81: Hoosier Hysteria

The next week, all the talk at our table and around the school was about prom and sectionals. I only half-listened to the conversation. Donna had called me Sunday night. I kind of jabbered away because I was so happy to hear from her. She said that she could come by on her way home for spring break from Oberlin to film an episode with me. Wow! I hadn't even contacted her. It turned out that Sam did. They'd been in touch several times and Sam had spent the past month convincing Donna to participate.

"Donna, I can't help it. How's Rhonda?"

"I'm sorry, Brian. She's doing okay from what Mom and Dad say. They think forcing her to separate from you all has helped her adjust to life in her new school. She's ... different, though. I think she's fooling them, but I haven't seen her since Christmas. She doesn't even look the same. I'm worried, but I don't know what to do. I hate my decision to come to Oberlin. At least if I was at UIndy or DePauw, I could see her more often. I might transfer at the end of the year."

"You're really the best big sister that anyone could ever hope for, Donna. I'm so glad I'll see you soon. I miss you as much as I do Rhonda."

"You haven't listened all week," Whitney said when we sat down to lunch on Thursday. She was sitting next to me and the next thing I felt was a tug at my shirt followed by two quick snips. I got that shirt for Christmas. I sort of wondered when she'd snip the loop.

"Sorry, Whitney. I've been a little preoccupied. Did I miss something important?"

"Everybody's date plans for prom but yours," she growled.

"Oh. I hadn't thought about it. Uh..." I glanced at Rose and she shook her head. Samantha turned away from me.

"Dad says if I mind my Ps and Qs he'll let me go to the senior prom," Cassie sighed. "Sure hope I have a boyfriend who isn't dense by then."

"I don't want to do the prom thing at all," Liz said. "It's too much pressure."

"I'm with you," Nicki said. "Just being at school makes me want to kill people. I'd be like that movie if I went to the prom."

"Carrie?"

"That's the one. She was so cool!"

"I guess I don't know what I'll do for Prom," I said. I was sure Doug was taking both Rachel and Doreen and was equally sure that Carl would take both Brenda and Louise.

"All right, I've had it, you bastard!" Whitney exploded. She stood up. I thought she was storming away, but instead she started laying fairy loops on the table and counting them out. "One. Two. Three. Four." She just kept going and going. "Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen." Rachel reached across the table to her and Whitney laid the last one on the table. "Fourteen. I've been collecting these for six years. Now as undisputed fairy queen, I call upon the power of the fairy loops. Brian, ask me to the fucking prom, would you?"

"Whitney? Um ... I'm sorry, honey. Do you really want the shortest guy you know to take you to the prom? I mean, will you go to the prom with me?"

"Yay!" Rose yelled.

"It's about damn time," Samantha added.

"Did we really have to get everybody out of circulation before you could get the message?" Brenda asked.

"Let me think about it," Whitney said flatly. "I'll let you know tomorrow. There's this tall guy at MHS who might ask me." She scooped up her fourteen fairy loops and walked out of the cafeteria.

We played MHS in the first game of the 3A Sectionals. I felt bad for the guys from MHS. Nearly the whole school had gone to Indianapolis to watch their girls' team play in the State finals. Even half their cheerleaders had gone to cheer Whitney and her team. I had a feeling the guys playing wanted to be there, too. They practically handed us the game. When we met afterward, we all told them we were cheering for their girls and they all knew Whitney used to play on our JV squad. They congratulated us on our win.

The evening game for the championship put us back against our old rivals, North Riley. We were pretty evenly matched, but the coach's strategy of mixing long ball with layups paid off in the end. For the second time in three years, we were headed to regionals, only this time we all knew we wouldn't be meeting Elkhart again. They were hosting the 4A Regional. It was pretty cool, though, that we'd get to host the Regionals this year.

Whitney hadn't been in school on Friday so I still didn't know the status of my prom date. MHS had a big pep rally Friday morning, supposedly for both the girls' and the boys' teams. Of course, Whitney's team got most of the attention. Apparently it paid off because by the time we'd become Sectional champions Saturday night, Whitney's team had won the first State Championship in MHS history.

