Chapter 52: Wednesday, Oct. 3

I actually woke up before the alarm went off. Kacie was snuggled close and it took a while to extract myself and get out of bed without disturbing her too much.

I went ahead and killed the alarm before hitting the bathroom. I returned to get dressed as Kacie continued to slumber. It was now after 6:30 and I risked my sister’s wrath by shaking her awake.

“You might ought to get up if you’re going to make it to school on time,” I said quietly.

Kacie grumbled and stretched before rolling over. I think she was almost back asleep before my words penetrated her brain.

“You should have woken me up!” she cried as she bolted out of bed.

“I just did,” I smirked, dodging out of her way.

“You should have done it earlier,” she tossed over her shoulder. “I’m going to be late!”

I just shook my head, grabbed my backpack and headed to the kitchen. One day, it was my fault the alarm went off too early. The next, it was my fault she overslept. And there was no doubt it was all my fault. I had the Y chromosome, I was wrong.

Mom and Dad were finishing up as I fixed a bowl of cereal and poured a glass of pineapple juice. I think I was becoming addicted to the stuff after nearly five months of daily doses. Or maybe I was addicted to receiving blowjobs.

“Is your sister up?” Mom asked as I set my breakfast on the table.

“Barely,” I said. “She was just getting into the bathroom when I came in here.”

“She’s going to be late for school if she doesn’t hurry,” Mom grumbled. “I swear, that girl could sleep through a tornado.”

“Did you get your running done?” Dad asked.

“Yes, sir,” I said. “Coach Wilson seemed impressed. He said I maintained a steady six-minute mile pace for nearly four miles.

“Which one’s Coach Wilson?” Mom asked.

“The receivers coach,” I said, “but he’s also the boys track coach. He seems to think I could fill a spot in distance races next spring.”

“You going to do it?” Dad asked.

“Maybe,” I said after swallowing a spoonful. “Track workouts don’t start until February. I’ve got plenty of time to think about it.”

“You boys need to get moving,” Mom said. “It’s after 7. I’d better go make sure Kacie’s getting ready. She doesn’t need to skip breakfast again.”

Dad and I headed toward our vehicles together. He wasn’t done with the questions.

“What’s this I hear about you ripping a girl’s shirt off in front of the principal?” he asked once we were safely away from Mom. “I’d think that would’ve gotten you expelled.”

“That’s not what happened,” I said, launching into the Paige Turner tale for what I hoped was the last time.

“Wish I’d been there to see that,” Dad snorted when I got to the part about her blouse bursting open.

“Ask Dunwoody,” I said. “He got a better look than I did. I was behind the girl when it happened.”

“Well, try to stay out of trouble for once,” Dad said. “At least don’t disrobe any more girls in public.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” I said as I unlocked my Beemer.

Since Dad had to wait for the garage door to open, I had enough time to back out and get out of his way. I’d just pulled onto the street when my phone rang. It was Sherry Parker.

“Good morning,” I said as the call connected to the car’s Bluetooth.

“Morning,” Sherry said, sounding tired. “I saw your text when I woke up. You sure waited long enough to get back to me.”

“I had to do some extra running before school yesterday,” I said as I pulled out of the subdivision. “I left my phone in the fieldhouse and didn’t have a chance to turn it back on until after football practice.”

“Did you get my mum?” she asked.

“Hanging in my locker waiting to be delivered,” I said. “I wanted to make sure someone would be home before I drove over there.”

“Daddy will be home by about 6:30 tonight,” Sherry said. “You can leave it with him.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I said. “How are you getting along?”

“I’m hanging in there, but these last couple of days have been pretty rough,” she said. “I stayed here at the hospital last night and Mom thinks I should stay over the next couple of nights so I can rest more. I’ve got a busy weekend.”

“Oh?”

“The student council president called last night to tell me I’m going to be the Homecoming duchess!” she said, perking up noticeably. “Mom’s going to look for a dress today while I’m in treatment. I’ll have to miss the pep rally, but I’ll be at the stadium for the pregame ceremony. We’ll just have to see if I can make it through halftime.”

“You do what you need to do,” I said. “Don’t push yourself too hard.”

“Yeah, I’ll need to save a little something for Saturday,” she said mysteriously.

“What’s happening Saturday?” I asked without thinking.

