Chapter 51: Tuesday, Oct. 2

I wasn’t thrilled when the alarm went off 15 minutes earlier than normal, but it was nothing compared to Kacie’s reaction.

“Turn that thing OFF!” she commanded, an arm flailing dangerously close to my nose.

The alarm beeped a couple more times as I struggled to reach over my sister, but I managed to whack the kill button before she did me any harm. I crawled out of bed and grabbed the gym shorts I was planning to wear to go do my running. Kacie was back asleep before I even pulled them on. If she’d ever been awake to begin with.

After washing my face and brushing my teeth, I completed dressing in a T-shirt and running shoes, then packed the clothes I’d wear for class in my little gym bag. I included a pair of loafers, thinking I could leave the running shoes to air out in the fieldhouse.

Grabbing my backpack, I headed to the kitchen to get a little something to get me through the next hour or so. I didn’t want to risk puking up a full meal and would try to grab something more substantial from the cafeteria when I finished running. I settled for a cup of yogurt, grabbing the first one on the shelf, and a banana with the obligatory glass of pineapple juice.

Dad staggered in looking for caffeine as I was cleaning up. He was supposed to be having breakfast with George Patterson and school district officials to discuss a response to last night’s paparazzi invasion.

“At least you have the decency to get up early, too,” he muttered as he waited on the coffee machine. “I shouldn’t be the only one to suffer because of this.”

“At least you aren’t going to be running 50 gassers,” I shot back. “That comes to a little over 5½ miles. Then I get to go to class.”

“Can you finish that many before school?” he asked as Mom came in with a decidedly more chipper disposition.

“I’ll have to push the pace,” I said. “My plan is to get at least 30 and do the rest during athletics or after practice tonight.”

“Just make sure you don’t wear yourself out before your test,” Mom said. “I’ll be very displeased if you fall asleep in class and get a bad grade.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said, gathering my bags. “I’d better get going.”

It was still dark as I drove to school, but there was a pink glow in the east when I pulled into the senior lot. A look at my phone showed it was a little before 6:30. They didn’t even have the lights at the practice field turned on yet.

Fortunately, the fieldhouse was open as the coaches prepared for the freshman practice. I dumped my bags and phone at my locker and went out to begin the latest round of punishment. I briefly sent dirty thoughts toward Chuck for talking me into leaving campus early for lunch yesterday, which led Mrs. Montero to issue her punishment, which led to Coach Tucker issuing more gassers because I could have gotten more detention. But the fact that Mrs. Montero’s punishment was actually something I wanted to happen kind of made it a futile exercise.

After stretching a little, I jogged a bit more than half a lap around to the far side of the field. That should put me out of the way of the freshmen. It was almost light enough to see the field stripes when someone turned on the lights. With no reason to wait, I got started.

I figured if I averaged 45 seconds per gasser, I could knock out all 50 in less than 40 minutes. That didn’t include rest breaks, but I hoped I was in good enough shape by now that I wouldn’t need them as much as when I first started running with Jed back in May.

I had eight down before the freshman practice started and was on my second set of 10 when Coach Wilson came out. He didn’t say anything, just stood off to the side with a stopwatch in his hand.

The sun finally crested the horizon as I reached 35. That should mean I had about 40 minutes to get to my first-period class. I pushed on and finished all 50 in another 10 minutes. Coach Wilson called out to me as I was about to head inside to shower and dress.

“You were right on a six-minute mile pace for nearly four miles straight,” he said. “That’d be about 37 minutes for a 10K, not bad for high school. Think you can cut that down to about 5:15 per for 3,200 meters? That’d probably be good enough to place at the district track meet, maybe even advance to the next round.”

“I wouldn’t even know,” I gasped.

“We can talk about it later,” he said. “You ought to pick up several seconds without all the stoppin’ and turnin’ and you’d run faster with someone to push ya. We only had eight in the 3,200 at district last spring and the top four advance. You’d better go get ready for class.”

“Get ‘em all, Robinson?” Coach Tucker asked as I passed near him.

“Yes, sir,” I said. “And still have time for a shower and some breakfast.”

“Better get on it,” he said. “What did Coach Wilson want?”

