Chapter 19: Sammy's Life takes a turn

I got into a little trouble when I was fourteen. My name is Sammy Kovel Oldham and this is my story. I've related in the previous chapters how I was sent to live in with my guardian, John Oldham and how he assumed the responsibility for my education. Mr. Oldham placed me in Cromwell Military Academy where I endured hazing from my fellow students and strict discipline dispensed by the instructors. On weekends, I received love and attention from Mr. Oldham and his friends.

I attended C.M.A. three of my four high school years. During that first year I was transformed from an undersized, frightened lad of fourteen to a confident, somewhat studious athlete. To the school I brought unimaginative deceit and feeble excuses. From it I took a better than average academic record, a sense of athletic accomplishment and lasting friendships.

At C.M.A., I was thrown in with a group of troubled teenagers who came from families wealthy enough to afford the tuition, but too busy to give their child the attention and guidance he deserved. We were kept so busy we didn't have time to get into trouble while at school; every minute was programmed. It was the school's philosophy that a young man's education was best taught through military discipline and teamwork through football. All students wore the military style uniform and, except for members of the band and seniors who failed to make the varsity team, we all played football.

We studied, practiced, talked, ate and slept football. It served as our physical education class and also the course of study for strategy and logic. Unlike other schools, C.M.A. didn't play other sports and C.M.A. was not a member of any organized football league. Unlike other schools, we only practiced two hours per day. But like everything else at the school, those two hours of practice were intense. Not a minute was wasted. Every practice was filmed and watched during our evening meal where logic, strategy and teamwork were spoon-fed to us along with the food. Even with all the emphasis on football, we weren't very good. My freshman year we only won three games and didn't do much better my junior and senior years when I dressed for and started every game. We had no illusions about playing college ball. No college scouts came to our games. When we won we celebrated. When we lost we showered and got dressed quickly so we could attend the post-game dance.

Looking back it's an easy analysis of what the school was about and why Mr. Oldham sent me there. But back then I was getting to know my preferences, striving to get more of what I liked and avoiding what I didn't like. One thing I liked was girls, especially Debra Simmons. I saw dancing as a requirement to meeting Debra and I saw Alice's instruction as the bridge that would take me there. Along the way, I discovered that the bridge was where I really wanted to be. Crossing it didn't seem as important anymore. It hit me the Saturday before our game with Dearborn Military Academy when my goal to meet Debra Simmons was within reach.

By then the lessons had become less instructional and more fun. After only four lessons I felt sure of myself, light on my feet. We had become very familiar with the other's moves. Near the end of the session we were just goofing around, practicing the dip which I would probably never use at a high school dance. I dropped her. I don't know if my foot slipped or if she missed my cue but Alice went down hard. I fell to my knees and peered down at her, frightened that she had bumped her head. She opened her eyes and the look I saw frightened me even more. It was a serious, open-eye stare that caught my complete attention and held it. Neither of us spoke. I'll always maintain that this was the minute, minutes that changed our relationship. I had tried to hide my feelings toward her but in that minute they must have spilled out. She saw it in my eyes because my feelings were mirrored in hers.

We talked about my anticipated meeting with Debra the following Friday and Colleen coming home for Thanksgiving two weeks later. Alice kidded me about my busy love life. But there was an under current, something I couldn't shake. We parted soon after, she wishing me luck.

Dearborn Military Academy won the game, 20 to 6 and their band played Waltzing Matilda at least four times during the game. I spotted Debra seated on the other side of the field among her Forrester classmates and kept her in my sights for much of the game. It was only when their band played the dreaded waltz that I turned my attention to the field to see what disaster had stuck our team. The game couldn't end soon enough for me. I counted the minutes until the post-game dance would begin and I could hold the girl of my dreams.

By this time my infatuation with Debra was well known throughout the school, no doubt due to my constant demands for information about her from Charlie. "Did you see her this weekend? Does she attend the same parties as you? What was she wearing? Did you talk to her? Did you mention me?" Charlie always seemed a little too prepared with his answers. "Yes, I told her all about you. She's anxious to meet you. She says she's never met a scar-face before."

Half way through the dance I realized what they were doing. It was a conspiracy; my fellow students were monopolizing Debra so I couldn't get near her, let alone dance with her. I could only stand and watch as guys took turns making sure I saw them dancing with her. There was a rule that limited consecutive dances with the same girl to one so it took a coordinated effort to make sure she was always kept occupied with a fresh partner. As soon as she was escorted back to the Forrester end of the auditorium another cadet from C.M.A. would snare her. Cutting in was not allowed. I knew what they were doing but short of taking a swing at one or two of them there was nothing I could do. I was frantic.

When the last dance was announced my roommates took pity on me. I don't know if it was prearranged or decided on the spur of the moment when they saw how downcast I was about failing to reach the goal I had looked forward to for so long. Jarvis and Craig forcefully marched me to the Forrester end of the room. I saw Dale, Smitty and Carter standing guard around Debra, dissuading would-be requestors for the next dance with her. Charlie was there too. "Miss Simmons, I would like for you to meet my friend, Sammy Oldham," Charlie introduced us.

I was tongue tied. The sentence that I had practiced dozens of times lay submerged somewhere in the recesses of my mind, completely scrambled. The smile that formed on her lips saved me and my desire to meet her, to hold her and talk to her forced me to mutter, "Miss Simmons, may I have the pleasure of this dance?"

Cheers flooded my ears as we took to floor. They had interceded on my behalf and I was overwhelmed with their act of kindness, so much so that for a few seconds I forgot to give Debra my complete attention. She floated in my arms, her smile ever present. "You must know that I've wanted to meet you ever since the first game of the season," I said when I was sure it was really Debra I was dancing with.

She looked puzzled. "How would I know that?"

"Charlie told you. Didn't he tell you about me wanting to meet you?"

This struck her funny somehow. "Charlie Evans? I haven't seen Charlie since I rode home with them after the other football game with your school. That's been weeks."