that you needed to grow up, I didn't know what would.

When my parents had agreed to raise Coby for Pam and me, I'd only had him. Now our lives were in constant flux because of five little ones, plus Greg's three, who demanded serious time commitments from my parents. I needed to take over full responsibility for my children.

This became even more apparent when my dad had his heart issues. While he loved all of his grandkids, they were just that--grandkids. Watching all their grandmas interacting with them last Saturday night made me realize that was what my parents should be able to do. That is, kick back, drink some wine, and enjoy the little rug-rats from afar.

It made me recognize that they were going way above and beyond for me, and frankly, I didn't know what I would do without them. My best guess is that I'd have to hire a lot of help.

All I had to do was remember what happened with Aaron to determine that was probably not the best course of action. Someone being paid to watch your kids was completely different from having someone who loved them watch them.

I didn't stress about it too much, however, because my mom seemed to relish the role of hands-on grandma. All I had to do was look at what she'd done when the flu had gone through the daycare. She watched all of them for a week and didn't break. If she could survive that, I expected she could survive just about anything. Then again, I dreaded their becoming surly teenagers. Especially when one of them was my little princess. What did you do with girls at that age? Lock them in a closet?

"If you decide you need a break from home, let me know. I'll be traveling all over for the Bond movie. I might not have time to hang out, but I bet you'd figure out what to do and act like a tourist. I can send you a plane ticket to come join me," I suggested.

From what Lexi had passed on about the shoot schedule, I was going to be a busy boy. It usually took upwards of eight months to shoot a James Bond movie. I would only be on set for three of those months before I had to fly to New Zealand and film the Star Academy movies. Chubby was making a considerable effort to accommodate my schedule, so the deal was that he could work my butt off.

"I would enjoy that. Thank you, David."

My phone told me I had another call. Lisa Felton.

"Hey, I gotta go. New girlfriend calling."

"At some point, we need to talk about that," Tami said.

"Can't wait," I said and hung up to her laughter.

She knew I would rather go to the vet and get fixed than have that conversation.

---

Thursday February 23

When Paddy got into town last night, we arranged to meet at my house first thing this morning to talk. Paddy wasn't too excited about the early meeting because of the time difference. For him, it was five in the morning.

Fritz, Paul, and Cassidy showed up a few minutes early.

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" Fritz asked.

"That was my question last night," Mom chimed in.

The gate call buzzed, and Paul went to let Paddy in. When Paddy walked in the back door, my parents looked at each other and then at me. Paddy looked like the movie version of mob muscle in a thousand-dollar suit. He had a beard, shoulder-length hair, and wore a white button-up shirt without a tie. Instead of business casual, he had pulled off classy hitman casual.

"Mr. O'Malley, I would like to introduce my parents, Rob and Carol. Of course, you've met my head of security, Fritz, and these are two of his people, Cassidy and Paul."

"Morning," he said back.

"Can we get you something? Coffee? Some breakfast?" Mom asked.

"No. I'm good," Paddy said. "I would like to talk about what we're dealing with."

I had Fritz run the video of when Aaron knocked down Coby and then kicked Duke. It also showed my avenging angel, Cassidy, come in and all but snap his arm off. Dad handed Paddy the contract Aaron had signed. I was surprised when he read the entire document before looking up.

"You say he's trying to sue you?"

"Mr. Fox, his lawyer, is the problem. He tried to have me served yesterday, which started all this. It's my guess he's trying to shake me down," I explained.

Then my mom launched into everything she knew about our dealings with Thomas Fox and her low opinion of him. I'd been right yesterday that if someone broke his legs, she wouldn't lose any sleep over it. I think that overnight, she'd come to grips with how I planned to approach this.

"You don't plan violence, do you?" Dad asked.

"I doubt it will come to that," Paddy said.

The room became silent. Dad and I had fallen into the Dawson silence routine. I think everyone else just tried to wrap their heads around the idea of me hiring a fixer.

"Fritz told me he knows how to take care of a dead hooker if they turn up in my trunk, so if ..." was all I got out.

"David Allen Dawson!" Mom snapped.

