Page 9 of The Falcon and the Foe

I tossed his badge and hat on a chair. “As I was saying…”

But Cal had moved on, it seemed. A Cheshire-cat smile curled on his lips. “Sounds like there’s an opening for co-scout leader.”

“You actually have to attend meetings on time and help plan things, not spout off unrealistic ideas.”

“Have any other parents signed up for the job?” Cal’s eyes traveled to the hat and badge, sending a sinking feeling churning in my stomach.

It was a shame that one of the tenets of being a Falcon was telling the truth. “Not yet.”

“People not clamoring to work with you? Let me feign surprise on that one.”

I stepped in front of the hat and badge, shielding them from his hungry, vindictive stare. “I don’t think you’d be a good fit for the role.”

“I beg to differ. I’d be a good check on your leadership. I can make sure these kids actually enjoy themselves and that you don’t turn camping trips into a scene fromApocalypse Now.”

“You don’t know the first thing about scouting or being a Falcon.”

“And you don’t know the first thing about being a nice person, so we’ll balance each other out.” Cal pivoted around me, swiped the hat from the chair, and plopped it on his big head. “Josh, we’re out.”

He strutted out the door, Josh in tow. I nearly burst a blood vessel in my brain as I watched him go. Cal was going to undermine my leadership at every turn—but only if I let him. Being a Falcon was the formative experience of my childhood, and it prepared me for the ugly twists and turns of life. I wanted to instill the same foundation in these kids and in my son.

We’d see how long Cal lasts as co-scout leader. If he wanted a war, he got one.

4

CAL

Iwoke up the next morning to the ding-ding-dinging of my inbox filling up courtesy of Russ. Did the man sleep, or was he actually a robot devoid of rest and feeling?

Wiping sleep out of my eyes, I scrolled through his messages. He had sent the application for co-scout leader, plus literature on the Falcons, plus guides on activities and badges, and my head was spinning from all the words on the screen. It would’ve been helpful if he condensed this tsunami of information into one large email, but I doubted Russ would do anything to help me.

What had I gotten myself into? But then I remembered his stern face slipping into panic when I put on the scout leader hat, and that made it all worthwhile. His misery would be my source of joy.

In the kitchen, Josh had slipped four frozen waffles into the toaster. My heart sank at the state of the room—dishes still in the sink, random mail and junk scattered on the table and countertops, grease accumulating on the appliances. I made another mental reminder to clean my damn house. I had good intentions, just not enough time.

Ding ding.

“You’re popular, Dad.”

“I’m being electronically waterboarded.” I put my phone on silent.

“What does that mean?”

“Scout Leader Russ is trying to break me, and not in the fun way.”

“What’s the fun way?”

Er. I better not answer that.

I poured a stripe of syrup on my waffle, folded it like a panini, and shoved half of it in my mouth. “Don’t worry. I’m going to make sure you all have a good time in the Falcons.”

His displeased reaction took me by surprise.

“What is it?”

“Nothing. I think Scout Leader Russ knows what he’s doing.” He took another bite of his waffle and shrugged. “The bus is coming.”

I checked my phone for the time. Another email popped on my notifications. “Shoot. Let’s get you going.” I grabbed his coat from the closet, and he got his backpack. We were a decently-oiled machine. The bus picked up at the street corner two houses down, just as it had when I was his age. I gave him a hug and kiss goodbye.

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