Sidelined

by Kara Bietz

  “Since when are you in charge of the scouting report?” Ms. Brownie’s sister says, poking her in the ribs with an elbow.

  “I’ve been reading the newspaper. That Ray Remondo fella knows what he’s talking about,” Ms. Brownie says, nodding her head.

  “Oh, sure he does.” Mr. Cooper comes through the line behind the sisters. “Last year he predicted Taylor would beat us by no less than twenty-seven points! They still beat us, but only by two!” He laughs so hard that he starts coughing.

  “Both of you hush, now. You’ll see in a few weeks when those Taylor Titans come to town. I’d put money on us losing that game if I had any!” Ms. Brownie is the grumpiest woman in the county, and the only self-proclaimed “fan” of Crenshaw football that would openly bet against us.

  Ms. Brownie’s proclamation brings on another bout of laugh-coughing from both her sister and Mr. Cooper.

  “Our boys have got this in the bag.” Pastor Ernie joins the conversation as he follows Mr. Cooper in the line. “Isn’t that right, Elijah?”

  “I’m going to do my best, sir,” he answers, handing the pastor two bingo cards.

  Figg slides into line behind the pastor and puts his hand gently on his back. “Never say they’ve got it in the bag. Remember what happened twenty years ago?”

  A chorus of groans erupts from every old-timer in the line. The paper predicted the Guardsmen would win by like a million points, but a massive brawl broke out on the field before the homecoming game even started, and Crenshaw had to forfeit. I’ve asked Birdie what started it, but she refuses to tell me. All of Meridien is very hush-hush about the whole thing. Like it’s an embarrassing town secret or something. The only thing the whole town agrees on and is very vocal about is that the Shame of the Century was brought on by someone predicting that Crenshaw “had it in the bag.”

  Add that to the running list of things Meridien is stupidly superstitious about.

  The group of adults moves toward the tables, and we hand out a ton more cards to the throngs of people coming in, each one of them with a handy comment or tip as to how I can guarantee a win against Taylor. I smile politely and thank each and every one of them for their support of Crenshaw County football, but by the time the line wanes, I’m ready to punch someone in the teeth. Does anyone even remember that we’ve got three games coming up before we even have to start thinking about Taylor?

  I grab a handful of cards when the line slows to a trickle and wander through the crowded tables, leaving Camille and Elijah to handle the entrance for a little while. I’m glad Elijah’s not within spitting distance, because I don’t think he’d like to hear what people are saying about him.

  “I heard he was back in town,” Ms. Brownie says. “That family is nothing but trouble. Can’t really expect much with Eric Vance’s DNA running through your veins,” she says under her breath, so Pastor Ernie doesn’t hear.

  “I can’t believe that Coach Marcus let him back on that football team. Is winning that important? More important than morals now?” someone else says.

  “He’s just a boy and boys make mistakes. Let’s not go crucifying the child,” Mr. Cooper says.

  “Just you wait until it’s your money that goes missing,” Ms. Brownie says.

  Most of the people sitting near her nod their heads and mumble quiet “mmmhmmm”s of agreement.

  “Now, you cut that out. No money disappeared; the boy only broke a window.” Mr. Cooper puts his hand down on the table.

  The talk stops after that.

  Bucky Redd and a few of the freshman are running the concession stand. “Hey, Julian! Come here,” Bucky stage-whispers to me. He holds out a hot dog covered with relish. “Can you bring this over to Camille? Tell her I made it just for her exactly how she likes it.”

  I roll my eyes. Bucky has been in love with Camille since kindergarten. They’re probably the most mismatched pair on the planet, but Bucky will never give up. He’s very careful not to be pushy about it, though, and Camille will sometimes flirt back here and there. I doubt anything will ever come of it after all these years.

  “You made it just the way she likes it?” I ask, raising my eyebrows.

  “A little well done on the grill with extra relish.” He smiles. “Come on, how many other guys would know her exact preferred hot dog order?”

  “You are definitely one of a kind, Buckster.” I laugh.

  He adjusts his plastic gloves while I carefully carry the perfect Camille hot dog over to where Camille and Elijah are closing up shop.

