Principal Harold Steele stood behind the podium in Lecture Center 1B and looked down at the boys in the seats in front of them. They all wore their letterman jackets with pride, and their coach stood behind them, glaring at the principal with his arms crossed.
“This had better be good, Steele,” he growled, trying to stare down the principal as if he could make him melt into a puddle with the force of his anger alone.
“Oh, it is good, Torkelson, I assure you,” Steele replied, perfectly at ease in his suit and tie. A cool smile played across his lips, and the coach had a minor flutter of apprehension in his chest.
‘What the hell is his game,’ Torkelson wondered, ‘and how the hell does he think he has any cards to play? We’re the best chance this school ever had to win the championship. And he can’t possibly have any proof about us and the Vincent kid. The little fag didn’t see anyone’s face.’
“Gentlemen,” Steele said, the smile widening slightly, “and I used the term loosely, I know you’re responsible for what happened to Mindy Vincent, the TG student who started attending school as herself last week. I’ve suspected you’ve been behind the recent violent attacks against members of the school community who are gay, lesbian, or transgendered, but until last week, I had no way to prove it. Now I do, and I’m here to tell you that the attacks stop now.”
“We don’t know what you’re talking about,” the coach said, his arms folded across his chest.
“Oh?” Steele held up a remote in his hand. “Let me refresh your memory.”
From the speakers around the perimeter of the room, the coach’s voice rang out.
“Another of those girly boy queers has ‘come out,’ boys.” The sneer in his voice made his hatred plain. “I think it’s time for another lesson in how real men deal with faggots who don’t know how to stay in the shadows. You still got the hockey masks, Jimmy?”
“Yes, coach.” Jimmy Lynch squirmed in the audience, hearing the satisfied tone in his own voice. “And Joey’s bringing the baseball bats from the community center.”
“I got some hockey sticks from the peewee league, too, coach.” Pete Cooper said proudly. “And Freddie’s ‘borrowing’ the lacrosse sticks from Central’s outside storage.”
“Good. Since none of that gear belongs to us, they can’t trace anything back to us. We should dig up a tennis racquet or somethin’ for him to defend himself with, don’t you think? Gotta be be sportsmanlike, after all.”
Everyone laughed, and started talking among themselves. All of the team incriminated themselves on the tape in different ways, and the boys sitting there realized that jail time waited in their future.
Steele pressed a button on the remote again, and the room went silent.
“You can’t use that, Steele,” Torkelson shouted. “Recording somebody without them knowing about it is illegal. They’d throw it out of court.”
“Absolutely,” the principal replied, “if I had recorded you all without a warrant. Fortunately, I’m not that stupid. Judge Newman is a good friend of mine, and when I explained that I thought you were responsible for the recent attacks, he was more than happy to provide official sanction for my bugging the locker room.”
His voice grew cold. “I only wish I would have heard that recording in time to stop you. But you won’t be doing it to anyone else. Not anymore. Not on my watch.”
The coach was stunned. He looked over his shoulder, wondering where the cops were.
“Oh, no, coach,” Steele said, his voice hard and empty. “No police here. I have to admit that having you arrested was my first thought. But putting you all in jail wouldn’t solve my ongoing problems with the harassment my LGBT students are receiving. After all, your team is just a reflection of the attitudes of the town. If I put you down, others would come along and take your place.”
He took a deep breath. “No, I have another goal in mind. I’m going to offer you a choice. You’re all going to help me bring this town into the twenty-first century. Or face the consequences of your actions.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“It’s simple. I want you to act as examples to the community. Your players — all of them — are going to embrace diversity and inclusiveness. You’re going to publicly befriend every gay, lesbian, transgendered and bisexual student in this school and keep them all from being harmed. You’re going to make damned sure everyone in Gregson knows how supportive you all are — yourself included, coach. I think that will go a long way towards helping the rest of the town be a little more inclusive, don’t you think?”
“And if we don’t?”
