From Bromance to Romance
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EchoesChapter 8: Romance Lives free porn video
Life and school quickly slipped into a pattern. Not a comfortable pattern. Nothing could be comfortable that had football practice as a part of it.
The classes were fine, and after a week, I had decided I was going to like my English class more than Math, despite my initial impression. Mr. Halsey didn't fade, rather Mrs. Irving came on strong.
We had our first cross country meet the weekend after school started. It felt strange the first time, to be wearing the red and white colors of the Hermiston Bulldogs. We ran our own course, one I'd now run almost every day for a week. Our opponents were Stanfield, and I placed seventh.
I became intimately familiar with the ravine section of the course when Steve Jackson bumped me off the trail and down a twelve foot embankment. His timing was perfect, except for a single Stanfield runner who witnessed it, we had been alone. I managed to slide down to the bottom of the drop without injury, and begin picking my way along the bottom looking for an easy way up and back on course. I finally had to double back a little and crawl back up the sides of the ravine a hundred yards back from where I'd been knocked in.
I should have finished fifth at the very least. Stanfield only had one runner whose times were better than mine, so even if Steve Jackson had managed to finish ahead of me this time, a result I thought was unlikely, I would have only had Matt and Boyd from our team ahead of me, and the Stanfield runner. If Jackson had beaten me, fifth. Otherwise fourth.
Once I'd crossed the finish line, and received the glad greetings from Greta and my folks, I gathered with the rest of the team to wait for Coach Reed. I walked up to Jackson with my hands clasped behind my back. I wanted no mistake about who started it if he decided to be violent, not that I expected it.
"Congratulations Jackson." I said.
"What? Get away from me asshole," he said dismissively.
"No, I really want to congratulate you for your race smarts," I said. "The first race of the year was the right time to make that move. Congratulations on trading a fourth place finish today for a guaranteed finish behind me in every race we run in the rest of the year."
"Yeah, right," he sneered.
"No, I mean it. I was going to spend my time this fall concentrating on football, and letting the chips fall where they may in cross country, but now I'm motivated. You've motivated me."
That was all there was time for before Coach Reed was calling for our attention. Boyd and two of our other runners had listened in with interest. Coach congratulated Matt for the best time of the day, and Boyd for finishing second in a personal best time so far.
Greta came home with us for lunch, and she got a tour of the neighborhood, including a leisurely walk with Ned and I to the spot. It was still pleasant enough, but there were a couple of younger kids there already, so we didn't linger, though Ned did get a couple of good splashes in. Later, Greta and I got some good kissing in, and even a few instances of wandering hands were recorded as successful. Dad and I dropped her off at the ranch just before dinner, and there was a much more chaste kiss executed on the Porter front porch.
True to my prediction, Steve Jackson never finished ahead of me again, and as the season progressed, I pulled further and further ahead of him, to the point that I was beginning to think I might be able to catch Boyd one of these days. The season ended before I could though, and Boyd was a Senior. He escaped before I could catch him.
Football was another story. I was both more and less successful on the old gridiron. I had a lot to overcome as a player, not being familiar with the game in either life. What I did have was speed, and enough speed that it was surprising to me. I also had quickness, Coach Roberts reminded me.
"It is one thing to have quickness, Kendall, and another thing entirely to be quick," Coach would yell at me. "You are born having quickness, but you must be taught to be quick."
There was only one other receiver who could match my times in the forty, and I was several inches taller than him. Wade Wilkins wasn't as fast as either of us, but he had good moves, and as a quarterback, already had a better understanding of routes and patterns than I did.
Assuming I could learn to play the position, the tight end job was mine. There were no other contenders, and besides myself, the only person getting time at the position was last year's backup halfback, a guy named Greg Blake.
I was a source of great frustration for the coaches, my not having played and my unfamiliarity with even the basic terminology of some of the things I needed to know.
I studied football like I was studying algebra. It was a foreign language, only casually related to other things I knew, but it was a language I was determined to master as quickly as possible.
Yes, the question had been answered. I not only didn't mind the contact, I seemed to thrive on it.
