Chapter 11

The big story Monday was Friday night’s football game and Annie’s faceplant. Everyone was in a good mood and it was fun to be a Cyclone. By Tuesday, the focus had shifted to homecoming. The king and queen would be announced on Wednesday. We were hoping Mandy Simms and Trey Applewhite would win but we’d done all we could. They seemed to be taking the extra attention in stride, which didn’t really surprise anyone.

At our Wing Chun lesson that night Sifu Chen introduced us to kicking. The kick was a four-count movement. Up, out, back, and down. When the out move was fastest, the kick was a thrust kick and our opponent would absorb our energy transfer through distance. If the back move was fastest, our kick would be a snap kick and our opponent would absorb it through shock. It’s the first time I realized that the same principle applied to jabs and cross punches. It made sense, though.

Sifu Chen said that if we found ourself in a confrontation with two or more people, we would be a lot more concerned with our choice of strikes. He said we would want to strike first one, then the other, using thrusting strikes to create distance. “You must occupy your opponent with their own injuries,” he said. That was not a concept you had to consider in boxing.

There were five more kicks to learn and all the footwork to get into place so the kicks would land. It seemed like it would be a lot more complicated to connect with a kick than it would with a punch. Feet had to do everything. Franklin and I were both enjoying it and I was beginning to like Sifu Chen more with each lesson.

On Wednesday, everyone expected to hear who the homecoming king and queen was during morning announcements, but it didn’t happen. Lunch rolled around and we still didn’t know. Near the end of lunch period, Ms. Bentz walked over to Jay and talked with him for a couple of minutes. I saw him nod a couple of times, and then she walked our way. She tried to pull Kim aside but realized she was getting both of us and didn’t complain.

“We had a double tie,” she said. “It’s never happened before. Mrs. Argyle is the head of rules committee, not just for homecoming, but never mind. You know all that. Trey and Jay tied for homecoming king. Jay confirmed he wanted to bow out, if the king would be Trey. So, he’s out and Trey will be our homecoming king. Kim, you tied with Mandy. Mandy is a senior and you’re a junior. According to the rules, ties go to the senior student if that’s applicable. I just wanted to tell you, personally.”

“That’s fine. I didn’t want to do it anyway, so it worked out great.”

Ms. Bentz looked at me and I gave her a sad puppy look. “I’m sorry, Aquaman. You didn’t get any votes.” I didn’t want to be homecoming king, but I kind of wanted to get a vote or two. “Not one,” she said and walked away with a funny smile.

“You got votes. She’s just messing with you, Aquaman,” Kim said.

“No votes,” I said in a sad, hangdog tone. “No votes.”

Kim laughed and we walked to our next class. No votes. Huh. That afternoon at swim practice, we worked on starts. Coach used Pendleton for his example and explained the mechanics of it. Pendleton had a really good takeoff, but he didn’t cover as much distance through the air as I did, and he didn’t stay under as long, either. Everyone practiced their start five or six times and then he got me on the block and asked me to demonstrate the stretch and underwater kick. Pendleton knew mine was better and it didn’t seem to bother him. Then everyone worked on starts again. I thought it was a good practice, especially for the new guys and some of the guys that had a chance at racing. I needed it, too.

After our workout, Kim and I followed Mom inside to the rec room to practice dancing. We’d done it four or five times and were getting the hang of the basic steps. Mom went to her room and came back with a pair of low heels that Kim fit into.

“Try it again, sweetheart. It’s not as easy in heels as it is in sneakers.”

That’s what Mom thought. Kim was a cheerleader. She was practically a gymnast, I thought. Kim had a couple of missteps, but it didn’t seem to bother her too much. It took a little bit of getting used to a dance partner that was almost as tall as me.

“I think I need lifts,” I said.

“Suck it up, cupcake,” Kim answered, and that was the end of that.

Thursday morning in homeroom, they announced who the homecoming king and queen were and we cheered. Mandy Simms and Trey Applewhite had gotten enough votes to be the king and queen. I was pretty happy Jay wasn’t going to be dancing with my tall fiancée.