  “Special delivery from Bucky Redd,” I tell Camille, setting down the fancy hot dog in front of her. “He says he made it exactly how you like it.”

  “Extra time on the grill and more relish than necessary? Oh my god, that’s just the sweetest!” Camille takes a big bite and flashes a thumbs-up to Bucky, who is watching her from the concession window.

  He tips his hat and takes a bow.

  “He will never give up on you,” I tell her.

  Camille shrugs with just one shoulder and pops the last bite of hot dog in her mouth. “He’s sweet.”

  “Are you saying there’s a chance you might finally let him take you out somewhere?”

  “Anything’s possible, my friend,” she says, rolling up the hot dog napkin and tucking it in my front pocket.

  Camille mouths “Thank you” to Bucky, and then turns to Elijah and me. “You wanna play?” she asks, shoving fifteen dollars into the cash box and pulling three books of game cards from my stack. “Come on, let’s get a chair.”

  “I’ve never played before,” Elijah says shyly. “I mean, not since kindergarten or whatever.”

  “Sit by me; I’ll teach you everything you need to know. And maybe I’ll be a good luck charm, too,” Camille tells him, patting the chair next to her.

  I sit down across from the two of them, my blue dauber ready to do some damage. I never win at bingo, but it doesn’t stop me from hoping every time I sit down and listen to Birdie call out the numbers. Even though I’m a minor and can’t collect the prize if I do win, I know standing up and yelling out “Bingo!” is something I’m missing out on.

  “I 24. I 24. I… 24,” Birdie calls out into the microphone, and there’s a chorus of whoops and groans.

  “Everyone’s really nervous about the Taylor game, huh?” Elijah asks after marking through I 24 with his orange dauber.

  Camille rolls her eyes. “That’s all anyone cares about around here. Oh, sure, they’ll show up for Stephens City this weekend and all the other games, but Taylor is the one they’re all waiting for.”

  Elijah’s knee starts shaking under the table a little bit.

  “It’s overhyped,” I say, hoping he’ll stop shaking. “Meridien loves their football, and Taylor’s the thing that keeps them all talking.”

  “I’d hate to be the guy who screws it up. I mean, they’re still mad about a game we lost twenty years ago! I wouldn’t want to be the reason people are complaining at bingo twenty years from today,” he says, biting his lip.

  “O 71. O 71. O… 71,” Birdie calls.

  “Hey, you’ve almost got bingo.” Camille points to Elijah’s card. “You’re just missing G 47.”

  Elijah looks down, and his smile lights up his whole face, and my chest aches in spite of itself. I find myself missing that thing. No, not the final bingo number. That thing when you trust someone and there’s an unspoken bond between you. That thing when just a shared look can mean more than an entire conversation.

  “G 47. G 47. G… 47,” Birdie calls.

  “Oh my god! Camille! Look!” Elijah, his cheeks bright pink, shoves his card toward Camille.

  “Yeah! You won! Call out bingo before someone else claims it!” She gently pushes his winning card back toward him.

  Elijah jumps up excitedly, his chair tipping and clattering to the floor. “Bingo?” he squeaks out, the pink in his cheeks turning to bright red in an instant.

  “Well, are you sure?” Birdie says into the micro
phone. “Loud and proud if you’re sure, Mr. Vance!”

  Elijah laughs, and his face returns to its normal hue. “Bingo. BINGO!” he yells.

  · ten ·

  ELIJAH

  “Hey, let’s walk home,” Camille says to us as we’re wiping the tables down after bingo. “I could use a milkshake.”

  “Burger Barn?” Julian asks her, loading the last of Birdie’s things into the trunk of her car.

  “Absolutely. Elijah, you up for it?” Camille asks.

  “Oh. Um. I don’t have to come with you,” I say, glancing toward Julian. His face isn’t exactly friendly or vicious. Just sort of… blank.

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Camille sucks her teeth. “Of course you have to come. Winners get milkshakes. It’s a rule I just made up.”

  I look at Julian and he shrugs. “I don’t care.”

