Chapter 53: Thursday, Oct. 4

The alarm went off right on time, causing Kacie to whine and try to burrow deeper into the bed. That made it a little easier for me to crawl over and whack the button on my way to the bathroom. I completed my morning routine and returned to my room to find my sister still snuggled under the covers.

Since I was going to catch hell no matter what I did, I went ahead and shook her awake. That would at least cover me with Mom.

“Go away,” Kacie grumbled.

“OK, but don’t blame me if you’re late for school again,” I said as I grabbed my clothes for the day.

I just needed to put on shoes when Kacie finally forced herself to get up, grab a quick smooch and head for the bathroom. Making sure I had everything required to get through the day — wallet, phone, keys, etc. — I stepped into a pair of deck shoes and grabbed my backpack. Arlene might have a cow at my choice of footwear, but I didn’t plan on being out after dark. It was still basically summer out there no matter what the calendar said.

Mom and Dad were, of course, in the kitchen as I put in an appearance. I fielded the expected questions about my plans for the day and whether Kacie was up with answers that seemed to meet Mom’s approval, fixed and ate my breakfast and prepared to head to school. Just as I was putting my dishes in the washer, my phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number, but the area code was local.

“This is Gary,” I answered, expecting there to be a reporter on the other end. I was pleasantly disappointed.

“Daddy said he has my mum safe and secure,” Sherry Parker said, still sounding tired. “Thank you for doing that.”

“You are very welcome,” I said, a big smile spreading across my face. “Did you get a new phone or something?”

“I forgot to plug mine in last night,” she admitted sheepishly. “I’m using the landline in my hospital room. Listen, you need to touch base with Staci ASAP. She said she almost has everything worked out for Saturday, but wants to check with you first.”

“I’ll do that as soon as I get to school,” I said. “I already have tickets to the dance, so we’re covered there.”

“That’s good,” Sherry said. “My parents will be at the dance just like last time. They’ll take me home so you and the other girls don’t have to leave early.”

“The thing I’m worried about is avoiding what happened last time,” I said. “If you’re not feeling well, tell us. It won’t be the end of the world if I don’t get to dance with you. I’d rather be able to dance with you in the future, like Winter Formal and prom.”

“Is that an invitation?” she giggled.

“We’ll have to check with my handlers,” I said. “They don’t trust me to make my own plans, but you’ve seen what they’re willing to do for you.”

“And they shouldn’t trust you,” Sherry gasped through her laughter. “You’re a boy. Girls have to make the plans so we can get what we want.”

Kacie’s arrival caused me to look at the microwave’s clock. I needed to get on the road.

“I’d better get going,” I said. “I hope today’s not a bad one for you. Be sure to get plenty of rest.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Sherry said. “I fell asleep on the trip back to my room yesterday, which is why I never charged my phone. I had to ask Mom for your number. I was just lucky she has you in her contacts or I would’ve had to call Daddy. I’d better get going myself. They’ll be here any minute. Love you.”

Once again, the call disconnected before I could respond. I put my phone away and looked up to see my family staring at me. I apparently had the volume up loud enough they could hear Sherry. Mom looked ready to explode.

“You’d better not be toying with that girl’s emotions,” she said in a warning tone.

“Believe me, I’m not trying to do anything of the sort,” I said.

“I thought you were taking Staci to the dance,” Kacie said.

“I am, but Staci thought I should also ask Sherry because she had to leave Sadie Hawkins early,” I said.

“So, you’re taking two girls to the dance?” Dad asked incredulously.

“Actually, three,” I mumbled. “Staci also thought I should ask Bethany because she gave up Sadie Hawkins so Sherry could ask me. Didn’t you catch the part about the girls making plans for me?”

“You are such a Chad,” Dad snorted.

“So this is all Staci’s doing, huh?” Mom asked like she didn’t really believe me.

“You’ll have to ask her,” I said. “I don’t know how much help she had in setting things up.”

I noticed Kacie blushed and ducked her head at that.

“Look, I doubt I ever would have asked Sherry out on my own,” I said. “But if I am going to take her out, I want her to be able to have as enjoyable a time as possible while she’s going through this.”

