Page 92 of Did You See Evie

“You knew Amber and her friends were messaging boys online,” I say.

“Yes. And all I wanted to do was address it. I hurried to the school, hoping I’d show up before whatever creep my daughter was messaging, but when I got there, the only person outside was Evie.” She cuts her eyes to the left, staring at the scared girl between us. “At first, I was relieved. I thought maybe I’d misunderstood the messages, and it wasn’t Amber after all, but then Evie started crying. Started whining about how my daughter and her friends were bullying her. That they were messaging boys and using her name to do it. Everything I’d been trying to avoid didn’t matter, because Evie already knew everything. My daughter’s reputation would be destroyed. I was so angry. The next thing I know, I’d swung at Evie, and she was on the ground.”

Picturing the moment makes me grind my teeth in anger. Melinda, a grown woman with all the comfort and security in the world, putting her hands on a vulnerable and scared child. It’s not right. The power imbalance isn’t fair, and it brings me back to my own childhood, when my father would take out his frustration on me. Useless violence leading to even more mistakes.

“This isn’t just about Evie,” I say. Melinda looks at me with confusion. “You did this because of me.”

“What do you mean?”

I bend down, sifting through the cardboard box again. I retrieve the picture I’d found earlier. The one of Melinda when she was a young girl, likely Amber and Evie’s age. She’s standing in front of a Christmas tree, holding an overstuffed stocking in her hands. An older sister towers over to the left, and her mother stands on the other side, her arm over her shoulders.

Melinda’s father is also in the picture, although I remember him differently.

“Coach Phillips was your father,” I say, holding up the picture for her to see.

“It says a lot about you, doesn’t it?” she says. “My daughter has been on your team for two years, and you didn’t even recognize me. I started going by my middle name years ago, not that you knew that. Dad spent all his time with you. He was hardly ever around my sister and me.”

Coach Phillips talked about his family, but they were already adults by the time I moved in with him. He had pictures of his daughters around his house, but they were all pictures from childhood. School dances and birthdays and graduations. I never even saw his daughters after Coach Phillips’ funeral. The girl in this photo is completely different from the woman in her forties standing in front of me.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” I ask her, trying to understand how any of this relates to what’s happening with Evie.

“There wasn’t any point,” she says. “I recognized you straight away. Of course, I did. My sister and I used to crack jokes about Dad and his little charity case.”

Even though I’m an adult, those words sting. I never want to be considered charity. Not then. Not now.

“Your father was a great man,” I say. “He changed my life.”

“He changed mine, too. You know, I hardly saw him after my parents divorced? It felt like Mom was raising us by herself half the time.”

“Divorce is hard?—”

“My parents splitting up never bothered me. My father had written me off long before then.”

“What do you mean?”

“All he ever cared about was basketball. It was more important than anything else. My sister and I were never good, so he didn’t have time for us.”

I can’t believe Coach Phillips’ motivations are that simple. Yes, the man loved sports, but there was more to him than that. He didn’t just care about me because I was good. He took me under his wing because it was the right thing to do.

Then I remember all the times he talked to me about his strained relationship with his kids. Maybe there is some truth to what Melinda is saying. Maybe he knew he didn’t give enough to his own children, and that’s why he poured so much into me.

“You’ve resented me all this time?” I say, looking between Melinda and Evie. “Are you saying you kidnapped Evie to get back at me?”

“Of course not. I already told you, things spiraled too fast.” She pauses. “I was hoping if some of the girls were outside unsupervised, I could snap a picture and send it to Mr. Lake. Maybe that would finally be enough to get you fired.”

Coach Reynolds was honest with me earlier. He was never after my job. Melinda Terry was the parent that wanted me fired, not because of how it would impact her own daughter’s role on the team, but because she had a personal vendetta against me.

“You’ve been pressuring Mr. Lake to get rid of me since I started.”

“The moment I heard they hired you as the coach, I knew it would be a disaster, but nothing I said or did seemed to be enough,” she says. “I never went to school with the intention to hurt Evie or anybody. All I wanted to do was confront my own daughter and stop her from making a mistake, maybe get you in trouble while I was at it. I’ve given my daughter everything, and she’s still making stupid decisions. And Evie Masters of all people, with her absent mother and pitiful home life, knew better.

“History was just repeating itself. You favored Evie, just like my own father favored you. That’s why I lashed out and hit her.”

It wasn’t about protecting Amber’s reputation. She was reacting off the resentment she’s felt toward her father and me all these years, and Evie paid the price.

“You can end all this now,” I say. “Let me and Evie go before anything gets worse.”

“I can’t do that,” she says. “Too much time has passed.”

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