Slow and Steady Rush by Laura Trentham

burly center, stood in the doorway, shifting on size-fifteen feet. Sweat crept down his face to wet the collar of his frayed, loose T-shirt. Strawberry red burst on his ruddy cheeks.
    A glance at the schedule told him Tyler should be in the weight room with Logan. Tyler had a shot for a college scholarship, but only if scouts came to watch, and scouts only watched winning teams.
    “Not too busy for you. What’s up?” Robbie prepared himself for anything. He hadn’t planned to address the rumors with the team, but they’d surely heard.
    “Well … I …” Tyler gnawed a lip and eased into a chair. His fingers played with each other in his lap. “I wanted to talk to you.”
    “Shoot.” Steel tensed Robbie’s back, and his shoulders hunched in a defensive posture he couldn’t seem to stop.
    Tyler popped out of the chair, ambled round the office, and palmed one of the many footballs lying around. Smacking it against his opposite hand, he said, “A few of us seniors are having problems with a book.” The boy’s gaze stayed on the ball. Tyler shook his head, and his mouth pulled into a frown.
    The statement took Robbie aback. Maybe the team hadn’t caught wind after all. Maybe the rumors would die a quick death. “Okay. Which one?”
    Tyler regained the chair, the legs creaking under his bulk. “ To Kill a Mockingbird . It’s required reading this summer, but most of us don’t get it. We have to hand in a report the first day of school. I can’t afford to start off with an F.”
    “I haven’t read it either, but I can grab a copy from the library and help you boys out.”
    “That’d be awesome. I’ll tell the others.” Tyler got up to leave but stopped in the doorway. “Don’t worry about what everyone’s saying, Coach. It’ll all be good once we win, right?”
    “Right,” Robbie said with a small laugh. So much for a quick death. “Get on back to the weight room.”
    Practice went better than expected. A few snickers resulted in extra laps and pushups, and that’s where it ended. The benefit to the gossip was less bleacher babes in attendance to distract the players and coaches. Sheila was there, but no sign of Darcy.
    After a shower and a change of clothes, he stopped at the library. Cars packed the lot. The citizens were invested in the football team, and Robbie was its CEO. They expected him to be friendly and available, even if it didn’t come naturally.
    He debated whether to leave the errand for another day. A beer and his armchair called. The minivan parked next to him backed up to reveal a tiny blue convertible with Georgia plates. On the other hand, he really did need to get that book.
    Chaos reigned inside. Little bodies ran in every direction, forcing a soft warning woof from Avery. A body slammed into his legs and a sticky hand grabbed his for balance before running off again. Two old ladies tottered after the flailing bodies, one of them brandishing a cane.
    Darcy, in a flirty knee-length skirt and prim white blouse, was in heated conversation with a third lady who was around the same age as the other two. Throwing her hands up in the air, Darcy twirled away, clapped her hands, and in a singsong voice, herded the children into a side room like the pied piper.
    The cacophony of noise decreased. The three old ladies gathered together around a bin of books and whispered. He and Avery approached, the dog’s nails clacking on the marbled floor.
    “Ladies, I’m looking for a book, but I need to apply for a card first,” he said.
    A wizened face surrounded by artificial, orange-red hair tilted back to examine him. “You came to the right place. Take your hat off inside, boy.”
    Robbie whipped his ball cap off and ran fingers through his hair. He followed the orange halo toward the circulation desk, having to adjust his steps to pace her slow, mincing walk. He stood a good foot taller than the woman, but her spine was as straight as an iron pipe, her posture better than the teenagers