“I’m going to the dance with you, dummy,” Sherry said with a hint of exasperation. “All the Homecoming court has to be there for the spotlight dance. And I expect to dance with you on the next song. The StuCo president promised it’d be a slow song.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” I said. “What time should I pick you up?”

“I’ll need to check with Staci first,” Sherry said. “She said we’d need to do a little shopping early Saturday so our outfits will coordinate.”

That reminded me I was supposed to have a shopping excursion with Staci at some point this week. My schedule was starting to get rather full with that and whatever developed with the postgame meal. And I still had three days of school to get through.

“I’d better let you go,” Sherry said. “They’ll be here in a minute to take me to treatment.”

“All right,” I said as I turned toward school. “I’ll see you Friday night.”

“Bye,” Sherry said, pausing just a tick before continuing. “Love you.”

The call disconnected before I could react. I somehow managed not to cause a wreck with all the morning traffic. That made, what, eight females who’d declared their love for me? And this from a girl I’d taken on exactly one date that ended early. OK, there were the times I’d given her a ride to school, but we’d never even made out, although she’d planted several kisses on me.

I’d actually had more interaction — and a longer date — with Stephanie Tucker. I shuddered to think how Coach might react if she also professed to love me.

I remembered Mrs. Montero’s line about the situation getting entirely ought of hand. We might be talking about different situations, but the assessment was the same.

And the thought of Mrs. Montero reminded me of my conversation with Morgan on the ride home last night. It all left me in a very weird mood as I pulled into my assigned parking spot in the senior lot.

I was at least able to keep it together enough to hit the StuCo store on my way to my locker. I needed to buy my tickets for Saturday’s dance now that I knew how many dates I’d be taking.

There were again two lines backed up at the counter when I arrived, a very long line of guys who’d waited until the last minute to order mums and a shorter one that was handling everything else. A third line was started to accommodate those purchasing dance tickets, which allowed me to get much closer to the front. The new line was being manned by the sophomore who’d waited on me twice now.

When I got close enough to the counter, I could see a little sign listing options for the tickets — solo tickets for one price and couples tickets that were just a little less than double the cost of a solo. The cost of both would be a couple of dollars higher at the door. I checked my wallet to make sure I had enough cash on me and decided on my purchase.

“Two couples tickets, please,” I said when it was my turn.

The kid grinned knowingly as he reached for the appropriate stack.

“I’d’ve thought you’d need at least three based on the number of mums you bought,” he snickered as he accepted my cash.

“I’m getting one for a friend,” I said, thankful Morgan wasn’t around to call me out for lying. “He has a habit of waiting until it’s too late, then complains about having to pay more at the door.”

“Remember that Saturday night in case anyone asks,” the kid smirked. “We’ve been lectured about who we sell couples tickets to. Apparently, one of the church groups in town threw a fit last spring when a bunch of girls bought couples tickets for prom. They weren’t happy we were allowing same-sex couples to attend a school function. Turned out the girls weren’t even lesbians. They just wanted to go to prom and were tired of waiting for guys to ask them.”

“I vaguely remember that,” I said. “At least it wasn’t a bunch of boys trying it.”

“Nah, all the gay boys just buy solo tickets to avoid the hassle,” the kid said before leaning close with a conspiratorial glint. “I’ll be working the entry table. Get in my line and I’ll make sure you all get in without causing trouble.”

“Thanks for the tip,” I said as I slipped the tickets into a hip pocket. “I’ll see you Saturday.”

There was enough time to hit my locker and get what I needed for the morning classes. We should get our writing assignments back in Economics since we’d have the full period today.

Western Civ would start a new section of the book after the test on Machiavelli, but Mrs. Edwards had been known to depart from the syllabus and jump around instead of following a linear timeline. She said it made us have to think more.

English IV should be reviewing yesterday’s test, maybe start on the next item Mrs. Albracht had on her list. Whatever it was would be something we could cover quickly. She was going on maternity leave when fall break started following the end of school on Oct. 12. I still hadn’t heard if Aunt Karen had agreed to fill in or not.

After giving it some thought, I put the dance tickets in my wallet. I briefly considered putting them in my backpack, but that pretty much guaranteed I’d forget about them by Saturday. Even if I did forget about them, I was sure to see them every time I opened my wallet. And I always had my wallet on me.

Economics went as expected, except for Mr. Cochran singling me out for one of the points Grandpa made about the politicians and insider trading.

