Chapter 12: Friday, Aug. 24

The sound of the alarm came way too early again. The good news was I only had to endure it one more time before life got back to something closer to normal. Of course, nothing would be completely normal until after football season, and even then there would be all kinds of college applications, SATs and other things cropping up.

I went through the morning routine of digging out clothes, getting dressed, eating enough breakfast to get me through to lunch and prepared to leave. I made sure to pack a pair of slacks and an extra shirt since Bethany wanted to get together after practice. I just hoped I’d have enough energy left by then to make it worth her while.

I made it to the fieldhouse by 5:30 and changed into my workout clothes. I’d wait until after I got taped to put on my shoulder pads, socks and cleats.

It looked like the little freshman student trainer, Stephanie, maneuvered around a few others so she’d be able to tape me up. She pretty much confirmed that with her attempt at small talk.

“Did you take good notes for Elise in Chemistry?” she asked with a blush as some of the other girls in the room tittered. I felt like I was being set up for something, but did my best to ignore it.

“I was trying to take good notes for my own benefit,” I said. “Miss Stirling or anyone else in the class is welcome to review them with me.”

“Do you have any notes left over from physical science that I could use?” she asked, her blush deepening.

Yeah, somebody was up to something. I just didn’t have time to figure out if the main target was me or Stephanie.

“The only thing I might have left from my freshman year is my yearbook,” I said. “I don’t even have any clothes from back then, let alone schoolwork. Besides, you probably have a different teacher than I had back then. The material would be all different.”

Despite her obvious embarrassment, Stephanie did a good job of wrapping my ankles quickly and securely. The titters from the other girls continued.

“Thank you, ma’am,” I said as I hopped off the table, then leaned in and spoke just above a whisper. “Don’t let the other girls push you into doing something you don’t want. Neither of us needs the aggravation just so they can get their giggles.”

If anything, the little freshman turned even redder. For a moment, I thought she was going to hyperventilate.

Coach Tucker was standing outside his office as I headed back to my locker to put on the rest of my gear. He was giving me a rather curious look.

“If you’re done flirting with pretty girls, Robinson, it’s time to get on the field,” he ordered.

Flirting? I think we had different definitions for the word. I wasn’t even thinking impure thoughts about the girl.

“Yes, sir, Coach,” I replied, finishing with my footwear and pulling the shoulder pads on.

I grabbed my helmet and headed for the field. I noticed Coach Tucker having a quiet word with Stephanie, who was blushing even more than she had with me.

Practice was practice, except for the fact that the coaches seemed to be shouting more than the other mornings this week. We worked through the scripted plays for the scrimmage with the scout team defense showing some of the looks we could expect from the Bulldogs on Saturday morning. The starting defense worked against the regular scout team offense with Scottie Pipkin at quarterback. I would be taking over that duty on Monday as we began preparing for the Bearcats.

Coach Tucker seemed a little perturbed as we ran our gassers at the end of the session, giving us little time to catch our breath after one before blowing his whistle to start the next.

“You’re going to be out in the heat tomorrow!” he shouted. “Let’s see who’s in good enough shape to handle it!”

I struggled through the last couple, falling well behind the other skill positions. I was just glad I didn’t puke or cramp up. A couple of the linemen did suffer cramps, but I didn’t hear anyone retching up their breakfast.

We huddled, receiving instructions for athletic period and the afternoon practice.

“The good news is the 6 a.m. practices are over, unless someone gives me reason to call a special one,” Coach Tucker said, still sounding somewhat pissed off at the world. “You’ve put in some good work these two weeks, but now the real work’s about to start. I expect everyone to be on time in the morning and have your minds on business, not pleasure.”

For some reason, he was looking right at me when he said the last part. I have no idea why.

We shouted “TEAM!” on three and headed in to get ready for another day of class. I showered and returned to my locker to dress. Calvin and Ronnell were both giving me sideways looks as we donned our school clothes.

“What?” I asked.

Ronnell shook his head and turned away. Calvin couldn’t resist making a comment.

“Marshawn’s right,” he grinned. “You are crazy.”

I had no idea what I’d done that was supposed to have indicated a lack of sanity, but I figured I’d be better off not pursuing the matter. I was trying to keep my nose clean, after all.

The morning classes were about what I’d expected. Pop quizzes in Economics and Western Civ, more Shakespeare in English IV. I felt pretty good about the quizzes. Everything was pretty much straight out of the book in both classes.

The athletic period was spent reviewing video of practices from the week with coaches pointing out fixable mistakes. A lot of it came down to recognizing what the defense was showing so everyone on offense would be on the same page. I assumed the defense was doing much the same thing, getting to where linebackers and secondary were reading keys correctly and adjusting accordingly.

We wrapped up with a quick review of the script for the scrimmage with position coaches making sure their respective charges knew the assignments. We’d actually take written tests on this stuff starting next week with the first game. I was curious to see how well guys could translate what was printed on paper to what they’d see on the field. It all came down to being able to recognize and react instead of taking time to think things over.

