Chapter 16

quinn texts what to eat and Ollie and I sit with the same lunch. Ella shows up and notices me wincing. I tell them both about PE and Gilbey. None of us has any answers. We all know that we’re in over our heads. But the only thing to do is move ahead.

I spend the rest of the day dreading after school. I don’t think Alva or Gilbey will have a problem roping us into practice and using our bodies as goals.

Quinn’s with Oliver when I arrive in the locker room. They both look at me as if someone in my family just died.

“I take it Ollie told you,” I say.

“Yeah. I’m not surprised. Alva’s controlled, Gilbey’s not. And it’s obvious they’re egging you on. Don’t take the bait.”

I set my bag down. “I don’t plan on it.”

“Good. I’m just going to eavesdrop, in case. Squats today, if your nuts can handle it.” He walks into the weight room.

“Jesus, Greg, you’ve had a rough day. Maybe you should sit this one out?” Ollie shrugs. “And what is it with the bros and balls?”

“No idea about why the balls, but mine are fine.” I pass my phone to Ollie. “Guess we’ll record our own weight today.”

Ollie records while I step on. The digits pop: 315. Holy shit. A couple of weeks and I might be sub-300. Ollie and I high-five and then he weighs himself: 365.

“Shit, Greg, we’re kicking ass and taking names.”

We head into the weight room. Quinn’s at the regular door, has it opened a crack, and I almost ask what he’s doing, but I hear the voice speaking and turn my phone back on.

“The pain game? I don’t think you boys have been doing it right. Not based on what I’ve seen on the field.” The voice. It’s not Alva and it’s not Gilbey.

Quinn turns, sees the phone, and locks eyes with me. “You want me to go?”

I could say yes, let him take the heat, but that’s not right. I need to face this. “No. Together.”

We move into the practice gym through the other door, and in the middle of the floor, with his tie tucked into his shirt, stands Callaghan, lacrosse stick in hand. I freeze, but fortunately Ollie nudges me in the side. “Greg?”

I get our principal square in the center of the screen and focus. The upperclassmen stand across from the underclassmen, as before. The first kid starts with the chant: Our allegiance is to the Warriors, our bodies are weapons . . .

“Watch and learn, boys,” Callaghan says, and fires the first ball into a lax bro.

The kid falls to the ground. There’s a stunned silence, but Callaghan takes no notice. He moves onto the next and when the kid doesn’t say anything, he just whips the ball at his head. He, too, goes down.

“The words. Let me hear them! Your tournament is right around the corner. Without discipline, you will disappoint. If you disappoint, this will only get worse.” Callaghan grabs the next stick in line and the JV player starts reciting. Our principal leans against the stick and listens, his eyes closed. The kid continues, is close to the end. “. . . dominate at whatever cost to our opponent or to . . .” Callaghan pounces, and flicks his wrist so fast that the kid is either caught off guard and stops, or the ball to the stomach ends his words.

“We have the best lacrosse program in the state. This is not opinion, but fact. If you rise to the challenges we set, all of you have a high probability of playing in college, receiving a scholarship. But you have to earn it, here!”

Callaghan continues through the rest of the line, and when it’s all over he hands the stick back to an upperclassman and pulls his tie from his shirt. “Boys,” he says. “If you cannot bring that kind of intensity to practice, you will never have it during the game. And this game can save you. If you let it. Put away your fear of being hurt and replace it with your desire to inflict pain. Then, and only then, will you ever succeed.” He looks at Alva, nods sharply. “We all have eyes on us, gentlemen. Not just on the field. At all times. Best to always bring one hundred percent.”

What the fuck does he mean? Is he . . . are they? There’s no time to tease it through, though, because Callaghan walks away, and is headed toward the weight room.

I set my phone on the bleachers and then nod toward our door. Ollie and Q both look at my phone, but I wave them on and we are back inside the weight room.

“Quick. We have to look like we’ve been working out,” I say.

They don’t hesitate, but run to the squat stand. Ollie puts a bar on his back, and Q starts critiquing his form. “Butt back first.” The door opens and the shoes come toward us.

Ollie racks and I get into position.

“Boys.” Callaghan’s voice is an invitation for us to stop and give him our attention. We oblige. “Greg, where is your phone?”

My insides churn. “I, uh, I left it home.” The words feel stale coming out of my mouth.

Callaghan steps closer. “I saw you with it today.”

I know better than to say I ran home after school. If he saw me with it, he might know I just had it in the computer lab. But I have to stand my ground. He has the power to fuck this all up.

“Feel free to check my bag, all our bags. It’s not here. You may have thought you saw me with it, but you didn’t.”

Callaghan scowls. “Are you calling me a liar?”

“No. I think you are just so used to seeing me with it, you thought you saw something you didn’t.”

Ollie hops in. “What do you need his phone for?”

Callaghan stares at Ollie. “Greg is making excellent progress, and I want to see the evidence.” My head is scrambling to make sense of this. Is he onto me? But then he finishes his statement and I understand. “All of it.”

Callaghan walks out.

We all take a breath, and I sit down on the bench. “Shit, that was close.”

“Your phone, G. You better get it.”

“I’ll wait until they’re done. It’s not worth the risk.”

Ollie gets in my face. “Are you out of your mind? Don’t you realize what you have?”

I nod, still amazed at what’s on there.

