Repeat PerformanceChapter 13 A Change in Plansf14
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Once the new week got underway I was able to immerse myself in schoolwork, classes, football practice and study. It was at night, after the lights were out that Cindy crept into my mind, her gentle laugh, the softness of her body against mine and how she said she was willing to do anything for me were the last things I thought of every night. I wondered what she was thinking.
I tried to put her out of my mind. Each night as the room settled down and guys drifted off to sleep I assessed my progress on the football field, in the classroom and tutoring Eddie. In my devious way, everything was going as planned. It was evident that I would be starting the game on Friday, I was excelling in all my classes and Eddie was so far ahead of the rest of his class that we had time to talk about the inter-workings at the Borrow household. Every night I was able to coax him to tell me more about his mother, Celia and Mr. Borrow. There was also the house across the road, shared by a girl, Sherry and her father. Eddie was delighted to relate the details of how his romance with Celia began and progressed but what he didn't tell me was more interesting. I may have been reading between the lines but I was pretty sure that he and Celia were not the only ones having sex.
Like Cindy, Gloria was fearful that our plans to change the Marcie Cochran rule would result in trouble for Spence and me. Unlike Cindy, Gloria was unwilling to lend assistance with the plan. Spence described his girlfriend as being obsessed with her own popularity. She didn't want to do anything that would jeopardize her standing among her peers.
While Cindy's main concern was that I dance with her first, she was willing to do anything to help me. Gloria, on the other hand, refused to become involved in our folly. We resolved to go through with our plan, even without Gloria's support.
The discussion in the room on Thursday night about the upcoming game erupted into an incendiary argument that had to be extinguished by Senior Room Leader Orlando Laredo. The disagreement was mainly between Lester and me.
"We're going to run over you like Sherman at Atlanta," Lester proclaimed.
"Are you starting?" I countered, cockily, having been told by Coach Benson that I would be starting at linebacker.
"Anyone could start on the scrub squad," he said in retort.
"Did you ever start a game when you were a J.V.?" my fellow junior asked. Spence wasn't in the starting lineup but he hoped to play. Lester didn't answer.
I felt compelled to keep the embers burning. "Have you ever been in a real game?"
"Fuck you, Oldham," Lester fired at me, making Orlando assert himself. "No more bickering! Not a word out of any of you, not even a whisper," he said in a stern voice that reverberated off the walls.
The ban on whispering hampered our study. Eddie and I had to improvise, pointing and talking in sign language to finish our study session. It also made it impossible for him to tell me more about romancing Celia. I had been looking forward to hearing about their rendezvous in a clearing behind the Burrow house but Orlando's strict order made it impossible for me to learn more about how the young lovers conducted their secret affair. It would have to wait until Monday night.
The uniforms issued to the junior varsity were ancient. Besides the colors being faded, the jerseys were threadbare and the pants still had grass stains from the distant past. We held our complaints to the minimum, happy to be dressing for a real game.
It was a warm September afternoon when we ran onto the field. The band was playing and the stands were sparsely filled with cadets who were not playing, the girls from Speedwell and a scattering of adults who had come to see their sons play. I spotted Mr. Oldham and Suzanne but couldn't find Cindy in the sea of Speedwell uniforms.
Two referees dressed in black and white striped shirts were on hand to call the game. The J.V. won the coin toss and elected to receive the ball. I knew it was going to be a long afternoon when our offense stalled at our fifteen yard line and our punter shanked the ball. The varsity got the ball on our thirty yard line. On their first play Jeremy Foster took me out with a stand-up body block and their running back rolled past us, me and the safety, for a touchdown. At two minutes into the game the score was seven to nothing.
Our offense promptly coughed up the ball and I found myself back on the field. I hoped Coach Krown would call the same play as before and I got my wish. This time I put a punishing block to Jeremy's midsection and with the help of a kid named Morgan, slammed the ball carrier to the ground. Jeremy went out of the game and I spent the rest of the half waiting for another play to come my way but none did. I guess Mr. Benson saw that the varsity wasn't going to test me again. He called me over and told me to try blitzing but only on his signal. I kept watching but the signal never came until the varsity lined up on our five yard line with thirty seconds to go in the half.
The score was twenty-four to nothing and a sack would be meaningless in the outcome of the game but I was overjoyed when I saw Mr. Benson remove his hat and throw it to the ground. I tapped Press Morgan on the ass and he turned his head to acknowledge his understanding that I was going to go after the quarterback. Preston Morgan was a burly kid from company D and I liked playing behind him. At first he showed alarm, like I had goosed him or something but then he winked and turned back to watch for the ball to be snapped. I really liked playing behind Press Morgan when he moved the guard out of the way, giving me space to get by the two big guys. Fortunately for the varsity, for the school and for me, the back-up was playing quarterback. Bruce Craig's eyes doubled in size when he spotted me. Bruce Craig, the sophomore in room Three C when I was a freshman, didn't even think of protecting the ball. He ran for his life. Bruce Craig, the sophomore who had bullied me when my bunk was above his, looked scared. Bruce Craig must have thought that if he didn't have the ball in his position there was nothing that I could do to him. Bruce Craig was wrong. Our safety picked up the ball where Craig dropped it, and ran to the other end of the field, untouched by any of the three members of the varsity that followed him down the field.
