“So,” Alison said as the applause died down, “do you think they’ll have the cheerleaders come back out and do another dance routine on the stage?”
“Gross!” Sally said. Alison laughed.
“Serves those idiots right,” Alison said. “This has to be the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“That’s true,” Sally said.
With the janitor trying to clean Grady’s vomit off the stage, the rest of the pep rally was somewhat subdued. The cheerleaders did indeed come out again, but there was no dance routine. They simply led the crowd in the Yell Contest. The eighth grade, buoyed by Phillip’s improbable victory, won easily.
“So with a total of seven hundred seventy-one points, this year’s Spirit Stick goes to the eighth grade!” Mr. Frank announced.
“I’m dying of surprise,” Sally commented.
The eighth-graders all cheered joyously, and their class president came up to collect the Spirit Stick, taking care not to walk anywhere near where Grady had taken The Big Spit.
“All right, everyone,” Mr. Frank concluded. “We’ll see you all at the big game after school. Whip ’em, Wildcats!”
There was a final chorus of cheers, and then everyone got up and began to file out. Sally made a beeline for the door, but she got separated from Alison and Brian and so had to wait. She sequestered herself next to Brian’s locker, figuring they had to come there. Sure enough, they appeared moments later.
“There you are,” Brian said.
“Lost you somehow,” Sally said. “Figured you’d show up here.”
“Good guess,” he said.
“Hey, I thought we were meeting at Sally’s locker,” Brad said as he came up.
“Change of plans,” Brian said. “You found us.”
“Can you believe Grady took The Big Spit?” Brad said.
“Do we have to rehash that grossosity?” Alison said.
“You say that like it wasn’t totally awesomazing,” Brad said.
“It wasn’t,” Sally said. “It was revolting.”
“Yeah, but in an awesome way,” Brad said.
“Les garçons sont dégoûtant,” Alison said.
“Oui, oui, mademoiselle,” Brad said.
Alison rolled her eyes at him. Sally shook her head.
“Come on, y’all,” Brian said. “Let’s roll, so we can get good seats.”
Sally sighed. Her mass date with Brian was officially on. She wished she didn’t have to share him with anyone, but she still wasn’t certain this was a date at all. She hoped something good would happen during the game.
Seventeen
Sally, Alison, and the boys made their way through the school and out back to the field. Two buses were in the parking lot disgorging the visitors. One was for the team, and the other appeared to be a fan bus. Sally estimated there were between fifty and seventy-five Jefferson students decked out in blue and yellow sweatshirts and jackets that all read, “Jefferson Cougars,” or had the school’s logo, a stylized “J” with cat ears, on them.
The Jefferson fans set up in the bleachers on the opposite side of the field. A group of them hung a banner that read, “Kill the Kittens!” over the front rail.
A few minutes later, Roosevelt came charging onto the field. Both teams started running drills in preparation for the match. Roosevelt was dressed in red jerseys and gold pants. Their red helmets had a big, gold “R” on the sides with claw marks through it. Jefferson wore all white with blue trim, with the stylized “J” on their helmets.
The cheerleaders came out shortly thereafter. Roosevelt students were filing into the stands, and the cheerleaders started a chorus of “Whip ’em, Wildcats” to get the fans fired up.
Brian insisted on sitting in the top row, saying they’d be able to see better up there. Sally didn’t see how. It looked a lot more fun down front, but she’d didn’t complain or argue.
It was sunny but cold, and the four of them huddled together to stay warm. Sally had Alison on one side of her and Brian on the other. She’d just gotten comfortable, when they were told to stand for the national anthem. Susie Coleman sang it, screeching a little on “and the rockets’ red glare” but otherwise doing a passable job.
Jefferson won the coin toss, and a few moments later, Roosevelt kicked off to initiate the clash. The crowd roared its approval when eighth-grader Kelsey James hit the Jefferson return man hard enough to knock him off of his feet.
“Wow!” Brian said. “I wonder if the whole game is going to be like that.”
