Chapter 10

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 21, 1991

“Jake, I need you to wake up.”

“Wha?”

“Jake, it’s time to wake up.”

“Huh?” I complained through bleary eyes, then suddenly gasped and sat straight up in the bed in a panic.

Dad took a half step back, after shaking me on the shoulder.

Was last night a dream? Was the whole day a dream?

“What day is it?” I asked Dad desperately.

He chuckled. “It’s Saturday morning, son.”

My eyes started to get used to the harsh light of the lamp on my nightstand and I caught my breath as I started to remember all of Friday. It wasn’t a dream. I played in the Homecoming game and ended up the hero. The girl of my dreams was finally mine!

A satisfied smile crept over my face as I dropped my head back down on my pillow.

“Yes, you had a big night, and you were out a bit late,” Dad grinned. “But now it’s time to pay the piper.”

I simply didn’t care. I stretched a little and nodded. I could haul some soybeans, if that was the price for maybe the greatest day of my life. That was okay by me.

“I’ll get up,” I said warmly.

“I’ve got a tractor running for you, so don’t take too long.”

“Okay.”

I reached up to turn the dial on the tractor radio to my usual rock station and let out the clutch on the big John Deere. Dad had thoughtfully turned the heater on already and it was blowing some dust around the cab. The sun wouldn’t be up for more than an hour, but I could see a hint of pink on the eastern horizon. I slapped my Cubs hat over my messy hair and just headed out to the tractor after a long morning pee. I grabbed a blue hoodie as well, as it was a bit chilly to start the day. The grass had a light layer of white frost covering it in some of the low areas. I had a few hundred bushels of soybeans trailing behind me as I drove toward the co-op in town.

In fifteen minutes, I parked the tractor and wagon in a long line of other tractors and found Grandpa Parker had taken a spot a few tractors ahead of me. He was already talking to a couple of farmers as I climbed down the ladder of the tractor.

“There he is!” Grandpa enthused.

“Good morning,” I gave him a lopsided grin.

“Already heard you had quite a game last night.”

“Well, we won,” I shrugged.

“He’s undersellin’ it,” one of the older farmers said in a gravelly voice. “He blocked the game-winning field goal.”

“So I hear,” Grandpa said proudly. “I just wish we would have known you’d be playing. We’d have come out for that.”

“Yeah, someone got hurt, so they brought me in,” I added. “I had no idea I’d get to play.”

They all wanted my version of the story, so I told them how I got into the game, a couple of plays on defense and how the kicker knocked the ball straight into my face mask. That drew a couple of laughs, but they were still impressed.

“Should we get you some breakfast?” Grandpa finally asked.

“Yeah, I’m starving, actually.”

“Keep him fed, so we can keep winning,” the other farmer demanded.

So we did. Grandpa brought me into the old gas station where he refilled his tall Thermos with fresh coffee. I grabbed two sausage biscuits and a Mountain Dew to fuel me up for the day.

Grandpa paid, and we brought our breakfast out to the front weights on his tractor once again.

“Think you’ll get more playing time after last night?” Grandpa asked.

“I’m not sure,” admitted. “But if Ryan Meeder is still injured, I might.”

“Well, let us know. We’ll get to more varsity games if you’re going to play.”

“I’ll let you know,” I smiled.

The line to sell grain started to move promptly at 6 a.m. I took my turn as each unit was sampled and weighed, then the grain would be offloaded and the whole unit weighed once again.

I grabbed a slip from the attendant and throttled up the tractor to head back to the farm.

I couldn’t help but smile and be in a warm mood. Thoughts of making out with Jen and having our hands all over each other flooded back. I couldn’t wait to see her again and I knew I had to call her as soon as I was done with farm work for the day.

I took turns with Grandpa and Uncle Mike hitching up to wagons and dragging them into town. The wait at the co-op was sometimes longer than the wait in the field or the drive there.

We took a break for lunch and Grandma brought sandwiches out to us.

I had to tell the story of the game again, as she listened eagerly. She eventually let me eat my ham sandwich and drink my Pepsi.

In the late afternoon, Dad hopped out of the combine to let me know I could knock off for the day. He would have me bring one last load of beans to the co-op, then he’d have Grandpa fill one last wagon to be brought in Monday morning. We were actually very close to finishing up the soybeans and if the weather held, the guys would soon be taking in the corn soon.

