by Lari Smythe
Chapter 14
I spent the rest of the night at the pool, just basking in the moment—our moment. The underbrush was gone now. The trickling waterfall just moisture on the rock face, but the still water that reflected the perfect fall, sky was beautiful. I'd been there for maybe two hours when I heard someone approach.
"I thought I heard you," Melanie said as she appeared through the trees. "Mind if I join you?"
"Of course not."
She eased down in the water next to me. "Cleansing your senses? How's that going?"
"No, I'm completely able to manage."
"I hear you told Elizabeth about him."
"She surprised me. I expected her to be angry."
"She's not the monster you think she is."
We both laughed at the irony. Melanie ducked under the surface and came up spraying water over me. I splashed water in her face.
"I'll tell you who surprised me, Benjamin."
"He didn't like it. I'm not surprised, you're his baby."
"Seriously?"
"Oh yes, there is no denying it. You're the child he and Elizabeth wish they could have had."
Okay, that was uncomfortable, but explained a few things. "I met Jason's mother."
"Really, I bet that was awkward."
"No, she's really nice—well except I got the impression she doesn't think I'm right for him."
"That surprises you?"
"Mind if I ask why you're so accepting? Last time we talked you warned me about what would happen."
She thought for a moment. "Well, I haven't changed my mind, but—"
"It's a welcomed distraction, right?"
"Distraction? From what?"
"Oh never mind." Maybe Elizabeth hadn't told her to accept this. In my present state of—well, bliss—I plowed head long into the kiss.
"He kissed you?"
"No, we kissed. There's a difference."
"I still think this is incredibly dangerous. Oh sure, it's all hugs and kisses now, but if your emotions get out of hand, well, that's the danger."
The rest of our time I spent explaining how I could resist feeding on him—Melanie wasn't convinced. I avoided the oppressive feeling of doom she'd left—that was for me to deal with. Before I knew it, the sky started to lighten. We said our goodbyes, and she made me promise to keep her updated. Then I was off. I glanced back before leaving, not expecting to see the pool again. I didn't need it anymore. The run home was exhilarating, faster than I expected so I was left with plenty of time to dress for school. I thought about wearing something other than black—I still had a few things from before the whole Emo thing—but decided to wait until Cathy and I went shopping. Melanie's little frolic in the pool had left my hair a frizzy mess, but there was no point dwelling on it. It wasn't like there was anything I could do about it anyway. I finally settled on a tight-fitting dress and set it aside so I could paint the appropriate exposed skin. Once the paint was dry, I slipped into the soft knit fabric. I adjusted the front zipper so it was just below my collarbone and put on a large silver pendant. I was definitely over dressed, but I didn't care. I was about to subject Jason to his longest day of school ever.
Cathy was all giggles since we'd both miraculously chosen to wear dresses. We both even went light on the black lipstick. We got a couple of looks, even one whistle, but no Jason. After first period, I saw his Jeep in the parking lot, so at least I knew he was there. I swear the cafeteria went silent when Cathy and I walked in. Jason was sitting against the far wall with his friend Alex from the football team. I saw his face light up before he hid it behind his lunch bag. Cathy and I had a marvelous time discretely watching the other girls evaluate us. They were totally confused.
I beat Jason to History, and it was funny watching him try to nonchalantly stroll down the aisle to his seat. I don't think he took his eyes off my legs the whole way and caused quite a commotion when his books missed the desk. Even Coach Singleton's brow rose when I strolled into Software Apps. He was all smiles.
Now came the longest part of the day for me, waiting until practice was over. I lingered outside the school, not really wanting to leave. When the boys came out of the school, it was Alex who whistled. Derrick was surrounded by his crew at the tail end of the procession. I wanted to leave—I'd promised Jason—but I couldn't, so I wandered over near the fence trying to keep out of sight. Hidden in the shadows of the bleachers, no one seemed to notice I was there.
After the boys warmed up, Coach Singleton gathered them around him. "Take a knee." They all dropped down on one knee and removed their helmets. "We're going to try this again, but I don't want a repeat of what I saw yesterday. Now, I know this hasn't been the kind of season you expected—we've had some injuries—but we've got a bye this week; and with a little hard work, I think we still have a chance to win the next game. It won't be easy, but if you pull together as a team, we can do this." No one responded, which seemed odd. "Okay, we're going to work a new spread offense, a West Coast offense. Jason, I want to see you at QB. Let's get at it!" Coach Singleton ordered with a clap of his hands.