I may have been struggling to learn something new, but Joe was truly in his element. He was already pushing the returning halfback from last year's team, and was guaranteed to get a lot of time this year.
Wade Wilkins may have already proved himself too valuable at quarterback to remain in the hunt for a job at receiver. Two days before our first game he was officially moved into the number two quarterback spot.
I had three basic routes in our offense, and our first game against the Pendleton Buckaroos, I got to run all three of them multiple times. All three were deep routes, and the idea was to try to take advantage of my speed and height and get behind the defense, and then just reach up and make the catch over them. My primary pattern was called 'Rail 1' in our offense, and it was me streaking down the sideline at top speed for thirty yards. If I was open I was supposed to turn and look for the ball, and if I wasn't, I was supposed to run another ten and look again.
The Buckaroo defensive line was massive. The average weight and height was quite a bit greater than ours, but their secondary was slower and too small. I caught three passes, each one for over thirty yards, the last one for a touchdown, as I kept running another twenty yards when the safety made a desperate gamble and missed the tackle. The pressure on our quarterback kept the aerial onslaught from dominating though, and the running backs had a hard time getting past the line of scrimmage. When they did get past, they had some significant runs, as once again speed was on our side. I caught one pass from the tight end position for a short gain, but it was the only play I got in at the position. I was still too new to the blocking schemes. We won 17-13.
Being on the football team was an automatic entry into the upper levels of Hermiston High society, and having a touchdown in our first game added to that glamor. Cheerleaders became our friends, and I'm sure that if Joe and I didn't so obviously have girlfriends, some of them would have been willing to be more than friends.
Social acceptance meant we were expected to attend things like dances and parties. Dances I was willing to consider, but parties, especially non-freshmen parties had me concerned. Greta shared my concern, as did Carrie. If we hadn't been there to suggest otherwise, I think Joe's natural inclination would have been to go and do whatever was offered.
What was a definite yes was the Columbus Day Dance. This was the first official school dance of the year, and it was seen as setting the tone for the school year, socially. Greta and Carrie were dieing to go, and to be honest, I was looking forward to it as well. I even had a new suit to wear.
Included in the information that I'd received from Coach Turner on registration day, was a note listing items required for participation. All traveling athletes were required to wear a suit jacket, white shirt and tie. We headed for Portland at the first opportunity and after an early breakfast and a long drive, arrived downtown just in time for lunch at the Aladdin in the Lloyd Center.
The Lloyd Center had opened in Portland in August of the previous year, and the JC Penney there was our first stop. An off-the-rack suit for travel was item number one on our list, and the suit I got was loose enough on me that we all hoped it might still be usable the following year, though with the way I'd grown this year, who knew what size I'd be next year. I got a decent charcoal gray suit and several serviceable white shirts to go with it, as well as a couple of ties.
For my good suit, the one to wear to dances and other social events, we went to a store called Estes. I spent the afternoon getting fitted for a suit, this one a dark gray suit, almost black. The suit was going to be made in such a way that there would be plenty of room to let it out as I grew, but there was only so much growing room that could be built in, so again we had our fingers crossed. I was totally amazed at the differences in the kinds of service we received at Estes. The people at JC Penney had seemed knowledgeable until I'd had the tailors at Estes to compare them to. The tailor who fit me for my trousers even spoke of customizing the fit to accommodate my 'package'. I'd never even considered the possibility.
No, never in my first life had I ever had a tailor-made, custom-fitted suit. I was never that kind of guy. Even the suit I got married in was off the rack.
Ties, shoes, socks, even a hat, which I didn't think I'd ever wear, were part of the ensemble.
The Columbus Day Dance was a jewel suspended in the middle of a momentous nine day stretch at the beginning of October. On October 1st, the last day of the regular season, Roger Maris broke Babe Ruth's home run record, hitting number 61 against the Yankees greatest foes the Boston Red Sox. Dad had placed dozens of bets, the largest of which were in Las Vegas, and he had expressed a lot of faith in me, he'd bet everything he could. When it was all said and done, he'd won 30,000 dollars. Only the Vegas bets had to have taxes paid on them, and the 30,000 figure was after taxes. Dad was grinning like mad, and he took half the winnings and immediately began making World Series bets everywhere he could, adding to the bets he had already made.
