Chapter 13

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I get to school early the next morning and walk through the halls on a mission. There's next to nobody here, and it makes the school seem a little eerie to be quite honest. Stopping in front of a closed door on the far end of the building, I take a deep breath before knocking on the door. A gruff 'come in' sounds from the opposite side and I slowly turn the handle and poke my head in to see Coach Bennett seated behind his desk.

"Coach Bennett, can I have a word?" He glances up from some papers he's looking at and his eyebrows draw together in confusion when he sees me, but he waves me in nonetheless. I walk in and close the door behind me before taking a seat in the chair across from him.

"What can I do for you? Tryouts for most teams are already over."

"Oh, no, I'm not looking to join a team at all. I wanted to talk to you about Flynn Thompson."

"Mr. Thompson is no longer on the team."

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Look, kid. I'm sure he appreciates having friends like you, but what's done is done. I'm sure you heard about what went down, and he needed to be punished. That kind of violence is not acceptable off the field, and I won't have a loose cannon playing on my team."

"Is he a good quarterback, sir?"

"The best this school has seen in a while, but..."

"Without him, does the team have any chances of winning?" His eyes narrow as he leans back in his chair.

"Who are you?"

"Dalton Irwin, sir. The student that ended up in the hospital after he demonstrated his excellent tackling skills. I don't know why you wouldn't want someone like that on the field, his technique was on point."

"Demonstrating... what?"

"You see, sir, Flynn was simply showing me how to execute a perfect tackle on the field since I was curious about it. I never quite understood the logistics of how it all worked, so he offered to give me a demonstration. It's quite unfortunate that I tensed and tried to turn away when he came at me and his shoulder hit me in just the right spot – if I hadn't done that, we wouldn't be having this conversation right now."

"You're trying to tell me... that you ending up in the hospital was a product of you being curious about sports?" I chuckle nervously and rub the back of my neck as I shrug my shoulders.

"Guilty. As I'm sure you can see, I'm not much of a sports person. All that sweat and violence?" I shudder for dramatic effect. "No thank you. But I've been thinking of writing a sports based novel, and it's hard to do without research, so I figured... why not ask the star quarterback for some pointers? That's why I was at the game a couple weeks ago, I was doing research and getting inspiration. Honestly, sir, it was all just a big misunderstanding. He was trying to help, not harm. He's very remorseful of his actions." He stares at me with his lips pursed for several long seconds, tapping a pen on his desktop.

"So that's why you didn't press charges?"

"Correct." He sighs and runs a hand through his thinning brown hair before crossing his arms over his chest.

"Alright. I don't believe a word that just came out of your mouth, but here's what I'll do... I'll give him the option to stay on the team, but he'll be on heavily monitored probation. One wrong move, and he's out. So no more 'demonstrations', are we clear?"

"Absolutely, sir! After that whole ordeal, I have a perfect plot in mind for my novel. Getting put in the hospital from a ruptured spleen caused by a tackle on the football field seems like a perfect conflict to culminate into the climax, doesn't it?" His eyes widen as he stares at me in shock with his mouth hanging open. My eyebrows furrow in confusion before I snort and shake my head. "Not... that kind of climax, sir," I whisper. "The climax in a novel is the turning point where everything starts falling into place." He clears his throat, his whole face turning a light pink.

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