Coach worked with Jason and the offense for about half an hour while the defense worked with the assistant coaches. I was thinking about leaving, when Coach pulled them together to do simulated game situations, light contact. As they got ready to line up, I noticed Matt, Joe, Andy and some of the other boys gathered loosely around Derrick. It was subtle, but I was certain he was telling them what to do—or more precisely, what not to do.
Coach set up the offense and stood behind them as Jason called the signals. Jason rolled in my direction and when the defensive player moved toward him, Jason threw a perfect spiral to Joe—it went right though his hands.
"Again!" Coach ordered.
The next play Jason rolled the other way and as the defense closed on him, he tossed the ball back to Matt. He dropped the ball, and I cringed as the defense piled on Jason.
"I said light contact, you idiots!" Coach yelled as he yanked players off the pile.
Jason got up unscathed, but looked dejected. Matt made a discrete motion toward the sidelines and Derrick clenched his fist victoriously. This must be what had happened yesterday.
"Line up, I've had enough," Coach ordered.
I thought Derrick, Matt, Joe and Andy were going to break into a victory dance.
"Take a lap."
The boys jogged off and Coach turned to Derrick. "Drop and give me twenty."
"What?" Derrick stuck out his cast.
"Nothin' wrong with your arms, you heard me." Coach paced anxiously waiting for the boys to return. "Okay," he began when they finished their lap, "this is the way this is going to go. Every time the ball hits the ground the entire team is going to take a lap. Let's try this again."
Jason's first pass was to Alex—he caught it, but Andy hit him hard—still he hung on. Coach sent Andy on a lap. Joe dropped the next one, and they did a lap, then Matt and another lap. Jason kept the ball the fourth time and skirted around the end for a nice gain. They went again, another dropped pass—Coach threw his hat on the ground and they did another lap.
"Huddle up!" Coach demanded as the gasping boys straggled in around him. "This is the most pathetic show of effort I have ever seen. You look like a bunch of cheerleaders out there with your prissy little social agendas—ya bunch of morons. I have half a notion—I swear a girl could do better—" He threw his hat on the ground again and kicked it.
I'm not really sure what came over me—the gate in front of me just seemed to open and I was marching toward the field. Coach Singleton looked up with a shocked expression as I closed on the group.
"Now, now, Izzy," Coach Singleton said as I approached. "It was just an expression." He held up his hands to stop me. Behind him, the boys were laughing. "What?" He spun around. "You see something funny? Not one of you has showed that kind of spunk. Why I have half a notion to..."
"Where do you want me?"
"Izzy," he pleaded, " you're in a dress—"
As if that mattered in his eyes, I was a girl, the weaker sex.
"Fine." I marched over to Jason's bag and pulled out a pair of mesh shorts and slid them on over my dress. The waist was too big, so I tied the waistband on the side. "Better?"
"Izzy, Izzy, Izzy," Coach said as he wandered over to me. "I shouldn't even be considering this—"
I stepped closer to Coach and whispered. "They're not going to hurt me." He didn't look convinced. "How will it look if a girl catches a pass? What will their friends say when they hear I could and they couldn't—and their friends will hear. Could you make a better point? Could you make it any faster?"
"Okay, okay, I see where you're going." He wiped his sweaty face. "I can't believe I'm even considering this."
"You won't be sorry." I knew I wouldn't.
"Okay boys, this is the way this is going to go. No one touches Izzy or you'll be doing laps for the rest of the season, got it!"
"Yes sir!" The boys shouted.
"We're going to do one offensive possession from the thirty-five yard line. Matt, Joe."
"Yes sir." Their response was sheepish.
"Since you don't seem to be able to catch, you're on defense, and remember what I said, Izzy's off limits."
We separated to go to our sides of the ball, and Jason eased up next to me.
"What are you doing?" He whispered. "You're going to make a total fool out of me."
"I'm just going to kick a little crutch." I smiled up at him and rolled my eyes toward Derrick.
"Okay," the coach commanded, "Izzy, you line up on the far right, run five yards and turn around, a buttonhook. The rest of you, run the offense."
