Six weeks.
This had been happening for six weeks.
"What started it?"
Cody rubbed his hands together.
"I bumped Trent in the cafeteria."
"That's it?"
"I had a tray. He backed into me. Chocolate milk got on his jacket."
Brian stared.
"He made me pay to have it cleaned."
"How much?"
"Forty dollars."
"And then?"
"I gave him forty."
Cody's voice grew quieter.
"Then he said it took too long. So there was interest."
Brian felt nauseated.
"What kind of interest?"
"Ten dollars a day."
"For what?"
Cody gave him a miserable look.
"For not paying fast enough."
"You already paid."
"I know."
Brian stood, walked three steps away, and returned because he needed movement to keep from punching a locker.
"Where did you get the money?"
"Lunch money."
"How much have they taken?"
"I don't know."
"Guess."
"Maybe two hundred."
Brian's eyes widened.
"Two hundred dollars?"
Cody nodded.
"Then I ran out."
The boy's hands began shaking.
"So Trent said I had to pay another way."
Brian did not want to ask.
He did anyway.
"What way?"
Cody stared at the floor.
"Hits."
Brian went still.
"What?"
"They call it interest."
Cody's voice became mechanical, like he was reciting something he'd tried desperately not to think about.
"If I owe ten dollars, Weston gets to hit me once. If I owe twenty, twice. If I'm late, Trent adds more."
Brian felt something cold settle behind his ribs.
"Where do they hit you?"
"Where people don't see."
"Your ribs."
Cody nodded.
"Thighs."
Another nod.
"The leg?"
"They kicked it Monday."
"Why?"
"I told them I wasn't paying anymore."
Brian turned away.
He pressed both hands against the nearest locker.
For twelve years he had told parents that football taught discipline, accountability, and brotherhood.
Meanwhile, two players wearing his program's logo had been using a freshman as a human payment schedule.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Cody's expression hardened with embarrassment.
"Because then I'm a snitch."
"You think I care what they call you?"
"They do."
"What does that mean?"
Cody's voice dropped.
"They said if I told anyone, they'd put me in the hospital."
Brian turned.
"They threatened to kill me."
That sentence changed everything.
Brian pulled out his phone.
"We're going to Principal Wallace. Then we're calling the police."
Cody lunged forward and grabbed his forearm.
"No."
"Cody."
"No!"
His panic was immediate.
"Please, Coach."
"We're past keeping secrets."
"Wallace won't do anything."
"Let me handle Wallace."
"You don't understand."
"I understand enough."
"No, you don't!"
Cody's voice echoed through the empty locker room.
He immediately looked frightened by his own volume.
Brian waited.
Cody swallowed hard.
"Last year, Trent broke Marcus Lee's nose."
Brian felt his stomach drop.
"Marcus?"
"He pushed him into the bathroom wall because Marcus wouldn't give him his AirPods."
"How do you know?"
"Marcus told me before he transferred."
Brian said nothing.
"He went to Wallace. His mom came to school. Trent said Marcus started it. Trent's dad brought a lawyer. Two weeks later, Marcus was gone."
Brian remembered.
The sudden transfer.
The vague explanation.
"Family relocation," Wallace had said.
Cody wiped his face.
"Everybody knows."
Brian lowered the phone.
"Knows what?"
"That if Trent does something, Wallace fixes it."