At 5 a.m., the phone rang. It was Coach Lawson, with news that an incident had occurred in one of the hotel rooms. He wouldn’t give Dad many specifics—didn’t have many concrete details himself—but said Dad needed to return to Orlando to retrieve Brian. Apparently Dad was one of multiple parents to receive a phone call that night.
By the time Dad and Brian returned, we had at least some idea of what had happened. Some of the upperclassmen on the team, Brian included, had snuck alcohol into the hotel room. They encouraged the younger members of the team to drink in excess. Logan Hunt drank so much he passed out. He ended up in the hospital with alcohol poisoning. That was why everyone got caught, and that was why Dad and the other parents received phone calls.
“What the hell were you thinking?” Dad shouted. He displayed the kind of anger that attracts anyone within hearing distance to come closer.
“We were just having fun,” Brian said. He sat on the living room recliner with his arms crossed over his chest.
I sat on the staircase, so he couldn’t see me. I had a full view of Dad’s angered pacing and Mom’s hysterical crying.
“They want to suspend you for the rest of the season,” Mom said, choking on her words. “You should have known better than to do something like this on a school trip.”
“He should have known better, period,” Dad said, jerking his head in Mom’s direction. He clenched his jaw and cleared his throat before looking back at Brian. “You’re lucky the police aren’t involved. That boy could have been seriously hurt.”
“It’s not my fault he can’t handle alcohol,” Brian said in a melodic tone.
“That’s not the point,” Mom said, looking at Dad for help.
“According to your coach, you hadn’t even been drinking,” Dad said. “You and another boy simply supplied the alcohol.”
“That’s why I don’t understand why you’re even mad at me,” Brian said, throwing a pillow on the ground. “I didn’t even do anything wrong.”
“You are supposed to be a team leader. You snuck alcohol into that room and let a boy drink until he was hospitalized,” Dad said.
“So dramatic.” Brian leaned back in the recliner and started rocking.
“Where did you even get the alcohol?” Mom asked.
“It’s not like we’re talking about weapons of mass destruction,” Brian said. “It was a bunch of teenagers getting loaded in a hotel room. Everyone is overreacting. Whatever happened to team bonding?”
“If it was about bonding, then why weren’t you drinking?” Dad didn’t pace anymore. He stood still, staring at Brian and waiting for an answer. He’d picked up on something. Brian wasn’t getting wasted like a typical teenager. He was orchestrating the chaos and watching madness unfold. Something far more disturbing.
“Dunno,” Brian said, shrugging his shoulders.
Dad kept staring at him, while Mom moved closer. “Don’t you see what you’ve done to the school? You should have been celebrating your victory, and now you won’t be able to play the rest of the season. You’ve let your whole team down.”
“Our team won regionals, but we’re not good enough to advance. This was our big game and we all know it. We were celebrating—”
“Don’t do that,” Dad shouted, interrupting Brian. “Don’t patronize your mother.”
Brian sighed. “It’s not my fault they won’t let me play. They’re only punishing us because Hunt went to the hospital. They’re trying to make an example out of us.”
“As they should,” Dad said.
“I need some air.” Mom walked through the kitchen and out the backdoor. She was humiliated by the whole experience. She’d spent years bragging about Brian’s athletic accomplishments; she wasn’t looking forward to telling those same people her son was no longer allowed to play.
“Don’t you see that what you did is wrong?” Dad asked. His voice was sincere. “You should have been looking out for your teammates, not pressuring them to do things that could get them in trouble. Now you’re paying the price.”
“I’m not paying anything,” Brian said. He stood up. “My ACT scores are high enough I’ll get into college with or without sports. No one’s got the best of me.”
I understood Brian in a different way that night. I think Dad did, too. Or maybe this was the part of Brian he’d always feared. There was no guilt about what happened. Brian knew he didn’t have to hurt to inflict pain. Logan Hunt proved that. Brian punished that boy for being weak, as though Logan were no different from a squirrel or a dog.
Brian was right. His popularity wasn’t hurt. Logan Hunt—who received an unflattering nickname following the incident—paid the price, alongside his other teammates who’d been punished, the ones with a less than stellar academic record.
By Monday, everyone at school knew what Brian and the others had done. They talked about it with pride, like sneaking alcohol into a hotel room was as worthy of praise as winning the game.
I still had to attend Coach Lawson’s history class that day. We avoided each other most of the period. It was awkward, and we both felt it. He finally addressed me at the end of class.
“Hey, Baby B.” He stood in front of the door, stopping me from entering the hall. “I don’t want you to be angry with me, you know, over Brian. I was only doing what I had to do.”
Of course I wouldn’t be angry with him. What Brian and his friends had done was illegal, immoral and put the entire team at risk, not to mention Logan Hunt.
“I understand,” I said.
“Brian’s one of the best players we’ve had in years. I understand he and his friends were just having fun. I’m still hoping he’ll play with us again next