At swim practice that afternoon, we practiced the start for backstroke. It’s a lot easier to do. All you have to do is grab the rail, tense up into a giant spring, and not leave the block too soon. Bobby was quite obviously the fastest. I knew I wasn’t second. I didn’t care who was in front of me until there was only one. I didn’t want to have the fastest backstroke. All I wanted was to have the second fastest backstroke. Actually, I did want the fastest backstroke, but I’d be satisfied with second, if Bobby was first.

I had a lot of work to do. I thought about the stroke sequence for IM. You started with butterfly which was a great stroke for me to start with. My start for the butterfly was good. The second discipline was the backstroke, so it was more of a continuation of the race rather than a start. That was good for me, too. It meant I didn’t need to be good at starting from the wall. The third discipline was breaststroke and even though it was my least favorite stroke, I wasn’t bad at it. The breaststroke was so easy for me, I almost felt like I was starting my freestyle laps fresh.

One of the interesting things about the IM is that each swimmer has a different series of strengths. I would expect to be in the lead or close after the butterfly. I’d probably lose ground during the backstroke, possibly gain some back during the breaststroke, and come home strong on freestyle. Possibly coming from behind, meant I could see the other swimmers and who I had to beat, especially if I was in the four or five lane, near the middle of the pool.

I thought I probably already had the best IM on our team but it was early and that could change. I knew that I was going to improve the most on back, and least on free. I wanted to go to regionals in free, fly, and IM, and go to state for freestyle. That was really ambitious but I thought I could do it and after a couple of meets, I’d have an even better idea.

That afternoon, we lifted and I hit legs hard again. The secret to improvement swimming was improvement in my legs. I did deep squats with progressively heavy weights. Then, I dropped the weight to one sixty-five and did five sets of ten. I kissed Kim goodbye and went to the pool where I swam a mile on my back, using a kickboard. I cannot begin to describe how exhausting that is. I’d swum five miles in open water and felt better when I finished than I did after one mile of kick.

When I limped back inside, Mom had a tall glass of ice-cold Gatorade waiting. She knew how hard I’d worked my legs. I had huge piece of sheepshead bass, a sweet potato, and a salad for dinner. I was in training.

After dinner, I called Sally. We updated each other on what was new in our lives. She was playing piano two days a week and was broadening her repertoire. I congratulated her on that and encouraged her to keep it up. I sort of apologized in advance for not calling as much the next two months. She understood better than most people that once I was on track for something, it was consuming and I tended to neglect other things, even if they were important. She reminded me to use Aussie shampoo because no girl likes a man with chlorine-green hair.

Friday was all about homecoming and big bad Bishop England, our cross-town rival. We knew they were good. We also knew they weren’t going to be surprised by us. We were in the same league and when Summerville got upset, everyone knew that Porter-Gaud had a team that could challenge you. The Saturday paper had a play-by-play article that told Bishop England just about everything they needed to know.

The gym was closed so a team of people could decorate it for the dance. Everyone that was supposed to be indoors at basketball for PE, came out to watch us practice. Coach Miller let us have free practice while he explained the different strokes, race starts, and meet scoring. Then he surprised us by having us line up for a two-hundred individual medley. Great. Normally, we wouldn’t do that until everyone had plenty of opportunity to practice but this was a special occasion.

We had twelve guys on the team and four of them didn’t feel comfortable with their butterfly so they weren’t going to race. Coach lined us up with Gil and Bobby in the four and five lanes with me in the six. I thought I should have been in the four lane but I think Coach Miller either didn’t care or he was messing with me. He was messing with me. No one I knew was more particular than Coach Miller. He was intentional and precise. He didn’t waste motion when he was swimming and he didn’t waste time in practice or the classroom. Everything was an opportunity for something.

I looked over at him as I climbed onto the starting blocks. He didn’t give anything away and seemed to be paying more attention to the kids in the bleachers than us. Did he think Gil and Bobby were faster than me? Was the starting position random? No, I knew that wasn’t it. He was sending a message. He was letting two senior swimmers know the starters for two hundred IM was theirs unless someone took it from them. That was it. Fine. I’d take it from one of them.

