Band Aids

He swore on his mothers grave, but then again he swore on just about anything. I had a fifty fifty chance of the test answers being correct.  Kelly said he got them directly from Mr. Crews' desk drawer. They looked legit since all the answers didn't implicate "C" as the correct response. I knew from friends that Kelly's cheat sheets weren't always right. I had never cheated on a test before. Well, not really. I did write the spelling words on my desk in 5th grade. U.S. History was not my strong point and I hadn't studied a lick. I needed to make an eighty five on this test or else risk not getting to play and be ineligible. I couldn't let that happen. I lead the team to a bowl game last year. They needed me. 

I stopped at Starbucks to grab a coffee on my way to class.  I overheard an elderly gentlemen speaking to his grandson. "If you don't take chances," he said, "you might as well not be alive."  The rest of the conversation was muffled but that is all I needed to hear. It still resonates in my head today. I watched him limp out to an old beat up Chevy truck. I remember because it backfired and all the patrons jumped at the raucous sound. It also had a really cool red stripe down the side. What I remember even more than that was his smell. He smelled like my grandmother's laundry room. That refreshing fabric softener smell that I love so much.

I walked into class, ill prepared except for the forty five random letters scribbled on my left forearm. Mr. Crews walked past and dropped the test on my desk. He suspected nothing. I felt a bit more secure in my decision. The old man's words kept me in focus. My choice was made and once he gave the go ahead to start I slowly rolled up my sleeve, revealing the alphabet on my arm. I began to copy them one by one to the test paper. I thought, "Man, I love multiple choice."  Of course, I waited to turn my test in. I didn't want to be first but I didn't want to be last either. I couldn't give any clues to my stealthy dishonesty. I laid the paper on his desk and he smiled as said with his country accent, "How did ya do Hank?" I hesitated for a second and replied, "Fine, I hope."

We got the results a few days later. Mr. Crews passed out the results. After he finished, he indicated he would like to see me after class. My legs went numb. Something was wrong. Damn Kelly! He must have given me the wrong answers. I was trying not to panic. Class seemed to last for three hours after he said that.

The bell rang. Everyone headed towards the door and Crews headed over to my desk. He sat on the corner of it.

"Son, you got every question right. How in the world did you do that?"

"I did? I guess studying actually paid off this time."

"It must have. I never knew Florida was one of the original thirteen colonies. Shoot son, you've taught me something." He sighed with a hint of disappointment and a smirk.

I was busted. He just let me know in his own way. No way around it. He got me.

"There is something my father told me," he said. "If you don't take chances, then you might as well not be alive. See my father is a vet. He risked his life for our country. Nowadays, kids have this sense of entitlement, like we, the older folk, own them something. I guess we do. We own them an ass kicking. My father lost his leg from the knee down by a small land mine that thankfully didn't fully discharge. He was running to save a young soldier that had been hit. He was taking a risk, a chance, in hopes to better someone else's life. He saved that young soldier and lost his leg in the process. That sir is taking a chance. You see my point?"

He looked out into the parking lot. "My father still drives the same truck he bought in the 70's.  You see that old truck out there?"

I looked and to my amazement it was the elderly gentlemen I saw earlier that morning.  I didn't say a word just turned to him and nodded yes.

"He's waiting out there to take me and my grandson to lunch today."

I didn't get the opportunity to play for the rest of the season. I didn't really mind. I never attempted to cheat ever again. I finished my football career with that small scar on my resume. But it is not the scar I tell people about.  It is the band aid that helped it heal.