COACH RAY ALWAYS knew who was leaving at the end of the year. Teachers stopped by when they needed his players to help them move things to their cars. Anyone who needed more than a couple of extra hands wasn’t coming back.
He’d heard the history teacher from the teaching corps had gotten into law school, so she’d be gone. No shocker there. The departure of Hernan Hernandez from the science department was a bigger surprise. According to Mrs. Reynolds-Washington, he’d gotten fired, and according to Mrs. Friedman-Katz, Daren Grant had something to do with it. Coach Ray had changed his mind about a lot of things over the past few weeks, but wanting to slam Daren Grant into a wall wasn’t one of them.
The big news of the week, however, came when Maybelline Galang appeared at the door.
“Need players to help you with something?” asked Coach Ray.
He knew she would say no. Maybelline never asked for help with anything. It was only in the past few weeks that he had really noticed how tired she looked as she marched down the hallway with her binders and folders.
Today, however, she carried nothing but a small yellow envelope. “I just wanted to let you know I won’t be at the school next year. I got a job with the OBEI department.”
“No way.” Then again, he could see it. “They pay better?”
Maybelline nodded. She shot a look down the empty hallway before continuing, “I needed it. I’m moving somewhere where I can put Allyson in the neighborhood school.”
“Well, let me know if there’s anything I can…” He made a gesture that suggested generalized assistance. “You need some players to carry the heavy stuff?”
“I’m fine.” Her businesslike tone had returned. “I just came to give you this.”
She handed him the envelope. Inside was an invitation.
“Allyson and her cousin are graduating fifth grade. We’re having a small party, and since this isn’t during football season…” The rest hung in the air between them. She was accustomed, by now, to his excuses for not showing up.
“I’ll be there.”
“That would be great,” said Maybelline, though her tone was flat, as if to suggest maybe great was too strong a word. Maybe she meant something more like okay or adequate. Then she turned and walked back into her classroom, the door shutting slowly behind her.
Coach Ray folded the invitation in half and stuffed it into his back pocket. He took out his wallet to see if he had any cash on hand. How much did people give for a fifth-grade graduation, anyway?
But then he put the wallet away without opening it and took out his phone instead.
“Hey, it’s me,” he said to the surprised voice on the other end of the line. “I gotta ask you a favor.”