“What? G, that was Callaghan, whipping kids in the head with a lacrosse ball. That’s all the evidence you’ll ever need. Combine that with the bros, and it looks like he’s in on all of it.”

“Here’s hoping. I’ll be right back.”

As quietly as I can, I slip into the gym. The pain game appears to be over. Kids are lying on the ground, holding themselves in various places, much like I did earlier today. I wonder how any parent could not see what’s going on. In the same moment, though, I feel my weight and know how much my parents must have turned a blind eye.

“Dun the Ton?” Alva’s voice booms behind me.

My knees buckle. I’ve been spotted. My phone’s in my hands. Callaghan’s probably nearby. Gilbey will probably go get him in a flash and that will be it. But not if we can get away.

I slam through the regular doors. “Q, get your keys! They’re coming!”

And I’m off and into the hall. Quinn and Ollie spill behind me and Q takes the lead. Ollie’s on my heels huffing like an asthmatic but not stopping. I’m running on pure adrenaline as well. No way in hell I could ever have moved this fast before. I don’t even bother to see who’s watching or if Callaghan’s around or if Alva or Gilbey are giving chase. I just follow Q out the door into the parking lot. He starts sprinting and unlocks the car with his remote. He pops the back door, and gets behind the wheel. The car starts just as Alva and Gilbey appear on the far end of the lot. My legs buckle again, but Ollie yells, “Don’t stop, Greg!”

He passes me and I find a burst of speed. The bros see us and then Quinn’s car, and sprint. It’s down to a footrace and there’s no way we can win. But Q backs up and slams on the brakes. “Get in!”

Ollie and I reach the car and pull our fat asses into the back, barely getting the door closed as the bros descend. Alva punches the window, and Gilbey tries the back door. Locked. Quinn screams, “Fuck you!” and floors it, leaving a cloud of burnt rubber and the bros behind us.

It’s not until we’re out on the main road that anyone speaks. Quinn looks at me in the rearview. “You got your phone, right?”

I hold it up so he can see.

“We’re going to pay for this, I just know it, but let’s go see your skills at work. Time to edit before it’s too late.”

• • •

Dad doesn’t even knock, just pops his head in. “Greg, there’s a girl here. Ella?” He can’t hide his grin. Quinn, Ollie, and I all respond at the same time, “Send her up.” Dad shakes his head, and in a moment Ella’s walking into my room. I don’t think I ever thought I’d see this. Her face slides into business mode, and she pulls up next to the computer.

We grabbed chairs from the kitchen table after I explained to my parents that we had a project due immediately. I grabbed one for Ella, too, because I knew she’d be here. Mom’s only question was what class were we all in. I answered, “Blint’s,” and that seemed to suffice. She eyed Ollie like she does me, as if she’s amazed a boy could be so large. She told Quinn it was good to see him again. I have no idea what she said to my father.

I play the video for Ella, and she bites her nails. “Holy shit.”

“Exactly,” I say. “So with this last piece, along with the rest, what do you think?”

Ella takes a moment to think and I’m glad. Quinn and Ollie were practically begging me to send it once I pulled all of the pieces together, but they don’t know shit about film and how it’s analyzed. However, everyone here knows my reputation with it. And we can’t ignore that. Period.

“I don’t want to be a bitch, but, Greg, is it enough?” She looks at me as if we’re the only ones in the room.

“What do you mean?” I ask, even though I see it as she does, from the outside-in.

“Think about it. What do you really have?”

“Uh, I don’t know, kids getting beat and force-fed shit for starters. Then our principal trying to kill someone.” Quinn tilts back in his chair. “Least that’s what I see.” His voice is so condescending I’d like to smack him.

“Sure, because that’s what you want to see.” Ella doesn’t seem offended. Amazingly. “Objectively, you’ve got some kids completing drills that are no worse than what other sports do. ‘Bull in the ring’ for football, ‘Knucklehead’ in soccer, ‘Face slam’ in volleyball. I’ve got video of all of these and interviews with the kids after. They don’t seem to care.”

“But the shit eating?” Ollie asks.

“Could be pudding.”

Ollie and Q grumble at that, but she’s got a point. “It’s true. If no one on that team will say it’s shit, then it could be anything. They are all under Alva’s thumb.”

Ollie and Quinn nod. Then Q says, “True, and it’s not as if they’ll even let Kyle or Stephen leave. It’s like a cult.”

Ella throws up her hands. “And that’s all the more reason you shouldn’t send this shit! This is exactly what I was saying at lunch.”

Ollie shifts forward. “So what are you going to do, Greg? You know we can’t get any more evidence. There’s no way Callaghan’s letting us anywhere near the gym now.”

I look at Ollie and am frightened by the implication. Not only are we cut off from recording, we’re cut off from working out.

“Like Ella said, this has to work or I’m done. There’s no time left.”

Ella sighs. “That’s not the only thing I said, but you’re right, you have only this card to play.”

This is my call. I have to decide. This is when I make a move that shows all I felt today with Gilbey, with Callaghan. I refuse to be afraid of them. And I won’t prove that by playing it safe.

I pull up the school’s website and copy Dr. Philmore’s address. I paste it into my email and write, Urgent! Hazing video attached, for the subject.

Quinn and Ollie help me word the email. Ella stays silent. I attach the video.

In all my years of facing the administration at school for the films I’ve made, I have never been this scared for one that seems so cut and dry, so honest. Yet, at the same time, one that I know could be easily distorted.

I take a deep breath and click send.