Given a bit of freedom, I ran into the house and washed up. It was time to make a phone call.

“Hello?” A mature female voice answered.

“Hi, this is Jake Parker. Is Jennifer there?”

“Hi, Jake! Yes she is, just give me a second.”

I heard the muffled sound of a hand covering the receiver and the rusty squeak of a storm door opening.

“Jen! It’s your boyfriend!” I heard Glenda tease her daughter in a sing-song voice.

I couldn’t help but chuckle and feel warm inside. I once had a girlfriend who didn’t even tell her parents about me at first. This was a really good sign.

“Mo-ooom!” I heard Jen complain as the storm door clapped shut.

Then another moment passed as she likely tried to compose herself.

“Hi, Jake?”

“Hey, how are you?” I asked warmly.

“Good,” she answered, somewhat short of breath. “I was just shootin’ some hoops.”

“Cool,” I answered somewhat awkwardly. “I just got done hauling soybeans.”

“Look at you, farm boy,” she teased.

“It’s a living,” I conceded.

Our first moment of telephone awkwardness followed with some uncomfortable silence.

I was first to break it.

“So, I hope your Mom isn’t teasing you too much?”

“Uh, no. Oh wait, you heard that?” she asked in embarrassment.

“Yeah, I think she meant for me to hear it.”

“Ugh!” she groaned. “Yeah, I told her everything this morning.”

“Everything?” I asked suspiciously.

“Well, no, not every detail,” she admitted quietly.

“But she knows you got your man?”

“She does,” Jen said warmly. “And I did. Your parents teasing you yet?”

“Uh, I guess I haven’t had a chance to tell them yet,” I admitted.

“Mom grilled me when I got home. She’s really happy for me. Oh, and for you too.”

“And Bill?”

“Uh, Dad didn’t say much,” Jen let the implication hang in the air. “But I know he likes you.”

“Mom and Dad will be happy,” I agreed. “I just haven’t had a chance to tell them yet.”

“You ashamed of me?” Jen asked teasingly.

“Heck no!” I shot back. “I want to yell it from the rooftops!”

“No one’s going to hear you from the farm,” she laughed.

“I can come and do it at your place?” I offered.

“I already know though,” she giggled.

Another awkward moment struck, but I decided to go for broke.

“So what else is going on? Got plans tonight?”

“Nope.”

“On a Saturday night?” I teased.

“Yeah, even on a Saturday night,” she admitted. “I’m kind of a homebody.”

“Can I see you?”

“MAY-be,” she said teasingly.

“Can I take you out?” I asked.

“Hmmmmmm, uh, Dad didn’t say much, but one thing he did say was ‘you may have a boyfriend, but you’re still not dating yet,’” she said in her silly, deep-voiced impression of her dad.

“Bummer,” I said dejectedly.

“Mom said she’s going to work on him,” Jen brightened. “And there’s other stuff we can do to get around that.”

“Like what?”

“Come shoot hoops with me,” she answered.

“Sounds like you have this all thought out,” I said conspiratorially.

“Well, I had some time to think about it,” she admitted.

“When?”

“When I was thinking about dating you.”

“So you WERE thinking about it?” I teased.

“I couldn’t think about much else, Mr. Full Court Press,” she teased accusingly.

“I know...” I admitted. “But it worked.”

“I guess so.”

“So, hoops?”

“Yeah, come shoot hoops with me,” she brightened.

“OK!” I enthused. “But there is one thing I have to do later tonight. How long did you want me to stop by?”

“I dunno, we could play until supper or something?”

“It’s a date!” I enthused. “Or, I guess it’s not,” I corrected myself.

“Just hurry up!” she enthused.

“Bye, girlfriend,” I said softly.

“Bye, boyfriend,” she said softly back.

It seemed odd to shower to go play hoops, but I still had someone to impress. I scrubbed the farm dust off me and styled my hair before putting on sweatpants and a sweatshirt over a muscle shirt. It was not a warm day.

I had two more things to take care of before I could leave. First, I had to make another phone call. Second, I figured I better talk to Mom about Jen.

I called Beast, hoping he’d be done with farming for the day as well. We made plans to meet up with Tree and head to the local steakhouse at 8:00 p.m.

“You can bring the refreshments, right?” I asked.

