by Janet Walker
Chapter Forty-Nine
CAUGHT
Tracy saw the dark page of the magazine as soon as she rounded the corner and spied her gym locker. Saw it attached to the locker with a piece of scotch tape and at first thought it was a bulletin from Miz Grace. But as she moved through the hushed locker room, Tracy felt the stares of her teammates and concluded that their actions had something to do with the paper. She knew they weren’t looking at her because of her transformed appearance—they had already seen, at some point during the day, her new hairstyle and makeup—so they had to be staring for another reason. Fleetingly, Tracy panicked and glanced around at them. Did they think the same thing about her friendship with Miz Grace that Aunt Madge and Mama thought? Tracy searched their faces and the panic increased. The expressions were grim, so maybe they did! Her heart pounded, her face heated, and she nervously offered a weak smile. The others reciprocated with their own smiles and a return to activity—soft speech, dressing, undressing. Tracy was relieved but still worried. They had summoned her from the court, where she shot loose balls, something she did every day before basketball practice. But today, Ronnie had informed her that Pat and Dent wanted all players in the locker room before practice got under way. That was unusual, but Tracy didn’t think anything of it—perhaps Pat wanted to conduct the color game before practice, instead of afterwards.
But now, as she stepped up to her locker and studied the ripped-out magazine page, Tracy froze momentarily and then looked around swiftly with embarrassment at her staring teammates. They all glanced away and pretended to be absorbed in preparation. Tracy grasped the page in her fingers and applied the upward motion needed to make the tape peel away from the metal door. She looked at the page. Printed across the upper-left corner, in fun script, were the words Behind the Scenes, and in the bottom margin were the words The Throne and December 1990. There were pictures of Majestics players, as well as their family and friends. Jason Mathers in the locker room, bare-chested and beaming broadly after the Thanksgiving-day win against the Pistons. Four white men—two in business suits, two in casual attire—hamming it up for the camera. There were other pictures as well, but Tracy stared only at one, along with its caption, and her face burned with embarrassment and guilt. Her. And Miz Grace. In the Summit Family Lounge, standing with the lawyer couple, who smiled toothy grins and held glasses of punch. Tracy scrutinized the pose. She and Miz Grace stood next to each other and smiled, though not as broadly as the couple. And held hands. Pounding began in Tracy’s whole body. At the time, it had felt lovely to hold her coach’s hand. Had made her feel like a special and loved daughter to the important woman. But now it felt like the worst thing she and Miz Grace could have done. Tracy looked up, face hot, eyes darting around the room at her teammates. This time, the other girls watched her without looking away. None smiled now, but when Pat spoke, it was with forced cheerfulness.
“Baby Girl!” the co-captain called, walking over and laying an arm around Tracy’s shoulder. “Whassup with that?” Pat asked, congenially swatting the page in Tracy’s hand.
Tracy looked down at the page and then at her captain.
“You and Miz Grace hanging out?” Pat inquired.
Tracy looked around. They waited for her response.
“No, we just, um…we went to the Majestics game…Thanksgiving,” she said softly.
“Thanksgiving?” said Pat, and looked back at the others. “Kisha? Didn’t you say you called Tracy aunt house this weekend and they told you she was spending the night with Miz Grace?”
Tracy gasped.
Pat looked at Tracy again, silently requesting an explanation.
Tracy’s face felt even hotter. “My house? When?” she asked, looking at the tall quiet sophomore with the pigtails who stood with her back against a locker.
LaKisha Thomas squirmed uncomfortably under the group’s attention and timidly answered, “Saturday. Your uncle told me.”
Tracy bowed her head. Kisha and Uncle Ed, without meaning to, had ripped open the wrapping of The Secret, and there was no way to lie about it now. Tracy looked at her teammates and wondered what they were thinking. They stared back with curious expressions.
Pat removed her arm from Tracy’s shoulder. “See, Baby Girl, ain’t nobody mad ’cause you hanging out with Miz Grace. We just wonder why y’all felt y’all had to lie about it and hide. I mean, we a team—ain’t s’posed to be no secrets ’tween us. And you and me, I thought we was cool!”
“We are,” Tracy said sincerely.
“What?” continued Pat. “Miz Grace thought we’d be jealous if we found out?”
Tracy lowered her eyes. “Yeah.” She tried to look remorseful but inside she smiled with relief; her teammates did not share Mama and Aunt Madge’s suspicion about her friendship with Miz Grace. No, they were upset because she and the coach were hanging out together without them.
Pat swung her head to look back at the rest of the team and charged, “And why the hell I’m the only one saying something? ’Fore Tracy came in here, the rest of y’all was talking all kinda shit ’bout her and Miz Grace. Tell her how you feel now,” Pat challenged.
For a moment the room did not move, and then Toni sighed. “I ain’t got no problem with it.”
Pat twisted her face in scorn. “Toni, you the biggest gossiping ass in here! Don’t be trying to act like no angel now.”
Toni glanced at Tracy with embarrassment and admitted, “Well, Tracy, it don’t seem right, you playing the color game with us and hanging out with Miz Grace. How we know she not telling you what color she gonna wear the next day?”
Tracy sighed heavily. Something about the scene did remind her of last evening’s nightmare in the den, after all. Again, somebody was accusing her of something that wasn’t true. And again, Tracy burned with anger. “You ain’t got to worry about that,” she assured Toni bitterly. “I don’t cheat.”
“I tole y’all dat,” said Dent.
Toni looked at the floor. “I’m not saying you do. We just…”
“If I was cheating, wouldn’t I be winning all the time?”
There was a collective hesitation in the girls. Tracy had only won the color game twice—when she bet pink the first time she played, and later when she and Karla both bet baby blue. In the emotional rush of their jealousy, they had forgotten this fact.
“Look,” Tracy said impatiently, “I just won’t play the color game no more, okay? I was thinking about quitting, anyway.”
“Why?” Deidre demanded.
“Because,” Tracy began, quickly searching for an explanation, for up until that moment she had not realized she had arrived at the decision. “I know Miz Grace wouldn’t like it if she knew, and I feel like I’m doing something behind her back.”
The others froze—uncertain, pondering, suspicious.
“Don’t worry,” Tracy said acridly, “I won’t tell her.”
Their expressions softened—they accepted her assurance—but still no one said anything. Tracy knew they expected more, expected her to divulge details about her friendship with Miz Grace, but the anger she felt was a new type of anger for her, one she hadn’t yet learned to control, and it rendered her stubbornly silent. She strode past Pat and the rest of them and left the locker room with the magazine page still in hand.
