Chapter 57: Monday, Oct. 8

I awoke to the ringing of my phone and almost fell out of bed trying to reach it atop the dresser.

“Mornin,’ Mom,” I answered automatically.

“I’m not your momma,” Ny’Quesha Taylor giggled, sounding much more upbeat than I felt. “Listen, I checked the health clinic’s website last night. They open at 7. If we hurry, we can get in and out of there and still make it to school on time. That’d be better than waiting until Thursday, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes, yes it would,” I yawned, thinking three days might make the difference in how much I had to explain to the girls.

“I can meet you there or you can pick me up,” Ny’Quesha said. “The clinic’s just a couple of blocks from school.”

“What time is it?” I asked bleerily, trying to figure how long it would take to get from here to the parsonage and back over to the clinic.

“Just past 6:30,” Ny’Quesha said. “I’ll be ready by the time you can get here.”

“Sounds like I’d better get moving then,” I said. “I’ll be there in no more than 20 minutes.”

“OK,” Ny’Quesha said, “see ya then.”

“Who was that?” Marie, nude except for her choker, asked.

“Ny’Quesha Taylor,” I said. “She wants to hit the health clinic before school. Our next best option is Thursday evening after practice. This will at least get us the results back that much sooner.”

“You’d better get a move on then,” the little waif said. “What do you want for breakfast?”

“No time for it,” I said, pulling a fresh pair of boxers out of the dresser. “I’ll just grab something at school.”

I hit the bathroom and raced through a shower that was even shorter than the one I’d taken yesterday after I returned from lunch. I did think to brush my teeth and run a comb through my hair, then went to get dressed.

Marie was waiting for me. With a glass of pineapple juice.

“You can at least have your juice,” she sniffed, handing me the glass.

“Thank you, baby,” I said, accepting the juice and gulping it down.

“I don’t like you seeing this girl,” Marie said as I pulled on the cargo shorts I’d worn yesterday afternoon. “This is why you shouldn’t go around fucking girls outside your circle.”

“I know, baby,” I sighed, reaching for a polo shirt from the wire rack. “We can talk about it when I get home tonight. Right now, I need to get on the road.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” she pouted, stepping in close. “Have a good day, Daddy. Love you.”

“Love you, too, baby,” I said, getting a smooch.

I slipped on the sling, made sure I had keys, wallet, phone, hoisted the backpack over a shoulder and headed out the door. It was still dark outside. I dropped my backpack in the trunk and headed out to pick up Ny’Quesha.

I hadn’t even backed all the way to the street when my phone rang again. This time, it was Mom.

“Mornin,’ Mom,” I said as the call connected to the Beemer’s Bluetooth.

“Just checking to make sure you’re up,” Mom said.

“Up, fed, dressed and on the road,” I said, fibbing only a little. “I’m going to swing by the office to see about that appeal before I have to report to ISS.”

OK, that was an outright lie. But I had thought about doing that before Ny’Quesha changed my plans.

“Well, try not to get in any more trouble,” she said. “You’ll have to give up house sitting if anything else happens.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said.

“How was your lunch with the Taylor girl?” Mom asked.

“Enjoyable,” I said. “Apparently, Mrs. Taylor thinks I can be a good influence on her and isn’t opposed to us seeing each other. I don’t think Dr. Taylor or Marshawn share that opinion, but the reverend says his wife likes me and I’m still alive.”

“Yes, well, I’d better let you go,” she said. “I’ve still got to get ready myself.”

“OK, have a good day,” I said as the call disconnected.

I arrived at the parsonage at 6:52, according to the dashboard clock. Ny’Quesha stepped off the porch with her bookbag before I was able to get out of the car. I still went around to open the passenger door for her, being greeted with a kiss that made me glad it still wasn’t daylight. There was enough light to show she was wearing her choker, though, and that she wore her hair pulled back.

“Hurry,” she said as she slipped into her seat. “I made us an appointment for 7:10. That ought to give us enough time to get to school.”

I followed her order and was soon heading toward school. The clinic was located in a little office complex just past the fast-food joints on the west side of campus and a block off the main road.

“What did you tell your parents about leaving this early?” I asked as we drove along.

“Nothing,” the pretty girl said. “Monday is Poppa’s day to sleep in. I’d be in more trouble for waking him up than for leaving early.”

