But the two college programs I had applied to—both at D3 schools—had rejected me. Maybe I would apply for other jobs. Maybe I had peaked in high school. Plus, I really did love this place and these kids.
I leaned forward, the springs in my rolling chair squeaking. “Between our five a.m. workout and practice today, your shoulder has had enough. I want you to ice it for ten minutes, do the stretches I gave you, and wear your sleeve for a few hours tonight.” I paused. “Have you liked the KT Tape?”
He shrugged. “Yeah. I mean, I think so. Can’t hurt.”
I nodded. “I’ll tape you up before the game.” The KT Tape was supposed to support ligaments, muscles, and tendons. It took away some of my lingering pain. When I had been Drew’s age, I thought I was invincible. Now I knew better. And I wanted to save him from that.
I stood up. “I just want you to rest and get some sleep tonight, so we can hook a big one in the morning.” I grinned.
“You know some of these guys have never been offshore?” Drew asked, incredulous.
It was remarkable to think that you could live on the water your whole life and never have the opportunity to experience one of its greatest sports, but, yeah, I believed it.
“Maybe remind them all to take a half Dramamine before bed and a half before we leave in the morning,” I said, getting up. “I’ll see you bright and early, but, for now, I’m going to go take the cardboard from the new gear to the recycling.”
“Heroes don’t haul cardboard!” Drew protested, making me laugh. Standing up too, he followed me out of the office and onto the side of the field, where the pile was waiting.
“Heroes haul their own cardboard in underfunded public schools.”
He nodded. “Well, maybe one day I’ll come back and be your assistant coach, Coach.”
I smiled at him and clapped him on the shoulder. “No way. You’re the real deal. Big-time.” I hated how it still stung, all these years later, when I said that. Was I still harboring the resentment for what happened so long ago—something that was, yeah, just a little bit my fault—because I was still here, in Cape Carolina? I didn’t love thoughts like these. I liked simple. I liked to chill out and be happy. So I took a deep breath as Drew scooped up the remaining cardboard and followed me toward the woods.
“Hey, Coach?”
“Yeah?”
“Do these woods ever creep you out?”
“These woods for sure creep me out.” Combined with the scent of never-dry, always-decaying earth under the thick canopy of trees and the constant threat of snakes, rats, or other unwelcome wildlife, it wasn’t my favorite place to be. Even still, I, like many, many kids before and after me, had done my fair share of making out in these woods behind the gym when I was in high school despite the fact thatit stank of dumpster and wet cardboard. High school boy hormones can overcome a lot of obstacles.
“So you aren’t doing a lot of hooking up behind the dumpster?” I joked.
He laughed. “Nah. My parents would kill me. My dad says I can’t have a girlfriend, says I have to stay focused on baseball until I get that full ride to college.”
“Good advice,” I said. “Unrealistic. But good advice.”
As we got closer to the dumpster, I heard a sound it took me a minute to recognize. A soft, low mewling. “Damn it,” I said under my breath.
“Whatisthat?” Drew asked.
“Sounds like a kitten,” I said. “Idiots are always dumping them back here.”
Maybe “always” was an exaggeration, but this would be the third time I’d fished one or more kittens out of here, gotten them fixed, and taken them to the peninsula where my family’s house and our neighbors and best family friends’, the Saxtons, houses were. Mr. Saxton was a farmer, and he loved a barn cat. There was plenty of room for the cats to roam, plenty of shelter, and they kept varmints away from the crops. Plus, I loved a good kitten.
As we got closer, I could hear that the noise was at least coming from the recycling, not the garbage. So that was a bonus.
“Want me to climb in there?” Drew asked.
I shook my head. “Nah. We have to protect that cannon.” The top of the bin was open, which annoyed me to no end. If people could just close the freaking top, animals couldn’t fall in here accidentally and get trapped. Rain wouldn’t get in the cardboard and make that smell. Sometimes I wondered about all these supposedly educated humans I was sharing a school with.
I dropped the stack of cardboard and put my foot on the ledge, hoisting myself up high enough to see inside the recycling dumpster. Maybe I’d get lucky, and I wouldn’t have to climb all the way in.
At first glance, I’m pretty sure my brain didn’t register what I was seeing. But it must have kicked in enough that my “Holy hell!” was pretty dramatic. Because Drew dropped his cardboard and climbed up beside me.
“Oh my God!” he nearly yelled. “Coach, what do we do?”
For most of my life, I haven’t been what you would consider good in a crisis.
