Mr.Walker didn’t play for Coach Ellis. “Buzz Miller is right. This program is run by people who don’t understand how the game is played. I’ll be meeting with the college president about pulling my support—then we’ll see who you believe.”
“Do what you have to do, but you’re not ruining two young people’s lives with your baseless accusations.” Turning to Penelope, Coach added, “Good luck to you, young lady.” In uncharacteristic Ellis fashion, he said, “You’re going to need it.”
He took two steps from us before he turned and nodded in our direction. “Gentlemen, a word, please.”
“One sec, Coach.” It was my turn to stare down Penelope Walker. “I have a question. Why target me? We’ve probably only ever said two words to each other.”
She sniffed, slid her eyes in the direction of her dad, and mumbled, “It was Tory’s idea.”
“Tory Miller put you up to this? Why?”
She shrugged.
“Why did you go along with it?” I didn’t clock that I’d raised my voice until Callahan put a hand on my arm. Swallowing hard, I jacked down. “Why would you want to saddle yourself with someone you don’t even know?”
“It was easier than facing my parents with the truth,” she mumbled in the direction of her shoes. “They don’t like my baby’s father.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mr.Walker’s jaw flex.
The beep of Coach Larkin locking his pickup interrupted the conversation. Without another word Callahan and I fell into step behind Coach Ellis while Larkin took up the rear, leaving the Walkers alone on the pavement to deal with their own damn mess.
I sent Chess what I hoped was a reassuring smile when we passed our friends on the way back to Coach Ellis’s office. I had no delusions about how this next part was going to go. Coach had stuck up for me, but his displeasure at being put in a position of having to stick up for me over a girl didn’t sit well. Anyone with eyes could see it.
The door to his office had barely closed behind us when he started in. “What is it with you guys getting into entanglements with donors’ daughters? The program needs those alumni dollars so you can have a state-of-the-art weight room, an indoor practice field, the big, comfy busses for road games... In case you missed it, those funds don’t come from student fees.” He stomped around his desk and sat down.
Behind us, Coach Larkin took a seat on the leather couch pushed up against the wall. Having not been invited to sit, Callahan and I remained standing.
“All due respect, sir, I didn’t start the mess that led to Buzz Miller pulling his funds.” ’Han stood at ease with his hands folded in front of himself.
Mirroring my best friend, I said, “I saw that girl maybe two or three times at the library last fall when she was with Tory Miller and a bunch of other girls. I damn sure didn’t knock her up.”
“Language, McCabe. You will show respect.”
“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”
“That’s what was going on out there?” Callahan asked. “Fuck, Finn. We warned you about hanging out with jersey chasers.”
“O’Reilly.” Coach’s tone hauled my friend up short.
“Sorry, Coach,” ’Han said.
“This is why we lecture you guys every year about paying attention and not putting yourselves into situations. Using protection. Knowing how old the women are before you engage in certain activities.” Coach Ellis sighed. “You’re a fourth-year junior with an impressive GPA inbiology, McCabe. You of all people shouldn’t have been the one accused.”
All the talk about donors and Buzz Miller and Callahan and Bax’s warnings about jersey chasers in general and Tory Miller specifically came flooding in, and I blurted, “That Penelope girl is friends with Tory Miller. When Tory was a freshman, she lived on my girlfriend’s floor. All I know is some bad shit went down between them.” I cleared my throat. “I didn’t know either of them at the time, but on Homecoming last fall when I drove Chess back to the dorms, Tory saw us together. And she didn’t like it.”
Coach pinched the bridge of his nose. “It keeps coming back to the Millers.”
Callahan and I exchanged a look.
“Ol’ Buzz has a hard-on for football players and wants his girls to end up with guys who have a chance to play at the next level.” I splayed my hands with a shrug. “Although how Penelope Walker factors into that doesn’t make sense.”
“At the risk of pissing you off, Coach, maybe that guy out there”—Callahan gestured in the direction of the parking lot—“shouldn’t be the only one having a conversation with the college president.”
Coach Ellis blew out a long-suffering sigh. “Yeah, I’ve figured that out, O’Reilly.”
“What was the deal with my truck?” Coach Larkin asked.
Turning to him, I said, “Guess Penelope thought her story would be more believable if I drove a fancy pickup since that’s where I supposedly knocked—” I cleared my throat. “Supposedly got her in a family way.”
