“For you!” I yelled. “For you!”
When I turned to face the field, I was met by Dee and Tex. They jumped all over me in excitement and almost knocked me down. On the way back to the bench, I received congratulatory pats from much of the team. Aggressive warrior-like growls of appreciation, head butts, hugs from my coaches, and some of the cheerleaders led a chant with my name in it.
“Who do we want? Evan! Who do we need? Evan!”
Mama and Daddy were waving and yelling. I hopefully returned the gesture. Above them, Patty smiled, and I was warmed over inside. It didn’t matter that Aunt Mary was sitting and looking in the other direction, attempting to show me that she couldn’t care less. Nothing really mattered except the fact that Patty Cunningham seemed proud.
I was all over the field the rest of the night. I was in that zone where you feel warm and loose all the way down to your bones. And that heat leads you into a rhythm that you can’t understand; you just go with it. When it was over, I had two interceptions and eleven unassisted tackles. After I told Dee how I tackled Rainey and he passed it on, our defense managed to hold him to two touchdowns. We won big, 34 to 14.
Still, all was not well. Inside the field house, Taliferro stormed over to my locker.
“You gone pay for showing off,” he said.
During the game, I had not been afraid. But after I changed, I walked to my parents’ car looking time after time over my shoulder.
•••
“Having a big head about something you done will get you one thang for sure,” Mama Jennie used to say. “And that’s a enemy.”
I took this into consideration, but only for a second. Most of what I had were enemies, so I thought it perfectly all right to dwell on my physical prowess. From Saturday morning on, I read the headlines over and over again.
“WALLS SPARKS THE CANAAN DEFENSE,” said The Daily Pilot.
“WALLS LIVES UP TO PREDICTIONS,” from The Canaan Courier.
“A STAR IN THE MAKING,” proclaimed The Virginian Press.
At lunch hour on Monday, I sat in Patty’s and my usual spot, my head lost in that morning’s paper, which anticipated what I would do on the upcoming Friday. As I read, I relived the past Friday night and pondered my future. With continued good play and the kind of publicity I was receiving, I was sure to be chosen by a Division I college. The pros! I could just see myself intercepting a Terry Bradshaw pass and dodging tacklers all the way to the goal line.
Patty caught me in the act. I know she must have guessed that I was chasing some more glory because my body was rocking as if I were eluding blockers.
“Are you getting to the quarterback?” she asked.
I laughed and dropped the paper quickly, trying to look at least a little modest.
“Reading and dreaming about yourself, huh?”
“Well—”
“Oh, it’s okay.”
“Why, thank you,” I said. “I appreciate your allowing me to indulge.”
Patty laughed. “Why, any time.”
“So,” I continued as I dropped my head to cover my embarrassment. “Did you like what you saw?”
“I did.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” She smiled. “I was very proud.”
I tried hard not to smile, but I couldn’t help myself.
“I was proud of you and worried for you.”
“Why?”
“Because of something my father noticed,” she said, pulling a sandwich out of her lunch bag.
“What was that?”
“You want a bite?”
“No, thanks.”
“Well, he thought that some of your teammates weren’t too excited about you.”
“Was it that obvious?”
“Only to those who know that after the play is over, you don’t spear your own teammate in the back with your helmet.”
“Damn.”
I was hurt and embarrassed that everything I did had to be tainted somehow. There was nothing I could do to get away from being controversial. I imagined Ethel Brown or Chauncey Mae showing up at my house and saying something like, “Well, you might thank you got something special on your hands and all ’cause he can play a little football, but his teammates can still see the real him. Ain’t you seen how they can’t stand Evan?” That would likely ruin the excitement my parents were feeling for me. The new feeling I had at home was built on shaky ground, but it felt good to be treated like a son again. It felt good not to have to go to the woods for fear of being beaten up. It felt good to be talked to without being yelled at.
“Dad wanted to know if you were a prima donna because you were so good,” Patty continued.
“What did you tell him?’
“I told him no. I told him that you were a good friend of mine.”
“And what did he say about that?”
“Well, he looked at me strangely, and I could tell right away that he was trying to figure out just how friendly I was with you. A couple of plays went by, and I could feel him glancing at me. Then you’d do something great, and I’d jump up, and he’d look at me again. Finally, I just said, ‘Dad, what’s wrong with you?’ And he told me to watch myself. He told me that all Southern black boys want to get in the pants of white girls. He said it was one of the great goals of their lives. He said he didn’t mind my being friends with you, but that I should be cautious. He acted strangely the rest of the night. And all I said was that you were my friend.”
“I’m not surprised,” I said. “I’m not surprised at all.”
“Well, I am. You don’t know my dad . . . Well, I guess I don’t either, huh?” She laughed uncomfortably. “I mean, he always talked the good liberal talk and walked the good liberal walk. Both my parents did. And I believed them when they laid out the people-are-people routine. I’d always believed him until Friday night.”
I was scared listening to her talk. I really liked Patty. And truth be told, I needed her. Her liking me gave me back some of my self-esteem. But now I saw the handwriting on the wall. Her father had warned her off, and she was preparing to let me down easily, because we both knew that we were well on our way to being more than just friends.
