“Well, OK, Kirk – guess I’ll live through it, though I may be singing soprano for a day or two,” Derek joked, as color slowly returned to his face. “It’s just that your kick was the second I received in the last three minutes of the game – that brute #18 on your team’s been ripping at my suit, scratching me, and finally nailed my gonads just moments before you joined the game. Guess I’m a little pissed at your team right now.”
“18 – that’s Ron Forrester. He’s a mean bastard – and that’s just the way he treats people on his own team! I don’t want to even think how nasty he is to opponents. I’m sorry he did that to you. Please believe me when I tell you most of the guys at Mercer Prep are pretty cool, and really nice. But Ron…well, he’s always ticked about something. We call him “TB” behind his back – Time Bomb, because we’re always waiting for him to go off over some little thing.” Kirk filled the boys in on a couple of incidents that had recently occurred involving the Forrester kid, then quietly apologized to the three Hardwood athletes on behalf of his other teammates for any rough play or fouls Forrester had administered. Kirk admitted this was his first season on the polo team, and he was eager to learn the finer points of the game. But Forrester and his buddies had little time for newbies, and offered him few pointers. “Hey,” Kirk said to Derek, “you have some amazing moves. Would it be OK if I e-mailed you with a couple questions – you know, sort of picked your brain once in a while?”
Derek, though still in some discomfort, felt flattered by Kirk’s request, and the boys exchanged e-mail addresses and even cell numbers before returning to their respective team bleachers. Soon, the pool deck was clear – the Mercer team heading toward the “Visitors” locker room, and the Hornets toward their own locker room. But Derek paused for a few moments to admire David Sanderson’s practice dives over in the diving well. “That guy is amazing,” he said to himself as the diver spun twice and knifed cleanly into the water with barely a splash. “And such a nice guy, too,” he thought to himself. David’s room was just around the corner from the room Derek and Jake shared, so the boys knew each other fairly well from their constant interaction in both the dorm and pool.
Glancing into the stands once more as he pushed the locker room door open, Derek was surprised to still see the somewhat elderly Dr. Witherspoon, who was certainly in his 70s, seated in the upper row of seats. He had been there the entire game – most unusual for a headmaster. In fact, in the three years Derek had been on the water polo team, he could swear the previous headmaster had never attended one of their games. Of course, Dr. Marsh had been too busy ‘cooking the books’ to attend an insignificant home water polo match, Derek mused. After it was discovered that Marsh had stolen more than two million dollars from the academy’s endowment, he had been fired and jailed on the same day only a few weeks ago. Dr. Witherspoon had been a sudden replacement, though in a school Hardwood’s size, he was instantly recognizable. But the monetary scandal had taken it’s toll on the school – two members of the Board of Trustees had also been indicted, as had the school’s on-site physician – all had been part of some ‘get-rich’ pyramid scheme, and now all were charged with numerous criminal counts. The remaining Trustees found Dr. Witherspoon to be a gift from the heavens – he had recently retired from a medical college in New York, and had agreed to serve as both headmaster and school physician until full-time replacements could be secured.
Back in their dorm after a quick dinner, Derek was talking with Jake about their study plans for an upcoming geography exam, when they were interrupted by a knock on the door. “Come in,” Derek yelled, thinking it was one of the boys from down the hall. He was astonished to look up and find Dr. Witherspoon entering the room. Both Jake and Derek quickly jumped off their beds where they’d been lounging and did their best to be presentable to the headmaster – literally, the last person on earth either had expected. Derek was in a pair of white briefs, and Jake wore a pair of old, somewhat ragged striped boxers. Both boys had tossed their sweatpants on the floor in the far corner, assuming undies would be sufficient attire for studying, as usual. Now, both stood quietly, politely, silently wishing they hadn’t been so quick to strip down.
Finally, Jake coughed slightly and said, “Um, Dr. Witherspoon, sir, we, we weren’t expecting any visitors tonight. If you could give us just a moment, we can pull on some pants and shirts and…”
But Dr. Witherspoon waved his protestations aside, saying, “Relax, boys. This isn’t an official visit or room inspection.” Glancing quickly around the dorm with a critical eye – piles of dirty clothes, books and papers strewn haphazardly about, a poster half falling off the wall, used (but still usable) underwear tossed here and there – Dr. Witherspoon sharply added, “Though perhaps a room inspection would not be such a bad idea in the very near future, if you get my point.” Both boys, still standing at attention, nodded sheepishly. Dr. Witherspoon, slightly stooped with age, slowly stepped further into their room and quietly closed the door behind him. “Actually, the reason I am here is to check on you, Mr. Weathers,” he stated as he nodded toward Derek.
“Me, sir?” Derek replied, unable to imagine why the older gentleman would have made such a statement, and shocked the old geezer even knew his name. “I…I don’t understand,” Derek continued, nervously. “Did…did I do something wrong, sir? Am I in trouble?”
Dr. Witherspoon smiled, suddenly realizing the predicament the boys found themselves in – the most powerful authority figure on campus, the man who could make or break anyone he chose, had stepped into the boys’ only sanctum of privacy, and they were terrified that somehow, somewhere, sometime, they had done something for which swift and sure punishment had finally arrived. “No, no lad – no trouble. You misunderstand the reason for my visit. I am here as school physician, not headmaster. I would like to examine your testicles.”
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