“Points in the 3,200 at the district meet next spring,” I smirked. “He hasn’t given up on me running track. We’ll see how things go. I’ve got to live that long first.”

The head coach just snorted and resumed observing the freshman practice.

A cool shower left me feeling much better and I still had nearly 25 minutes to swing by the cafeteria and my locker. Two biscuits with sausage, egg and cheese and a pint of chocolate milk should be enough to hold me until lunch. If not, I wouldn’t be the only one battling hunger pangs in athletics.

I made one biscuit disappear almost before I was past the checkout stand and consumed the other on the way to dispose of the tray I was forced to carry my food on. School rule. I didn’t pretend to understand it. The milk was downed before I passed the last trash can.

I didn’t receive an undue amount of attention as I made my way to my locker. I guess not everyone had heard the news from last night yet. I was pretty sure that would change. And it did when I reached my locker, just not for the reason I expected.

Morgan, Bethany, Kacie and Staci were waiting for me. Three looked rather upset, while Morgan was barely able to contain her amusement.

“We’re mad at you,” Staci pouted prettily as Morgan stifled a laugh.

“What did I do this time?” I asked warily as I opened my locker and began getting what I would need for the morning classes.

“You got yourself kicked out of Homecoming and it sounds like you did it on purpose,” Bethany accused, pouting just as prettily. “I was hoping to dance with the Homecoming king.”

“You’ve ignored all Sherry’s phone calls,” Staci chimed in. “She’s been in a panic because she wants to make sure you get her mum to her before Friday. And I was also hoping to dance with the Homecoming king.”

“You set your alarm too early and then ate the last strawberry yogurt,” Kacie charged, her pout more grumpy than pretty but still rather pretty. “I had to eat peach this morning. You know I hate peach.”

I just stared at the three who claimed to be mad at me while Morgan was almost doubled over behind them, her shoulders shaking hard. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she was having a seizure.

“OK, starting from the top,” I said. “First, I did not intentionally get kicked out of Homecoming. I left campus before the end of fourth period yesterday and Mrs. Montero removed me from the ballot as punishment. I admit I was considering doing something if I got elected. I did not want to risk having to do the spotlight dance with Kelli. And I’ll see what I can do about getting you a dance with whoever wins.

“Second, I turned my phone off and left it in the fieldhouse while I was running the 50 gassers Coach Tucker gave me for getting in trouble with Mrs. Montero. I probably won’t be able to check messages until lunch. But, as you can see, I’ve got Sherry’s mum right here in my locker. There’s still three days to get it to her.

“Third, I am truly sorry for taking the last strawberry yogurt. I just grabbed a cup without even looking. It was barely 6 o’clock and I’m not sure I was even awake enough to know what flavor I was eating. I’ll mention to Mom to get at least as much strawberry as peach before she goes grocery shopping again. Anything else?”

“What about the alarm?” Kacie demanded petulantly.

“I wanted to get up early enough I could get all the gassers done before school instead of having to stay after practice,” I said.

“He’s telling the truth,” Bethany whispered to Staci. “It didn’t do it.”

“If you’ll excuse me,” I said as I checked my bag to make sure I had everything, “I really need to hit the restroom before the bell rings.”

“Right there!” Morgan shrieked triumphantly as she pointed at my face. “That’s how you can tell he’s lying! He doesn’t need to go, he just wants to escape!”

I was beginning to think they weren’t mad at me at all. They just wanted to show Staci how they could tell if I was lying. OK, Kacie was probably genuinely perturbed. The early alarm was bad enough, but she really does detest peach yogurt.

“It’s a good thing the time and place are all wrong, otherwise one of you’d be over my knee right now,” I growled, fixing the Fearsome Foursome with my best stare. I was pretty sure there were a couple of nostril flares. “You’d better get to your home rooms. Don’t forget to vote for Marshawn Taylor.”

“So when will you put me over your knee?” Bethany cooed teasingly.

“Get!” I commanded, taking a swat at her shapely rump. She didn’t try to dodge and I made solid contact, causing the little blonde to yelp in surprise.

Four giggling girls scurried off as the first bell sounded, Bethany rubbing a spot on her left buttock. I could only hope no faculty members witnessed our encounter. I wasn’t so lucky when it came to my teammates who had lockers in the area.