With no need for a shower, we headed for the cafeteria as soon as the bell rang. Morgan was waiting outside the locker room with a folder of paperwork to deliver to the main office. I think she was wound up as tight as the coaches in anticipation of the scrimmage. Jed had often told me that even when you were clearly superior to an opponent, there was always that niggling doubt until you were actually in the heat of battle.

“I’ll meet you in line,” she said after giving me a quick smooch. “I’ve got to drop this off.”

With another smooch, she was off to tend to her errand. I caught up with some of the other guys, receiving a few snickers as I joined them.

“Your other girlfriends are gonna be jealous,” Chuck said, drawing a few more chuckles.

“Which is why I’m having dinner with one of them tonight,” I replied.

“Elise or Stephanie?” Chuck asked, getting even more laughs. I suddenly felt like I was attending a comedy club performance.

“They seem like very nice young ladies,” I said, “but neither is anywhere close to being a girlfriend.”

“Yeah, tell them that,” Chuck said, bringing the house down.

“And tell my little sister while you’re at it,” Marshawn said, receiving his own chorus of laughter.

“Guys, I’m not looking for girlfriends,” I complained, sounding just a little whiny. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I’ve already got more than I can handle. Besides, I’d just feel creepy going out with a freshman. I’ve got a cousin who’s almost that age. It would just be weird.”

We got in line, which extended well outside the door to the serving line but appeared to be moving quickly. Jed came clanking up on his crutches, which I think he was keeping just as an excuse to have a cheerleader carry his tray again. I had seen him walking without them earlier today.

I opted for the burger line without even checking the other offerings. I was still mulling bringing lunch next week. I’d have plenty of time to make a sandwich without the morning practices necessitating being up at 5 a.m. I was eager to find out how late I’d be able to sleep next week. If it was anything like what I’d dealt with over the summer with some of the early calls for modeling assignments, it’d take a couple of days for my body clock to adjust.

Morgan caught up just as I entered the serving line, excusing herself as she cut in line ahead of several players to join me. Her arrival just seemed to be a source of further amusement for my teammates. I almost expected Jed to make another whip-crack sound.

Our regular table was still occupied by students from C lunch. Rather than wait for it to clear, I suggested we go outside, where plenty of tables were available. That turned out to be a mistake. With less people to overhear, the guys ramped up the amount of grief they were giving me.

“So you’ve got, what, three more girls chasing you?” Chuck smirked. “And this is just the second week of school. How many are going to be after you once we start playing games?”

“I would hope none,” I said. “Surely the starting left guard is a bigger catch than the guy who just holds for extra points. You guys up front have to do your job before I’ll ever get to step on the field.”

Chuck was actually quiet for a moment, but that was just because he’d taken a bite and was busy chewing. He did wait until the cheerleader carrying Jed’s tray — I think it was Libby — headed back inside to start up again.

“I’ll just follow in your wake and pick up the castoffs,” Chuck smirked.

“Be careful what you wish for,” Jed said as he took a seat. “That’s how I got into the mess I’m in.”

“But you love every minute of it,” Morgan chimed in.

“Not every minute,” Jed said. “They insist on a girls-only night at least once a week. At least they’re going for Fridays during football season.”

That got a reaction. This was the first time some of the other guys had an indication that my friend was seeing more than one girl. But any hope I had of him becoming the center of attention was dashed as he deftly redirected the spotlight back at me.

“Dude, you just can’t help getting involved with girls whose daddies could make your life hell,” he said.

The snickering from the rest of the table resumed.

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

The snickering, if anything, intensified.

“Elise and Stephanie,” Jed said.

“And Ny’Qesha,” Marshawn added. “If Pop won’t do it, I will.”

Great. Even if I didn’t have fire and brimstone called down upon me, there was always the prospect of getting trucked in practice.

“OK, I said. “I know Dr. Stirling and Dr. Taylor. What am I missing about Stephanie?”

The guys erupted in loud guffaws. There was some kind of joke here that I obviously was not getting.

“You really don’t know, do you?” Chuck laughed.

I just shook my head, causing even more laughter. Morgan patted my arm as if I was a slow child.

“What?” I asked.

The laughter increased even more as guys shook their heads, looking like they were embarrassed to be in my company.

“You ain’t just crazy,” Marshawn said. “You ingnernt, too.”

“Well, why don’t you enlighten me?” I said.

“Do you even know Stephanie’s last name?” Jed asked.

“It’s never come up,” I said. “She’s taped my ankles a few times and that’s the only contact we’ve had.”

The head shaking and snickering continued. Morgan finally took pity on me and let me in on the joke. I wish she’d just put a bullet in the back of my head.

“It’s Stephanie Tucker,” she said with a wicked grin. “She’s Coach Tucker’s daughter.”

Oh. Fuck.

I just sat there stunned as the laughter echoed throughout the courtyard. I had no words for what I was feeling.