Wow, I'd gotten the full-name treatment two days in a row. I hadn't done that since middle school.

"I'll keep that in mind," Paddy said and then left.

We all looked at each other. Paddy seemed dead serious when he answered my offer of Fritz helping dispose of the bodies. I vowed this would be the last time I did something like this. If I'd given myself a day to think about it, I would never have called in the big guns for Thomas Fox.

For some reason, I was put in charge of making breakfast. While I did that, everyone else speculated about what Paddy O'Malley would do to get Thomas Fox and Aaron to back down. I'd also asked that Paddy see about convincing Mr. Fox to stop his nonsense. Everyone felt he would be successful.

Fritz took me aside and suggested I never mention his name and dead hookers around my mom again. I'd already come to that conclusion due to her reaction this morning. My excuse was that when I got nervous, I tried to joke around. Like Wolf, I was hit or miss.

---

In PE, Joey had her hair down. I was reminded of how much I was attracted to her. The truth was, Joey's long, soft waves had taken me by surprise. Usually, she wore her hair up in a ponytail, and I'd never noticed the curls like I did this morning.

When I was close enough to take in the scent of Joey's hair, I leaned in to get a better smell when she turned around. I let out my breath when I figured out I hadn't been caught sniffing her hair, as I startled her when she saw how close I was. Well, Joey didn't catch me. Cassidy was another story.

"Sorry," I mumbled and tried to play it off as if I hadn't been paying attention to where I was going.

For once, Cassidy kept her mouth shut about my perving on Joey.

Today, the gruesome twosome had me running sprints. They used my morning PE class for cardio-type activities, and then, after school, I usually lifted weights. This was the opposite of what most of the other players did. Joey reasoned that lifting took longer than an hour to do right. I think they just enjoyed torturing me twice a day on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

Before Joey came along, I lifted weights five days a week. I would alternate between legs and the upper body. She wanted my body to 'rest' between using weights. It was a little unorthodox, but I felt better because of her approach. Of course, the cardio tended to be an all-body type of exercise, so I needed the breaks from lifting.

Joey contended that for baseball, I had to be more explosive and concentrate on my core, which was critical in batting and throwing. I didn't need to beef up as I did to take a pounding on the football field.

---

At lunch, Tim and Wolf stopped me before we joined the table to show me the text Frank planned to send out. I'd told Frank to get their approval before I saw it, since the whole mess involved them, too.

'The road to your dreams is often not straight and narrow; frequently, it has bumps, curves, and dips. Thank you, Wolverine Nation. You made us feel welcome, and we looked forward to joining the team, but circumstances outside our control have caused us to reopen our recruitment. We would like to thank the University of Michigan, its coaching staff, and fan base, and wish you the best of luck moving forward. Please respect our decision as we reopen our recruitment. #WhyNotUs'

"Why did he add the last line about respecting our decision?" Tim asked.

"So that we don't have a bunch of trolls doxing us, which leads to people showing up at our homes to give us grief," Wolf explained.

"You should be okay," I said.

"Do you even read your social media?" Wolf asked.

"Hell, no! If I wanted that kind of abuse, I would go home and let my mom have a free shot at me."

"I sometimes forget the crap you have to put up with," Tim said, shaking his head.

"I'm just lucky I live here. I shudder to think what it would be like if I lived in LA, where the paparazzi would stalk me 24/7."

"You poor thing," Wolf teased.

"Have you asked Gina to be your girlfriend yet?" I asked to turn the discussion over to someone else.

The wimps both decided that they had to hurry up and get in the lunch line. I was still eating leftover lasagna, so I went to sit down with everyone else.

"Dad said that someone from the St. Louis Cardinals is coming to practice tonight to talk to you," Cassidy shared.

Being a Cubs fan, I made a face. My worst nightmare would be to play for either the Yankees or them. I think everyone hated the Yankees. Then again, they did pay their top talent. I could probably hold my nose and play for them if they offered me a couple of hundred million.

"Want to trade lunches?" Chrissy asked to sidetrack me.

She was eyeing my lasagna. Today, I had the roasted veggie version.

