by Monica Nolan
“I don’t want to be a fink,” worried the brainy fourth former.
“Here’s what we’ll do—you don’t have to name names, just tell me what was said and done,” Bobby proposed.
“Well, Ber—one girl hit Angle in the shin with her stick, accidentally-on-purpose, and then Hel—then she got tripped on the next play, and then Angle threw down her stick and said if they wanted to beat her up why didn’t they use their bare hands and stop pretending to play field hockey, and Li—one of them said, ‘Well, why don’t you just give the locket back,’ and Angle said if she wanted cheap jewelry she’d go to the five-and-dime in Adena and everyone started to yell at her and Kayo told them to be quiet and stop picking on Angle, who only acted so disagreeable because her mother ran away with another man and her parents are getting a divorce, and that’s when Angle slapped her.” Lotta furrowed her brow. “And I don’t understand why Angle slapped Kayo when Kayo was the only one sticking up for her!”
Bobby didn’t have time to explain the intricacies of adolescent psychology to the puzzled water girl. She dismissed the anxious youngster and headed to her office, glad that she’d reread Chapter 14, “The Structure of Student Values: Adult Impact on Effective Socialization,” in The Adolescent and His Society only last week. It made a lot more sense this time around!
Kayo was sitting in the straight-backed chair facing Bobby’s desk, holding the picture of the Spitfires in her hand, studying it intently. When Bobby entered she hastily put it back in its place next to Bobby’s pencil cup.
“That was taken after we won the 1962 Midwest Regional Women’s Field Hockey League championship,” Bobby said as she pulled the chair from behind her desk and set it next to Kayo’s. The last thing she wanted was the desk acting as a barrier of age and authority between them. She intended to follow the book’s recommendations, to appeal to Kayo as an adult instead of treating her like a child. Kayo wielded tremendous influence over her teammates, over all Metamora, in fact. If Bobby could persuade Kayo to champion Angle, her job as coach would be a lot simpler.
“That’s you, in the middle?” Kayo indicated a smiling, tousle-haired Bobby. “You look so young.”
“Do I?” Bobby studied the photo with new eyes. “It’s funny, I don’t feel much older now! In fact, I’m at my wits’ end with the situation on the team, and I’m here to ask for your help.”
Kayo’s eyes glowed. “I’ll do anything I can to help you, Coach Bobby.”
“Could you be friends with Angle?”
Kayo’s face changed as swiftly as a prairie sky when a fast-moving storm approaches. “Angle,” she repeated.
“Look, I know that was quite a blow you just took. I know you didn’t deserve it. You probably didn’t realize that exposing her private problems like that was the worst thing to do—”
A small smile twitched the corner of Kayo’s mouth and Bobby stopped, aghast. Kayo had known exactly how provoking her words had been. What was the cause of this deep-seated enmity for Angle?
“Kayo.” Bobby changed tactics abruptly. “You don’t really think Angle stole your locket, do you?”
“I honestly don’t know,” Kayo declared. “But I do know she’s had it in for us DAP girls since she got here. She’s a troublemaker. You saw how she behaved during the game with the Holy Virgins! She’s just not a team player. Honestly, Coach Bobby, don’t you think the team would be better off without her?”
Is it Angle’s defiance of her leadership that Kayo can’t stand?
“What about your pass to Annette in the fourth quarter, when you bypassed Angle?” Bobby pointed out. “That wasn’t very good teamwork either. Should I kick you off the team?”
“Oh, you’re always defending her,” Kayo broke out bitterly. “You’re always giving her special coaching, having those long talks, just the two of you, treating her like your special pet!”
Why, Kayo’s jealous! Bobby was dazed with the sudden realization.
“I work like a dog to get the girls to come to the extra practices and make them do their drills. I’m behind on organizing the regional DAP luncheon, I’ve fallen asleep at a Prefecture meeting, my grades are starting to slip, and you don’t even notice!”
“Why, Kayo, of course I notice! I couldn’t get along without you as my captain,” Bobby hastened to reassure the resentful teen queen. “And if I’ve leaned on you so much that your other activities are suffering, we’ll certainly have to make some—”
“Oh, I don’t mind!” Kayo interrupted vehemently. “I’m willing to do anything for you—if only you could see me as more than just the captain of the squad!”
