The Book of Joe

him.
    “Then get your asses into class now,” Dugan commanded, and I couldn’t help but think this display of academic concern was somehow being performed on my behalf. “Idiots,” he said, ushering me into his office with an apologetic grin as I sought to suck back in some of the wind that had been knocked out of me.
    The walls of Dugan’s office were lined with framed pictures of teams past. The shelving behind his desk contained a slew of championship trophies. On his desk, almost as an afterthought, was an old picture of the coach and his wife with their arms around two unhappy-looking boys with crew cuts and their father’s dark eyes. Dugan stopped on his way around the desk and pointed to one of the framed team pictures. “There’s your old man,” he said. “Nineteen fifty-eight. Now, that was a hell of a season. My third year as coach, our first championship, thanks to your old man’s buzzer beater.” He sat down in his worn leather chair. “He ever talk about that game?”
    “He may have mentioned it.”
    Dugan studied me like a taxonomist trying to pin down a phylum and species. After a moment he nodded slowly, having determined the best course with which to proceed. “I guess you know why I asked you to come here,” he said gravely.
    I shrugged. “Not really.”
    “I’m concerned about Wayne Hargrove.”
    “Then you should have called him in here.”
    “He’s absent today,” Dugan said. “I can hardly blame him, given the circumstances.”
    “What do you want?” I said, sounding as annoyed as I dared.
    “I want to help. Wayne’s one of my boys. Whatever silly, adolescent experimentation he may or may not have done is really not of any concern to me.”
    “What can you possibly do?” I said, suddenly hoping in spite of myself that maybe there was a light at the end of this tunnel.
    “I can put an end to the rumors,” he said, staring intently at me. “I’ve already met with the team and made it clear to them that Wayne is their teammate and they are not to tolerate anyone slandering or impugning his reputation.”
    I looked at him incredulously. “Your team is where this all started,” I said. “It was Mouse who spread the word to begin with.”
    “The sheriff was ... indiscreet,” Dugan conceded. “But Mouse will apologize for starting such a terrible rumor, and the sheriff will back that up if I need him to. You and I will be the only two people who know the real truth, and that truth will never leave this room.”
    I thought about it for a minute. If the coach made Mouse apologize for the rumor, then maybe Wayne really had a chance. The whole thing was so unbelievable anyway, it would actually make more sense to everyone that it had been a stupid prank. “Why are you telling me this?” I said. “If you can really make this go away, why don’t you just do it?”
    Dugan’s eyes bored into me. “I want Wayne in that game tonight,” he said.
    “The game.” I nodded slowly as the full realization of what this was about dawned upon me. “Of course. You can’t win without Wayne.”
    “This is about more than a game,” Dugan said.
    “Right. It’s about the play-offs.”
    “I’m only looking out for Wayne’s best interests,” Dugan snarled at me. “This is not going to be easy. Mouse will not be happy about it, and the sheriff will be furious that I am making his son a scapegoat. I believe I can get them to understand the wisdom of my plan, but no one will believe it if he continues to hide.”
    “Bullshit,” I spat back. “You don’t want to lose your leading scorer right before the play-offs.”
    Dugan stood up suddenly, and for a moment I thought he might actually lunge across the table at me. “Wayne is one of my boys,” he said slowly, towering over me menacingly. “I look after my boys. That’s what this is about.”
    “Really,” I said, getting to my feet. “Then tell me this. If Wayne doesn’t play tonight, will you still do it? Will you still help him out?”
    The heat from his stare threatened to singe my eyebrows, but I maintained eye contact. “If any one of my boys skips a game,” Dugan said softly, “he’s no longer one of my boys.”
    “That’s what I thought,” I said, and turned to leave.
    “Listen to me, you little shit,” Dugan roared at me. “If you think this school is going to reach out and embrace a faggot, then you’re an idiot. He’ll become an outcast. I am offering the only chance he’s got to be able