"What do you have?" I asked.

"Kal-guksu. It's Korean knife-cut noodles. My mom used to take me to a market in Seoul, and the vendors all sold a version of it," she explained.

I looked at it and wasn't sure if it was a good trade or not. When she saw me hesitate, Chrissy explained the dish's history.

"During the Korean War, the country was devastated. Many of the women were widowed, so they had to find a way to support themselves. One alternative was selling food. Part of the aid from the United States was flour, and since they didn't know what else to do with it, they began making knife-cut noodles.

"My mom makes a traditional recipe. The broth is made with dried anchovies, shellfish, and kelp," she finished with a smile.

"Dude!" Phil complained when I made the trade.

The best way to describe it might be a noodle soup with a variety of different vegetables. My fellow tablemates thought I'd gotten the short end of that trade, but I occasionally traded with Chrissy to try something different. I was happy with the deal, and she loved the lasagna.

When I was almost done, I received a call from someone using a Chicago area code.

"David, is it true you're thinking about entering the draft, and the Cardinals' scout is coming to your practice today?" Lucas Kite, one of the scouts from the Cubs, asked.

"I'm exploring my options, since I decided not to go to Michigan to play football," I explained.

"But the Cards?" he asked.

"I didn't set that up. Coach Haskins used his contacts. He used to manage in the minors," I explained.

"Mind if I drive down?"

"I would love to see you again. When you get here, look up Moose. You met him in North Carolina," I reminded him.

"Your head coach?"

"Yes. He's who you need to talk to."

"Okay, see you this afternoon," Lucas said as he rang off.

I figured if Lucas left the Cubs' offices right now, he would miss the traffic and be here in less than two hours. Plenty of time to get down here and make it to practice.

---

Ms. Saunders met with me right after school because I wanted to discuss the pictures I'd seen at Tracy's roommate's exhibit. The Krannert Art Museum had a website that showed several of the photographs.

"She said I had to get a wide-angle lens and software to recreate her shots. I wanted your take on what I needed," I explained.

"Actually, you already have the software, and I would be happy to show you how to create the mirrored effect. I'm glad to see you're expanding your lens options. Most new photographers focus on zoom. They want to be able to pick out a bee on a flower from thirty yards."

"I might want one of those, too," I admitted.

"I agree, a telephoto zoom lens is something you should own. I would suggest that you at least get a good one. They're not the only or even the first ones I would recommend for you as you expand your lens collection. If you want to capture the action of a football game from the bleachers or the vista of a landscape, wide-angle is the way to go.

"I want to caution you, though, that there can be distortion when using wide-angle lenses," Ms. Saunders added.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Because a wide-angle lens takes in such a broad field of view, there can be a noticeable bend where straight lines should be. It can also alter the relationship between objects. You have to monitor your pictures closely.

"Then again, you sometimes want your picture to have that distorted look," Ms. Saunders said.

"So, what do you suggest I get?" I asked.

She made her suggestion, pointing to a lens in an online catalog.

"This is the kind of lens that you can buy once, use all the time, and never need to replace. It provides a moderately wide angle of view, typically with less distortion, and it's reasonably priced. It's the kind of lens you can leave on your camera all the time. It'll give you a chance to try out wide-angle photography. If later you decide you need something better, then get it," she suggested.

I planned to take my camera on spring break and also when I traveled for the upcoming movies. If I was going to be traveling around the world, I wanted to capture the memories.

---

I dressed early for practice and was pleasantly surprised to see my favorite reporter there, accompanied by a cameraman.

"Jeff, what are you doing here?" I asked.

"Frank Ingram hired me to document your tryout today, and I get to interview you about what happened yesterday," he shared.

"I promised the reporter from last night an exclusive," I said to try to get out of it.

"Perfect. My editor took it away from him and gave the assignment to me," Jeff said, smiling.

I looked across the field and saw Paddy O'Malley.

"Excuse me, I need to take care of something," I told Jeff and jogged off to meet Paddy out of earshot of everyone.

"It's been taken care of," Paddy said.

I stared at him, and he smiled.

