Chapter 5: Fall 1988 - 4

As was often the case, we had the most problems preparing for our next game after coming off a win. The second half had been intense and we only took the lead in the last two minutes of the game. The coaches warned us about Sinclair High School. They were coming to C.M.A. with vengeance. Like us, they had won last week's game.

Personally, I didn't give a shit! After my emotion-filled weekend, a full day and night of sex with Ann Hastings, her admitting that she wanted me from the moment we met, followed by her accusing me of lying about my age and rejecting me had left me in a state of utter confusion. For the second week in a row, Ann had told me that she'd agreed to meet Richard's children. Did this mean she was entertaining marriage? She made it sound like I didn't have a prayer of a chance with her.

Well, Ann Hastings could go fuck herself. I wouldn't fuck her again if she was lying naked on a bed in front of me. I wouldn't fuck her if she begged me.

On Monday I got blindsided in practice and Coach Sterling took me aside to tell me to get with it.

On Tuesday it happened again. I was picturing Ann begging me to fuck her when Scotty Epperson knocked me off my feet. Scotty was a small guard who only got to play when we needed someone to fill in. He was a cocky kid, always bragging about making varsity as a sophomore. He got my attention when he knocked me on my butt. I got up and was trying to make him understand that he had crossed the line, well, I was telling him that I was going to cut off his balls and flush them down the sewer, when Coach Krown blew his whistle and motioned for me to join him for a conference.

This wasn't a good sign. Conferring with the head coach was never enjoyable, especially when he asked Coach Sterling to join us.

"It's a woman, isn't it?" Coach Krown shouted in my face.

"Sir?"

"You heard him," Coach Sterling put in. "You either have a young girl in trouble or you've met a female that won't give it up. Which is it?"

"It's ... it's neither one, Sir."

"We're going to give you something besides pussy to think about, Oldham. Go in for Epperson," the coach ordered.

Epperson wasn't happy about the change, but he had no choice. He moved to the sideline and watched me take his place between Russell and Adam. After practice I was issued a playbook and told to be ready to open up some holes for the running backs the next day.

And that's how I became a two-way player. It was punishment for going to sleep during practice. I played on both sides of the ball the rest of the season, taking my place next to Russell and following his lead. I played guard when we had the ball and middle linebacker when the other team had it. I never liked playing offense as much as defense, but we won four of the last five games that season.

The Sinclair team and their supporters were invited to stay for the dance, but after the beating we handed them they voted to go home, leaving us with our 'sisters' from Speedwell. I danced twice with Marcie Cochran. "Tell me about your ride to school with the 'leg' lady," she said as soon as we started to move to the music.

I didn't want to talk about Karen Parker. "She gave me a ride and she had nice legs. End of story," I said.

"What's wrong Sammy? Last time I saw you she was all you wanted to talk about."

"There's someone else," I admitted.

"Oh?"

"It's her eyes."

"Her eyes?" Marcie laughed.

"It's her eyes and her hands and her smile and the way she looks at me."

"It sounds like you're hooked."

I didn't know how much Marcie wanted to know but I didn't care. I needed to tell someone and I knew she would listen. "I'm obsessed with her. We spent one day together and everything was fine until the next day. I think she's going to marry an older guy."

It was time to escort Marcie back to the Speedwell side of the auditorium. "Dance with me again. I want to hear more," she said.

That order was harder to fulfill than it sounded. Marcie's popularity had dwindled a little in the time since Spence and I had made her a celebrity the previous year, but there was always someone waiting to dance with her and share her unique perspective on current events. I had to wait until the last dance of the day to escort her to the floor again.

"Tell me more about your latest love interest," she said.

"There's nothing else to say. She got the idea I lied to her about my age and she's not going to see me again," I answered, not wanting to talk about Ann Hastings any more. It was the last dance and the open-hand between tummies rule was off. Like the other girls, Marcie was pressing her body to mine and I couldn't help but notice the changes in her body since we first met over a year before. She had clearly been running or working out, but I hesitated to say anything. Remarking that I had noticed how firm her thighs seemed each time they brushed mine or how her breasts rode high on her chest, could backfire. Marcie might not consider it a compliment if I commented about how much weight she had lost. I restrained myself to just enjoying the closeness of her body, her cheek next to mine and the way she whispered in my ear.

"Are you seeing anyone?" I asked, hoping the answer would be yes. It was.

Marcie moved her head to look at me, her eyes beaming. "Doesn't Preston say anything about me?"

Press Morgan had never mentioned an interest in Marcie. "I don't remember," I replied.

"What's your phone number? I'll tell you all about it sometime," she said, seemingly unaware that I had just lied to her about Press. I was sure he hadn't said anything about dating Marcie. I wouldn't have forgotten something that important. I gave her the number for the house, not my private number. We parted after she promised to call me soon.

Mr. Oldham looked irritated when I sacrificed my queen to capture one of his bishops. It was a foolish move, and I wished the second I lifted my hand off of my piece, that I had given it more thought.

"Woman problems?" he asked, causing Suzanne to prick up her ears.

I nodded and watched him finish me off with two quick moves. I asked if I could be excused, saying I wanted to get my uniform ready for Sunday so I could devote the following day to preparing a paper for school. I knew they didn't believe me, but they didn't question what I was really up to.

"Oh, a girl from Speedwell said she might call me. I gave her the downstairs number," I said, glancing at Suzanne who usually answered the phone.

"Why did you give her this number?" Suzanne asked.

"I don't know. I just did," I answered on my way out of the room, and watched Suzanne give me her 'I'll-never-understand-you' look.

I hadn't given Marcie the number of the phone in my room because I didn't want her tying up the line. I still held out hope that Ann would call me.

The real reason I wanted to retire to my room was that I had mail to read from Alice and Trisha.