I guess that made sense. From what I could tell, Dr. Taylor put in a good 12 hours on Sundays between morning and evening services. And no telling how much energy he may have expended in between with his own harem.

“What about Marshawn?” I asked.

“He was just glad he didn’t have to take me this early,” she snorted. “He asked if I could get a ride every morning.”

“I take it you didn’t tell him just who you were getting a ride from,” I said.

“I won’t if you won’t,” Ny’Quesha smirked.

Luck was with me as I caught pretty much every light along the way. We pulled into the clinic parking lot as dawn was breaking.

“Let’s go get this over with,” I said as I shut the engine off.

I helped Ny’Quesha from her seat and led her into the clinic. It took us a good 10 minutes to get checked in, having to fill out a couple of forms and provide proof of insurance. Then I had to assure the lady at the counter that I was good for anything not covered by the deductibles. Despite all that, a nurse called us back to an examination room before 7:15.

“What are we testing for?” the nurse asked as she led us down the hallway.

“Any sexually transmitted disease,” I said. “We had a spontaneous encounter and I wasn’t prepared. We’ve both had multiple partners. I guess I should get in the habit of carrying some protection with me even when I’m not expecting anything.”

“That wouldn’t be a bad idea,” the nurse said as she prepped Ny’Quesha’s left arm. “Of course, you’d still need to remember to use it when you’re being ‘spontaneous.’”

After drawing a vial from the girl, the nurse turned her attention to me. I don’t think I have a problem with needles, but I found myself looking away as it pierced my vein. I think it didn’t hurt as much if I didn’t watch the process.

That’s my story and I’m stickin’ to it.

With that bit of business taken care of, we were sent to settle our bill.

“We should be able to get results back by the end of the week,” the nurse said. “Some things, like HIV and syphilis, take longer to test for. We’ll notify you as the results come in. Use condoms until we get everything back. And keep using them if she’s not on birth control.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said. “Thanks for seeing us.”

It was just past 7:30 when we returned to the car, plenty of time to get to school.

“Have you had breakfast?” I asked Ny’Quesha as I backed out of the parking spot.

“A muffin and some yogurt,” she said. “I don’t need anything, but you can get something if you’re hungry.”

With permission granted, I swung by Rosa’s and got a bag of breakfast tacos and some iced tea. I’d still rather have had something from Tia Connie, but this would get me by until lunch.

I pulled into my parking spot before the rest of the student body made driving around campus hazardous, shut it down and reached into the bag for a taco.

“That smells good,” Ny’Quesha said. “What is it?”

“Chorizo, egg and cheese,” I said around a mouthful. “Familia Benavidez is better, though. They make their own chorizo.”

“What’s chorizo?” she asked.

“Mexican sausage,” I said. “The Benavidezes use a special spice blend that makes theirs taste a little ... I don’t know... more. Their version is called chorizo fresca, which means you have to cook it. Most chorizos from Spain are smoked and can be eaten like a salami.”

“Can I have a taste?” the pretty girl asked.

“Sure,” I said, “just grab one from the bag.”

“I’ll just take a bite off this one,” she said, gripping my wrist and leaning over the center console.

The way her pink tongue reached for the tortilla as her dark lips wrapped around it was incredibly arousing. If we’d had more time and privacy, I might have allowed her to do the same with a different phallus.

“That’s not very ladylike,” I said as she neatly bit off a piece, causing her to giggle as she leaned back and daintily dabbed at a crumb of scrambled egg hanging on the corner of her mouth.

“Sorry,” she said after swallowing the morsel. “This is pretty good. And FB’s is supposed to be even better?”

“Believe me, it is,” I said as I shoved the last bite in and reached for another taco. “We’d better get moving. I can’t afford to be late today.”

I stuffed the wrapper from the first taco into the sack and wolfed down the second as I got out and reclaimed my backpack from the trunk.

Travis Murtaugh pulled into his spot next to me as I helped Ny’Quesha from her seat.

“You got a death wish or sumpin?’” the tight end asked through his open window.

“Nothing to worry about,” I said as Ny’Quesha smiled shyly. “Just giving her a ride to school.”

