Prompt Twenty-Two

Guidance

(Mid-Season Two)

Coach Thomas Lawrence didn't know what to do. He could throw a ball, bench over two hundred pounds, sub a class, and - to the surprise of most - was rather excellent at distinguishing cheeses.

But listening to a teenage boy cry in an empty locker room made him pause.

Lake had never been particularly wimpy. He was too scraggly for contact sports but he'd done an okay job in Little League. He'd always gotten back up if he fell, didn't quit. He was a decent kid. He'd been in more trouble lately than he'd ever been, but Coach Lawrence remembered high school. Things changed, came up.

He'd been sick for a while but apparently was doing better. Coach was glad for that. But people didn't usually sit around crying for no reason. How did one approach it? He wasn't particularly close to Lake and he didn't want to embarrass the kid. He wished Strickler hadn't had that family emergency and left out of the blue.

Coach Lawrence waited until the pained sounds had slowed before coughing loudly. The crying stopped and when he stepped out around the lockers - hopefully looking like he'd just been passing through - he paused. Jim had his face turned away. "Hey Lake. Running a little late?"

"Uh, yeah, sorry Coach." Jim pulled up the neck of his shirt and surreptitiously wiped his eyes. The hem of his shirt lifted a little and bruises became visible. Bright ones, all up his side.

Coach Lawrence's act dropped. "Lake, what happened to you!?" Jim started, dropping the shirt. The coach strode forward and sat on the bench beside him. "You're beat up six ways to Sunday kid." He gestured to another bruise on Jim's arm, one that was shaped uncannily like a balled up fist. It had the horrible coloration of one that was still healing, the sickly yellow atop purple. Another was visible along his upper arm, but before he could get a good look the sleeve covered it.

Jim fumbled for words. "I uh..."

Coach Lawrence planted a fist on the bench. "Who did this Lake? Do you need a hospital? I can get CPS if it's-"

Jim's jaw dropped. "You don't...you don't think my mom did this, do you!?"

Coach bit his tongue. "...I don't know who did it Lake. But you're hurt. Someone has been beating on you." Jim glared at him but Coach Lawrence glared back. "I'm not saying it's your Mom!" He paused and felt nauseous and livid all at once. "Oh Lake...it wasn't Strickler, was it? I knew he was visiting your house, but-"

"Wha-? No! I'm not being abused Coach! I know what it looks like, but I'm not! My illness makes me bruise a lot easier, and I've started...taking Krav Maga. For self defense." Jim crossed his arms. "Training isn't easy, but it's the best way to learn. I'm just aching a lot. My ibuprofen wore off so…it just got to be a lot."

Coach Lawrence blinked. That would explain the kid's sudden athleticism. And he used to get pretty beat up in wrestling practice. And he'd heard of diseases that made people bruise or bleed easy, even with as much care as possible. But something about Jim didn't sound honest. He peered at Jim suspiciously. "You're not covering for someone, are you? Because I don't care what anyone says kid, you never deserve to get hit. Anyone that lays a hand on you ain't your friend. Ever. I've got a couple contacts with CPS. Whatever is going on, you can be sure you'll be safe if you need to get out of a situation. I'll personally make certain of it."

Jim's irritation faded a little. "No, I'm not covering. But that's...really nice of you to say Coach." He fiddled with the hem of his shirt. "Do you see a lot of cases like that? Where teens are getting…hurt?"

"A few a year." Coach Lawrence stood up uncertainly. "Lake, you swear those marks are from Krav Maga training? And your illness?"

"Yes, these marks are from training." Jim's voice was firm. "Tobes will vouch for me."

"It's okay kid, I believe you." Coach rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Sorry Lake. It's just once you've had kids come in all beat up and thinking they deserved it...it drives you crazy. Because nobody deserves that, all right? If something changes and you need to get help, I want you to let me know. You call, text, heck, send an SOS by smoke signal."

Jim nodded. "Yes sir. I'm just sore. I should be back at it soon."

How sore did a kid have to be to make him cry? Coach Lawrence gave him a hesitant pat on the shoulder. "Well...sit out of gym the next couple of days. If you're training like that I'm sure you're meeting your exercise needs."

"Thanks Coach." Jim stood up, shouldering his book bag. "I mean it. It's nice to know you care."

Coach Lawrence grunted. "I've been a coach for twenty years. You don't do this kind of job and put up with guff from teens if you don't care about kids at least a little." Jim smiled and left the locker room. Feeling a little better, Coach still took out his phone and added Jim's name to a list of kids to keep an eye on. He joined seventeen others that claimed they were fine, but warranted checking in on.

Just to be safe.

End of Prompt Twenty-Two

This would take place right after Jim came out of the Darklands, so much of the bruising would have come from there, not his actual training. I always hated in the show how the teachers never seemed to notice how much Jim would have been acting differently from normal. I suppose this is just a snippet to explore that. I like the idea that the teachers must have wondered and cared, but I guess that wasn't something that made it to the screen. Just one of the problems of almost being old enough to be some of the characters' parent.