Initiation

by Phil M. Williams

  One person sat by herself. Sarah was in a corner, a brown paper bag in front of her. She was sipping from a thermos with one hand, the other holding open a paperback. Despite the differences between the cliques and cultures, most of the kids were similar in their dress, their speech, and their mannerisms. Sarah was the outlier. She looked like she belonged in a café, sipping coffee in some famous European city.

  Carter balanced his tray and paced over.

  “May I join you, Madam?” he said in his portentous voice.

  She glanced up from her book. “Why yes, my good sir,” she replied.

  Carter placed his tray in front of her and sat down.

  She scrunched up her face. “How can you eat that crap?”

  Carter shrugged, picked up a fry, and shoved it into his mouth. “What are you reading?” he mumbled, his mouth full.

  She flipped the cover of the tattered text. “All The President’s Men by Bernstein and Woodward.”

  “What’s that about?”

  “You don’t know who Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein are?”

  “Should I?”

  “Well of course. They were the Washington Post journalists that broke the Watergate scandal. You think football requires courage. Politicians are snakes.”

  A hand touched Carter’s shoulder. He turned around to Amber’s pouting face. “I thought we were gonna have lunch together,” she said.

  Carter raised his eyebrows. “You never said –”

  “You don’t mind if I borrow my boyfriend, do you?” Amber said to Sarah, her smile dripping with artificial sweetener. Carter’s eyes widened at the word “boyfriend”.

  “By all means,” Sarah said.

  “Come on, sweetie,” Amber said, tugging on his T-shirt.

  Carter stood and grabbed his tray. “I’ll see you later?” he asked Sarah.

  Sarah smirked. “I don’t know, are you allowed?”

  * * *

  Carter and The North Potomac Marauders took a knee on the dusty practice field in front of Coach Cowan. The players had their helmets off exposing their young faces, some marked with acne, many more with red marks on their foreheads. They had disheveled hair that was wet with sweat. Coach Cowan took off his hat and wiped his brow. His eyes were red, his face stubbly. He placed his hat back on his head.

  He glanced around at the players in front of him. “I don’t like what I been seein’ this week.” His jaw was set tight. “On Monday and Tuesday we looked just plain flat. And today, y’all figured out a way to be even worse. If y’all think Washington Heights is just gonna lay down, you got another thing comin’. These guys are the real deal. We might be seein’ them again in the playoffs. If you come out flat on Friday, these guys will eat your lunch. As of right now, I’m puttin’ this entire team on notice. If you’re not givin’ me the type of effort that I expect, I’ll find someone else. Don’t think I can’t do it. We got damn near a hundred kids. If you think you’re somethin’ because you got that black jersey …” he shook his head. “Well, I’m here to tell you that you’re wrong. Dead wrong. You’re only as good as your last play. I can replace anybody on this team. And I do mean anybody. I don’t care how good the paper says you are.” Coach Cowan paused for effect. “You know what separates the state champions from everyone else?”

  “Hard work,” Justin blurted out.

  Coach Cowan shook his head. “You gotta work hard, but lots of teams work hard. Most of ’em don’t amount to a hill o’ beans. It ain’t just about workin’ hard. It’s about attention to detail and doin’ all the little things. I expect wide receivers to get those blocks downfield, to come off the ball just as hard on runnin’ plays as they do on pass plays. I expect lineman to play to the whistle. I see too many fat linemen takin’ plays off.” Coach eyed Michael Townsend and his gut. “If you’re so fat that you have to take plays off, you won’t play for me – period. I expect running backs to run north and south and finish runs by lowering their shoulders. I see too much god damn dancin’. I expect linebackers to make plays at the line of scrimmage. I see too many arm tackles. I expect defensive backs to lock down those receivers. You should take it as a personal insult if your man catches a single pass. We’re givin’ up too much.

  “The bottom line is we’re not playin’ state championship quality football. If this was the best we could do, fine. But it’s not, and y’all know it and I’m not gonna stand around while y’all piss it away.”