I was dreading Monday lunch. I wasn't sure what to expect from Whitney. She'd demanded that I ask her to the prom and then walked away without answering. And at our game Saturday, I'd met the tall guy who took her out a couple weeks ago. I wanted to hate him, but he's a really nice guy. I needed to make sure Whitney knew how much I cared for her, so I'd spent most of Sunday baking cookies and putting together a special offering for her.

When she got to our table I did a little presentation of her gift and got down on one knee in front of her.

"Whitney, I'm afraid I haven't let you know often enough how much I love you. This has been such a weird year and then basketball got in the way for both of us and my stupid TV show ate up all my spare time. I want you to know, though, that I sincerely want to take you to the prom. In spite of that, I really want you to be happy and if you've found a guy that makes you happy at MHS, then I'll be happy that you are. Will you go to the prom with me?"

"Of course I will, you silly ass," she said. Then she leaned close to my ear and whispered, "And I'll be seventeen."

Oh my god!

"You two! No contact! Don't make me remind you," Coach Hancock said when he walked into the exercise room where Whitney and I were working out. "Use the bags. I know you are still sparring when I'm not looking. Coach Mitchell would have my ears if I let you injure his new secret weapon before Regionals. And don't forget the ropes. You climb before you finish." He stalked out the door leaving Whitney and me staring at each other.

"Guess we're not as clever as I thought we were," Whitney sighed. "I haven't really bruised you lately, though, have I?"

"Nothing that lasts more than a day," I laughed. "And my ego. I really thought you might go out with that Center."

"Jim is a nice guy and has been really supportive of the girls' team. Even at MHS there was resistance to giving an equal shot to girls. He rallied the boys' team to support us. He told me he talked to you after the game Saturday."

"Yeah. It was after I talked to him and realized he was a nice guy that I got worried."

"He was a perfect gentleman on our date. I showed him the rules and he agreed to abide by them. But he's a friend. Nothing more."

"Whitney, do you think coach's ban on contact includes kissing? If not, I'd like to give you a good one, right now."

"I'm willing to risk it." We kissed. It's a strange feeling to kiss a girl standing up who is that much taller. My 5'7" to her 6'2", but it really wasn't that difficult. And I really liked kissing her. It was going to be difficult to climb the rope in my current condition.

"You're sure you won't be embarrassed by being with such a short guy at the prom?"

"No. But I might be a little embarrassed if you drool between my breasts all evening."

"I'm not that short! I'm usually able to drool on your collarbone."

"Yeah. But I plan to wear high heels. And a very low-cut dress." I kissed her again.

"You could wear a gunny sack and I'd still drool," I confessed.

"Or a jersey."

"Would you like to go out this weekend? I'm thinking maybe we could go do something fun Sunday afternoon. You know, I've never been bowling."

"Really? An actual date without a special occasion or performing on your cooking show? With me?"

"Whitney, I mean it when I say I love you."

"I love you, too, Brian. It's a date."

I had to go to Ms. Streeter's class after school Friday to audition for the play. She had me read several passages and then called Dorothy Collins in to read with me. She kept having me read Henry Antrobus until I finally asked her if I could please not do a major role.

"I can't prepare something that big. I've been going like crazy all year and I have this television show every week and basketball. I just can't do it." She sighed.

"I really wanted to use you as Henry," she said. "But I understand." She looked at me with a predatory grin. She wanted something else. "The State Forensics Meet is the weekend before Memorial Day. I'll give you the part of the Stage Manager in Act III if you'll agree to compete in poetry at the meet. You could even do more poems by 'Nat Hart' if you want. Just not the same poems. You know now what they'll put you through. Agreed?" What did I get myself into?

"Agreed."

At least on Saturday we didn't have to travel and we were playing the second game in the afternoon. We were ready for the competition. Like us, these teams had already survived a Sectional tourney and there really aren't any easy ones. Syracuse had risen with eight straight wins to close their season and we'd not met them yet. South Whitley had the highest scoring center in our class. And Warsaw just kept bulling their way through everyone they met. Until they met us in the second game that afternoon. We got a late start because the South Whitley-Syracuse game went into overtime and Syracuse finally won by a single point. That put us on the court to face Warsaw.