Coach looked at us and said, “Swimmers, take your mark.” He wouldn’t blow his whistle to start the race until the last of us stopped moving. There was always a little bit of gamesmanship getting into position. Some people thought there was a little advantage to being the last man moving. Others thought it was to their advantage to be the first to stop moving. For me, time seemed to slow down once I stopped moving. Whether I was first or last didn’t matter to me. However, if I could play head games with the others, I’d do it. Not with Bobby so much, but anyone else. I took my time.

I swayed a little on the block to keep Coach from blowing his whistle. I looked over at him while I was still swaying and he blew his whistle anyway, catching me off guard. I was airborne. I know my butterfly was fast, and probably the fastest but it didn’t matter. I made the turn and started my backstroke length. I reminded myself to not overreach and to keep my head level. I kicked like I’d never kicked before. After kicking a mile, fifty yards was nothing. I saw the flags and tried to time my turn. My turn from backstroke was probably my worst. I almost hit it on the money. Almost.

Instead, I got a mediocre push-off for breaststroke. I channeled my inner Birch. Smooth was fast. Breaststroke was all about the rhythm. After kicking so hard at backstroke, I had to calm down on breaststroke. I settled in after three strokes and wished I had more than just nine strokes of breaststroke. The other guys weren’t as efficient and would take ten or even eleven strokes. Before I even hit the wall, I was concentrating on the last length. I got a great turn and started counting strokes. If I was on game, I would take fifteen strokes. Sixteen was normal for me. Fifteen showed that I was being more efficient and powerful. I hit the wall in fifteen.

I felt great. I felt like I could climb back on the block and do it again. I had no idea who had won and coach didn’t say. I knew Bobby and Gil were close. He had us climb out and answer questions. They had questions. They had good questions and they had questions that made us laugh. The best answer came from Coach Miller. We were asked if we had to wear Speedos.

“Our swimmers wear Speedos to reduce drag. Most people don’t realize this but the fastest swimmers have the smallest dicks and the least drag.”

He said it with such a straight face that our spectators didn’t know if he was serious or not. We all tried to hold it in but it didn’t last long and we all bust out laughing.

When the questions were done, we gave a couple more demos and the period was over. The visitors left and Coach held us back a couple of minutes.

“Thanks, gentlemen. I don’t have to tell you that competitive swimming is a mystery to most people, and you lifted the veil for some of these kids. First meet in three weeks. Between now and then, if you want to race, show me.”

We were dismissed and started walking to the locker room. I paused and asked, “How did I do, Coach?”

“How do you think you did, Pierce?”

“I think I did pretty well, but I think Gil and Bobby did, too.”

“They did. Ryan wasn’t far behind. You want to know if you won, though.” I nodded. “It was close. Maybe if you hadn’t been screwing around on the block, you wouldn’t have to ask.”

“You surprised me,” I complained.

“Sort of like in real life? Not every starter is going to wait for you to get done dancing around. Don’t count on them to wait. This isn’t The Olympics. Starters vary. No guarantees. Go on, Pierce. Hit the showers and don’t forget to wash your tiny dick.”

“That was pretty funny Coach. I don’t think the visitors realized you were joking.”

“Who says I was joking? Go.”

“Harsh, Coach. That’s just harsh.”

After lifting without Kim that afternoon, I went for a swim and worked on my backstroke. I had to keep track of time because I had to get clothes ready for the dance after the game. Walking through the kitchen, Mom said, “I’ve decided to quit teaching dancing. I already have a full-time job washing your towels. You swam this morning before school, too. Then at school. Are you going to swim after the dance tonight?”

“I can wash my own towels,” I said.

“My budget for Aussie Shampoo is through the roof.” I just looked at Mom. I had nothing to say. “I’m teasing, Buddy. I’d much rather wash your towels than worry about you getting knocked around playing football.”

“I’m pretty sure it would be the other guys getting knocked around,” I said, giving my double biceps pose.

“Uh-huh. Dinner in ten. You better hustle.”

I showered and checked the mirror to see if I had a five o’clock shadow. I didn’t and that was a relief. Who has time to shave when you’re in a hurry? I grabbed my dance clothes and stuck them in the car. Bobby was going to pick me up for the game, but Mom was a chaperone and would bring my clothes.

Bobby and I found our usual seats a couple of rows up, right in front of where our girls would spend most of the game. We were on the thirty-yard line which meant we also had a good view of the game. Annie was back to cheerleading but not ready to do aerials, yet.

