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Good Enough/Crossroads--The Assault

Coach Salt had returned Friday, but Chance was positive that he was mentally absent. His halfhearted instruction and bleary eyes hadn't gone unnoticed by the majority of the class. He called the class to gather before him and Chance noticed that he had a slightly dazed expression.

"So, uh..." Coach Salt said, looking down at his clipboard: he actually had two in his paws. "Everyone here?" He did a cursory glance at the crowd and nodded. "Good," he murmured to himself. "So, we'll start the... the fitness tests on Monday so we'll just"--he coughed--"practice for it."

"Coach, you okay?" someone asked.

"Yeah, doggy, I'm fine."

Chance frowned and looked up at Zack who was watching the coach intently. Chance was sure that the same confusion was going through Zack's mind as well. They had never known the coach to refer to any of his students as "doggy". But before anyone could bring it up--and many of the students began to murmur at the occurrence--Coach Salt continued to speak.

"So, the fitness tests. I think we'll work on the mile. Yeah, that'll do," the coach grumbled to himself. "So, if y'all are ready let's go on out to the... the track."

The class watched as the coach started to walk in a stilted, wobbly gait. As the coach moved past Chance, a scent worked its way into Chance's nose. Chance recoiled nervously, pausing to consider if the smell was what Chance thought it was. The smell was subtle, subdued, but Chance was almost positive he had caught a whiff of whiskey. Zack stopped following the crowd and looked back, waving Chance over.

"Come on, Charlie. We gotta do the mile."

"Zack, something's not right," Chance stated. "What's up with Coach Salt?"

"He might still be sick," Zack insisted, looking back nervously as the class left the gymnasium. "Come on, we don't wanna get in trouble."

"Zack, I'm serious," Chance hissed, his voice low. He and Zack resumed following the rest of the class. "What if he's drunk?"

"He's been sick all week. It makes sense if he's a little out of it," Zack answered.

"He might've been hungover!" Chance suggested. "I mean, what's in his water bottle? What if it's liquor?"

"What if it's water?" Zack countered. "Why are you so convinced he's drunk?"

"Why are you so convinced he isn't?"

"Where's the proof?"

"So you don't believe me?"

Zack didn't immediately reply, carefully considering his response. "Charlie, you know I trust you, but I don't see how he could be drunk and none of us would notice."

Chance was going to argue, but they'd arrived at the track and the coach took a swig from the metallic-pink water bottle he carried. Chance sniffed the air, but all he could really smell was outdoors--just the smell of the October air.

"Alright, let's line up at the line," Coach Salt ordered.

They lined up, but Coach Salt reached out, his paw touching Chance's shoulder.

"Hold on, Argent," Coach Salt said. "You wanna be my assistant today? I'll give you full marks."

"Oh... okay," Chance said nervously. The coach pushed one of his clipboards into Chance's paws. The paper listed each student in the class in a chart, with a space to write in each student's time.

Then, the coach handed over a stopwatch, zeroed out and ready to be used.

"Just help me keep track of everyone's time. I'll be keeping track too," the coach said, showing the second clipboard with an identical paper and another stopwatch ready.

"R-right. Okay," Chance said.

There was no mistaking it this time; he definitely could smell the whiskey on the coach's breath.

---

"Charlie, seriously?" Zack huffed as they walked away from the gymnasium. "I thought we went over this already."

"Zack, I'm being serious! I could smell it on his breath! I could smell it in his water bottle!" Chance insisted. "I promise you, he's probably in his office drunk. Or passed out at his desk. Or knocking back shots."

"Or he's putting grades into his computer," Zack reasoned and Chance could hear the irritation in the jackal's voice. "You're being paranoid! I mean, honestly, you could really get him fired for spreading rumors like that!"

Chance huffed and said nothing more as they entered the cafeteria. They got their lunches from the line in silence and when they sat down at their usual table, the silence seemed to have become palpable. Jamie and Brandon looked over in confusion and Chance was sure that they'd scooted away from Zack, but it was actually Lonny who spoke, his innocent voice somehow easing the tension that the pair had brought with them.

"So, how's it going?" Lonny asked kindly.

Zack took a large, almost savage bite of his apple, chewing it irritably while Chance answered, "It's going fine. Just... having a bit of an argument."

"A lover's spat?" Jamie asked teasingly.

"No, it's not a 'spat'," Chance scoffed.

"So you guys are still in love?" Brandon offered.

"Madly," Zack grumbled sarcastically, punctuating the word with another large bite of apple.

Chance rolled his eyes. "So, what's new with you guys? Got any plans for this weekend?"

