Chapter Fifteen
P ractices improved marginally over the next few days, but not quite enough for Jackson to sleep at night.
He spent long hours in the evenings going over game tapes of the upcoming competitors, searching for any signs of weakness or openings where his patched-together offense might sneak through.
He tried to introduce a few new plays, but the team’s confidence was already so low that any reworked configurations or adjusted positioning immediately overwhelmed them.
When two of his running backs collided midfield, he switched gears again and went back to the original playbook.
The last thing they needed was injuries piled on top of the changes they were already dealing with.
“I think we should try the Underdog Blitz again,” Cade said the following morning as he thumbed through Jackson’s makeshift playbook.
“If we move Davila to the outside linebacker position, it just might work. He’s one of our bigger defensive players and the intimidation factor alone might be enough to throw the other team off-balance when they shift closer to the line of scrimmage right before the snap. ”
So long as the poor kid doesn’t trip over himself on the way, Jackson thought.
Davila wasn’t exactly light on his feet.
Tommy, on the other hand, would’ve been great in that position.
He was already back at school and suiting up for practice, but Jackson wasn’t about to let the boy back on the field yet.
His body still needed to rest and recover.
In the meantime, Tommy was still the first to arrive at practice and the last to leave, soaking everything up like a sponge.
He also helped keep an eye on Bishop and stopped the dog from writhing around, paws pointed skyward, to scratch his back on the turf whenever the urge struck.
Allergy meds could only do so much, after all.
“Let’s see how things go at the scrimmage this afternoon.
” Jackson flicked a yellow pencil back and forth between two of his fingers in a fit of restless energy.
“I’m hoping a practice game will remind them that they’ve already got all the skills they need.
They’re still the Bulldogs, even without Stokes, Collier and Brown.
If things go well, we can try the Underdog Blitz again on Monday. ”
“Sounds like a plan.” Cade nodded and flipped the page, brow furrowing as he studied the next play.
It was third period at school on Friday afternoon, one of the few time slots when Cade didn’t teach.
Since the team’s shake-up, he’d started spending as much time as he could in Jackson’s office, helping with strategy and going over various players’ performances.
He liked to prop his feet up on the desks, which drove Simmons mad.
Jackson couldn’t have cared less. He needed as much help as he could get. Besides, when was Bob Simmons not cranky?
At least his assistant coach hadn’t resigned in protest after Jackson announced the player suspensions.
That was a plus, although Jackson had a suspicion Simmons was only sticking around in the hopes of eventually snagging the head coaching position.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out the guy’s backup plan.
“Coach Knight.” Principal Dean rapped his knuckles on the open door to Jackson’s office. “Do you have a minute?”
“Sure.” Jackson stood and waved the principal inside. “Come on in.”
Cade snatched his feet off the desk and sat up straight. “I’ll go check on the locker room while you two talk.”
Principal Dean held up a hand. “No need. You should probably be here for this, too, Coach Montgomery.”
What now? Jackson thought. He wasn’t sure he could take more bad news, so he tried the trick he’d been using to ease his anxiety the past few days—he took a deep breath and pretended to inhale the mouth-watering aroma of a fresh, warm slice from Pigskin Pizza Parlor.
There’d been something magical about that pizza a few nights ago.
He’d left the practice field that evening feeling like everything was going to be okay.
For a few stolen moments, he’d forgotten about the recent trouble with Ryan, his own questionable status on the Cyclones roster and everything that had gone wrong in Bishop Falls since he’d arrived.
He’d even managed to forget about the Victory Club’s very existence.
In his heart, he knew the alchemy hadn’t come from the pizza. Calla had brought the real magic that night. She’d picked him up off the ground, dusted him off and made him believe in himself again, just when he’d needed it most.
But if Jackson allowed himself to think too hard on his feelings for Calla Dunne, he might never stop, and he had games to win…a team to save…an imaginary curse to break. So instead he thought about pizza.
Pizza was comforting. Pizza was delicious. Pizza was safe .