“Better watch just how enjoyable you make it,” Dad muttered before taking a sip of coffee.

“I told Mr. Parker before Sadie Hawkins that the one thing I’m really worried about is Sherry having some kind of episode while she’s with me,” I said, fighting to retain control. “I don’t think I could deal with having to tell them it happened while we were fooling around. The only thing worse would be if something happened because we were.”

“And how do you feel about her?” Mom asked.

“I admit I find her attractive and have enjoyed the time we’ve spent together,” I said. “I want what’s best for her. I want her to get through this. If going on a date with me helps lift her spirits, I don’t have a problem. I’ve read that a positive frame of mind is as big a factor as the physical side of things in these cases. I don’t mind being the reason she wants to get better, but I’m not going to do anything until she is. If I ever do.”

My parents continued to stare at me while Kacie seemed very interested in the pattern of the floor tile.

“You two had better get to school,” Mom commanded, breaking the silence. “We’ll discuss this more this evening.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said, grabbing my backpack and heading toward the door with Kacie right behind me.

Whatever my sister might have wanted to say to me as we approached the carport was cut off when my phone rang again. It was a number from the 323 area code. I hit the decline button and sent a text to everyone in my contact list that I was turning off my phone until after football practice. Anyone wanting to contact me should do so through the school office. By the time I got in the Beemer, Kacie was saddled up and gone.

My mood didn’t improve as I made the trip to school. When were people — especially my parents — going to understand that I wasn’t chasing after more girls? I had enough to deal with already. On top of that, I was going to have to break some regulations if I was going to visit my locker and be on time for first period. In addition to violating the speed limit when possible, a couple of lights were turning slightly pink as I rolled through intersections. At least the faculty couldn’t bust me for running from my car to the main building.

I was told to slow down twice as I moved through the hallways to my locker. I opened it to find a note from Staci asking me to call her before the end of the day. I hoped after football practice would be soon enough.

The first bell rang as I was arranging things in my backpack, forcing me to hurry even more if I hoped to beat the tardy bell. I heard one more admonition to slow down as I turned the corner into the East Wing, but I couldn’t swear it was directed at me. I was hardly the only student running late.

The tardy bell hadn’t finished echoing as I stepped into Mr. Cochran’s classroom. I don’t think he noticed, anyway, since he was concentrating on the graph he was making on the board. The only thing that mattered to me was I wasn’t marked as being tardy.

The lecture covered how to interpret the graph on the board and the necessary steps to create it. We were then assigned 10 problems that required us to make our own graphs and allowed to get started with about 20 minutes remaining in the period. My problem was I didn’t have any graph paper with me and didn’t want to pay the extortion rates the StuCo store charged. If I had any left in my locker, I could finish during study hall. Otherwise, I’d have to wait until I got home.

I went ahead and started working the problems, writing down the plot points as I went. It would take a few minutes to chart them, but I at least felt like I understood what Mr. Cochran was talking about.

Western Civ began getting more into the Reconquista. One thing I noticed was how different naming conventions of the time were compared to modern Spanish. Rodrigo Diaz, El Cid, was basically “Rodrigo, son of Diego.” Then he named his son Diego Rodriguez, or “Diego, son of Rodrigo.” That was going to take some getting used to when it came to following family lines.

Making things more difficult was the Muslim use of “ibn” or “bin” to denote “son of.” It would have been a lot easier if these folks just had surnames, which didn’t become widespread in Western Europe until the late Middle Ages. Or just about the time this whole shindig was wrapping up.

In English IV, we started going over “The Comedy of Errors,” which I never did get back to. Thanks, Kacie. But I had gotten through more of it than several of my classmates and understood where a good number of the laughs were supposed to be.

We were told to read it completely over the weekend. We’d discuss more of the deeper meaning Friday and Monday, then have a test on Tuesday. That would give Mrs. Albracht time to have them graded and back to us before she began her maternity leave at the end of next week. It looked like we were going to have a couple of free days after the test, it was just a matter of where they’d fall.

I wished we’d had one of those free days this week, I thought as I headed for athletics. I’d barely looked at the game plan, but it was so similar to last week’s that I should be able to get by. Besides, it wouldn’t change the outcome if someone else carried in plays. I expected to be busy enough with just my duties on special teams.