Bishop England drove to the fifteen before we stopped them. They settled for a field goal. When it was our turn, we drove the length of the field in eight plays for a touchdown, then surprised them with a trick play and a two-point conversion. We stopped them on their own forty and they punted. After a ten-yard punt return, our offense took the field. Jay took off to the right in what looked like an end sweep. He stopped short of the line of scrimmage to throw across the field.

Jay stopped but the running back that was supposed to be watching his back, ran over him as he passed the ball. We followed the flight of the ball toward an open receiver. He went up in the air for the catch and a Bishop England player knocked his legs out from under him before he caught the ball. Our receiver landed hard and stayed right where he landed. A yellow flag flew, but it didn’t matter. Jay suffered a leg injury from his own player and hobbled off the field, supported by two other players. Our receiver left the game with a concussion from landing hard. We were screwed.

We had a backup quarterback and other receivers as well as a fair running game but there was no doubt in anyone’s mind what the rest of the night would look like. It didn’t take long to see we were right. Our defense did a reasonable job and held them to twenty-four but we never scored again. It was a somber crowd that left the stadium for the dance.

I met Mom in the parking lot, grabbed my clothes, and went to the locker room to change. I didn’t know what anyone else was doing but I planned on looking good. I was one of the first people at the dance. The gym was well decorated but the lights were still bright and the music was soft. I found a spot in the corner and took a seat.

It crossed my mind that if I had gone out for football, I might have been the backup quarterback. I might have been able to step in and lead the Cyclones to victory. I wondered if I was selfish for not playing football since I seemed to be pretty good at throwing the ball. I remembered what Coach Hamilton had said about the catcher being like the quarterback of a baseball team and that even if I could play the position, I didn’t have the game sense to do it. I thought football was probably like that only more so. The thought that I could have stepped in and saved the day was ridiculous. It was stupid. I could no more quarterback our football team than Jay could swim a two hundred IM and hope to reach state.

I felt like an idiot for even entertaining the idea. Carly Simon’s song, You’re So Vain, came to mind and I thought it was appropriate. Maybe she should do another song, You’re So Stupid. I’d read that Mick Jagger was in the studio when she recorded it. He’d supposedly asked her if it was about him. She said, ‘yes’ and he ended up doing background vocals. I didn’t know if it was true or not but if Carly Simon wrote a song called You’re So Stupid I could definitely help with the background vocals.

Birch swam. That was it. He was good. No one ever expected him to play any other sport. Bobby was the same. Marci was the only person who had ever thought I should want to play football and it seemed like she had come around. I felt bad for Jay and the team but so did a lot of other people and they weren’t suffering from delusions about saving the day.

People started to arrive in greater numbers, the lights dimmed, and the music came up. They were playing what was probably top forty songs. I liked most of what they were playing but who, in their right mind, liked anything Yoko Ono was involved it? Sheesh. I saw Bobby and stood as he started to walk over. He looked sharp. He didn’t make it all the way. Mel grabbed him from the side and his night was planned. I sat back down.

Mandy Simms and Trey Applewhite came onto the dance floor and the DJ played, Dancing Queen, by Abba. They danced the first dance together and everyone applauded. I’m pretty sure they just danced together for that one song but it was still neat that they did.

I saw Jan come out on the dance floor and Marty found her in a hurry. I didn’t blame him. Jan was hot. The music was starting to get better as more people began to dance. My Sharona, followed Sultans of Swing and by then, pretty much everyone was dancing. I saw Mom talking with Mr. McClusky and Coach Hamilton. What I didn’t see was Kim. I waited.

When she finally showed up, it was worth the wait. She had on a calf-length, strapless red dress that had slits up the side. She was getting the mystery biker chick V shape from working out and the dress showed that off. Her legs were super toned from working out and cheer, and the slits up the sides sort of teased you. It was impossible not to stare. Not only was the dress perfect for her, but she knew how to make the most of it. When she walked across the dance floor, people sort of moved out of her way. The best part was that she was walking toward me.

