Lucy, who was standing next to the water cooler, was obliged to get out of his way as he strode over to get a drink. She found herself boxed in a corner, between the cooler and the wall, while he stood in front of her, downing one cupful after another.
Lucy tried to ignore her discomfort and continued with her questions. “I understand you guys all go away to summer training camp for a week or so. Did any hazing take place at the camp? Like playing Twister?”
Justin had joined Matt at the cooler, increasing Lucy’s sense of confinement. She was beginning to think the boys were not simply inconsiderate but were purposely harassing her.
“Twister? That’s a game for kids,” said Justin.
“Not the way you guys play it, at least that’s what I’ve heard,” said Lucy, trying to make a joke.
It didn’t go over well. Now Will had joined the others at the cooler. They seemed to be moving closer, pressing her against the wall.
“Uh, fellas,” she said, protesting. “This is a pretty small room but I don’t think we all need to stand so close.”
“What, don’t you know about huddles?” Matt punched Justin in the arm, and he lurched towards her, knocking the pad from her hand.
Lucy felt herself growing angry. She was in a ridiculous situation and she couldn’t see a way out of it. Her instinct was to tell them off, to assert her authority as an adult, but she sensed they would just laugh at her. Physically, she was much smaller than they were and she had a feeling that this was a situation in which size mattered. “Come on, guys,” she said, keeping her tone light. “This is enough. You say there’s no hazing, there’s no hazing. Now I’ve got other things to do.”
She might as well have been talking to the wall. Justin had now raised one hand in a defensive posture and was pummeling Matt with the other. Will was jumping up and down, encouraging him. Lucy was shrinking back into her corner, trying to avoid their fists. She was so absorbed in trying to protect herself that she didn’t notice the door had opened until the boys stopped boxing and moved away from her.
“What’s going on here?” demanded Coach Buck.
“Uh, nothing, sir,” said Matt.
“It didn’t look like nothing to me,” said the coach, turning to Lucy. “Are you all right?”
“Fine,” said Lucy, simultaneously relieved to be rescued and embarrassed that it was necessary. “The boys were just horsing around.”
“Well, I think they owe you an apology,” he said, glaring at them.
“Sorry,” muttered Matt, followed by the others.
“No problem,” said Lucy, taking a deep breath and stepping away from the wall.
“He gave the boys a warning glance and ushered her out into the gym. “What was that all about?”
“I was interviewing them for a story and when Mr. Berg was called away, they got a little rowdy. That’s all.”
His eyes met hers. “What sort of story?”
“The hazing rumors. They all denied it, but their behavior in there makes me wonder,” said Lucy, as they walked together toward the exit.
“Why didn’t you come to me?” asked Coach, an edge to his voice. “Why did you go behind my back?”
Lucy didn’t like being put on the defensive. “I already asked you about it and I didn’t get anywhere. Meanwhile, we’re still getting letters at the paper about naked Twister, forced alcohol, beatings with soccer balls.”
Coach Buck’s expression was a mixture of shock and incredulity. “That’s ridiculous. Where do people get these ideas? Believe me, I would not tolerate anything like that. No way.” He paused and shrugged. “Boys will be boys, I guess. I’m sorry they behaved so rudely. You can be sure they’ll be doing some extra wind sprints today.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear it,” said Lucy.
They were standing by the front door, and Coach Buck extended his hand. Lucy took it, finding his grasp warm and strong. He smiled and Lucy found herself gazing into his eyes, eyes that convinced her he had nothing to hide. Reassured that the players were in good hands, she said good-bye and headed for her car. It wasn’t until she was back at the paper and got a call from Willie Westwood that her doubts began to grow again.
“Lucy, I just thought I ought to let you know that Sara seemed edgy today when I picked her up to take her to practice. In fact, I had to stop the car so she could throw up.”
“Maybe it’s the flu,” said Lucy. “Did you take her home?”
“I tried, but she insisted on going to practice. I’m sorry to bother you at work but I thought you should know.”
“Not at all. Thanks for calling.”
After the call Lucy tried to concentrate on the task at hand, the list of mortgage rates offered by local banks that ran every week, but found her mind drifting back to the uncomfortable few minutes she’d spent in the weight room. She was beginning to wish that Sara had gone out for girls’ soccer or volleyball instead of cheerleading.
CHAPTER 7
Concerned about Willie’s warning, Lucy watched Sara closely all week for signs that something was troubling her but, if there was, Sara was adept at concealing it. And when she drove her to the school on Saturday morning for the traditional preseason game against the Northport Fish Hawks, there was no indication she was anything but excited. Perhaps too excited, fretted Lucy. This year the game was in Northport and the cheerleaders would be riding the bus with the varsity team. After the anonymous letters and her experience in the weight room she wasn’t all that happy about her freshman daughter riding with the varsity players, mostly juniors and seniors, but the younger JV team had no cheerleaders.
Despite her concerns, Lucy had to admit Sara looked adorable in her outfit, a short skirt and tank top in the team colors of red and white. She’d tied her hair up in a perky pony tail and was practically bouncing in her seat when Lucy pulled into the Westwoods’ driveway. As usual, several cats were sunning and grooming themselves in various spots on the warm asphalt, and the dog, an aged golden retriever, ran out to greet them. There was no sign of the controversial pot-bellied pig; Lucy supposed it was kept in a pen of some sort. Or perhaps it was an indoor pet. She figured she’d make its acquaintance one of these days.
Sassie was excited, too, and as soon as she jumped in the car the girls began practicing their cheers. Lucy would have liked to ask them about the boys on the team, and warn them to sit together on the bus, but she couldn’t get a word in edgewise. There wasn’t even time to say good-bye when she pulled up at the high school; the girls were out of the car the second it stopped.
As she watched them run to the bus, their shiny white saddle shoes gleaming in the sunlight, she figured something was definitely up. Her highly sophisticated maternal radar could detect when the anti-parental defense shield was in operation, but her shield-piercing missile was unfortunately still in development. She hoped to have it operational by the time Zoe was in high school.