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James took her out to dinner that night. At the same restaurant. Where they both ordered beef. Again. She had offered to cook for him some night, but he had quoted Paul, “Give them no cause, lest the ministry be discredited.”
After they’d ordered, she finally let go of the question that had been squirming to be set free. “How well do you know Milton Darling?”
James furrowed his handsome brow. “Why?”
“Because he’s not very nice to me.”
“What does that mean?”
“I mean, he’s kind of a bully, so I thought maybe you could give me some insight as to how to deal with him.” And maybe even beat him up for me, she added silently.
James shook his head. “I don’t want to speak ill of him, but we weren’t friends. He was an excellent player. Had two sisters who played too. His father was their coach. His father was a great coach, so Milton was a shoo-in for the job, and I have no evidence that he isn’t a great coach too.”
“What does that mean, you have no evidence?”
“Huh?”
“Why not just say, ‘He’s a great coach’? Saying you have no evidence makes it sound like you think he’s not a great coach.”
“I don’t know, Emily.” James sounded annoyed. “I don’t really think much about basketball anymore. Is that what he’s giving you trouble about, basketball?”
“Yes. I had the kids write an opinion piece about whether or not basketball is good for the island.”
James paused, apparently letting his brain absorb this. Then, “What were you thinking?”
“What? The kids can’t have opinions?”
“Well, no, not really. And if a player writes that basketball isn’t good for this island, she’s going to get benched, or worse.”
“What do you mean worse?”
“I just mean the community might hold it against her.”
“The community? Are you kidding? These are just kids! Doing an assignment! What is the big deal?”
James leaned forward. “I know you don’t care about sports. I don’t either, anymore, but most of this island does care, so can you just embrace it? Basketball is important here. It’s what we have. It’s what gets us through the winters.”
And we’re back to the winter, Emily thought. “So you’re saying it’s my fault that a grown man, a professional teacher, got in my face and hollered at me?”
“I didn’t say that. He got in your face? I’ll talk to him.”
Finally.
“Is that OK? You mind if I talk to him? Don’t want to embarrass you or anything.”
“No. I would be grateful if you’d talk to him.”
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Emily asked Duke to share one of his basketball opinion pieces. He read a poignant piece about how basketball is just a stupid game that gives adults an excuse to act like children and allows people who are miserable with their lives to live vicariously through their offspring.
Emily praised him for a well-organized essay and then asked him to read his second piece. He rolled his eyes, but he complied.
This one was a short poem, citing that basketball was good for exercise and for learning to be part of a team. He couldn’t have sounded less sincere. As he sat back down, he said, “Hailey’s turn.”
Hailey shook her head.
“Would you like to share?” Emily asked her.
“No, thank you.”
“OK, then, Thomas? Would you—”
“That’s not fair!” Duke cried.
“Duke,” Emily said, trying not to sound as exasperated as she felt, “no one made you read. You did, and you will get credit for your efforts. I’m not going to make anyone share anything personal that they wrote.”
Duke crossed his arms and slumped in his chair. Everyone else shared their pieces, but no real revelations were made. The pros all sounded pretty much the same, as though they’d been hearing them since birth, and the con’s—with the exception of Duke’s—all sounded like teen angst.
The bell rang, and people dropped their poems and essays on her desk. She shuffled through them till she found Hailey’s, which were the only ones she hadn’t heard.
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Basketball Is Good for This Island
By Hailey Leadbetter
My parents met at a basketball game. My mom is from Valley, and when her team came to play on the island, my dad’s family hosted her. They say it was love at first sight. I’m not sure if this is true, but I do know that if it weren’t for basketball, I wouldn’t even exist.
I have been playing for as long as I can remember. I can’t ever remember not loving basketball. I love it more than anything, other than my family, who also loves it.
I don’t think I’d know who I was if it weren’t for basketball. Basketball gives me something to do, something to care about, something to work hard for. I’m not sure what goals I would have or what I would spend my time on if it weren’t for ball.
As for the island, it’s pretty much the same. What would everyone do all winter, if not cheer on the kids? Would they all sit around, drinking and watching television? I think so. Basketball gives us a sense of community. We all come together for it. We are all on the same side. When someone does fight about something, they can still come together in the gym and be friends.
If you take away basketball, this island only has one thing: lobsters. And while that’s important, not everyone is a lobsterman. So what about the rest of us? What can we say we’re good at? What can we take pride in? Nothing. That’s why we need basketball.