“That’s a rather cynical view for a high school student,” he said.

I still got an A on the assignment.

In Western Civ, we started a segment on the Reconquista of the Iberian Peninsula, which caused us to back up several hundred years from Machiavelli. We were given a quick overview of the Roman province of Hispania and the Visigothic kingdom that followed before getting into the Moorish invasion and the emirate of al-Andalus.

There were also references to the Franks and Charles “The Hammer” Martel, which I thought would be a great name for a linebacker, and the Battle of Tours in France that helped slow Moorish incursions north of the Pyrenees. We’d already covered some of that in studying Charlemagne, who also had a peripheral role here.

After the Moors arrived in the early 700s, a little chunk along the north coast of Iberia known as the Kingdom of Asturias was the only area still held by Christians. What followed was nearly 800 years of fighting to push the invaders out.

Mrs. Edwards pointed out that it wasn’t one long, continuous war. There were several years, if not decades, of relative peace. And there were times Christians battled each other, often siding with Muslims in trying to gain the upper hand. Rodrigo Diaz de Vivar, El Cid, was held up as an example of how allegiances could shift so easily. He sounded like an opportunist.

Matters were also influenced by the Crusades to the Holy Land, which pitted Christians against Muslims from Constantinople to Jerusalem. In the end, it took Ferdinand and Isabella, of whom we all should have heard because of the Italian dude who convinced them to let him borrow some boats, to conquer the last Muslim stronghold of Granada and effectively unify Spain.

I could think of seven or eight aspects that could have been college courses all on their own. I found Isabella’s story particularly interesting. At 16, she was basically forced into becoming the face of a rebellion against the king of Castile, her half-brother, and negotiated an extremely favorable truce that left her as heir to the throne and gave her a say in who she would marry. I doubt any of the 16-year-old girls I knew — except maybe Morgan — could have pulled that off.

I was going to have plenty of reading to do for this. For once, none of my relatives possessed any expertise in the subject.

At the bell, I headed toward Mrs. Albracht’s room, noticing more whispers and stares. No telling what the rumor mill had come up with this time. I should get one of those message T-shirts to wear for such occasions — “Whatever it is, I didn’t do it.”

I was pleased to learn I got a 98 on my English test.

“I thought you didn’t talk to your aunt,” Mrs. Albracht said as she handed me several sheets of paper.

“I guess I just tried to look at it through her eyes,” I said. “She’s given me good advice so far.”

After going over things, we got started on “The Comedy of Errors,” Shakespeare’s shortest play at a little less than 15,000 words. We could read it in less than an hour. The hard part would be catching all the jokes and puns. Wordplay was a little different in Bill’s day from what it was now.

Athletics was a typical Wednesday with flexibility exercises and film study. I wasn’t sure how much we’d benefit from watching more footage of the Tigers. From what I’d seen so far, the biggest danger we’d face on offense was confusion created by defenders messing up our reads by lining up incorrectly.

All the other receivers had to ask about the deal with Paige Turner. I was getting tired of having to tell the same story five or six times. I should start a blog where I could answer all the questions in one go and get on with life.

Again, teenage boys got all weird at the thought of boobs being on display.

“You really make that girl’s titties fall out?” Calvin Hobbs asked as he tried to make my left kneecap touch my nose.

“I don’t think I ‘made’ anything happen,” I grunted. “Her blouse was about ready to bust open to start with. It only had one button that was barely hanging on. She tried to run. I stopped her. The button gave way.”

“I heard she was stacked,” I heard Ronnell Meadows say from somewhere to my right.

“Storebought,” I said. “Must’ve been a graduation present. That was one of the things — well, two of the things — that caused me to think she wasn’t a student here.”

“You get a handful or just an eyeful?” Marvin Purcell, one of our wide receivers, asked.

“Neither,” I gasped as Calvin continued to torture me. “I was behind her and hooked an arm around her waist. The only skin I touched was on her belly. Dunwoody and the campus cops who showed up would’ve been the only males who got a look before the office ladies got her covered up. She was wearing a bra, anyway.”

“How you get all the babes fallin’ all over ya like that?” Jay Clark, one of the tight ends, asked.