"I like you. You're smart enough to keep your mouth shut. I'll only tell you two things. The first is that I followed your father's instructions."

That meant he hadn't hurt anyone. I must have visibly relaxed. I know it sounds cool to act like The Godfather and order a hit on someone. But in reality, my stomach was all twisted up with worry about what I'd unleashed.

"And the second?" I asked.

"When I 'fix' something, it stays fixed. If either of them causes you any trouble, let me know, and I'll take care of it, no charge."

From the way he said it, I'm sure my dad wouldn't be happy if he had to come back. Then I let out a giggle.

"Sorry," I said. "I just never expected you would give me a no-cost satisfaction guarantee."

"I'll get my money and take off," he said, and he turned around and walked away.

I watched until he had gotten into his car and driven off. Cassidy came up beside me.

"You have your phone on you?" I asked.

She unlocked it and handed it to me. I sent Scarlet a text letting her know to pay Mr. O'Malley.

---

I had just finished stretching when a jeep pulled up, and a crusty-looking old man wearing a Cardinals jacket got out. Coach Haskins walked out to greet him. It was apparent they knew each other.

Coach Haskins led him to me as they talked. When we met, my teammates somehow found they had nothing to do and gathered behind me.

"David, I would like you to meet Joseph Riggs, a longtime scout, and most recently with the Cardinals' organization."

"Shall we get started?" Joe asked.

"Can we hang on just a moment? Lucas Kite, from the Cubs, is joining us," I said.

"I didn't realize that anyone else would be here," Joe said, acting peeved.

"Did you expect him to put all his eggs in one basket?" Moose asked. "He wants to find out if baseball is in the cards. I think you would agree that David should do what's best for him and his family, not what's best for you and the Cardinals."

Joe had the good grace to look a little embarrassed. He mumbled something about being caught off guard. It wasn't as if I were a hidden gem that he could take credit for uncovering. After all, I had made the USA's Under-18 team and won the MVP honors at the Pan American Games last summer.

I was impressed when the Cubs contingent arrived in a stretch limousine. I shook my head when five men got out of the car. Lucas led the way and made the introductions.

"Joe," Lucas said to acknowledge his competitor. "David Dawson, I would like you to meet Theodore Rosenstein, President of Baseball Operations. Next is Jace MacCallum, Senior Vice President of Player Development and Amateur Scouting. Finally, Nevaeh Jefferson, a pitching prospect, and Kaptain Samuel, his catcher. They play for our Triple-A affiliate and volunteered to throw some batting practice. Could you point them to where they can get changed?"

The Cubs had pulled out the big guns for this tryout. It made me a little nervous to be in the presence of Mr. Rosenstein. He was the architect who pulled together the first Cubs World Series in way too many seasons. When it came to baseball management, he was the equivalent of Babe Ruth for Chicago Cubs fans.

I began to relax when Joe and Lucas started by checking my measurables. I was six feet four and a quarter, and weighed 209 pounds. I'd lost nearly fifteen pounds due to the training regime Joey had me on.

Baseball measurements were similar to those they made for football, with slight variations.

The first drill they had me do was the sixty-yard dash. In football, it was forty yards. Before it started, Jeff asked Lucas and Joe to explain what each drill measured.

"David will get into an athletic base-running stance. Timing will start on his first movement," Lucas explained.

"What are you looking for? And what's considered good?" Jeff asked.

"We want to see how fast he is and find out if he's quicker at the start or finish of the run. That knowledge will help us train a player so they can lower their time. We're looking for a time of seven seconds or better. An average player in the league will run between 6.7 and 6.9 seconds," Joe explained.

I stepped up to the line as my teammates began to yell encouragement. I glanced around and spotted Joey looking nervous. During Team USA tryouts, I clocked a time of 6.37, the second-best among the players. One of the kids had run a 6.28.

I relaxed and remembered what my speed coach had taught me about running fast. I took a couple of deep breaths as I dug my cleats into the turf so I would get a good start.

"When you're ready," Lucas said.