As the first few series ran on, Sally observed that the game did not have the same grace as the college or professional ones her father watched on the weekends. The boys had not quite developed enough yet. Even the eighth-graders were still too young for their bodies to respond like the finely tuned machines of adult athletes.
That didn’t lessen her enjoyment of the game, though. It was nice sitting in the stands next to Alison, with Brian’s knee rubbing against hers while the cool air rosied her cheeks. She put up her hood and found herself warm and happy.
She knew the general rules to the game from watching with her father and could follow the action. Brian occasionally explained something to her, and despite the fact that she usually knew what he was telling her already, she nodded and smiled and acted appreciative. Alison shot her several sidelong glances over the course of the first quarter as if to say things looked very promising.
Roosevelt had a pretty good team based on how they were playing. An enormous running back, who reminded Sally of Grady Johnson, was able to run up the middle and knock defenders back on a regular basis. The Roosevelt quarterback didn’t have much of an arm, underthrowing several open receivers on the first series, but he seemed otherwise competent and made good reads. The Wildcats moved the ball easily, but they were unable to score touchdowns. At the end of the first quarter, it was 6-0, with two Roosevelt field goals accounting for all the scoring.
“This is really cool,” Brad said. “I’ve never been to a football game before. I’ve watched it on TV, but I’ve never been. It’s much different live.”
“Oh, yeah,” Alison agreed. “It’s awesome having all these people around screaming at the same time.”
Sally couldn’t tell if she meant it or was being sarcastic. She stared at her for a few seconds to try to figure it out.
“Knock his block off!” Alison shouted as the Jefferson running back took a pitch and headed around the right side. He picked up four yards before a Roosevelt linebacker cut through traffic and leveled him. Alison cheered her approval.
Sally smiled and shook her head. Evidently, it hadn’t been sarcasm.
“Man,” Brian said wistfully, “I wish was out there.”
Sally looked him up and down. The conversation they’d had where he’d revealed his mom had refused to let him play jumped back into her mind. She hadn’t realized at the time how much the idea of not playing sports had hurt him. He had an athletic body. Sally bet he would have been great.
She leaned closer to him and rubbed her knee affectionately against his. He noticed, staring at their touching limbs for a moment. Then, awkwardly, he took her hand in his.
Sally’s heart stopped. Then it melted. He’d made a move! They were holding hands! He kept his eyes on the game, but he stroked the back of her hand softly with his thumb. A shiver went through her.
“You cold?” Brian said.
“Just a little,” Sally lied.
She was suddenly awash in pleasure. This dreadful day was starting to look up.
Alison looked over and noticed they were holding hands. She flashed Sally an I-told-you-so grin and then looked away.
“I’m gonna get a soda,” Alison said.
She stood up. Sally grabbed Alison’s jacket.
“Come back,” Sally said quietly. “I mean it.”
“Okay, okay,” Alison said. “You guys want anything?”
“I’m good,” Brian said.
“Yeah, me too,” Brad said
.
Sally shook her head. Alison turned to Brad.
“Come on, Brad,” she said. “You can help me.”
“Why?” he said, confused. “You’re the only one getting something.”
“Because I need your help,” she said between her teeth.
He stared at her quizzically for another second while she glared at him. Then understanding lit up his face.
“Oh!” he said, popping up like he’d been stung.
He followed Alison down the stairs en route to the small concession stand outside the side door of the school.
Jefferson had to punt following an incomplete pass, and after the return, the school band went into the “Roosevelt Middle School Fight Song,” which sounded suspiciously like the “Notre Dame Fight Song.” Sally, recognizing the music from having heard it countless times on her father’s television, shook her head slowly.
“So, are you having a good time?” Brian said.
Sally turned to him. He looked eager. His brown eyes shone brightly.
“Yes,” she said. “I’m having a wonderful time. Thank you for asking me.”
“To the game you mean?” he asked, cocking his head. Sally giggled.
“Yes, silly,” she said. “Thank you for asking me to the game.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, beaming.