We met just as You’re the One that I Want, by John Travolta and Olivia Newton-John came on. We knew how to dance to that. We danced together for three songs and then they started playing classics. The third song in that set was Pretty Woman by Roy Orbison. I didn’t know many songs by him but I knew that one and I liked it. We must have been doing pretty well dancing, because people were moving out of the center of the floor.

I didn’t know if that meant we were supposed to stop, move out of the way, or keep dancing. We kept dancing. Then I saw that Mel and Bobby were helping move people. We took up a lot of the floor. What the heck. If people were going to give us room, we’d take it. It was the perfect song and we nailed it. When it ended, we were both happy and I kissed Kim and didn’t really care what the consequences were. We’d been kicked out of the Bishop England prom before so we weren’t worried. Instead, we got applause, which was way better than getting suspended. It was so cool that we had so many friends that liked not just Kim, and not just me, but us as a couple. We moved off the dance floor since we’d hogged it so much. It was fun.

“We’ve got a lot of friends,” I said. She smiled and sat as I held her chair at an empty table then sat across from her. “I’ve never had a lot of friends. Certainly not this many.”

“Nice, huh?”

“Yeah. I wouldn’t have this many friends if it wasn’t for you. Who am I kidding? I’d have about three friends instead of dozens.”

“Hey, you two,” Mom said and sat across from us. “That was quite a use of those dance lessons.”

“Yeah. Thanks for that. You look nice, Mom.”

“Why, thank you. You clean up pretty well, too. By the way, for that kiss on the dance floor, Art said you’re both suspended.”

“What? Really?” I couldn’t believe it.

“Yes. He asked me to tell you both that your suspension begins at midnight and you’re both suspended until Monday morning.”

“Okay, that’s pretty funny,” Kim said. “You had Jack worried.”

“But not you?”

“No. I’ve never been suspended before. What’s it like?”

“You think you’re funny?” Mom asked, laughing. “Jack’s rubbing off on you.”

“Great. He’s funny and now I’m funny.”

“No, Jack thinks he’s funny, and now you do, too.”

“Ouch. That’s harsh, Mom. Is this dress what all you ladies were talking about the other day?”

“This is the dress we all wish we could wear,” Mom said, and Kim batted her eyes.

“Well, it’s smoking hot,” I said.

“No, Buddy, Kim is smoking hot. The dress just let everyone know. I’m going to leave you two and take my turn guarding the punch bowl, lest it get spiked again.”

We danced, and mingled, and congratulated the king and queen. They both thanked us. Our efforts hadn’t been as discreet as we originally hoped but that didn’t seem to change anything. They were both having fun.

It was almost midnight when Jay showed up on crutches. He seemed to be in a pretty good mood, considering how his evening had gone. I was going to talk to him but he was surrounded and obviously didn’t need me to cheer him up. He was definitely feeling a lot better about things than I was after I broke my foot. Maybe it was the pain meds. That had to be it. He’d go to sleep, the meds would wear off, and he’d wake up and feel like crap. That was my prediction. I hoped I was wrong.

A senior tapped me on the shoulder to cut in. At first, I had no idea what he was doing. Kim told me and I’m sure my face said it all. “No.” She smiled and motioned that it was okay. When it seemed like she was having too good of a time, I motioned to Lori Newsome. Kim looked, and saw me do a tapping motion. I was going to go dance with Lori. I wasn’t but she gave me a face of shock, disbelief, and caution, all in one. Then motioned for me to come back. I tapped him on the shoulder and got my girl back.

“You are so bad,” she whispered in my ear.

“Got the results I wanted, though.”

“Huh.” It was pretty funny. I thought it was pretty funny. Not sure Kim did.

The dance started to wind down. I found Mom and told her we were leaving. She kidded me about youngsters not having the late-night endurance her generation had. She had to stay until everyone was gone. Kim took me home, we kissed for a while, I complimented her, and her choice of dresses. She left and I went in for a snack. I heard the TV on and saw Dane passed out in the recliner while Magnum chased a bad guy in his Ferrari. Maybe I should get a Ferrari. No. I should get a mustache.

