Page 7

“It’s beautiful.”

Hailey sighed. The dress for the lead role hung in front of her. The golden-yellow fabric, sewn into tiered waterfalls, sparkled in the light of the empty auditorium.

I would never be able to pull it off.

She stomped away. The force of her feet against the polished wood reverberated across the stage.

Why do I even care? I am not playing the lead!

Her father’s emotional breakdown still weighed heavy on her, and she had felt like she was in a daze during the last few days at school. They hadn’t spoken about it since. Her father was back to his normal routine, and her sister had gone back to being silent. But it happened. And Hailey now understood that her father was breaking right in front of her and she had no way to help.

I hate this.

Staying late in the theatre usually helped clear her mind. It had always allowed her to just be herself in an environment that felt safe. She used to love the feeling of the wooden boards beneath her feet and the haze of the lights that poured down on her like rain on a hot summer day. Tonight, however, it felt different.

It is so lonely.

She closed her eyes and gently let her shoulders drop. A sound from behind the stage startled her, and she whipped around toward it.

“Hello?” She took a few hesitant steps back, the stage lights forcing her to squint.

Why can I never get a few seconds alone?

“Hello?” she said again, more sternly. Finally, she heard a shuffle behind the curtain.

“Hey.”

The unwanted guest emerged.

Him!

Her face immediately stiffened as Gunner came to a stop, hands in his pockets.

“Sorry...” His voice trailed off. “You know, I had to get some of the stuff cleaned up for the stage crew and---”

What a load of crap!

She spun around before he could finish. A hot anger she had never felt before was boiling inside her stomach.

“They all left an hour ago. Stop following me, and stop watching me!” Her yell projected over the empty chairs below.

“Right.” He moved his hand behind his head. While his face seemed shocked by her response, his eyes held a look of deep discouragement that was unexpected. “I just. I just never heard that song you were singing earlier. I guess I was intrigued, especially because it was you singing it.”

Not today!

She stomped toward her books, turning her back to him with a huff.

The game they had played last week had been fun, but now she had seen the real Gunner Weston. He was the one who had broken her father and abandoned his team.

“Well, you would have no idea what that song is.” She was nearly at a sprint as she pressed by him. “That song is from the musical, not the kids’ movie you tried to impress me with last time!” She stormed by him and started down the steps.

“What’s your problem with me?” His question stopped her cold. The feelings inside boiled up to the top of her throat.

Just keep going.

“I mean,” he continued, his feet getting closer, “I have been nothing but nice to you, and yet you treat me like I’m some monster.”

You are a monster.

She twisted toward him, using every ounce of energy she had not to hit him.

“This!” she yelled, pointing to his steady approach. “This is why I want nothing to do with you!”

He stopped, looking confused.

“You act like you can just do whatever you want. Clearly, I wanted time to myself! Clearly, I wanted to practice by myself!” His face fell. “But you are Gunner Weston!” She threw her hands up in the air. “And if Gunner Weston wants to talk to a girl, he can just come by whenever and she will talk to him.”

There !

He shook his head as if he disagreed but said nothing in response.

“You think you’re something special? You think because you play quarterback on the football team that people should just give you whatever you want?” She could not help drawing nearer to him. “Well, I have something to tell you, Gunner Weston!”

His eyes were defeated as they met hers.

“I have met a million of you. Watched my dad coach spoiled brats like you and watched them come and go.” His shoulders sagged. “You take what you want, and you do not care who you hurt along the way. So please, Gunner Weston, just leave me alone, and don’t ever speak to me again!”

She was up on her toes, practically nose to nose with him as her face began to burn.

Is he going to cry?

She recoiled a bit at his defeated demeanor. But then he straightened and clicked his tongue.

“So, that’s what you think of me? Huh?” His voice was low, and he shied away. “I’m just some dumb jock that gets whatever he wants.”

Exactly!

Her back stiffened at his renewed pomposity.

“Well, at least I’m not afraid to take my chances.” He spun back toward her; the despondent, sad expression had been replaced by an arrogant frown. “At least I’m not afraid to be in the spotlight, to take the lead!”

No, he did not!

She clenched her hands together.

“You’re just like your father! ”

Excuse me!

“You preach and preach and preach, but you can’t even take your own advice!”

Her face was boiling as she jumped forward.

“You have no idea about my father and what he has been through!” She thrust her finger at him, her foot punctuating her words against the wooden stage. “You quit during the last game! You walked off the field, and you let him and your teammates down!”

He glared over at her, his eyes alight with a fiery glower.

“I guess your father would know a lot about quitting.”

That’s it!

She threw her books at him and ran down the steps.

“You are so full of yourself, Gunner Weston!” She was now in front of the stage, shouting up at him. “You want to know why we left California? You want to know why my dad quit his job?”