“This is the best thing that’s happened to me,” she said.
“Really?”
“Yep,” she said. “I got to see a football game and hang with my . . .”
The sentence died there. She had been about to call Brian her boyfriend, but then she realized he wasn’t. Not in any official way.
“What?” Brian said.
“Nothing,” Sally said, looking away. She didn’t know what else she could say.
“Were you . . . were you gonna say ‘boyfriend,’” Brian asked.
Sally’s heart skipped a beat. What if he was mad? What if he didn’t want to be her boyfriend? What if he had been thinking about it, and now she had scared him off?
“I . . . yeah,” she admitted. “But then I . . . I didn’t know if you were my boyfriend, and I wasn’t sure if, you know, you wanted to be.”
The crowd roared as Roosevelt came up with a big third down conversion to keep the drive going. Sally looked out at the field. The Wildcats had moved the ball down to the Jefferson thirty-five. They were getting close to scoring range.
She turned back to Brian. He was looking very seriously at her.
“I,” he began. Then his throat stuck. He swallowed, trying to clear it. “I wasn’t sure if, you know, you would want to be my girlfriend. I mean, after I told you about my mom and all. I thought maybe you wanted to hang out, but that we shouldn’t say we were dating.”
“Oh,” Sally said.
“Not that I think it would be bad,” Brian said quickly. “I just thought, you know, you wouldn’t want to.”
“But aren’t you worried about your mom,” Sally asked.
“Yeah,” Brian said, nodding. “If she found out, she’d flip.”
Sally understood. Parents were a hard thing to get around, and Brian’s mom sounded crazy. The last thing she wanted was to get him in trouble. She liked him too much for that, and she didn’t want to do anything that would cause his mother to make him quit the play. Then, not only would she not get to see him as much, she would ruin something special he was good at. She didn’t want that.
She also wanted to kick herself for not thinking of this earlier. She’d been so frustrated with him for not asking her out, completely forgetting his mom called sixth-grade girls harlots and was strict about his study time. She felt like a really rotten person.
All that saddened her. She liked Brian, and he liked her, but they could never be together. This was the life she knew and was accustomed to. Good things didn’t happen to her. She thought she might cry. Where the hell was Alison?
“Of course, we could keep it a secret from her,” Brian said. Sally looked up at him, suddenly hopeful. “And your dad, if you wanted,” he added.
“Do you mean it?” Sally said. “Are you really asking me to . . .”
“Well,” he said, his throat sticking again. “Do you want to? Do you want to be my girlfriend?”
Sally threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. Brian let out a small gasp. He apparently hadn’t been expecting that sort of reaction.
“Yes,” Sally whispered in his ear. “Yes, I do.”
She kissed him on the cheek as she let go of him. He gave her an embarrassed smile, clearly pleased but unsure how to react. The crowd roared again as Roosevelt moved to the ten-yard-line on a big pass.
“Have you ever been to Joe’s Diner?” Brian asked her after the applause died down. “It’s this little restaurant a couple of blocks from school.”
“I’ve seen it, but I’ve never been there,” Sally replied. “Why?”
“Well, they’ve got doughnuts and pretty good fries and stuff like that,” Brian said. “I was thinking maybe we could go get something after the game?”
“Oh, I can’t, Brian,” she said. “I promised my dad I’d be home before five. I’m sorry.”
Regret surged through her. She couldn’t tell him, of course, that she needed to be home to cook dinner and take care of her dad. She still hadn’t figured out how to use the key to fix everything. She suddenly felt guilty about being at the game.
“Well,” Brian said, “we could always leave here a little early.”
Sally’s eyes opened wide. Was he actually going out of his way to make this happen? She smiled broadly.
“That might be nice,” she said.
“Cool,” Brian said.
She wanted to lean into him and stay there forever. Unfortunately, her bladder insisted it was time for a break. She sighed. Sometimes life was strangely unfair.