Jason called out a bunch of numbers, and then we lined up. Matt was covering me. Jason stepped up under center and barked out a few grunts and the center snapped the ball. I ran straight at Matt, and then turned. Jason had thrown the ball to the other side, Alex was hit as soon as he touched it. He couldn't hold on.
The next play, I ran five yards and turned toward the sideline, but they ran the ball the other way again. It was third down and we had to get six more for a first down. We huddled up.
"You look pretty fast," Coach Singleton said to me, "can you run a fly?" He turned to Jason. "What do you think?"
"Yeah, she looks pretty fast, for a girl."
"For a girl?" I complained.
"Okay," Coach Singleton cut us off. "Izzy, you fake to the middle and go down the sideline. Let's do it."
As we broke the huddle, I stepped behind Jason, "When I reach the fifteen, throw the ball to the goal post."
"You kidding?"
I winked. "Trust me."
"Sure, why not?"
I started toward the right.
"Izzy," Coach called, "you're on the left."
"Right." I shrugged.
I ran over to the other side, across from Andy this time.
We lined up, Jason grunted the snap count and I was off. I kept Andy in front of me as I faked inside, then bolted past him toward the sideline. He stayed right on my heels. As I closed on the fifteen yard line, I looked back at Jason and pointed toward the goal post. He looked apprehensive, unsure, but threw a tight spiral down the middle of the field.
Andy hadn't seen the pass and I continued to lead him away from the ball until the last possible second. He groaned as I broke on the ball. I ran, right on the edge of human ability, timing my approach so I had to make a slight jump for effect and caught the ball one handed. My team cheered, but I heard Derrick on the sidelines.
"Jeez, a freakin' girl," he groaned.
I was celebrating, holding the ball over my head victoriously as my teammates jogged down the field to join me when I suddenly saw Andy closing on me from my right. For me, it played in slow motion—human speed—but I couldn't move. I just couldn't fathom Andy's loyalty to Derrick over the team. There was a combined groan of warning from the team as they realized what was about to happen. Coach was screaming his name as Andy slammed into me, his face registering the shock of hitting a stone wall. I heard the snap as I pushed back and we careened off the goal post. Andy fell to the ground at my feet with a gasp. Everyone was running toward us.
I knelt down next to him. "Why?"
He couldn't answer, he was gasping for air, but he'd done more than knock the wind out of himself, he'd broken his collarbone. He started coughing and crying.
"Are you okay?" Coach Singleton gasped, running up beside me.
"I'm fine, but I think Andy broke his collarbone."
Coach Singleton knelt down next to me and gently grabbed Andy around the torso to roll him over on his back. Andy groaned in agony. Coach looked over at me. "And maybe a couple of ribs."
The rest of the team got there and started pressing forward to get a closer look. I couldn't find Jason, but finally his hands gently touched my shoulders.
"Alex, get the trainer." Coach Singleton ordered. "She should be with girl's soccer. If not, check her office. Tell her I think we need an ambulance. All right stand back, give him some air."
"You sure you're okay?" Jason whispered.
"I'm fine, honest."
The Coach looked up, concern creased his brow. "I knew this was a bad idea." He shook his head. "How Izzy? It looked like he drove you right into the goal post."
"I saw him at the last minute, and fell back, the goal post took the entire blow."
Coach Singleton just shook his head. "You're one lucky girl, and I'm an idiot."
Jason squeezed my shoulders and coaxed me to my feet. We eased back as the trainer arrived. The collarbone was obvious, although it hadn't broken the skin—thank goodness. She felt around on Andy's sides and confirmed the coach's diagnosis. The ambulance was already on its way—so was Andy's mother.
"So," Jason whispered, "you stepped out of the way at the last minute. Is that your story?"
I turned to face him—confused—it sounded like an accusation. "What do you think happened?"
"I don't really know." He pointed toward the goal post. "See that pad, the one wrapped around the pole, that's there to keep us from getting hurt." He shrugged. "Just sayin'."
"We did it." I changed the subject. "I caught the pass and now those boys won't dare miss another one."
Jason looked dejected. "Yeah, saved by a girl."
"Seriously? I was just trying to help. I didn't realize your male ego was so fragile."
Jason didn't reply.
I ripped off the shorts I'd borrowed and threw them in his face. "Well, I guess I should go." I was halfway to the gate before he called.
