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He let me stay in one of his spare bedrooms, and the following morning while I was nursing a killer hangover, I made him promise that he wouldn’t tell anyone about my situation at home if I promised to stay away from the bottle.

It was a bluff on my end.

When I walk into the main office, the principal’s secretary approaches. “You can go on in to Mrs. Wilcox’s office,” she tells me.

When I enter, she stands from behind her desk and motions to the chairs.

As I take a seat, I silently pray that, whatever this is about, it won’t affect my standing with the lacrosse team next year.

“Well,” she begins after she situates herself at her desk, “I’ve been trying to get ahold of your mother this morning so she could join us for this meeting, but I haven’t been able to reach her.”

“She’s probably still sleeping,” I respond, which is most likely the truth, but I cover for her shortcomings when I explain, “She’s been sick the past couple of days.”

“Oh, well, I’m sorry to hear that, nonetheless, I still need to speak with her.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

She gives me an eyeing look as if she wants me to tellherwhat is going on, but I play dumb and stay quiet. I’m not stupid enough to rat myself out if this so happens to be about anything other than this past weekend.

“The reason I called you in was to talk to you about an incident that happened this past weekend.”

Shit.

Mrs. Wilcox goes on to explain, “I was informed that you were caught with alcohol at the hotel after the state championship.” She folds her hands on top of her desk. “Is that true?”

The intensity in which she says this is laughable, as if I committed an armed robbery or something. I consider lying for a split second, but I’m not going to throw Coach under the bus and go against him. My standing with the team, even though the season is over, means too much to me, so I’ll own up to it in hopes she’ll respect my honesty and go easy on me. “It’s true,” I admit with a slight nod.

“Where did you manage to get alcohol?” she asks.

I shrug my shoulders, and this time, I go with a lie. “A friend.”

Her lips purse for a moment, unsatisfied with my vague answer. “Who else was drinking?”

Brent was, but I keep that to myself. “Just me.”

She leans back in her seat and there is a silent understanding between us, that we both know I’ve royally messed up here. The longer the silence spans, the more nervous I become. I wait for her to cut the tension and speak, but she keeps me waiting, and I eventually cave, pleading, “Am I in trouble here or can we please just let this be a lesson learned? I mean, if this goes on my record, no scout is going to recruit me.”

“Well, I spoke with Coach Lipscomb. He sees a lot of potential in you, and since this is the first issue we’ve had, he and I have decided to make an exception.”

“What kind of exception?” I ask.

“You’ll be suspended for five days, but I won’t put this on your record.”

“Five days?”

“Five days,” she reaffirms. “But it’s important that I get in touch with your mother.”

“I’ll let her know that she needs to call you.”

“I would appreciate that.”

Relieved that she is cutting me a little slack by keeping this off of my record, I give her a sincere, “Thanks,” but I’m not thankful to be suspended.

I’m sure most kids would love to get out of school for a week, but home is pretty much the last place I want to be. Coming here every day is a vacation in my eyes. Hell, it’s one of the few places I feel safe these days.

“Let this be a warning,” Mrs. Wilcox adds. “Next time, there won’t be any leniency, understood?”

“Understood.”