I should have guessed it was Tim without asking. Tim was an asshole who hated both Chip and me because we’d made him look average on the court in the barn, just another player instead of the star. That seemed pretty trivial to me, but it wasn’t to Tim. We’d bruised his ego. He probably thought it fitting and proper to get his own back and bring Chip down at the same time.
When he’d told me it was Tim, I’d asked, “Did he confront you or talk to you on the phone or in emails?”
“No, we met. He told me to come to Burgers ’N Stuff, that he had something to tell me. When I sat down, he was gloating, and he laid it out for me. I told him he was wrong, I wasn’t gay, you weren’t, either, and we were just friends. He said that didn’t matter. All he had to do was accuse us and let us deny it, but most people wouldn’t believe us and how many scholarships did I think I’d be getting after that?”
“That son of a bitch. He actually said that?”
“And laughed.”
I didn’t laugh. Neither did Chip. He was still thinking there was no real solution to the problem, and he went on to explain that even if I somehow made the point-shaving business go away, Tim could still out him anytime he wanted to, and Tim would probably do it because he’d be mad he couldn’t make money off the scheme he’d worked out. That was when Chip said we’d have to find a way so Tim would never say anything about it, and killing him had come up.
＋ ＋ ＋ ＋
We had dinner at my house. My parents loved Chip and were happy to have him there. Afterwards, we went for a walk. I’d been thinking, planning, improvising, and had come up with the beginnings of an idea, something that might bear fruit. I explained what I was thinking to Chip as we walked. It was rudimentary at this point. I knew I’d have to sleep on it to get a better handle on what would be needed to make it work. Chip argued about some of it but didn’t have any suggestions of how it could solve all the problems involved. He was still pretty glum when we parted.
We’d stood in the shadows at the side of the house, making sure no one was around, especially Tim with a camera, and kissed goodnight. It was a long emotional kiss, but that was all. Chip was exhausted from worry and too much emotional stress. He also kept telling me how much he needed me around. I told him before he left that I didn’t like us being apart any more than he did, and after this point-shaving mess was over, we’d talk about what we might do to solve that problem. That was a problem to solve just like the blackmailing problem was, and I hadn’t given up on either of them.
I slept on my thoughts. When I awoke, it was Monday. One day before the game. Not enough time. But it was what we had. I had to make things work, and it really had to be today, because tomorrow, all the game preparations would be underway.
Luckily, sleeping on my thoughts had helped. I knew what had to be done, and there was still plenty of time to do it.
＋ ＋ ＋ ＋
The plan was in place, the details all worked out. We were ready. It had taken some work, mostly on a script for Chip, but a couple of other things as well.
It was Monday afternoon. The school had a small gym, small by comparison to the large gyms high schools with large enrollments had. With the popularity of Chip’s team, the place had been selling out well before every game, and this game would be the same. To accommodate all the students and townspeople who wanted to see the team and be part of the excitement, they’d been having pep rallies the day before games in the school auditorium. It seated three times the number of people the gym did, and anyone who wanted to could come. There’d be another rally today in the afternoon in the auditorium, open to the public.
I wanted to be there, but it could be disastrous if I were seen. Chip said he knew a place where I could watch undetected. So that’s where I was: up in one of the spotlight bays near the ceiling and at the sides of the auditorium. I’d gone up there before they’d opened the doors to the school to the masses outside waiting to get in. A couple of students were in the booth in the back working the sound and lights, but with the spots more or less permanently set, no one needed to come into the bay where I was. I was alone there and could see and hear everything, and no one knew I was there or could see me.
One of the details we’d had to work out was making sure Tim would be there. We’d done that by having Chip call him and tell him to come to the pep rally where Chip would tell him what he’d decided about shaving points. Tim said he’d be there and would wait for him in the auditorium after the place had cleared out.
The auditorium filled quickly. On the stage the twelve members of the basketball team were gathered, sitting on chairs along with the coach. The vice principal was acting as emcee. The coach spoke first, and then each player was introduced and given the opportunity to say a few words to the audience. The crowd was pretty raucous, which everyone on stage was encouraging. Everyone was excited. The team had gone 18-0 for the season and was ranked number one in their section, number four in the state in their division. Tomorrow’s sectional game was against the number-four team and should be an easy win. Everyone seemed confident they’d take the sectionals, and the talk of their chances at the state title was all positive. The team was that good, the best ever at Otterbridge High.
