The dark sky, filled with angry, swirling clouds, reflected Geoffrey Henderson’s mood as he sat at the table. His mother’s voice came to him again lecturing him endlessly about his poor efforts in science.
Geoffrey had just recently turned sixteen and his mother had wanted him to mature and start focusing on his studies. He sat in the small, pale green kitchen listening, knowing that the lecture would end with his mother saying he couldn’t play volleyball with the Patriots. He played on his high school team. He had asked his mother the week before if he could continue playing, and she explicitly had said that it depended on his next report card; it didn’t go so well. He had been getting 80% in science.
“And you want to play volleyball?”
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They used to say I sung country music so sweet that if I sang at a funeral, the dead would commence to rocking with the beat. Used to travel all over Mississippi and as far as Monroe, Louisiana, and east on over to Macon, Georgia. You mean you ain’t never heard of Sweet Vince Reed?”
“Nope.”
“What you doing here? How come you don’t go home when it starts to snow.”
“Just didn’t.” Geoffrey looked away.
“I used to have a boy just like you.” Vince Reed had half walked, half shuffled back to the corner and sat down against the wall. “Had them big eyes like you got. He joined the army and died in battle.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“They were talking about treasures,” Geoffrey said. “You really have a treasure?”
“What I tell you? Didn’t I tell you every man got a treasure?” Vince Reed said. “You want to see mine?”
“If you want to show it to me,” Geoffrey shrugged.
“Here, you hold this.” Vince Reed gave Geoffrey the flashlight.
He sat on the floor near Geoffrey and carefully untied the strings that held the rags on his right leg. When he took the rags away, Geoffrey saw a piece of plastic. The old man carefully took off the plastic and unfolded it. He revealed some yellowed newspaper clippings.
“There it be,” he said, nodding his head. “There it
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That’s for sure.”
“You really think that treasure of yours was worth fighting for?” Geoffrey asked.
“What else a man got ‘cepting what he can pass on to his son, or his daughter, if she be his oldest?” Vince Reed said.
Vince Reed got up after patting his rags in place and looked out the window again.
“Looks like they’re gone. You get on out of here and get yourself home. I’ll be watching from the window so you’ll be alright.”
Vince Reed went down the stairs behind Geoffrey. When they reached the front door the old man looked out first, saw the street was clear and told Geoffrey to scoot on home.
“You sure you’ll be OK?” Geoffrey asked.
“Now didn’t I tell you I was going to east St. Louis in the morning?” Vince Reed asked. “Don’t that sound OK to you?”
“Sure it does,” Geoffrey said. “Sure it does. And you take care of that treasure of yours.”
“That I’ll do,” Vince said, the wrinkles around his eyes suggesting a smile. “That I’ll do.”
Geoffrey didn’t even want to think how late it was. He thought ahead of what his mother would say. Geoffrey pushed the button and thought of the lecture he knew his mother would give him, and
After watching practice, Reed got a chance to speak with Florida football head coach Jim McElwain. McElwain message to Reed was that Florida wants him, they need him bad.
“I went to UB to play baseball,” he said. “[I’m going to] keep playing. Keep playing for the Copperheads right now”.
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