On October 4th, the day before the dance, The Yankees won game one, as Whitey Ford pitched a 2-0 shutout against the Cincinnati Reds. The next day the Reds would even it up, winning by a 6-2 margin. Even the three Yankee errors couldn't be blamed for the difference, and everyone began talking about a back and forth series that would be won at the wire in game seven. Dad and I knew better.
The game was a secondary concern that day. The dance was held in the gym, and the cheerleaders and the football and cross country teams had been recruited to decorate the gym. That meant a fake set of ships and sails along one wall of the gym to represent Columbus' ships, and some tacky 1960's style Indians and their accessories.
Freshmen are ever cursed to need rides to such things, and unfortunately for us, the only older sibling also going to the dance was Janet, Greta and Joe's older sister who was a senior. Since her date was picking her up, we had no fellow student transportation, so we had to settle for a parent. We had let them fight it out, but in the end Mrs. Porter did the driving, using the Porter's almost brand new Ford Econoline Station Bus. The Station Bus was essentially the Ford panel van with windows along both sides and passenger seats installed. It could very easily haul the four of us along with Bennie and Sissy Mitchel, who were riding with us.
Its funny, but it was the cars that kept me thinking I was in an old movie. The clothes, the haircuts, the music, everything spoke to the time I was in, but it was the cars I really noticed.
since Carrie and I were neighbors, Mrs. Porter brought Joe to pick her up first, and then they picked me up. I rode with Mrs. Porter up front at first, because we were going to be picking Greta up back at the ranch. The Mom's had all decided that none of their daughters were going to get shortchanged on the experience of being picked up by their dates.
Carrie was gorgeous, and Joe was beaming, and sweating bullets at the same time. Carrie's dress was cut low enough to display some pretty firm-looking evidence of her femininity. Joe was trying to keep his eyes from tracking in the wrong direction, but it appeared to be a loosing battle.
Bennie was next, and he hopped in as we drove over to the Mitchell's, which was just a short distance away down Burnside. We waited patiently as Bennie went to the door, and there was the obligatory pause as Mrs. Mitchell took pictures.
"Don't worry Sammy," Mrs. Mitchell said as the flashbulbs going off flared through the living room window, "you'll be getting the same deal shortly.
I did too, but I didn't care. Greta Porter was a vision. A silk and satin miracle. I never even noticed the flash bulbs going off, and as far as I knew, someone could have manually posed me for every picture. Whether I was able to avoid Joe's fate with the direction of my eyes, and yes, Greta's evidence was just as visible and certainly at least as marvelous, was a mystery. I was mesmerized, and the spell didn't really break until we were inside the gym.
The Hermiston High student body was just over two hundred, and it looked like at least half of them were currently stuffed into the gym. There was no band playing, just records at the moment. Ben E. King's 'Stand by Me' was playing when we walked through the door, and with the acoustics that only a high school gym can deliver, it sounded magical. Before we'd made our way to a table the song had ended and been replaced by Booby Vee's 'Take Good Care Of My Baby', which was the current number one hit. It got played at least once every time the band took a break. Even as popular as it was I was tired of it before the night was out. It was a little of this and a little of that from the last couple of years' top hits until the records stopped and the band began to warm up.
Live music, this early into the sixties and given our rural location meant big band music to the powers that be at Hermiston High, which was alright to dance to, especially when I realized that the younger me remembered the dance steps Mom had taught us at the beginning of junior high school pretty well, and I still had a good handle on the dancing I'd picked up again during the swing dancing revival that had been all the rage at the end of the 90's. Most of the dancing we were doing was far more sedate than some of the stuff I saw then, but between the two of us, we were a dancing success, and even a smash, to a degree. Joe had not been so keen about learning to dance when he'd had the chance, so I got to dance quite a bit with Carrie too. Greta didn't seem to mind, she and Carrie had come to some sort of understanding about our being lifelong friends.
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