Free Angry Management by Chris Crutcher Page B

recorder.
    “You were serious.”
    “Serious as AIDS,” he says as she reaches over and hits the stop button, then returns the recorder to her backpack. “A real journalist uses pen and paper anyway.”
    “Jeez.” She drags out her notebook, closes her eyes a moment, and shakes her head.
    “Wondering why you took this assignment?” Trey says.
    “We’ll see. What made you turn out for football in the first place?”
    “Keep myself out of juvy.”
    “Really.”
    “Yup,” Trey says. “Judge told my grandma if I’d turn out for football he’d hold off giving me a sentence. If I stayed with it a year, he’d drop the charges.”
    “You stayed with it four.”
    “I did. Actually I was going to take the sentence, butmy grandma slapped me so hard on the side of the head when I said it, I thought I heard church bells. Judge liked that. He smiled and said, ‘You sure?’”
    “What did you do to be standing before a judge in the first place?”
    Trey smiles. “Let’s just say I was in possession of some things I couldn’t prove were mine.”
    “Like?”
    “Things I couldn’t prove were mine.”
    Montana nods and jots that down. Actually this could be fun; he makes her a bit uncomfortable. Bad boys. Watch out for bad boys. “So I know all the ESPN answers, and I’m looking for a different article than that; you know, in depth.”
    Trey smiles again, and Montana shifts in her seat. “In depth is usually a quarterback’s interview,” he says. “But let’s give ’er a shot.”
    “How do you feel about the fact that football players are generally treated like gods in this school, that they get away with things the general population doesn’t?”
    “I like it.”
    “Excuse me?”
    “I’m a football player. I like it.”
    That’s the problem with asking a question you don’t think you’ll get an answer to. Dr. Conroy has warnedher students about that. “So you agree? Football players get special privileges?”
    Trey feigns confusion. “Oh, I thought you were telling me about some new policy.”
    “No, I was stating the obvious and asking what you think about it.”
    “Isn’t that like, a trick question?”
    “No, it’s not a trick question—”
    “I mean, if you say something you think is ‘obviously true,’ but it’s not obviously true to me, doesn’t that give you an advantage, like to get my ass in a sling?”
    “It isn’t obviously true to you that football players get special treatment when it comes to discipline and rule breaking?”
    “I wouldn’t know. I stay away from as much discipline as I can. Truth is, by the time they get enough goods on me to drag my ass to the office, there’s not a lot of reasonable doubt. What’s this article gonna be about, anyway?”
    Montana lays her pen down on the table in exasperation. “I don’t know. It seems to be taking off on me.”
    Trey nods toward the pen. “That mean we’re taking a break?”
    “For a minute. I have to gather my thoughts.”
    Trey picks up the pen and notebook. “I been thinking I might like this school paper thing. Lemme try it from your side.”
    “Actually, I’m asking the questions.”
    “Yeah, but you’re taking a break. Weren’t you a cheerleader back when I played JV, like when we were freshmen?”
    Montana nods. “Yes, Trey, I was a cheerleader.”
    “You didn’t get elected cheerleader wearing all that black shit, and all the inserts. ”
    “You mean my piercings?”
    “Yeah,” he says. “Your piercings. In fact we had you on the fast track. Great legs, better…uh…torso, eight and a half face, maybe three percent body fat.”
    “The fast track to what?”
    “Feminine superstardom,” Trey says. “But you veered off on us. In a couple of simple sentences, so my fourth-grade level readers can understand, can you tell us why?”
    “I can tell you in one simple sentence. Because you guys had me on the fast track.”
    “Is it true you have a tattoo on your abs of a bird pulling a worm