A little short on word count, but not poorly written. On to part B of the assignment.
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Darkness
By Hailey Leadbetter
The surface of the water looks so calm and peaceful
But just beneath it there is a sticky darkness
No one wants to touch or talk about
I am scared of this darkness
And I like to pretend it’s not there
If no one talks about it
Will it go away
Is there anything I can do to make it
Go away
I work so hard, play so hard,
Think so hard, sweat so hard
So that maybe the darkness
Won’t be real
Because I don’t really know
Who the darkness is eating
Or who it will eat next
All I know is, it’s not eating me
And maybe that’s what makes me most sad
Why doesn’t the darkness want me?
As she read the last line, she was already out of her chair and headed down the hall. “Have you seen Hailey?” she asked Hannah.
“She’s probably already in the gym.”
Of course, Emily thought, basketball practice.
She entered the gym, but it was empty. She trucked right through and into the locker room, where some girls were already changing.
“Miss Morse!” Jasmine gasped accusingly.
“Hailey, I need to talk to you!”
Hailey, not seeming too surprised, nodded, and slipped her practice jersey over her head. Then she headed out of the locker room and into the gym, where Milton was now rolling a bin of basketballs across the floor. He looked at them suspiciously.
“Not here,” Emily muttered, and led Hailey out of the gym and down the hall to the conference room, which, blessedly, was empty.
Hailey entered the room and Emily closed the door.
“Look, it’s nothing, just a poem. I wrote it in like two minutes.”
“You said you weren’t going to write about basketball.”
“That’s not about basketball.”
“Then what’s it about?”
“The ocean.”
Emily looked down at the poem. “Hailey, I don’t think this is about the ocean.” She looked back at Hailey, who stood motionless and expressionless.
“Well, it is.”
Emily sat down and pulled another chair out. “Sit, please.”
“I can’t be late for practice.”
“I know that. And I won’t make you late for practice. But please, talk to me, Hailey. Tell me what this poem’s about.”
Hailey plopped down in the chair. “It’s not about anything, Miss Morse. I swear! It’s just a poem.”
Emily looked at the poem, and read the last line aloud, “‘Why doesn’t the darkness want me?’ What does the darkness represent, Hailey?”
“Nothing. It’s just the darkness under the water. You know, the part that doesn’t get any sunlight.”
Emily looked into Hailey’s eyes, wishing she could see what was going on behind them. “Hailey, do you think about hurting yourself?”
Hailey laughed. “Oh! Is that what this is about? Miss Morse, I swear, I would never hurt myself. No way.”
“OK, well, do you see how this poem might give me that idea?”
Hailey shrugged.
“Is the darkness death?”
“Miss Morse! I swear! It’s not! It’s just a poem! Can we just forget about it?”
Emily sighed. “Hailey, I am obligated by law, not to mention human decency, to tell the guidance counselor if I think you are in danger of hurting yourself.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “Miss Morse, please. Don’t. You will ruin my life if you do that.”
“It wouldn’t ruin your life. You would just get to talk to someone else about what you’re going through—”
“I’m not going through anything! My life is perfect! I’m a basketball star! My parents don’t abuse me! I’ve got straight A’s! I promise, nothing is wrong!”
The conference door flew open. “What’s going on?” Milton asked.
Emily instinctively flipped the poem over.
“What’s that?”
“Nothing of your concern.”
“Hailey, get to the gym.”
Hailey slid through the door with speed and grace. Milton took two more steps into the room and then slammed the door. “What is your problem?”
Emily moved toward the door, but Milton blocked her path.
“Show me that piece of paper.”
“No!” She tried to sound firm, but her voice, not to mention her whole body, was shaking. She made another move for the door.
He blocked her again and grabbed her arm with his left hand, while trying to wrestle the crumpled poem out of her right fist, which was squeezing as if she meant to hold on to life itself.
“Let go! You’re hurting me!” She hated how screechy her voice sounded, how panicky, but there it was.
His grip on her arm tightened, and he actually managed to rip part of the paper from her hand. And then, as if it had a mind of its own, her right knee came up with sudden, incredible force and planted itself in his groin. He doubled over, and she ran out of the room, but she only made it across the hall, where she fled into the staff bathroom, locked the door, and then slid to the floor in a ball of tears. She smoothed out the poem and saw that yes, he had ripped the paper, but no, he hadn’t gotten any of the actual poem.
“Thank you, Jesus,” she breathed. And then she just sat there and cried for a while.
