“Starting for the Huntsville Hornets, at setter, Senior Dana Beckley,” the announcer said. As soon as her name was called, Dana slapped hands with each of her teammates, then sprinted across the court and ran along the front row with her right hand out. All six of seniors slapped hands with her and yelled and clapped as she made her way to the back line.
“Also at setter, Senior Dara Beckley.” Dara did the same as her sister as the crowd cheered loudly.
“At outside hitter, Senior Robin Banner,” the announcer said, pausing a moment before adding, “In the middle, Senior Heather Meigs.”
The crowd cheered loudly with each name called, stomping their feet on the bleachers and shaking milk jugs filled with coins and painted in yellow and blue.
“At libero, Senior Jenna Poulson.”
Jenna made her sweep along the front line as well and after she cleared Goldie asked, “Clay, what the hell’s a libero?”
“It’s a position, essentially it means she can’t spike.”
“Well that sucks. Why the hell not?”
“Kind of like linemen can’t catch passes in football,” Clay said. “Just one of those rules. How the hell did you make it through this many games and not know that?”
“Just never noticed before, I guess,” Goldie responded.
“And at outside hitter, Senior Captain Natalie Pritchard,” the announcer said. An extra loud cheer went up from the crowd as Natalie jogged over to the other side.
Instead of running by with her hand stuck out she walked down the length of the lines, giving fist pounds to each of the guys. When she got to Clay, they slapped hands palm-to-palm and brought their shoulders together, then slapped each other on the back in an abbreviated hug.
“Give ‘em hell,” Clay whispered.
They released the hug and finished the three part handshake as the right side of Natalie’s mouth turned up in a smile and she nodded twice.
“Huntsville has won the coin toss and will be serving first,” the announcer called as the starting lineups for both teams moved into position.
Clay worked his way down the front row slapping high-fives with each of the players, ending with a high-five and a kiss for Chelsie.
In unison the entire student section called “Oooh” as Jenna lined up her first serve and started the game.
Chapter Seventeen
The fireplace in the living room was crackling loudly, throwing a wide arc of light and warmth into the room. Clay had stripped down to just a pair of gym shorts and a t-shirt, but couldn’t bring himself to move away from the end of the couch closest to the fire.
Usually his mother commandeered that seat in late October and didn’t give it up until sometime in April. She had a chill that always seemed to run to her bone and hands that were just a degree or two above an icebox.
Beth Anne turned in around nine and left Clay alone in the living room. As soon as she was gone he grabbed the remote and the warm spot and had been sitting there for a half an hour when his father made it home.
Clay had his legs stretched out and resting on the coffee table and his arm extended along the back of the couch as his father walked in and dropped himself unceremoniously into his recliner.
“What do you say, Pop?”
“Damn it’s hot in here. Why does your mother insist on keeping that fire cranked up so high?”
Clay smiled. “It’s a lot better now than it was. You should’ve been in here before she went to bed.”
“She already turned in?”
“Yeah, wasn’t feeling well. Said to tell you your dinner’s in the oven.”
Without a word his father went into the kitchen and returned a moment later holding an overflowing plate of pork chops, sweet corn, mashed potatoes and biscuits. In his left hand was a large glass of sweet tea.
“What are we watching?”
“NCIS: Los Angeles,” Clay said.
“Los Angeles? When did they start doing that?”
“This is the sixth season now,” Clay said. He was surprised his father even knew what NCIS was.
“Any good?”
“It’s entertaining.”
“I’ve heard the regular one’s pretty decent. Your mom says you and Colt both like it pretty well.”
“Yeah, regular NCIS is good. This one isn’t as well done, but it’s got hotter women.”
His father pulled a chunk of pork away from the bone and said, “So it’s a tie?”
“Pretty much,” Clay said. They watched in silence for a few minutes, then Clay asked, “You get the Baker place done?”
“Naw,” his father said, shaking his head as he pulled apart a biscuit. “I was out of gas and had to come back any way, so I decided to call it a night. Another day, day and a half and we’ll have it.”
“Good,” Clay said, sliding his gaze back to the television.
“I was able to pick up some of the game tonight in the tractor,” his father said.
“Yeeeah,” Clay said, extended the word out slowly.
“How’s Miss Natalie doing?”
To everyone else in the family she was Nat or Natty, but to his father she was always Miss Natalie. He came from a very strict upbringing that believed women were to be treated with the utmost respect at all times, regardless of age.
“I don’t know,” Clay said. “They disappeared into the locker room after the game. I stuck around for a while afterwards, but she never emerged.”
His father paused for a moment and looked over at Clay. Clay continued to watch TV for a moment, turning his head as he felt his father’s eyes bearing down on him.
“What?”
His father said nothing, just raised his eyebrows a fraction of an inch and continued to stare. After a few moments, he returned his attention to his plate and continued eating.
Clay waited until LL Cool J and Chris O’Donnell caught the terrorist they were searching for, then rose to head upstairs. He dropped the remote on the arm of the chair his dad was in and said, “Don’t lock the door when you go to bed, alright Pop?”
“You got it,” his dad said and immediately began surfing through the channels in search of a western.
