Page 30 of Coached By the Grumpy Gargoyle

He nods, quickly, his shoulders lifting with a breath.

"You don't have to be in the room for it," I say. "What you just did was already the brave part. I can carry it from here."

"No." Fast. Then he straightens inside the hoodie, and when he speaks again, it's the steadiest I have ever heard this kid. “I need to do this.”

I look at him for a moment. He's still nervous. His hands haven't stopped shaking, but he wants to walk into that office with me. I reach for my bag, suddenly impatient to get us there.

"Then we go together." I sling my bag over my shoulder, pick up the phone, and hold the door for him. He steps into the corridor and waits for me.

The main corridor is quiet after lunch, the smell of tater tots still lingering near the cafeteria. Every classroom door is shut on fifth period. My heels hit the terrazzo fast, the too-fast click this whole building can identify blindfolded, and Eli's sneakers squeak double-time beside me. We pass the athletics junction without slowing. I keep my eyes ahead, past the trophy case with its polished hardware, toward the admin suite.

Gene Thackery told me I had nothing.

This time, he’s the one who’s going to squirm.

Chapter 12

Bram

Gene Thackery still thinks he can make me back down.

It's two in the afternoon on the longest Thursday of my life. Dismissal is half an hour out. Across Patricia Oakes's conference table, Gene holds my gaze while she reads my request to remove Cole from the roster.

I let him glare. He knows what I saw. He knows why we're here.

Her office smells of radiator dust and old oak, and the radiator under the window knocks while we sit. Eight mismatched chairs surround the table. Gene and I are facing each other across the wood. Cole sits beside Gene on another chair, wings furled tight behind him, his knees together and his hands in his lap.

He tries his best to look like a perfectly behaved young gargoyle. He could fool me again if I hadn’t seen what he did with my own eyes. Going over Gene’s head felt strange after eight years of taking my problems to him, but I didn't hesitate.

Now we all sit in front of Principal Oakes, and Gene has brought Cole here to tell her I got it wrong.

"So your account is horseplay," Patricia says to Cole, over the top of her reading glasses, her pen poised above her pad.

"We were messing around, ma'am." Cole sits a little straighter, giving her the respectful attention I've seen him give college recruiters. "Eli and I go back and forth like that all the time. It's a locker room. I'd never actually hurt him. He's basically part of the team." He smiles at her. "Honestly, I think Coach Stryge walked in on the wrong thirty seconds and read it wrong. No disrespect, Coach."

I've heard that easy voice for four years. He fooled me this long, but not anymore. That kid needs to learn that his behavior has consequences. I keep my hands on my knees and wait for Patricia to finish with him.

"Coach Thackery, what do you want to add to this?"

"Patricia, I've run this program half my life," Gene says, settling back in his chair. "If there was a problem in my locker room, I'd know. If Cole says he was just horseplaying with Eli and Eli isn’t even here to back the complaint, I don’t even know why we’re here. There’s nothing to support this request to remove Cole from the roster, much less ruin a young man’s entire football career."

"Noted." Patricia makes a mark on the pad. "Continue."

A brisk knock comes before anyone can reply. The admin secretary opens the door and starts to announce someone, but Athena Braddock walks in before she can finish.

Cole's mother is six foot four of slate-gray gargoyle in a tailored back-vented coat, her black hair streaked with white and swept into a low knot. Her dark wings are folded neatly behind her. She pauses inside the doorway, takes in the people around the table, and fixes her eyes on her son.

"Mom." Cole's voice cracks on the word. "What are you doing here?"

Cole pulls his hands into his lap again, but his confidence has leached away in a split second. Gargoyles don’t play when it comes to honor, and I’ve known Athena for years. I knew she would believe me, which is why I called her earlier this morning.

Gene gets halfway up. "Athena. You didn't need to come all this way for such a silly matter."

"Mrs. Braddock," Patricia interrupts, "take a chair. Parents are always welcome during an inquiry."

Athena takes the chair at the end of the table and folds her polished talons together on the wood. Her eyes are the same pale amber as her son's, and she keeps them on him until he looks down, which doesn’t take long. She hasn't said a word.

Cole turns to me. "You called my parents."