Chapter 44 Hargrove Knows Everything

Chapter 44 Hargrove Knows Everything
Declan

My phone is face-down on the desk. Every forty seconds, I think about the time. It is 9:15 in the morning on a Wednesday, and Carson is currently ruining his life or saving ours. I told him to do it, which makes it my fault either way.

"Moss?" the teacher says. "Are you with us?"

"Yeah," I say. I’m not.

I look at the back of my phone. It’s black and cracked and silent. Carson is in there right now. He’s telling Coach Hargrove everything. He’s telling him about Liam. I trust Carson. He’s a good kid who got caught in a bad spot.

By fifth period, the wait is over. The door to my classroom opens and the office secretary sticks her head in.

"Declan Moss?" she says. "Coach Hargrove wants to see you."

The walk to the athletic office feels like a walk to a funeral. My funeral.

I walk into Hargrove’s office. Carson isn't there. It’s just Hargrove, sitting behind a desk that looks too small for him. He has a folder in front of him. It’s thick. Way too thick for a ten-minute conversation with Carson.

"Sit down, Moss," Hargrove says.

I sit. I don’t lean back. "Carson talked to you."

"He did," Hargrove says.

"I told him to," I say. I want that on the record.

Hargrove looks at me for a long time. He doesn't look mad. "I know you told him to."

"You do?"

"I know a lot of things, Declan. Things you thought you were the first person to find." He taps the folder. "You think you’re the only one who keeps track of what happens in this building?"

"I don't know what you mean," I say. My heart is hitting my ribs like a hammer.

"Marcus," Hargrove says. "Deon. The Osei situation. I know about all of it."

I stare at him. "How?"

"It’s my job to know," he says. He opens the folder. I see names. I see dates. "I knew about the file irregularity in the first week of the school year. I followed the digital trail. It went straight to Liam."

I feel like the air has been sucked out of the room. "The first week? You knew Liam was messing with the scholarship files since the beginning?"

"Yes. Before you had the full picture, yes," he says. He leans forward, crossing his arms over the desk. "I’ve been watching you for a long time, Moss. Not just on the field."

"You could have made it easier," I say. "You could have just told me you had my back."

"I could have made it mine," Hargrove says. "But it wasn’t mine. It was yours. If I stepped in, you wouldn't have learned how to lead these idiots. You wouldn't have figured out who you are when things get ugly."

I look at the folder again. "You’ve been running a parallel record this whole time? Like a separate file on everything I was doing?"

"It’s my job," he says simply. "I’ve maintained a record of your character development for the board. I didn't tell you because then it wouldn't be real. You would have performed for me. I needed to see what you did when you thought no one was looking."

"Two years," I whisper. "You’ve been doing this for two years?"

"Yes."

"What would I have done differently if I knew?" I ask.

"Nothing," Hargrove says.

I think about it. I think about the fights, the late nights, the times I almost gave up. He’s right. I wouldn’t have changed a thing. "Nothing," I agree.

"Exactly."

He closes the folder. The sound is final. Like a door locking. He looks at me, and for the first time, I see something that almost looks like a smile, though it doesn't quite reach his mouth. He’s a hard man. He doesn't do "warm and fuzzy."

"You're going to get the scholarship, Moss," he says.

I blink. I was prepared for a suspension. I was prepared to be kicked off the team. "You sound certain."

"I am," he says.

"How?" I ask. "The board hasn't even met yet. How can you be so sure they’ll pick me?"

Hargrove picks up another file, dismissed. "Because I’ve been certain of it for two years."

He doesn't say it with any emotion. It’s just a fact to him.

I stand up. My legs feel weird, like they belong to someone else. I start to walk toward the door, my head spinning with everything he just told me. He knew everything. He saw me at my worst and he just… waited.

"Moss," he calls out.

I stop at the door and turn around. "Coach?"

"The girl," he says. He doesn't look up from his papers.

"Sir?" I ask, my heart skipping a beat. I think of Juni. Her hair, the way she looks at me, the way she’s the only thing that makes sense in this mess.

"Good call," Hargrove says.

He doesn't explain what that means. He doesn't have to. He just keeps reading, his pen scratching against the paper, leaving me standing in the doorway.

I walk out into the hallway. The lights are too bright. The sound of students laughing in the distance feels like it’s coming from another planet. I walk to my truck and get in. I sit there for a long time, just staring at the steering wheel.

I’m getting the scholarship. I should be happy. I should be screaming. But all I can think about is that sentence. I’ve been certain of it for two years.

I drive home, but I don't go inside. I just sit in the driveway. I don’t know what to do with the fact that my life was being decided by a man who was watching me from the shadows. I don't know if I'm grateful or if I'm terrified.

And I don't know how I'm ever going to tell Juni that even our "secret" wasn't a secret at all.