Naturally the touchdown was called back and we were penalized fifteen yards for what they called a personal foul. At halftime both coaches chewed me out for my unsportsmanlike play. Mr. Borden told me that if I ever did anything like that again I would be removed from the football program, if not expelled from the school. Mr. Benson said essentially the same thing only he worded it differently. "If you ever make an opponent scream like that again you will be running laps all day Saturday and Sunday. Start the second half at middle linebacker and try to ease up on dispensing so much pain. Tackle the man, not his balls."
I had not touched Craig's balls. All I had done was squeeze his leg muscle a little. But from the way he screamed it may have sounded like I had his nuts in my grip.
We lost the game, twenty-four to thirteen but we had more reason to celebrate in our locker room after the game than the varsity had. "I want to see the same enthusiasm you displayed today carried out at practice next week," the coach said, looking directly at me. We had held them to only one first down in the second half. Press Morgan and I had caused the varsity to turn over the ball three times but unfortunately, our offense couldn't move the ball much better than our lofty opponents. Even Mr. Borden had to admit that my sack of the quarterback in the first half had turned the game around.
When we walked into the auditorium we knew something was wrong. There was no music and the Colonel stood in the center of the room. He waited for us to take our places with our roommates before he spoke. "Football is sacred at Cromwell Military Academy. We practice football to teach discipline, teamwork, sportsmanship and leadership. We play football competitively to test what we have learned in practice. Congratulations to those of you who passed your test today. Shame on those who failed," Colonel Travis said, surveying us with piercing eyes, pausing occasionally to stare at those who had failed. His eyes locked with mine for several seconds before he released me. "Let the music begin; enjoy yourselves," he ended the speech and walked off the floor.
It had been prearranged by coin toss that I would dance with Marcie Cochran first. But when I saw Cindy waiting for me across the auditorium I told Spence that I would have to dance with her first. He said okay and we walked across the floor together but I lost track of him as soon as I approached Cindy.
It took half of the first dance to get her to smile. "What did you do to that boy?" Cindy asked, mortified. "Everyone says you gave him a concussion."
"It was payback time. He should have been paying attention," I said, relishing the way she felt in my arms. "You're not going to hold it against me this weekend, are you?"
"I'm going to do more than hold it against you," she laughed and I felt the stiffness in her back relax. Soon she was telling me about her talks with Gloria and her attempts to befriend Marcie Cochran.
"Did you talk to Celia Johnson?" I asked as the song ended.
"Where's that coming from? What's your fascination with the black girl?" she asked as I escorted her back to the Speedwell side of the room.
"I just wondered if you talked to her," I answered, wondering why I was being defensive with Cindy. By my count I had made six tackles single-handedly during the second half and now I was letting a one hundred and ten pound female give me the jitters. "Thank you for dancing with me, Miss Baldwin." She smiled and told me to come back soon.
Marcie Cochran was not difficult to find. The school uniform hid the curves in the other girls' figures but it actually flattered Marcie's, making her appear as if she had one.
"May I have the honor of this dance, Miss Cochran," I said to the stone-faced girl.
"How do you know my name?" she asked, accusingly. But school rules prevailed. She had to accept my offer to dance, even if she decided to end it before the music stopped playing. Reluctantly, she walked onto the dance floor with me and let me put my right hand on her back.
"Didn't Cindy Baldwin tell you that I was going to dance with you? My name is Sammy Oldham. Cindy's my girlfriend and since we can't dance every dance together I decided to dance with you."
"Is it because you lost a bet?" she asked, looking off at a distance to see if there were onlookers watching us. There were. We were attracting the attention of fellow students on both sides of the room.
"I told you the reason," I said, acting displeased at her accusation. She turned her head to look at me.
"You're the one that sacked the quarterback, aren't you?"
"You know something about football," I said, expressing more excitement than the observation warranted. But I was right; she did know something about football.
"I love it! My dad and I watch the pros on TV and he explains the plays," Marcie said before catching herself and making the frown reappear.
"I don't watch the pros play. All I know is high school football."
Suddenly we were talking about football. "I liked the shot you gave the QB but you guys would have won if you hadn't gotten so many dumb-ass penalties," she observed.
"You're right," I agreed with her. Marcie didn't exactly smile but she seemed to take some pleasure from my compliment.
"You wouldn't have gotten to the quarterback if it hadn't been for the tackle opening a path for you," she commented and I thought, wow, she really does know something about football.
"That's Press Morgan. Would you like to meet him?"
Marcie actually blushed but looked thoughtful for a second. "I would like to give him a pointer about his stance," she said.
"Thank you for dancing with me, Miss Cochran," I said when we reached the Speedwell side of the auditorium.
"Call me Marcie, please," she whispered. Spence was there, asking her for the next dance. I heard annoyance in her voice but Marcie let him lead her to the floor.
"Gloria's pissed at you," Cindy said when we took the floor for our second dance together. "You're going to have to dance with her because you made her miss a turn with Spencer."
"Okay," I said, not wanting to tell her that she was the reason Gloria missed her turn dancing with Spence. "Which one is she?"
Cindy pointed out the brunette with dark red lip-gloss. Gloria was watching us and I could see what Spence meant about her wanting to be popular. She gave me an exaggerated wave and smile that looked less than genuine.
"I talked to Celia and I met Eddie," Cindy admitted.
I held her at arm's length and looked at her. "Why?" I asked, astounded.
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