“How do you do that?” Luke Riley asked, not for the first time, as Jed and Hunter Reynolds tried unsuccessfully to suppress laughter.

“Just doing what needs to be done,” I said, shouldering my bag. “If I let them, they’d run all over me. C’mon, let’s go vote for Marshawn.”

We made it to Mrs. Rittenberry’s room in the West Wing before the tardy bell and then had to sit through the morning announcements. One advised students to inform a teacher or campus police officer if they encountered any strangers who claimed to be looking for a student. My name wasn’t mentioned, but my teammates cast me a quick glance. I was just glad none of the other students seemed to be aware of the situation.

After that was all done, Mrs. Rittenberry handed out ballots and explained the voting process. While candidates from all four classes were listed, seniors were only supposed to vote for king and queen. We were supposed to mark four boys and four girls. The boy and girl with the most marks would be the royalty with the next three of each gender princes and princesses. The other classes voted for their representatives in addition to the royalty.

I thought it odd that Mrs. Rittenberry emphatically made the point that write-ins would not be accepted, looking at me as she did. It’s not like I was planning to vote for Mickey and Minnie Mouse.

The first thing I did was make sure my name was indeed not on the ballot. Looks like Mrs. Montero did her part, if unaware that it actually benefited me. The next thing I noticed was there was only one junior girl listed — Sherry Parker. I couldn’t even imagine how much trouble the cheerleaders must have gone to for that to happen. I just hoped Sherry was able to make it through the pregame ceremony after undergoing treatment all week. I doubted she’d hang around for the halftime show where the entire court would be introduced again.

Getting back to the task at hand, I quickly made a mark next to Marshawn’s name, then scanned the list of other candidates. I was surprised to see my buddy Eddie Galvan was on there, nominated by the Spanish Club. I hadn’t even seen him in the hallways since school started and we were in the eighth week of the school year. I’d have to try to get in touch with him one of these days. That was an easy choice for my vote.

My other two choices were the baseball player and one of Kacie’s drama buddies. The ballplayer had hit eight home runs in 30 games last spring. Extrapolate that over a 162-game major league schedule, he would’ve had 43 dingers. Guys who could do that easily made eight figures a year. As for the drama dude, I didn’t really care which way he swung. It was more a nod to my sister than anything.

The list of girls took a little more thought, but not much. Elise was an easy choice — how could I not vote for my lab partner? — as was Isabella Quiñones, one of Kacie’s bandmates. The other two, though ... No way I was voting for Kelli, even if I wouldn’t have to dance with her. I was about to just mark two names when I noticed Zoe Yeats at the bottom of the list. She’d been nominated by the Math Club. That left one more and I just stabbed blindly, hitting some girl named Abigail Davis from the Home Ec Club.

All that took me less time than Mrs. Rittenberry spent explaining things at the start. Unfortunately, I was forced to sit there until the bell. The clock on the wall showed we’d been in here almost 15 minutes. Mrs. Rittenberry finally called for the stragglers to turn their ballots in. You’d have thought they were taking a trig test or something the way a few of them looked.

At the bell, I got out of there as quickly as possible, but not before Mrs. Rittenberry got her shot in.

“Maybe now you’ll pay a little more attention to the rules,” she sneered.

“I’m going to be busy enough Friday night,” I said, getting out the door before she could respond.

“That was hard!” I heard a girl whine behind me. “I had six friends on the ballot and could only vote for four. I hope Robyn and Ella don’t find out!”

Which I was sure they would now that she’d opened her mouth.

I cut through the courtyard on the way to Mr. Cochran’s room in the East Wing. That allowed me to avoid the massive traffic jam in the hallways for most of the journey.

Since the home room took up so much of first period, the Economics teacher just assigned us problems out of the book to be turned in before the bell and let us get to work. I got through all but the last couple before running out of time.

The rumor mill finally caught up to me as I headed for Western Civ. The same girl who’d chastised me more than a month ago for mistreating Holly Moseley came up to me with fire in her eyes.

“You ought to have your balls cut off!” she hissed as she came near.

“Feel free to try,” I shot back, looking her right in the eyes.

The girl blanched and made a hasty departure.