“Well, if you don’t agree to my proposal, I’ll send you all to jail, of course.” Steele pursed his lips. “And, of course, if you pretend to agree and then break our agreement, or tell anyone what’s really going on, you'll all go to jail and be branded as hypocrites. Part of me thinks jail would be a good way for you all to broaden your horizons, see what it feels like to be a victim. After all, some of you boys are pretty enough to do real well there, one you’ve ... settled in.”
The team all shifted uncomfortably in their chairs, and Steele smiled.
“Still, I’d rather hold jail as a last resort.”
The coach’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“Because I don’t like you, Torkelson. Any of you.” The principal’s voice dripped scorn. “I want to make you all suffer the way you’ve made others suffer. Besides, there are so many other things I could do that would make your lives way more interesting — besides actually turning you over to the police, I mean.”
“Like what?”
“For example, if you break our agreement, I could just ... well, out your entire team.”
“WHAT?” The coach’s eyes bugged out, and half the team stood up, shouting. Steele waited until they quieted down, and picked up a second remote.
“Do you remember when the attacks started? We held diversity training sessions for everyone in the school, but when we came to the football team, we added a little extra something, just in case my suspicions about you all were right.”
He pressed play. The screen lit up behind him and a video came on.
“It takes a lot of courage to come out to your parents and other students,” an offscreen voice said, as Jimmy Lynch fidgeted uncomfortably in front of the camera. “Try to put yourself in the place of a gay student in that position. What would you say to your parents if you wanted to tell them the truth about yourself?”
“Are you kidding?” The onscreen Jimmy shook his head, and seemed to look right at the camera. “My Dad would kill me if I told him I was gay.”
“What if you felt you had to,” the voice persisted gently. “Think about it. Suppose you didn’t want to live the lie anymore? What do you think you’d say?”
The football player said nothing, and the voice sighed, “Jimmy, you’re not going to be able to play ball if you don’t complete this class.”
Jimmy looked down for a second, thinking hard, then looked back up into the camera.
“Dad, I know you ain’t gonna like it, but I’m ... I’m gay. I like guys. It doesn’t mean I’m any different from the son you always knew, but I hope you understand that this is who I am, and ... and ... shit! Forget it, man. This ain’t gonna happen.”
“Why not?”
“Because if I was stupid enough to tell him I’m gay, he’d kill me!”
“Please,” the voice insisted, “try again.”
“No!” Jimmy stood up quickly, knocking the chair down behind him. “I’m done. No more.”
The onscreen Jimmy walked out of camera range, and Steele pressed the stop button. Jimmy kept staring at the screen.
“The camera was hidden, of course,” the principal said, “and each of you had your time in front of it.”
“So?” The coach said. “It’s all ‘what ifs!’ There’s nothing incriminating about it.”
“Except that no other students were asked these questions as part of the diversity program, and there were never any video cameras in the room during any of the other classes.” Steele looked down at Jimmy. “As for ‘what ifs’ ... let me show you what some judicious editing can accomplish.”
He pushed a few more buttons, then pressed PLAY again.
“It takes a lot of courage to come out to your parents and other students,” an offscreen voice said, as Jimmy Lynch fidgeted uncomfortably in front of the camera. “I know it’s going to be hard for you, too. What will you say to your parents when you tell them the truth about yourself?”
“Are you kidding?” The onscreen Jimmy shook his head, and seemed to look right at the camera. “My Dad would kill me if I told him I was gay.”
“We both know you want to,” the voice persisted gently. “Think about it. I know you don’t want to live the lie anymore. What do you think you’ll say?”
The football player said nothing, and the voice sighed, “Jimmy, you came to me to help you make this video. Please ... give it a try.”
Jimmy looked down for a second, thinking hard, then looked back up into the camera.
“Dad, I know you ain’t gonna like it, but I’m ... I’m gay. I like ... I like guys. It doesn’t mean I’m any different from the son you always knew ... but I hope you understand that this is who I am, and ... and ... shit! Forget it, man. This ain’t gonna happen.”
“Why not?”