"Meet you at the soccer field?"
I kept going. I was getting in my car when the ambulance pulled into the parking lot. I pointed them toward the field, but slammed the door and paced next to my car instead. Why was he mad at me? No matter what I did, it was always wrong. I was still pacing when the ambulance left. I glanced back at the field. Coach Singleton had the boys gathered around and was giving them a stern, animated lecture. According to him, there were a lot of dumb guys in school and most of them were on the football team. While the team did five laps, I walked up to the park to meet Jason—if he was even coming.
I was beginning to think he wasn't when I spotted him through the pines—my jaw dropped. Besides his usual, stunning beauty, he was wearing one of those tight long-sleeved under-shirts that left nothing to the imagination. It was white and he looked like a sculpted god. The torment I once referred to as butterflies was more pronounced than ever—I squirmed. He saw me and raised his hand, but continued his excruciatingly slow pace. I ran down to meet him.
"What's wrong?" I asked. "You're not still sulking are you?"
"It's kind of hard to explain."
"Try me."
"Well, I feel kind of sorry for Andy. He's a senior and there was a scout coming to see him at next week's game—it was his last shot."
"What's wrong with feeling sorry for him? That's a shame."
Jason looked up surprised, as though he couldn't believe his e
ars.
"What?" I shrugged.
"If he hadn't gotten hurt, I would have killed him." Jason grit his teeth.
"Why?"
"Are you kidding me? He tried to kill you. I saw what he was going to do, but I was too far away. I never felt so helpless. I would have killed him if he hurt you, especially on my account."
"You were worried about me?"
"Ah, you still don't get how I feel about you. Worried, that reminds me. You need to go down and see Coach. He's worried sick about you. I tried to tell him you were okay, but he kept saying you ran off because you were hurt and didn't want anyone to know."
"Do I have to?"
"Yeah, Izzy, he's one of the good guys."
"I know."
"Come on, I'll walk you back." He took my hand and we headed for the school. As we approached Jason's Jeep, his face lit up.
"What?" I asked.
"Look at us." He nodded toward the rearview mirror. "Sweeeet!"
In the reflection, I was walking next to this Greek god, and my tight knit dress had ridden up entirely too far. I tugged at the hem. "You'll wait?"
"You kidding? Where am I going to go?"
I dropped his hand and walked slowly toward the back of the school. It was early and the other teams were still out practicing. I hesitated at the door, not really wanting to face Coach; but I did for Jason. That's what he wanted.
I approached the coach's office slowly. "Coach?" I ventured.
"Izzy!" He jumped up from behind his desk and raced around to the door. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine, Coach."
"Jesus, girl, you had me worried sick." He ushered me into his office and offered me a seat. "Do you know Mel, our trainer?" He motioned to the young woman I'd seen earlier. "Maybe she should check you over."
That couldn't happen. "Mel, like in Melanie?" I asked.
"Yes," she replied, a note of surprise in her voice.
"I have an older sister named Melanie."
"It's not that common of a name these days. I hope I can meet her one day. If you're sure you're okay I should get back to my office and take care of Andy's paperwork."
"Sure, go ahead, I'm fine."
"Okay then. If you change your mind, I'm just down the hall." She got up and walked to the door. "Don't worry Coach, everything will work out." She closed the door behind her.
Coach Singleton sighed.
"What's wrong?" I questioned.
"Probably lose my job over this one and I should. Can't believe I let a girl into practice with a bunch of adolescent idiots. Just look what happened, Andy's all busted up," he raised his voice, "and it coulda' been worse. That coulda' been you in the ambulance."
"But I'm fine."
"Still, when this gets around, it'll be my head."
"How's it going to get around? The way I see it, I'm not going to say anything. Jason's not going to be going around boasting he threw a pass to a girl, and do you think any of those boys are going to admit a girl out did them? I don't think so."
Coach Singleton leaned back in his chair with a big grin. "You got this all figured out, don't you." He shook his head. "You really are something. Can't say I've ever seen a guy catch a pass like that—oh maybe on Sunday, but in high school—you came out of nowhere, and hands? My, oh my. Wish I could put you on the team."
"It'll be our secret Coach Singleton."
He chuckled. "That it will, and it's Coach remember? That's what my players call me."
"Cool, Coach, thanks." I opened the door.
"Mind if I ask you a question?"
