Coach Amos

Amos Binder was sitting on a bench in the hall outside the principal’s office. He had chewed off every fingernail on both hands down to the nub.

His lifetime best friend, Duncan—Dunc—Culpepper was waiting with him. “Don’t worry, Amos. It can’t be that bad.”

“You didn’t see Ms. Fishbeck after the accident. I’ve never seen anybody so mad. She told her secretary it was too bad public hanging is illegal.”

“Tell me again how it happened.”

“I was on my way to Mr. Finsky’s English class. I had plenty of time, so I stopped
over there to get a drink.” Amos pointed at a water fountain across from the principal’s office.

“Then what?”

“Then I heard the phone. I knew I had to get it on the outside chance it was Melissa calling to tell me why she wasn’t in school today.”

“
Outside
would definitely be the word for it all right.”

Amos’s girlfriend was Melissa Hansen. Only she didn’t know it. In fact, she didn’t know him. To Melissa, Amos sort of blended in with things: the wallpaper, the wall, the scenery.… But he was sure, every time a phone rang, any phone, that Melissa had finally discovered her love for him and had decided to call.

“Anyway,” Amos continued, “you know how she likes me to get it on that all-important first ring.”

Dunc nodded. He knew that since Melissa had never called Amos, she couldn’t care less what ring he answered it on. “How much damage did you do this time?”

“Well, it all depends on how you look at
it. I don’t know if the office door counts. That could have happened to anybody. The glass in that door was just waiting to fall out. And I didn’t actually ruin the secretary’s desk. She was pouring toner into the copy machine when I pole-vaulted over the counter with the coat rack. I guess she got a little excited and forgot where she was pouring it. It really did a job on her computer.”

“Is that it?”

“The rest wasn’t totally my fault, either. My sights were set on the phone. My jump was classic. Only I forgot about the aquarium on the other side of the counter. I caught it with the toe of my tennis shoe. All fifty gallons tipped over on the brand-new carpeting that the student council just bought. Good carpet—it soaked every bit of that water up in nothing flat.”

“Did you ever make it to the phone?”

Amos shook his head. “Mrs. Snipe, the secretary, lost it completely and pulled the phone out of the wall when she went for the principal.”

Dunc stood up. “Well, I’ll come to your funeral. See ya.”

“Wait.” Amos grabbed his arm. “I thought you were going to help me get through this.”

“The way I see it, she’s going to kill you. No way around it. It might be better if I wait for you outside. I can’t stand the sight of blood.”

“That’s what I like about you, Dunc. You always know how to reassure a guy.”

“Mr. Binder.”

Amos looked up. A tall woman with beady eyes and glasses that slid halfway down her long thin nose was standing in the door, thumping a ruler into the palm of her hand. It sounded like a guillotine hitting meat.

“Yes, Ms. Fishbeck. I’m coming.” Amos slowly stood up. He took a step toward the office lobby, turned, and dived for Dunc’s legs. “Please don’t leave me.”

“Amos, let go. I can’t walk.”

“That’s the idea.”

“Amos.”

“I’ll never ask you for anything as long as I live—which may not be long—just come
in with me. She won’t be able to do anything violent if you’re watching.”

Dunc sighed. “Oh, all right. But”—he held up one finger—“I’ll sit in the lobby.”

“Ye-es!” Amos pulled him in the door and whispered, “If you hear anything that sounds the least little bit like child abuse, don’t hesitate to call the police.”

“I’m waiting, Mr. Binder,” Ms. Fishbeck snapped.

Amos took a couple of steps toward her office. He turned and gave Dunc his most pitiful look.

Dunc motioned for him to go on.

Amos took a deep breath, threw his shoulders back, and marched through the door like a condemned man.

“Close the door, Mr. Binder.” Ms. Fishbeck’s glasses slipped down her nose, and she watched Amos over the top of them.

Amos pointed at the door. “This door? This one right here? You don’t want this door closed, Ms. Fishbeck—because—because—of the poor circulation. That’s it.
People really should have more incoming fresh air and—”

“CLOSE THE DOOR!”

“Yes, ma’am.” Amos pushed the door. It slammed shut.

“Mr. Binder.”

Amos jumped back. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Please have a seat.”

Amos swiftly moved to the chair in front of her desk and perched on the edge. He started chewing what was left of the tatters of his fingernails.

Ms. Fishbeck opened a notebook. She studied the contents. “Ummm-huh.” She tapped the ruler on the desk while she read.

Amos looked out the window.
This is it
, he thought.
I’ll never see blue sky again. She’s thought of some awful punishment. Probably spit-shining the halls with a Q-tip. No, I bet it’s worse—the toilets in the boys’ gym.

“Mr. Binder, I like to consider myself a fair person. I’ve reviewed your case from every possible angle and still cannot make sense of what happened here this morning.”

Amos stood. He put one hand in his
jacket and paced the floor, lawyer style. “It’s really very simple, Ms. Fishbeck. You see, I had a personal phone call and was on my way to answer it, when—”

“SIT DOWN!”

Amos lunged for the chair.

“Mr. Binder.” Ms. Fishbeck started the tapping again. “You may not be aware of this, but you have set a record—for the most public property destroyed in the least amount of time.”

Amos chewed his lip. “That’s not good, is it?”

“No. It isn’t. The school district frowns on this sort of behavior. It sets a bad example for the rest of the students. I have discussed your case with the school board, and we have agreed on your punishment.”

Amos backed out of Ms. Fishbeck’s office. “Yes, ma’am. Right away. You can count on me. You won’t be sorry.” He turned, grabbed Dunc’s arm, and pulled him out to the hall.

“How did it go?” Dunc asked. “I didn’t hear any screaming.”

“You sound disappointed.”

“What did she do to you?”

“She told me I was a bad example. She wants me to do something for the school district to help pay for the damages and to set a good example for the other students.”

“What?”

“Well, it sort of involves you.”

Dunc stopped. “Wait a minute. I didn’t trash the office. I wasn’t even around.”

“I know. But I told Ms. Fishbeck that since you were my best friend, I was sure you’d want to help me in this little project. She was thrilled that you would volunteer.”

“Amos, I didn’t volunteer. I don’t even know what you’re doing. And besides, you said if I went in the office with you, you’d never ask me for anything else—in your whole life.”

Amos waved his hand. “Details. Here’s the deal. The school board agrees to let me off without paying anything if I—no, I mean
we
—agree to coach one of the district’s T-ball teams.”

Dunc stared at him for a few minutes. Then he turned and walked down the hall and out the double doors to the bicycle rack.

When Amos finally caught up with him, Dunc was halfway home. He pedaled up next to him. “You
are
going to help me with this, aren’t you?”

“Amos, T-ball means kids. Little kids. And parents. Big, pushy parents. Didn’t she give you any other choices?”