“Because if I was stupid enough to tell him I’m gay, he’d kill me! And I ain’t that stupid!”
“Please,” the voice insisted, “you’re so close to telling him the truth.”
“No!” Jimmy stood up quickly, knocking the chair down behind him. “I’m done. This bites.”
The onscreen Jimmy walked away, and Steele pressed the stop button again.
“All of you made videos, just like that,” he said softly. “Oh, some variations, like telling your buddies instead of your parents, or letting your Mom know you always felt like a girl trapped in a boy’s body. Enough variation to be an authentic spread for a group your size, but all of you confessing on cameras that you were secretly ... not what you appeared to be.”
He put down the remote and picked up a folder.
“This is the PR campaign I paid for. We’ll release the videos with bios of all of you, and how you finally had the courage to come out as a team. Myself and Guidance Counselor Cooper will do a press conference announcing how you all wanted to come out together, and how we helped you make the videos so it would be easier for you to avoid telling your friends and family in person. The PR firm thinks the story could go national. Once it’s out, it will spread, and no one in the media will check with you first when it could mean they’re the last to get the story out. Once it’s done, you can deny it all you want. But we’ll swear this whole thing was your idea, and the videos will back us up.”
“But that’s not all. I know some of you have scouts watching you, and you might have the chance for college scholarships ... maybe even to play pro ball someday. It’s going to be awfully hard to get into the NFL if everyone thinks you’re gay or transgendered ... and if you cross me, I’m going to make damned sure that for the rest of the season, nobody will be able to forget it.”
He reached down and held up a paper.
“This, gentleman, is copy of a letter from the school board. It holds every member’s signature, and gives me the right to arbitrarily change the names of the school’s football team whenever I like.” He put the paper down and picked up a second one. “This is a copy of another letter from the school board, again signed by everyone, authorizing me to change the official school colors, and there’s also a third giving me budget to change all the uniforms and signage on my say-so.”
Steele put down the second paper, and smiled.
“So once you’re officially outed, the name of your football team will instantly become the Gregson Gay Pride. Your uniform colors will be fuchsia and lavender, and the school sports bus will be repainted in those colors with a new rainbow logo to match.” He grinned. “I like the new team motto: GO GAY!!!”
He clicked the remote, and a picture of the new uniform and a mock-up of the sports bus appeared on the big screen behind him. The players stared up at the principal with shock, and he looked back at them impassively.
“You will play every game wearing those uniforms, and every team in the division will take every opportunity to ridicule and abuse you, on and off the field. Oh, by the way, we’ll be replacing those jackets you’re wearing, too, just so everyone you meet will see you’re out and proud.” He pressed a button, turning off the projector, then put down the remote.
“The best part of this option is that, if you do try to deny it and someone eventually believes you, I can still send you all to jail. And no one there will think too hard about whether any member of the Gregson Gay Pride is really gay or not. They’re all practical men. They’ll ... see for themselves, won’t they?”
He smiled again, but the smile never reached his eyes.
“So, that’s your choice,” Steele said. “Stand up and support diversity, or be arrested. Protect those you attacked or be outed yourselves, and wear the proud lavender and fuchsia of Gregson’s first openly gay football team. Your coach will bring me your decision before homeroom tomorrow. Of course, if your answer to my proposal is no, this conversation never took place, the locker room tapes go to the police, and you should all be in jail by lunchtime.”
“That’s blackmail!” The coach roared.
Steele looked over at him with contempt. “Yes, Mr. Torkelson, it is. I bow to your recognition of the obvious ... and hopefully of the inevitable.”
“Of course, if you try to implicate me, the DA will insist he had the evidence for a while, and was just looking for the right way to charge you all as adults and make sure the charges stick.”
The principal picked up his papers and looked over at the team and its coach.
“By the way, if you are thinking about killing me, which I’m sure is how your minds work, you should know that this entire conversation has been recorded, and will go with the sealed recordings from the locker room directly to the DA in the event of my death. He will edit out any mention of his own involvement, of course. But since I’ll be dead at that point, I won’t be worrying about prosecution, after all.”
