Outrage

23

The “spirit” luncheon for the baseball team was supposed to be a team-building event prior to the start of the playoffs that weekend. However, the players were buzzing with the rumor that the school’s athletic director had taken Coach Newell to task for the injury to Esteban Gonzalez’s leg. Apparently, Esteban’s parents had complained about the treatment of their son and the AD was worried about a lawsuit.

“Coach called my dad last night,” Max Weller told his cronies as they sat at their table while one of the assistant coaches spoke at the lectern about being “team players” and giving “110 percent” every game. “Newell said he’s going to have to play that fucking beaner at least some innings.” Weller made no attempt to lower his voice, nor did his pals disguise their curses and racial slurs.

Sitting at the table next to the complainers with two of the team’s black players and other members of the varsity squad, Giancarlo and Zak could overhear the angry conversation and see the hard stares directed at Esteban, who was sitting at a table otherwise occupied by the team’s two student managers, an assistant coach, and two younger players brought up from the junior varsity team to get some playoff experience. He ate quietly with his head down and spoke to no one, nor was he spoken to.

As his assistant coach droned on, Coach Newell walked over to Weller’s table, where he stood behind his senior shortstop. “How’s my main man?” he asked.

“Okay,” Weller replied sullenly.

“It’s going to work out fine, son,” the coach replied, leaning over and lowering his voice. “A lot can happen between now and the game.” He stood up and tousled Weller’s hair. “Chin up, champ.”

The coach turned and saw the boys at the next table watching him. He frowned at Giancarlo but smiled at the other players and patted Zak on the shoulder as he walked past. “Get that arm ready for game two, Karp.”

“I will, Coach,” Zak responded with a smile.

“This is bullshit,” Giancarlo said when the coach moved on.

“It’s just talk,” Zak replied. “Max is pissed that he’s going to have to sit out some of the games, but I bet he’s still going to start and this will blow over. Like I told you, Esteban’s parents handled it. We don’t have to get involved.”

Giancarlo scowled at his brother. “Did you hear anything Moishe said about waiting for someone else to speak up when other people are being bullied and attacked?”

Zak scoffed. “Max and Chase and Chris aren’t Nazis,” he said. “They’re just assholes who will be gone next year. It doesn’t matter what they say.”

“It doesn’t?” Giancarlo asked. He pushed away from the table, stood, and picked up his plate.

“Where are you going?” Zak asked.

“I’m going to sit with Esteban,” Giancarlo said. He hesitated a moment. “You coming?”

Zak bit his lip but then shook his head. “If you want to make a scene, go ahead,” he said. “I think you’re just looking for trouble.”

Giancarlo didn’t answer and turned to walk over to Esteban’s table. Esteban looked up, surprised, and smiled tentatively, but soon the two boys were laughing and talking animatedly. Zak, however, was conscious that when Giancarlo left, the boys at the table next to his had watched and reacted angrily.

“Hey, Zak, I guess your brother would rather sit with his boyfriend than his own kind,” Chase said, taunting him.

Zak didn’t respond but acted as if he found his own lunch fascinating and tried to carry on a conversation with the other players at his table. He cringed, however, when Esteban rose and headed in the direction of the hallway and the boys at the other table suddenly scooted their chairs back and got up. They headed in the same direction Esteban had gone.

When Zak glanced back at his brother, he saw that Giancarlo was looking at him. With a shake of the head, Giancarlo stood and followed the others out of the door. Zak looked over at where Newell was standing, hoping the coach was going to intervene, but while his eyes followed his senior players as they left, he remained where he was with a slight smile on his face.

Zak put his head down. Then he sighed and got up from the table.

“Where you going?” one of the black players asked.

“To save my brother from getting his ass kicked,” Zak replied, and left to find Giancarlo.

In the hallway, Giancarlo saw the senior players head into the restroom and guessed that they were following Esteban. He walked down to the restroom and, taking a deep breath, he pushed on the door, only to find that it was partly blocked. He pushed harder and was able to get past Chris, who was standing guard but more interested in what was going on.

Giancarlo saw Esteban struggling in the grip of the much larger Chase and bleeding from his nose. Max stood in front of his victim with his hand balled into a fist as he snarled, “Now are you going to quit?”

“Let him go,” Giancarlo yelled.

Max whirled around but then grinned when he saw who was speaking. “Well, if it isn’t the spic lover. You looking for your sweetheart, Karp?” he said as the other boys laughed.

Giancarlo tried to push through to Esteban but Chris grabbed him from behind as Max stepped in front. “You want some of what he’s getting?” Hatred radiated from his eyes.

At that moment, the bathroom door opened again and Zak walked in. “What the hell is going on?” he asked. He pushed Chris away from his brother and got between him and Max.

“Stay out of this, Zak,” the older boy said, warning him.

“Not while my brother’s here,” Zak retorted.

“Take his punk ass and get out of here then,” Max said, pushing Zak’s chest.

“Don’t ever touch me again,” Zak replied. “Come on, Giancarlo, let’s go.”

Instead of leaving, Giancarlo shook his head. “Not without Esteban.”

Zak stared hard at his brother. Then he smiled and shrugged before turning back to Max. “Okay, guys, you have a choice,” he said. “You can let Esteban go and apologize to him and my brother, or I’m going to kick your asses.”

“What? Are you nuts?” Max said, turning his head to smile at Chase, but doubt showed in his eyes when he turned back to Zak.

“Maybe,” Zak said. “Oh, and you can quit the team and tell Coach Newell why.”

“You’re crazy,” Chase growled, pushing Esteban to the ground and standing next to Max.

“Yeah, so how about it, Max? Would you like a shot at the heavyweight title?” Zak replied.