Chapter 37

"I always ring twice."
P. Mann

I came upon an argument between Chuck and Fran on Friday. Traci and I had finished zero period and we were stopping by my locker to drop off some stuff before I escorted her to hers.

"That's crazy! You'll get yourself killed! Do you even know how to play?" Fran asked heatedly.

Snorting, Chuck replied, "Of course. I'm black. All blacks know how to play football."

The two of them noticed Traci and me and paused their argument long enough to smile and acknowledge us before continuing. Fran asked Chuck, "Does it have to be football? Why don't you try out water polo instead?"

"Yeah right. Niggers can't swim."

I frowned and noticed that Fran was doing the same. For the past few days, Chuck had been making disparaging remarks about his race. Fran started to say something, but Chuck cut her off.

"Besides, I've seen you guys play before; it's worst than football. You got a black eye and nearly broke your nose last fall. At least in football, I'd have padding."

Chuck was referring to a particularly violent game that Fran and I had played when we were still on the Junior Varsity team. It was against Lompoc and there was one player, Number Seven, which seemed to have taken a keen interest in Fran. While groping was nothing new to water polo, Fran's position as goalie made it difficult for her to apply the 'attitude adjustment' technique that Coach Turner had taught the girls. The situation escalated quickly when she and Number Seven had gone after a loose ball. Fran was able to gain possession of the ball, but ended up receiving a nasty elbow to the face. She was out of the game for five minutes until she could get the bleeding to stop. It was not until close to the end of the fourth period that Fran was able to retaliate. While the errant elbow might have been difficult to be determined deliberate, the same could not be said for the ball that was thrown by Fran into Number Seven's face; the force was such that it flew fifteen-feet into the air after striking him. Fran was ejected from the game and we had to play the remaining thirty-seconds 'man down'. Coach Turner did not give Fran any grief at all. Perhaps it was because we were up by five and she had acted only after making sure we had the game in the bag. The next time we played Lompoc, it did seem that Number Seven kept his distance from Fran.

Chuck's reference to Fran's injury did not faze her. Angrily, she said, "You won't need a helmet since you have such a thick head."

The wisest move would be to remain silent, but I never claimed to be practically smart. Not wanting either one to say something that they would later regret, I said to Chuck, "Hey, if you're serious about football, why don't you swing by my house after school."

Suspicious, Chuck asked, "Why?"

"Well, if you do go out for football, you need to be in good physical condition. If you come by my house, we can go running."

Chuck gave me a dubious look, but he nodded his head. He then turned and headed off to his class. Fran lingered around long enough to say, "I'm sorry," before going off to catch up with him.

As I squatted down to dial in the combination to my locker, Traci began to say something, but stopped herself and remained silent. It seemed rather silly to haul around my textbooks since I had pretty much memorized them, but I had to keep maintain the appearance that I needed them. After stowing away all the tomes, save the English ones, I closed the locker and spun the dial. I made a conscientious effort not to look at where the dial landed, but failed.

Walking Traci to her locker it seemed that she was holding my arm tighter than before. I guessed seeing the argument between the Johnson twins had affected her as it did me. With my free hand, I reached over and patted her hand, trying to reassure her that everything would be okay.

I was changing into my sweats when there was a quick knock at my bedroom door. "Come in," I said, and no sooner were the words out of my mouth then Rose flew in. She was clutching an overnight envelope and handed it to me soon after I pulled my sweatshirt over my head.

I glanced at it before handing it back to Rose. Her startled look prompted me to ask, "What? It's addressed to Marge."

"Yeah, but look at whom it's from."

The return address label read from the Law Firm of Philips, Hedges and Benson. The name seemed familiar and it took me a few seconds to recall that it was from my legend; the law firm represented my family and me. Kojonoj, the CYA had been quick to respond. Only three days had elapsed since we had discussed the idea of Marge adopting Rose and already they were sending paperwork. While I was not privy to their procurement process, there was no way they could respond so quickly unless they already had set the plan in motion. I do not know what unsettled me more, that I was so predictable or that they were aware of the situation before I was.

