“The thing that pisses me off,” Shelly Battle said to Alison DuQuoin as they pulled into the parking lot of the Frostee Freeze, “is that some of those girls shouldn’t even be cheerleaders in the first place! I mean, not just because they’re freshmen and sophomores, but there’s a bunch of them that just don’t have enough class to be cheerleaders! I mean, Autumn Trevetheck, a cheerleader? Get real! She’s a nice enough kid, I suppose, but she just doesn’t have the attitude.”

“Yeah,” Alison snorted, “and she’ll probably think that being on football sideline cheer in the fall will qualify her for competitive cheer this winter while we get left out in the cold.”

It had not been a happy week for the temporary former cheerleaders. Shelly hadn’t seen much of Alison this week, because Alison had decided she’d better get started on working off her community service requirements. Mostly it had been long, hot days of picking trash out of ditches of obscure county roads, but if she stayed with it there was a chance that she could have it pretty well completed before school started.

In a way Shelly wished that she could have been with Alison to get that stuff out of the way, but she still had almost two months before her court date. She was sure she was going to draw more community service than Alison had, and some of the stuff they had community service people doing in the winter was cold and not fun.

At least there was always the Frostee Freeze, where she still had some friends. A lot, but by no means all, of the kids that had been booted off the two teams tended to hang out there during practice, mostly to bitch and whine about how bad it all sucked and how their replacements couldn’t find their ass with either hand. There were usually a couple tables of them, and while it was with friends it still wasn’t a happy place. But some ice cream would taste good and maybe even being with unhappy friends would help take the sting out of the day.

As she walked up to the order and pickup window Shelly noted that the usual crowd was there, but when she got up to the window, it wasn’t Ashley Keilhorn’s familiar face that greeted her, but Vanessa Robideaux. “May I take your order?” Vanessa smiled.

“Um . . . Vanessa!” Shelly replied, startled. “I didn’t know you worked here. What happened to Ashley?”

“Oh, she quit so she could help out with football practice,” Vanessa smiled. “I guess having a first boyfriend will do that to you. I did this some last year, so I was lucky enough to get her job to fill out the season. So what can I help you with tonight?”

“Uh, a tin roof and a chocolate milk,” Shelly replied, somehow suspicious of her former friend.

“A couple minutes, you’re number 43,” Vanessa said. “See you in a minute.”

Shelly stood back to wait on her order, thinking unhappily. That business at Alison’s party with Eddie and Scotty still ground at her. Worse, somehow the sheriff knew that Vanessa had been drugged at the party the week before – he’d been around to ask Shelly if she knew anything about it, and of course she had told him that she didn’t. But what did Vanessa know?

As advertised, a couple minutes later Vanessa called Shelly’s number. When Shelly went over to the window, Vanessa handed her the foam tray filled with vanilla ice cream and covered with a hard chocolate cap. Instead of the normal plastic bottle of chocolate milk, tonight it was in a paper cup with a straw and a lid. “Sorry, we’re out of the bottles tonight,” Vanessa said, “but here’s your tin roofie.”

“Thanks,” Shelly said, taking the food and starting toward one of the picnic tables. She got halfway there before it hit her.

Tin roofie?

Oh, my God . . .

Shelly barely made it to the nearest table with her knees shaking badly. The implications were obvious. Vanessa knew. She had to know. Really, it wouldn’t have been all that hard for her to figure out . . .

Shelly looked at the ice cream and chocolate milk like it was a pile of rattlesnakes. That food could have anything in it. Anything!

Come on, pull yourself together, she thought. She’s not likely to have done anything, she didn’t know you were coming, and there are people around. It’s probably OK.

But still . . .

Even if she really suspected that Vanessa had put something in her food she realized that she couldn’t say anything about being suspicious. It seemed just clear as hell that if she did the subject was going to come around to who drugged Vanessa at the party . . . no, she couldn’t say anything.