I quickly went over my story. "Sure, ask away."
"Probably none of my business, but you and Jason are an item, right?"
"An item?"
"Oh I don't know what you kids call it these days, going steady, dating, whatever."
"Yeah, but we're kind of keeping it on the QT."
"Well, he better not let you go. You two make quite a team." He nodded, and pulled himself up to his desk. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"Sure. And Coach, thanks."
"Run along then, catch up with your fella."
I didn't waste any time getting back to the Jeep. Jason was drawing. He had his sketchpad propped up between the steering wheel and his knee. He was so engrossed in what he was doing, he didn't hear me coming.
"Hi." I said, climbing into the passenger's seat. "What ya drawing?"
"Coach okay?"
"Coach? What about me?" I pouted, playfully.
"I figure you can take pretty good care of yourself." He didn't look up from his drawing.
Seriously, his male pride was still bruised. I hopped out of the Jeep.
"It's the mountains where I used to live," he mumbled.
"Mountains?" I groaned, totally confused. "What are you talking about?"
Jason turned the sketch book toward me.
His drawing had a subtle similarity to the mountains I'd been remembering. "You lived there, where's there?" I slid back in the Jeep, pulling my leg up like I always did, forgetting I was wearing a dress.
"Washington, why?"
"It's kind of familiar, but the perspective's wrong. Where exactly did you live?"
"We lived in Port Angeles."
"Where is that in relationship to the mountains? You know, east, west, like that."
"It's basically due north of the Olympic Mountains, on the coast. Why the interest?"
Jason's question was simple enough. I could have just said I visited there once, but the images of mountains had been haunting me and I wanted to confide in someone—well, not just someone, Jason.
"Remember I said I don't know where I came from? Well, I've been having these dreams, more like flashes really—of mountains—those mountains."
Jason looked down at his drawing. "You know, I used to play with this older girl while our mothers shopped—hide and seek in the clothes racks. I guess, I was maybe seven. She had to be something like twelve. I had a crush on her, like nobody else." He stared at me, taking in every detail, it was disconcerting. He laughed it off. "Na, she'd have to be what, twenty-one, twenty-two?"
"What was her name?"
"I can't remember, funny how that works. Sometimes you remember one thing, but not another."
"Tell me about it," I said sarcastically.
"So what's different—compared to your visions."
'Visions' made me sound lame, but I motioned toward the tallest peak. "I think this should be rotated clockwise."
"Okay." Jason propped the sketchbook up against the steering wheel again and started drawing.
I scooted closer to watch. We went through several variations, but nothing seemed right. I finally made a rough outline at the bottom. His face brightened like he knew where I meant and drew the picture again, this time, the details fit my outline.
"Well," he said, "what do you think?"
"That's it, those are my mountains."
"What's it mean, Izzy?" Jason's voice was sincere, concerned.
"I don't know. You seem to recognize the view, where is it from?"
"Well, if you're sure this is right, then it's from the far, west side of the Olympic Peninsula. There's not much over that way, mostly the State Forest and Indian Reservations."
I shook my head with disappointment. If there was one thing I was sure of, I was not Native American. "Maybe it's nothing, maybe I just visited there or something."
It was getting dark out and I regretted letting my quest for vengeance interfere with my Jason time. "You're drawing is beautiful. You must be very familiar with the Olympic Mountains to be able to change the perspective like that."
"Yeah, like I said, we lived there for awhile. I think I was the happiest there. My dad took me hiking and hunting. We rode dirt bikes and four-wheelers, camping, fishing—it was great."
"You like the outdoors."
"Yeah, I like being out." He tore the page out of his sketchbook. "You can have it, if you want."
"You didn't sign it."
"Yeah, thanks."
I glanced up from the picture into his deep chocolate eyes—he was staring back. Maybe it was because I was wearing a dress, but there was an intense longing in his eyes. His tight white tee shirt had me feeling the same. I was doing okay, only a tiny spark in the back of my throat, when his hand touched my knee. His muscles, in all their sculpted perfection, tensed with apprehension. At that instant, a breeze blew in from behind him. I lost control, jolted back, and fell out of the Jeep onto the parking lot.
"Izzy!" Jason yelled, vaulting across the seat to try and grab me.
I glanced up into his frantic eyes and ran—it was a miracle.
