They stumbled back up the aisle, the team in a body. That was the coach’s idea; in assemblies and the cafeteria he had them all sit together as much as possible. So down the corridor to his homeroom through a welcoming chorus of shouts and yells. It was the same thing in every class. The game! The game against Miami. That was on everyone’s mind. No one expected him to be prepared and even Mrs. Taylor looked at him with an understanding gaze.
“No use asking you to translate for us today, I presume, Ronald.” He observed that she failed to pick up her little black book as usual, but went right on to the next pupil.
Then after the Latin class it hit him. It hit him and made him reel, as if he had actually been slapped in the face. That was just the way it felt, too. A couple of kids walking behind him in the corridor did it.
“Yeah, but who’ll he play in left end?”
“Guess he’ll use Stacey’s sub, most prob’ly.”
Left end! Let’s see; why that’s Ned’s position. Ned LeRoy.
The horrible thought came to him for the first time. Of course. He stood for a minute collecting himself. No, it couldn’t be true. They wouldn’t do such a thing. Down the corridor came Ned walking slowly, half-smiling as the kids shouted at him. Underneath he was the same quiet, decent boy, waiting as usual to speak until you spoke first.
“Ned! C’m over here.” Ned was startled as Ronny hauled him to one side by the lockers. He took him by one shoulder. “Ned! Tell me, tell me straight. You coming down with us, aren’t you? I mean, you’re playing Intersectional, aren’t you?” His heart fell as he watched the big brown eyes look up. There was no change of expression on that passive countenance.
“Nope, Ronald. Guess not.”
“Why? Why not? What d’you mean?”
“They don’t like to let colored boys play down there, that’s all.” Then nothing. He said nothing. Ronald couldn’t think what to say. Suddenly Ned added, “I sure hope they broadcast that game.”
It was this, his simple acceptance of the situation, that made the most impression, that hurt Ronny most of all.
The next period was a study period, and with the excuse that a lame wrist needed taping Ronald went across the hall into the office of the coach near the gym and the lockers. He was sitting at his desk completely surrounded by an ocean of letters and papers.
“Well, Ronald! How you feel this morning? How’s that wrist? No bad effects, are there? Sore? Here, let me have a look at it a minute.”
“Nosir; no, Coach. I didn’t come for that. I came to ask is it true that Ned LeRoy can’t play Intersectional?”
The silence seemed to last and last. The coach was looking at him queerly, saying nothing. He nodded. “That’s correct, Ronald.”
“But, Coach! You know we couldn’t have won that game without Ned, you know that, everyone knows that: unless he plays, our forward passing attack is all shot. They can lay for Stacey; they know his sub on the other side is useless catching passes; he’s always late.” The words poured out fast and faster.
The coach, that hard-bitten gentleman, leaned over and patted him on the shoulder. Ronald recoiled. He had not come for sympathy. He had come for an explanation, for the righting of a wrong. It was a long while coming.
“Take it easy, boy, take it easy. I know all about it. But the fact is they don’t permit colored boys to play down there.”
“Aw, gee, Coach, we can’t play without Ned. Why he won that game for us! Coach, we can’t go down there without him.”
The coach stood up. “Take it easy, Ronald. This is just one of those things. There isn’t anything you or I can do about it. We have to accept the situation. That’s life. You see, you can’t change human nature. I realize of course that it’s tough for Ned; well, sure, it’s tough for you, tough for a fine captain like Jim to have to play without one of his reliable men, tough for the whole team. But we can’t do anything, so we better just forget it.”
Ronald went back bewildered to the class. Maybe Mr. Kates could help. Of all the teachers in Abraham Lincoln High Mr. Kates was the most sensible, the fairest in his marking. So instead of going up to the cafeteria in his lunch period, Ronald stayed down and caught him coming out of the faculty room on the ground floor.
“Mr. Kates, can I speak to you for a minute? See, it’s about Ned LeRoy; maybe you heard, Mr. Kates. Yeah. Uhuh. That’s right. Ned can’t go down, he can’t play Intersectional against Miami. It doesn’t somehow seem fair to me.”