Worst of all, she was going to be seeing Vanessa around food a lot in the next year – a lot, considering the school cafeteria and maybe some other things. She’d have to be on her guard every instant . . . and no more Frostee Freeze this year, for sure. That meant no more hanging out with such friends as she had after the debacle a week ago Saturday.

This was going to suck. Worse, if Vanessa decided to do something to her it wouldn’t be a last minute thing, she could have time to lay plans and plant her food or drink with something really nasty. She remembered hearing stories of bad drugs that sent people on more or less permanent trips . . . Vanessa wouldn’t do something like that, would she?

Probably not. Well, probably not. But there was no way of telling for sure.

Shelly picked up her ice cream and chocolate milk, and still shaking walked over to the nearest trash can and dumped it, then came back and sat down with Alison, who looked at her curiously. “I thought you wanted some ice cream,” Alison commented.

“Yeah, but now I’m not hungry,” Shelly sighed. “Damn.” As in damn, this is going to be a long winter, she thought – a long, scary winter of looking over her shoulder every inch of the way.

“Come on,” Ashley yelled to Mike Kovacs. “Let’s try it again. I can’t chase the ball all over the field. The holder can’t move very much or it’s going to be a busted play.”

“Sorry, Ashley,” the senior replied from a few yards away. “I guess I need some more practice.”

Ashley chased the loose football down, tossed it back to him, and refrained from making a harsher comment. For one thing, she knew Mike wouldn’t appreciate it – he was a pretty serious Christian and the kind of language she was tempted to use would just put him off. It was nice of him to come out and help with the kicking practice, and there was no doubt that he needed practice over the ball himself.

Mike hadn’t actually played center since middle school, and then not much. He’d mostly had a high school career as a second-string running back and rarely played, but the need for a center and his size sort of volunteered him for the position. Ashley knew he was coming along in the regular position, but getting him to make an accurate throw back to where she was holding the ball for Lyle’s field goal attempts was getting to be an adventure.

Whereas punting involves the kicker holding the ball and kickoffs are made from a stand, field goal and extra point kicks are made from a holder who catches the snap from center. Since most of the other players had other things to do during practice, Ashley had volunteered to hold for Lyle. That was probably just as well as there weren’t many players who were crazy enough to want Lyle swinging his big foot only inches from their hand.

“On three!” she yelled. “One . . . two . . . three!”

This time the snap was better, and she only had to reach up a little to snag it. In one quick move she had it setting on end, and there was the thump as Lyle’s boot connected with the ball, which flew up and away toward the goal post like it had eyes. “Now, that’s more like it,” she called. “Let’s do it again.”

“Three balls left,” Mike called as he bent over one of them.

“Good, about time for a break anyway,” Ashley called, then counted off the numbers again. Once again the kick was good.

About that time Coach Mitch Reardon came walking over. “Hitting them pretty good, I see,” he commented.

“Most of the time, at least when Mike gets the ball to me,” Ashley said.

“I saw that,” Reardon said. “Lyle, you’re trying to kill the ball again. This is a chip shot, not a drive. You want a nice, smooth fluid motion, especially on an extra-point kick. Field goals, the same thing, maybe a little harder. I doubt very much that you’re going to be attempting field goals from much over thirty yards so there’s no point in trying to send it a hundred. Yes, you want it between the goal posts and out of the end zone, but the next county is overdoing it a little.”

“It’s hard to hold back,” Lyle said slowly and unexcitedly.

“Yeah, but it’s what you have to learn to do. The goal is accuracy, not distance, after all. Let’s try your last two while I’m looking, then you can take a break. I need to steal Mike from you, anyway. Once you get rested up, come on over and I’ll run you through a couple of plays.”