  He glanced at Coach Ware. “What do you think, Coach?”

  Coach Ware stood with his arms crossed, his face shielded by dark shades. He shook his head. “They think they can just show up and teams are gonna roll over.”

  Coach Cowan put his hands on his hips. “I think it’s even worse than that. We got a couple guys that think they don’t even have to show up. Luke, what is our attendance policy?”

  “If we miss three practices –”

  “Stand up, Luke,” Coach Cowan said.

  Luke stood up in front of his teammates. “If we miss three practices without an excuse provided by phone or parents’ note we will be kicked off the team.”

  “And here we are, not even to our first game yet and we already got two players with three unexcused absences. They’re done. So, if you see Keith Howard or Ben Wheeler, you tell ’em they better turn their stuff in or their parents are gonna get a big bill. These rules apply to everyone. I’m a tell you right now, don’t test me. Tomorrow I expect to see state champions.” Coach Cowan looked at his quarterback. “Luke, break us down.”

  * * *

  Mrs. Wheeler stood in the doorway, bags under her eyes. She forced a smile.

  “Carter honey, I’m glad you’re here,” she said. “Come in.”

  Carter stepped inside, the setting sun behind him.

  “I really need to talk to you,” she said.

  They walked into the kitchen. Carter sat on a stool at the counter, his hair still wet from the shower. Mrs. Wheeler stood opposite.

  “I just stopped by to see how Ben’s doing.” Carter said.

  She rubbed her temples. “To be honest, I really don’t know. But something’s really wrong. I know Ben, and …” she trailed off. “Well, I just know something’s really wrong.”

  Carter bit the inside of his cheek. “Is he sick?”

  She exhaled, shaking her head. “I wish it were that simple. He won’t go to school or practice. He won’t even leave his room. Since he started playing football, he’s never missed a single practice. I think something happened, but he won’t talk to me.”

  Carter looked down at the counter.

  “You used to come over here every day and then I stopped seeing you.”

  Carter looked up, his eyes wide. “I didn’t do anything.”

  “I didn’t think you did. I’m just trying to understand what’s going on with my son. What happened between you two?”

  Carter shrugged. “He was mad at me and told me to leave, so I did.” He looked back to the counter.

  “Why, honey? I won’t be mad, I promise. I’m just trying to understand.”

  “He really wanted to start this year. He’s upset that’s he’s still on the scout team, and he thinks I’m partly to blame for that.”

  Her shoulders slumped. “How is that your fault?”

  Carter shook his head. “The first team right corner tore his ACL the second week of camp, but they didn’t move Ben up. They moved the safety that was ahead of me to corner ahead of Ben. So I moved up at safety instead. Then they moved Devin from the left side to the right to start over Ben.”

  “I don’t understand. Who’s this Devin person, and how are you involved?”

  “Devin’s a transfer like me. Ben thinks it’s unfair that we’re both starting but we haven’t been with the team for very long. I’m really sorry.”

  She frowned. “No, honey, you have nothing to be sorry for.”

  Carter rubbed the back of his neck.

  “He was grumpy when you guys were practicing all da
y,” she said. “Are they called two practice days?”

  “Two-a-days.”

  “He was upset then, and was probably mad about not playing, but I think this is different. It’s much worse. Do you have any idea what might have happened?” Her eyes searched Carter’s.

  “I’m not sure.” He glanced away.

  “Can you talk to him? See if you can find out?”

  “I can try.”

  She had tears in her eyes. “Thank you, Carter.”

  “Is it okay if I go upstairs?” he asked.

  “Of course.”

  Carter knocked on Ben’s bedroom door. No response. He knocked harder. Nothing.

  “Hey, Ben, it’s me,” Carter said through the door. “I just wanted to see how you’re doing. I’m gonna come in, okay?” Carter put his hand on the door knob and turned.

  “Go away,” Ben said.

  Carter released the knob. “Can I come in and talk to you?”

  “When I told you to get the fuck out of my house, I meant it.”

