Chapter 18: Homecoming Week

September 22, 1980

After school, Mom took Angie and me to the florist to pick out a corsage for Candice and a boutonnière for Dan. His outfit didn’t actually need one, but we were doing it up big.

The florist walked us through it, though, the way I saw it, we didn’t need to choose. With our school colors, a red rose and a spray of white flowers were the first choice. Mom and Angie were having a great time, though, and I’d put up with most anything to ensure that.

Mom decided I needed a new sport coat, and she was right. My old one barely fit and was ugly to boot. So, we got dragged to a men’s store. They didn’t consult me while picking out my new attire. I wound up with a navy jacket that would work for most anything. I was pretty sure it was a bit frustrating for Mom to buy it, knowing I’d just outgrow it soon, but there wasn’t much I could do about that. At least I was planning on getting more use out of this one than Mom expected.

September 23, 1980

The school was all decorated in our school colors for Homecoming. They had encouraged teachers to find some way to mention Homecoming in their lesson plans. Many ignored it, but we had themed math homework, themed reading in English, and so forth.

Perhaps the best connection — of a sort — was in World Geography. It was unplanned and yet brilliant.

Early in class, Mr. Finch said something about how he was enjoying all the school spirit. “And they’d love it if I could tie Homecoming to World Geography. But I can’t think of a way to do it.”

I couldn’t either, but then, my home is here. Farzad raised his hand. Mr. Finch smiled. “Yes, Farzad?”

“I have a connection between World Geography and Homecoming.”

“Oh?”

Farzad nodded. “Today, my homeland is under attack by the nation of Iraq. I have complicated feelings about this. Many of my countrymen are at risk of being injured or killed, and much of the world’s cultural heritage is at risk. Yet I hope that somehow this war will cause the removal of the usurpers and fanatics who have seized my homeland and who make it impossible for me to go home.”

Mr. Finch looked moved. “Thank you for sharing that, Farzad.”

I couldn’t resist. I raised my hand.

“Yes, Steve?”

“Farzad, thank you for sharing that. Anyway, Farzad’s comment made me think. A war involving Iran and Iraq must also put the Americans being held in Tehran in harm’s way. I hope they can come home soon.”

Mr. Finch smiled, nodded. “Also a good observation.”

That opened the floodgates. Other students had a relative in the military overseas, or working somewhere, or were themselves from some other part of the country that they still considered their home. Mr. Finch, being no fool, started showing maps that were relevant, promised discussion of current active wars and where we had troops stationed, and looked for other ways to discuss homes that meant something to us.

After class, I stopped Farzad. “That was moving, Farzad. I wish your fellow countrymen all the best in the war and in recovering from the revolution.”

He nodded and sighed. “I fear many will die, and I do not believe it will remove the usurpers. They have fooled too many of the people and now they are too powerful. Until they become lazy, I fear I will never return home.”

I nodded. I didn’t have either a believable way, or the heart, to tell him that he was right.

September 26, 1980

The big day was here. We headed to the gym mid-afternoon for an even-larger-than-usual pep rally. I’d met up with Candice and Angie and Dan at the lockers, and we all walked together. I held Candice’s hand and Dan held Angie’s. We’d worn things to show spirit. I had on a red t-shirt with black jeans, while Candice had on a red cap-sleeved dress and white tights. She was both adorable and delectable. Angie had gone with a red-and-white blouse and red skirt.

The gym was already filling up. We climbed the bleachers to a high row in the back and settled in to wait. The band was playing, the dance team was just finishing a routine, and the cheerleaders were bouncing around.

“Damn, it’s loud!” exclaimed Angie.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Dan shouted back. “The more volume, the more spirit, right?”

Candice grinned. “I thought it was ‘the more bare skin, the more spirit’.” She waved a hand at the cheerleaders and dance team. To be fair, they had more on than even the average one-piece bathing suit, but they still looked very exposed.

Angie grinned right back. “Hey, works for the guys, anyway.”

Dan winked at her. “Just the guys, right, honey?”

She smacked his arm, playfully. “Perv!”

He shrugged. “Guilty. That’s why you’re with me.”

She shrugged, too, then grinned. “Fair point.”

Candice giggled. “I’m not sure who’s the perv. Steve? You or me?”

“Hmmm. Well, put that way I’d have to say it’s me, because if I say it’s you, I’m calling my girlfriend a perv.”

“But what if your girlfriend is a perv?”

“It still wouldn’t be gentlemanly to say it.”

She kissed me and giggled.

I watched, suddenly mesmerized. The cheerleaders were making a pyramid and way up on top, there was little Jessica Lively. I knew she was wearing tights and bloomers, but it was the perfect illusion of a girl in a miniskirt, legs bare, panties a tiny shift of position from being exposed. Candice caught where I was looking. “You win, you’re the perv. Jessica Lively?”

