A horn pulls her eyes to the rear-view mirror. Behind the Prius, a businessman sitting behind the wheel of a Lambo makes an irritated gesture. Darcy gives him a wave and pulls out. She can’t see Hunter or Jennifer anymore as the massing students swallow them. The sudden violent ebb-and-flow of the crowd tells her two kids are shoving each other inside the throng. Darcy cranes her head as she drives past, anxiety amping her blood pressure until she’s certain Hunter isn’t at the heart of the scrum.
After parking in the visitor’s lot, she stops at the main office to sign in, then she’s off to guidance to take care of Jennifer’s class switch. The hallway floor gleams with the shine of a fresh polish, and student drawings of autumn scenes hang from the walls. As the bell rings, she wades through the sea of students toward the stairs.
The high school basement holds a gymnasium and offices for the coaches, all of whom double as teachers. The doors to the gym are closed. Inside, the gym teacher blows a whistle, and a dodge ball bangs off the door.
At the end of the hallway, Coach Parker’s office appears twice the size of the others. A picture of a younger Parker surrounded by teammates and hoisting a championship trophy hangs prominently on the wall beside plaques for various coaching awards. An imposing figure, Parker’s knees barely fit under his desk. He wears running shorts and a gray hooded sweatshirt. His head is shaved, and a black goatee Darcy assumes the coach dyes girds his mouth. Head buried inside a playbook, he doesn’t notice her until she raps on the door.
“Help ya?”
“Are you Coach Parker?”
His eyes assess her and sneak down to her skirted legs.
“That’s me. Have a seat. What can I do for you?”
“Sorry to bother you, sir. My name is Darcy Gellar.” When he shows no recognition, she adds, “Hunter Gellar’s mother.”
Disgust crosses his face. It’s quick, but she notices. Parker tosses his pencil on the desk and leans back in his chair, fingers interlocked behind his head.
“I must say I pictured you differently.”
Darcy doesn’t like his smile. It feels disingenuous, untrustworthy. His gaze keeps darting to her neckline.
“How so?”
“Well, Hunter is so…”
“Dark?”
Parker snaps his fingers.
“That wasn’t the word I was searching for, but it’ll do.” He cocks his head. “Yeah, now that I look closer I can see the resemblance. You moved to the village recently, correct?”
“From Virginia, yes.” She glosses over her reasons for leaving, though Parker prods her for information. “Hunter and his sister lost their father when they were very young.”
“That’s a tragedy. Kids who grow up without fathers have a difficult time fitting in and often lack discipline.”
If Parker intends to slight Hunter, Darcy shrugs it off.
“Hunter was four when Tyler passed. It hasn’t been easy on him. He asks a lot of questions about his father—where he worked, what he was like, if he looked like Hunter when he was a teen.”
Darcy’s throat constricts at the memory.
“If you don’t mind me asking, was your late-husband an athlete?”
“He ran track in high school. Why?”
“Fast, I bet he was. That’s Hunter. Kid can’t catch, but he can run like the wind.”
“That’s why I came to see you, Coach Parker.” Darcy uncrosses her legs and leans forward. “Hunter is good at sports, especially football, though he will never admit it. He’d rather play it cool and act like he doesn’t need a team.”
“Your boy could turn into a fine receiver, Ms. Gellar. May I call you Darcy?”
“Sure,” she says, wishing he wouldn’t.
“Not quite starting material with the senior talent we have this season, but I could have seen Hunter working into that role next season. But…”
He lifts his palms and shrugs.
“He didn’t wear a dress shirt and tie.”
“It’s required of all players. Refusal to comply results in automatic dismissal. This is a team game, not an assemblage of individuals.”
“But certainly you’ve had exceptions over the years. For example, kids who came from less money and couldn’t afford to dress up.”
Parker’s mouth turns up at the corners.
“Now, Darcy. A simple white button down can be had at Wal-Mart for twenty bucks. Even less if you frequent the consignment shops. And the example you gave doesn’t apply in this situation. I won’t pretend to know your financial situation, but Hunter clearly doesn’t come from poverty. His refusal to comply with team rules is a personal choice. And a selfish one at that. You’ve heard the music he listens to. He’s choosing individuality over the good of the team, and a team of individuals is a team of losers. Hunter let down his teammates, he let me down.”
He’s battling her and concocting reasons why Hunter shouldn’t be on the team. Coach Parker passed judgment on the boy for his love of dark metal and can’t get past his prejudice. Darcy doesn’t understand Hunter’s musical choices, but parents rarely do. Her own mother and father looked out the corners of their eyes when Darcy went through her Cure phase and later adopted grunge. Is today’s music so different? She once attempted to listen to one of Hunter’s favorite bands and gave up after thirty seconds of screeching guitars and guttural screams. Maybe she needs to listen again.
“Surely you believe in second chances.”
“I do, but with Hunter it’s a waste of time. I’ve seen the nose piercing, the sick t-shirts he wears. He’s doing it for shock value. See what I’m getting at? That’s not something I want representing this program. We’ve won two state championships in the last fifteen years, and the community takes pride in the team’s accomplishments.”
“What if I told you he is already complying?”
Parker snickers.
“Hunter Gellar? Dressed up? I’d tell you to prove it.”
“I drove him to school myself.”
“This I must see.” The coach sits forward and clasps his hands on his desk. “You seem like a good mother, Darcy, and though I prefer my players come to me when they have a problem, I appreciate your candor regarding Hunter’s father. I’ll call my captains and ensure Hunter dressed appropriately today. If everything checks out, I’ll allow him to practice.”
“Thank you, Coach Parker. He won’t let you down.”
Parker presses the palms of his hands on his desk and stands up from his chair.
“This is Hunter’s second chance. Understand there won’t be a third.”
Darcy stops for bagels on the way home and picks up a decaf. By the time she pulls into the driveway she regrets the beverage choice. A poor night’s sleep catches up to her, and her legs feel like gelatin as she slogs inside the ranch. The air conditioning hits her with winter’s breath. Someone turned the temperature too low. She adjusts it back to seventy, then she tosses her bag on the floor and lies on the couch, using her toes to pry each heel off. Propping her feet on the armrest, she drags a pillow under her head and closes her eyes.
Did she do the right thing by sticking up for Hunter? Darcy doesn’t want to be one of those parents who fights her kids’ battles.
A lawn mower rumbles down the block. Somewhere a dog barks. Sunlight at the window paints the backs of her eyelids pink as the rays touch her face, melting the chill away. She trusts Hunter will return to the team, especially now that he has Bethany to impress.
Then there’s Jennifer. When Jennifer gets home, Darcy will sit her down and set ground rules. Darcy is overprotective of her daughter and understands it is inherently unfair to deny Jennifer her social life. The girl has done a remarkable job making friends during the few months they’ve lived here. But Darcy won’t allow the outbursts or the vulgar insults. Respect is a two-way street.