“Better be the only kind of ride you give her,” Travis muttered. “If Marshawn finds out, you’re on your own, dude.”

Ny’Quesha handed me the last taco from the bag, which I consumed as we walked toward the main building. I stuffed the trash in the first receptacle we passed and we made our way to the West Wing. I noticed Dunwoody wasn’t yet in residence at the room I’d report to for ISS.

I escorted Ny’Quesha to her locker, which wasn’t that far from the southwest corner of the building. She opened the door, screening us from a teacher on hall duty, and pressed up against me for a kiss that surely was in violation of the code of student conduct.

“Thanks for doing this for me,” she husked after breaking the kiss. “I’m sorry I put you in this situation.”

“Well, just behave yourself,” I said. “And be sure to pay attention in your classes. Remember what I told you. Good grades, good behavior, good test results. If all that happens, I’ll give you a reward.”

“Oh, God,” she moaned, closing her eyes and trembling, enabling me to catch a whiff of aroused female. “Now you’re going to send me to class soaking wet.”

“Focus, Ny’Quesha,” I commanded. “Think of what you have to do to achieve your goals. Don’t just wish for them to happen. Make them happen.”

“Yes, sir,” she panted as she tried to collect herself. “When can I see you again?”

“There’s always our evening study hall,” I said. “If you show good progress this week, I’ll take you to the postgame meal Friday. We’re supposed to have it in the parking lot. But I’d better see results, young lady.”

“Yes, sir,” she said meekly.

With one last smooch, I made my escape and headed for the ISS room, which was empty when the first bell rang. Dunwoody strode in a minute or so later, pulled the door closed and got in my face.

“What the fuck did you get me into, Robinson?” he snarled.

“Nothing I didn’t think you could handle, sir,” I said, managing to hold my ground. “I take it your talk with Mrs. Montero was productive.”

“I guess you could call it that,” he snorted. “I didn’t get back to my place until after midnight last night. She was beggin’ me to do stuff that shoulda got me arrested. My ex-wife better not ever find out about this. She called me borderline abusive when she kicked me out.”

“How is Mrs. Montero doing?” I asked.

“Well, she made it to work on time, but only because I went and got her,” Dunwoody growled. “She tried to get me to do more stuff when I showed up, but I put my foot down. I ordered her to perform her duties to the best of her ability today.”

“Sounds like you’re off to a good start,” I said, pulling my phone out, “but you might have to give her that command on a regular basis. Let me give you a number for a gentleman who’s advised me on how to handle my girl.”

“That’s another thing I’ve been wonderin’ about,” the school disciplinarian muttered as he scribbled down Bob McCloskey’s number. “How the hell did you get into this scene?”

“Pretty much by accident,” I admitted. “I think she chose me as much as I claimed her. We had a bit of a thing over the summer, then her Domme got arrested and left her stranded. A friend of mine gave her a job and a place to stay, but I’m the one who gets to handle the discipline. I’ve already had to warn off one fellow who was ready to claim her as a stray.”

“Yeah, well, Ines said she could tell you have what it takes,” he said. “Now I understand what you meant when you said you couldn’t take care of her yourself. It really woulda been the end of her career if it ever got out she was lettin’ a student do that stuff to her.”

Dunwoody handed me my phone back, then hit me with the big surprise as the tardy bell sounded.

“Get your butt to class,” he growled. “Your sentence has been rescinded and it won’t show up on your record. Ines never got started on the necessary paperwork. But you better believe I’ve still got my eye on you. This had better be the last time I see you in here.”

“Yes, sir,” I said as I turned off my phone and put it away. “Looks like you’ve got a pretty easy day now. What happened to the other guy?”

“He’s been sent to alternative school for the real hard cases,” Dunwoody smirked. “If he’s lucky, his family will enroll him in a private school and get ‘im outta our hair completely. I recommended a couple of good military academies that’ll whip ‘im into shape, or at least whip ‘im.”

I got the feeling Dunwoody wouldn’t mind being the one to administer the whipping, either. Maybe Palomita would need more attention tonight.

“So you’re in here all by your lonesome?” I asked as an idea began to take form.

“All week as long as the rest of the numbskulls behave themselves,” he grinned. “Seems there’s a rumor goin’ ‘round that I’ve got a Secret Service detail workin’ for me. The folks who saved your butt at the last two dances are makin’ my job that much easier. Now if I could just get the minor offenders who get detention for chewin’ gum in class to pull their heads out.”