"Yeah, I'm doing a photoshoot," Brandon said excitedly, "for the art show."

"I didn't know there were photos in the art show," Chance admitted.

"Yeah, the art show is photos, drawings, paintings--all kinds of artistic expression. I'm going to have my sister do this kind of duality thing. I'm going to have her dress all Goth and evil, then she'll be dressed in bright white. I'm doing to photo it together to make it seem like she's standing back-to-back with herself."

"Isn't the theme 'Paradise'?" Jamie asked, confused.

"How do you know that? You're not even going to be in the show!"

"As a top-notch journalist, it's my job to have my paws on every bit of news and event in this school," Jamie explained. "So, what's the 'paradise' in your picture? It sounds like chaos."

"The paradise in it is that no matter how dark something is, there's always light," Brandon explained. "Things may be dark, but no matter what, there's always a light to reach for. And when you reach that light, it becomes your paradise because you can appreciate even more after coming through the darkness."

"Where'd you steal that from?" Lonny asked.

"So," Brandon said, turning to Chance. "What're you going to do for the art show?"

Chance was sure his attempt to dodge Lonny's question hadn't gone unnoticed. "Actually, Zack and I were going to collaborate on a piece. We were going to go over some ideas this weekend." Chance perked up and reached into his pocket. "I saw some stuff online that gave me some really good ideas. I just...need to..." Chance frowned and checked his other pocket.

"What's wrong?" Zack asked worriedly, seeing Chance's rapidly change in disposition. "Charlie?"

"My phone's gone. I had some stuff saved on my phone that I wanted to show you but..." He trailed off and dug into his backpack fretfully. He was about to dump its contents onto the table but Zack stopped him, seizing the backpack and setting it on the floor. Zack pulled out his own cell phone and Chance watched him dial and call.

They waited for a minute that seemed uncomfortably long. But there was no ringing, no sound of vibration. Chance waited to hear that obnoxious rock ballad that he'd used as his ringtone since he'd gotten the phone but there was nothing.

"Did you even have it when you left the house today?" Zack wondered when the call went to voicemail.

"Yes because my mom texted me during homeroom," Chance answered.

"Maybe you left it in the locker room."

"Well, no because it would've been in my pants pocket in my locker."

"So maybe it fell out," Zack reasoned. "Just go check."

Chance shifted nervously in his seat. "I'll go get it after school."

"Charlie, just go get it," Zack said. Chance grimaced. "Or I could if it bothers you so much."

Chance sighed. "I'll go get it."

"Do you want me to go with you?" Zack offered.

Chance considered it. "No, I'll be fine. In and out like a drive-thru. Be right back."

---

"Hello?" Chance called into the empty gymnasium. There was no reply. The coach's office door was closed and there didn't appear to be anyone around.

Might be out doing the mile with another class, Chance reasoned.

Good; he didn't want to run into Coach Salt right now.

He made his way across the gym and into the locker room, pulling the door open quickly and slipping inside. Indeed, there the device was on the floor and Chance sighed deeply. The screen was cracked all to hell--he must've dropped it for it to be shattered like this. Pocketing the device (and trying to think of the best way to present the problem to his father), Chance made his way out of the locker room and was on his way out when he heard someone call out to him.

He stopped and looked over--the coach's office door was open now and the light was on. There, seated behind the desk and looking right at him was Coach Salt, a weird smirk across his face.

"What're you doin' in here, Argent?" the coach wondered. "Come looking for something?"

"I just misplaced my--"

"Hey, come in," the coach said. "I wanna talk to you."

"I really should get back to--"

"Won't take but a minute."

Chance shifted nervously before stepping into the room. It was small, almost claustrophobic, especially with the messy desk in the center of the room and two folding chairs in front of it. But what drew Chance's attention was the mostly-empty bottle of dark whiskey that the coach had attempted to hide behind a computer monitor on his desk.

The coach stood and walked around the desk. Chance fought the urge to back away and out of the room as the coach moved to stand in front of his desk, still smirking in that almost sinister way.

"You know... I think you've gotten better in class," the coach stated.

"Oh... thank you," Chance said, swallowing thickly.

"Yeah, you don't look as thin as you used to," Salt continued, looking him over darkly. "You put on some weight." Chance absentmindedly inched backward and the coach moved closer. "Kinda cute."

"I have to--Hey!"

It had happened so quickly, faster than Chance could react to. Salt's darted out and grabbed Chance's chin, lifting it upward to lock their lips together. As his mind raced, Chance attempted to push against the husky's bulk, but the coach's heavy, powerful grip kept him close with only one arm. The other had reached downward, cupping his rear roughly.

