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Chapter 6
“Dwayne!” Ali called out from her desk, seeing him trying to make a break for it and escape from the computer lab unnoticed. “Dwayne Davis Jr., get in here!”
The six-five defensive lineman strolled into her office. “Hi, Ms. Whitaker.”
“Don’t hi Ms. Whitaker me,” she said. “You missed English this morning.”
“Alarm didn’t go off.”
Ali sighed. “It’s your second miss already, and we aren’t even to midterm yet. Sit down.”
“Something different in here? Did you redecorate?” Dwayne asked as he sat on the couch, his thick legs parted like the heavy roots of a hundred-year-old tree.
“No,” Ali said as she glanced at her new monitor, a larger one, one she had been requesting for months. Apparently, I needed a Graham Jones-sized tornado for that ask to be approved. “What’s going on with you?”
Dwayne was a second-year student, which meant Ali had a good read on him. He was ordinarily a cheery, polite kid and a decent student—when he showed up to class.
“I told you, my alarm didn’t go off.” He reached over to the candy drawer, grabbing a handful of Starburst.
Ali pushed her chair to the side of her desk to face him. “Isn’t James your roommate? He made it to English, it seems. Why didn’t he wake you up?”
Dwayne reached down, rubbing away a scuff on the toe of one sneaker. “You’ll have to ask him.”
I’m asking you because I know something is up.
Though Ali would never admit it, her relationship with Cornell did make her job just a tiny bit easier. She understood that when someone like Dwayne—a top-ranked Juco player—was acting out of sorts on the field, there was likely a bigger issue going on. And Cornell, who didn’t have much to do with the team’s defensive line, had mentioned last night that Dwayne seemed distant and removed all week.
Dwayne sighed, cramming another candy into his mouth. “I’m on the outs with them.”
“Who?”
“The team,” he said with a heavy shrug. “Everyone’s upset with me.”
Ali shook her head. “Did something happen?”
Dwayne’s eyes flew to hers. “Ms. Whitaker, you were at the game.”
“I was,” Ali said. “You played great, and when things got bad, you were trying to break it up before it got worse.”
“Exactly.”
Ali’s mouth pursed, confused. “I’m not following, Dwayne.”
“They said I shouldn’t have pulled Graham back.”
“Why is everyone upset for you trying to stop it from getting worse? Graham could’ve killed someone.” Ali could see that Dwayne was struggling, wanting to say something. “Dwayne, you can tell me.”
“Everyone’s hyped up. No one wants to see someone dead. Just, I don’t know. Maybe it would’ve been better if he did something just a little worse.”
“Dwayne—”
“Ms. Whitaker, if he did something worse, maybe they would’ve locked him up.” He raised his head and met her gaze. “Maybe then nothing would’ve happened to you.”
Ali jolted back. Every now and then, with a particular student, it would hit her—her job was a two-way street. There couldn’t be trust without trust, respect without respect, caring without caring. She peeked at the mural of photos behind her desk. If one of those sides was blocked, the flow toward the goal—her students moving on—became very difficult to reach. But that didn’t mean Ali wanted to be the focus of her students.
“I don’t know what you heard, but nothing happened. I got a new monitor out of it if anything.” She tried to smile, but it felt forced, so Ali relaxed her mouth. “Dwayne, what Graham did in this office had nothing to do with you and everything to do with him.” And me. I vouched for him. “You did the right thing. I wouldn’t want anyone hurt like that on my behalf, and I know you wouldn’t either. There were consequences, and he’s gone now. It’s over.”
“Consequences? That guy doesn’t even know what that word means.”
