place. He'd given up expecting a full weekend. He'd been grateful for a trip to McDonald's and a couple of hours at a movie. But seeing her in the stands might signal a definite improvement in their relationship.
Phil told his assistant, Stu, to run the plays. Stu lacked any athletic ability, but Phil recognized his analytical and leadership abilities as assets for the team.
Phil climbed the bleacher steps two at a time to reach Melissa, who sat in the middle of the empty metal benches. "Hey, kiddo, this is a pleasant surprise. How did you get here? Does your mom know where you are?"
Melissa chewed a wad of gum, pulling a long string out of her mouth once in a while. Her tattered jeans and old, stained t-shirt made him feel guilty. He'd press Pam to buy the kid some decent clothes.
"I rode my bike." Phil noted the bicycle parked in the grass. "Mom doesn't care where I go after school as long as I'm home by five. It isn't that far over here. Thought I'd check out the team. They really stunk last year. Looks like they still stink."
At that moment they watched the receiver fumble the ball. Phil winced.
"It's early in the season yet," Phil said. "So, how's school going? Do you like your teachers?"
"They're all right." Melissa kept chewing and watching the football practice, never making eye contact with Phil. Her long, stringy brown hair hung on her bony shoulders.
Phil jiggled his feet impatiently. "Do you need any school supplies?"
"Nah."
Jeez, talking to his own kid was like conversing with a brick wall. Maybe he should just get back to practice and let her watch. He felt like an idiot trying to make small talk.
Then she looked him straight in the eye. "Mom says you're a drunk. Are you?"
Oh, Christ, here we go. "You know I go to AA meetings. Yeah, I've been a drunk."
"Mom says you only sober up for visitations, but you drink the rest of the time."
Phil bit back a curse and kept his cool. "I haven't had a drink in three years."
"Mom says you're a loser."
Phil rested his hands on his wide spread knees. "Well, I've had my ups and downs, just like everybody else. I didn't live up to your mother's expectations. But I'm trying to make up for past mistakes. Don't count me out of the game yet."
Melissa stood up. "If you can make this group of hammerheads into a winning team, I guess you wouldn't be such a loser."
She started down the bleacher steps, then stopped and turned around. "Did you know that a cockroach can live six months without its head?"
Phil couldn't suppress a grin. "No, I didn't know that."
"Oh yeah, it's true. I read it on the Internet. See ya." She bounced down to her bicycle.
Phil watched her slim figure mount the bike and push off. The pressure was on. He had to turn these hammerheads into football players.
He had to do it for Melissa.
* * *
While Phil conversed with Melissa, Maddie sat in her office making up a list of all the items necessary to be done before tomorrow night's Moonlight Madness Dance. The decoration committee planned a silver orb in the midst of a twinkling galaxy dangling above the gym floor. Randy and his ever-popular stack of CD's and karaoke machine would provide the music. Randy played a zany DJ to perfection.
She began writing a memo to the chaperones to remind them of their responsibilities. She'd finished the paragraph telling them to be vigilant about stopping overt PDA (public display of affection) when she heard a light tap on her door. The small, heart-shaped face of Reba Finn, a sophomore who lived near Maddie's cabin, peeked through the window. She motioned the girl in.
"Hey, Miz Harris," said the shy backwoods girl in a timid voice.
"Good afternoon, Reba. Miss the bus, did you?"
Reba shifted heavy textbooks. "Yes, ma'am. I had to go around and get the books checked out to me 'cause I weren't here yesterday and then I was too late for the bus."
Reba had come to Maddie's attention the previous year as she drove by the girl walking along the mountain road
Phil told his assistant, Stu, to run the plays. Stu lacked any athletic ability, but Phil recognized his analytical and leadership abilities as assets for the team.
Phil climbed the bleacher steps two at a time to reach Melissa, who sat in the middle of the empty metal benches. "Hey, kiddo, this is a pleasant surprise. How did you get here? Does your mom know where you are?"
Melissa chewed a wad of gum, pulling a long string out of her mouth once in a while. Her tattered jeans and old, stained t-shirt made him feel guilty. He'd press Pam to buy the kid some decent clothes.
"I rode my bike." Phil noted the bicycle parked in the grass. "Mom doesn't care where I go after school as long as I'm home by five. It isn't that far over here. Thought I'd check out the team. They really stunk last year. Looks like they still stink."
At that moment they watched the receiver fumble the ball. Phil winced.
"It's early in the season yet," Phil said. "So, how's school going? Do you like your teachers?"
"They're all right." Melissa kept chewing and watching the football practice, never making eye contact with Phil. Her long, stringy brown hair hung on her bony shoulders.
Phil jiggled his feet impatiently. "Do you need any school supplies?"
"Nah."
Jeez, talking to his own kid was like conversing with a brick wall. Maybe he should just get back to practice and let her watch. He felt like an idiot trying to make small talk.
Then she looked him straight in the eye. "Mom says you're a drunk. Are you?"
Oh, Christ, here we go. "You know I go to AA meetings. Yeah, I've been a drunk."
"Mom says you only sober up for visitations, but you drink the rest of the time."
Phil bit back a curse and kept his cool. "I haven't had a drink in three years."
"Mom says you're a loser."
Phil rested his hands on his wide spread knees. "Well, I've had my ups and downs, just like everybody else. I didn't live up to your mother's expectations. But I'm trying to make up for past mistakes. Don't count me out of the game yet."
Melissa stood up. "If you can make this group of hammerheads into a winning team, I guess you wouldn't be such a loser."
She started down the bleacher steps, then stopped and turned around. "Did you know that a cockroach can live six months without its head?"
Phil couldn't suppress a grin. "No, I didn't know that."
"Oh yeah, it's true. I read it on the Internet. See ya." She bounced down to her bicycle.
Phil watched her slim figure mount the bike and push off. The pressure was on. He had to turn these hammerheads into football players.
He had to do it for Melissa.
* * *
While Phil conversed with Melissa, Maddie sat in her office making up a list of all the items necessary to be done before tomorrow night's Moonlight Madness Dance. The decoration committee planned a silver orb in the midst of a twinkling galaxy dangling above the gym floor. Randy and his ever-popular stack of CD's and karaoke machine would provide the music. Randy played a zany DJ to perfection.
She began writing a memo to the chaperones to remind them of their responsibilities. She'd finished the paragraph telling them to be vigilant about stopping overt PDA (public display of affection) when she heard a light tap on her door. The small, heart-shaped face of Reba Finn, a sophomore who lived near Maddie's cabin, peeked through the window. She motioned the girl in.
"Hey, Miz Harris," said the shy backwoods girl in a timid voice.
"Good afternoon, Reba. Miss the bus, did you?"
Reba shifted heavy textbooks. "Yes, ma'am. I had to go around and get the books checked out to me 'cause I weren't here yesterday and then I was too late for the bus."
Reba had come to Maddie's attention the previous year as she drove by the girl walking along the mountain road
Similar Books
Wrong Side Of Dead
Kelly Meding
Enchanted
Alethea Kontis
Watermelon Summer
Anna Hess
The Earl and the Governess: An Erotic Romance
Alison Shaw
The Secret Sinclair
Cathy Williams
Murder Misread
P.M. Carlson
Arcadia Awakens
Kai Meyer
Last Chance
Norah McClintock
ShiftinDirty-ElizaGayle
Eliza Gayle
Cursed Be the Child
Mort Castle