Kim picked me up early Saturday morning. We had plans. We made it out to Magnolia Plantation by eight-thirty, and met Dawn at the Carriage House for a tour and options. We liked the two-hundred-year-old house, but weddings held there would probably be outdoors on the piazza. There were a couple of other outdoor venues but we really liked the Carriage House. It had the best of both indoor and outdoor options. The old house was right next to the Ashley River with giant live oaks all around. One of them was easily three hundred years old. The Carriage House was rustic but it could definitely be decorated in a way we’d both like. Dawn told us the drawback of the Carriage House is that it would only seat one hundred and fifty people.

Kim and I looked at each other with the same question on our minds. “How many people are we going to invite, Jack?”

“I don’t even know. I never even thought about it.”

“Well, you two, I’d put that discussion pretty high on my priority list if I were you,” Dawn said, smiling. She knew we had over two years to figure it out. “We’ll take a reservation up to one year out. That leaves you sixteen months to come up with a number.”

“I can’t believe I never thought of it,” I said. “I definitely like this, though. If we knew we were going to have it here, we could either invite less than one fifty or rent a giant canopy, right?” She nodded.

“A hundred and fifty is a lot of people,” Kim said.

“It probably seems that way now. But your parents are going to want to invite friends, and you’ll make new friends between now and then. Your RSVP acceptance rate will be a big factor, too.”

“I don’t know what that means,” I said.

“It’s the percentage of people who you can expect to attend. The national average is eighty-three. If you invite one hundred people, you can expect eighty-three to accept the invitation and attend,” Dawn said.

“That’s the national average,” I said. “You know better, don’t you?”

“I do. The average for Charleston weddings is one-oh-six.”

“For every one hundred people you invite, one hundred and six will show up? That’s crazy.”

“Charleston has the highest rate east of the Mississippi. The day of the week matters, too, but you already know it will be on a Saturday. If I were you, I’d expect a rate of anywhere from one-ten to one-twenty. Unless the weather is just terrible, you’ll have a nice turnout.”

“People want an excuse to come to Charleston, Baby,” Kim said. I was sort of in shock.

We finished our tour and started for our next destination, which was a golf and country club in Mount Pleasant. To be honest, I didn’t think it would end up on our short list but we had plenty of time to look and their first wedding of the day wasn’t until later. We talked on the way.

“How many people do you think we’ll invite?” I asked.

“I’ve been trying to think through it. We’ll have graduated high school by then. I’ve got about twenty friends that I’ll probably stay connected to. There’s six from Denton’s ranch. I don’t have that many relatives. If I counted each of those friends as two people, because they’d want to bring a husband or boyfriend or something, the number is about seventy. I didn’t think it would be that high but I guess it is.”

“I was thinking I probably have half that. That’s about a hundred. Dawn had a point though. We’ll probably make new friends by then. Plus, there’s the crowd that comes over all the time. I’d definitely invite Doctor Legare and Lula Mae, Veronica, and maybe even Marie. If I do that, I might get Doc Tipman. Do I invite Hector and Art, and their wives? What about Timex and maybe Sifu Chen?”

“It’s our wedding. We get to invite whoever we want. You should invite Coach Miller, too.”

“Holy cow. I didn’t even think about that. Mom knows a bunch of Porter-Gaud staff, and if Mel is there, her mom will be, too, right?”

“Yeah. It would be really easy for this to get out of hand. One thing’s for sure, we need to take notes on venue size as we look.”

We drove out to Wild Dunes Golf Course and Country Club in Mount Pleasant. Our tour didn’t take long. I was right about the country club. Neither of us liked it. We were already in Mount Pleasant so it was a short drive to Poe’s Tavern in Sullivan’s Island for lunch. They have the best burgers north of the Cooper. I had a Tell-Tale Heart, which was a burger with a fried egg, bacon, and cheddar cheese. Kim had a Black Cat. She ordered without even looking to see what was on it. She just liked the name. When it came, she discovered it was the messiest burger ever to come out of a kitchen. It had grilled onions, bacon, cheese, and what they called Edgar’s drunken chili on it. It looked like a culinary delight but an etiquette disaster waiting to happen. She pretended like she was expecting it.

I thought she would take a knife and fork to it. Instead, she stuck a napkin in the front of her blouse, grabbed it with both hands, and went for it. After two bites, she had chili all over her hands and a funky chili smile. “What?” she asked as though it was somehow normal. It wasn’t. I shut up and enjoyed my Tell-Tale Heart.