Scott sat down under the tree and lit a Marlboro. He was cutting seventh-period p.e., but he didn’t care. It was a hot day, late in May. He’d get two hours of detention tomorrow, which meant he’d miss track practice, which was no big deal. He threw javelin, and sometimes ran the third leg of the 4x100 relay. The only meet left was the state qualifier. His chances of qualifying for state were between slim and none.
Scott looked at the traffic passing by on the freeway. About a quarter mile west of where he was sitting was the foot of the off-ramp leading to the main street of his home town. The road leading to the school campus intersected the main street (called Highland Road, for some reason that Scott didn’t know) a hundred feet or so from the end of the off-ramp.
Scott watched a cop car pass a truck on the far side of the freeway. He took a drag on the cigarette and took a look at the cloudless sky. After a while, he again saw a cop car go by, this time on the near side of the freeway, headed toward the Highland Road exit. Scott wondered if it was the same cop. He lay down in the grass and daydreamed about leaving this jerkwater town where he‘d lived nearly all his life.
“Rattlesnake’s gonna getcha, son.” The cop stood over Scott, who tried to hide his pack of Marlboros. “School ain’t out, is it?”
“Yeah, well, it might as well be,” said Scott. “I ain’t learning nothin.’”
“Yeah, that’s what they all say.” The cop, a state trooper, looked down. “Marlboros,” he said, eyeing the cigarettes. “Brother used to smoke them. Got emphysema. He quit--too late. Died last year.“
“Sorry.”
“Not your fault, boy.” The cop looked at the freeway. “Nice spot you got here. Saw you from the freeway. . . Take you back to school?”
“I guess. It’s almost the end of the day. I was planning to walk straight home after the bell rang.”
“What class you cuttin’?” asked the trooper.
“Gym,” said Scott. “I--” He decided not to tell the cop he was also planning to skip track practice. He heard the seventh-period bell ring. “Look, that was the bell. I ain’t got no homework. I can just walk on home. It’s not far.”
“Your teacher’s Marv Collins, right?”
“Mr. Collins, yeah.” Scott felt a bit nervous.
“He’s my ex-wife’s brother-in-law. Ain’t seen him in a coon’s age.” Scott and the cop started walking through the tall grass and bushes toward the police car, which was parked at the side of the road leading into the school. “I think we oughta pay him a visit.”
Five minutes later, Scott and the policeman were stepping into Mr. Collins’office.
“Harry, it’s been a while! Uh-oh, what’s going on?” The teacher looked at Scott.
“I think he thought a little time sittin’ under the tree alongside the freeway would do his body and soul a bit more good than your gym class.”
“The ‘weed tree’?” asked Mr. Collins.
“No, not that one,” Scott answered truthfully. The “weed tree” was just past a hole cut in the fence that was meant to keep unauthorized people and animals from wandering onto the freeway. Scott’s tree, on the other hand, was on school property, though out of sight from the main part of the campus.
“Scott, we’ll talk about this later,” said Mr. Collins. “Now, get suited up for track practice.”
Scott wondered if the cop would tell Mr. Collins that he was smoking when he was found--or that he was planning to go home after school and skip track practice. Probably. Scott didn’t like or trust the police.
“Where’s this ‘weed tree’ you mentioned?” Scott heard the trooper ask Mr. Collins.
“There’s a hole in the freeway fence at the east end of the football field. Kids sneak through it to the tree on the other side. We can’t see them unless we go all the way down there and roust them out. The highway department knows about it; I’ve told them myself.”
The cop whispered what must have been a dirty joke about the highway department; Scott heard Mr. Collins laugh guiltily a moment afterward.
Scott tossed the javelin a few dozen times, then joined the relay team to work on handing off the baton. Although he didn’t run very much, he was always good at taking and giving the baton. Unfortunately, some of the other runners needed some help, and Ms. Pierce, the girls’ p.e. teacher and the relays coach, had Scott demonstrate again and again how to take a baton and pass it on.
Mr. Collins called Scott over to his side. “Ms. Pierce! I need to talk to Scott. Why don’t you see if those runners learned anything from him?”
Collins turned to Scott. “You could be a teacher or coach, Scott. Those boys--and even some of the girl--listened to you pretty intensely. They like you. So do I.”
Scott said nothing.
“Next year, you’ll be a senior. Younger kids will really look up to you,” said Mr. Collins. “You have a lot of leadership potential, but you need to use it. You planning to go to college?”
“Nope,” Scott said. “I just want to get out of this hick town.”
“Do you see any colleges around here?”
“No. What’s that got to do with anything?”
“If you go to college, you’ll be out of this town.” Collins waited to see if anything was sinking in with Scott. “If you just sit on your butt under the tree watching the world go by on the freeway, you’ll be stuck here in a dead-end job at the gas station or tending bar at Mel’s the rest of your life. Even if you blow it in college, you’ll at least be away from this ‘hick town.’”
Scott had heard it all before, but he knew Collins was right--he had no future. “You running the summer school this year? I was thinking of taking that advanced algebra course Mr. Dixon had last year.”
“Ms. Pierce is teaching the course. The kids tell me she’s pretty good. She likes you a lot.” Collins looked at Ms. Pierce. “Ms. Pierce! Do you think those boys can hold onto the baton? Let’s see how much you and Scott were able to teach them. Let’s see them do a full lap.”
“Ms. Pierce, Mr. Collins says you’re teaching algebra this summer.”
“Yes,” said Ms. Pierce. “School starts right after the Fourth of July.”
“I’d like to take the advanced class.”
“It’s pretty intensive, like a college class. I think you’ll do well, though. See me at lunch tomorrow in Mr. Coble’s room. I’ll show you our textbooks and give you a registration packet. It’s all pretty simple--registration, that is.”
Scott took the course, did well enough on the math portion of his SAT to go to college, and eventually became a math and p.e. teacher at his old high school.