These guys were the epitome of Prime Hoosier Corn-fed Beef. It was like they moved the front line of the football team onto the basketball court after they'd finished mowing down their opponents on the gridiron. They were known to be pretty physical and we spent most of the first half trying to avoid contact. The thing was that they were good shots, too, and if you let them inside they'd score. They had a three-point lead going into halftime.

"Frost," Coach Mitchell said when we were in the locker room. I looked up and he motioned me to him. Usually he just shouted out anything he wanted to say at the whole team. I wondered what I'd done. "Are you fit?" he asked quietly. "Any bruises I should know about?"

"I'm fit and not showing any bruises, Coach." Where's this going?

"Can you make foul shots?"

"Yessir."

"Can you be a rock?" What the fuck? How did he... ? Yeah, Coach Hancock knew Whitney's and my code. It was reasonable he'd talk to Mitchell.

"Yes, sir. I am a rock."

"I'm going to have you set picks. I want a little surprise for these lugs."

I shuddered. I don't think there was anyone on their team that outweighed me by less than fifty pounds.

The team went out and played with renewed vigor and we tied up the score and went one up on them. That's when they started subtly getting rougher. They were driving through our defenders and blockading the boards. It was about five minutes into the third quarter that Coach sent me in.

"Be a rock." That was all he said.

Josh gave me the inbound pass and I came down court with five fingers raised to call the play. Josh looked at me a little startled and I nodded to him. The defense was waiting for us at mid-court and we started moving the ball. Carl came up and I bounce-passed to him, drawing his defender off to try to intercept the ball. Carl snatched it away and fired it across to Josh. I stepped to the right of his defender to set the pick and Josh went for the basket. I was a rock. Whistles blew. I looked at my feet and there were skid-marks for nearly a foot beside me. I was a rock, but only a 160-pound rock. Damn that hurt. I sank two shots on the intentional foul and Josh had already scored.

They had a guard who was only about 5'10", but he was a bulldozer. We'd been jumping out of his way all afternoon to avoid injury, but this time when he drove for the basket he ran straight into me. I was knocked to the floor in the same position I'd been standing. I shook my head and took two shots on the charging foul.

Apparently, getting knocked on my ass woke the refs up. We had a pretty big cheering section and they were very vocal about the roughness on the court. More fouls got called. I got beat up a bit more before Warsaw realized they weren't just going to muscle me out of the way. That gave the rest of our players some courage, too, and they started holding their positions. We started slowly pulling away.

We were down to the last half-minute of play and led by five. All we really had to do was run the shot clock down. Lionel gave me a signal I couldn't believe. I glanced at Carl and he gave me a thumbs up. Josh brought the ball across the center line and rocketed it to Carl. I ran for the basket. Nobody expected that. I hadn't crossed the three-point line all night. I'm a short guard, right?

I jumped. The ball hit my hands at the same time Lionel's hands grabbed my waist and gave me a boost. I slammed the ball home. The buzzer sounded as whistles started blowing. Even if they didn't count my slam-dunk and gave Warsaw a technical foul shot, we won the game. Turned out that there's no rule against boosting a teammate. We won by seven.

We were laughing and glad-handing like crazy. Most of the guys hadn't seen that shot since Lionel and I did it in seventh grade. We'd practiced it in our pickup games, though. It was impressive. I ended the game with twelve points. I hadn't hit a single three-pointer, but scored ten from the foul line and then the final shot. I pulled my shirt off and headed toward the shower when I heard a couple guys swear. They were looking at me. I looked down and saw the bruise on my shoulder. There was another on my hip. There was a kind of red welt across my chest. I wasn't even sure how I got that one. I looked like I'd been in a car accident.

"Shit," I said. Now that I saw them, I started to feel them as the adrenalin ebbed from my system.