“Dude, you need to save that look for games,” Chuck Edwards snarked as he passed by. “I think that gal needs to change her panties now. Looked like ya scared the piss outta her!”

I snorted and continued on to my next class. Mrs. Edwards handed back the tests we’d taken yesterday and began reviewing them. I’d made a 96 and had a little note that my answers were well written. I doubt she’d think that if I’d taken the test longhand. At least I made it through the class with no mention of Lela.

That changed when I walked into Mrs. Albracht’s room.

“There’s that Chad,” the teacher smirked.

“I might think that was funny if I knew what a Chad was,” I sighed as I headed for my seat.

“It’s not exactly a compliment, from what I understand,” Mrs. Albracht said. “Ready to show me what your aunt thinks of ‘The Taming of the Shrew?’”

“Never got to talk to her,” I said. “That little fiasco last night kept me from having time to call her. This will be all me.”

Mrs. Albracht took roll as soon as the bell rang and immediately after started passing out the test to those not taking the digital option. I noticed more people in this class — something close to three quarters — opted for the PDF. The good part was she proceeded quickly enough no one else had a chance to ask about last night.

I did my best to channel Aunt Karen, but felt I was doing pretty well on my own. I stayed with the view a guy should treat women with kindness and respect no matter if they were romantically entangled. That sounded rather hypocritical in light of how I’d treated a few females this morning, but Mrs. Albracht didn’t need to know that. I posited that Petruchio may have won in the end, but he should probably avoid making stupid bets. I also threw in a bit about how the play could be considered misogynistic by modern sensibilities. That ought to score me some brownie points with the teacher, at least.

I wrapped things up, hit spellcheck, made a few corrections and saved the file to a thumb drive. It took Mrs. Albracht a few seconds to transfer onto her computer. Apparently, I had quite a few files saved on the drive that she had to search through. She advised me to change the settings to show files by latest saved instead of alphabetically.

Athletics went well enough. There was a bit of a hullabaloo around the bulletin board in the hallway. Both us and the Cougars had moved closer to the top 10 in the state poll. They were now second among others receiving votes, which I guess made them No. 12, after thrashing the Badgers. We were two spots further down the list, but had cut the gap between us by more than half.

Next to that clipping was one with the current district standings, last week’s results and this week’s games. The Hawks had beat the Tigers and the Cardinals had beat the Bears. None of the four games had been closer than 24 points. Based on that, there should still be a four-way tie at the top since all of last week’s winners were playing one of last week’s losers. I wondered if the Hawks and Cardinals, who both had home games, would also be doing Homecoming this week.

We did our lower-body workout quickly and reported for film study. I thought if anything, the Tigers were worse than the Lions. I don’t know how good they might have been without the injuries, but I doubted the situation would have been much different.

The biggest thing I noticed was how few players they had. Where we suited up 85 players, the Tigers had maybe 40. Coach Tucker pointed out how many of their guys played both ways, which was almost unheard of at our level. If nothing else, our superior depth ought to make the difference. Of course, our superior talent would be more of a factor. It looked like another short night for the starters.

After a quick wash, I dressed and waited for the bell. I had no desire to get busted again this week. The downside of that was several of my teammates took that as an opportunity to dig for more details. They seemed disappointed that I knew nothing more than I did last night.

Marshawn also seemed put out, but for more reasons than me being suspected of impregnating Lela.

“Bad enough what ya did in practice yesterday,” he said, “but this whole Homecomin’ deal ain’t gonna work. Pop gives me enough lectures about stayin’ humble. I don’t need him gettin’ on me ‘bout this, too.”

“Look at it as an opportunity to show the good reverend how humble you can be,” I said. “What’s the worst thing that can happen? Having to do the spotlight dance Saturday night? At least ya know it’ll be with a pretty girl. Besides, you may not even win.”

“Yeah, well, I find out you really did get that girl pregnant, I will bring the pain!” Marshawn growled. “You already got too many girlfriends.”

“Nothing to worry about there,” I said. “I never even got close with her. Her mother was watching her like a hawk and let me know I wasn’t acceptable.”

We headed for the cafeteria when the bell rang, Morgan hooking an arm almost as soon as I was out the door. The line wasn’t too terribly bad when we arrived and I hit the burger line. I just didn’t feel like meatloaf after the way Monday had gone. No sense in tempting the gods or whatever was causing Tuesdays to be so weird.

