Page 34 of The Session

Evan nodded, then walked back another fifteen feet.

“Do you think I’ll be able to play baseball again?” he asked.

“No, it’s a terrible sport. It’s basically just golf for guys that like to chew tobacco and wear pajamas,” Mark replied.

Evan was sharp and got Mark’s sense of humor. He shook his head. “I don’t think football’s a better option for me.”

Mark looked back to make sure that his players weren’t murdering each other.

“No,” he replied. “You need to be a bit more stupid for that. To be honest with you, I’ve been watching you throw. Have you ever played tennis?”

Mark didn’t make the suggestion lightly. He had noticed that Evan had quick agility and fast responses. The other factor was that Evan was the most well-read and intelligent person in the family that Mark had met so far. He thought tennis could provide a good environment for Evan to mingle with kids who came from the kind of background where parents took their children’s education seriously. He could see Evan fitting in pretty well. The kid had a good sense of humor, was quick, and was the kind of boy tennis moms would be happy to have around their daughters.

“Aren’t there supposed to be two of you here?” a voice called from across the field.

Mark turned around and saw Kathy Adler, the principal of Georgia Academy. From the look on her face, she wasn’t in one of her better moods.

Mark gestured toward the two mothers sitting at the picnic table. “They’re helping.”

Adler glanced at them for a moment, then turned back to Mark, barely registering that the two women were paying zero attention to what was happening on the field.

“Do you have a moment, Mr. Greenley?” Adler asked.

Mark had realized in the past several weeks that anybody who called him by his last name usually wasn’t the bearer of good news.

He tossed the ball back to Evan. “I need you to go over there and referee,” Mark instructed. Evan nodded, then ran to the sideline.

“How can I help you?” Mark asked.

“Unfortunately, I’ve got some bad news. The trustees have decided that, for the time being, it’s not in our best interest to continue the contract with the athletic league,” Adler explained.

“We’ve paid through next year. You mean you won’t be renewing it?” Mark asked.

“I mean, after today, we’re no longer going to be able to make our facilities available. We’ll return the balance to the foundation.”

“I don’t understand. What happened?”

“It’s a trustee decision. I’m sorry. That’s really all I can say.”

“Is it about me? What if . . .” Mark thought it over. The words were hard for him to say. “What if I wasn’t part of the athletic foundation?”

It seemed pretty obvious to Mark. His name was still connected to the shooting, and some parent had made a connection and decided they didn’t want the school to be associated with him.

“That’s really not my decision to make,” Adler replied.

Mark pointed to the kids on the field behind him. “What about them?”

“I’m sorry. It’s unfortunate. If you want, I can help you reach out to the Big Brothers Big Sisters program. You can talk to the city, if you like, and the county,” Adler offered.

Mark stifled a laugh. “I’ve tried that. That’s why I created this in the first place. If it’s about me, there’s got to be another solution. I’ve got plenty of volunteers to run this. I can step aside.”

“It’s not my place to tell you what factors affected the decision.”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” He looked across the field and saw Talia enthusiastically waving to the team and shouting a position. “Let’s consider another option.”

“Like I said, this decision is really out of my hands.”

“Let me explain the option first,” Mark said. “What if tomorrow another nonprofit comes to you that I’m not attached to—and I mean, really, zero attachment—and makes a request to use the facilities? Would that work?”