“Fair!” The little man looked at him. There was fire in his voice which was encouraging. “Fair! Naturally not. Who said anything about fairness?”
“Well then, if it isn’t fair, there must be something we can do about it.”
“What makes you think so?” This wasn’t quite so encouraging.
“Mebbe we could... mebbe we could insist on playing him. They’d have to let us if we insisted. If we just brought him along.”
“H’m. Yes. But would that be pleasant for LeRoy, Ronald?”
“Why, no, I guess it wouldn’t. I really hadn’t thought of that. But there oughta be something we could do just the same. I wonder isn’t there something?”
Yet not even Mr. Kates was much help in this problem. Nor his dad. That evening he was explaining it all to Sandra.
“Now take Dad; he listens and sucks on his pipe and says he understands and all that; he says, sure, it’s hard; but what you gonna do about it? They all say the same thing.”
“But, Ronny, what could you do?”
“Darned if I know. Only it’s so unjust, it’s so unfair. Here’s Ned, played three years on the team, won goodness knows how many games for the school, and Saturday, well, you saw him out there Saturday. This hurts, Sandra, you understand? I can’t exactly explain, but it hurts.”
“I know. I understand, Ronny.”
“So they reward him by keeping him home. That’s his reward. Three years our regular end and about the hottest thing we got in cleats... and he’s my friend, too, Sandra. You know how you feel when a friend you’ve been through something important with gets a raw deal.”
“It’s rotten. What about Mr. Quinn?”
“Onions to him. That’s the worst of it, none of the older people seem to mind. They say, sure, it’s tough; ok, but what are you going to do about it? They’re sorry for him and that’s all. The coach is sorry to lose a reliable end and go down there with a sub; but he isn’t terribly upset, seems like. He takes it quietly. You know the stuff the older people peddle. Same old line. They tell you how you can’t change human nature, so go away and forget all about it.”
“It’s sick-making. That’s what.”
“Sure is. He’s a member of the team or else he isn’t. He’s good enough to play against Broadwood and Hillsborough and the Academy and the rest; why isn’t he good enough to play against Miami? I don’t get it. Y’know, Sandra, here’s an idea. I got an idea. I b’lieve if two or three of us made a row, we might do something. Like if Meyer and Jim and me...”
“Have you talked to them?”
“Not yet. I only heard about it this noon.”
“Why don’t you talk to them? I bet they’ll feel the same way, they’ll think it’s rotten, too.”
“By gosh, I’ll try. We might organize the school if only we could get the kids started. Is there anyone else we could get in on this to help?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“Me.”
“You?”
“Yes, me. I feel it’s terrible, the whole thing, just as you do.”
“Thanks lots, Sandra. That’s pretty swell. But there isn’t much a girl can do.”
“So you think. Ronald, you don’t know this school very well. It isn’t like the Academy. Down here the girls help run things and they’re important. Also, they’re my friends. Like Jessie Stokes, she’s the editor of the Mercury, and Helen and Lorena, the head cheerleaders. I’ll get right after them. Then there are others that are important, and I know ’em all. Meanwhile
you get together with Meyer and Jim...”
Actually Meyer and Jim were waiting for him as he parked his bike before the school the next morning. They looked worried. Their first words showed they were all worried about the same thing.
“We called you up last night. Have you heard about Ned LeRoy?”
“Yeah. I heard yesterday. It’s rotten, isn’t it? What we gonna do?”
“We oughta do something.”
“We oughta get up a petition.”
“We oughta see Mr. Curry and...”
“We oughta call a meeting of the Student Council...”
“No, here’s what we oughta do, we oughta...”
“Look here, first off, couldn’t we have a talk with the coach?”
“Nuts to that. I spoke to him yesterday.”
“Wha’d he say?”
“Same old line. Can’t do anything...”
Inside the first bell rang and the sound came faintly to their ears.
“Look, we’ve got to move quick. Let’s us three have a meeting first of all. We’ll get together at lunch instead of going upstairs.”
“OK with me.”