Reardon stood back and watched. He’d come out on Saturday morning to get Lyle and Ashley started on field goals after asking Kovacs, and Lyle had really taken to them. Oh, he’d missed a few, but only a few. Before the morning was over with they were trying a few from around the field as simulated field goals, and he was hitting those pretty good, too. He’d only found out this afternoon that the three of them had spent most of Sunday evening out there, working on Lyle’s kicking. If the kid continued to improve at this rate there was a lot of potential there. He made a mental note: the whole team was going to have to get some practice at setting up for extra-point and field-goal attempts. Lyle was going to need the under-the-gun practice too; it wasn’t quite the same thing, but somehow Mitch didn’t think that the pressure was going to rattle this kid much.

The two kicks went well, although, as Ashley had said, Kovacs needed more practice at long snaps. Lyle walked easily over to the sideline, where the lawn chair was waiting – they couldn’t have it on the field with practice actually under way – while Ashley and Mike headed out behind the end zone to gather up the footballs that had landed there. Mitch decided to walk along with him.

“You’re really getting the hang of it, Lyle,” he said. “I suspect that you’re going to really add something to the team.”

“I hope so,” Lyle said. “I still feel pretty useless having to sit around most of the time.”

“Don’t think the other kids don’t understand,” Mitch said gently. “In fact, you’re an inspiration to some of them. They understand that you’re doing the best that you can, and even if it isn’t quite what they’re doing, your best is pretty good. I think we’re going to have to get started on live-action plays pretty soon.”

“I can see how that could be a little different,” Lyle said. “I suppose that means we’re going to have to find someone else to hold for me.”

“Yeah, that’s starting to become an issue,” Reardon said. “I’ll talk to Howie about it, although we’ve had to pile a lot onto that kid. More than I want to. We’ll see.”

Lyle plopped down in the lawn chair at the end of the bench as Reardon walked away, thinking hard. Putting a strange holder in front of Lyle probably wouldn’t do much to help his fragile confidence, which was at least holding steady. That issue was going to have to be dealt with soon, but he hated the thought of asking Erikson to put in even more time than he already was, learning a new system and new moves along with it.

Then an idea crossed his mind. No, he thought, they’d never go for it . . . but it had been done, if rarely . . . maybe he ought to talk to Kulwicki about it before he brought it up to the kids, and Kulwicki was at the school board meeting. Maybe later . . .

“Well,” John Archer said after glancing at the big clock on the wall, “I guess we might as well get started.” He tapped the gavel lightly on the tabletop and said loudly and more formally, “The regular meeting of the Spearfish Lake School Board is now in session.”

Though Harold Hekkinan had long ago lost count of the number of meetings of the Spearfish Lake School Board he had attended, he was aware that this was only the second where he’d been sitting at the head table as superintendent. While he didn’t preside over the meeting – John Archer did that, also for only the second time ever – he facilitated it and had a large amount of influence over the way it ran.

Hekkinan was aware, of course, that George Battle wasn’t happy about much of anything that had happened in the last ten days. There had been several loud and extensive phone calls listening to him complain about it, and more than a few face-to-face meetings. It was pretty clear that George didn’t fully realize that he wasn’t Board President any longer, just one vote of seven.

Hekkinan knew that board meetings in recent months hadn’t had a large turnout of interested citizens, but given all that had happened in the last few days, the turnout of citizens and parents was smaller than he had been expecting. While that was good news in a way, it didn’t mean that this meeting was going to be quiet.

It was traditional – and policy – that the board meetings were run in a very structured manner, with close adherence to the agenda, which generally he had set, along lines that had long been used. The first few items went off quickly – minutes, regular monthly reports, and things like that, most of which were passed quickly on a rubberstamp vote. However, before they got into the meat of the old and new business, the next major section of the agenda was “Personnel Actions.”

There were several, including acceptance of the resignation of Bryson Payne. Anissa Hodges moved to accept the resignation, rather pointedly omitting the usual “with regret” that went with such motions. Josh Archer seconded the motion, and it quickly went to a vote, passing 6-1 with only Battle voting against, for what good it might do.