I noticed that not only the scouts had stopwatches out. It seemed the Cubs brass wanted to time this themselves. No pressure, right? I shook my hands out to help release some of my nervous energy and focused on the task at hand. I felt myself block everything out as I dropped into the zone. I exploded into the run and concentrated on my form. In the blink of an eye, it was over.

"I have 6.32," Joe announced.

"6.33," Lucas said.

"That's fast, right?" Jeff asked.

The scouts and back-office people laughed.

"That's more than fast," Mr. MacCallum confirmed.

They ran me through two other timed drills, including the shuttle run to measure how quickly I could change direction, and my home-to-first-base time. That was where I hit a pitch and then ran to first. They were looking for fast times because speed put pressure on the defense.

They asked me to do the broad jump to test my lower body strength and explosiveness. Other activities included grip strength, exit velocity--measuring the speed of a baseball I hit off a batting tee--and arm velocity. Then they got serious and sent me to the outfield and hit balls to me to see how I moved in the field.

Finally, it was time for the Cubs' pitcher to come in and see how I fared against him. Once he had warmed up, Lucas called me to the batter's box.

"Nevaeh, groove him some fastballs. We want to see his power," Lucas called out.

I discovered on his first pitch that Nevaeh--heaven spelled backward--had a sneaky rise in his fastball. I hit under the ball, sending it into the stratosphere as I tried to crush it.

"Straighten it out," Moose encouraged.

I glanced back and saw that the stands behind home plate were full of my teammates, coaches, and students. Word had gotten around that I was trying out today. It helped that they were getting loud with their support.

Nevaeh offered up ten straight fastballs, and I started to hit them with authority.

"Throw him the curve," Joe yelled.

Nevaeh smirked.

"You're about to learn what a major league curveball looks like," Kaptain said from behind the plate.

Many star players in high school look mortal when they face a good curveball. Learning to hit that is one of the primary aspects of batting that's taught in the minor leagues. Instead of watching the first one to get a feel for it, I decided to be aggressive. He threw a nasty one that clocked at 12 and 6 and dropped suddenly through the strike zone.

Crack!

Nevaeh's head snapped around as I hit a line drive that just kept climbing as it exited the park.

"Well, shit. I think he got all of that one," Kaptain called out to his pitcher.

They let Nevaeh loose at that point so that it better simulated an actual game. He made me look silly at times, but I got my licks in.

"I've seen enough," Lucas said to end the tryout.

"Me, too. Good job, David," Joe said.

Jeff conducted a quick interview with Joe while I spoke with the Cubs contingent, accompanied by Moose and Coach Haskins.

"I know you want to get an idea of what to expect if you decide to enter the draft," Lucas said.

"I see a lot of talent, and you have a high ceiling. As of right now, I would say you're at least two, if not five, years away from getting called up. I think you're a third- to fifth-rounder as of now," Mr. MacCallum shared.

"Before we would move you higher on the board, we would have to see how you perform this season. That doesn't mean you aren't capable of being a first-rounder and being called up by the end of the season. That's usually the time when we expand the roster.

"That is, if you decide to do baseball full-time. I understand that you have other commitments," Mr. Rosenstein said.

"Yes, sir. I have movies to shoot starting in May and finishing around the end of the year," I confirmed.

"That means that the first ball you could seriously participate in would be winter ball. With that in mind, I doubt anyone will risk drafting you," Mr. Rosenstein said, which crushed me. "What I will say is that if you decide to enter the draft, we would be willing to draft you in a later round based on what we saw today. The problem with that is your salary would be slotted at a lower starting level than you deserve. We would be willing to renegotiate when you show up and start to produce."

I just bet he would. He was offering to sign me to a bargain-basement contract. And when it came time to look at compensating me for what I was worth, I would be stuck unless they kept their word. From historical examples of professional sports antics, baseball included, if they could get you on the cheap, they wouldn't hesitate to take advantage of it. A bad first contract might cause me to be underpaid for years, and I might never catch up.

---

After the Cubs left, Joe Riggs, Coach Haskins, Moose, and I went into one of the coaches' conference rooms to discuss.