Torkelson stood in the center of the team, his fists clenched and arms trembling. “You’re playing a dangerous game here, Steele.”
“Am I? I don’t think so. But even if I am, what of it? As you’re so fond of saying, Coach ... no risk, no reward.” The principal held Torkelson’s eyes. “What you don’t understand is that you’re playing my game, and no matter which game plan you choose tomorrow morning, you’ve already lost. And I already know which option I'm rooting for.”
He looked back at the team, and he grinned.
“Go, GAY!” he said, and walked out the door to pick up his niece Mindy from the hospital.
And in the end, we were just outplayed." — Brendan Nagel
Tessa Stuart stood outside the school next to her unmarked cruiser, a cold cup of Starbucks in her hand. Between pauses to use her cruiser’s radio to deploy her officers, she listened to the feed from the mikes in the lecture hall on a separate handheld system, relayed from the surveillance van. It sounded like a madhouse in there, as it had for the thirty seconds it took for Principal Steele to get from there to his own car parked next to hers.
“Hey, Allen,” she said, pausing to throw him a smile. “You sounded like you enjoyed yourself in there just now.”
“That’s ‘cause I did,” he replied, smiling back. “After what he did to Mindy, I enjoyed letting him and the team feel like the whole world was closing in on them. They need to know what it means to feel trapped and alone.”
“Well, you put on a good show, but I’m looking forward to a bit more,” Tess said with just a hint of sarcasm. “Aside from making you feel all righteous and powerful, I’m hoping it will give us more evidence to lock things down. You only managed to get the single bit about Mindy’s attack from the locker room tap, but there were two more attacks prior to that, and they could skate on those without more for the DA.”
“I need to pick up Mindy from the hospital soon, so I hope we get what we need quickly. I'd really like to bring her some good news. I'm not too worried, though. As PT Barnum or HL Mencken once said, ‘You will never go broke underestimating the intelligence of the American public.’” The principal sighed. “I’m hoping to amend that statement to include the coach and his team, but time will tell.”
The detective put up her hand and raised the volume on the handheld.
“Coach! What are we gonna do?”
“Yeah, we can’t go to jail! I’ve got a college scout ready to hand me a check for a full ride at State.”
“Maybe you shoulda thought about that before putting on a mask, Lynch.”
“Maybe you should shut your mouth before I fill it with my fist, Cooper!”
The room erupted in chaos again, and Tessa shook her head. Steele just smiled, and then the coach overpowered everyone.
“Shut up, all of you! We need to think, not start ripping each other to pieces. We’re a team, damn it! Act like one!”
“Sorry, coach.”
“Yeah, you are and you should be. Be quiet for a minute and let me think.”
The room was almost completely quiet, and then Torkelson spoke.
“Stop acting like a bunch of wusses. First, all Steele’s got is that locker room tape from before we beat up the Vincent fag. Nothing else. It makes us look bad, but we could all say we were just joking ...”
“Until they go check that equipment we borrowed, coach.” Joey DeNiro piped up. “They’ll go all CSI on it and find blood and skin and shit.”
Torkelson thought for a minute. Steele imagined the smoke coming out of his ears from the effort. “Well, then, the first thing we do is ‘borrow it’ all again and trash it. Replace it with new stuff so nobody knows it’s gone missing.”
Jimmy Lynch spoke again. “And how do we pay for that, Coach?”
“We put some cash together and do it in Hadleyville, next state over.”
Pete Cooper wailed, “That’s gonna cost a lot!”
The coach cut through his complaint with a shout. “Not nearly as much as jail time, or having everybody think you’re queer. This is crunch time, Cooper. We buy new equipment or we wind up being the most popular ‘ladies’ in the State Pen. Do you read me?”
“Yes, coach.”
“Now, as I was saying, he’s got nothing on the other two fags we beat on, and if we’re careful, we can walk on those too. Without the equipment, there’s nothing to link us to those at all.”