Several other personnel actions were accepted in a single action, including the recall of Crystal Elsasser and Amy Lowenthal from layoffs to teaching positions in the high school.

The final item on the “Personnel Actions” part of the agenda was “Approval of Hiring High School Principal and Athletic Director.” Once again, Anissa Hodges moved the acceptance, and this time Dennis Bergen seconded it. Feeling that this had to be one of the stupidest questions he’d ever asked, John Archer quietly asked, “Any discussion of this from the board?”

“Yes,” Battle replied firmly, even loudly. “I would like to call the board’s attention to the fact that Mrs. Wine has no experience as either a principal, an assistant principal, or an athletic director. I feel that hiring Mrs. Wine for both positions is unwise, and her actions within minutes of her taking the position as interim principal and athletic director prove my point. Her very first move as athletic director was to fire the long-time, proven coach of the football team and put a new coach into place that, while his experience with football cannot be argued, has had no experience as a coach of high school players. Secondly, within hours of taking over the position, she suspended over thirty members of the high school football and cheerleading teams. This wholesale elimination of players and their replacement by younger players puts them into real danger when playing against larger, more experienced players. I ask that the board reject her hiring as high school principal and athletic director and re-instate those players and coaches that have been removed.”

“Mr. Battle,” Archer replied, “first off, let’s remove re-instatement of the players and coaches from this discussion, as it’s not on the agenda.”

“It’s part of the whole question,” Battle replied. “It has to be done to repair the wholesale damage that has been done to the football program as the result of the unjust, unwarranted, and incompetent actions done to the program within hours of her taking the position on an interim basis. We had a system that worked. Why should it be thrown out?”

“Because it wasn’t working,” Anissa pointed out. She was a longtime critic of Weilfahrt as football coach, and getting rid of him was one of the quid pro quos of her joining John Archer in the walkout that had led to DeRidder’s being thrown out as superintendent. “Mr. Battle, you have heard me discuss this before. The former coach had been a coach here for sixty-three games, of which he lost fifty-one, over eighty percent. The best season he had here was four and five. It was time for a change, and in fact, it had long been time for a change. It’s unfortunate that the change had to be made at the last minute before football practice, but at least it has been done. I grant you that Mr. Kulwicki has no experience as a high school football coach, but I’ve watched football practices enough to see that the players are responding well to him. And I would have to say they’re responding better than they did to the previous coach. I agree, ‘If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it,’ but with a success rate of less than twenty percent it was broke, and it needed fixing badly. The first steps have been taken.”

“Even so,” Battle replied, not backing down in the slightest, “the wholesale suspensions of team members over what were at best minor infractions of the Athletic Code of Conduct was unjust, unwarranted, and disrespectful of students that have put a lot of effort over the years into the football and cheerleading teams. As I stated earlier, the action of bringing Junior Varsity players up to the Varsity level before their time puts them at considerable risk of injury. They’re going to be playing way over their heads, and we’re going to get some injured students out of it.”

He paused for breath, and Dennis Bergen jumped into the hole. “Mr. Battle,” he said, “you sat at this table five months ago when we passed the revised Athletic Code of Conduct, and as I recall your vote was in favor of it. Are you now saying that it doesn’t mean anything?”

“I didn’t expect such rigid enforcement of minor points,” Battle huffed. “There has to be some slack in enforcement on a case-by-case basis, rather than wholesale suspensions.”

“What you’re saying, then,” Bergen retorted, “is that the rules shouldn’t be enforced at all, or only in the most extreme situations, for football players and cheerleaders, but strict enforcement is required for, oh, basketball team members, track team members, wrestlers, and the like?”

“You’re putting words in my mouth,” Battle sneered. “I never said anything like that. All I’m saying is that the rules need to be enforced with a little humanity and with a little flexibility. Kids will be kids, after all, and you can’t expect them to be perfect all the time. You have to let them have a little fun.”