“Already taken care of,” he said smugly.

With that business handled, I headed for the living room but got intercepted on my way.

“Where you headed?” Mom asked.

“I was gonna go shoot some hoops,” I shrugged.

“Basketball with the boys?”

“Uh, not exactly.”

“I hear Jennifer Fox is quite the basketball player,” she grinned knowingly.

“You already know, don’t you?” I sighed, realizing the cat was already out of the bag.

“Not much gets past me, Mister,” she said in a mock-stern voice. “Just kidding! Glenda called me over lunch. She was pretty excited for you two.”

“Well, that saves me from having to tell you.”

“When were you going to tell us?” Mom asked accusingly.

“Right now,” I shrugged.

Mom raised an eyebrow and gave me a suspicious look.

“What? I was!”

“Okay,” Mom nodded. “Then just tell me what you were going to say.”

“Oh, yeah, well, Jennifer and I got together at the Homecoming Dance, and we’re, uh, together now.”

“Together?” Mom giggled.

“Boyfriend and girlfriend, Mom,” I complained.

“So, how did it happen?”

“Well, uh, I guess I had asked her to go to the dance more than once, and she had turned me down. But she did show up eventually and we just, uh, we just danced.”

“And that makes you boyfriend and girlfriend, “Mom smiled mirthfully.

I had my suspicions once again.

“You already know, don’t you?”

Mom laughed out loud, jabbing me in the shoulder.

“Not funny,” I crossed my arms over my chest.

“I’m sorry. Glenda already called me. I just wanted to hear your side.”

I went ahead and indulged Mom with the PG-version of the story, minus the lengthy makeout session after the dance and the whole reason for some of the Thursday night angst. She seemed delighted and had only one bit of advice for me when she was done interrogating me.

“Jake, be kind and take things slow with her.”

“Mo-oooom,” I complained, rolling my eyes at her.

“You’re her first boyfriend, Jake. Don’t break her heart.”

“MOM!” I said sharply. “What would make you think I would break her heart?”

“Well, nothing. Just, just take things slow with her.”

“Ugh, Mom, I gotta go.”

She seemed to sense that she’d worn out my patience and mercifully let it go.

“Jake?” she asked as I reached for the door.

“What?” I asked in exasperation.

“I’m happy for you.”

I let my guard down and softened my teenage tone.

“Thanks, Mom,” I gave her a hug and ran out of the house.

The 12-mile drive to Jen’s was a reminder that almost every farmer was out in the fields. There was dust in the air as the combines were ripping through soybeans all over the countryside. The tan fields were replaced by darker soil colors on the ground as each pass was made.

I parked the Mustang in front of Jen’s house and found she was already taking shots at her hoop. The cold breeze was swirling the occasional fallen leaf across the grass.

I looked her over as I walked up. She was in old, scuffed high tops, gray sweatpants and a pink sweatshirt. I loved the way her long blond ponytail swished around while she dribbled and shot the ball. She wasn’t wearing a hint of makeup and she couldn’t have looked prettier if she had.

She cradled the ball in the crook of her arm and beamed a big smile at me as I walked up.

We were both a little awkward and unsure of ourselves until she dropped the ball and stepped forward, pulling me into a hug. She wrapped her arms around my neck just like at the dance and I wrapped my arms around her lower back.

“Hey Boyfriend,” she said into my neck in a honeyed voice.

I inhaled her scent just behind her ear and let my lips brush over her soft skin.

“Hey, Girlfriend.”

She seemed to tense for just a moment before relaxing into me again.

We broke apart, and I fought off the urge to kiss her, not knowing who might be watching.

Her blue-green eyes sparkled and she seemed effervescent with energy.

“Ready to get your butt kicked?” she asked mirthfully.

“Nope,” I said with soft confidence.

“No?” she asked with her head cocked. “You’re going to.”

“Nope,” I said again more flatly. “You’re going to teach me.”

“Teach you?”

“Teach me,” I smiled and nodded to her.

She bounced the ball to me. “Take a shot.”

I dribbled the well-worn ball experimentally. It was well-inflated, but what could have been hundreds of thousands of dribbles from this athletic girl who had worn the surface rather smooth and slick. I rolled my neck around to loosened up and then took two more dribbles before I hoisted up a shot that klanged off the front of the rim.