He had not flinched when she threw her books, and he hadn’t moved since.

“My dad coached at that stupid college for five years! He gave them everything, won silly football games, and went to all the ridiculous fundraising events!” Her body was pressed against the apron of the stage as the rage took over. “The weekend before their big bowl game, my sister went to a party with the quarterback of his team. A monster just like you, Gunner!”

He bent down and began picking up her books.

“And he---” She paused, trying to block the images out of her head. “He raped her!” she blurted. Gunner froze. “He raped her and then left her all alone, someplace she’d never been! ”

He jerked upright, shock visible on his face.

“And my dad…” She backpedaled to the exit, her eyes still searing him. “My dad went to the athletic director, the police, and the dean to try to get something done!” she yelled down the aisle. Her books looked small in his hands. “You know what they told him? They told him that my sister had been drinking, that it was probably consensual.”

She stopped, overcome by the memories of her sister explaining what happened, between sobs, while her father sat in disbelief.

“They said they would look into it after the football game. They wanted my dad to coach the quarterback that had just raped his daughter!”

Her voice broke, and she took a long, shuddering breath.

“So, he quit,” she continued quietly. Gunner finally stood up with her books in his arms. “He gave up his dream job and moved us across the country so my sister would never have to be near another arrogant, self-centered monster.”

She shook her head and threw her hands out by her side.

“So he took this job, thinking that this school and community would be good for us.”

And what a dumb decision it was.

She peered around the auditorium and waved her arms one more time.

“But like I said, Gunner,” she opened the door and paused briefly, “you are just like all the other football players he has ever coached.”

She pushed through the double doors behind her and took off toward the main entrance. The tears she had been fighting were finally starting to stream down her face.

**********

“Gunner!” Peyton’s voice jarred him back to reality. He realized he was still holding the plate of food.

“Yeah?” he asked softly, turning to her.

“Are you going to the fundraiser for Dad’s scoreboard on Saturday?” Peyton pointed to the flyer on the refrigerator.

“I can’t,” he said shortly, moving toward the stairs.

“You can’t?” She moved in front of him. “Tony wants this to be perfect, and the whole football team will be there.”

Perfect.

He shook his head, trying to move around her.

I can’t do this.

The tightness in his chest was making it tough to breathe. He could not take another lecture, especially after what he had heard earlier in the auditorium.

Raped.

He kept saying it over and over.

I’m nothing like that guy.

He felt his sister grab his arm.

“No Gunner, you have to---”

He jerked away. The force sent his sister tumbling back against the granite countertop.

“I told you I can’t go!” he yelled. Peyton’s face was a mask of shock.

What did I just do!?

“Gunner!” his mother yelled as she stood up, knocking her chair on its side .

He shook his head, a searing headache setting in as he squinted to focus. His heart was pounding out of his chest, and the plate in his hand felt like it weighed a thousand pounds.

Who am I?

“Gunner, you need to apologize to your sister!” His mom was inching closer to him. His vision was narrowing.

He tried to speak, but his throat was dry. The tightness in his chest had gone up to his head, and his sister’s frightened face was all he could see.

She’s afraid of me.

“Gunner?” His mother was moving quicker now, his lack of a response indicating that something serious was happening to her son. “Gunner, what’s wrong?”

His eyes darted to the saltshaker on the table, which was decorated with a picture of him in his football uniform.

I am a monster.

“Sweetie---”

He jumped across the kitchen and grabbed the shaker. His mind acted on its own as it told his hands to throw it against the wall.

“Gunner!” his mother screamed as he fell, the saltshaker shattering across the kitchen floor.

What is happening to me!?

He could not take it anymore. He finally let go. This was not the anger he had felt on the field or the grief that he had felt during his father’s funeral. This was something different, something that had been building deep inside him. The tightness in his chest, the swelling in his eyes, and the headaches all finally just took over.

“I can’t do this!” he screamed. A sob broke from his throat, and the tears he had been holding back were finally running down his cheeks.

“Oh, Gunner!” His mother was beside him in an instant. “Gunner, baby, it’s OK.”

He shook his head violently as she tried to hold him.

“No, it’s not Mom!” he yelled, burying his head back into his legs. “He’s gone, he just---he isn’t coming back!”

He could feel his mother squeeze tighter as he continued to sob. The tears refused to stop flowing, and his legs began to shake.

He’s never coming back!

He continued to cry noisily on the kitchen floor. His mother did not speak as she held him tight.

“I just…” He finally forced his head up. His sister had joined them, down on one knee, and her cheeks were also wet. “I’m just sick and tired of everyone telling me how they felt about Dad.” His mom pulled him close and let him lie in her arms. “I know Dad was perfect. I get it. I just---” His mother began gently rocking him back and forth. “I’m not him! In fact, I don’t know who I am right now!”