Clay ran upstairs and put on heavy fleece pants, a long sleeved t-shirt and a baggy hooded sweatshirt. He pulled a ski-cap down over his ears, tugged on a pair of gloves and grabbed his phone, then headed out.
Instead of climbing into his truck he grabbed his old bicycle from the garage and peddled the half mile over to the Pritchard place. Most of the lights were out as he approached, a single light above the front door and a small light upstairs the only signs of life.
Clay swung the bicycle down the Pritchard’s driveway and came to a stop in the same place he’d stopped nearly fifteen hours before. He pulled the cell phone from his pocket and sent a text message to Natalie.
Sure is a nice night. Reminds me of summertime.
He walked around the screened-in mud room to the front porch and sat down on the top of four wooden steps. Three full minutes passed until the sound of the front door wrenching itself open could be heard behind him.
A small smile creased his face and passed just as quickly. He knew she would get the reference, but didn’t want her to see him smiling or laughing right now.
“It took me a minute to decipher that one,” a small, tired voice said behind him.
Clay rose and slowly turned around as Natalie pulled the front door shut behind her and stepped out onto the front porch. A heavy wool blanket was wrapped tight around her with flannel pants and fuzzy slippers poking out the bottom.
“Where else have I spent most nice summer evenings than on these steps?” Clay asked.
Natalie shuffled forward and sniffed loudly. Under the light Clay could see her eyes were puffy and her cheeks blotched with red, though everything was dry for the moment.
He walked forward and wrapped his arms around her as she laid her head on his chest. She didn’t try to unwrap herself from the blanket or return the hug, just stood leaning against him f
or several long moments.
Clay released the hug and resumed his perch on the steps as Natalie fell in beside him. “Did I interrupt anything?” he asked.
Natalie smirked and said, “Not unless you count listening to Jenna cry on the phone.”
“Do we count listening to Jenna cry on the phone?”
A thin laugh escaped her. “No, definitely not.”
Several lines entered Clay’s mind, but he let each one pass without commenting. He knew his friend well enough to know she would lead the way.
“That first game, I thought we had a chance,” Natalie said.
“A chance? Hell, it went to extra points to decide it. We all thought for sure it was going five sets.”
Natalie shook her head and said, “So did I. They beat us 27-25 for crying out loud. One point each, back and forth.”
“Yep.”
“Then, the wheels just sort of fell off.”
“Losing that first set was tough,” Clay agreed. “Took a lot out of you guys.”
“Yeah, but to only score eight more points the rest of the night? It didn’t take that much out of us.”
Clay tried to say something, but decided to simply say, “Yep.”
A few more moments passed and Natalie said, “Not how I would have pictured it finishing up. I mean, I knew that the odds of us winning state weren’t all that good and that at some point it would end with a loss, but...”
“Not the loss you’d envisioned huh?”
Natalie snorted. “Not exactly. Definitely not the enduring image I wanted in my mind, in everybody’s mind, of our class playing volleyball. Getting housed on our home floor like that.”
Clay stared ahead into the darkness of the yard he knew so well and said, “You know, I know it’s not much consolation, but after I go to bed tonight that game will never enter my mind when I think about you playing volleyball.”
“Oh yeah? How’s that?” Natalie whispered.
Clay closed his eyes for a moment and said, “When I think of you playing volleyball, it will be of us right out here.”
A small smile tugged at the corner of Natalie’s lips but she said nothing.
“Remember all those summer days out here with a ball? Back and forth, back and forth.”
A weak chuckle crawled from Natalie. “Remember the time we strung toilet paper between the trees and used that as a net?”
Clay couldn't help but laugh. “Oh, yeah I do. Your parents felt so bad after seeing that, they went out and bought you a net the next day.”
“Thing was, I kind of liked the toilet paper better.”
“So did I!” Clay said, rocking to the side and nudging Natalie, both of them laughing.
Behind them a light came on in the kitchen. They both turned and looked at it, then paused to look at each other.
“I should be getting home,” Clay said.
“Yeah,” Natalie agreed. “If they come out and see you here they’ll want to talk about the game and stuff. I don’t know that I’m up for that.”
Clay rose, helped Natalie up and wrapped his arms around her blanket cocoon once more.
“Thanks for stopping by,” Natalie said. “I needed it.”
“You’re more than welcome,” Clay said. “You’d have done the same for me. Just be sure to pass along my apologies to Jenna.”
He released the hug and backed down the stairs as Natalie retreated towards the door. “Where’s your truck?” she asked.
“Didn’t bring it. Actually rode my bike over.”
“You rode your bike? It’s like forty degrees out here.”
“Yeah, well, I was hoping not to wake anybody,” Clay said. He held a hand towards the kitchen light and said, “Lot of good that did, huh?”
Natalie smiled and said, “Aw, that’s alright. You know they don’t care. You’re family.”
“Yeah, I know,” Clay said, backing down the sidewalk towards the driveway. “The way I saw it though, damn near every time we’ve sat on these steps under the stars it was because I rode my bike over here to visit. Why should tonight be any different?”
