It had come as a true surprise to everyone, to see him suddenly fall on the field, and removed on a stretcher. The rest of the team carried through the last play and managed to pull off a win, but it was marred by the absence of their star. Everyone was waiting for news, but those who had seen it happen knew there was only one outcome—Drew Boutan's football career was over.

The sixteen-year-old reclined on his hospital bed, one arm behind his head, his right knee wrapped and propped up on a pile of pillows. In the corner was a small TV set high on the wall showing a rerun of a 90's sitcom he didn't know the name of. Flowers and balloons and gift baskets filled the private room.

There was a soft knock on the open door, and Drew looked over to see Jason Travis standing in the doorway. "Is the patient seeing visitors?" asked the man.

"Yeah, yeah, come in," Drew said, pushing up into a more sitting position.

"I see where everything from the gift shop ended up," Jason said, coming to the bed.

"Yeah," Drew said, laughing and clasping hands with the other man. "Everyone went a little overboard."

"It's good to be popular."

"You say that like you weren't."

"I wasn't. I was the skinny kid with no upper body strength that couldn't do a pullup in gym class."

Drew laughed. "That, I would love to see."

"Well, you're never going to. How are you?"

Drew lay back on the pillow and rubbed his leg. "Shattered kneecap and torn ligaments," he replied. "I won't be playing football anymore."

"I'm sorry, Drew."

Drew shrugged. "These things happen."

"Don't get too emotional, now," Jason said, making the boy laugh. "You don't seem that broken up about it—besides literally."

"Honestly," he said. "I'm not. I'm a little relieved." He stiffened and glanced at Jason, as if expecting a reprimand. "I mean—"

Jason smiled. "It's okay. Talk to me. That's why I'm here."

Drew relaxed into the bed. "I thought you were here to get me to join the military."

"Officially, yes. And for my official business, I'm sorry to say an injury like this makes you unqualified to join any branch of the military."

"Just as well," Drew said. "Probably wouldn't have made it anyway. My arm was busted even before my knee."

Jason paused. "Did anyone know about that?" he asked.

"I don't think so," Drew said, frowning.

Jason nodded. "Well," he said, smiling, "I may not be a trained counselor, but I can listen pretty well and nod and smile. Want to tell me what's on your mind?"

Drew hesitated. "I don't want to sound ungrateful," he began. "A lot of people believed in me, and gave up a lot to get me where I am. Not in the hospital, I mean—"

"I know what you mean," Jason said, smiling.

"My parents, my couches, the fans. But..." He paused. "But it's like, everyone was so focused on me, and what I was going to be. The whole town had pretty much decided I was going to be this great football star and put them on the map. Now, I feel a little...free."

Jason gave a low, brief laugh and shook his head. "That's ironic," he muttered.

"What is?"

Jason looked up. "Nothing," he said, smiling. "Just that, sometimes someone can be a little too free."

Drew didn't really get it and looked at the other man with an expression that showed that.

Jason brushed past it. "Any ideas about what you're going to do with your newfound freedom?"

Drew shrugged. "College is out of the question; all my scholarships disappeared when I went down."

"That's not necessarily true. A lot of colleges would still take you on as student coach. You could train for that."

Drew hesitated. He glanced at the man. It was a strange thing Drew was feeling, a feeling of trust and openness toward someone he hardly knew, rather than those closest to him. He couldn't explain it, but he went with it. "Football was something I was good at," he said, finally, "not really something I loved. It wasn't, like, a passion or anything."

Jason nodded. He looked off to the side for a moment. "Do you have any passions?" he asked.

Drew looked down. He could only think of one thing he had ever really cared for, but she was buried in the cemetery on the edge of town. "No," he said. "Not anymore, not really."

Jason looked at him, at the strange expression that crossed his face, but didn't mention it. "Well, look, you've got time to figure all that out," he said. "That's what youth is for. But I urge you to not count college out just yet."

"I'm not exactly the best student."

"You don't have to be."

"Why are all you adults so obsessed with college?"

Jason smiled, thinking about another boy who had asked him something similar just a few days ago. "I don't know about other adults," he said. "But I want you to know that high school isn't the end, or even the beginning, of life. There's more out there, just waiting for you."

Drew looked at him, at the clear eyes and smiling face. He realized this man had expectations for him, too—no, not expectations. This man had hope for him. "Okay," he said. "I'll think about it."

Jason pumped a fist. "Yes!" he said, making the teenager laugh. "I'm two for two."

"Who's the other one?" Drew asked.

"David Otto," Jason said. "You may know him," he added, with a playful raised brow at the boy.

Drew lay back on the bed as Jason began poking through the various baskets and cards on the tables and chairs in his room. "I saw what happened with Crowley," he said.

"You saw?"

"Yeah, I got like a dozen videos sent to me."

Jason snorted, picking up and reading a get well card. "But funny how when it came time to provide evidence, not a single person had managed to get it on video."

Drew looked back at the TV. "No one's going to rat on Crowley," he said. "Not for him."