“She wasn’t all that good looking and wasn’t falling all over me,” I said. “She was a reporter trying to sneak an interview. She seemed to think I’d be too distracted by her boobs to care. I see better than that every time I have a modeling assignment. Those gals will start stripping before they get behind a changing screen.”

“You mind if we tag along on your next assignment?” Fernando Hernandez cracked, earning laughs from all the others in our group. “I think you oughta have an entourage.”

“Your sister might object to that,” I said. “I’d like to stay on her good side. She protects me from Antonia when I visit Familia Benavidez.”

I was reminded of a story I once heard Grandpa tell about the old Jack Benny Show. I don’t think it was a story I was meant to hear. The set up was Mr. Benny had just returned from a vacation in the south of France. He was asked what he thought of the topless beaches. “Well,” he said in that Jack Benny way, “if you’ve seen two, you’ve seen them all.”

My teammates could probably benefit from such an experience, but it would have to be after the season.

The film session went quickly. The Tigers were pretty vanilla on defense, operating out of a 3-4. Based on the clips we were shown, which came from three different games, they hadn’t shown anything exotic.

“So, what can ya tell me ‘bout these guys?” Reggie Terrell asked as we returned to the locker room.

“Watch out for that inside ‘backer, No. 46,” I said. “He’s the best player they’ve got. If he’s not in on the tackle, it’s usually a touchdown.”

“Yeah, he’s definitely the most active one out there,” Reggie said. “They don’t do a very good job of disguisin’ their coverages. You can tell if they’re in man or zone as soon as you come to the line. I’m thinkin’ five or six times in the end zone this week.”

“Better do it in the first half,” I grinned. “I get the feeling Coach Tucker won’t let me give you any advice for the third quarter this week.”

A quick rinse in the shower, redressed in school clothes and I was out the door with my backpack hanging off a shoulder. Morgan quickly attached herself to the other side to escort me to lunch.

“How’d your morning go?” she asked as we moved toward the cafeteria.

“Not too bad, other than everyone thinking I ripped that girl’s top off yesterday,” I said.

“Well, you are a known Neanderthal,” she teased.

“Don’t forget savage brute,” I smirked.

“And a total Chad,” she shot back.

“Good thing I’m such a nice guy,” I replied as I opened the door at the southeast entrance to the main building and held it for her, proving — to myself, at least — just how nice a guy I was.

“Keep telling yourself that,” Morgan smirked as she stepped past me, adding a quiet thank you.

We got in the lunch line, which was backed up more than normal and moving slower than normal. Word filtered back that the card readers were down and those who wanted to charge their meals had to give name and student ID number to one of the lunchroom ladies, who had a printed list of students for each lunch period she could mark. But looking through the 800 or so names in D lunch was taking a while. I didn’t know if the list was ordered alphabetically or numerically, but it would have taken even more time to try to line us up in whatever order.

It was already too late to try to go off campus and have a realistic chance of getting back on time and I’d spent most of the cash I had on dance tickets. I would’ve had to use my debit card, but risked the chance of whatever was causing the problem here also affecting nearby businesses. If it was phone lines, which all of these machines connected to eventually, it could even take out this whole side of town.

At least the folks ahead of us were sending back updates and today’s menu choices. The hot plate was cheese enchiladas, which didn’t excite me. I was already spoiled by Familia Benavidez for Mexican food and didn’t want gooey cheese clogging up my system. Looks like another trip through the burger line for me. I wasn’t going to touch the greasy pizza until after football season. I’d already puked enough this semester.

It was a quarter after before we even entered the serving line, leaving 25 minutes to eat and get to fifth period. I still had to swing by my locker and get what I needed for afternoon classes. That would easily take 10 minutes.

My schedule was thrown off even more when the lady with the list had to stop and go find another pen. How much ink does it take to make a check mark? Or even a couple of thousand?

By the time I escaped the traffic jam, I figured I had just enough time to get everything done if I didn’t sit down to eat. I experienced a bit of Déjà vu as I scarfed tater tots on the way to the tray return and munched on the burger as I headed for the North Wing. I paused just long enough to inform Morgan of my intentions.

I still had a quarter of the burger in my hand when one of the teachers felt the need to intervene.

“No food outside the cafeteria!” he barked.

I slowed my pace just enough to cram what was left in my mouth and dropped my napkin in a trash can, then continued my journey with my cheeks bulging like a chipmunk. I wondered if I would get in trouble again for simply following orders.