In Confidence. Karen Young

divorce. It sometimes takes the juice out of a kid. Trust me, I see it all the time.”

      Beyond winning ball games, Monk ranked low on a list of people she trusted to be sensitive to a boy in emotional turmoil. If Nick was too demoralized over Ted’s abandonment to play baseball, then she didn’t give a damn what Monk thought about it. She knew his priority was the athletic program. All that mattered now was Nick’s survival.

      “As for my alleged divorce, I don’t know where you heard that, Monk, and I certainly don’t intend to discuss my private life here,” Rachel said. And with Monk, never, she wanted to say, but didn’t. It was a struggle to keep her voice steady. “Ted and I are having some difficulties. It would be ludicrous to deny that, under the circumstances, but divorce…no.” At least, not yet.

      “Well, sure,” Monk said easily. “But I just thought I’d mention it, in case it comes to that. Kids overreact to this stuff. And the hurt can extend to every little corner of a kid’s life.”

      “You mean, as in his position on the team?” Rachel guessed. “I’m touched by the depth of your concern.”

      “Well, hell, Rachel, you know what I mean,” he said, undeterred by her sarcasm. “It would hurt us all, Nick as well as the guys on the team. You know our stats are high so far this season and the Mustangs are gonna make the playoffs if all goes well and the creek don’t rise. We need everybody to stay focused. So, what I’m saying is I hope you’ll be on the lookout for trouble or for signs that he’s not handling this too good, divorce or not. A kid sees separation of his parents as traumatic as the real thing.”

      “As a guidance counselor, trust me, I’m aware of that,” Rachel said, now openly sarcastic.

      “You bet. So if that happens, you call me. I stand ready to listen if he wants to talk. Better than that, I’m willing to spend extra time with him. I just want you to know that.”

      “Thank you, Monk,” she said. “I appreciate your concern.”

      “Hey, I’m glad to do it.” Hearing no irony in her voice, he turned to go.

      “Just a minute…before you go…” Rachel set her cup down and followed him to the door. Tyson’s remarks about Nick were out of line, but she couldn’t let her personal bias about the man keep her from tending to the needs of at-risk students. And one of his athletes was definitely at risk. “I’m trying to persuade Jason Pate to come in and talk to me,” she told him. “I have a feeling he’s troubled about something and his drinking is a way of coping. But so far he’s resisting. It’s alcohol now, but drugs will be the next crutch if something isn’t done, and I don’t think his parents are going to be much support right now. Maybe you could suggest that talking to me is a good thing. From the little I got from him on our way home from Dallas, your approval would do it.”

      “Aw, I just think he’s one of those kids who like to binge. I don’t think he’s headed for alcoholism or anything. If that’s what you’re worrying about, you can let it go. He’s okay.”

      “Bingeing is an early-warning sign, Monk,” she said stiffly.

      “Well, we’ll see.” He flashed her a smile. “I’ll mention it. The kid’s got a future in pro ball if he doesn’t screw it up.”

      “I’d really like to talk to him.” She was pushing, but it was necessary. She’d misread Jack Ford with tragic consequences and she was determined not to make the same mistake with another boy ever again.

      “Hey, I’ll try.” He shifted to see around her and, spotting the trash, tossed his empty cup toward the can in a basketball-like free throw. It went in smartly. “Gotta go, gals.” He left, grinning.

      “I have never been able to figure that guy out,” Marta said as she and Rachel watched him stride confidently down the hall. “Have you ever noticed when you see him interact with those young athletes? They’re all around him, buzzing like little bees around the queen.” She grimaced at her own metaphor. “Planets, I guess I should say. They’re like little planets around the sun, Monk being the sun.”

      “Yes, I’ve noticed,” Rachel said, picking up her coffee. “He definitely has a way where they’re concerned. Charisma, I suppose.”

      “Or something,” Marta said dryly. “To tell the truth, I never got it. Too pushy and jocklike for my taste. But, whatever he has going for him, we know it works. Like he said, they’re headed for the play-offs and will probably finish first in the division again this year.”

      Rachel gathered up paperwork she’d meant to scan and fell into step with Marta. “We know he’ll do anything for his precious sports program, but does he care at all about those boys’ future beyond sports? I wonder sometimes. I’ve dealt with him for the past five years and I still don’t know the answer to that.” She made a mental note not to depend on Monk to persuade Jason. She’d do it herself, somehow.

      But even as she dismissed Tyson’s disinterest about Jason, his remarks about Nick made her uneasy. So far, Nick had not shared what he felt about Ted’s leaving with her, but she knew there was a lot going on inside him. He was moody and uncommunicative and Rachel guessed he needed time to get his head around such a drastic change. Ted had been neglectful lately, but at least he’d been in the house. Not being a presence anymore, albeit a shadowy one, was the new reality for Kendall and Nick. Coach Monk’s offer might be a welcome distraction, she thought, frowning with concern over Nick again. The man seemed to have the right touch when it came to his players. And at least he’d recognized the fact that Nick’s life was turned upside down, which was more than she could say about Ted.

      Nick walked into the locker room, stripping off his practice jersey as he went. He’d been off his game today and there was nothing he hated worse. “I really sucked out there today,” he complained to Ward in disgust. “I should never have let that grounder get past me.”

      “It happens.” Ward Rivers, who’d been in the same class as Nick since kindergarten, pulled his locker door open and tossed his cleats inside, then stripped off his jersey. “Coach didn’t say anything, so don’t sweat it.”

      Nick sat down on a bench to remove his cleats. Coach had a reputation for being a hard-ass, but so far Nick hadn’t seen that side of him. He’d always been pretty nice. He rose to put the cleats into his locker as three athletes rounded the corner. Jason Pate, in the act of removing his jersey as he walked, hardly noticed him or anyone else. But Ferdy Jordan, second-string outfielder, stopped and so did his butt-ugly sidekick, B. J. Folsom, who was practically Ferdy’s shadow. Everybody knew B.J. didn’t take a dump unless Ferdy told him how.

      Ferdy grinned slyly, while idly passing a baseball from one hand to the other. “Hey, Forrester! Heard about your old man.”

      B.J. snickered. “Whoa, way to go, Forrester. Gettin’ it on with the partner’s wife.”

      “Knock it off, you jerks,” Ward said with disgust. He slammed the door of his locker shut. “I think I hear your mothers calling.”

      “Wait, wait,” Ferdy said, pointing to Nick. “His mom’s supposed to have all the answers, right? She tells everybody what to do and how to do it, and now we find out she don’t know how to run her own life. So, Nicky, what’s her take on old Teddy-boy screwin’ around?”

      Nick dropped the cleats and leaped over the bench, bent on ripping Ferdy’s face off, but before Ward could step in, Jason Pate suddenly appeared from the next bank of lockers and quickly got a choke hold on Ferdy’s neck. “Get a life, you dumb shit,” he told Ferdy, then gave a nod to Ward to force Nick, still bristling, back over the bench. When he saw that Nick was restrained, he let Ferdy go. “What the hell you guys doing?” The question was meant for Ferdy and B.J.

      Ferdy, not dumb enough to challenge somebody of Jason’s stature, moved backward with his hands up, palms out. “Hey, man, we were just horsin’ around.”

      “Yeah, right.” Jason shoved Ferdy’s ball glove back into his hands with a little more force than