“Brick!” she said teased softly.

“OK, yeah, my first shot,” I complained. “So tell me what I’m doing wrong?”

“Take another shot,” she shrugged, tossing me the ball.

I took a few more dribbles, then tried another jumper. Jen didn’t watch the shot, she had her eyes glued on me.

My shot klanged into the backboard and fell through the hoop. I fist-pumped after making the shot but Jen was quick to admonish me.

“You don’t follow through,” she shook her head.

“I made the shot?”

“You don’t follow through,” she shook her head at me, gathering up the ball.

“Watch,” she said, then hoisted up a lovely shot that hit the rim, bounced and dropped through.

“My shot looked better than yours,” I crossed my arms over my chest and grinned.

“Come here,” she stood at the makeshift charity stripe and beckoned me with a crooked finger.

“Take one more shot here,” she ordered, handing me the ball sort of hard into my stomach.

I winced and gave her a hard look. She giggled and pointed to the hoop.

“Shoot it,” she practically whispered into my ear.

I gave her a sideways glance, then targeted the hoop and took a measured shot. It arced up and bounced off the front of the rim again.

Jen gathered up the ball and looked at me thoughtfully.

“You do everything right until after the shot.”

“After the shot? What difference does that make?”

“Follow through,” she said, as if it were obvious. “You cradle it right. You guide it with your left hand, but you don’t put your shooting hand in the cookie jar.”

“The cookie jar?” I chuckled.

“Put your hand in the cookie jar,” she said cutely, then mimicked a shot and followed through with an exaggerated downward motion.

Thoughts of Jen catching me with my hand in her cookie jar just the night before put a grin on my face as I stared at her. I had to shake the thought out of my head for a moment.

“Hand in the cookie jar,” she shrugged. “It’s like you shoot, then reach your hand into the cookie jar.”

I laughed as she bounced the ball to me.

“Now take another shot, and steal a cookie,” she grinned.

I dribbled it twice and tried it her way, exaggerating the motion at the end of the shot.

KLANG!

The ball hit the right side of the rim and bounced down the driveway. Jen was quick to collect it while I gave her a reluctant look.

“Look, you like the Bulls right?

“Yeah,” I said blankly.

“What does Michael Jordan look like when he finishes his jumper?”

I thought about it for a moment before I grinned and answered.

“He usually has his tongue out,” I laughed.

Jen growled at me harmlessly. “Even Jordan reaches into the cookie jar. Trust me. Watch next time.”

“Alright,” I conceded.

“Just get used to it now,” she said, passing the ball to me.

I sighed and dribbled the ball twice more, then cradled it and launched up another shot with the exaggerated motion.

“SWISH!”

“SEE!” she enthused in an encouraging voice. “Gotta steal a cookie.”

I was as attracted to Jen at that moment as I had ever been. The light breeze blew through her long blond ponytail as she stood there with a fist on her outthrust hip. The gleam in her green-blue eyes was the kicker though.

“You’re pretty when you’re right,” I teased her.

“Just when I’m right?” she challenged me.

“You’re right a lot, I guess,” I bailed myself out.

She pursed her lips in an attempt to keep from smiling. I called her bluff and thanked her for the lesson.

We played a game of horse to try out my new skills. She absolutely destroyed me. She was a very good ballplayer with someone guarding her, and an assassin without. I had no chance.

“First to ten?” she offered.

That was more like it. I nodded readily and she bounced the ball toward the key.

“Guest goes first,” she grinned.

I bounced the ball back to her wordlessly and she pumped it right back at me.

Predictably, I dribbled to my right and she was all over me once again, putting the pressure on from the start. I backed into her a bit to keep her hands away from the ball and slowly backed my way toward the hoop. As we got closer to the garage door, I faked back to my right and she bit hard. I swung back to my left and jumped up to fire the ball over her outstretched hands.

Problem was, I missed so badly that the ball cleared the backboard and rim entirely and klanged loudly against the garage door.

“Oh!” she chuckled, then gathered up the ball and dribbled up to the key.

This wasn’t looking good for me already.

“Check it,” she said with determination, passing the ball hard at me.

I gathered it up before it hit me in the chest and bounced it back just as hard. I set my jaw and waited for her to make her move.

She took a dribble straight at me, then crossed over and put a palm on my hip, trying to skirt around me toward the hoop.