October 10, 1988

Dear Sweet Sammy,

Your description of rolling around on the rug with a slightly overweight maiden solely for the chance to look into the eyes of the young innocent's unsuspecting aunt was delicious reading. But it proves some things about you that I've always known; you're unconscionable. You're also delectable and I wish you were here right now.

I met Blondie. Do you believe your eyes? I MET BLONDIE!

Oh, Sammy, what should I do? He's not blond; he's a second generation Cuban refugee. And, he's not perfect. The sex is good but...

We met at a law office where I was doing research.

What should I do, Sammy? If I stay here it will break my father's heart. If I go home and work in my dad's law office, it will break Carlos' heart. Please tell me what should I do?

Stay safe,

Alice

I folded the single page and picked up the other letter.

October 9, 1988

Dear Apple,

Thanks for the pictures. I can see why you didn't send them to your mother and I promise I'll never show them to Becky. Those are three beauties. Greg drooled when he saw them. You must have had a fantastic summer.

I'm beginning to wonder about Greg. One minute he talks about us getting an apartment together next year and the next minute he says we should see other people. As you know, we were both virgins until last year and I've never been with anyone else. Well, you wouldn't know that, but it's true. I'm not so sure about him.

You probably think I'm being silly, wanting to remain monogamous, don't you? Okay, you're the wrong person to ask. You don't know the meaning of monogamy. I know of two girls you had sex with when Greg and I were seniors and you were in the tenth grade. Say, did you fuck that older woman? You did, didn't you?

I'll bet you've had your way with those three bikini-clad sisters. Don't tell me. I don't care. Anyway, I would be interested to know what you think of Greg's suggestion that we see other people. Try to think like a female, not like a jock who considers anything in a skirt fair game.

Am I your only female friend you haven't screwed?

Love, Trisha

Spit-shining my shoes was always a thoughtful way to pass the time, something I had discovered my first week at C.M.A. when I was trying to decide if I should try to make another attempt to escape. Something about bringing the shine to a mirror finish made the solution to a problem appear like it had been there all along. By the time I finished the first pair of shoes I knew what I was going to write to Alice and by the time I finished the second pair my answer to Trisha was written in my mind.

Spit-shining my shoes also took my mind off of Ann. For one hour that evening I was able to empty my head of her. Unfortunately, once I'd stored the two pair of shoes the vision of her frail body being held down by Richard's hairy arms overwhelmed me. I couldn't rid my mind of that image ... Ann's body under Richard's ... Ann's face crinkling from the pain as she held the lips of her pussy open to receive his cock.

It was after nine P.M. when I stuck my head into the sunroom to tell Mr. Oldham I was going out for a run.

"Is it really a woman?" Suzanne asked. She wasn't smiling; there was genuine concern on her face.

"Yes, and I've got to clear my head," I said.

It was misting rain when I stepped out the back door. I didn't even consider going back for warmer clothes. I must have run for an hour, around the track, through the neighborhood where Dr. Koskowski and Ann Hastings lived, over to the Baldwin neighborhood and then past the Ford residence before returning to the track. When I got back to the house, Mr. Oldham and Suzanne had gone to bed. I felt drained of energy, finally tired enough to sleep.

Stephanie called the next morning to say she wasn't going to run; it was still misting.

"Are you coming over tonight?" she asked.

"I don't know. I've got to work on my application for school," I lied. It was finished although I did plan to check it over one more time before taking it to the post office to buy the correct postage and mail the packet. I had given up on Dr. Koskowski furnishing a letter of recommendation.

"Are you mad at me because I wasn't here last weekend?"

"No," I said and thinking she needed further explanation, "I missed you but I understood that you had to go someplace."

"I had to take Robbie to my parent's house because Ann was bringing Richard home. He must have stayed all night," she said, giggling.

There was nothing for me to say. I knew Ann had called Stephanie and told her to stay at her parent's house, but I didn't know she'd planned on bringing Richard home and letting him stay the night. I heard Stephanie clear her throat as if she were waiting for me to comment. What did she want me to say?

"Why do you say that? What makes you think he stayed all night?" I asked, wondering if I had left something behind.

"The sheets on my bed had been changed and my room smelled like ... you know ... like ... I think she used my room. She never changes my bed, she just doesn't. I think she was in a hurry and took him into my room. It's the first one you come to after you turn the corner in the hallway. Her room is down the hall and Robbie's is across from her room. Why don't you come over tonight? I'll show you the set-up. That way you'll see what I'm talking about."

I was holding my side, wanting to burst into laughter. Ann had taken me into Stephanie's bedroom because it was the closest one to the front door. I didn't need to see the set-up; I had been there.

"Maybe I can see it another time. I really do need to finish my application," I managed to say.

Stephanie let me off easy. She released me without making accusations that I was angry at her or ignoring her. When I hung up it came to me that I still didn't know how Ann found out I was only seventeen.

Dr. Koskowski called to say she had just finished printing a copy of my letter of recommendation. I told her I would be right over. I didn't mind walking in the rain. A domino was falling, just right. In my mind's eye I saw a two and a one. At least it wasn't snake eyes.

I thanked Dr. Koskowski for the letter and left without opening the envelope. Outside I stared longingly at Ann's house two doors away. I wondered if she heard Stephanie's side of our telephone conversation. Probably not, certainly not the part about her being in such a hurry that she opened the door to Stephanie's room instead of letting me carry her to the end of the hall. I turned and headed for home, disheartened at being so near and yet so far away from Ann Hastings.

Dr. Koskowski was very complimentary. In addition to the letter there was a diskette labeled 'Sammy, ' in the envelope. There was no mention of her professional relationship with me or how we met. She focused on what I had done for Curtis, spotting his need for male companionship, motivating him to exercise and the resulting change my influence had upon him.