“Some things are more important than a winning season,” J.C. said grimly.
“Unfortunately, not being able to play is likely to kill Greg’s chances for a college scholarship,” Helen said. “I have little to no sympathy for the boy, but that’s going to be tough for his folks to accept. They were so proud that he’d be their first to get into college.”
“What’s next?” J.C. asked. “Is there anything I can do here?”
Helen shook her head. “Carter has things under control and the prosecutor will be here shortly to do all the official paperwork and determine the charges. I’ll also be conferring with him about bringing criminal charges against the person who posted the latest pictures online. I’ll be in court first thing Monday to file a civil case, as well.”
“Do you know who did it?” J.C. asked. “You’re a hundred percent sure?”
Helen nodded. “It was Greg. It was his way of standing up for Annabelle, if you can believe that. He thought it might take the heat off of her. I’m not entirely convinced that Annabelle herself didn’t put him up to it. That is one twisted relationship. If I were Mariah, I’d get those two as far apart as possible.”
“Do you think the Litchfields will transfer Annabelle to another school after this?”
Helen nodded. “I don’t think they’re going to have a choice. Betty and Hamilton Reynolds were talking about a formal expulsion hearing earlier. The school board will hold an emergency meeting on Monday.”
“That could be best for everyone,” J.C. said.
“Only if Mariah accepts it graciously,” Helen warned. “I’m not convinced she’s capable of that. If anything, she’s going to be more furious than ever with Laura and Betty.” She met his gaze. “That reminds me, Laura said to tell you she’d be at home. She’d like you to come by.”
J.C. nodded. “I want to see the Dawsons first, then I’ll head over there.”
Or not, he thought. He wasn’t sure he was quite ready to see the pity in Laura’s eyes when she looked at him. It had been there after he spoke. It was the same look he’d seen time and again after Stevie had died. It was usually accompanied by a bunch of platitudes that didn’t mean a thing, that his brother’s death was a terrible tragedy, but that none of it was his fault.
Nonsense. He’d known what was happening to his brother and he hadn’t stopped it. If that didn’t place the blame squarely on his shoulders, then what would?
* * *
Laura was beside herself. There’d been no sign of J.C. on Saturday afternoon. Nor had she heard from him that evening or today. When Helen had called to give her an update on the charges pending against the various students involved in the previous day’s debacle, she made herself ask about J.C.
“He didn’t come by?” Helen asked, clearly surprised. “I passed along your message and he said he was going by the Dawsons first and would head to your place after that.”
“I haven’t heard a word from him,” Laura admitted. “Maybe I should go over to his place to check on him.”
Silence greeted her words. “Maybe not,” Helen said eventually. “Yesterday was obviously very emotional for him. He laid himself bare before the entire town, told something he’s apparently never revealed to anyone in town before, an obviously painful part of his past. I spoke to Bill briefly, and he said J.C. had never even mentioned it to him. He probably needs to regroup.”
“But what does it say about us that he doesn’t want my support while he does that?” Laura said wearily. “Maybe I’ve been kidding myself that we’re actually building a strong relationship here.”
“I don’t know J.C. all that well, but I know a little bit about men who feel guilty about a tragedy, even when that guilt isn’t justified,” Helen said. “They’re terrified that the people they love will think less of them.”
“That’s ridiculous!” Laura said.
“That’s male pride,” Helen countered. “Give him a little time, Laura. He’ll come around. At least, that’s my advice. You’re free to ignore it. Until Erik, my track record with men wasn’t exactly a shining example of what healthy relationships were meant to be.”
Laura chuckled at the honest statement. “I’ll take that into consideration.”
“J.C.’s a good guy,” Helen said. “That much I do know. I wasn’t always sure of it, but now I am.”
“I know,” Laura said softly. She’d already recognized that he was one of the best. And he’d come along when she’d almost given up hope of finding real love, the kind that would weather any storm.
* * *
On Monday morning, Laura didn’t have a second to spare for thoughts about J.C. The halls were erupting with angry chatter as the news leaked out that a number of the football players had been suspended from playing for the remainder of the season, including Greg Bennett. To her regret, the blame for that was being placed not where it belonged—on the young men themselves—but on Misty.
She debated with herself, then decided to address the situation in her first class. Maybe she could diffuse the situation at least a little.
“I’ve heard a lot of talk this morning about what happened on Saturday and about the fallout,” she began, only to draw hostile stares from many of her students. “Let’s talk about it.” She looked into each grim face. “And let’s do it politely.”
“It’s all because Misty Dawson is not only a little slut, but a crybaby,” one of the girls said snidely.
Laura held her gaze. “Which part of politely didn’t you understand? Students in my classes don’t call each other sluts or crybabies or anything else that’s intended to deliberately hurt them. That’s bullying. Have you learned nothing from what’s been going on recently? Words can wound people. Actions can wound people. And yet I look at you and some of you clearly still think it’s one big joke. Annabelle Litchfield is being transferred to another school because of this. Greg Bennett is likely to lose his college scholarship because he can’t play ball the rest of the season. What about any of that
