
Something is coming. The students know. The adults think they do.
Coming
This Weekend
A free short story from the 1980s small-town Texas world of Beyond the Goalposts. Laura Sanderson knows her students are planning something. By Saturday, half the county thinks it knows what.
CHAPTER FOUR
The Table
THURSDAY MORNING · OCT. 30, 1986 · 5:20 A.M. · BEFORE LIGHT
LAURA WOKE WHEN TRAVIS got out of bed. By the time she came into the kitchen, he had one boot on.
She started the coffee. “So they called you in?”
“Mm-hm.” He pulled the second one on. “Sounds like there was a wreck on the highway by El Toro.”
“That’s no good. I hope everyone’s okay.”
“Yeah, and we got a stack of calls yesterday about kids racin’ cars.”
“So more people know now?”
“Yeah, based on that Pizza Hut message somebody called in thinkin’ they’re settin’ up on some back road out in the country. We’re gonna try and isolate where we think the best spots could be.” He stood and stamped his heel down. “The Sheriff’s got a man lookin’ into it. Seems the whole city’s been callin’, so somebody’s checkin’.”
Travis walked over and watched the coffee drip.
“Any idea who called?”
She grabbed two coffee cups and placed them by the coffee maker.
“Beats me.” He got his hat off the chair. “We had three different ones.
”
He grabbed a thermos and poured some coffee in.
“No time to sit.” He kissed the top of her head going past. “It’s probably nothin’. Ever’ year it’s somethin’ different.”
The door shut and his lights came on in the yard and swung off across the fence.
She had told him on Tuesday. The Sheriff’s department started getting calls on Wednesday. She bit at her fingernail with her other hand on the cup. Then she grabbed the coffee pot.
THURSDAY ALL DAY · OCT. 30, 1986 · TWENTY-ONE
BEFORE THE FIRST BELL she’d counted twenty-one.
Matt Garrett’s 044 was still down by the tree. Cars kept coming while she got ready for class. Every time she looked out the window, there was another number.
Fourth period was halfway through the Wife of Bath when Matt Garrett knocked on her door and peered through the window. He wore an OFFICE AIDE badge.
Jerry Martinez sat up. Sandra Robertson turned in her seat, and somebody in the back said, “Garrett,” before Laura had waved for him to come in.
She kept a finger at her place in the book as he entered. “Yes, Mr. Garrett.”
“Mrs. Sanderson. Mrs. Nester sent me for your green form.”
The green form was on the corner of her desk where it had been all morning.
“Finish the paragraph,” she told Heather Dunn.
Laura went to the desk and picked up the form. She had told Ruth she would have it to her before she left yesterday. Yesterday had come and gone, and the form was no more ready than it had been.
Sandra whispered, “Y’all ready for tomorrow?”
“Heck yeah, we’re ready,” Matt said as he walked to where Sandra sat.
“That’s right, Garr. Blue wave comin’ for ’em,” Jerry said.
Matt pounded his chest twice as he held up two fingers to Jerry. “Yep. Yep.”
Somebody laughed.
Heather kept reading. Laura held the green form closer to her glasses. There was nothing on it she hadn’t already seen.
“You got any shoe polish left?” one of the guys whispered.
“How much you need?”
“For the Baja?” Jerry whispered.
Baja.
Laura kept her eyes on the form.
Matt said something too low for her to hear.
Jerry did not have that problem. “See, that’s what I’m sayin’. Garrett knows. Look at him.”
“I know you talk too much,” Matt said.
The room laughed, including Heather, who was supposed to be reading.
Laura put the form down.
“Mr. Martinez.”
Jerry turned around. “Ma’am?”
“What did she just read?”
He looked down at his book. It was open to the wrong page.
“That is what I thought.” She looked past him. Matt had made it three rows into the room. “Matthew Garrett.”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Did Mrs. Nester send you for a form or to visit fourth period?”
“The form, ma’am, but I thought since I was here, Jerry probably needed some extra help.”
“Well, if you don’t mind giving me my class back, can you tell her I have to check something before I turn it in? I’ll bring it down after lunch.”
“Yes ma’am.”
He went toward the door and turned around. He pointed at Jerry.
“Mr. Garrett.”
He smiled and shrugged at her. She smiled and shook her head. Everybody watched him.