The gods still had to have their fun, though. Benny Tanaka and Wil Hutchins, the stat geeks, joined our table instead of taking their usual spots with the rest of the nerds. They immediately launched into a routine they must have been rehearsing all morning.

“Is that a Chad?” Benny asked as they came near.

“Oy, he’s a real beauty,” Wil chimed in with an over-exaggerated attempt at an Australian accent, reminding me of a guy who used to have a nature show on one of the cable channels. “You rarely see them outside their natural habitats, the gym and the discotheque.”

Great. Now I’m catching shit from nerds. I just bit my tongue and remained silent.

“I can’t believe it,” Benny said excitedly. “A wild Chad!”

“And that’s not just any Chad,” Wil continued in the Aussie accent, “that’s the ultimate Chad!”

“The MegaChad.”

“The GigaChad.”

“The EFFIN’ REDNECK CHAD!!!” they declared in unison, causing my teammates and several students at nearby tables to laugh uproariously.

“Y’all need to settle down over there!” one of the teachers on lunchroom duty called out. “Especially you, Robinson.”

What. The. Fuck? I hadn’t said a word!

“Real funny, guys,” I groused as the laughter subsided. “Y’all think that up all by yourselves?”

“Relax,” Morgan said, patting me on the arm. “They’re just having a little harmless fun.”

“Since you seem to be the experts on the subject,” I directed at the geeks, who were grinning like fools after successfully pulling off their stunt, “wanna explain just what a Chad is? The only other time I heard the term was in history class. I’m pretty sure this isn’t about Florida election results.”

“I take it you don’t get on Reddit,” Wil said, dropping the accent.

“I try not to go swimming in cesspools,” I said.

“Good idea,” Benny said. “Basically, a Chad is an alpha male.”

“An oversexed, hypermasculine alpha male,” Wil said, drawing snickers from my teammates.

“I’ve heard it’s not a compliment,” I said.

“On some forums, like the incel subreddit, it was used as a slur,” Wil said. “They shut that one down last year, but a similar one popped up in its place. From what I’ve heard, they could both get pretty nasty.”

“And what’s incel?” I asked.

“Involuntarily celibate,” Benny smirked. “A bunch of losers who blame Chads for hogging all the women, preventing the incels from being able to develop relationships.”

“Well, Gary does have more than his share of girlfriends,” Chuck cracked, earning a smattering of laughs.

“But I’m not keeping any of the rest of y’all from having one or more of your own,” I shot back. “From what Wil and Benny say, almost the entire roster is Chads.”

“Yeah, ain’t no way Supermodel’s more masculine than me,” Marshawn cracked, flexing and kissing a biceps. “All the ladies want a taste of perfection.”

“Remember to stay humble, Marshawn,” I said. “I don’t think you want Mac Davis for your theme song.”

“Who’s Mac Davis?” he asked.

“A singer-songwriter who had a few hits in the ‘70s and ‘80s,” I said. “He wrote several songs for Elvis before making it on his own. One of his last hits was a novelty song that would be perfect for ya.”

“And that is?”

“Oh, Lord, it’s hard to be humble,” I smirked, “when you’re perfect in every way. I can’t wait to look in the mirror, ‘cause I get better lookin’ each day. To know me is to love me. I must be a helluva man. Oh, Lord, it’s hard to be humble, but I’m doin’ the best that I can.”

The outburst of laughter drew another rebuke from a teacher, but even Marshawn was smiling.

“That’s pretty good, but there ain’t no way I’m havin’ a redneck cracker theme song,” the linebacker snorted. “Now I’m really gonna have to bring the pain in practice.”

“Save it for Friday night,” I said. “You can kick their ass and take their girlfriends, you Chad.”

There was still plenty of time before the bell as we disposed of our trays and trash. Several guys needed to visit their lockers, the restroom or both before fifth period.

I’d just hugged Morgan farewell and grabbed my backpack when some girl wearing too much makeup walked up with a mischievous gleam in her eye. She looked like an escapee from a Britney Spears video. The micromini reminded me of the chauffeurs Arlene and I had in California and definitely violated the school dress code. As did the too-tight, midriff-baring blouse tied under an ample bosom with plenty of cleavage and the lacy trim of an expensive bra on display. She was even wearing saddle shoes and knee socks. All that was missing was the pigtails.

