Chapter 5
I ran home carrying the complaint.
Mom was sitting at the kitchen table, sorting overdue bills.
When she saw my face, she stood immediately.
"Malik? What happened?"
I handed her the paper.
She read it.
Then read it again.
Her hands began shaking.
"They're accusing me of taking money?"
I nodded.
Arthur and Coach Harris had explained that foundation scholarships were allowed under the league's published rules, provided the assistance was properly documented and unrelated to recruiting violations.
Mom hadn't taken anything.
She hadn't even met the league officials before I joined.
But the complaint made it sound as though she had been selling my baseball future.
Mom covered her mouth.
"Oh, baby."
I couldn't hold back my tears.
"I'm sorry."
She looked shocked.
"For what?"
"For bringing all this trouble."
She grabbed my shoulders.
"Malik, listen to me."
I lowered my head.
"Look at me."
I did.
Her eyes were fierce.
"You did nothing wrong."
"But if I hadn't thrown that ball—"
"No."
She pulled me into her arms.
"Your father spent his whole life fighting to give you choices. I will not let somebody make you ashamed of having talent."
I cried against her shoulder.
For years, I had watched her struggle.
I thought being a good son meant causing no problems.
Now I was learning something different.
Sometimes standing up for yourself created problems.
That didn't mean you were wrong.
The following morning, Arthur arrived with a woman named Rebecca Ellis.
She was an attorney who volunteered with his foundation.
She wore a dark blue suit and carried a thick notebook.
Mom looked nervous.
"I can't afford a lawyer."
Rebecca smiled.
"You won't be paying me. Arthur asked whether I could help you understand the process."
She sat across from us.
Then she explained that the complaint appeared to be based on rumors rather than evidence.
The foundation could document every expense.
There were receipts for equipment, transportation, and coaching.
The program followed the same rules for every player.
"We're asking for a formal dismissal," she said.
I leaned forward.
"Can I play in the tournament?"
Rebecca hesitated.
"The league hasn't suspended you. But Westbridge is refusing to approve your participation in events it hosts while the complaint is pending."
My stomach sank.
The regional development tournament was only three weeks away.
It was supposed to be my first chance to play in a real competition.
"What if they don't approve me?"
Arthur answered.
"Then we challenge the decision through the proper process."
I stared at him.
"Why are you doing all this?"
He looked surprised.
"Because you deserve a fair opportunity."
I shook my head.
"You barely know me."
Arthur smiled sadly.
"I knew your father."
"But I'm not him."
For a moment, he said nothing.
Then he leaned forward.
"You're right."
His voice softened.
"And that's something I need to remember."
I looked up.
"I don't want people helping me just because Dad was good at baseball."
Arthur nodded.
"Then let me make something clear. Your father is the reason I looked twice. Your character and your ability are why I stayed."
I felt my throat tighten.
He continued.
"If you decided tomorrow that you wanted to become a doctor instead of a pitcher, I would still want you to have a good education."
I blinked away tears.
That was the first time I truly trusted him.
Later that week, the foundation arranged a meeting with Westbridge's athletic director.
Mom, Rebecca, Arthur, and I attended.
Coach Marcus was already waiting.
Tyler sat beside him.
I was surprised to see Tyler there.
He looked uncomfortable.
His father, Richard Brooks, sat on the other side of the table.
Richard was a wealthy businessman who donated money to Westbridge athletics.
I'd seen his name on a plaque near the stadium entrance.
The athletic director, Dr. Howard, began the meeting.
"We're here to resolve concerns about player eligibility and fair participation."
Rebecca placed documents in front of him.
"Malik's age has been verified. The foundation assistance has been documented. We would like to know what evidence supports the remaining allegations."
Coach Marcus folded his arms.
"We've received reports."
Rebecca looked at him.
"From whom?"
He glanced toward Tyler.
Tyler stared at the table.
Richard spoke.
"This is getting blown out of proportion."
I looked at him.
His expensive watch caught the light.
He continued.
"My son has worked for years to earn his opportunities. Suddenly, some unknown kid appears and everyone acts like he's the future of baseball."
Arthur leaned forward.
"Nobody is taking away your son's work."
Richard scoffed.
"Then why is my son being pushed aside?"
I stared at him.
For the first time, I understood.
They weren't afraid I had cheated.
They were afraid I might be good.
Coach Marcus cleared his throat.
"Tyler is our starting pitcher. He's earned that position."
Arthur nodded.
"Then let him compete fairly."
Richard's jaw tightened.
"Easy for you to say."
Rebecca interrupted.
"We're not asking for Tyler's position. We're asking that false allegations against Malik be corrected."
Dr. Howard turned toward Coach Marcus.
"Marcus, do you have evidence of improper payments?"
The coach hesitated.
"I received information."
"From whom?"
Another pause.
Richard leaned forward.
"Perhaps we should discuss this privately."
Dr. Howard's face hardened.
"No. You raised a serious accusation against a child and his mother."
The room fell silent.
Then Tyler suddenly spoke.
"I posted about his age."
Everyone turned.
Richard stared at his son.
"Tyler."
Tyler swallowed.
"I thought he was lying."
I looked at him.
"You didn't know me."
He avoided my eyes.
Richard spoke sharply.
"That's enough."
But Tyler continued.
"Coach told me there were questions about his documents."
Coach Marcus stiffened.
I looked at the coach.
"Did you tell him I was seventeen?"
He said nothing.
I felt my anger rising.
"You knew my dad. You knew my mother. You knew how old I was."
Coach Marcus looked away.
Richard slammed his hand onto the table.
"This meeting is over."
Arthur remained seated.
"No, Richard. It isn't."
He removed a worn folder from his briefcase.
Coach Marcus went pale.
Arthur laid it on the table.
"This is the original report from David Johnson's injury."
I stared at him.
He had never shown me the full report before.
Arthur opened it.
"Marcus, you told everyone David injured himself during private training."
The coach swallowed.
Arthur pointed to a signature.
"But your name appears here as the person supervising the session."
Richard frowned.
"What does that have to do with my son?"
Arthur looked at him.
"Nothing. Unless you're using your money to help Marcus hide a pattern of misconduct."
Coach Marcus stood abruptly.
"That's enough!"
Arthur didn't move.
He looked directly at the coach.
"Then answer the question."
The room was silent.
Finally, Arthur said, "Why have you spent so much energy trying to keep David Johnson's son away from a baseball field?"
Coach Marcus stared at me.
And for one brief moment, I saw something in his face that frightened me.
Not anger.
Fear.
Then Dr. Howard spoke.
"Marcus, until we establish the facts, I'm placing you on administrative leave from coaching."
Tyler gasped.
Richard stood.
"You can't do that!"
Dr. Howard didn't look away.
"I just did."
My heart raced.
It was the first time I had ever seen someone powerful refuse to bend for Tyler's family.
But as we left the meeting, Richard caught up with us outside.
He stopped directly in front of my mother.
"You think you've won something?"
Mom moved closer to me.
"We're just protecting our son."
Richard gave a cold smile.
"Then you should remember who owns the building where you live."
My blood turned cold.
Our apartment building.
May you like
His company owned it.
And suddenly, baseball wasn't the only thing we could lose.
