Crimson Catch (Game Time #1)

by S. M. Donaldson

He shrugs. “Just saw the lights on and remembered that I needed to ask Joelle about something. I didn’t get her number earlier.”

  “Oh, well why didn’t you just ask me for it a little bit ago?” my brother asks suspiciously.

  “It just popped in my head after I left.” He turns to me. “Thanks, Jo. I’m gonna get going. I gotta go pick up my brother.”

  “You’re welcome,” I say, trying not to laugh at the uncomfortableness of everyone in the room.

  After he leaves, I turn out the rest of the lights and start out the door with James. Once we’re in the car, he starts with the questions. “So how did he do at tutoring today?”

  “He did fine. I’m trying to sort out some stuff for him, but I’m not talking about it with you. It’s personal because I’m his tutor. It’s like Mom and the HIPPA shit at the doctor’s office.”

  “Just be careful around him. I know you normally aren’t the type he goes for, but-.” He leaves the end open.

  I stew on what he’s said until we get home. Once we’re in the driveway, I look at him with all kinds of hate in my eyes. “James, you don’t have to keep reminding me that I’m not up to the Queen B par of the school. I got the fucking memo. I know I’m not his type, especially after I ran into Ciara giving him fucking head this morning. He’s being nice to me because I’m his tutor. It’s nothing more. Don’t worry, the band geek isn’t going to infiltrate your precious sports circle.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  I shake my head. “Of course you did. I know I don’t look like them. As you just said earlier today, I’m just natural and guess what, I’m okay with that. I may be the biggest disappointment to this family, since they only seem to worship football players and future pole-dancing porn stars, but I’m me.” Before he can say anything in defense, I jump from the car and run inside to my room and lock the door. Throwing myself on my bed, I start to sob.

  CHAPTER 7

  Collin-

  Just as I planned, I stayed at the football field after my practice. It’s Thursday and I need to tell her about my Geometry quiz today. It’s weird how much I wanted to talk to her yesterday. Ciara is still trying to surgically attach herself to my crotch, which I’m finding annoying.

  After a few minutes of them warming up, they start doing these really fast movement drills. I kinda feel sorry for that guy carrying that big ass tuba.

  Mr. Clark, the band director, yells from the bleachers. “All right, get to the sidelines and let’s start from the beginning!” The drums start a tick and suddenly all of the members are moving to spots on the field. Then they just stop in a certain place it seems.

  The director grabs up a wireless microphone, just then I notice an amplifier on the sidelines. “On behalf of Superintendent John Wright, Principal Wade Locke and Assistant Principal Lori Gellar, Everly High School proudly presents the Pride of Everly Marching Band. The band is under the direction of Martin Clark and under the field direction of Macy Jones. Drum Major, is your band ready? We now present to you blah blah blah. Blah blah blah.”

  I could see where he’d get tired of saying all of that during practice.

  The girl standing on the step thingy waves her hands around and finally bows, clapping her hands loudly before speaking. “BAND PARADE REST!” She claps a few more times. “BAND TEN HUT!”

  They repeat back, “HUT!”

  “BAND HORNS UP!” She starts clapping again. “ONE TWO ONE TWO READY PLAY!”

  They start playing and moving at the same time. They sound awesome. How have I missed this? Are they playing Lynyrd Skynyrd?

  “STOP! STOP! STOP!” the director yells. “Brass, why are you slopping over this like you’re hung over in church on Sunday? Get it together. Move back to the beginning, start again! I know we have the football game this Friday and that’s a great practice and all, but we have contest coming up.” He starts pacing. “I don’t know how many times I have to say practice it like you’re going to perform it. Also, if you guys can’t say ‘Turn it up’ loud enough, I’m going to cut the whole part out. Which will suck, by the way.”

  Once they’re all back on the sidelines, they begin again. After four attempts, they make it through the entire show. Which kicks ass.

  The drum major gives the ticks for them to start off the field, but he whistles loud enough to stop a damn semi. “STOP! Spot check time!”