Jason made a gruff sound in his throat. "Don't I know it," he muttered.

Drew glanced at him. "Heard about your suspension, too. That how come you're here during school hours?"

"You're a regular detective, Boutan," Jason said. "Maybe you should study that."

"Yeah," Drew said with a breathy laugh. He looked back the TV. "Like I could help anyone."

**

Bailey sat behind his desk in the empty classroom, grading quizzes. It was after three, and the building was empty and silent, so when there was a soft tap on the door he almost jumped. Looking up, his eyes widened at the sight of the darkly dressed boy in the doorway. "David," he said. "This is a pleasant surprise."

Adjusting his bag over his shoulder, David stood with his other hand in the pocket of his hoodie, black hair fringed over his black rimmed eyes. "Sorry," he said in his quiet way. "Do you have a minute?"

"Of course," Bailey said. "Come in, have a seat."

David did, coming in and sitting at a desk in the first row. Bailey stood and came around the desk to perch on the edge in front of the boy. "I heard a video showing the whole incident with Crowley was sent in anonymously. He's suspended without pay, pending an investigation. That must be a relief."

"Not really," David said, sitting and folding his arms on the desk. "Now everyone hates me for being the cause of that."

"Well..."

David glanced up at him. "Thank you," he said. "For stepping in."

Bailey looked away and gave an awkward, nervous laugh. "I didn't do anything, though, did I?"

"You tried," David said. "That was enough. And..." He hesitated. "I've come to ask you to help me with something else."

"Anything," Bailey said immediately. "Anything you need, David. What is it?"

"Graduation."

Bailey's eyes lit up.

"I want to graduate on time," David continued. "And you said in the past that—"

"Of course!" Bailey interrupted, unable to contain himself, making David jump. "Of course, I can help with that. It won't be that hard either, you're a wonderful student, David, and with some extra credit work and afterschool tutoring, there is no reason why you can't graduate with your friends."

David bit back his usually reply and said instead, "Thanks."

Bailey fairly beamed. This, at least, was something he could do for the boy. And he would not fail him this time. "You'll have to apply yourself," he said. "No more absences, or cutting classes, and you have to do all the work. You can't miss a single one."

"I won't," David said.

"I'll have to check, but I think most of the work can be made up, but you might have to take some summer courses. You'll still be able to walk at graduation, though," he added hurriedly, as if it mattered.

David smiled, because it didn't.

Bailey looked at him, impressed by his seemingly firm resolve. "Can I ask," he said, "what changed your mind? What made you decide to try, rather than giving it all up?"

David glanced up at him, then away. "Someone told me there was more to life than high school," he said. "That there was more to this world than this town, and for the first time, I believed that. And I want to see it."

He looked back up at the man. "So, I want to move forward, secure in the knowledge that once I leave, I won't ever have to come back, physically or academically. I can put all this behind me, and not ever have to come back to complete something so basic. Once I build my foundation, I won't have to think about it anymore."

Bailey pulled up, blinking, slightly taken aback by the strong words. "Well," he said. "You certainly put a lot of stock in this person."

David knew he was expecting a response, an explanation, but he offered nothing.

After a few moments Bailey cleared his throat and moved back behind his desk. "Well, I assume you're applying for colleges as well? Do you know what you're going to study?"

"Yes," David said. "I have an idea."

**

There was no other word for it; Bailey was excited. He had abandoned the quizzes to already begin putting together the material David would need and was by the filing cabinet in his office when he happened to glance outside the window. The day was a light grey, the sky overcast, the ground hard and the concrete damp. His office overlooked the front drive, and his gaze was caught by a figure standing by the gate post.

It was Jason Travis, wearing a dark coat opened in the front, hands in his pockets and one leg bent to brace the wall behind him. As Bailey watched, a group of girls coming from some afterschool club passed him, waving and giggling and stopping to chat with the handsome recruiter.

Baily frowned. He didn't think the man should be around teenage girls, looking like that. There had been young, handsome military recruiters before, but there was something about this man that bothered him. He huffed and made to move on, when a darkly dressed figure came walking down the drive—David. As Bailey watched, Travis broke away from the girls and went to meet the teenager, who stopped. They spoke, Travis laughed and lightly tapped David on the shoulder with a loose fist, then they both continued down the drive and past the gate, Travis not paying the least attention to the girls who lingered.

Bailey frowned. He felt it in his gut. Something wasn't right. It felt...indecent.

He left his office and made his way down to the administrative offices but paused. Was it really his business, what the two of them were doing? Yes—he had tried to interfere on David's behalf before and failed. Failed him multiple times in multiple ways. He would not fail the boy this time.

Turning, he strode into the office and straight to the Principle. Mrs. Davis looked up at him, startled by his abrupt presence.

"Mr. Bailey," she said. "I thought everyone had left a long—"

"We have to talk," he said. "It's about David and Major Jason Travis, and their...relationship. Something's not right there."

She looked at him with her dark, intelligent eyes. "Close the door," she said. "Have a seat. Tell me everything you know."