“Well, I don’t play football, either; not my kind of game. I play a little tennis, but I’m sort of saving myself for the basketball season.”
“There you go. I don’t want to brag but I’ve got some moves that’ll … Oh, turn right at the next corner. We live in the third house on the right. Beige house with a brown roof.”
“That one? Okay, Stretch, see ya later. Hope you got some good classes.”
“If leftovers are good, I’m excellent. There wasn’t much open.”
Buck parked in the driveway in front of a dark-blue Jeep Cherokee, which still was full of boxes, and snorted. “More likely we’ll be in nearly all of the same classes. There aren’t very many required classes that don’t include all of us juniors. And a few flunky seniors, too.”
“Yeah, I know how that goes. Why do you think I had to sign up for mostly required classes?”
“All right, then. Later.” Buck waved vaguely at him as he climbed down from the pickup. Justin watched as the truck backed into the street and roared away. When the sound died the sound of “Hold On, I’m Coming” floated out to him. His mom must have hooked up the stereo, and when she played Sam and Dave, it meant that she was in a good mood. Maybe too good.
Chapter Three
Justin pushed open the front door as far as it would go. A tower of empty boxes blocked it from swinging against the wall, and the floor of the living room was littered with crumpled newspaper and smaller boxes. More boxes, unopened, were stacked on the sofa and coffee table. His mother sprawled in the recliner, a glass wrapped with a beige napkin in her right hand, a cigarette in her left. The clattering from the kitchen told him that Sharice must either be washing dishes or breaking them so she wouldn’t have to.
“Hey, Mom. I got enrolled.” He dropped the packet of enrollment papers for Sharice on the coffee table.
“That’s good, honey. You haven’t eaten yet, have you?”
“No. I got a ride with a guy, and we stopped by the Dairy Spot, but I just had a Coke.”
“All right. I’ve got some pizza thawing out in the oven; it should be ready in a minute or two. I had to take a break.” She took a final drag on her cigarette and ground it out in an old green coffee cup.
Justin glanced at the glass in his mother’s hand. Her eyes followed his to the glass.
“No, honey, I made you a promise. It’s just iced tea. We’ve got a new life here, and I’m going to stay straight. Besides that, the first time I’d take a little snort the whole town would know. Two of the neighbors have been over already, and one of them walked right in the door. Didn’t even knock; just stood right where you’re standing and hollered until I came out of the back room.” She shook her head.
“She was nice, though. Brought over half of a chocolate cake.”
Justin carefully lifted a box off the coffee table and sat on the end. “Yeah, I met some guys who’d just finished football practice. Oh, and Mom, I think I’ll go down and watch them tomorrow. Is that all right?”
“Football? Already?”
“Yeah, they’ve been practicing for a week or two. I’ll help you clean up these boxes and stuff this afternoon and work on the yard, too. Oh, and is my copy of the medical certificate from baseball in with your papers in the filing cabinet?”
She gave him a sharp look. “I think so, honey. You can look … if you can find the filing cabinet. It might be in my bedroom downstairs under some boxes.”
He chuckled. “Okay, I get the hint. We’ll get this place shaped up today. So it’s all right?”
“Well, I guess so. Just be careful. It gets pretty hot around here.”
“No problem, mom. It was hot playing baseball afternoons in Topeka, too.”
“Oops … I smell pizza. I’d better take it out.” His mother shifted her bulk forward.
“No, you stay put. I’ll get it out.” Justin jumped to his feet, stepped over a box, and headed for the kitchen.
“Never mind, I got it!” Sharice already had both hands encased in mitts. “You get enrolled?”
“Yep. And I met a bunch of football players. I’m going to watch them practice tomorrow.”
The oven door banged shut as she whirled around. “Football? Cool! Can I come and watch, too?” She turned and carefully opened the oven door. Pepperoni fragrance filled the kitchen.
“Naw, it’ll just be practicing. Just something to do around here. Nothing to see, yet.” He noted the slump of her shoulders. “I’ll let you know when it’s time.”