Many of the players just waved to the crowd when introduced. A few, the more confident and less self-conscious ones, stepped to the lectern and said a few words, mostly thanking the crowd for all the support they’d been given; they were loudly applauded and cheered.
A mood of anticipation was building, because the last player to be introduced was the one everyone was waiting for. Chip was the star of the team and the darling of the school, even of the town. His last game had upped his scoring average to just over 41 points a game. He was also their best defensive guard, second on the team in rebounds and first in assists. This was only one of the reasons he was also the most popular boy in school. He was friendly to everyone and wasn’t a bit arrogant. A lot of high-school athletes are cocky and obnoxious. Chip was neither of those things. He was friendly to everyone. Besides, he was cuter that a basket of puppies.
He was finally introduced, and the crowd was roaring so loudly as he stepped forward that even the public-address system was drowned out.
The cheering went on and on until Chip held up his hands, asking for quiet. It took some time, but eventually the room quieted. I stood up. I’d been sitting but now was too nervous to hold still. There wasn’t much room in the bay, not enough for pacing, but enough for me to stand.
Chip waited, and when it became apparent he was going to speak only when the room was silent, the audience accommodated him. It took some time, but eventually the room was entirely still.
Chip picked up the mike. “Guys, I want to say something, and it’s personal and will take a little time. I’d really appreciate it if you’d remain silent and let me get through this. It’s going to be hard for me; I’m going to say things that will come as a surprise to you, but I need to say them, and I’d appreciate your understanding and hope that you let me finish.”
Chip looked nervous, not something anyone in the crowd had seen before, and they responded. There wasn’t a sound coming from the audience.
“Guys, I’m 17. Just turned 17. I’m a teenage boy just like a whole lot of you are. But what I’m going to say isn’t just for you boys. It’s the same with the girls. I’m sure you’ll all relate to the first part of what I’m going to tell you.”
He paused, what I guess you could call a dramatic pause, then said, “I’ve got a secret. I would guess that 99% of teenage boys have secrets. Girls, too. We all have things we want to keep private. We’d be embarrassed if our secrets were made public. Sometimes it would be even worse if the secret revealed something criminal we’d done or something immoral, or—well, you get the idea. Let’s just say that, even if it’s just embarrassment that you were threatened with, that would be enough, wouldn’t it? Enough to cause you to do almost anything not to let the secret get out. We’re teens. We hate to be embarrassed. We’d hate for our peers to know certain things about us, to think badly of us, to laugh at us.”
He stopped and looked around the auditorium, making eye contact, recognizing people, nodding to a few, staring at a few others. When he resumed his talk, he sounded a bit more like a younger guy, a less-confident one than he really was.
“I’m not going to tell you what my secret is. Just like I wouldn’t ask or expect you to tell me yours. It’s my secret, and I want it to remain that way. I think it’s likely that everyone here can empathize with that. Who here wants his secrets broadcast? Who wants everyone to know something about him he wants to keep private?”
He gave them a second or two to assimilate that, then said, “Now comes the part you’re not going to like. It’ll make you angry. It does me, too, but mostly it makes me sad. It’s this: one of you, one of you sitting out there, has approached me and told me he knows my secret, and he’s going to let everyone else know about it, too. Let all of you know something very private that I want to keep to myself. But, he says, he’ll give me a chance and won’t tell everyone. The chance is, if I shave points in all the games my team—your team—plays in the playoffs, he won’t tell.”
Chip stopped. A murmur started in the crowd and immediately got louder. It became an angry noise as people realized the ramifications of what he had said. On stage, his teammates rose to their feet, the coach jumped up and went to Chip, and the assistant vice principal did, too. They spoke, and Chip shook his head. He kept shaking it and then finally turned away from them both, looked out at the crowd, and speaking loudly through the mike, shouted, “I have more to say. May I continue?”
The crowd quieted, though there was tension in the air that hadn’t been there before, and the two men, not sure what to do, remained standing protectively just behind Chip. The team members all stayed on their feet, looking at each other, frowning, then out at the crowd, some menacingly. It was easy to feel how protective they felt about Chip.