Even if she had an ID hanging around her neck, there was no way this chick was still in high school. Most girls around here didn’t get boob jobs until after graduation. I also noticed her dye job needed a touchup. Her roots were showing.

“You’re Gary, right?” she purred as she stepped dangerously close with those boobs.

It looked like the one button holding the blouse closed was about to give way. I could only hope to be at a safe distance when that happened.

“Yes,” I said cautiously, trying mightily to maintain eye contact. “What can I do for you?”

“I need some help with World History,” she said. “Mrs. McCorkle said you were the guy to ask. She said you were one of her best students last year.”

If I thought this gal was up to something before, that pretty much clinched it. I didn’t take World History last year and hadn’t had a Mrs. McCorkle when I did. I was pretty sure we didn’t even have anyone by that name on the faculty. A quick glance down showed something was off with her ID, as well. But the tits were nice.

“Sure,” I said firmly as feral grin began creeping across my face. “I think I have something in my locker you’ll find useful. Maybe we can get together after school to go over it, Miss...?”

“Oh, Paige,” she giggled, holding out a hand daintily, unwittingly showing her nicotine stains as I took it. “Paige Turner. I just transferred in.”

Morgan, who’d delayed her departure when she saw what was going on, stood a few feet away giving me a bug-eyed look. I threw her a quick wink, knowing that we would be discussing this later.

“If you’ll follow me, Miss Turner,” I said, coming dangerously close to Morgan’s too-sweet tone. “My locker’s in the North Wing.”

“Paige, please,” she giggled.

“So, how long have you been in town?” I asked casually as we made our way to the main building.

“Yesterday was my first day,” she said. “I’m still learning my way around.”

“Well, if you have any questions, feel free to ask me,” I said, wondering how long we could maintain our respective charades. For my part, it was just a matter of stringing her along for a couple more minutes.

“Is it true you’re dating six girls?” she asked, causing me to snort. I guess I should push this Chad thing for all it was worth.

“Is it that many?” I smirked. “I haven’t been keeping count. I just happen to have several friends who just happen to be girls who like to go out and do things together. I guess you can call those dates if you want.”

“I heard you’re on the football team,” she continued, sounding more like a reporter than a schoolgirl. “What position do you play?”

“I’m listed as a slot receiver,” I said, “but I mostly just hold for extra points and do a couple of other things on special teams.”

I’d intentionally directed our route away from my locker and toward the main office while she continued to pepper me with questions about my high school life. It sounded like she had a prepared list, but she never mentioned modeling or Lela. As we approached the door, I put the next part of my evil plan into action.

“Excuse me, I need to step in here for just a second,” I said.

I held the door, getting another giggle as she entered ahead of me, then made sure I blocked the doorway as the door closed behind me. By a stroke of luck, Mrs. Montero was at the counter engaged in conversation with one of the office ladies. The interim principal gave me a sour look when she noticed me.

“What can I do for you, young man?” she snapped, struggling to maintain a civil tone.

“Just wanted to notify you of the presence of an unauthorized person on campus,” I said, causing Paige Turner to whirl around with a shocked look on her face. “I don’t know what media outlet she represents.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” the girl exclaimed. “I’m a student!”

“With a fake student ID,” I smirked.

“How do you know it’s fake?” Mrs. Montero demanded as she began making her way over.

“She said this was just her second day here,” I said. “That’s pretty fast for a new student to get their ID. Besides, the font’s all wrong and the photo’s too big. I bet if you check, there’s no magnetic strip on the back, either.”

“Someone call Chief Baxter,” the interim principal commanded.

Paige, if that was her real name, tried to make a break for it, but I had the nearest exit blocked. When she bolted for the door at the other end of the office, I wrapped her around the waist and held on. Unfortunately, that button didn’t. At least she was wearing a bra.

“Let me go!” she wailed as I tried to keep out of the way of flailing arms and legs.

“What’s goin’ on here?” Mr. Dunwoody roared as he came around a corner. “Robinson! Shoulda known you’d be up ta somethin.’ Let the girl go!”