Sharice expertly slapped the pizza onto the counter and cut it into six wedges, and then she laid them on plates. “Here, take yours and Mama’s out into the living room. I’ll bring glasses and napkins and the Dr Pepper.”
Justin smiled at his sister’s sudden sense of domestic responsibility. “Yes, ma’am!” he nodded to her and stepped into the living room.
His sister followed two steps behind. “Oh! And guess what! We’re going to get a car, you and me, Justin!”
Justin stared at his mother. She nodded, chewed vigorously, and swallowed. “You’re both going to need transportation to and from school, and with my hours, I’m not going to be able to provide it. Justin, that means you’ll be expected to drop Sharice off in the morning and pick her up after school. It’s going to be a new responsibility for both of you. You’ll have to share it, including taking care of it and paying for the insurance. Understood?”
Justin and Sharice both nodded in unison, and Sharice deposited a two-liter bottle of Dr Pepper and glasses on the coffee table and skipped back out to the kitchen.
“But how are we going to pay for it?” Justin asked.
“I’ve got enough in my savings for a down payment, and you’ll be expected to help out with payments when you can. All right?”
“Well … I guess I can ask around about a job. And one of the guys thinks he’ll have a cheap, I mean an inexpensive, car for sale in a few days.”
“Can I get a job, too?” Sharice re-entered the room with a wad of napkins in one hand and her own plate of pizza in the other. “I want to help out, Mama. It should be my responsibility as much as Justin’s.”
“I know, Shar. Maybe I can ask around at work and see if anyone needs a good babysitter. Okay?”
“Yeah, Mama. Oh, Justin, let’s get a red car. Maybe a convertible?”
Justin and his mother exchanged glances and smiled.
* * *
The afternoon proved to be a workout for the three of them. By seven o’clock, the bulk of the boxes were stacked next to the garage, waiting for recycling later, and only a few boxes to be unpacked later were left on the enclosed porch in back. Justin even had time to run the lawn mower around the small yard, although he decided that he’d wait and chop down the horseweed along the back fence later. He didn’t want to run out of things to do just yet, and besides, the sun was about to melt him down.
He was on the last lap around the yard when he realized that a silhouette of a man was standing on the sidewalk in front of the house, hands on hips. Justin pushed the lawn mower across the last stand of grass and let up on the safety handle. After the noisy lawn mower, the silence almost echoed.
“I don’t want to keep you from your work,” the man said. “You Justin Jefferson?”
“Yes, sir. And I’m done mowing.” Justin pulled a rag from his back pocket, mopped his face and arms, and stepped to the sidewalk. “I’d shake hands, but … “
“That’s all right. I’m Coach Greene. Football coach, not to mention wrestling and track. I hear you might be interested in playing football with us this season.”
So news does travel fast in this town, Justin thought. “Well, I guess some of the guys I met today at the Dairy Spot thought I should come over to the field tomorrow and check it out.”
“That’s what they said. And I suppose they told you we’ve only won a half-dozen games in the last three seasons.”
“Something like that.”
“Well, it’s the truth. Justin, it’s no
secret that I’m probably a much better wrestling coach than a football coach, and both the wrestling and track teams send a pretty good group of athletes to state each year.” Coach Greene paused and looked across the yard. “I’d really like to have a winning football season this year, too.”
Justin nodded, wondering where this was all going. He finished rubbing his hands with the rag, looked at it, and stuffed it into his back pocket and pulled up his t-shirt to wipe his face.
“The biggest problem is … well, it’s the same old story: attitude. The players think they’re going to lose most of the time, and that’s exactly what happens when it gets tough in the tight games, even though they’ve got pretty much the same abilities as the other teams do. I’ve told the team already that if we don’t have a winning season this year, I’m resigning. We play nine games, seven of them against other league members, and we need to win at least five. And … if I resign one coaching job, I won’t have a prayer to keep the others.”