“I’ve gotta go to the bathroom,” she told Brian. “I’ll be back in a few.”
“Oh,” he said, sounding confused. This clearly wasn’t the follow-up to asking her for a date he was expecting. “Okay.” Sally leaned over and kissed him quickly on the lips.
“Don’t worry,” she said, “I’ll be back.”
She got to her feet and made her way down the row to get to the steps. As she did, the Grady Johnson look-alike running back crashed into the endzone, giving Roosevelt its first touchdown of the game. Everyone went mad, and Sally found it difficult to get clear of the stands so she could make her way back to the school to use the bathroom.
At last, she got through. It was a short hike back to the school, and she passed the concession stand on her way. She looked for Alison and Brad but didn’t see them. They must have missed each other somehow. Disappointment ricocheted through her. She really wanted to tell Alison her big news.
Inside, it was quieter than usual. Sally could hear the cheers of the crowd and the playing of the band, but it was otherwise subdued in the halls.
She entered the girls’ room and went into the far stall and did her business. A smile planted itself on her face. She had the key. She had a boyfriend. She had the lead in the school play. Everything she’d really wanted in the past few weeks had come to pass. Perhaps she’d misjudged her life. Maybe, she’d just been down for a long time, and things were turning around. Maybe she was finally getting her reward for all the horrible things she’d had to put up with.
A sense of confidence shot through her. She could save her father and her brother. She knew she could.
She flushed the toilet and exited the stall ready to conquer the world. Molly Richards, Wendy Settler, and Moira Clark stood at the sinks facing her. All three smiled maliciously.
“Well, hello, Little Red Riding Hoodie,” Molly drawled. “Look, girls! She’s even got her trashy hood up to complete the picture!”
“Gotta like it when the trash dresses itself in a garbage bag, so you can easily identify it,” Moira said.
“Yeah,” Wendy said, “otherwise you have to rely on the smell.”
&nbs
p; All three girls stood with their arms crossed, and their shoulders set. Something was wrong.
“Leave me alone, Molly,” Sally said. “I’m not in the mood for this today.”
The confidence she’d been feeling only a moment before had evaporated. She remembered Molly’s warning from earlier in the day. Dread blossomed in her stomach.
“What did you say, slut?” Molly said.
Sally blinked at her. She wasn’t sure what to do.
“Hey, bitch,” Molly demanded, “I asked you a question.”
Molly advanced on Sally, flipping her raven hair defiantly away from her cheek and aiming her breasts at Sally like a threat. The other girls uncrossed their arms and came forward, flanking their leader.
“I said, ‘Leave me alone,’” Sally said, swallowing hard.
Molly looked back at Moira and Wendy and then gave a curt, vicious laugh. Dutifully, the two toadies laughed with her. She turned her gaze back to Sally with a hateful leer.
“Leave you alone?” she spat. “Why should I? I warned you all debts were going to be paid. You should have gone home to Grandma’s house after school, Little Red Riding Hoodie. Now you have to deal with the Big Bad Wolf.”
Rage ignited inside Sally. She had had a rough day as it was. She was in no mood to be bullied by someone for whom she had no respect.
“You know, I just don’t get you,” Sally said. “You’re pretty. You’re sexy. You dress well. Why would you want to be such a bitch?”
“What did you say?” Molly whispered.
Her sharp features looked truly stunned. Moira and Wendy exchanged surprised looks.
“Seriously, Molly,” Sally said. “Nobody likes a bitch. You could have everything. If you were nice to people, you wouldn’t just be popular; you’d be respected and liked. Instead, you’re cruel and nasty and bigoted. People don’t like that, Molly. They think you’re an over-privileged asshole, who has to be mean to get attention.”
“No, they don’t, you little tramp,” Molly said. “They recognize me as someone with class, someone who belongs in the elite, unlike you. How do you think a sixth-grader got on the Spirit Committee? You have to be someone, Prescott.
“And I do have everything.”
Little Red Riding Hoodie: A Modern Fairy Tale Page 21