“I’ll be there.”
“All right. Outside the room when the second lunch bell rings...”
II
“Attention, please!” As the voice of the principal came over the loudspeaker above Mr. Kates’ head, the teacher ceased talking. The dullish tones continued. “There will be a meeting of the football squad directly after school. That is all.”
Once school was dismissed for the day, a feeling of a thunderstorm hung in the air. Classrooms and corridors buzzed and hummed, the building quivered with excitement. Not merely the excitement of the projected journey; but the excitement of clash and conflict. In a day and a half a sharp division in the student body had become apparent. On one side were the majority who were in favor of the trip; who were on the squad, the band, or the drill team, besides those who wanted to go even if they couldn’t. On the other side was the small knot against it, led by Ronny and Meyer and Jim. In the halls and on the stairs and by opened lockers groups of intense boys and girls surrounded every supporter of canceling the Miami trip.
On his way to the locker room, Ronald found the coach waiting at his door. He called him in and shut it, making Ronald feel almost like a prisoner at the bar.
“Ronald! What’s all this nonsense about? First I heard was last night—yesterday afternoon. Seems a few of you boys are trying hard to upset our game with Miami.”
Ronald squirmed. That must be the way it looked to an outsider. “Well, Coach, a few of us are pretty upset about Ned LeRoy: Meyer and Jim and me.”
“But I thought I explained all that to you day before yesterday. You’re up against life now. In life there are certain situations which we all have to accept.”
“Uhuh. Yessir. We’re planning to talk it over this afternoon. That’s the reason Jim called the squad together.”
“There’s nothing to talk over. We can’t back out of this game now. You must realize we’d be letting the Miami team down if we failed to show up. Think of it; the game has been officially scheduled for over a week, they’ve sold something like ten thousand tickets, printed programs, and spent hundreds of dollars getting ready for us. What is there to talk over?”
Ronny was silent. This he had never fully considered, neither had Meyer nor Jim. But then, all Miami had to do was let LeRoy compete. Besides, he felt in a strong position. This was his last year of football, his final game. No penalties could be swung against him if he refused to play.
“Now see here, Ronald, I want you to go in there and explain things to the rest of the boys. You have a great influence with the team, coming the way you do from the outside, and then you’re older than most of them. They’ll take a lot from you, they’ll follow your lead.”
I only hope they will, he thought. “Afraid I can’t do that, Coach.”
“Why not?”
“’Cause I think we oughtn’t to go to Miami without Ned.”
“You mean to say you’d... you mean to stand there and look me in the face and tell me you’d wreck... you’d ruin our chances against Miami... now look here, get one thing clear. What you propose doing is insubordination. Insubordination to school discipline. We’re going down to play Miami. If you don’t care to go along, that’s your affair. I’ll slap Jack Train in your place. We don’t need you, we don’t need to win, we’ve never needed victory so much we had to go back on our principles in this school. Just fix that in your mind.”
He was angry. Recalling his talk on the opening day of practice, and having sat on the bench beside him through several games, Ronald realized how little truth there was in his remarks. He let him bluster on but refused to promise a thing. Yet he didn’t like the position; insubordination was an ugly word.
The coach raved and stormed and threatened but gradually saw he was getting nowhere. Before long Ronny was in the locker room, the gang ready and awaiting his arrival. There they were, Jim and Mike and Don and Vic and Bob and Meyer, subs and all. Many still bore tangible evidence of Saturday’s battle. Jim was hobbling round with a cane. Meyer had a taped gash above his eye where he had been cut. Dave’s leg was stuck out stiff and straight from the bench on which he sat. Mike had his right arm in a sling, and several others bore patches of plaster across their cheeks. Everyone was there save LeRoy.
“Hi, Ronny. We’re waiting for you,” said Jim. “Now let’s see, men, how’ll we go about this? Suppose first of all you tell the gang how you feel, Ronald.”