“If we could get focused again, please. Go ahead and start the paragraph again.”
Jerry moaned.
Heather started over.
At the end of the day, the green form was still on the corner of her desk.
THURSDAY EVENING · OCT. 30, 1986 · 6:20 P.M. · CHICKEN FRIED STEAK
FRANK CAME TO THE TABLE in his practice shorts with his hair still wet and ate like they had been starving him since August.
Travis arrived at six with the flattened look he got on a long one. Nobody said much for a while. The television was going in the front room with nobody in there watching it.
“Y’all ready for Hallettsville?” he said.
“Yes sir, I think we got ’em. The boys are fired up for tomorrow.”
“Y’all better be. Their tailback’s been on a tear this season. Almost as good as that Cuero one.”
“Yeah, we been workin’ hard on defense.”
Laura passed the bread.
Travis ate a little more and then tapped his knife on the plate.
“Know anything about this Baja business?”
Frank stopped cutting his chicken fried steak. “Not really. People talk but not much.”
“You know what’s goin’ on Saturday?”
Frank put a bite in his mouth.
“Frank.”
He chewed and swallowed. “Not really, Dad.”
Travis stopped chewing.
“We’ve had three people call. There’s numbers on about twenty cars at your school and a message up on Pizza Hut.”
“Twenty-one,” Laura said.
She heard it come out of her own mouth. Frank looked at her once then back to his plate.
“Twenty-one,” Travis said. “Where’s all this happenin’, son?”
“Dad, come on. This ain’t fair.”
“Fair ain’t my job. Protectin’ you is. That’s why I’m asking what’s goin’ on.”
Frank stirred his mashed potatoes.
“Frank, you can tell us anything,” Laura said.
He looked at her. “No, ma’am. No I can’t.”
“That ain’t good enough, son,” Travis said.
“It’s all I can tell you.”
“Why?”
Frank pushed a piece of steak around his plate. “Because if I tell y’all one thing, they’re gonna know it was me.”
“Who will?”
“Everybody.” He looked at Travis. “You’re a cop.” Then he looked at Laura. “Mama’s at the school all day. They already think I tell y’all stuff.”
“I’m your daddy,” Travis said. “I’m askin’ where my son might be going Saturday night.”
“And I’m tellin’ you I can’t say.”
Frank pushed his chair back and went out through the kitchen door.
“Frank.”
The kitchen door shut.
Travis picked up his fork again.
“We’re putting him in a bad spot,” Laura said.
“He’s already in one.”
Laura leaned back. The door stayed cracked where Frank had walked out. “He’s got you at home and me at school.”
Travis tore a piece off his bread and ate it.
“If something happens Saturday night, what am I supposed to tell you? That I didn’t ask him hard enough?” He leaned back and drew his hand through his hair. “What am I supposed to tell the parents of this town? Sorry, but I didn’t want to push my son too much?”
Laura cut a piece of steak. “He says he isn’t going to tell us.”
“And he probably won’t.” Travis reached for his tea. “Do you know the Sheriff called Victoria this afternoon? Asked if they could spare us anybody Saturday night.”
“Y’all are making it bigger than this might be.”
“Nobody’ll tell us it ain’t.”
The kitchen door opened. Frank came through with his eyes on the hall.
“Frank,” Travis said.
“I’m done eatin’.”
He went down the hall. His door shut soft.
His plate was still on the table.
Travis finished eating. He carried his plate to the sink, ran water over it, and went in with the television.
Laura placed the leftover steaks in some Tupperware and put them in the fridge. She scraped Frank’s plate, wiped the table, and tied up the kitchen trash.
She carried the bag outside.
It was full dark and still warm. The porch light didn’t reach past the steps.
She put the bag in the can and came back around the house.
She was going up the steps when she stopped and turned back.
Frank’s truck sat by the fence.
There was a white 54 on the back glass with a circle around it.
It hadn’t been there earlier.
You've been reading the short story, Coming This Weekend.

At Edna High, one word is moving through the halls faster than any explanation: Baja. The students will not say what it means. The teachers have theories. The sheriff’s department has calls coming in. And Laura Sanderson stands where all of it meets: senior English teacher, deputy’s wife, and mother of a boy who knows more than he will tell her.
Nobody in Edna has the whole story. By Saturday night, it won't matter.