With that in mind, I took my time on the test, taking care to look for subtle differences in the questions. The main things that I took from our prep work was to avoid self-inflicted mistakes and to get No. 46 blocked. If we did that, the score would take care of itself.

Once everyone had turned their test in, I got Jed’s attention. Time to finally start planning our postgame meal. Reggie and Chuck quickly joined us once they realized what we were talking about. Reggie waved over Marshawn and Danny Mathis, the two captains on defense. No sense in excluding anyone, but I still wanted to keep the group small, if possible.

My mention that everyone would have to pay in advance caused Danny to withdraw, but several guys from the cabana crew were eager to take his place. I refused to accept any money at this time, saying I’d start collecting after practice. It was up to them to not go on a spending spree during the afternoon.

“Just so you remember what I want, Supermodel,” Marshawn jibed as the bell rang.

With no need to shower, we hit the lunch line a little earlier than normal. Morgan had once again attached herself to my side, which turned out to have both good and bad points for me as we continued discussing a postgame gathering.

“Can I come?” she asked eagerly.

“If you buy your own,” I said. “I’m going to try to get a shopping list and the money to Marie tonight.”

“You’d think my boyfriend would be happy to pay for mine,” she said in that too-sweet tone of hers.

“How many times am I supposed to feed you this week?” I smirked.

“Well, your grandfather paid for Monday, Arlene fed us Tuesday and I declined your offer last night,” the little elf ticked off with a smirk of her own. “Besides, it’s not like you’ll have to go hungry Saturday to be able to pay for all your dates to eat.”

That earned me several curious looks from my teammates. I needed to learn to keep my mouth shut around Morgan. I was never going to defeat her debating skills.

We worked our way through the line quickly enough. The card readers were back in operation after yesterday, making things move considerably faster. I was ready to endure Chuck’s jokes as I got in line for the Stroganoff, but he was already a few spots ahead of me trying to sweet talk the serving lady into a larger portion. She seemed vaguely familiar, like I’d seen her somewhere else before.

“So, how many dates do you have for the dance?” Hank Preston frowned as I reached our usual table. He’d apparently drawn the short straw based on the number of wicked grins from our teammates.

“None you would have asked,” I said, trying to downplay the situation. “I asked Staci Patterson, then she talked me into inviting Bethany Metzger and Sherry Parker. So, three.”

“That’s gonna cause a ruckus,” Andrew Pearson, with Vi Ochoa practically sitting in his lap, said. “How’d she talk you into it?”

“I think the more important question is why she talked him into it,” Morgan cut in, saving me from having to answer Andrew’s question. At least it wasn’t like Staci was giving me a blowjob at the time.

“Staci thought I should ask Sherry because she had to leave so early when we went to Sadie Hawkins,” I explained. “And I was told Bethany deserved it because she was going to ask me to Sadie Hawkins, but decided not to when Staci told her about setting things up for Sherry to ask me. I had very little say in the matter.”

“Not if you wanted to live,” Morgan muttered just loud enough for the entire table to hear.

“So now ya gotta buy Morgan a steak for tomorra night to stay on her good side,” Marshawn mused as he tried to put all the pieces in place.

“Sounds like it,” I admitted, looking down to see Morgan mimicking Kacie’s big-eyed adorable look. I should have put her over my knee a long time ago.

“Speaking of that,” Morgan said, suddenly all business, “we ought to get started on that shopping list.”

The little elf reached into her bookbag and pulled out a pen, notebook and her tablet.

“Aguilar’s Meat Market has prices online.” she said, opening her browser to a page with all the pertinent information and placing the tablet in the middle of the table so everyone could see. “Everything’s priced by the pound, but you can get cuts as small as six ounces. You’ll have to do your own math to see how big a cut you want.”

What followed was a quick rundown of how much each different cut sold for. Filet Mignon, of course, was at the top end of the scale with top sirloin near the bottom. A lot of guys were using the calculator function on their phones to figure what they could — or were willing to — pay for. Homecoming was cutting into the available funds for some guys. Like pretty much all of us.