He stood up beside Jim before the two rows of benches. “Well, gee, fellows, it’s something like this. You all know the facts just as well as I do. We’ve been invited to play Intersectional against Miami High. They don’t allow colored boys to compete on their teams, so Coach intends we should leave Ned home. I think it’s a dirty trick, especially on a player like Ned.”
He stopped and nobody spoke. Everyone in the room felt the coming crisis but no one felt like bringing it to the front. The silence became embarrassing. One sub blurted out, “Aw, so what? What can we do?”
They all looked at Ronald who looked back at them; at Mike and Dave who’d made the holes for him all fall, at Don who’d faced and outplayed the best center the Academy had ever had, at all that crowd who’d taken a beating so he could help score the winning touchdown in the game. Good kids, most of them. Yet disturbed more by the possible sacrifice of the trip than by an injustice done to a team member.
“Look, you guys. How would you feel? Suppose you’d been on the team three years and given all you’ve got. You’ve won the game against the Academy after we were licked and beaten. Then they tell you that you can’t play Intersectional. Is that right? Is that a decent thing?”
“You can’t very well change human nature, Ronny,” piped a voice from the back bench.
He was disgusted. “Aw, you heard your old man say that last night.”
“Did not.”
“Did so.”
“Look, I think we oughta...”
“Seems to me if we could...”
“Gosh, kids, can’t you see, don’t you understand?” He looked round at some of their faces, obstinate, mulish, mouths set, many of them frowning already at the thought of giving up the Miami trip. Why, some of these kids are as bad as the older folks, he thought. As bad as the kids at the Academy.
“It’s tough on Ned, but what can we do?”
“Sure, what can we do?”
It angered him. “I’ll tell you. Here’s what we can do. We can all refuse to go to Miami.”
The thunder rumbled. There was lightning in the air. A flash. Another flash. Silence before the storm. Then it burst. Everybody was talking at once, all together; soon they were yelling, shouting. Their indifference had vanished. The storm had swept over them and drenched everybody.
Ronald watched. He knew the ones who were anxious to go like Mike and Jake Smith and one or two subs, the ones who were more or less u
ncertain like Vic and Bob, and the two staunch ones who would stand beside him. They’d stand together, the three of them—Ronny and Meyer and Jim.
Right then Jim came to his rescue. He rose. “As captain of the team, I’d like to offer a suggestion.”
“Hey, you guys, shut up, listen...”
“Keep quiet, fellas...”
“Listen a minute, will ya?”
“It’s just this. We all know now a lot’s involved in this in many ways. I think the fair thing for us to do would be go home and think about it carefully overnight, and then come back and hold a meeting tomorrow after school to vote on this question. Isn’t that the best way?”
Good for Jim. He could see that Jim feared bringing it to a vote at that moment, that he hoped some could be persuaded to vote with them by the next afternoon. Mentally he checked over the members of the team and the subs of whom the two chosen were also eligible to vote. It looked bad. It sure looked bad. The kids just didn’t want to give up the trip for a principle. For nothing; that’s what it seemed like to most of them.
They went down the deserted corridors, still arguing among themselves, when there was a flutter of feet on stone and a feminine voice behind them. “Perry!” It was Miss Robbins from the principal’s office. “Mr. Curry would like to see you a minute, and Stacey and Goldman, too, please.” They turned, went back down the hall, and as they passed through the outer office Ronny recognized Jack Malone, sports editor of the Courier, sitting on one of the benches reading a magazine. This was really getting hot.
Within was a solemn group. As he was introduced, Ronald remembered one man, a friend of his dad’s. It was Mr. Swift, the president of the Trust Company whom he had not seen since that day at the station. The other man he knew by name, everyone in town knew his name. Henry J. Latham was the head of the pump factory, and he had often heard him mentioned by his father. People in town spoke of Mr. Latham in tones of gratitude, dislike, affection, and dismay. He was president of the Chamber of Commerce, active in business, and the political boss of the city.
They got away to a rapid start. Mr. Curry spoke first. “Ronald, these gentlemen are somewhat upset about our plans for the coming trip to Miami. You’ve been on the team, and you’ve been prominent in the whole thing; suppose you tell them your story.”
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