Justin squinted at the coach. Do I really need this pep talk? he thought. A game’s a game, and a job’s a job. And if you lose one, you just go after another, right? And what would be so wrong with just packing up and leaving this dead town?
“Well, you’ve got the general picture, Justin. I don’t want you to think you’d be joining a bunch of losers, because they’re not. They just need a little spark to get them going, to change that losing attitude. And I can’t promise you a place on the starting team, either. You’d probably play on the jayvee team for awhile. We’re sort of light on receivers, though. You ever play much football?”
“Uh … well, I played in middle school. And I went out for the team when I was a freshman. But I got cut because … I didn’t pass all my classes. So I wasn’t really eligible for sports last year. I played some baseball this summer, though.”
Coach Greene took off his cap and rubbed his thinning hair. “All right, I understand. We can help you stay eligible. We have a couple of study programs for those who have problems with their classes.”
“Coach, I didn’t really say I wanted to play football. I’m not sure …” Justin’s voice trailed off, and he looked across the street at the house on the other side. That yard needed more work than the Jefferson’s yard had, he noticed.
“I’m not trying to pressure you, son. It’s just that we’ve already been practicing for a couple of weeks, and most kids who move here want to go out for some sports. There’s not really much else to do in town. There’s still room for you on the team, if you really want to be a part of the action.”
Justin looked at the top of one of his green-stained sneakers and then faced the coach. “I don’t know, Coach. I suppose I could get involved in something here. I wasn’t really into anything at Topeka High, and I can’t say that I made very good grades, either. But my mom expects me to make something out of myself here. And I guess I can’t go back to …” His voice trailed off.
“Fair enough. Like I said, we can help you with the academics. In fact, about half of both the football and volleyball team members show up for the before-school study program, and some of them don’t really have any problems with their grades. They just need a quiet place to study for a half-hour or so. But you’ll have to make up your mind that you want to do your best on the field. You’ll have to provide that winning attitude yourself. Now, I brought you a high school activities association physical exam form. You’ll have to get an examination before you can really practice.” Coach Greene pulled a folded paper from his hip pocket and handed it to Justin.
“I’ve got a doctor’s certificate from when I played baseball this summer, coach. Will that do?”
“Well, it might get you on the field for a few days, but we’re liable for anything that happens to you. Bring it with you tomorrow and I’ll take a look at it. But you’ll need to see Doc Giles this week. He only charges about ten bucks for a sports exam, and his office is right down town on Main Street.”
“All right. I’ll give it a shot. What time, and where’s the field?”
“Seven a.m. sharp. And the field’s two blocks west of the Dairy Spot, just north of the high school. We’ll see you there.” Coach Greene took a step to his right but turned back and thrust his hand at Justin.
“Welcome to the Niotaka Eagles, Justin. I think you’re going to like it here.”
Justin took the coach’s outstretched hand.
“Thanks, Coach. I’ll be there.”
Chapter Four
Justin’s head jerked as he retched, and retched again. Behind him, from the center of the field, he could hear chuckles.
“C’mon, guys, haven’t you ever seen anyone selling Buicks before? Let him finish!” the voice of Eric floated across the field.
Justin wiped his eyes and spat a final time. His knees were shaking, but he managed to stand up, not looking at the remains of cornflakes on the sidelines. Not looking at him, an assistant coach handed him a water bottle.
“Here, rinse out your mouth, and take it easy for a few minutes.”
“You all right, kid?” Coach Greene called from the field.
“Yeah, sure,” Justin managed to croak.
“All right, men, let’s knock off a little early today anyway; it’s past ninety already, I think,” Coach Greene said as he shaded his face with his clipboard so he could check out the sky. From horizon to horizon, not a cloud promised relief.
“I’m sorry, Coach,” Justin mumbled. He spat in the general direction of the cornflakes and handed the bottle back to the assistant.
“It happens, man.” The assistant tossed the bottle in the general direction of the bench and trotted towards the locker room. “All right, gentlemen, we’ve had enough fun today. Hit the showers and cool off.”