“What’s this about?” Jackson asked as Bishop heaved himself off his dog bed and shuffled toward the principal, angling for attention.
Principal Dean crossed his arms, all business, as per usual, ignoring the panting bulldog at his feet. “Watson Stokes, Hunt Collier and Zander Brown.”
Jackson’s gut churned. “What about them?”
“Save for Monday, they’ve been marked absent every day this week,” the principal said.
Jackson’s pencil flicking kicked up a notch. “I heard rumblings from some of the kids that they haven’t been around, but I didn’t realize all three boys had missed an entire week of school.”
“None of them have set foot on campus since the day they were permanently suspended from the team.” Principal Dean sighed. “I figured they might take a day or two to blow off steam, given the circumstances. But I’m beginning to get concerned.”
Cade leaned forward in his chair. “Are these excused or unexcused absences? Have any of the parents called or emailed?”
“There’s been no contact whatsoever from any of the parents.”
Cade exhaled sharply. “That’s concerning. Two of them have family members in the Victory Club. I figured they were burning up the phone lines trying to get you to force Jackson to reverse his decision.”
Bishop walked back and forth, rubbing against Principal Dean’s legs.
Jackson shook his head. Read the room, dog.
“My office has been exceptionally quiet the past few days. The attendance clerk has made daily calls to all the parents, and each of those attempts rolled to voicemail. None of her many messages have been returned,” the principal said.
“What happens if they don’t show up next week?” Jackson asked. There had to be a limit to how many times a student could be a no-show. As the only person in the room without a degree in education, he just had no idea what that number might be.
“Given the circumstances, I’m willing to give the families a little space.
But this is still a school, and refusing to attend class isn’t acceptable.
” Principal Dean shifted his gaze toward Jackson, his expression briefly softening into something that almost looked pleasant.
“I’m beginning to think suspending those boys from the team was the right call. ”
Jackson arched a brow at his boss. “That almost sounded like a compliment.”
“Don’t get used to it,” Principal Dean said.
Cade covered his mouth with his hand in an obvious effort at stifling a laugh.
Jackson smirked. “I wouldn’t dare, sir.”
The principal’s eyes cut toward Cade. “I’m not sure what you find so funny, Coach Montgomery. This isn’t a laughing matter.”
“You’re right. It’s not.” Cade cleared his throat and schooled his expression. “My apologies.”
“And Coach Knight, what on earth is going on with this dog?” Principal Dean bellowed as Bishop wiggled against his shins again, causing him to stumble backward and bump into a metal filing cabinet.
“Sorry, I think he’s trying to use you as a scratching post. He’s due for his next allergy shot this afternoon.
” Jackson consulted the calendar on his phone.
“We’ve got an appointment at the vet clinic during my free period.
I assume it’s okay if I leave campus for a few minutes to get that taken care of? ”
Mascot caretaking was part of his job, after all.
Principal Dean gave a reluctant nod. “Fine, just—”
“Don’t be tardy,” Jackson said in perfect unison with his boss. Then he grinned. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
The principal released a sigh of quiet exasperation as he exited the office without another word. When the door clicked shut behind him, Jackson turned toward Cade with a self-satisfied smirk.
“I knew it. I’m definitely growing on him,” he said.
“Keep on living in that fantasy land of yours, Coach.” Cade plucked a football from the desk and beamed it at him.
Jackson caught it one-handed before it smacked him in the face, then turned back to the dry-erase board where he’d been working out plays for the scrimmage this afternoon.
Despite it all—the struggles at practice, the suspended players’ mysterious absences and the unprecedented silence of the Victory Club—he felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Calla’s voice played over and over in his head. Pure, perfect magic.
You’re not as alone in this as you think you are.
Someone had to believe in the impossible around here.
It may as well be him.
* * *
“Coach Knight.” The same receptionist who’d been seated at the front desk all the other times Jackson had been to the vet clinic lit up when he strode in during his free period. “It’s great to see you. You’re here for Bishop’s allergy injection, right?”