  Not exactly the ringing endorsement I was hoping for, but I’ll take it. My stomach sank to my knees earlier this afternoon when he asked me outside of Jake’s Convenience if I knew why he was angry. I put him off as best I could, but he seemed to disappear after that. When he led me into Jake’s and bought snacks for both of us, it was like I had the old Julian back. As I watched him pay for all of it, I had it in my head that I was going to apologize to him. Put all that stuff in the past behind us. I couldn’t tell him about Coley just yet, because of the promise I had made to Frankie, but maybe I could explain a little bit. At the very least, I was going to say that I was sorry.

  Because of course I knew why he was angry.

  I left. Poof. Without an explanation. Without saying goodbye.

  Disappearing without warning was probably a decent reason for someone to be angry with you. Especially after what we shared in the locker room. Things got massively complicated after that, and I was fourteen and overwhelmed. It’s not a great excuse, but it’s what happened.

  I tell Camille I’m in for Burger Barn, and we drag a few more bags and boxes and the big ice chest out to Ms. Birdie’s car. She shoves a five-dollar bill in my pocket when no one is looking. “You have fun, now. And don’t you worry about Julian. He’s just a big grump. Everything will come out in the wash.” She winks at me.

  It’s a short walk down Main Street to the outdoor tables at Burger Barn. A handful of kids are hanging out, but we settle ourselves away from the crowd at a small round picnic table with a bright blue umbrella after we order our ice cream at the window.

  “Homecoming is only a few weeks away,” Camille says, taking a long sip of her banana milkshake. “Do y’all have any plans?”

  Homecoming. I missed it by a couple of weeks when we lived in Meridien before, and I didn’t participate in any of it at my school in Houston, either. Frankie and her friends always loved everything about it, though. The mums the girls wore around their necks and the garters the boys wore around their biceps at school the Friday of the football game. The dance the next night, when everyone wore sparkly dresses and dry-cleaned suits and took a million selfies outside the decorated gym. The alumni barbecues on Sunday afternoon.

  “Don’t remind me.” Julian shakes his head and dips his plastic spoon into the sundae he’s devouring.

  “What’s wrong with homecoming?” I ask, licking at my swirled cone.

  “Don’t listen to grouchy pants over here.” Camille laughs. “He’s just sour because he’s got to plan the football pranks.”

  “I just think it’s a stupid tradition is all. I mean… filling a quarterback’s car with popcorn? TPing the trees in front of Taylor? How is any of that going to help us win a football game?”

  Camille rolls her eyes. “Well, it’s not, honestly. But it’s not just about that! It’s a tradition, Juls. Something Crenshaw and Taylor have been doing for a million years. Don’t you want to put your mark on it somewhere?”

  “I think the tradition is dumb,” Julian says, throwing his spoon into the bottom of his empty sundae cup.

  Camille sighs hard. “Aren’t you tired of being Oscar the Grouch all the time?” She rolls her eyes. “It’s just for fun. It’s supposed to be silly. Lighthearted. Entertaining. Merrymaking. Let’s see, how many SAT prep words can I think of for fun? Elijah, you want to help me out here?”

  “Delightful? Pleasing?” I say, and Camille laughs. My gut warms.

  Julian’s face is a storm cloud, though.

  In all honesty, I can see his point. The traditions that he’s expected to uphold don’t really serve any purpose other than good fun, and I don’t know that Julian has ever been the type to do something just because it’s fun. On the other hand, why not do something just because it’s silly? Does everything have to make sense?

  I think about Coley. She laughs every single day. About bubbles in the sink. About the funny voices Frankie uses when she reads her favorite book. Sometimes she laughs at nothing. One of the best sounds in the world is the sound of her laughing at something I’ve done.

  Julian has been serious since the day I met him. Sure, he laughs and has fun at football, but there’s always been this undercurrent of work in everything he does. I start to wonder if he’s ever had a moment of just pure joy.

  “What about the camping trips the football team takes to Port Aransas? Or homecoming mums? Do you think those are dumb? Those are traditions, too.” Camille juts her chin out, daring Julian to take a swing at homecoming mums.

  Julian rolls his eyes again. “Those ridiculous dinner-plate-sized flower arrangements girls wear around their necks before the homecoming game? Those don’t exactly have a point, either,” he says.