I guess Patty could see it in my eyes. She looked at me and smiled. She shook her head. “Don’t worry, Evan. I’m not going to run from you. No one has been as wonderful to me here as you have been. You were the first to be nice to me, and your friendship is very special. Don’t let my dad’s hang-ups worry you. His hang-ups are not mine.”
She took my hand and squeezed it. Then she took my chin and pulled me to her. And we had our first kiss, which I could not savor because as we pulled apart with smiles on our faces, we saw Eugenia Pitts standing in front of us shaking her head. I froze. Eugenia frowned and walked away.
Immediately, I recalled a conversation from the previous school year. I’d been sitting on the short brick wall that bordered the walkway into the main school building. Not far from me, a group of black girls, including Eugenia, were sitting and talking about dating boys. I just happened to glance in their general direction when one of them attacked.
“What you looking at, wannabe white nigger?”
“Nothing. I’m just sitting here minding my own damned business.”
“You was listening to us. I could tell. Probably trying to figure out how to get one of us to like you. Well, you can forget that shit.”
Eugenia said, “Snowball don’t want no sister girl. He don’t like nothing but them honkies anyway. I bet you think you gone marry a white girl.”
“So what if I do?” I shouted back at her. It still hurt me badly that she and Rosetta Jones treated me poorly, because we had once been close friends. Not as close as the guys, but they were on my damn porch every Thursday evening for all of those early summers, and we’d had a lot of fun.
“You’re a traitor to black women,” Eugenia had continued.
Even though at the time I had no thoughts of interracial marriage, this was a point that
I tried to be sympathetic toward. Especially after hearing about Aunt Mary’s rape. But the black girls I knew always made me feel defensive. They tore at my pride.
“If I don’t date or marry someone white, would you go out with me or ever consider marrying me?” I asked her.
“Shit no!” she replied. “You ain’t man enough or black enough for me.”
“Then what the fuck do you care who I go out with?”
“You’re a damn disgrace to black people!” she shouted. “Poor little white boy locked up in his black skin. You musta done something terrible in your life before this one ’cause the big judge gave you a sentence worse than death, didn’t he?”
At times, I thought she was right.
“What do you think she’ll do?” Patty asked, bringing me back to the present.
“I don’t know, but she’ll do something. Maybe we should play it cool for a while as far as hanging out here at lunch.”
“I think you’re right.”
“Yeah,” I continued. “She hates me too much to ignore a kiss from a white girl.”
Throughout the rest of that afternoon, I constantly looked over my shoulders. I searched hard for Eugenia’s imminent attack. I wanted to be prepared. But she never even acknowledged me, which was normal. Nevertheless, she made me sweat. I played mind games with myself. She knew that playing it cool was driving me crazy. I thought she would get me all worked up and then lower the boom. I couldn’t stand the tension.
Patty would glance at me from across the room and catch me nervously twitching. She’d catch my eye and move her lips, saying, “Be cool.” And although I would nod, I couldn’t.
By the time I reached football practice, my left eyelid was twitching uncontrollably, I’d entered a new realm of paranoia. Luckily, the coaches hadn’t planned a serious practice. Just a lot of running, stretching, talking about the game. The first thing on the agenda was the game film. Over and over again, Head Coach Kendel pointed out my “excellent” play. I wasn’t the only one that he pointed out, but I was the only one Taliferro and gang didn’t want to hear about.
Out on the field, Taliferro strode past me and shouted, “Fucking showboat.” I tried to ignore him, but I could not. My defenses had been at war since lunch, and they were weak. Like an animal, he sensed the fear. He put the word out, and I began getting elbows and knees shoved into various parts of my body.
“We’re supposed to be walking through this play!” I shouted at one guy.
“Fuck you, punk,” the guy replied. My eyelid began to twitch more and more.
“Oh, you gonna pay,” Taliferro said just before practice ended.
By the time the final meeting in the field house ended, I was shivering. I took deep breaths at my locker to try to calm down.
Coach Kendel helped a little when he patted me on the shoulder as he walked out the door. When I turned to follow him, because I didn’t want to be left in there alone, I found Taliferro in the middle of my path.
I opened my mouth to shout for coach, but Taliferro drew back a fist and was ready to hit me when a player named Harrison called his name. Taliferro dropped his fist and turned to find several white players confronting him. Then T. Wall, Flak and the rest of Taliferro’s guys lined up behind him. I couldn’t believe this. White guys were going to fight black guys on my behalf? But it turned out they didn’t really care about me. They just wanted to win.
“He’s the best player on our defense,” Harrison said.
“I’m the best player on defense,” Taliferro countered.
“Well, whatever. But I know this. We need Evan if we are going to win this year. So, lay off him.”
Taliferro was beside himself with anger, but he backed down. That had to really hurt because now, like his father, he had knuckled under to the white man. And in front of the whole team.
As he walked away, Harrison said to me, “Don’t get me wrong. I ain’t in love with you. You start fucking up, and he can have you.”