“How’d you feel about my girl doing a stint in here, just a day or two?” I asked. “She could fill you in on the needs of pets without you having to pester Mrs. Montero during school. Maybe get Mr. McCloskey on the horn and you could hear from both sides at the same time.”

Dunwoody assumed a thoughtful expression as he chewed on that.

“When could she get here?” he finally asked.

“Probably tomorrow morning,” I said. “Monday is the day she does all her errands for the week, but her boss is out of town on business right now. You could keep her out of trouble for me.”

“Could we do it without any of the other teachers gettin’ suspicious?” he asked.

“She could pass for a student,” I said. “We might need to fix up a fake ID like that gal had last week, but I know some guys who can handle that. Heck, they’d probably want to hack the school server and enroll her as a real student.”

“Yeah, that’d probably be goin’ too far,” he grunted, handing me a hall pass. “I’ll think about it. You get to class.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, gathering up my backpack.

I didn’t whistle a jaunty tune as I strolled through the hallway to Mr. Cochran’s room, but I certainly felt like I should have. I hadn’t even missed that much of the class and was quickly able to join in the discussion of our reading assignment, which was made that much easier because Economics was the one textbook I had in my bag. I’d just have to get with Chuck to make sure I hadn’t missed anything important.

At the bell, I was on my way out the door when the left guard caught up to me.

“Why so late, dude?” he asked. “Marshawn catch ya with his sister?”

“Nothing like that,” I snorted. “I had to put in an appearance at ISS. Montero busted me for causing a disturbance at the dance after you and Kelli left, but apparently had a change of heart yesterday. Dunwoody was almost civil about it.”

“Yeah, Jed said some dude took a swing at ya,” Chuck said.

“It was probably a good thing you weren’t there,” I said as we moved toward the North Wing. “It was the same guy who was bothering Stephanie Tucker a couple of weeks ago.”

“What happened?” Chuck asked.

“His date — who’s in eighth grade, by the way — had to get home by 10,” I said. “This guy had other ideas, she ran and hid behind me, he said he was tired of me messing things up for him, took a swing, Montero busted me.”

“So is that dude in ISS now?” Chuck asked.

“Alternative school,” I said. “Dunwoody said he recommended some military academies. Maybe one would let the doofus hang targets at the rifle range and forget to tell ‘im to get out of the way.”

“And he’d be dumb enough to just stand there once the shootin’ started,” Chuck snorted. “I still can’t believe he tried to put the moves on Coach Tucker’s daughter.”

I left Chuck at his locker and headed to mine. This week’s little poster encouraged me to “Cage the Bears.” I thought the cheerleaders could have gone with something alliterative, but they’d already used bash for the Bearcats and I doubted many folks in this town were well-read enough to get something like “Bait the Bears.”

Well, Aunt Karen would get it, but her doctorate pretty much proved she was well-read.

I dumped the Economics book and grabbed those for Western Civ and English IV. I’d get what I needed for the afternoon classes either before athletics or after lunch.

Mrs. Edwards surprised me in that she really didn’t include much about Rodrigo Diaz in today’s lecture. I still got the feeling I’d need to be familiar with his part of the story. And I’d better bone up on Ferdinand and Isabella, the Catholic Monarchs. That time period could have been a college course all by itself.

Mrs. Albracht looked like she was barely hanging on as she tried to get us through one more week in English IV. It wouldn’t surprise me if she went into labor at any minute. She did ask me how much input Aunt Karen had provided after I raised one point.

“Nothing directly,” I said. “She’s out of town this week, anyway, but I did use some of the resources she pointed me to earlier.”

“And these resources are...?” the pregnant teacher asked.

When I named the websites I’d used, Mrs. Albracht seemed impressed.

“Those sites are mostly used by doctoral candidates,” she said as a couple of my classmates scribbled down the web addresses. “If you understand that material, you’re ahead of the game.”

I felt pretty good about my prospects for the test after that. I just needed to make sure I didn’t forget it all in the next 23 hours. Might ought to go over the material again tonight.