Jeff and his cameraman had thankfully left, so he could file his article for the paper and get the video of the tryout to Frank and his team. Frank planned to put together different-length cuts and provide them to the news outlets. This was part of his plan to show me as an All-American boy right before the Academy Awards this coming weekend.

I quickly summarized what the Cubs had told me. Joe had a big smile on his face.

"So, it begins," he said.

Coach Haskins just shook his head sadly.

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

"About half of what they told you was true. Yes, it may take a few years for you to reach the majors. Even world-class athletes like Michael Jordan can struggle. What they're worried about is that you haven't played enough baseball. You've spent the majority of your time on football-related activities. It is true that your natural talent gives you almost no ceiling as to how good you can eventually be. But skills like hitting a baseball usually take countless hours to do at the highest level," Joe said.

"Who's Michael Jordan?" I asked.

"Probably one of the top three NBA players of all time. He quit basketball to try to play professional baseball and failed," Moose explained.

"Oh. I didn't know he did that. I thought you were talking about someone else," I said.

"Getting back on track, before I'm reminded that I'm old again," Joe said, showing he had a sense of humor. "Based on what I saw today, I would rate you a top 100 prospect for this year's draft without a doubt. If you dominate the competition this year, you could rise as high as a first-rounder."

"The Cubs said they were concerned that no one would draft me because of my movie commitments," I said.

"It's not ideal and will cause a lot of teams to shy away. You want your top-round draft picks to contribute as soon as possible. Normally, even a first-rounder rarely jumps straight to the big leagues. They play a year or two in the minors until they're ready unless they played college ball," Joe said.

"My mother would love you for saying that," I said.

"Here's my advice. Put the word out that you're seriously considering playing baseball professionally. By the end of your baseball season, you'll know whether or not the movie commitment is going to push you out of the first round. If it does, go to college. It's not worth it for you to sign a lower-round contract.

"What you have to realize is that in ten rounds of the Major League Baseball draft, each team will spend between two and fifteen million dollars on bonuses and starting assignments. We estimate that the top player taken will be given a contract in the seven-million range over three to four years. The top pick in the second round will be offered under two million. And money offered at the top of the third round will be around 750 thousand," Joe enlightened us.

I knew that in theory, but having it laid out like that hammered home what I would be giving up by signing a much lower-level contract offer. The kicker was that the average contract locked you in for a minimum of at least three years. This was due to a rule in place, which referred to this period as 'pre-arb.'

MLB categorized your ability to negotiate contracts into three phases based on how long you had played professionally. Years 1-3 were pre-arbitration, 4-6 were eligible for salary arbitration, and everything after that fell into the free-agent category.

What that meant for someone new to the league was that under the collective bargaining agreement between the teams and the players' union, your initial contract couldn't be renegotiated. Of course, there were loopholes in the complicated deal, but in essence, I would be stuck with my initial contract for a minimum of three years. That was why climbing up to the top tier of the draft was so important, money-wise.

"What does David need to work on?" Moose asked.

"Just continue working hard and improve in all phases of your game. You don't have any glaring weaknesses. You battled a high-level minor-league pitcher, and you more than held your own. I can't see many high school pitchers being too much of a problem for you.

"I would armor up because even in high school ball, they will throw at you to get you off your game. I would hate to see you injured in a meaningless game," Joe offered.

With that last piece of advice, Joe had to get running. I thanked him for taking the time to talk to me, and I thanked Coach Haskins for arranging it.

---

I got home to find Scarlet and Fritz in the kitchen, talking to my parents; we were catching a flight to LA tonight. I'd made Frank a promise to do the whole press routine this weekend if he'd managed to hold them off until just before the big event on Sunday.

"How did it go?" Dad asked.

I brought them up to speed on all things baseball. Mom had a little smile when she heard the comment about college. Wise woman that she was, she didn't offer her opinion. I suspected she knew I would go to college, even if I played baseball.

"Paddy stopped by and said that it was taken care of." When my parents glared at me, I quickly added, "And no one got hurt."

"The State's Attorney decided not to charge Deputy Sheriff Park," Dad said.