Kayo was leaning toward Bobby, her face flushed with passion. Her lips were parted and her breath came quickly. The hockey coach was suddenly struck by the teenager’s uncanny resemblance to her aunt Dot. She put out a hand to restrain the panting girl, but Kayo snatched it eagerly and pressed it to her breast.
“You think of me as a schoolgirl, but I feel like a woman!”
Bobby’s blood ran faster and she found herself breathing shallowly as her body responded against her will to this radiant young creature who had slid out of her chair and was kneeling before her.
“Kayo, I—” Bobby rose to her feet as she spoke, intending to beat a hasty retreat behind her desk, but Kayo rose with her, and instead Bobby found herself backed up against the big wooden desk.
Bobby gripped the edge of the desk with both hands to keep herself from reaching for the captain of the Savages. The force of her sudden desire was like the heavy pressure of a raging river on a fragile earthen dam when the caretaker has forgotten to open the sluice gates.
“I can’t be satisfied anymore with pashes, or exchanging mash notes, or even fooling around in the bicycle shed! Since you came to Metamora this fall, you’re all I think about, all I dream about.” Kayo bit her lower lip with her pearl-like teeth. “Maybe you think there’s something wrong with me—”
“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Bobby hastened to reassure the ardent student. “At your age, it’s perfectly normal to have crushes.”
She smoothed Kayo’s hair back from the girl’s flushed face in a gesture meant to be motherly. But somehow her hand slid down Kayo’s back to her rounded buttocks and Bobby gave the girl a tug that pulled the field hockey captain against her coach. “Perfectly normal,” she murmured as she tasted the salty sweat on Kayo’s neck.
She scarcely heard Kayo’s low moan of delight. The scent of teenaged sweat had suddenly transported Bobby back in time, to her freshman year at Elliott College, when her craving for Madge Madison, the assistant field hockey coach, had driven her half mad. Then came that wonderful day when Madge took her to the nurse’s room to tape up her twisted ankle. Bobby still couldn’t say how it had happened, but one moment Madge was all business, and the next moment the roll of tape was on the floor and she and Bobby were kissing each other hungrily….
Kayo’s mouth was a voracious vortex of pleasure. Her hands were in Bobby’s hair. Bobby yanked open the teen’s white uniform blouse and Kayo gasped in startled excitement.
Bobby had been unable to believe her good fortune that afternoon, as she and Madge shed their hockey kilts and Madge taught her the rules and regulations of this new sport. And when Madge had pushed her down on the paper-covered exam table…
Blindly, the young coach swept the surface of her desk with one arm, pushing pencils and paper out of the way. She hoisted the quivering center onto the desk. Kayo’s kilt was hiked up around her waist, and Bobby stood between her firm thighs, feverishly fondling the full young breasts as she probed her captain’s mouth with an avid tongue. Kayo clung to Bobby with one hand, and braced herself with the other, her breathing uneven.
“I want—” she panted when they came up for air.
“I think I know,” muttered Bobby hoarsely. Kayo fell back on the desk, pulling Bobby astride her. Dimly, Bobby heard the metal stapler clank on the floor as she concentrated on the supple, athletic body beneath her….
It was like being hit by a hurricane, she’d thought that day. The Bobby she knew had been wiped out and rebuilt, like a small Kansas town after a tornado. Madge had taught her things about her body and physical capacities she’d never have figured out on her own. Maybe that’s when I was bitten by the teaching bug, Bobby thought, even if I didn’t realize it.…
“Oh!” cried Kayo. “Oh! Oh! Oh!”
While Bobby had been woolgathering, revisiting happy memories, habit had kept her hands busy, and now Kayo lay spent and satisfied beneath her.
“Feeling better?” inquired Bobby, just as Madge had asked her five years before. She helped Kayo sit up, remembering how her own muscles had felt like Jell-o as she’d staggered off that faraway exam table.
“Oh, yes!” said Kayo, and then added dazedly, “Is that someone at the door?”
For the first time Bobby was aware of a persistent knocking. “Who’s there?” she called as she began scooping up scattered play lists, attendance rosters, and league schedules from the floor. “Button your shirt,” she ordered Kayo, who still sat limply, as if in a dream.
“It’s Angle,” came the subdued reply.
