“What?!” I feel like I’ve just taken a hit by a linebacker twice my size. I don’t understand.
“I heard Ms. Jenkins and Mr. Leonard talking about it after school. They didn’t know Ciara and I were standing outside the door.”
“Why were you with Ciara?” I ask, distracted by the thought of her, but trying to sound casual. Anton knows I’ve had a crush on Ciara Johnson for years—I’ve never been good at hiding anything from him.
“Dude!” Anton looks at me, shaking his head. “Ciara and I both had to make up a quiz, but that’s not the important part of this story. Didn’t you just hear me? They want to close down our school!”
“Right,” I say, getting back on topic. “Why? Why do they want to do that?” I look past the goal posts and up at our school. The red brick building sits on top of a hill. It isn’t a great school, but it isn’t bad. My parents went here and my grandfather too. It has withstood a fire and a century of harsh winters. It’s an anchor in this town. I may not love school, but I can’t imagine going anywhere else.
“The school needs too many repairs,” Anton says. “And there isn’t any money in this town to fix it up—not since everybody lost their jobs at the mine.”
Three years ago the iron ore mines just outside of town shut down. The company keeps saying they’ll reopen, but they haven’t. There are a lot of families struggling to make ends meet. My dad left to work in the oil fields until the mines reopen. It’s a twelve-hour drive from here, and he lives in camper attached to the back of his truck. We only see him one weekend a month. He says it’s just temporary—that it’s just a matter of time before the mines reopen—but it’s been over a year now.
I hold the football tightly between my two hands.
“They’re just going to close it down? What are we going to do next year? Our senior year? Where are we supposed to go?”
Anton kneels down to tie his cleat.
“I heard Ms. Jenkins say half of us will be sent to Caulfield High and the other half to Pine Falls.”
“Send us to different schools? Split us all up?” The words tumble hard and fast out of my mouth. Thoughts of having to spend my senior year at either one of those schools make me feel sick. I can’t imagine walking down a hallway and not seeing half the faces I know—faces like Anton’s and Ciara’s.
The rest of our team comes out on the field.
“What about the Wolves? What about Coach Quimbley?” I ask.
Anton shakes his head. “This could be it for the Wolves.”