  Everyone looks petrified. “Joelle! Give me the drum feature.” Watching her haul around that big ass set of drums has been eye opening. She’s in her tank top and a little pair of gym shorts. She starts whaling on the drums, which he must be happy with because he never stops her. Once she stops, he smiles. “Great job, Joelle. See, that is what work looks like, ladies and gents. Now, Cassidy-.” He keeps talking but all I can do is stare at Joelle. That is until the band director screams into the mic. “WHAT IN THE HECK ARE YOU DOING JULIE? Stay on top of it. Your section will have an extra sectional practice this week since you need more time to get it together obviously. We’re a small band, we can’t afford to have horn toters. I know Monroe is just up the road and their band has almost two-hundred members, but they aren’t loud. Half of those kids just tote their horn around the field. They don’t actually play and most judges notice that crap. So they can have as many bodies as they want, la-ti-freakin’-da.”

  I see one kid playing around at the forty yard line. “NICK! Since you’ve got all this extra energy, go run some laps. Stop when I get tired.”

  Holy shit! I thought our coach was tough.

  “The rest of you, let’s take it from the top.”

  They all shuffle back to the sidelines. They go through the show four more times before practice is over. I thought at one point Mr. Clark was going to have a heart attack. Especially when he threw the microphone into the field, almost hitting a flute player. This guy’s kinda crazy.

  Once they finish the last set, he speaks back into the mic. “Great practice today, you guys! Y’all did awesome. Keep it up. I’ll see you in class tomorrow. Julie, get with first chair and see what you guys can work out for the extra sectional. I don’t care if you do double duty one night, just get it done.”

  It’s like a total damn change from the homicidal guy an hour ago. Is he bi-polar?

  Joelle steps up in front of me. “You really did come.”

  “I told you I was curious.”

  Clementine runs and jumps on Joelle’s back piggy-back style. “Hey, Atwood. What are you doing here?”

  “Just came to watch some talent. I didn’t know you were in the band, too.”

  “Yep, I blow a pretty mean horn.” She winks. “As well as I knock balls around.”

  Joelle laughs. “Get off of me, you heifer. My shoulders are killing me today.”

  Clementine jumps down. “I’m going over to the gym, gotta hit the weight room. I’ll talk to you later, Jo.”

  “Yeah, okay,” Joelle says, laughing. “Make sure the weight room is all you’re hitting.”

  I look at Joelle questioningly. She shrugs. “Inside joke. She and Harrison have this ongoing flirtation whatever. Anyway, what’s up?”

  “So I got a ninety on my quiz today. To say that my teacher was shocked would be an understatement.” She laughs. “I mean it. Once I started picturing the problem versus reading it, it fell into place.”

  “Great. How’s the book coming?”

  “You were right, the book is holding my interest. The author knows their shit when it comes to people our age, someone just murdered a kid at the school. So anyway, that was some hardcore shit out there. I thought Coach Fagan was tough but Mr. Clark looked downright homicidal a couple of times.”

  She snorts. “He gets that way right before contest time.”

  “Wow.” I watch her pack up her sticks and slide on a t-shirt over her tank top. “I thought someone was going to get hit with that microphone.”

  She barks out a laugh. “Yeah, everyone freaks the first time they see that happen.” She grabs up the drums and
starts walking with them toward a truck. I reach over to grab them from her.

  “Holy crap, Jo. These things are monsters. How do you stay upright when you’re so tiny?” Seriously, these things weigh a lot.

  “You get used to it.” She looks up to some kid in the back of the pickup. “Here, take these by the band room for me. Put them in my sectional room, I don’t want everyone messing with them. If I see the heads scratched up, it’s your ass.”

  I laugh as the kid says okay timidly and we walk away. “Damn, hard core much?”

  She grabs a bottle of water and chugs it down. “Rookies.”

  “Huh?”

  “It’s our own form of initiation. They do our crap work for the first year they’re in. I had to do it all my eighth grade year.”

  “Why eighth grade? I thought it was ninth,” I ask curiously.

  “No, our school is so small, we start marching in the eighth grade,” she says casually before taking another sip of water.

  “Something new every day. You hungry?”