"Frost," Coach hollered. He handed me a second towel. "As soon as you shower, wrap and head for the training room. I want those looked at." I didn't take long in the shower. I just got the sweat out of my hair and pits and wrapped a towel around my waist. I was wondering if Coach would let me go home between games. I had arnica cream there and it would help if I could get some ice. When I walked into the training room, the refs and the official scorekeeper were there. They took one look at me and swore. I had to lift the towel enough to show them my hip. Apparently I had another big bruise on my back from when I landed after the second foul. The refs left after snapping a couple Polaroids of me. The school nurse who was on duty poked around at me but said she didn't think anything was broken. She looked in my eyes to make sure they'd focus, but I hadn't really taken any hits to the head. When she was done, Coach pointed me toward the massage table and left the room. I lay down and sighed. Hands touched my back.

"You look like shit," Whitney said.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Coach Hancock brought me in. I've got cream, but I bet Coach Mitchell won't let you play tonight. You shouldn't have gotten knocked around like that."

"They were bigger than me. I couldn't help it." I sounded whiny even to myself.

"You were standing too tall. You need to lower your center of balance. That second guy would have been out of the game long ago if you'd met him in a crouch instead of standing up," she said. "Geez, Brian, didn't I teach you anything?" She slapped my butt and I rolled over. I hurt too much to get an erection and Whitney giggled about it. "I hope that's working again sometime soon. I can't believe you're naked and I'm giving you a massage and you aren't even aroused."

"If I open my eyes and look at you, that will change," I whispered. "I don't think this is a good place, though."

Chaos erupted when I left the locker room to join the rest of the team for dinner. Not just chaos with the team, there were fans out there and not all of them were ours or friendly. Three State Troopers were out there. I'd fallen asleep on the massage table after Whitney was through with me and Coach woke me up to get some food before we had to dress for the next game. I realized the consolation game must have already started so it was confusing to see all these people crowding the entrance from the gym.

Coach took me out through the class halls away from the gym accompanied by one of the troopers and told me I was through for the day and should go home. Mom and Dad were waiting for me and looked daggers at Coach. Whitney was waiting with them and kept assuring them I was okay. It appeared that she'd missed a bruise on my left cheek. Oh yeah. Now I remembered that elbow.

It seems the refs had taken the photos straight to the visitor's locker room and started in on the coaches. The scorekeeper had the official sheet recording each point and each foul. The refs were joined by the other two refs for the tournament and all agreed that four Warsaw players would be ejected from the following game. The coaches objected. When it came time for the consolation game, Warsaw refused to take the floor. The refs gave them five minutes and then awarded the game to South Whitley as a no-show. A near-riot broke out. In addition to the State Troopers I saw at the locker room, there were three more in the gym with half a dozen sheriff's deputies. Once I was gone, the focus of everyone's rage kind of died and the police cleared the gym, readmitting only the fans of Syracuse and St. Joe Valley.

My teammates did themselves proud, but the truth was that Syracuse had left everything on the court during their first game and just didn't have enough left to match us. I got a call after the game that we'd won. Half an hour later, my girlfriends started arriving. It wasn't the guys this time like when we got together after Whitney's tourney.

Whitney hadn't left my side since I left the gym and we'd gone to a Chinese restaurant downtown to get food with Mom and Dad. When we got home, Sam and Liz were already there. Brenda, Sora, and Rachel came in together. Cassie arrived with Rose. Nicki came alone and last. She hadn't been at the game—too many people. Liz called her. Those two seemed to be getting to be friends. There was a knock on the door after we'd all gone upstairs and Doreen joined us. I had all my girls except Jen and Court. Each one wanted to examine my bruises and had me stripped to my briefs pretty quickly.

"He shouldn't have done that to you," Brenda declared. She kissed me tenderly and stepped away.

"Obviously. That's why the refs ejected him."

"I mean Coach Mitchell. He should have had Carl taking those blows. Or Doug or Lionel. Even Josh and Bert and Phil. It's stupid to put the smallest guy on the court in danger like that."

"He knew I could take it."

"No he didn't," Whitney broke in. "All he knew was what Coach Hancock told him. He had no idea if it was true. He figured he could get you knocked out and the refs would step in earlier."

"We can't know what he really thought," Sora said, stepping up to me. She gave me a deep kiss that I responded to and standing in front of all my girlfriends in just my briefs suddenly became a little uncomfortable. "But he still shouldn't have put you in danger."