Chip spoke and with a determination that hadn’t been in his voice earlier. “I’m NOT going to shave points. My teammates have worked too hard to get us to this point and it wouldn’t be fair to them or to you guys who’ve cheered us on and supported us so thoroughly. I can’t let any of you down. I will not do that. I will NOT shave points!”
He had to wait then for another uproar to subside. Then he continued.
“But, and this is why I’m talking to you, I don’t want my secret to be made public, either. So when I had this decision to make, I made it. I decided to talk to you, to tell you all about it. Well, most of it. See, I’m not going to tell you the name of the guy who knows my secret. And I’m suggesting to him—to you sitting out there anonymously with everyone else—that you don’t reveal my secret. Why? Because, if you do, everyone will know who you are. Even if you reveal the secret surreptitiously, anonymously, they’ll know because I’ll tell people who you are. And I fear greatly for your health and wellbeing if they know that. Kids in this room will let you know how much they hate what you did, did to me and our team and our school. There probably will be violence. Not only that, I’ll press charges. You’re blackmailing me. That’s a felony. The fact you’re doing it to make money off bets that you’ll have fixed makes it much more serious.
“Just so there’s no mistake, I have to say this. This person, this blackmailer, is the only one who knows my secret other than me and the one other person who’s involved. If it gets out, I’ll know he’s the one who told people because neither she nor I will have told anyone. He’ll want to stay hidden as all blackmailers do, but he won’t be able to. That’s because I’ll tell everyone who he is and why he believes what he’s spreading around to be true. But, like many secrets we all have, this one has shades of gray and isn’t what he thinks it is. He’s wrong but doesn’t know that. What he’ll be gossiping about is a falsehood.”
Chip took out his handkerchief and wiped his brow. “That’s just about all I have to say. I know there’ll be lots of speculation about what my secret is. It’s personal, it’s mine, and it doesn’t affect any of you. The only thing you need to know is: there’s nothing illegal about it. I hope you’ll let me have some peace of mind and not try to discover what it is.”
He paused before continuing, trying to let that thought grow roots. Then, “I do need to say this, though: some of you won’t be able to help yourselves, and you’ll ask me questions. Is it this? Is it that? What girl is involved? This one? That one? And so on. I’ll tell you right now, I’m not going to answer any questions. Some of you might think if I don’t answer, it means the answer must be yes, because I’d tell you if your guess was wrong. So listen. My refusal to answer doesn’t mean yes, and it doesn’t mean no. It only means I’m not answering any questions.
“Now, to my teammates, I want to say this.” He turned to them, then back halfway to the crowd so he could see both, and roared, “I love you guys! Let’s forget all about this now, and—LET’S KICK SOME ASS TOMORROW!”
The audience went wild, Chip waved, joined his teammates, and together they walked off the stage.
I stayed where I was, watching the crowd. They’d stood up and cheered until the team had gone, then started out themselves. It took awhile and there was a melee until over half the crowd, mostly kids, was gone. Some people had remained in their seats, waiting till they’d be able to get out without bumping and being bumped. I was watching a row near the back.
That was where Tim was sitting. Right behind him sat a friend of Chip’s. He was sitting forward in his seat and had one hand on each of Tim’s shoulders. He was holding Tim in his seat and speaking softly into his ear. Of course, I couldn’t hear anything he was saying, but I knew what it was. He was telling him that Chip had recruited him. That he, and he alone, knew that Tim was the one who was trying to blackmail Chip and that Tim had better pray that nothing about the secret was leaked in any form to anyone, or the consequences would be brutal. Broken bones, concussions, that sort of brutal. Tim wasn’t making a sound or a move. The guy behind him was a good friend of Chip’s. He was also the heavyweight wrestler on the school’s team.
I watched, and eventually those two were the only ones left in the auditorium. The wrestler took his hands off of Tim’s shoulders, Tim stood up as soon as the hands released him and started moving down the row of seats. The wrestler punched him then, a solid kidney punch. Tim yelped and fell back into his seat. I could see he was in pain from how quickly he lost color in his face, and sweat showed up on his forehead. ‘That’s a warning’, the wrestler said. I couldn’t read his lips but didn’t need to. I’d given him that line myself. I’d thought a little pre-pain, much less than he’d suffer if he told anyone that Chip was gay, would be a good reminder in advance, something to think about before he left the building.
I never did care for Tim all that much.