“Mrs. Wine,” John Archer said, “would you like to comment?”

“Thank you, Mr. Archer,” Brandy said, standing up. “While I will admit to little experience as an athletic director, I would like to point to my long experience as a coach in the enforcement of the Athletic Code of Conduct. Just for the sake of the record, the Spearfish County Sheriff’s Department with the help of the Spearfish Lake Police Department arrested forty-three minors at the illegal beer party a week ago Saturday. Of those forty-three, seven individuals, all girls, were not members of any team and therefore are not part of the discussion. Of the remaining thirty-six, a total of twenty individuals, both cheerleaders and football team members, received multiple charges as a result of the party, or, in five cases, committed documented violations of the Athletic Code of Conduct without other enforcement over the course of the summer. In all cases the individuals involved have pleaded guilty to the charges against them, or are facing trial. All twenty of those were removed from their teams for the season under the Athletic Code of Conduct.

“Sixteen other individuals were also charged with single offenses as the result of the party. Again, all either have pleaded guilty or are facing trial. All of those received punishment as required by the Athletic Code of Conduct, suspension from practice and games until three games have been played. One other individual, a football player, came to me after the suspensions had been announced and told me that he had been at the party, but had not been arrested. In view of his honesty in coming to me, I used some of the flexibility in the rules to give him a reduced suspension.

“Unlike what Mr. Battle alluded to, there is some flexibility in the enforcement of these rules. Especially in the case of those suspended for part of the season, the students received punishments less than they could have, and less than they would have had they been playing basketball under me. If the board feels that I have gone too easy on these students, I’m certainly willing to consider full-season suspensions.”

“Mrs. Wine,” Battle broke in. “Isn’t it the job of the coaches to enforce these rules, not the athletic director?”

“Normally, but not necessarily,” she replied. “The Code of Conduct, which you approved, states that the coach, the athletic director, or the principal can take action as necessary. I would have preferred that Mr. Kulwicki or the cheerleading coach take the action, but considering that Kulwicki is new on the job I decided to not saddle him with that as well. He concurred with my decision, as did the cheerleading coach.” The latter was only reluctantly, Brandy thought without saying – she’d been faced with a “take action or leave” statement, but knowing what had happened with Weilfahrt, had decided that discretion might be wise. “The individuals involved are aware that they can appeal their action to the school board, or at least they ought to be if they’ve actually read the Athletic Code of Conduct. I see from the agenda tonight that none have done so.”

“Will somebody please explain to me,” Battle said rather sarcastically, “why the school administration can land on these kids so hard, yet two and a half years ago we had a student who shot and killed two people and received no punishment from the schools at all?”

“Mr. Battle,” John Archer replied icily, “I know who you’re pointing at with that statement and it’s out of order. However, since others will raise the question, I’d like to ask Mr. Hekkinan to explain, as he was principal at the time of the incident.”

“It’s fairly simple,” Hekkinan said. “The individual you are referring to was not an athlete, and therefore not subject to the Athletic Code of Conduct, just like the seven non-athlete girls arrested at the illegal party. I’m sure you are aware that the individual who you are referring to was not charged for the shooting due to self-defense. It was entirely a civil matter and not in the purview of the school. I need not get into the problems caused by an individual who thought he could take the law into his own hands and try to make it the business of the school. However, the thirty-seven individuals disciplined in the action taken last week were athletes, had signed the Athletic Code of Conduct and chose to not honor it. I consulted with Mrs. Wine before the action was announced and agreed that it was her decision to make.”

“That’s selective enforcement of the worst kind!” Battle fumed.

“Like it or not, it’s the law,” Hekkinan replied. “Just like our student athletes, we have to follow the law, not flout it at our convenience.”

“But how about those kids that were raised to varsity before they were ready?” Battle fumed, realizing that he was losing but not about to give up. “We’re going to wind up getting kids hurt, totally unnecessarily.”