  Carter took a deep breath. “Coach Cowan said you violated the attendance policy. He’s kicking you off the team.” There was a long pause. “Ben?”

  “What difference does it make? It’s not like they would have ever given me a chance.”

  “That’s not true. You were on the kickoff team.”

  “That doesn’t matter now, does it?”

  “You just need to have your mom and dad talk to Coach Cowan. He’ll let you back on.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to be back on. You know, Sarah was right. Football is a stupid ass game.”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” Carter said through the door. “You didn’t do anything wrong at the initiation.” There was silence. “Ben?”

  “Amber’s been with half the football team. She’s a whore.”

  Carter didn’t respond.

  “Sarah told me you two were boyfriend and girlfriend,” Ben said. “I wouldn’t touch that skank with a ten-foot-pole.”

  Carter didn’t respond.

  Ben laughed. “You still there, or did you run off for an HIV test? Hey, douchebag, you still there?”

  Carter clenched his fists. “If it wasn’t for what happened on Saturday, I would punch you in your fucking face.”

  Ben laughed. “There he is, the real Carter Lynch.”

  Carter walked away.

  – 8 –

  The Unraveling

  Ben and Sarah sat across from one another at a back-corner table. Carter stood balancing his tray of hot dogs and French fries. He trudged to his own peer-assigned lunch spot. Amber greeted him with a smile.

  “Hey, you,” she said, patting the space next to her.

  Carter stepped into the bench seat. Zach, Noah, Justin and Luke were talking and laughing with their favorite groupies. Carter took a deep breath and loaded a fry into his mouth. Amber ate a salad from a clear plastic container.

  She nudged Carter with her hip. “Look at those little sluts,” she said, gesturing with a nod of her head. “The camel toe crew.”

  “Camel toe crew?”

  She giggled. “You don’t know what camel toe is?”

  Carter shook his head.

  “It’s when girls wear really tight pants and you can see the lips of their vag. It looks like a camel’s toe. Not that I’ve ever actually seen a real one, like, on a camel.”

  Carter frowned.

  She cackled. “What? That’s funny and you know it. I can’t believe how sheltered you are sometimes.”

  “I thought they were your friends?” Carter asked.

  “They are. Doesn’t mean they’re not a bunch of little sluts.”

  Carter glanced at the camel toe crew. “They’re just talking.”

  “You don’t see what they’re really doin’.”

  “What are they doing?”

  “Look at Lily,” she said.

  Lily had long wavy strawberry blonde hair, wide set blue eyes, and a thin figure. Her smile was expansive, bright, and shiny from her braces.

  Carter thought of Alyssa as he watched Lily giggle at Noah. “What about her?” he said.

  “See the exaggerated way she flipped her hair back. It’s so sexual. She’s so fucking giggly all the time. It’s like this annoying background noise you can’t get away from.”

  “She seems nice enough.”

  Amber scowled. “And Riley’s the biggest slut. She blew like five guys at the initiation party. She looks like a Spanish hooker. I can see those dark nipples from here. It’s so fucking gross.”

  Riley had thick, dark, wavy hair that hung just beneath her shoulders. Her face was symmetrical, her features rounded and soft. In the bright fluorescent light of the lunch room, Carter could see the darkness of her nipples through her white tank top and bra. She was laughing at Justin, who had his hot dog at his crotch.

  “I doubt she did that,” Carter said. “Everybody talks so much shit around here.”

  Amber smirked. “She was the one bragging about it.”

  “Whatever, it’s none of my business. Do you have anything nice to say about your friends?”

  “Molly’s okay,” she said. “She has some wicked thigh spread though.”

  Molly was tall and curvy, with red hair, and freckles. She sat next to Zach, his hand on her leg.

  “Do I even wanna know what thigh spread is?” Carter asked.

  She laughed. “You know, when you sit down and your thighs spread out.”

  Carter shook his head. “I’d hate to hear what you say about me when I’m not around.” He took a bite of his hot dog.

  “I tell everyone what a big dick you have.” She giggled.

