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the credentialing process — after you graduate.”
    “I understand.”
    The interview lasted another fifteen minutes while they talked about teaching styles and the importance of hard work and family and faith to the kids of Lyle. “It’s a public school, yes. But this is a community that lives and dies by the success of the crops that surround us. The people of Lyle understand hard work and they’re early to church every Sunday.”
    “Yes, ma’am.” Cody felt the light in his eyes. “I can relate.”
    Ms. Baker’s expression softened. “I thought so.”
    A few more minutes and the principal led Cody to the school’s gym. Inside, a class of maybe thirty guys was counting off jumping jacks while the coach barked out orders. “Faster! Louder! Come on guys. This is February. Champions are made in the off-season!”
    Cody wondered if he’d like the man. Some coaches could yell and still get their point across, still show love and concern for their players. Others were mostly a lot of hot air. They stepped inside, and Ms. Baker waited until the coach spotted her. He blew his whistle. “Take five. Get some water. We’ll try it again after that.” The man’s scowl remained as he walked over. “Ms. Baker,” he nodded, terse, serious.
    “Coach Oliver, this is Cody Coleman. The candidate sent over by the university.”
    “Right.” The man gave Cody a quick once-over. “The kid on the emergency credential.”
    A slight look of irritation came over Ms. Baker’s face, but only for a moment. “I’m prepared to offer him the position if he’ll take it.” Her approval of Cody was clear. “But he’ll be your assistant. I’d like the two of you to talk for a few minutes, and then include Mr. Coleman in your practice this afternoon. So he can know if he’d like to be a part of our program.”
    “Got it.” Coach Oliver’s surly attitude remained. “Thank you, Ms. Baker.”
    She nodded and smiled again at Cody. “Talk to me before you leave. I’ll be in my office.”
    “Yes, ma’am.” Cody wasn’t sure what was going on, but clearly there was tension between the coach and principal. It was easy to pick sides.
    Ms. Baker left and Coach Oliver stared at him. “Notice she didn’t say, ‘Winning program.’” He sneered. “I’ve been coaching here for two years, and we haven’t won a game.” He took a step closer. “Know why?”
    “No, sir.” Cody crossed his arms.
    “Because of Coach John Brown.”
    Cody could imagine how baffled he must’ve looked. “I’m … sorry, coach. I don’t know John Brown.”
    The man raised his eyebrows. “I thought you were from Bloomington.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Boy … everyone in the state knows John Brown. He’s a legend. Won a state title with Lyle for the 1A division six years in a row.” He tossed his hand. “Retired two years ago when the talent dried up.” He lowered his voice and leaned closer. “Even John Brown couldn’t make a winning season out of this sorry group a’ kids.”
    Cody nodded. He glanced at the guys, huddled in clusters around the drinking fountain. A couple of them were big — six-four, six-five maybe. Nothing about the group looked especially inept.
    “Sure.” The coach shrugged. “I need an assistant. I need an offense and a defense, for that matter. You can at least help me coach. Give the parents someone else to be angry at.”
    Cody crossed his arms. If this was Coach Oliver’s sales pitch for Lyle, it was falling flat. He nodded absently, not sure if he was supposed to respond.
    Without warning, the man turned to the kids and blew his whistle. “Time’s up. Back in formation.”
    Interview over,
Cody thought. He could already picture himself telling Ms. Baker no thanks. He didn’t want to drive out here every day, and he had no desire to take heat from parents because of the defeated mind-set of Coach Oliver. A few minutes later — when the coach was finished with calisthenics — he led the team outside to the