The doorbell rang before I had a chance to reply. Picking up my socks and tennis shoes, I followed Rose out of my room. Chuck was already in the foyer by the time we got there; despite my open invitation to let themselves in, a few of the otaku insisted on knocking or ringing the doorbell before doing so. After giving Chuck a quick greeting, Rose went off to resume her task of sorting the mail she had retrieved from the mailbox. I was lacing up my shoes when Lori came by to investigate who had arrived. She said hello to Chuck as well, but there was the silent conversation that she and I had that went unnoticed by my black friend. 'Do you want me to join you?' was the look she gave me to which I replied with a subtle headshake. Her head nod was as equally subtle and she lingered around long enough to bid us farewell when we left.

After we did some brief stretching, I started off at an easy pace; the muscles I was using having been long neglected. While the zero period swimming class had provided me with a good cardiovascular workout, it was nice to see how far and long I could run. Chuck fell in step beside me and I slowly increased our speed.

I had just begun to work up a good sweat when Chuck reached out and grab ahold of my arm. As we slowed to a stop, I looked over and saw that his tee shirt was drenched with perspiration. His breathing was labored and he hunched over, placing his hands on his knees, when we stopped.

I jogged in place until it became clear that we were not going to be running anymore. Chuck's weight loss seemed to be attributed to his low-carb diet and he had not been doing any type of cardio activity. Physical exertion had hopefully weakened his defenses and I waited until he caught his breath before I began my informal interrogation.

"You know, they do a helluva lot more running in football. Why are you so gung-ho about going out for it?"

"Do I need a reason?" Chuck gaspingly replied.

"Well, yeah. I mean, you haven't shown an interest in football before. You and the gang would only go to the football games if you were going to the dance afterward, and even then, y'all would only come by during the fourth quarter after the box offices closed. Also, Fran does not seem to want you to play..."

Despite Chuck's heavy breathing, I was able to detect the noise of disgust he let out. "What?" I asked him.

"Fran," he answered bitterly. "She is always protecting me. Ever since grade school, she has fought my battles. Whenever she found out that somebody was picking on me, she would seek them out and beat them up. Do you know what that's like?"

"Having someone that cares about your wellbeing? I like to think so."

Chuck rolled his eyes at my response. "Even last week, she had to stick her nose into my business."

I patiently waited for him to continue. Chuck was beginning to get breathing under control and when he saw me silently watching me, he asked, "You know Russell Young?"

I nodded. Russell Young was a junior and one of the Aggies. They were a collection of students that wore boots, Wranglers, and plaid shirts. A few of them even wore Stetsons to school. While there were some that actually grew up and worked on their family ranches, a majority were wannabe cowboys. Russell Young fell into the later category.

"Anyhow, Russell cornered me and was hassling me in Senior Hall. Fran saw it, came over, and pushed him away, telling him to pick on somebody his own size. For a second, I thought he was going to take a swing at her. Anyway, when we were walking away, he told her, 'When you get tired of dark meat, I've got some white meat for ya.'."

"What did she say?" I prompted him when he grew quiet.

"Oh, something like, 'No thanks, I'm a vegetarian.'"

A few seconds elapsed before we both burst out laughing. "What the hell does that mean?" I asked once I was able to control myself.

"Hell if I know. I mean, if she said she preferred fish, then I guess she would be saying that she was like Rose."

We both started to giggle again at Chuck's observation. Once again, I was befuddled at the total lack of logic of the female mind. Then again, in the heat of the moment, it was often difficult to come up with a witty comeback.

"So, because of some redneck asshole, you want to go out for football and get your neck broken?"

Shaking his head, Chuck answered, "Not just that. There's the letterman's jacket."

The letterman's jacket. How one piece of apparel could cause so much grief continued to amaze me. "What about the jacket?"

"You've seen Fran's. When she lettered in volleyball last year, she got a guys one. She told me that way when I got a letter, I wouldn't have to get a girls and that we could remain 'twins'."