“Znaniecki’s in a bad way, coach. He still hasn’t woken up. What if he croaks?”
“What if he does?”
“Cops hate murder more than just beating on someone.” Cooper again. Torkelson sighs loud enough for the mikes to pick up.
“Geezus, listen to you. You think cops are gonna care about some homo dying? They’re just like us. They know one less fag ain’t gonna hurt the planet any. The other pussy we hit, Kelly ... he won’t even talk to the police ‘cause he’s so damned afraid we’re gonna come back and finish him off, and that they’ll even help us when we do. Maybe when the heat is off, we will. As long as we stick together, as a team, we can get through this.”
Steele nods, his smile growing, and Tessa smiles back. She picks up the mike for the cruiser’s radio. “All units, prepare to move in on my command.”
“What about those DVDs, coach? The principal can still do a lot of damage, even if we dodge the charges on the Vincent kid.”
“Leave him to me.” Torkelson’s voice held a grim satisfaction. “You know I ain’t gonna let him hurt my boys. Sometime tonight, he’s gonna find himself in a room alone with me, and I won’t leave until I know where those recordings are — and until he can’t cause us any more trouble.”
Everybody went quiet.
“You’re ... you’re gonna ... kill him, coach?” Pete Cooper again, his voice hushed in disbelief.
Tessa spoke into her mike. “Hold up, everyone. Wait for my signal.”
“Don’t have much of a choice, boys. It’s him or us. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’d rather it was him.”
There was a stunned silence, then Jimmy Lynch shouted.
“Are you nuts?”
And the whole team erupted.
“Kill Principal Steele? What the fuck is your problem?”
“Bad enough Znaniecki’s in a coma, that was an accident, but this is crazy!”
Torkelson roars. “Cut me some slack. I’m not gonna just leave a body around for someone to find!”
“That’s not it at all,” Cooper shouted back. “You can’t just kill the guy. I like the principal!”
“What the hell are you talking about? He just put your balls in a vise!”
There was a pause.
“Yeah,” Pete replied slowly, “and maybe that’s right where they belong. I never should have gone along with any of this. I grew up with Tom Kelly. He was an okay guy, and even when he turned homo, he never tried anything with anybody I knew.”
“He’s a fag!”
“Yeah, well maybe that ain’t as important as you keep saying it is. He never hurt anybody, and we all beat on him for something that wasn’t a problem until we made it one.”
“Pete’s right, coach,” Jimmy fired back. “Mark Vincent was just some quiet dweeb, too. Never hurt anybody, kept to himself. He decides to be a girl and suddenly he’s a threat?”
There was the scrape of a chair against the floor, and Joey DeNiro spoke.
“They’re right, coach. I mean, come on, kill the principal? He’s always been okay in my book, and he caught us fair, ‘cause he was smart and we were stupid. Stupid? We were idiots! A gang instead of a team. We should just turn ourselves in, guys. We did wrong, and we gotta make it right. We should never have hurt those kids. What the hell were we thinking?”
“But if he’s gone —“
“If he’s gone, what?” Stan Purdy shouted, and you could hear him stand up, too. “You think this is all going to go away? He’s working with a judge and the DA, and you don’t think anybody’s gonna come after us like the wrath of freaking God when he just disappears?”
Jimmy spoke up. “Joey’s right. We gotta turn ourselves in. We gotta make this right.”
Pete followed. “Maybe Officer Trumbull’s still in the security office.”
A whole bunch of chairs scraped the floor and Tessa and Steele heard the footsteps as the entire team headed for the door.
“Wait! What if Steele decides to let those videos loose? You’ll never be able to raise your head in a locker room again!”
There was a long silence, then Jimmy Lynch spoke.
“Steele’s always been a good guy. He told us nothing would happen if we turned ourselves in, and I believe him. And even if I didn’t, maybe we deserve some payback for beating on a bunch of defenseless kids, just ‘cause you said so. Shit, coach, what the hell were you thinking?”
Another silence, and Tessa and Steele could hear somebody spit. Pete Cooper spoke.