I nodded. “Can’t help looking, sorry, girlfriend.”

Angie laughed. “She wants people to look at her. If you didn’t look, that’s probably more perverted.”

Dan grinned, “Well, in that case...” and pretended to wolf-leer at Jessica. Angie swatted him again.

Connie and Jimmy turned up. “What’re y’all doing?” Jimmy asked.

“Ogling Jessica Lively,” I replied.

“In front of your dates?” Connie exclaimed.

“Hell, our dates are encouraging it.”

“I was not ‘encouraging’ it!” Candice huffed. “I just went with it.”

“While looking at her,” Angie giggled.

“Was not! And besides, you can’t prove it!”

Connie looked out at the cheerleaders. As noted before, our school is not that diverse, and the cheerleaders were even less diverse. “Think they’d go for me trying out? I mean, not that I would, but if I did?”

I nodded, trying to be serious. “I think they’d go for it, yeah. You’re everything they look for — small, athletic, and cute.” She blushed. “You’d make a great flyer. And I don’t think that they want to be so ... uniform. It’s just who applies.” She nodded.

Jimmy smiled. “It’d upset me if most guys called my girlfriend cute, but, with you, I know it’s just a compliment.”

I shrugged. “With the lovely and talented Miss Matthews for a girlfriend, my eye may wander, but my heart will stay where it belongs.” A second later I had lips pressed to mine and a tongue invading my mouth. I did battle with my tongue, swirling around, teasing her back. She moaned, groaned, and hugged tighter. I was very glad we didn’t have any teachers close.

When she broke the kiss, I saw she was sniffling a bit. “Honey?”

She smiled up to me. “You’re just the sweetest. I feel so lucky.”

“Hey, I get to go out with you. That makes me the lucky one. You could have your pick of half the school.” She sniffed a bit more and squeezed my hand.

“I’d say ‘get a room’ but I know you’re already trying to,” giggled Angie.

The cheerleaders retreated to the side of the arena, the band got louder, and the principal came out. “Now, I know y’all didn’t come here to see me, but you still have to put up with me for a minute!” There was a roar of good-natured laughter. “I’m glad to see you all infused with Mustang Pride. Now let’s take a moment and let the Reverend Anderson give the invocation.” He yielded the stage to the Reverend, who gave a brief speech about fair play and glorifying God in one’s heart and deeds and how he hoped God would guide the team and everyone to a happy life and an eternal reward. I was pleased that he never let himself say that God was a fan of the Mustangs.

The Reverend left, and the coach came on the mike with a brief blast of feedback. “And now, tied for the lead at 2-0 in district, your Memorial Mustangs!” There was a deafening roar, and the team trotted out. I didn’t know any of them but at that moment they still felt like they were ‘my’ team. I clapped, cheered, hugged Candice, and celebrated.

The quarterback came on. “Hey y’all! We just wanted to say thank you for all your support. We couldn’t do it without you! Now, I want all of you to be there tonight when we beat Northbrook and party in the stadium! And then tomorrow we’ll party all over again on the dance floor.”

He was a handsome guy. Even with my reluctance to rate guys, I could see that. I’d just bet he’d be partying. If we won this game we’d have a solid shot at winning our district, and winning district was the ceiling for our teams most years. We just didn’t have the size or the demographics to compete in football with the area powerhouses, much less across the state. We’d kick ass in tennis, sometimes in baseball, even soccer.

A couple more players spoke, expressing similar views on the outcome of the game and the resulting partying. Then the team stepped back, the dance team captain got to speak, then they did a number. High school dance teams, even more than cheerleaders, are an excuse to give the people who like ogling pretty girls a free pass. And, somewhat lackluster football history or not, we did just fine with pretty girls.

She passed the lead over to the head cheerleader, a tall blond girl whose name I’m not sure I ever knew, who extolled the virtues of cheering loudly and often before forming another pyramid with Jessica on top. They bounced a bit and Jessica went soaring up. I swear if she’d wanted to stay up there, she could’ve grabbed the support beams at the top of the gym. She flew back down and landed in the arms of the other cheerleaders, then hopped up and bounced around. I knew she’d be cheer captain in a couple of years, but even without foreknowledge I suspect a bunch of others knew that, too.

The band switched over to playing the school Fight Song, then the Alma Mater. They’d helpfully painted the lyrics for both on the gym walls. Few people bothered to memorize them.

After that, the pep rally broke up. We hung out for a while until the crowd cleared a bit. Dan looked at us all. “So, what’s the plan for tonight, again?”

“We’re just going by family tonight. We’ll meet where we met two weeks ago. Tomorrow’s the complicated night.”