I kept my feet moving and stayed between her and the goal as our bodies came into contact. She seemed to pause, but kept dribbling for a moment while an idea percolated in her head. She suddenly drove right into me and checked her hip into my pelvis, then stopped her momentum and prepared to leap up to shoot. Her shove into me kept me off balance, but I was able to jump with my hands up to block the shot.

The problem was, she never took the shot. My momentum took me out of range and she took a lazy shot from medium range that, of course, swished easily through the hoop.

Jen pretended to wave away a yawn as she jogged toward the key.

I sighed and gathered up the ball. I would almost rather hear some taunting from her than to have her pretend it was too easy for her.

I jogged up to meet her and passed the ball to her.

“Two-nothing,” she asked in mock confusion. “Is it two-nothing already?”

I narrowed my eyes at the mirthful girl and held my hands out for the ball. If she wanted to get physical, I’d show her physical.

She grinned and bounced the ball back to me. I held it for a moment to glare at her, then started dribbling to my right. I crossed back over to my left, mostly to show her that I could do it too, then crossed back right and started driving her hard to the hoop.

We were both breathing hard and I sprinted quickly toward the hoop, realizing I had powered past her. I had the rim in sight and jumped up for an easy layup that rolled off my fingers and into the backboard. I was coming down from my jump and admiring my shot when a hot, strong body slammed into me and took me right into the garage door, loudly.

“Ow!” I complained as my right side crashed into the garage door. “No need to foul me after the shot,” I complained heatedly.

Jen was too busy holding her sides as she laughed hard at my expense. “Not so tough,” she teased.

My blood started to boil. At least the shot had gone through and we were tied up.

Jen stopped laughing and picked up the ball, dribbling it to the key.

“Two-two then?” she asked with her head tilted.

“For now,” I growled.

She bounced the ball to me a little more lightly. I tossed it back the same way.

She narrowed her focus and dribbled right at me again, pressing me back. I kept my body against her, moving my feet quickly to keep up with her and shielding her away from the hoop. She tried to fake me to the right and I moved toward her instead of away, and she was forced to grab the ball before it bounced away from her. She was stuck pivoting on the spot and I pressed right up on her to keep her from taking a shot. She had no chance, but twisted her body to the right and tried a jumper. I got a hand on the ball and it sailed over my head harmlessly. I hustled back to grab it and dribbled right to the key.

“Foul,” she complained.

“Foul?” I asked incredulously. “If we’re calling fouls, I want one for that shot into the garage door.”

“Never mind,” she complained a little heatedly.

I studied her body language as she moved up to defend, then I checked the ball to her. She held it for a moment, then bounced it back to me.

I had discovered something the last time I had the ball and I was going to do my best to take full advantage of it. I dribbled once with my left hand, then crossed over and started sprinting as fast as I could at a full dribble. She got after me in a panic, but she couldn’t quite keep up with me as I circled around her and had the hoop in my sights once again. I jumped high and hard and popped the ball against the backboard and in for my first ever lead against her.

Jen gathered the ball and grumbled as she dribbled it up to the key. I had finally found a chink in her armor. Sure, she was the better basketball player, but I was still an athlete, and I found that I was faster than her and I could use that to my advantage.

She tossed the ball at me and I held it for a moment.

“Four-two?” I smiled, my head cocked to the side.

“Yeah,” she said tightly. “For now.”

I tossed the ball back her way and she dribbled hard to her left, trying the same thing I had just done. I kept inside her personal space and moved my feet as fast as I could. She crossed over and stopped me in my tracks, then crossed back over and got around me. I bailed out toward the hoop to try to block her shot and she again had me faked out as she froze in place and watched me helplessly jump out of her way.

A wry grin spread over her face as she hoisted up an easy shot. But it missed! My momentum had taken me right toward the hoop and I gathered the rebound as it bounced off the front of the hoop.

I could hear her growl as I dribbled up to the key.

I grinned and tossed the ball her way as she walked up toward me in irritation.

I used the sleeve of my sweatshirt to wipe some sweat that had started to gather at my brow.

“Am I wearing you out?” she teased.

“You’re about to be down six-two,” I shot back. “We’ll see who’s worn out.”