“He wasn’t, Jimmy. And neither were we. Let’s go, team.”
Tessa spoke into the mike. “All units, let the boys come out and take ‘em, one at a time. Be gentle, they aren’t gonna resist. They decided to surrender.”
Steele shook his head. “I guess they were better men than I gave ‘em credit for. Except for Torkelson.”
Suddenly Tessa keyed the mike and shouted. “ Units three and four, rush the lecture hall and take the coach. He threatened to murder the principal — no kid gloves for him. Take him down!”
There was a pause, then a burst of static. “Unit Three, the room’s empty. Torkelson’s gone.”
Tessa cursed, then keyed the radio again. “Everybody not involved with the team spread out. I want all outside doors guarded and a room to room search until we get him.”
There was a whistling sound, and suddenly Steele’s right shoulder flared with pain. He fell forward into the side of the police cruiser, and reached up with his left hand to find an arrow lodged in the area between the back and shoulder.
“Get down,” Tessa shouted, and pushed him to the ground between the vehicles. She unholstered her gun and raised herself high enough to see the coach stalking towards them both with a bow and arrow in his hands. He already had another arrow notched.
“Police! Put the weapon down NOW.” Her voice echoed across the empty schoolyard. “The whole school is surrounded, we have a recording of you planning to kill the principal, and you just shot the man with a freaking arrow while he was standing next to the detective in charge. Torkelson, you are so screwed, your legs might as well be threaded clear up to your ass. So put the bow down, or I swear to God I will put you down. NOW.”
Steele’s shoulder felt numb, then hot. He felt rather than saw Tessa stand up, and turned his head to see the arrow bury itself in the side of the cruiser. The detective fired a single shot, and he heard the coach cry out. Then she ran over to him and started reading him his rights, and the principal drifted into the black.
He opened his eyes and found himself lying on a wheeled stretcher in the parking lot. His shoulder hurt, but it felt like it was bandaged, and even thinking about moving his arm caused a spike of pain.
“This whole scheme of yours showed how much of a cowboy you are, Allen,” Tessa said, moving into his field of view. She was smiling. “No wonder you got taken down by an arrow.”
“Yippee kai-ay,” he replied, groaning. “Bruce Willis, I’m not.”
“Thank God for that. Have you seen him lately?” She smiled and put her hand on his other shoulder. “They’re going to take you to County for X-rays and scans. They want to look for any hidden damage, see if the arrow did anything more than what they could see here.”
“And Torkelson?”
“I winged him, made him drop the bow. He’s not saying a word, but he doesn’t have to, We got what we needed from the lecture hall, and from the boys on the team.”
The detective looked down at him, and Steele fidgeted slightly.
“You know,” she said softly, “you never mentioned those edited confessions or the PR campaign before. Suddenly, there they are, and you’re threatening the team with being exposed as something they aren’t.”
Allen nodded, and Tessa bent closer.
“You must have planned that part way before this sting in order to have ‘em for today,” she whispered. He nodded again, and she sighed. “Why?”
“Because I wanted them to suffer,” Steele replied, looking into her eyes. “I wanted everyone to see them and act towards them the way they were acting towards Mindy and others like her. I wanted them to hurt the way those kids hurt every day, because bigots can’t keep their damned mouths shut or their fists to themselves.”
“What happened?”
He shrugged, then winced. “I made the plans, but I was never going to go through with it. I just pulled them out today to add fuel to the fire.”
The EMTs lifted the stretcher and pushed it into the ambulance. Tessa leaned forward.
“Why did you do it ... or rather, why didn’t you? Why go to the trouble to load the gun and not pull the trigger?”
“Well, once I had the recordings and the plans in my hand, I stepped back and took a long look at myself, and then I remembered something very important.”
“Remembered what?”
“I’m not Torkelson,” he said, giving her a crooked grin.
“Damn straight,” she replied, smiling back. “Let’s keep it that way, okay?”
Steele nodded, still grinning, and she closed the ambulance door.