At the bell, I took the time to swap out books and raced to the fieldhouse, arriving just in time to change clothes and hit the weightroom. It turned out to be a wasted effort. Coach Bennett informed me I was excused from upper-body lifting until Doc cleared me, then sent me to the training room to make sure my left arm was still attached.

Honestly, the shoulder had been feeling pretty good since Dr. Taylor did his thing yesterday. It may have all been in my mind, but I wasn’t going to argue. All I cared about was the end result.

Doc poked and prodded, seeming to think I’d made significant progress since he’d seen me Saturday morning. I wondered how much progress I would have made if I hadn’t used the arm to block the dipshit’s punch at the dance.

Speaking of that, Coach Tucker entered the training room as I was being tended to.

“Tell me what happened at the dance,” the head coach ordered as the trainer continued to work.

I again repeated the story — young girl, pushy date, curfew, hiding behind me, punch, Montero. I think that pretty much covered it.

“And you did nothing to provoke the Goldthwaite boy?” Coach asked.

“Only in that I’d already spoiled his attempt with Stephanie,” I said. “He said he was tired of me messing things up for him.”

“Mark Peterson sends his thanks for getting his daughter home,” Coach said. “We attend the same church. Stephanie said Mikayla wants to thank you personally. I’d advise against letting that happen.”

“Not in this lifetime,” I snorted. “Stephanie wanting to thank me caused enough trouble.”

“Just make sure Ny’Quesha Taylor doesn’t need ‘rescuing,’” he said. “I will tell ya right now I’m not getting in Marshawn’s way if it comes to that.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, resisting the urge to point out yet again that I wasn’t pursuing the girl. I’d still somehow managed to claim her as a pet.

Coach took his leave and Doc got me into a shoulder harness, which was basically the same thing as a compression sleeve for a knee or elbow, just more complicated. It went on sort of like a button-down shirt, but had a velcro strap that wrapped around the torso to fasten it. I’d need someone to help me pull the strap tight enough to make sure the harness kept the shoulder in place.

Even at that, I was still able to lift the arm over my head, but it might be a good idea if Reggie kept the ball lower than my face if I was ever targeted.

“We’ll keep you out of contact this week just to make sure,” Doc said. “I think you should be able to hold for kicks, but right now I’d advise that you not field punts in a game. That may change by Friday, but don’t get your hopes up.”

Considering how many times I’d been blasted on punts, it wouldn’t hurt my feelings any to let Ronnell handle the job for a few weeks.

Doc dismissed me, advising me to keep the sling until further notice just to be safe. If nothing else, I could carry my phone in it.

I took a quick rinse in the shower just to be safe, dressed in my school clothes and reported to the team room for film study with the rest of the team. Instead of reviewing our game film as we normally would on Monday — Coach Tucker claimed there was nothing to be learned from it — we got right to work on our upcoming opponent.

The first thing I noticed about the Bears was their offense. Wide open was probably the best way to describe it. I thought of it as the NASCAR offense — very fast.

First off was the way they lined up. The line splits were huge. I mean wide enough to put another body in between each man. They mostly went with a one-back, four-receiver set, but would often motion the back out or line up with an empty backfield. The quarterback never got under center.

Another thing was the pace at which they ran plays, snapping as soon as the officials would allow. These guys were never going to be in danger of a delay penalty.

Coach Tucker said they’d run more than 100 offensive plays in a game once this season and their average was above 80. It seemed their strategy was to wear a defense down by spreading everything out and making you chase them down, then do it again before you could catch your breath.

It worked to the extent that they were averaging nearly 30 points per game, but the fact they were allowing more than 40 had kept them from cracking the win column. I got the feeling their coach was gambling on being able to score on every possession and hoping opponents would stop themselves at least once. It was like an outdoor version of arena football.

We were told our conditioning would be put to the test this week, causing several players to groan in anticipation of the extra gassers we would surely run the next few days.

Defensively, the Bears were pretty vanilla — straight 3-4 with few blitzes or line stunts. They did flex the ends off the line, making our guards and tackles have to go that much farther to engage. Their big problem was a lack of size and speed.

I thought we’d be able to handle it with our one-back power set, which we were supposed to show a little of this week. That would allow us to outnumber them at the point of attack, forcing them to drop the outside linebackers down to play the run.