Wednesday
Chapter Eighteen
Five minutes before the alarm was set to go off, a pair of text messages woke Clay up. The first was from Chelsie, telling him her mom had made pumpkin doughnuts that morning and she was bringing some over for breakfast. The second was from Natalie telling him she wasn’t going to school and wouldn’t be needing a ride.
Clay lay in bed and watched the pale grey light of the morning dance along the ceiling until the alarm chirped beside him, turned it off and swung his feet to the floor. He showered and dressed, packed his bag for practice, and by the time he came down the stairs he could hear Chelsie and his mother talking at the table.
“Morning,” Clay said as he entered the kitchen. The aroma of baked pumpkin hit him full in the face as he paused mid-step and inhaled deeply.
His mother and Chelsie both laughed and his mother said, “I think you were dead on.”
Chelsie returned the laugh. “I told you he loved the doughnuts!”
Clay dropped his bag by the door and bent down to kiss the curly hair atop Chelsie’s head. “I told you that information was only to be used for good, not evil.”
“Evil? Why I have no idea what you mean,” Chelsie said, feigning innocence.
“Neither do I,” his mother said with a mouthful of doughnut. “Nothing evil here.”
Clay chuckled, pulled up a chair beside Chelsie and tore into a doughnut. He closed his eyes for a second and savored the rich, moist goodness. Without opening them he pushed the remainder of the doughnut into his mouth and swallowed it all in one blissful bite.
Beside him Chelsie and his mother stifled laughs, but said nothing.
“Alright, fine,” Clay begrudgingly admitted. “Maybe evil wasn’t quite the word I was looking for.”
Chelsie flashed him a smug smile and quietly continued sipping her coffee.
“So to what do we owe the rare treat? Doughnuts on a Wednesday?”
“Well, since we’re hosting tonight," Chelsie said, “mom’s been cooking up a storm. I guess since she had everything on hand, she decided to go ahead and knock out some doughnuts.”
Clay narrowed his eyes a bit. “Should I take that to mean there may be a pumpkin roll on hand tonight?”
“I can neither confirm nor deny.”
Beth Anne watched the exchange with slight amusement, her eyes playing back and forth between them.
Clay tore his gaze away from Chelsie and reached for another doughnut, going a little slower now and finishing it in four bites. After a third, he finished his milk and slid himself back from the table.
“Only three?” Chelsie asked. “Mom will be disappointed. May think she’s losing her touch or something.”
“Nothing of the sort,” Clay said. “It’s that there’s pumpkin roll coming today and I do still have to suit up on Friday.”
“Ahh, the old not-in-season excuse,” Chelsie said. “I’ll be sure to relay the message.”
“Please do,” Clay said, rising and placing his glass in the sink. He ran water into it and swirled it around, then tossed it down the drain.
“Well, shall we?” Chelsie asked.
“Yeah, it’s getting to be that time,” Clay said. “Wait...we?”
“Mom dropped me off this morning. With the plate of doughnuts and stuff, I just told her I’d get a ride with you.”
Clay smiled at the thinly veiled excuse and said, “By all means. Shall we?”
He picked his gym bag up from the floor and held the door for Chelsie. “See you tonight at the Swanson’s?” he asked his mother.
“I’ll be there,” she said.
“See you then,” he said and was out the door.
“Have a good day,” his mother called behind him.
Chelsie waited for him just outside the door and he threw his arm around her as they headed for the truck.
“Just so happened to need a
ride this morning, huh?”
Chelsie grasped his right hand atop her shoulder with her own. “Can’t a girl get a ride to school from her boyfriend?”
“Of course she can. Her wanting a ride this particular morning wouldn’t have anything to do with her thinking there may be another passenger coming along would it?”
Chelsie played at not knowing what he meant. “Is there another passenger coming along?”
“Not at all. I’m just asking.”
Clay walked her around to the far side of the truck and opened the door for her. She climbed in and he closed the door behind her and tossed his gym bag into the bed of the truck.
“And to answer your question,” Chelsie said as he climbed in, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Clay laughed as he started the engine and dropped the gearshift into drive. “Of course you don’t.”
Chapter Nineteen
“Overall, I would say the tests went pretty well,” Mrs. Elmner said as she circled the room, handing back the tests from the previous week. With each paper, she would come around to the student and slide it face down on their desk to make sure their grade wasn’t broadcast for the room to see. “I can tell we as a class are still having some difficulties removing one cubic entity from another, but that is to be expected.”
The pile of papers in her hand was almost gone before she got to Clay, the sound of her thick shoes reverberating against the hard wood floors. She set his test down in front of him and moved on without saying anything.
Clay turned the paper over and saw “81 B-/C+” written across the top. Beside him Goldie peered over and gave an approving nod, then held up his own paper with “72 C-“ scrawled on it.
“Superstar and a genius,” Goldie whispered.
“A B- hardly qualifies me as a genius.”
“You heard Elmner, the whole class sucked on this one.”
Clay cracked a smile with one side of his mouth and settled back into his chair as Mrs. Elmner took to explaining commonly made mistakes on the blackboard. She outlined various methods of determining special measurements when certain variables were unknown and walked them through how to remove one cubic volume from another.
Just A Game Page 8