There were a few differences between the lettermen's jackets. The guys jacket had leather sleeves while the girls did not. The girls instead had a hood that could be unzipped and hung flat on their back. While Fran was not the only girl who had a 'guys' jacket, there were no guys who had a 'girls' one.

"So you think football is your only option? There are plenty of other sports you could try out for. Fran had a good point about water polo." Chuck started to interrupt me, but I pressed on. "And don't give me any bullshit about blacks not being able to swim. I've seen you plenty of times in the pool at my house to know that you can. By the way, you might not have noticed, but we're getting tired of your racial slams. It is getting old real quick so could you please knock it off."

Chuck started to say something, but stopped himself. Instead, he turned around and began walking back to my house. As I fell in stride beside him, he asked, "Why did you go out for water polo?"

My first instinct was to make a witty comment about seeing Fran in a swimsuit, but like Traci, I did not think he would find it amusing. Instead, I settled for the truth, "I found out that Traci was trying out for it and wanted to spend time with her."

"So why didn't you go out for cheerleading?"

"Ah, well, that was before she was living with me. Now, it is kinda nice that we have our own separate endeavors. Don't get me wrong, I love my sweetheart to death, but if we were with each other twenty-four/seven, it just might end up in death; mine."

Chuck let out an amused snort. "Must be nice having a girlfriend," he observed.

"You tell me," I replied.

"What?"

"Dude, you and Fran are pretty much going out with each other. I mean, you aren't at the lovey-dovey phase yet, but I think it is just a matter of time. And what you were saying before about her leaping to your defense, I've seen you do the same thing when you hear somebody teasing her about her height. Besides, do you really think she would be joining us for game night if you were not there? Dave might be the ladies man, but come on."

Chuck seemed too shocked to be amused at my dig regarding our mutual friend. I took that opportunity to glance around to make sure that the coast was clear. Having chosen our route to remain in residential neighborhoods, the chance of a patrol car passing by was slim. I retrieved my cigarette case and lighter from my sweatpants pockets and quickly lit up.

"Jesus, how in the hell can you smoke now?" Chuck asked, seemingly recovered from my revelation.

How the hell could I not? I started golf practice the next week and would be under my self-imposed restriction of smoking on the weekends. Chuck took a few steps past me when I suddenly stopped in my tracks, an idea forming in my mind. While I wish I could attribute the thought to the influx of nicotine, I knew it was not the case.

"Golf! Why don't you try out for the golf team with me? I mean, if you want to go out for football or even water polo, you'll need to get yourself in better condition. While you are doing that, you could play golf."

Chuck gave me a blank expression before he started laughing. "You crazy, Cracker. A mofo niggah like me being all like Tiger Woods."

Perhaps because there was humor in his voice, his racial slurs did not seem as grating. Still, I gave him a frown to which he quickly replied, "Sorry. That was too easy not to pass up. You are mentally deranged, Caucasian. An African-American such as me, trying to mimic Tiger Woods."

While Chuck was not as masterful with dialects like I was, he was able to capture the New England one perfectly. My frown slowly turned into a grin. "Why not?"

"Besides a few weeks in P.E., I've never played before."

"So? Have you ever played football before? And I don't mean tag or flag." Chuck shook his head so I continued. "I'm not saying that you'll make Varsity, but it will give you some much needed exercise. Trust me; hauling around a set of clubs around a golf course will give you a good workout."

"Clubs. I don't have any."

"No problem. When I talked to Coach Forest about joining the team, he informed me that he had a few sets that people can use. It seems that people like to donate their old golf clubs to the school team when they buy new ones. Besides, I think Lori has an old set that she had outgrown, but should still be suitable for you."

Chuck gave me an uncertain look. After taking a deep drag on my cigarette, I said, "The way it works is that the top six players make up the Varsity team while the next six make up the J.V. one. I don't know how many people are going out for golf, so I can't tell you what our chances are of making either team. Anyway, the roster changes depending on how well people do at practice."