Suck ‘em up close, then hit ‘em with a play-action pass. Imagine my surprise when I saw a lot of that in our game plan.

We were informed there may be a change to the practice schedule — the forecast called for thunderstorms during the afternoon, but should clear by 5 p.m. — and dismissed in time for the guys who’d actually gotten sweaty while lifting to go shower. I retrieved my backpack and stepped out of the locker room to find Morgan waiting.

I don’t know what was more threatening, the skies or her expression.

“Spill it, boyo,” Morgan growled, coming across like one of those Chihuahuas that thinks it can take down a Great Dane (yeah, maybe if the Chihuahua gets stuck in the Great Dane’s throat). “Marie sent a group text to the six of us asking us all to meet at Arlene’s tonight after practice. It seems you have an announcement to make.”

“Six?” I asked, hoping like hell the little waif hadn’t included Sherry and Elise.

“Arlene and Jan are supposed to join us by phone,” Morgan said.

Well, shit. Looks like my submissive bitch needs another spanking. Or maybe I should tie her up and make her sleep in her own room tonight. I’d try to remember to free her before I left for school in the morning.

“Well?” Morgan demanded, sounding like Mom did just before she tore a strip of hide off me.

“Not here,” I said quietly, grabbing the little elf by the elbow and hustling her away from the fieldhouse. “This is definitely something that doesn’t need to be heard by the wrong people.”

“Such as?” she asked.

“Linebackers who think I’m a threat to their little sisters’ innocence,” I said.

“Yeah, that probably wouldn’t be a good idea,” Morgan said after a couple of steps, casting a quick glance over her shoulder.

We made it to the main building as the meteorological storm drew nearer. I could only hope to delay Morgan from unleashing her own severe outbreak. I didn’t want to think what her reaction might be when she learned she would probably be going without this weekend.

She at least behaved herself as we went through the lunch line, but I could tell she was bursting with questions. Any chance of wheedling information out of me was dashed when Marshawn himself was among the first wave of players to join us.

“So, Mr. Football Genius,” he said with something between a wicked grin and an evil sneer as he sat across from me, “how we gonna stop these dudes Friday night?”

Hey, I was just glad he wasn’t asking me about what I’d done with his little sister.

“Ball control,” I said. “They can’t run 100 plays if we keep their offense on the sideline. We need to put together some 15-play drives and eat up the clock.”

“But what about when they do get the ball?” the linebacker asked. “I doubt Coach Ramirez will have us pullin’ onside kicks all night.”

Much to my surprise, it was Morgan who had the answer.

“Go nickel or dime all night,” she said. “Flex the inside linebackers out to the guard-tackle gaps or wider, which gives us enough run coverage but still allows you to take pass routes over the middle. Mix the fronts between three and four men, then five or six guys in the secondary depending.”

“Look at the big brain on you,” Marshawn cackled. “Are we gonna be able to get pressure on the quarterback with that?”

“Shoot the ends every play and use every blitz in the playbook,” Morgan countered. “Bring a different guy every time — safeties, corners, linebackers when they go empty but not always. There’ll be times we don’t show blitz and still send somebody and times we show blitz and back out. Don’t want to become too predictable. Gotta keep ‘em guessing.”

“Is that your idea?” Marshawn asked.

“No, it’s Coach Fuller’s,” the little elf smirked. “I just looked over the game plan when I printed it out during the period. It was while y’all were lifting. We’re going to show a lot of stuff people haven’t seen yet.”

Every player at the table stared at my little Tommie Landry with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. I don’t think any of them realized just how much football knowledge she’d picked up by working with the coaches these last two months.

“Looks like I’d better get to studyin’ my game plan,” Marshawn muttered.

I ate quickly and used the excuse of needing to swing by my locker to make my escape, assuring Morgan I would make myself available after practice.

The main thing was I was able to get out of there without her or Marshawn bringing up Ny’Quesha. I’d been involved in too many incidents in the cafeteria.

I reminded myself not to have the meatloaf tomorrow.

Once I got to Mr. Henderson’s room, it was back into the routine with a vengeance. I actually worked a couple of the problems I expected to be on the homework assignment as he lectured. The rumble of thunder drowned out the teacher more than once, forcing him to repeat himself, as the storm finally hit.