Chapter 22

Icouldn't believe it. I felt like all the air had been sucked from my lungs. It had been a rough day between seeing Jameson marched to the principal's office, then the video of us in an intimate moment being passed around on the students' phones, and my own meeting with Mr. Miller.

He'd admitted that whoever had done it had filmed a private moment, and it shouldn't have been distributed the way it was. I hadn't done anything on school property, so there was nothing they could do to me.

They had wider discretion with Jameson's job because they could refuse him as a substitute almost for any reason. Plus, he could be replaced, but I couldn't. Not at this point in the semester.

None of that made me feel any better. I was angry that a parent could do something like this and threaten our jobs. All because a kid was taken out of a sixth-grade football game for poor performance. What was that kid going to do when he was an adult? Call Daddy to clean up his messes forever?

Owen came down the steps. "What happened with Jameson?"

"The rumor mill was right. He's not allowed to coach or substitute teach at our school anymore."

"That sucks."

"Owen," I said.

"Sorry, Mom, but it does. He was a great coach."

"If you feel so strongly about it, you can talk to the athletic director. I'm not sure it will do any good though."

"I don't want to play for anyone else."

"You realize that you probably won't get to play quarterback anymore. Bryce's dad wants him to be the go-to player."

"Even when he throws three interceptions in one game?"

"Life isn't always fair. In fact, it usually isn't." I felt like everything was falling apart. I finally found someone I loved, and I'd already lost him.

"Is this all because you were dating him?"

"Whoever did this used our relationship to make us look bad. But it wasn't wrong. We're allowed to be in a relationship. It's okay to be happy."

"But I lost my coach. Was it worth it?" Owen asked angrily before he stomped up the stairs.

I sighed, my eyes tearing up.

Jameson had broken up with me, and I'd almost gotten in trouble with my boss. Now my kid was pissed at me too. I wasn't so sure it was.

I was grateful it hadn't impacted my job. But substitute teaching was so important to Jameson. He wanted people to see him as responsible and hardworking. Losing his job for something like this had to be eating away at him.

The text chain I was on at school heard the physical education teacher was taking over the football team. I searched for his number in the school's directory and dialed it.

"Martin, here."

"Martin, it's Claire Coleman. I heard you're coaching the football team."

"You know I can't talk about your kid's play on the field. That's what got Jameson in trouble," Martin said gruffly.

"That's not why I was calling. I was hoping you'd let me talk to the team at the next practice about what happened. I think I have a plan for making this right."

"You know the administration won't change its mind."

"Maybe not. But we can show them how wrong they were. They weren't there; they didn't see the good he did with the team, how he encouraged them and boosted their confidence. My son is on a workout regimen, he's building muscle, and Jameson taught him to play two positions. He did an incredible job, and I think Mr. Elias needs to know that."

"I've seen a difference in these kids in gym class too. What's your plan?"

I let out a breath. "It's a long shot. But I'm hoping the kids will talk to Mr. Elias about their experiences."

"You think they will?" Martin asked thoughtfully.

"I don't know about Bryce since it was most likely his father that set everything into motion. But if we can get the majority of the team, I think that will help. Jameson thinks he screwed up. That this is proof that he's not meant to be a coach or a teacher. That couldn't be further from the truth."

"He was a good coach. This situation sucks, and it could have happened to any one of us."

"It's almost like anyone could follow you, film you in a compromising position, then get your job jeopardized."

"A parent disgruntled with their kids' grades or whether they get detention for misbehaving," Martin added.

"Exactly. I think this issue is bigger than just one substitute teacher or coach. This affects all of us."

"I just read about a principal in the area that was suspended because he was investigating a teacher stealing money, and that teacher created an AI audio recording of him making racial slurs. It wasn't even real, but he was suspended pending an investigation that went on for months."

I'd read about that too. "And the teacher that was being investigated for the theft still had their job."

"This isn't right. I'll do whatever I can to help."

"I appreciate that. For now, I'd just like a chance to speak to your team. See if they'd be willing to share their experiences with the administration."

"The floor, or I should say the field, will be yours. Tomorrow after school?"

"I'll be there. Thanks again," I said as I got off the phone. This wasn't just about me and Jameson. This could happen to any teacher. That was the approach I needed to take. Whether Jameson would see things differently was another story, and there wasn't much I could do about that.

* * *

Owen wasn't speaking to me. He blamed me for upending his life, and I couldn't blame him. I know he liked Jameson as a friend and a mentor, but he didn't quite see that we were working toward something bigger. That maybe we could have had a future together, maybe even been a family. He was shortsighted, only wanting his coach and friend back.

Unfortunately, Jameson's confidence was so shaken; I wasn't sure he'd see his way to the other side. He couldn't see things differently, and I couldn't change his mind. That was up to him.

Today, I had a bigger challenge. I needed to convince a team of kids to talk to the administration. I was worried some parents would object.

I just hoped I was doing the right thing. It felt like I was fighting for Jameson, but he wasn't fighting for himself. And I couldn't do that for him. But I wanted to help, to prevent something like this from happening again.

The gossip about what happened to Jameson and the team was still circulating the school the next day. Thankfully, I didn't see any more videos of me jumping into Jameson's arms. It hurt too much, and the kids were threatened with losing phone privileges if it was played or distributed during school hours.

By the end of the day, I was a nervous wreck. I was doubting my abilities to convince a bunch of twelve-year-old kids to listen to me when mine didn't support me.

I changed out of my heels into comfortable walking shoes at the end of the day, then made my way to the field. The kids were seated in front of Martin, who was probably telling them he was their new coach for the foreseeable future.