I skipped the shower and quickly changed. As I walked out of the field house, I saw Patty at a distance. She curled her finger and nodded in the direction of the bleachers. I followed and found her sitting on the ground between two of the cement supports.
“Why are you still at school? And why are we here?” I asked.
“I hung around because I needed to talk to you. And we are here in this lovely spot because I figured we blew our cover at our other meeting place. I saw some kids playing back here at the game. Looks pretty safe to me.”
“I agree,” I replied while looking around. “Good pick.”
I sat beside her and explained what had happened at the field house. I told her that I was afraid that things were getting out of hand. I was going to get through this week’s game and then see Coach Kendel on Monday.
“That sounds good,” Patty replied. “But I think a little vacation might help even more.”
I laughed. “Yeah, right.”
“I’m serious. Three weeks from now, I want you to ask Dee if you can tell your parents that you are spending the weekend with him.”
“Patty, I’m just getting my parents back. I can’t ask them to spend the night at a white boy’s house. Not to mention that, while Dee’s parents have been great to me, that might be too much to ask of them. And why would—”
“No, you wouldn’t stay there. You’d just say you’d be there. You’d be with me.”
“Okay, but where are we going to be?”
“That’s my secret. You just see if you can make it work. Tell them about the white boys who stood up for you today. Maybe they’ll find a white boy soft spot.”
I looked at her and chuckled. “You know you’re crazy, and I can’t believe I’m even considering this.”
“Do it! Just let me do something nice for you. You need a break from Canaan and especially this school.”
I was really touched by her wanting to take care of me, and I couldn’t bear to disappoint her.
“You’re incredible, Patty.”
“I’m your best friend, Evan Walls.”
“I believe that. I really do.”
Patty smiled and placed her hand on my cheek. I could see how much she cared. “Come on,” she said. “You scrunch down in the back seat, and I’ll drive you home.”
SIXTEEN
By the time three weeks rolled around, I was extremely excited. We were undefeated, it was game day, and all of us players were once again in our jerseys. I loved walking through the halls and seeing all of that blue and gold dispersed throughout the student body. Just after lunch, we had our weekly pep rally, and as usual, I was really pumped after it was over. But this week there was more to be charged up about. All day I thought about spending the weekend with Patty Cunningham.
As darkness fell, I stood loosening up my legs. The band had just finished playing the national anthem, and across the field stood that night’s enemy, the Hawks of Burnt Mills High School. They came to town boasting of their superb passing attack. “Unbelievable for a high school team,” their coach said in a newspaper article. But he didn’t know about Bojack, and he didn’t take my reputation seriously. That night, I stole three passes from their quarterback and his receivers. The interceptions set a Canaan record. In the locker room, I was surprised by a college scout.
“Good game, Walls. Jack Davis,” he said, holding out his hand. “University of Maryland.”
“Thank you,” I replied. “And nice to meet you.”
“Likewise. You put on quite a show out there.”
I glanced around the locker room, and Dee and Tex were giving me the well aren’t you special look along with a couple of very big smiles. I returned the favor later with Tex because he ended up with a couple of college coaches standing around his locker as well.
“Just doing my job,” I said.
“Maybe we could talk sometime?”
“Yes, sir. You say when.”
“I guess that means you’re interested in playing college ball?”
/> “And maybe professional.”
Davis laughed. “One step at a time, my man. I’ll get in touch with Coach Kendel and set up a meeting with you and your parents.”
“Sounds great.”
“Keep in shape,” he said and punched me on the shoulder as he made his way out.
“Fuckhead,” Taliferro yelled from across the field house.
“On the floor!” my defensive coach yelled at Taliferro. “Give me fifty.”
Taliferro got into position and began doing pushups, and I could feel the heat of his anger. Then Coach Kendel came in and cleared the room except for the players. He gave us the usual post-game talk about staying focused. One game at a time. No need to get ahead of ourselves. During his speech, I felt Taliferro looking at me.
I dressed nicely and found Patty’s car in the parking lot. I snuck over to it, knocked on the back door, and curled up on the back seat with enough clothes for the weekend.
“You look pissed off,” Patty said when she saw me.
“A little.”
“Don’t worry,” she said. “Tonight, I’m going to take you away from all this nonsense. I’m going to take you to a place where people won’t care if we kiss. If they do, they don’t bother to waste their time telling you about it.”
“There’s a place like that?”
“Yes. It’s not perfect, but it’s better than Canaan by a long shot.”
We drove about an hour and a half and I was shocked when we got to the Norfolk airport.
“Ever heard of the Essex House?”
“It’s a hotel in New York City, right? I read about it. A lot of famous people live there instead of in homes or apartments.”
“Yep. That’s it.”
“You’re taking me there!”
“And other places. We’re gonna do the town, baby.”
“How can you afford this?”
“My parents. They think I’m alone, though.”
“But how did you pay for my ticket?”
Patty held up a credit card and smiled. “I’ve got it covered.”
The Emancipation of Evan Walls Page 22