  He choked and swallowed. “Funny.”

  “Chloe’s the only one I actually don’t like.”

  Chloe had long straight blonde hair to the middle of her back. She had a bright smile and a girl-next-door kind of face. She and Luke shared a lunch. He occasionally touched her hand. It was like they were in their own little world together.

  “I think Luke really likes her,” Carter said.

  “She walks around like she thinks she’s better than everyone,” Amber replied. “She’s such a little bitch.”

  Carter rubbed his temples.

  “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

  “Everybody, look at Justin,” Riley said from across the table.

  Amber nudged Carter. He looked up. Everyone was watching Justin sneak over to a back corner table carrying a bunless hot dog. Carter’s stomach churned. Come on, Justin, just throw it away. Justin crept behind Ben.

  “Hey, Ben,” Justin said.

  Ben turned around, and Justin smacked him in the face with the hotdog that he dangled from his crotch. The kids sitting with Carter exploded with laughter and pounded on the table. Most of the kids sitting nearby laughed and pointed. Ben turned around and hung his head.

  Sarah stood up, glaring at Justin, the lunch table separating them. “What the fuck is your problem?” she said.

  “You want some of my hot dog too?” Justin asked as he thrust his pelvis, flopping his imaginary penis up and down. A crowd of onlookers laughed.

  Sarah narrowed her eyes. “You’re sick. People who do stuff like this are fucking deviants. They usually have real sexual problems. What’s yours?”

  Justin grinned. “Whatever, bitch.” As he turned to walk away, he tossed the hot dog up in the air. It landed on Ben’s lunch tray. Ben flinched and the crowd got one final laugh at his expense.

  * * *

  “Come on, we’ll be quick,” Amber said.

  “I’ll never make it,” Carter said, sliding into the back seat of the Chevy Suburban SUV.

  Amber was already climbing over the back seat into the third row. Her tight black mini-skirt was hiked to mid-thigh as she climbed over. He caught a glimpse of her black thong.

  “Hurry up, we’re wasting time,” she said.

  He climbed over the seat. She reached under her mini-skirt and slid her thong down her legs.

&
nbsp; “We’re not going anywhere?” he asked.

  “You don’t have much time, right?”

  Carter glanced at the windows. “People can see in.”

  She smiled. “Isn’t that part of the fun?”

  “Seriously.”

  “The back windows are tinted,” she said. “Quit bein’ a baby.”

  Sitting next to him on the seat, she turned, leaned over, and undid his belt. She shoved her hand down his pants and grabbed his erection. He groaned and placed his hand between her legs. He moved his fingers along the outside of her vagina, grazing her clitoris. She shuddered.

  Clothes came off as if they were in a race. He kicked off his shoes and pulled his boxer briefs, jeans, and socks off in one fell swoop. She removed her blouse and unclasped her bra, sliding it down her arms. He yanked his T-shirt over his head. She hiked her skirt and lay back across the seat with her legs open. He thought of Justin’s comment. That body’s bangin’ too, all tan and shit.

  He stopped, his eyes glazing over.

  “What’s wrong?” she said.

  He snapped out of his fog and refocused on her naked form spread-eagled in front of him. He grabbed his jeans from the floor and retrieved a condom from the front pocket. She looked up at him in anticipation, as he slid the condom on, her lower lip sucked into her mouth. Her face was flushed, her green eyes wide and dilated. He hovered over her, his hands next to her shoulders, propping himself up. She pressed her fingertips into the flesh of his chest, leaving little pink marks. She slid down his V-shaped torso, her eyes gaping at his front. She stopped at his obliques and pulled him toward her. He shifted his weight to one hand. With the other he grabbed his erection, rubbing the head up and down her engorged labia, before settling at the opening. She thrust her pelvis upward as he pushed himself in. She held her breath as he pushed deeper. Her head was held back, her mouth open, her eyes closed. He moved slowly at first, the moisture increasing with each movement. Then they moved together in a stronger rhythm.