Chapter 2

At lunchtime, I ran into Tom Humphreys and his crowd.

“Guess you think you are a big guy at school now, hotshot.”

I replied, “Hi Rodney, I’m glad to see you are your usual wonderful self, the Tom we all admire.”

You could tell that he didn’t know how to take that.

“I just don’t want you to get a swelled head, it’s not like you play a real sport.”

“Thank you, Rodney, I appreciate the advice and I will take it in the spirit it was given.”

Again he looked a little disconcerted. I continued, “See you later; I’ve got to get in line for my lunch.”

I wasn’t going to get in a fight if I could avoid it, but I was getting tired of his crap.

I joined Tom at our regular table. Today the entire golf team was there to congratulate me. It was actually nice to get compliments from guys who could appreciate what I had done.

John Scott surprised me by saying, “I would flunk out this year if I could play on the team next year, but I will be nineteen before the season is over, so I will go ahead and graduate.”

Boy, talk about pressure for next year. We then tried to figure out who would replace John. There were a couple of eighth-graders who played out at the club who did pretty well. This year the school had an unusual shortage of golfers, it was probably the only reason I was given a chance.

Rita Harrison was sitting at a table with her friends and wasn’t looking my way so maybe that was over, I sure hope so. I’m like any guy, I like the attention of an attractive girl, but I think she was attracted to the money and not me.

In the next study hall, I took the time to write a letter to Judy telling her of the events since Sunday night. I thought the Steve Simmons thing was really funny but maybe you had to be there to appreciate it.

I whined a little about the upcoming pep rally. I truly didn’t care for being the center of attention; little good seemed to come of it. New people attracted by my fame weren’t attracted because they liked me; it was what I could do for them. I wondered how John Wayne and Elvis handled this. I would ask Mr. Wayne the next time I saw him.

After school, I went straight home. Dad grabbed me right away. We have to get you down to Henry’s for a new suit.

“Why,” I asked.

“The pep rally they are holding Friday is a lot bigger than the normal rally. It is being held at the Holland Theater for some reason. I was called by both the Mayor and President of the County Council. They want you to look good for the presentations.”

“Presentations,” I inquired, “Mr. Gordon told me of one more trophy as Athlete of the Year for Logan County.”

“I think that may have changed a little, I’m not sure, anyway let’s get down to Wolfeins to have you fitted.”

Henry did his normal good job of fitting me. The only problem was Dad and I arguing about what fabric I should pick for the suit. Both were off the rack. One was dark blue with thin red pinstripes it even had a vest with it, the other dark blue with wide white stripes.

The wide white stripes made me think of a Chicago gangster. I didn’t want to look like Al Capone. My point, that I was the one who had to wear the suit won the day. As I told Dad if he liked the suit he should buy it for himself.

He got a faraway look; then shook his head, “Peg would never go for it.”

And he wanted me to wear it!

A new tie, white shirt which needed cuff links, a set of cuff links, new black socks, a black belt and I was good to go. Henry was a good salesman. I barely was able to get off without a set of braces, and a gold watch with a chain to hang across the front of my vest.

We just got home and the telephone rang. Mum picked it up and said, “Jackson residence.”

She listened a moment and handed the handset to me, “It’s the White House for you.”

I have a funny Mum.

I said, “Hello who is this?”