“Just a sec.” Bobby pulled down her sweatshirt and smoothed her hair. Kayo was doing likewise. “You’re missing a button,” Bobby tossed her a cardigan. “Put this over your blouse.”
When Kayo had buttoned the borrowed garment over the evidence of their impetuous passion, Bobby opened the door. Angle recoiled at the sight of Kayo, who beamed at her blissfully.
“I know you’ll think about what I said,” Bobby told Kayo. The blond beauty looked bewildered. “About using your influence,” Bobby reminded her.
“Oh! Yes, absolutely.” She meandered off down the corridor as Angle stepped inside warily.
Oh, cripes, Bobby thought as she watched the retreating girl. That was my Spitfire letter sweater I loaned her. This was just the sort of thing that could cause jealousy among the squad.
“Sit down, Angle.” Bobby turned her attention to the troubled teen.
Angle sat in the chair Kayo had occupied just moments before, while Bobby placed herself safely behind the desk. “I’m sorry I ran off,” began the young hooligan, “but I’m not sorry I slapped Kayo! My parents are none of her business!”
“I know it’s awful to have people gossiping about your private affairs,” Bobby replied, “but in a small school like Metamora, gossip is hard to stop. You’ll have to learn to ignore what people say instead of resorting to violence.”
“I don’t let anyone walk all over me,” Angle snarled.
“Listen to me, Angle! Real toughness doesn’t always mean hitting back. Real toughness means taking it on the chin without falling down!” Bobby could tell by Angle’s stillness that she was really listening. “Besides, I’m sure Kayo meant well.”
Angle snorted. “That’s a good joke.”
Bobby should have known Angle wouldn’t be fooled either. “Well, your response was out of bounds. I can’t have my hockey players socking each other, under any circumstances!”
Angle wilted. “Are you going to kick me off the team?” She reached down and picked the Spitfires photo from the floor and placed it carefully on the desk.
“Maybe I ought to, but no, I’m going to give you another chance.” Bobby spotted her stapler and nudged it under the desk with her foot. “I’m suspending your town privileges for the rest of the semester. I’m benching you until you apologize—”
“Apologize!” Angle’s head shot up.
“—and you and Kayo will have special one-on-one practices until you learn to get along.”
“Kayo’s going to blow a gasket when she hears that,” Angle predicted, not without pleasure.
“I think Kayo will be quite cooperative,” Bobby retorted. A picture of Kayo, splayed out on the desk, flashed across her mind in spite of herself.
After Angle left, Bobby stared at the picture of the Spitfires, recalling those olden days. She was glad she’d been able to restore Kayo’s self-confidence, to reassure the girl that she was an asset to the team. However, now she recalled the aftermath of her affair with Madge. How upset Tiny had been! She’d tackled Bobby viciously during a practice scrimmage. And then there were the whispers of favoritism when Bobby was made a first-string sub. She hadn’t thought of that in a long while.
Bobby hoped that particular part of history wouldn’t repeat itself.
Chapter Sixteen
The Blown Fuse
Several weeks later, Bobby was sitting at her desk in her suite in Cornwall with a pile of clippings and a pot of paste. It was a cold night, and the wind rattled the panes of glass and echoed down the chimney. Bobby had decided to spend the evening updating her scrapbook.
Her hand hovered over the first clipping in the pile. “What esteemed Prefecture President was dealt a geometrical blow last Saturday? (and we don’t mean metaphorically!)” read the item.
It was from The Metamora Musings’s popular “Guess Who?” column. Alice Bjorklund had apologized to Bobby—“Honestly, I don’t know how I missed it”—but Bobby couldn’t blame the newspaper’s faculty moderator for the anti-Angle sentiment that had taken hold of the student body. The latest episode in the Angle-Kayo feud would have spread like wildfire, even without the help of the printed word. Only Miss Craybill, who grew vaguer and more distracted every day, was unaware of it. Kayo told everyone that it was “just a misunderstanding,” but the student body was unconvinced. Angle had the distinction of being the least popular student on campus.
The truculent teen didn’t help matters, refusing to apologize to Kayo. “I have no intention of apologizing,” Bobby heard her tell a reporter from the Musings, quite coolly. The coach was at a loss, confronted with this contrary creature, who would not behave like any teen she’d read about in Adolescent Development Patterns, or even The Adolescent and His Society. It was almost as if she reveled in the suspicion and disdain with which most of her classmates viewed her. She even seemed to get a twisted satisfaction from the one-on-one practices with her nemesis, Kayo!