  “I didn’t hear you complaining about them two years ago when you had that gorgeous garter arrangement from Reece around your bicep.” Camille raises her eyebrows.

  I stop midlick. My stomach flip-flops, and I see the tips of Julian’s ears turn bright pink. Reece? Who is Reece? And why does the mention of his name make Julian’s ears turn pink?

  “W-who’s Reece?” I clear my throat.

  “Julian’s old boyfriend,” Camille singsongs. “He was just the sweetest thing, and he made the most gorgeous homecoming garter for Julian sophomore year. I was so jealous.”

  “Camille, stop,” Julian says, his eyes fixed on his empty Styrofoam sundae cup.

  I’ve suddenly lost my appetite for my swirl cone, and I leave it dripping on a napkin. Julian had a boyfriend. Not long after I left, either. The thought of someone else touching him, putting a garter around his bicep, looking at him… it’s enough to make the tips of my ears turn pink, too. I don’t know what I expected. That a guy like Julian would sit around and pine for me after I left? After one kiss?

  It wasn’t something I had time to think about when I was in Houston. But now, seeing him in front of me and seeing how just the name Reece affects Julian, it makes me wonder. Did he react that way to my name before he saw me again? Did the thought of me turn his ears pink?

  That’s ridiculous, Elijah. It was one kiss. You’re the one that walked away without saying goodbye. Julian moved on. Obviously. With a boy named Reece who would probably never leave without saying goodbye.

  Maybe I wasn’t exactly nice after that one kiss.

  Maybe there was more going on at home than my fourteen-year-old self could handle, and maybe I wasn’t exactly the picture of maturity.

  Maybe I hadn’t known what to do with that newfound thing with Julian.

  I had known I was gay since I was a little tiny kid. Can’t really put words to that, honestly, but sometimes it’s just something you know in your bones. It was for me, at least. I’d been out since seventh grade. Everyone really kind of knew, anyway. Coming out wasn’t a huge deal. Frankie cried, but they were happy tears. The next day she bought me a pride flag and hung it on my bedroom wall with thumbtacks. Dad was gone by then, and Ma just kind of said, “Oh. Okay,” and smiled at me. Maybe I was hoping for a little more than that from her, but my mother wasn’t exactly known for her warmth. Ma was always busy or harried or just not available. Especially after my father went awa
y. Frankie and I tried to stay out of her way for the most part. It’s not that she didn’t love us or care about us; she just had a very different way of showing it. Putting food on the table and making sure we had a safe roof over our heads was her way. I don’t fault her for that.

  Kissing Julian was a whole new level of me saying to the world, Hey, I’m gay. A level that I wasn’t quite sure about. I had never even thought about kissing him until right that very second, sitting next to him on the bench in the locker room. I touched his knee, quite accidentally, and a jolt of electricity shot right up my arm and through my gut. And in that moment that our lips touched, and I could feel his warm breath mingling with mine, all I wanted to do was lose myself in it.

  The day before that kiss was the day the world came crashing down around me. I found Frankie crying in my room when I got home from practice, a positive pregnancy test in her lap. I didn’t know how to help her, but I knew I had to think of something. I promised her I would figure something out. And that was when I remembered the car wash money that we had locked in Coach Marcus’s desk the day before.

  “Did your high school in Houston have a bunch of weird homecoming traditions?” Camille asks me, slurping up the last dregs of her milkshake and interrupting my thoughts.

  “There were mums,” I tell her. “But I don’t really know about any of the other stuff. I kind of just went to school and kept my head down.”

  “You never went to the homecoming dance or the football game or anything? Did you ever wear a mum?” Camille looks shocked.

  “No,” I say without further explanation. I’m afraid if I say too much, Camille will start asking questions about Frankie. “Hey, it’s getting kind of late, and I’ve still got some homework to finish up,” I say, looking at my watch.

  Camille looks at her wrist, too. “Jeez, it is late! As much as I’d love to sit here and talk about mums all night with you losers, I’ve got a Powder Puff meeting in the early morning before the game tomorrow. Eek! I’m so excited.”