When the coach pulled back for a breath, Chance managed to squirm away and was about to rush off when he felt the coach grab his shirt. The fabric started to rip, but the coach's grip moved quickly from his shirt to his arm, pulling him in once more. Chance moved his head away from the coach, trying to back away as he let out a shout.

"LET GO!" he bellowed. "GET OFF!"

They tumbled downward, the coach hovering over him in a predatory way with those heavy paws starting to pull at his shirt once more.

"HELP!" Chance screamed over the sound of tearing fabric. Tears welled up in Chance's eyes. He's gonna... He's trying to--

Suddenly, the coach was knocked away roughly and Chance scrambled up to his feet, but he soon found himself being pulled again.

THWACK!

A heavy thud echoed in the office and out the door into the gym. As Chance's mind started to process what he saw, he heard a worried and familiar voice speak to him, a relaxing sound to his panicked senses.

"Charlie, are you okay?" Zack Bailey questioned, just as panicked as Chance felt. "Did he hurt you?"

"I... No," Chance managed to say, his breathing heavy and tears still in his eyes. "He was going to... Z-Zack..."

"Shh, it's okay, I'm here," Zack said, pulling him into a hug. Chance let himself cry into Zack's shoulder. "I'm here."

---

The phone rang in his cubicle and David picked it up automatically, answering in his practiced monotone.

"This is David at Infurance. How may I help you?"

"Is this David Argent, Charles Argent's father?"

David scowled. "Yes, who is this?"

"This is Principal McLawhorn," the voice on the other side answered. "We've had an incident at the school and we need you to come immediately. Your son Charles--"

"Is he in trouble? What'd he do?" David asked, rubbing his temple.

"No, your son was assaulted," McLawhorn explained. David's heart sank as he heard those words. "We've already called the police and they're on their way, but we need you here as well. The situation is extremely serious and--"

"I'm on my way," David said. "But can you tell me what happened? Who attacked him? They're being arrested, aren't they?"

"Yes, Mr. Argent, they'll be arrested and jailed," McLawhorn assured him. "I'll explain the entire situation when you get here but the short version is that your son was almost... almost sexually assaulted on campus."

"He was raped?" David breathed in disbelief. Then, all at once, rage ran through his blood, through every nerve and seeped into every bit of fur as his hackles stood on end. "And you all let it happen?!" he yelled into the phone.

"Sir, please, we didn't allow it! We'd never allow our students to be--"

"I'm on my way and he better be there when I get there! He better be okay!"

David slammed the phone back down onto the receiver and would've taken a brief second to calm himself but a new voice behind him made him stiffen. There was no mistaking the voice of his boss, his "superior".

"Is there any reason why you're screaming at work?" Mr. Eldridge questioned in a frown, standing at the cubicle.

"I need to go," David said, flinging his papers haphazardly into a briefcase. "I'll finish the reports at home."

"Not so fast, you need to finish your work before you leave. I need those reports--"

"Something happened at my son's school and I'm going," David said, rising from his desk. "Please move, Mr. Eldridge."

"I'm sure he's fine. I need you to finish that work tonight," Eldridge countered.

"I'm going," David hissed in a voice of barely restrained fury. "Someone else can finish it. This is important."

"If you leave right now, you're fired! Send your wife to--!"

David dropped his briefcase and pushed Eldridge out of his way. Eldridge tumbled backward, hitting another cubicle wall behind him. David was absently aware of his coworkers watching the altercation. Eldridge stumbled up to his feet and looked about to swing a fist, but seemed to think better of it as he watched David pick up his briefcase.

"You know what, leave your work badge," Eldridge snarled. "You're fired. If you come back here, I'll have you arrested for trespassing. Get the hell out of my building."

David unlatched the badge from his waist and tossed it over. "You listen to me right now. I don't give a fuck about this job when my son's in danger. He'll always come first over your pettiness."

"Some father you are when you'll lose your job. How're you going to be support him when you're broke?" Eldridge sneered.

David threw his briefcase over and felt a bit of satisfaction as it hit Eldridge's snout. The briefcase snapped open and fell to the floor, its contents spilling out. Eldridge stumbled but quickly caught himself. "I'm twice the father with one than you'll ever be with three. My son needs me and I'm going. That's what you do when you're a father."

David stomped out and he knew in the back of his mind he might have acted overly impertinent. But right now... He could see Chance's face in his mind, the teen's expression contorted into pain and fear.

Right now, his son needed him and that was all that mattered. And heaven help anyone foolhardy enough to get in the way.