"That's probably for the best if you want this all to go away," Fritz said to offer his opinion.

He was right. If this became a bigger news story, the press would dig into why the sheriff had been at the school.

Scarlet became my bossy PA when she reminded me that we still had to drive to Chicago to catch our flight. I quickly ate and ran up to my apartment to grab my bags.

The thought of going to LA this weekend filled me with equal portions of excitement and dread. I was excited because I'd been nominated for an Oscar. That was a rare honor, something that no one could ever take away from me. I didn't even want to think about actually winning.

The dread stemmed from the way it highlighted how my life had changed. I had been living in a cocoon here in our small town. I wasn't exposed to all the trappings and distractions fame brought. In my small town, I was David, the kid who made them proud. Out there, I was the movie star. I also dreaded the possibility of losing my small-town values. I'd already gone a little wild in LA before, and that had been before my movies had started to come out.

I'd been trying hard to be nothing more than a high school kid for just one semester. In a sense, I wanted normalcy so much I could almost taste it. Now I was coming face-to-face with the reality that my life would likely not be normal for a long, long time, if ever.

---

I'd explained to Scarlet what to expect once we arrived in LA. We hadn't checked any bags because we wanted to get through the airport as quickly as possible. After passing through airport security, we were faced with a gauntlet of cameras. The paparazzi were out in force, trying to catch celebrities as they arrived in town for the awards.

Fritz led the way as we pushed through their insistent shouts for a reaction.

"Is this your new girlfriend?"

"What are you going to say if you win?"

"Is it true that you sleep with all your co-stars?"

And they got ruder as we got closer to freedom. Then the stoner dude for TMZ rushed up.

"Hey ... my girlfriend said she would get naked too if you did her podcast."

That one made me stop and laugh. Scarlet didn't know what to do, so she grabbed my arm to pull me away. I could understand her concern because if I didn't know who he was, I might confuse him with a homeless person.

"I need to see some pictures to see if it would be worth my while."

He handed me his video camera and dug out his phone. While he did that, I turned the camera on the paparazzi. When the light came on, they scattered like cockroaches.

He smiled as I took a picture of him and held up a photo of his girlfriend.

"She seriously goes out with you?" I asked because she was smoking hot.

He laughed because he knew he was a lucky guy.

"Tell her I'll do it if I have time. I'm only here through Sunday," I said and gave him Scarlet's number.

Fritz had gone ahead and secured a car for us to take us to Rita James's house. She'd offered to put Scarlet and me up for the long weekend.

Once we were finally in the car, Scarlet wasn't able to hold in her curiosity any longer.

"What was that grungy guy talking about?"

"His girlfriend does a podcast where the guests are naked. He's been after me to do it for quite a while. I kept telling him that I would only do it if she were naked too."

"You would get naked?" Scarlet asked.

Once again, why had I not fired my security team yet? Scarlet looked confused at Fritz's inappropriate laughter.

"I'm a model and not body-shy," I tried.

"David will take his clothes off at the drop of a hat," Fritz added.

"Oh," Scarlet said.

Then she did the wise thing and shut up.

---

When we got to the James household, I just walked in.

"I'm home!" I called out.

"David!" Halle called from the kitchen and came bounding out to greet me.

Bandit beat her to me.

"Buddy," I said as I scooped up the cat.

"Hi, you must be Scarlet," Halle said as Rita and Rosy followed.

Scarlet was starstruck; she gaped when I hugged Rita. Bandit didn't like not being the center of attention and meowed to remind me that I was supposed to be loving him up.

"That cat is spoiled," Rosy said.

"Do you have anything good for a starving boy?" I asked.

"I made empanadas," Rosy said to make my day.

"I think the only reasons David likes to visit are Rosy's cooking and my cat," Halle teased.

I handed Bandit to Scarlet and then pulled Halle into my arms, kissing her.

"Hello, gorgeous," I said and kissed her again. "Still worried, I don't want to see you, too?"

Halle gave me a playful shove, then grabbed my hand and took me to the kitchen, where Rosy had a big platter of one of my favorite treats.

This made the trip to LA worthwhile.

---