English class had hardly begun on Monday when the phone rang in the back of the room. Mrs. Joyner, who had started talking about Emily Dickinson, scowled at the interruption, and she scowled again as she looked at me. "Shane, you're to go to the coach's office." I gathered my books together and headed for the door. "But you are not excused from your homework or from your reading."
The gym is clear across campus from my English class, so it took a while to get there. When I reached it, I could hear voices inside. I waited a moment, then knocked.
Grandison wasn't usually at school in the mornings, but I wasn't surprised when he opened the door. His face was solemn as he motioned me inside. "Shane, this is Mr. Brock, head of the WIAA. He wants to ask you a few questions."
Brock was a big man with short blond hair combed forward like a kid's. He had a gold ring on his little finger—some sort of championship ring—maybe a Super Bowl or World Series ring. His deep voice filled the room. "Nice to meet you, Shane. I knew your father a little. We played against each other when he was at Washington State and I was a Husky. I was sorry to hear what happened."
I never knew what to say when people talked about my dad, so I was relieved when Brock sat down at Grandison's desk and opened a laptop computer. I sat in front of him while Grandison stood off to the side. Brock typed for a moment, then looked at me. "You know why I'm here, don't you, Shane?"
"Because I hit that guy from Shorelake."
"That's right. And that guy has a name. Reese Robertson."
Brock leaned back in his chair. Ten seconds ticked by, then another ten. "Do you know what the WIAA is?"
"Not really."
"It stands for Washington Interscholastic Athletic Association. We supervise high school sports, make sure everything is on the up and up. I'd like you to tell me what happened with that pitch."
I swallowed. "It was an accident. I was trying to come inside with a fastball, move him off the plate, but the pitch got away. It sailed up and in, and he was leaning out over the plate. He barely moved."
Brock folded his hands in front of him. "So there was nothing different about that pitch?"
"Only that it got away from me."
Brock typed something, then looked up. "You were losing badly. That must have been tough."
"It's always tough to lose."
"But you know Reese Robertson, don't you? And that made it tougher."
"Not really. I barely know him. His parents bought my old house, but I've only talked to him once or twice in my whole life."
"You don't hold a grudge against him?"
"Why should I hold a grudge?"
"I can think of a few reasons. He's living in your old house; he's going to your old school; he's playing—and starring—on your old team."
"Look," I said, "I didn't hit Reese Robertson because his parents bought my house or because he goes to Shorelake. That'd be stupid."
Brock leaned forward. "I've talked to the Shorelake coaches, the Shorelake parents, the Shorelake players. They think you set Reese up with outside pitches, got him leaning out over the plate, and then went headhunting. They think you hit him on purpose."
"Well, they're wrong," I said, my body getting hot all over. I paused. I could tell he didn't believe me. "Look. I went to the hospital to see him. Would I do that if I hit him on purpose?"
"You visited Reese?"
"Yeah. I took the bus on Saturday. He's in room B3213," I said. "I didn't talk to him because his mom and dad were with him and nurses were all around him. But I went. And I called the hospital the night it happened to make sure he was okay. If I was such a bad guy, if I hated him so much and wanted to hurt him, I wouldn't do that, would I?"
For a moment Brock stared at me. "I don't know, Shane. Would you?"
"I'm telling you," I said, my voice rising, "it was an accident."
For a long time no one said anything. Finally Brock spoke. "All right, if you say it was an accident, then I guess it was an accident. You can go back to class now."
I stood up, went to the door, then turned back. "What's going to happen? Am I going to be suspended?"
Brock shook his head. "No. You won't be suspended."