When I approached, the kids' faces were a mix of disappointment and confusion.

"Ms. Coleman is here to talk to you about what happened. Please be respectful and listen to what she has to say. It affects the team and your old coach, Jameson Calloway."

Their focus shifted to me, and I tried to remember that I was a teacher; I was used to staring down twelve-year-olds all day in the classroom. Being on the field was no different.

"I wanted to talk to you about what happened, and how you might be able to help Mr. Calloway."

"How can we do that, Ms. Coleman? He was fired," Will said.

"He was suspended, but yes, it has the same affect. You don't have your coach, and you have to finish your season without him."

"He was the one who told us to believe in ourselves," Kurt said.

"Yeah, I wouldn't have even tried the cornerback position if he hadn't told me I could do it," another called out.

"That's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about. You'll have good coaches and bad ones over the years, but I have a feeling Mr. Calloway was one of the good ones."

"He was the best," Bryce grumbled, and I wondered if he was upset by his father's actions.

"Yeah," a few other kids agreed.

Owen's jaw was set in a stubborn line, and he wouldn't look at me.

"If you had a good experience with Mr. Calloway, I was hoping you'd share it with the athletic director, Mr. Elias, and the principal, Mr. Miller. I'm not promising it will change their decision. But I think it will show them what kind of man Coach Calloway is. That he was a good influence on you guys."

"Do you think they'd let him come back?" Kurt asked.

"I can't make any promises, and knowing the way school administrations work, I doubt it. But it would be something nice we could do for Mr. Calloway."

"I want to help."

"Me too."

One by one all the kids agreed to talk to the administration about their experiences.

"I can sit with you during the meeting. But you'll need your parents' permission." I handed out the permission slip.

Then I stood in front of them again. "We can't always control what's going on in the world around us. But we can control our actions and reactions."

Martin approached. "Thanks for coming to talk to us today. I have a feeling we aren't going to get a lot accomplished this practice."

"Thanks for letting me speak with them." Not everyone would have. Most people tried to stay as far away from a scandal as they could get.

"Kids, why don't you put the permission slip in your backpacks, take a lap, and stretch. We'll play a pickup game today."

The kids cheered half-heartedly as they got up to take a lap. Bryce hung back.

"Is everything okay, Bryce?" Martin asked.

His face scrunched. "I feel bad about what happened with Coach."

"It's not your fault," I said, quick to alleviate his guilt. He was a child after all.

His forehead wrinkled. "I complained to my dad that Coach took me out."

"There's nothing wrong with being upset when something like that happens."

"But I knew my dad would do something. I just thought he'd talk to him. I didn't think he'd go to the athletic director or the principal. I didn't want Coach to lose his job."

"This isn't your fault," I said firmly. The blame rested firmly in his father's hands if he was the one who set everything into motion.

"I was with Dad when he followed Coach to your house."

I sucked in a breath. We assumed it was him, but we hadn't had any confirmation until now.

"This isn't your fault. I'm sorry you were involved in it."

"Join your team," Martin said.

When Bryce jogged away, I said, "I can't believe his dad took him with him to film us. It was wrong, and he brought his kid along for the ride."

"It's fucked up," Martin said softly. "But we suspected him all along."

"It's still shocking to hear he did it with his kid in the car. It already felt like an invasion of privacy, but—"

"Knowing his kid was there is worse."

"It sure is. Thanks for letting me talk to them. I'm not sure all the parents will allow them to do it, but hopefully we get a few. I just couldn't stand by and do nothing."

Martin went to his bag on the sidelines and pulled out a piece of paper with signatures. "I talked to the other teachers. We started a petition to reinstate Jameson as a sub. He's the best one we had. Everyone loves him."

"I can't believe you did that. It's so incredibly thoughtful."

"You know how short we are on subs. If we don't have one, we all pitch in to help, and I can't do one more cooking class." Martin shuddered. "Those kids think eggshells go in the pancakes."

I laughed, feeling a little lighter than before. "It's your job to teach them to remove the shell."

Martin shook his head. "I just don't have it in me. We need more subs like Jameson, not fewer. The decision to ban him was shortsighted and just plain wrong."

I touched his arm. "Thank you for going to bat for Jameson. I'm sure he'll appreciate it."

Martin shrugged. "I don't know what good it will do."

We all knew how difficult things could be with the administration. They had the board, the parents, and the general public to answer to. I understood the position our actions put them in. "It's the thought that counts."

"How are you and Jameson?"

I shrugged even as my eyes pricked with tears. "He feels like he screwed up. He doesn't want to jeopardize my job."

"Did he break things off?"

I nodded. "I think so."

"I hope he comes around and sees how lucky he is."

"You're sweet. Thank you."

"I'll be by your side when you take the kids to talk to the administration."

"I can't thank you enough for everything you've done." I didn't have a reason to spend much time with Martin since he worked in the gym, but I was glad to get to know him better now. He was a good ally to have in all of this. The athletic director already knew and most likely respected him.

I didn't have any knowledge about teams, coaching, or football. But I knew a good man when I saw him. And Jameson Calloway was one even if he didn't always see it or believe it.

The kids finished their lap and formed a lopsided circle on the fifty-yard line.

"Let me get back to the kids," Martin said to me as he moved toward them. "I think we can do better than this. Let's make Coach Calloway proud."

The kids fanned out, trying to form a better circle. Jameson always emphasized how important presentation was to the other team. Do you want a perfect circle or one that was sloppy?

We'd need to put our best case forward in front of the administration and hope it swayed them.

The important thing was that they realized they were losing a good thing in Jameson. Even if I didn't hold out much hope for them to reverse their decision.