Most of the players were finished and gone by the time Justin was struggling to pull his t-shirt over his head. His eyes re-focused on the only other black team member, T. J. Watkins, who was standing two feet in front of him.
“Hey, man, that shirt gettin’ too tight for you?”
Justin shrugged.
“Been workin’ out a little, aintcha? But it didn’t help you when you had to blow your breakfast, did it?”
Again Justin didn’t answer. He’d noticed that T. J. hadn’t said anything to him on the field. The other team members had at least a passing comment or two, when there was time for small talk. But T. J. had managed to stay away from him.
“Let me ask you something,” T. J. continued. “Did Coach Greene come to you with a sad speech about the team being a bunch of losers and how he was going to quit if we didn’t start winnin’ games?”
Justin pulled on a shoe and balanced the other on his right knee before he answered. “He said that there was an attitude problem with the team. And he might quit if we didn’t have a winning season.”
“Yeah, well, I think we all got the same speech before the season started. What it is, is that Coach Greene’s the one with the attitude problem, not us.”
Justin pulled on the right shoe and leaned back against the cool concrete.
“And let me tell you something else, Slick. Don’t get any big head ideas about being the star receiver when it come time for us to draw positions. You look to me like you belong on the line anyway.”
Voices drifted down the hallway, and Coach Greene and the assistant came into sight.
“Whatever, T. J. I’m just going to go out and play football and have some fun.”
T. J. glanced over his shoulder. “That’s right, Slick. And go easy on breakfast tomorrow.” He slapped Justin on the shoulder and sauntered down the hall, muttering a rap line to himself.
The two coaches stopped in front of Justin. “Getting tips from T. J. already, eh?” Coach Greene followed T. J.’s departing figure until he was out of sight.
“Sure, Coach. He might just have something there about going easy on breakfast.” Justin stood and stretched.
“And that’s about the end of his expertise,” the assistant grinned. Coach Gr
eene glared at him, and the assistant raised both palms and walked quickly down the hall.
“Justin, you remember what I said about attitude last night at your place?”
“Sure, Coach.”
“Well, let me just say for the record that I liked what I saw on the field today. Now, you were definitely a little rough around the edges, but you weren’t hot-dogging it, either. I think we can make a ball-player out of you, if you can take directions.”
Justin stared at the coach. “I can take directions, Coach. What do you want me to do?”
“Like I said, just take directions. And the first one is, ’Think for yourself’.” He stared down the hall. “Get my drift?”
Justin pictured T. J.’s frown and nodded. “Got it.”
“All right, then, son. I think you’d better go see Doc Giles for your physical this afternoon. Bring the certificate with you tomorrow, and we’ll see you tomorrow morning.” He slapped Justin on the shoulder and trotted down the hall after the assistant.
Friends and enemies seem to be easy to come by in this town, Justin thought. Let’s see if either is still in the parking lot.
No team members’ cars were left in the parking lot, so Justin squinted against the sun and strode across the field in the direction of the Dairy Spot.
As he walked along the cracked sidewalk, he noticed sharp contrasts between some of the yards. Most were carefully manicured, with flowers and shrubs strategically placed in front of the houses, but a few had wilted-looking lawns which apparently had not been mowed for a week or more, although they weren’t really to the point of being called shaggy. Maybe there was some quick cash waiting there for him, he thought. But first he’d better check it out with the guys.
The juke box wailed something about a phone booth in Cheyenne, and the electronic sounds of a pinball machine echoed across the vinyl benches and red-topped tables. The guys were in their usual round booth at the back, the girls closer to the front. This time they kept talking, and Justin couldn’t help but notice their eyes following him. He nodded in their general direction without saying anything. No one had paid him much attention in Topeka, and he usually had to do something stupid to get a female to notice him, like snatching a note or a book away from her, which usually got some kind of screaming reaction. Well, that was kid stuff, he decided. In this town, you just strut your stuff and take your chances on who or what was going to pay attention.