The Harvest Moon Mixer with the Patton Military Academy for Boys was approaching, the Games Mistress reminded herself hopefully. Weren’t adolescent girls supposed to be interested in experimenting with the opposite sex? Would the big fall dance distract any of the Metamorians from this field hockey soap opera? Somehow, she doubted it.
She picked up the next clipping. “SCIENTIFIC METHOD FAILS TO FIND MISSING NECKLACE.” When she’d cut this out, she’d felt a grim satisfaction in seeing her prediction come true. But she’d have endured Enid’s triumph with equanimity if it had cleared away the cloud of suspicion that still shrouded Angle!
“SAVAGES STRIKE AGAIN!” “SAVAGES WIN OVER AMES TECH.” “SAVAGES’ WINNING STREAK CONTINUES.”
Bobby laid the three articles side by side, savoring the progress they charted. Despite Angle being benched, despite the lack of cohesiveness, the Savages had done quite well so far this season. Surprisingly well, in fact. Unbelievably well, Bobby thought, a slight frown creasing her forehead.
The fact was, they’d been aided by a series of lucky coincidences. First it was their game with Rockford. The Raging Robins had been too exhausted to rage that day—because of some snafu in the school’s schedule, the team had participated in a rock-climbing field trip right before the game. After three hours spent picking their way over the treacherous bluffs, they could barely walk, let alone defend their goal against the energetic Savages.
Or take the game with Ames Tech. The Industrious Ants were a tough team—the Holy Martyrs had beaten them in last year’s championship by a single point. The only way the Savages had managed a win was that the Ants’ three best players were benched. According to the story that circulated in the stands, the trio had been discovered dead drunk at the local sweet shop the night before. Peering at the three girls sitting on the bench with hangdog expressions and bleary red-rimmed eyes, Bobby could tell the story was true. It was shameful behavior—the mor
e so because the star center refused to accept responsibility, claiming that someone had spiked the malteds they’d ordered on the night in question.
And then there was last week’s game, with Peasley Prep. The Pea Pods were known for their brilliant coach, Gladys Tanklow, whose innovative strategies made the most of her small team’s skills. But on the day of the game an inexperienced assistant principal stood in for Coach Tanklow, who’d been called to her sick mother’s bedside. Everyone had been relieved to hear that Mama Tanklow’s illness was nothing more than a bad cold, but it didn’t change the score.
She should be grateful for the good luck, Bobby knew, but sometimes she couldn’t help wondering about this series of helpful coincidences. The Kerwins’ aunt Dot, a regular in the bleachers at her nieces’ games, celebrated each victory with gusto. She pooh-poohed Bobby’s concerns and had invited the coach more than once to have a drink with her and talk strategy. Bobby turned her down. It would have upset Laura.
Bobby frowned. Of course, she liked Laura lots, but she couldn’t get used to the teacher’s temperamental mood swings. The evening after Kayo entered the dining hall wearing Bobby’s Spitfire letter sweater, the Art Mistress had appeared at Bobby’s door demanding, “Who are you going steady with—Kayo or me?” Yet in the faculty lounge or dining hall—whenever Ken was around—she avoided the Games Mistress.
Sometimes Bobby wondered if Laura’s special friendship was worth the trouble. But she couldn’t help feeling sorry for the neglected wife. “You don’t know what it’s like, living with Ken,” the Art Mistress sobbed one night. “The excruciating boredom! I’m going to divorce him, just as soon as I find a way to tell Mother.”
And what would she do without those stolen moments when the shock of Laura’s heated flesh against her own, her searching lips, her hoarse cries, the collision of their two bodies, released Bobby’s pent-up desire from its cage?
Without the sultry Art Mistress, it would certainly be harder to resist Kayo, who was waiting, always waiting, for another moment alone with her coach. Bobby tried to show the Savages’ captain by her businesslike behavior that the scene in the coach’s office would never be repeated, but she wasn’t sure Kayo was getting the message. Should she speak to her? Remembering their last encounter, Bobby didn’t think another student-teacher conference would be wise. Besides, Kayo was playing better than ever these days, and her coach certainly didn’t want to jinx that!