“And she’s crushing on you pretty hard,” Morgan added, still grinning. “You’re all she talked about last Saturday after media day.”

No wonder Coach jumped my ass for talking to the girl.

“There’s nothing to worry about,” I finally said. “I’m not even thinking of trying anything with her. I hope Coach realizes that.”

“Yeah, but he knows your reputation,” Morgan said. “He’s talked with several fathers of girls you’ve been involved with.”

“Like who?” I asked.

“Coach Bennett,” Jed burped.

“George Patterson,” Chuck chimed in. “Dr. Stirling.”

“Pop,” Marshawn said.

“Daddy,” Morgan added.

I could only hope that all those men noted that I’d never done anything to pressure their daughters. I’d done nothing more than talk briefly with three of those girls. Every one of the girls — and women — I’d been with had made the first move.

“I swear there’s nothing going on,” I said, relating events from that morning in the training room. “All I did was tell her to not let the other girls push her into something she didn’t want.”

“Oh, she wants,” Morgan asserted.

“It probably would have helped if you hadn’t been whispering in her ear,” Jed said.

“I wasn’t whispering in her ear,” I protested.

“It sure looked that way to Coach,” Jed claimed.

I just shook my head.

“Do I have to buy a front-page ad in the paper stating that I’m not pursuing any of these girls?” I asked, not expecting a response, especially the one I got.

“TV would have better penetration,” Morgan chirped. “You’d have to chose which channels to run it on depending on who you want to target, the girls or their parents.”

“I don’t think Coach watches TV during the season,” Chuck said with a maniacal grin. “Maybe you should do a mass email or text message.”

I was saved from further torment when the bell rang. I grabbed my backpack and went to dispose of my tray. I never thought I’d be so glad to go take an algebra test.

I somewhat surprised myself with my ability to focus on the test. Thoughts of Stephanie Tucker didn’t enter my head until after I’d checked my work and handed it in. I almost pulled out my book to do more problems just to drive them out.

OK, so the girl was cute, pretty even. Forget the fact that she was Coach Tucker’s daughter, she was a FRESHMAN! She still wore braces, for cryin’ out loud! If I wanted to get into that scene, I would have taken the Home Ec I class instead of Creative Writing.

I’d be better off taking my chances with Ny’Quesha Taylor. Marshawn could only hit me once at a time. Coach Tucker would probably strap me to a blocking sled and turn Coach Bennett and that herd of elephants masquerading as offensive linemen loose on me.

And forget Elise Stirling. I really would have to transfer to Buchanan if her dad thought I was tagging her. There’s no way in hell, heaven or on earth he’d hand me a diploma next May if that was the case.

I was still wallowing in my misery when the bell rang. Time to head across the hall and take notes for a girl who I absolutely was not trying to get on her back.

We worked a number of problems out of the book in Chemistry. It wasn’t quite a pop quiz, but it ate up most of the period.

I made sure to copy everything down for Elise just in case she needed to catch up upon her return to class. I just hoped she wasn’t one of those girls who’d flirt a little bit in the expectation I’d do all her work for her. I had enough on my plate right now.

When the bell rang, I hit my locker and made sure I had everything I’d need. I’d been right about one thing — the teachers dumped a load of homework on us for the weekend. I at least had reading assignments in every class with actual work to do in Economics and Algebra II. I was barely able to lift my backpack even with all the weight training I was doing.

Mrs. Cohen gave us a break on the homework front. We just had to write 500 words in class. The subjects were assigned by a blind draw, but I got one that was easy enough. First, it was something I knew a little about, then there was a wealth of material online that could be used. The kicker was we couldn’t just copy and paste. We had to rewrite the information ‘in our own voice.’

I typed furiously on my laptop, partly because every third or fourth key stroke was backspace to correct a typo. I also made regular use of the Control-Z function. Once I went back and corrected all the rest of my mistakes, I made sure Mrs. Cohen had my file and began packing up. Rather than trust the school’s email, she had us save our files onto a thumb drive she passed around just for that purpose.

Another bell meant another mad dash to the fieldhouse, this time with an overloaded backpack. I was glad the softball coach allowed us to cut between the ballparks, but I still got the feeling that beings with Y chromosomes were better off maintaining a safe distance from the woman.

I changed into my football pants and UnderArmour shirt before heading to get taped. We were going in full pads even though Coach Tucker had said there would be “limited contact” this afternoon. It would be more than a walkthrough, but he didn’t want anyone getting banged up before the scrimmage.

It may have just been my imagination, but it looked like Stephanie was avoiding me this afternoon. She stayed on the opposite side of the room the entire time I was in there. In fact, all the girl trainers stayed away from me as one of the guys taped me up.

After getting taped, I finished dressing out and hit the field. Practice was pretty much what Coach Tucker had told us to expect. After position drills, we went through the scripted plays at full speed, but without tackling. Coaches were quick to whistle plays dead before much hitting could occur.