She tossed the ball to me and followed it, getting right up close and personal with me. I held the ball up in both hands out of her reach and gave her a head fake left before breaking to my right and dribbling like mad. I had cleared her all the way at the top of the key and had a free run at the hoop. I was just feet away and could hear her footsteps behind me. The thought of her knocking me through the garage door was not appealing, so I put a little curve in my route to the rim and touched the backboard as I rolled the ball off my fingers and gently into the hoop. My momentum carried me out from behind the hoop and away from the garage door, but she ran into me anyway. This time I was ready for her, and she knocked the air out of her lungs as she ran her body into mine. I watched helplessly as she fell to the asphalt at my feet in a heap.

“OH! Sorry!” I immediately reached down to help her.

“Not your fault,” she puffed a stray hair out of her face and accepted my extended hand. She started to rise, then deviously grabbed my arm with her other hand and pulled down on me with all her weight. I lost my balance and toppled down over her, doing my best to land without putting my weight on her giggling form.

I was almost face-to-face with her as she giggled and gasped for breath. I took advantage of having her pinned to the ground and started tickling her sides. Her giggles turned to gasps of laughter and she fought me off with her hands.

“Stop tickling me!” she shrieked happily.

I stopped my tickle assault and raised my torso with a knee on each side of her legs. I couldn’t help but be very aware that my groin was nearly pressed into hers, pinning her to the ground. She stopped laughing for a moment and looked into my eyes, then did sort of a situp to bring her face closer to mine.

Neither of us said a word and I fought the urge to grab her face and kiss her panting lips.

“Six-two,” I said softly.

“For now,” she grinned.

I got up off her and extended both hands her way, leaving her no chance to topple me again.

She smirked and accepted both hands up and stood once again, catching her breath.

“Thirsty?” she asked innocently.

“I’m two shots away from beating you. I can wait,” I grinned.

“Have it your way,” she shrugged, then gathered the ball and dribbled it to the key. I chuckled as I met her there and checked the ball back to her.

Jen narrowed her focus again, then dribbled straight at me once more. I reacted as always, moving quickly to keep my body between her and the hoop. She had me fooled from the start. She dribbled two steps back and set her feet outside the spray-painted three-point line and hoisted up a gorgeous shot before I could do a thing about it. I watched helplessly as the ball arced gently into the backboard and through the net.

Jen stood cutely with her right fingers pointing down like she’d just gotten caught with her hand in the cookie jar. She wiggled those fingers as I looked at her with my mouth open.

“Six-five,” she sang and then giggled again.

Wordlessly, I gathered up the ball and simply carried it up to the key, bouncing it back to the gloating girl. I half wondered if she was just toying with me, but I still felt like I had an athletic edge. Well, I should. I’m a guy and I’m still bigger than her.

She tossed the ball back to me and winked, which put that doubt right back into my mind.

I dribbled right and just stayed right, leaning into her and dribbling like a mad man as I sprinted to get around her. This time she was onto me, but it was time to show her that I could learn as well. She had beaten me to the corner, but her momentum allowed her to run right past me as I put the brakes on just like she had earlier and stopped to watch her sail out my way. I squared up and made a beautiful shot, with exaggerated follow through, and fist-pumped as the ball sank through the net.

“I believe that’s eight-five,” I taunted as Jen gathered herself up and grabbed the ball. She seethed as I dribbled the ball up to the key and checked it to her. I was feeling confident, but I knew this was not over yet.

She faked left immediately, then crossed over on me. I kept right up against her and got my hands up in time to get one finger on her hasty shot, then beat her to the rebound.

“Game points?” I tilted my head as I checked the ball to her.

“For now,” she grinned back at me.

I wiped a little more sweat from my brow and took a dribble to the right, then crossed over on her and kept going left, picking up speed as she shuffled her feet and swatted at the ball.

She missed it and I crossed back over to the right and jumped up to float a gentle shot at the rim. The winning shot arced into the rim and bounced back toward the free-throw line. I gathered the rebound up with both hands and guarded it with a shoulder as Jen pressed into me once again. I used my arm-length advantage and started to dribble behind me, keeping her away from the ball. I used the big man move and dribbled with my backside into her and moved us closer to the net by a few steps before I twisted my body around and leaped for the shot with that exaggerated cookie-theft motion again. Jen jumped up just a millisecond late and had to turn to watch my shot hit nothing but net.