Hard To Forget

“Uh-huh. And been in and out of jail for most of the past five years, right?”

“So?”

“Is that what you want for your life?”

Joe shrugged.

Coach Torres didn’t say anything. Just looked at him. And kept looking at him.

Joe shifted in his chair, placed his foot on his opposite knee and began to pull at the sole where it was coming loose. He kept his attention on the shoe.

Finally Coach said, “I’m going to offer you an alternative to Al’s life, Joe, if you’re willing to consider it.”

Joe looked up in surprise. Coach was still studying him. It was as though he’d never taken his eyes off him.

“You’re intelligent, Joe. You learn the plays quickly. You’re a natural leader. You’ve got every guy on the team following your lead. You’ve got everything it takes to make it big in the world, except the drive to do it.”

“You calling me lazy?” Joe asked, his expression sullen.

Coach smiled. “Nope. You’re just not motivated. And I’d like to help you to change that.”

“How?”

“By getting you a scholarship to go to college next year.”

Joe’s foot fell off his knee and he straightened in surprise. “College? For me?”

“That’s right. At the rate you’re going, you’re going to be ready to play college ball in another year. If you can get your grades up, that is.”

Joe slid back down in the chair. “Yeah. Right.”

“You think that’s so impossible?”

He shrugged again.

“How much time do you spend on homework every day?”

He shrugged again.

Coach Torres looked down at a piece of paper in front of him. “Obviously not enough if your present grades are any indication.”

Joe didn’t see a need to respond to that comment, either. He went back to worrying the sole of his shoe, wondering where he was going to get the money to buy a new pair.

“You don’t believe you can do it, do you?” Coach asked.

Joe shook his head without looking up.

“Then I’ve got more faith in you than you do. As a matter of fact, I found someone who would be willing to tutor you if you want to put some effort into bringing those grades up.”

Joe looked up from beneath his brows. “Who?”

“Elena Maldonado.”

Joe frowned. He’d never heard of her. He started to shrug once more when he suddenly remembered a girl in several of his classes named Elena. “Is she that skinny nerdy girl with glasses and all that hair?”

“That’s the one.”

Joe laughed. “She said she’d help me with my classes?”

“Yep.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding. She don’t—doesn’t give anybody the time of day. She’s like a mouse—creeps into class and sits there taking notes all the time.”

“Well, those notes may make the difference between your graduating from school and going on to college, or someday ending up in jail alongside your brother. Your choice, my friend.”

Joe wouldn’t admit it for the world, but the thought of actually getting to go to college electrified him. A chance to get away from the poverty of his home life. A chance to make something of himself. A chance to be able to provide for his mother, who had worked all her life to support him and his brother.

“So what do you think?” Coach asked as the silence lengthened. “Are you willing to work at bringing those grades up so you can continue to play ball? Because if you are, I’ll do what I can to place you in a college next year with a full scholarship. You’ll have to earn it in class, though.”

Joe started to speak, but his voice broke. He cleared his throat. “If you’re sure Elena won’t mind, I’d like to work on getting my grades up.”

“Good choice, son,” Coach Torres said with a big grin on his face. “I’ll let her know. The two of you can work out the arrangements of when and where you’ll work together.”

Joe left the coach’s office that day feeling bewildered. He and a few of his friends spent most of their time chasing around town at night, raising hell. If he was going to start working on his grades, his time was going to be taken up with things other than hanging out with his buddies.

The thought of college made him smile. It might even be worth it.

The truth was, he was ashamed of what Al had done, even though he didn’t blame him. Al had never done much in school. He’d dropped out in the middle of his sophomore year because he’d convinced his mom he would get a job. He hadn’t bothered to tell her that the job wasn’t exactly legal. When you lived on the border, there were all kinds of ways to make money, as long as you didn’t get caught.

He waited until the end of his history class the next day to approach Elena. He’d watched her in English earlier in the day. She’d kept her head down and never looked his way. It was only after he almost ran into her in the hall and saw her blush a fiery red that he knew Coach Torres had spoken to her.

He walked up to her desk as she was placing her books into her backpack.

“Hi,” he said.

She didn’t look up. “Hi.”

“Coach tells me you’re willing to help me bring up my grades.”

She nodded.

“So where do you want to do this—your place or mine?”

Her head jerked up and she stared at him, eyes wide. “I can’t do it at home. My, uh, dad doesn’t like it when I have anyone over.”

He knew that was a crock. He’d asked around about her and found out that her dad rarely worked and spent most of his time in one of the three bars in town. She just didn’t want him there if her dad came home drunk.

Not that he blamed her. But at least she had a father. His dad had left when he was five. He barely remembered him.