Chapter 6

Nampa, Idaho, was not the most exciting town I'd ever seen, but then I wasn't there to sightsee. On Tuesday we polished off a team from Oregon. Oregon and Washington actually had two teams in the tournament, a Northen team and a Southern team. Ashley, Robbie and I celebrated with a dinner at the local Outback.

Wednesday we rolled over the team from Wyoming, and Thursday the host team from Nampa dropped into the loser's bracket. Friday we went international. Alberta's team at ten in the morning, then the team from Hawaii at six. Two games, two wins.

Saturday evening was shaping up into a grudge match. In the morning we had Alaska and then, if we didn't get beat, our team, representing Northern Washington, against the team from Southern Washington. The last two undefeated teams. The loser would still have a chance to come back through the loser's bracket and play in the final on Sunday.

I suited up in my motel room. This was the big day.

I tied my shoes and straightened. You couldn't pay me enough to miss this. I let myself out and walked down the hall to three twelve.

I knocked.

"Who is it?" a girl's voice called out.

"Golden Gate Escort Service!" I yelled, keeping my voice deep. "You need an escort?"

"What?" came a confused voice.

I knocked again.

"Who are..." The door opened. "What... ? how... ? what... ?"

"I think that's why I love you. Never at a loss for words." I grinned.

"How... ?"

I stepped in the door and pulled Tami into my arms, kissing her deeply.

"Tami, did you really think I'd miss this?"

"But I didn't tell..."

"Lady, you've been acting weird ever since you found out that the regional tournament was this weekend. You think I wouldn't get suspicious and ask questions?" I kissed her again, and winked at her mother sitting on the bed in the room.

"But you're in Idaho."

"I'm a man of many talents. Being in two places at once is just one of them."

"But..."

"Tami, I was in Idaho this morning. We beat Alaska by the way. Just after noon, I got on one of them thar flying contraptions, and now I'm here."

"But you have a game tonight."

"No. I have a date tonight. Besides, they won't let me wear my tux on the field." I let go of Tami, stepped back and twirled showing off my tuxedo. "And, I'd like to point out, I don't even like to wear a tie, so you better win tonight."

"God, I'm glad you're here," she said and melted into my arms again.

"... and thank you. This was a tough year for the judges. All the entries were excellent." the M.C. said, glancing down at his notes.

I wondered if any announcer anywhere had ever said it was an easy decision.

"One hundred and thirty-six articles were submitted to the panel by the editors of local papers. The panel managed to cull them down to the final eight, represented here tonight. These eight articles represent the very best of high school journalism in the western United States. The Bothwell foundation is proud of all of them. All of those final eight will be receiving a plaque and a brand new laptop from Compaq to make their future writing endeavors easier."

"That is cool," I whispered to Tami, who seemed to be in shock.

"The second runner-up, and winner of a five hundred dollar scholarship, from the Growl, at North Marion High School in Aurora, Oregon, Jerry Todd, for his article on dirty tricks in school politics." There was a lot of applause as a guy about seventeen or eighteen made his way to the podium. He was only wearing a suit, which made me feel special in my tux, even though it felt like the damn thing was trying to strangle me.

It took a couple of minutes for him to thank his writing teacher, his journalism teacher, and his editor and declare that his five hundred dollars would go toward a journalism major at Oregon State.

"The first runner-up, and winner of a twenty-five hundred dollar scholarship is very special. Of course all of our finalists are special; in fact all of our entrants are special. But this young lady is the youngest ever to be a finalist. In fact, she's the first freshman ever nominated. From the..."

"Tami," I said, shaking her. "He's talking about you."

... Washington, Tami Sharp, for her article on wife abuse."

Tami sat, staring at the podium. I reached over and pinched her side. She jumped, glared at me for a second, then stood to loud applause. She walked up to the podium in a daze, accepted her plaque, then faced the audience.