“Doyouthink it’s a good plan?”
He looks down at his hands. “I don’t know, maybe.”
The silence continues and I can tell he feels embarrassed by his comment that he’s resisting carrying on this important discussion. I clasp my hands tighter, fighting back my intrusive thoughts to snap at him togrow up,and take a deep breath.
“Garrett,” I whisper. His head is still hanging, but he looks up at me through his eyelashes, a pout peaking through. I roll my eyes. “Fine. You get thirty seconds.”
“What?” he asks, confused, one eyebrow lifted higher than the other.
“You get thirty seconds to speak your mind about Mr. Divata and myself. Nothing grotesque or obscene, and I will not answer any questions. Got it?”
Garrett sits up straighter, leaning forward as if he is setting up for a sprint. Groaning, I point to the clock indicating the time and wave my hand presenting him the metaphorical stage.
“Alright, this guy is so into you. We haven’t seen him date anyone since some girl named Penny or something like three years ago, and she wasweird.” His voice picks up—he's clearly overly excited to be dishing this out. “The whole senior class wants you guys to go to homecoming and prom together, and they wanna crown you guys. Obviously won’t happen if Birdie has anything to do with it, but it would be tight to see. And the guy is a saint, literally sent from the universe to protect us.” A lump in my throat forms as Garrett goes on and on about Benny and what he does for all of them. “You know he stayed at the hospital with me for five hours after my surgery because my parents had work? And he took Charlie to Texas for baseball tryouts because no one would take him?” He stopped abruptly, looking at the clock.
Thirty seconds.
A moment of silence passes before Garrett whispers, “He’s my hero.” His voice is vulnerable and timid, like I would make fun of him for what he just shared.
I wait for him to go on, selfishly because I want to know everything about Benny and hear all of the amazing things he does for these kids. But also because I sense Garrett needs to get something off his chest.
“He’s the only one who truly believed in me.” He sniffles. “Outside of football, Mr. B is the only one who thought I could still get into college after my knee. He has full faith I can pull it around. My parents just laugh at me when I tell them I still want to go.” He pauses, looking through the window at the empty hall. The students have all made it to class, with a few stragglers shutting lockers and high tailing it before they’re tardy.
“Why do you think they laugh?” I ask, knowing full well the answer. Benny shared about Garrett’s parents. About how Garrett is the youngest of five and not a single one of them has gone on to college. Garrett’s dad is a warehouse manager and his mom is a librarian. Both respective jobs in their own right, but the aspect of college was never financially doable for his siblings. Football was the only way in their minds, any other avenue wasn’t plausible.
He shrugs at me, refusing to acknowledge that we are probably thinking the same thing.
“What do you say we prove them wrong?” I ask.
“How so?”
“Well, I spoke with Coach Dawson at Central State and he’s agreed to give our plan a shot.”
“Seriously?” Garretts eyes are big and puppy-like, disbelief washing across his face.
“Seriously.” I smile at him. “Contingent on you maintaining a B average in your final course load, and you have to meet requirements at training camp next month.”
“My knee though.” He grimaces as he repositions his boot and bandage-covered leg.
I walk around from my desk to hand him a list of training requirements. “They have scaled their expectations.” He takes the list from me, reading the list carefully. “If you meet those and follow doctor’s orders for recovery to get medical clearance, you’ll be able to join as their second string for next fall.”
The pride wells up inside me as I wait for Garrett to respond. This plan took more energy than calling about rehab placement for my frequent flyers. Calling my connections at Central State, multiple meetings with the coaches and Dean, advocating for Garrett, Benny writing a recommendation letter. He was the last student on my list of crises, and by far the most complex. The challenge of solving it was fun, but the burdening reality that it might not work out was emotionally taxing. I’d grown to adore Garrett and his quirks, his heart for others so open and accepting. I put all of his eggs in this Central State basket, not knowing if he would even be open to the idea of playing second string, let alone at a non-conference college.
It was a long shot, but I was proud of the plan and the accomplishment of orchestrating it all. Even Benny told me Patsy couldn’t have come up with the idea. Which is definitely not true, but I appreciated his accolades nonetheless.
My nerves started to take over as Garrett remained silent. Watching as he slowly crinkled the paper and placed his head in his hands, shoulders moving up and down slightly. He was crying.
I let out a slow breath. “I’m sorry if this isn’t what you had hoped for. I called a few other schools to see but—”
My sentence is cut off by a bear hug. Garrett had leapt from his chair, towering over me, and squeezing me around my shoulders as he sobs. Weepy “thank you’s” billowing out of him like uncontrollable waves.
With my arms pinned to my sides, I awkwardly twist to pat him on the side of the arm. “Just doing my job.”
“Thank you for believing in me,” he whispers as he squeezes tight once more before letting go to look at me, his cheeks wet from his happy tears. His happiness was palpable.
With my shoulders slightly aching, I gingerly fist bump him before he crutches out of my office.
“Could you put that thing away and help me carry these?” Emma was carrying three large, burlap sacks full of potatoes.