I’d already spent something like $400 for mums and dance tickets and I was supposed to be on a $100 weekly “allowance,” which just happened to come out of my own account. I needed to pick up some modeling assignments to keep my balance at a level that would keep Mom happy. Or at least my accountant. Who just happened to be Mom.

After hearing that Morgan wanted a six-ounce filet, which would run somewhere around $15, I selected an eight-ounce strip. I normally would have gone for 12 or 14 ounces. I could always raid the fridge in the apartment if I was still hungry.

“What’s a strip steak?” Reggie asked.

“What we had last week,” I said. “It’s basically the less good side of a T-bone, but it’s still pretty good. Sort of in the middle of the price range.”

“So, what’s the difference between a Porterhouse and a T-bone?” Jed asked, looking at his phone. “They look the same.”

“It depends on how far back on the steer it comes from,” I said. “The Porterhouse has more of the good, or tender, meat, so it costs more. The T-bone has more of the strip, which has a stronger flavor.”

“How you know all that?” Marshawn asked.

“My granddad raises cattle,” I said. “He expects me to know all the cuts the way I’m sure the good reverend expects you to know scripture.”

“You oughta be out at Cedar Springs with all them farmboys,” Lloyd Daniels chuckled.

“I’d be better off at Buchanan,” I said. “I have family there and wouldn’t have to deal with the likes of Billy Ray Harkrider.”

“What can ya tell me ‘bout my ribeye?” Marshawn asked.

“It has more fat than most of the other cuts,” I said, “so it has more flavor and is more tender. That also makes it cost more.”

“How much more?” the linebacker asked.

“This much,” Morgan said, showing him the pricelist on her tablet and causing his eyes to bug out slightly.

“What the heck,” he said. “Put me down for a pound. I ain’t takin’ nobody to the dance, anyway. Don’t have time for a girlfriend durin’ the season.”

“Tell ya what,” I said. “I’ll cover the loaded baked potato just for you. I know Marie bought a bag this week.”

“Miss Marie gonna be doin’ the cookin’ again?” Reggie asked.

“That’s the plan unless we get more than she can handle,” I said. “It wouldn’t hurt for everybody to throw in an extra buck or two to make it worth her while.”

“What’s the cheapest?” Michael Chacon asked from down the table.

“The cheapest good cut would probably be the top sirloin,” I said, “less than $10 a pound depending on the grade. It should probably be marinated to help tenderize it. I’ve always liked using Italian dressing, but we can see about trying something else if you prefer. Put it on to soak tonight and it’d be more than ready for the grill by the time we could get there after the game.”

I noticed several guys still pondering their options.

“Look, it doesn’t have to be steak,” I said, “that’s just what we lucked into last week. If some of y’all would prefer something else, like chicken breast, I’m sure we can accommodate you.”

“Nah, I want steak,” Michael said. “Put me down for a pound of that top sirloin. I’ll ask Artie what his abuela recommends for a marinade.”

Our little seminar was interrupted by Dr. Stirling. Of course it was. Thursday. Beef Stroganoff. And he had Mrs. Montero in tow. At least I’d been able to eat my lunch.

“Good day, gentlemen,” the superintendent said as the principal glowered at me. “Someone claimed you were planning a big party. I thought I should check it out to make sure nothing improper was occurring.”

“I don’t think so,” I said as Mrs. Montero continued to glare. “A few of us got together for a bite to eat after last week’s game because we all missed dinner. They want to do it again tomorrow and we’re just trying to gauge interest among the others.”

“There’d better not be any drinking,” Mrs. Montero snapped.

I couldn’t think of a single thing I’d done to incur her wrath today unless it was moving too fast in the halls this morning. I really needed to step up my efforts to find her a new Dom before I was forced to do something drastic.

“There won’t be,” I assured her. “The location we’re planning on using doesn’t allow alcohol on the premises. Everyone has to pay their own way so we don’t get in trouble for players receiving improper benefits.”

“And just what is being served?” Dr. Stirling asked.

“Steaks,” Jed answered, gaining the superintendent’s undivided attention. “Gary had enough for four of us last week. We’re tryin’ to figure out what kind and how big so we can put a shoppin’ list together. Gary was explainin’ all the different cuts and Morgan’s keepin’ track of who wants what.”