There, I said it out loud!

He buried his head back in her chest as she held him tight. His emotions poured out of him, and his sister started to sob behind him.

“Gunner,” his mom said in a calm, nurturing voice. “Gunner, look at me.”

He used every ounce of strength he had to pull his head up and lock his eyes with hers.

“Gunner, your father was not perfect.”

The words stunned him. He blinked, trying to focus on her face .

“What…?” He was sniffling uncontrollably.

“Baby, I loved your father so much. He meant the world to me. But…” She pulled Peyton toward them, trying to calm her as well. “But your father was not perfect.”

Yes, he was.

Gunner was starting to regain his composure, and he pushed himself up to a sitting position.

“Everyone around town thinks he was.”

His mother gave him a soft smile and patted his head.

“Well, your father would have given anyone in this town the shirt off his back if he could. That was what made him wonderful.” She glanced down at Peyton and stroked her hair. “But your father made mistakes. Mistakes with me, mistakes with you. That’s what made him human.”

Dad was human.

Gunner pushed back against the cabinet for more stability.

“Your father loved football. He put his life into it, but at times he hated that he was considered only a football coach. He wanted to be remembered not just as a football coach but as someone who helped build young men.”

He felt more in control of himself as he slid a bit closer.

“But most importantly, he wanted to be remembered as a good man…and a good father.”

He was a great father.

“He would spend hours at that school, trying to change things that he felt were broken. He would go meet with business owners and community leaders. I just…” His mother shook her head and lowered her eyes. “I just wish he could have told you both how he really felt. Ho w much he loved you, how proud he was of you both.”

Gunner grabbed his mother’s hand.

She is so strong.

“Sweetheart.” She shifted back to him and smiled. “Stop trying to be perfect. Stop trying to be your father.” He squeezed her hand as she leaned toward him. “Your father was so proud of the young man you are becoming. How you are growing up, maturing. He would want you to be you, Gunner Weston.”

But who is Gunner Weston?

He could feel more tears forming in his eyes.

“Because that is who you are. You are a wonderful young man. A caring brother, the best son a mother could ask for, and yes---” She squeezed his hand now. “The son of Daniel Weston.”

He swallowed hard. His legs had stopped shaking.

“This town, Gunner…” She peered up at the flyer on the refrigerator. “This town is lost. They are confused; they are still trying to heal.” Gunner sat still, his hands intertwined with his mother’s. “Just like you.” She smiled again.

She is so much stronger than me.

“This whole scoreboard thing---if you don’t want to go, don’t go,” she said. Gunner stood up shakily, his eyes falling on the broken saltshaker across the room. “Your father would have hated it anyway.”

Gunner chuckled, but it came out like a sob. His father always told the team to ignore the scoreboard, and now they wanted to put his name on one.

“Your father started that fundraiser to support all the after-school activities.” He grabbed the broom and began to sweep up the salt and pieces of glass as his mother continued. “He believed that it was important for students to be well-rounded. Not just to play a sport but to do other things. To be remembered for more than just football.”

Gunner took a deep breath as both Peyton and his mother moved to the table.

“That’s why he wanted me on stage crew?”

“Your father loved theatre, believe it or not. Something else you probably never knew about him.”

What?

Gunner hesitated, the dustpan still in his hand.

“Why do you think he forced you to stay in chorus? He never missed a musical at that school, and having you work backstage just gave him another reason to go.”

I never knew that.

He took a seat beside his family.

“Gunner, no one wants you to be your father. You just remind them so much of him that it’s hard not to turn to you right now.” She put her hand back on his. “But Daniel Weston is not what this town needs. They already had the best of him, and it was beautiful.”

She kissed his palm and leaned across the table.

“What they need now is Gunner Weston. The Gunner Weston that your sister and I know. The young man who made his father so proud.”

Gunner replayed the conversation in his head.

They need Gunner Weston.

He could feel them both staring at him, waiting for him to say something .

What can Gunner Weston do?

He glanced at the flyer on the refrigerator and took a deep breath. The exhale that followed sent him to his feet and directly to the door.

“Gunner?” his mother called nervously.

“Mom.” He stopped in the doorframe. “I need to go do something. But I promise that when I get back, we’ll have a family dinner.”

He nodded over to Peyton and blew her a kiss. The smile she gave in response was genuine, and he felt his strength returning.

OK, Gunner.

He had no idea what he would do, exactly, but he knew he had to do something. His sneakers picked up speed as he headed out to his car, the keys jingling in his hand as his mother’s voice rang out in his head.

They need Gunner Weston.