“Mrs. Wine,” John replied, obviously holding his temper, “would you like to address that question?”

“Obviously it is a risk,” Brandy replied. “Any student who puts on a uniform and walks onto a football field is taking a risk of injury, but it’s a risk that we’ve historically agreed to accept. There have been any number of instances in the past where sophomores and even freshmen have been raised to the varsity, and they’ve always accepted that risk. When the suspensions were announced, I was faced with the question of canceling much if not all of the varsity season, or doing the same for the junior varsity. There were five students who did not get into trouble as they didn’t attend that party. Under state athletic association rules, they could not be returned to the junior varsity. So it was a question of raising the junior varsity players to varsity so those five students wouldn’t be punished for something they did not do. I put the question to the football players, and they agreed to take the risk.”

“One or two exceptional kids raised to varsity is one thing,” Battle almost shouted. “A wholesale deal like that is totally different.”

“I think we’re just wasting our breath,” Dennis Bergen said. “Nobody’s mind is going to be changed if we discuss this till the cows come home. I call the question.”

Calling the question, under the board’s rules, forced a vote as long as there had been time for discussion. When George Battle’s name was called, he voted a resounding “NO!” but lost on a 6-1 vote. Hekkinan could glance down the table and see the steam just about roll out of Battle’s ears – it was a solid defeat with no wiggle room and he knew it. But then, Hekkinan could see that John Archer had a pretty good head of steam up too, as a result of Battle’s trying to turn the argument personal.

Fortunately the next several items on the agenda were non-controversial rubber stamp items, which allowed tempers to cool off a bit. One of them was an item titled “Football Bleachers.”

“As you know,” Hekkinan told the board, “the bleachers at the football field are in sad shape, and parts are approaching unsafe. Two years ago there were plans in the works to do a major rebuild of them, but they had to be canceled due to the economic conditions.” And, he thought, the fact that DeRidder and Payne had pissed off Ryan and Randy Clark enough to kill the support of the Donna Clark Foundation to rebuild them. “I’m pleased to announce that Clark Construction has offered to make emergency repairs to them in time for football season to start, using some of their people as volunteers and doing the work at cost, to be paid by Clark Plywood. That should hold us for a year or two, and Ryan Clark tells me that if economic conditions continue to improve the Donna Clark Foundation may be in a position to do major financing of a complete rebuilding by that time.” It was the first tiny reopening of a tap that had been closed by Clark in the wake of the Cody Archer affair. “I would ask the board’s approval to accept the donation.”

That one was quickly accepted, even by Battle. The meeting rolled on, mostly with rubber stamp items or minor discussion, until the agenda reached “Items from the members.” When Battle’s turn came, he said, “I would like to reopen the subject of the reinstatement of the players and coaches that were unnecessarily suspended from play this season.”

John Archer killed that one quickly. “It’s a legitimate question,” he said, “but it’s not on the agenda. I would ask the superintendent to put it on the agenda for the next meeting.”

“I can do that,” Hekkinan said.

“But the season will be well past started by then,” Battle replied hotly. “This needs action tonight!”

“Sorry, Mr. Battle,” John smiled. “Under the board rules you promulgated while you were sitting in this chair, taking action tonight would be out of order. I would point out that taking that action will require a second vote at a subsequent board meeting.”

“But the season will be almost over by then!”

“Yes,” John smiled, “but once again, we have to follow the rules that we set.”

As soon as the meeting was adjourned, Battle stormed out of the room without bothering to talk to anyone, while several others stood around to talk. “I don’t think we’re done hearing from him,” Brandy commented to John.

“Probably not,” John said, “but there’s not a lot he can do now short of trying for a recall, and that won’t settle anything until well after the season is over with. If the team has a reasonably successful season, that ought to take most of the ammunition from his argument. By successful, I don’t mean a lot of wins, I just mean avoiding a lot of humiliating losses. So, Brandy, what happens next is up to you, Kulwicki and the kids.”

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