“I’d like to add that guys are welcome to bring their own if they have something at home,” I said. “I’d like for everybody to have enough cash to get through the dance Saturday.”

“Where is this location?” Mrs. Montero demanded.

“At a friend’s house,” I said, not wanting to expose Arlene’s participation if I could avoid it. “It has an interior patio that will easily hold a couple of dozen, but we’d need to make sure we have enough room for everyone to sit. That’ll cut down on how many we can squeeze in.”

“I think I know the place you’re talking about,” Dr. Stirling said thoughtfully. “Looks like a hacienda? Spanish tiled roof? And when is this event supposed to take place?”

“As soon as we can get there following the game.” I said.

“Is Coach Tucker aware you’re doing this?” Mrs. Montero spat, sounding like she was ready to trash the entire enterprise.

“He’s visited the place and talked to us and the owner about what happened last week,” Jed said. “I think he’s plannin’ on showin’ up tomorrow just to make sure we behave.”

“Things had better be exactly as you say,” Mrs. Montero warned us. “I’ll be checking.”

Then she finally got around to her real reason for being here.

“I was also told you purchased two couples tickets for the dance,” she hissed at me. “That had better be two boy-girl couples.”

“It is,” I smiled, reaching for my wallet and extracting one of the tickets. “Chuck was worried about having enough cash to get through the rest of the week if he bought his early, but he didn’t want to pay the higher price at the door. Here ya go, Chuck. Consider it payment for helping with the yard last week.”

“Thanks, dude,” the left guard mumbled before turning to Morgan. “Put me down for a pound of that top sirloin. Whatever marinade y’all use will be fine.”

“The Porterhouse looks appetizing,” Dr. Stirling mused as he peered over Morgan’s shoulder. “Put me down for one of those, 16 ounces, please. If y’all are gathering at the place I’m thinking of, that’s just a few blocks from my house. The trick will be not to snack too much during the game.”

The administrators took their leave, but Dr. Stirling stopped and turned back to us after a couple of steps.

“It should probably go without saying, but there’d better be plenty of reason to celebrate tomorrow night,” he ordered us, receiving a hearty “yes, sir,” from the entire table. “Gary, I’ll see about getting you the money after practice this evening.”

I breathed a sigh of relief as they departed. In the end, we didn’t have that many fellows commit. The four of us from last week, Morgan (who I was paying for), Marshawn, Michael and four more linemen from both sides of the ball who’d worked on the cabana crew. They all promised to have the money this evening. The rest decided to hold on to what they had and spend it on their dates Saturday night, but were more than willing to join in next week if we were allowed to do this again.

“I can’t believe you got away with feeding Mrs. Montero that line of bull,” Morgan snorted as she began putting her things away. “Or that she bought it.”

“Tell me one thing I said that wasn’t true,” I shot back. “It just wasn’t necessarily planned in advance.”

We soon dispersed to get ready for fifth period. It was almost time for the bell and I still had to swing by my locker. After giving Morgan a quick hug, I disposed of my tray.

“That was a good job of thinkin’ on ya feet, though,” Reggie said as he caught up to me. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’d been playin’ quarterback for years.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I grinned as we headed off to our next class.

At my locker, there was another note from Staci imploring me to get in touch with her. I couldn’t help it that our schedules were so different that we rarely crossed paths, but I was pretty sure it was all my fault. I was the guy, after all. I did find a couple of sheets of graph paper, not enough to finish the Economics assignment but I would at least be able to get started during study hall.

Algebra II seemed to be on cruise control. Grade and turn in homework, review for tomorrow’s test. At least I now had a good grasp on the material I’d missed earlier in the week.

Chemistry was more of the same. Grade and turn in homework, then take notes as Mr. Debussy lectured. Elise informed me she would meet me outside the fieldhouse after we both finished practice. I hoped she wasn’t considering this to be a date, but she looked particularly nice today. Her outfit complimented her quite well. I was just glad she hadn’t pulled a Kacie and dressed like Paige Turner. I did not need to be distracted by those legs in a micromini. My lab partner could be distracting enough without trying.

During the breaks between fifth and sixth periods and sixth and seventh, excited squeals could be heard up and down the halls. It sounded like the student council had begun delivering Homecoming mums to girls’ lockers. I tried to find Staci and Bethany while I was still in the East Wing, but without success.

I hit my locker one last time to find yet another note from Staci thanking me for her mum and demanding I contact her. It was urgent. By the time I loaded what I’d need for homework and unloaded what I wouldn’t, it was time to get to my last class of the day. Mrs. Cohen distributed the graded assignments we’d turned in yesterday. I got another A, but there was a note saying this may have been even more cynical than what I’d turned in Monday. I could put up with it since there was no homework.

Bell, dash to the fieldhouse, dressed, taped, out on the field. The walkthrough was notable just for how fast the coaches pushed the pace, Coach Tucker blipped his whistle at 4:15 and we were off the field before 5. We went through the script and two-minute drill again, then spent a segment on special teams. Nothing special was planned. We weren’t going to show anything fancy until we had to.

The early finish allowed me to shower thoroughly and get to study hall. I noticed Morgan collecting money from the guys who’d ordered steaks and putting it in an envelope before marking her list. It appeared she had everyone taken care of as she licked and sealed the envelope before returning to helping sophomores keep or regain their eligibility.

Cody and I went over our Algebra II notes one more time and felt confident. The bonus question might be the toughest part of the test. I graphed the first problem for Economics, but had to abandon the second when my next attempt didn’t look anything like it was supposed to. I’d have to rework the problem and try again after I got home.

After telling Morgan I’d wait for her if she needed a ride, I stepped out of the locker room about 5:30 to find Arturo Benavidez having an animated conversation with his abuela. Well, his abuela was pretty animated. Artie looked like he was just trying to survive the encounter.

My mistake was accidentally entering the woman’s field of vision as she continued her tirade in rapid-fire Spanish.

“Señor Gar-ree, ” she called out, waving me over, “ven aqui.”

“¿Si, señora?” I asked as I obeyed her command.

What followed was more rapid-fire Spanish as she asked me a question. All I caught was something about the location of “tu abuela.”

“No comprendo, señora, ” I replied, which obviously was not what the Benavidez matriarch wanted to hear.

Taking a deep breath, she tried again, stopping Arturo from translating for me. I guess he’d learned a long time ago not to interrupt her.

“Heees yor granmuzzer gonna bee hyeeere?” she asked in heavily accented English.

“No sé, señora, ” I replied.

Arturo was waved into action at that point.

“She wants to know if your grandmother is going to be at the cookout tomorrow night,” he said.

“No sé, señora, ” I repeated before turning back to my teammate. “Tell her my grandmother is supposed to be leaving on a trip with my aunt this weekend, but I haven’t heard when. They may already be on the road for all I know.”

Arturo translated my reply, which again was not the answer his abuela wanted to hear. She whipped out a phone and poked the screen, waiting barely two seconds before the call connected. Whoever she was calling must have been holding their phone in their hand to answer that fast.

“Hola, Señora Millie. ¿Cómo está?” she asked before taking off with even more rapid-fire Spanish.

I was still trying to get my head around the fact Arturo’s abuela had Grandma’s number in her contacts when Coach Tucker and Coach Montoya, the defensive line coach, joined us.

“Everything all right, fellas?” Coach Tucker asked as the phone conversation continued. “We heard what sounded like an argument going on out here.”

Arturo’s abuela was walking around in a little circle waving her free hand in the air as she spoke to my grandmother.

“I was gonna see if mi abuela would give me some money so I could get in on the cookout tomorrow night,” Arturo explained. “I don’t think she liked that Gary’s housekeeper is going to do the cooking. She said if I wanted to eat a steak, it’d be one she cooks. Then she kinda went off.”

“That reminds me,” Coach Tucker snorted. “I need to get my name on the list. Coach Bennett wants in, too.”

“I think Morgan’s handling all that,” I said.

“She is,” Morgan said from behind me. “I’ve already collected from all the players who intend to be there — except Gary — and checked with Coach Bennett. He’s bringing his own meat because he wants to season it himself at home without anyone finding out what’s in his ‘secret rub.’”

“I’ll take a 14-ounce ribeye,” Coach Tucker said, handing Morgan a Hamilton and a Lincoln.