  “Yes, but I’ve got to get to the store.”

  “Well, let me give you a ride and buy you something at Wendy’s or something.” She starts to protest. “No, I owe you big time. You’re going to be my savior when it comes to my grades.”

  “Fine, but I’m getting a Frosty and I’m going to dip my fries in it. So don’t get grossed out.” As she walks to the car, I can’t help but laugh. That is until she leans down in those short shorts to grab her bag before getting in.

  Fuck.

  CHAPTER 8

  Joelle-

  As I’m finishing my breakfast, my mom calls my name while she fixes her coffee. “Joelle.”

  I look up. “Yes, ma’am?”

  “Don’t forget we’re feeding the team tonight.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Where are they doing that this year?” I ask, annoyed. Seriously, damn near the entire town shuts down on Friday nights for a home game. The parents in the Touchdown Club each pick a Friday night to feed the team for home games. Tonight is our night I guess, and I have to help serve. Yes, that is just the highlight of my day.

  “They’re doing it in the school cafeteria,” she replies with her hand resting on her hip. “It would be nice if you showed a little support.”

  I want to scream, I want to cuss, I want to tell them all to go to hell, but I don’t. “Yes, Mother.”

  “Seriously, Jo, don’t get an attitude. I know you’d rather clean toilets than help your brother, but we only do this once a year. It’s the least you can do,” she says as she turns back to the sink.

  What in the ever loving fuck? I’d rather clean toilets than help my brother? I help his ass all the time. As I’m about to explode, I hear Clementine’s car horn. “See you this afternoon,” I mumble.

  I hear her as I’m walking out the door telling me to be there at four. If I wouldn’t get grounded and it keep me from getting my license next month, I would blow the whole thing off.

  Sliding into the passenger seat of Clem’s Mazda, she smiles. “Game day.”

  I point my finger in the air and whirl it around. “Woo hoo,” I say with complete non-enthusiasm.

  “Come on, you have to at least be a little excited. You get to be all badass with your drums,” she says as she plays air drums before backing out of our driveway.

  I shake my head. “Yes. That happens to be the bright spot of my day. Low point of the day, I have to serve the football players tonight because it’s my family’s night to cook for them.” I sigh and flop my head back against the seat.

  “Hey, I’ll try to come help you and maybe you’ll get out of there faster,” she offers.

  I give her a small smile. “Thanks, that would be great. Then I’d at least have one person to talk to.”

  She clears her throat and asks, “So how’s it going with your student?” She glances over at me. “He hasn’t figured anything out, has he?”

  “God no. You would know if that happened.” I look at her. “But to answer your other question, the student part is going fine.”

  “Well, he’ll be at the supper tonight, too. So it won’t be all bad,” she states.

  I bark out a laugh. “Really? Do you actually think he’ll speak to me in front of all those people? I doubt it.”

  As we pull into the parking lot, the colors of crimson and silver are everywhere. I see they’ve already started covering the football players’ cars with streamers. I’m sure there are painted signs all over campus, too, with some slogan on how they should beat the Pirates. My sister did some big thing in the hardware store window about “Sink the Pirates”. It’s all a bit funny to me, I mean how are bulldogs supposed to sink pirates? But whatever works for them.

  Clem looks over at me. “You ready for this?”

  I sigh, grabbing up my backpack. “I guess. I might as well be.” I put my fist up in the air and mock, “Go team!”

  She snorts, laughing at me. “You are such a smart ass!”

  I flip her off as I climb out of the car. “Come on, let’s get this day over with.”

  This day is going to be crazy. We have a pep rally at one o’clock. I have to help serve the team at four o’clock and then I need to be at the field by a quarter after six.

  Making my way through the hallway, I see the Queen Bs are already in their uniforms, along with the rest of the squad. I don’t know why I find this totally annoying, but I do. Going to my locker to change out the books in my backpack, my locker neighbor, Vivian, smiles. “Hey, Joelle. How’s it going?”

  “Hey, Viv, it’s going okay. I see you guys are already dressed for the pep rally.” I motion to her uniform.

  She shrugs. “Yeah, I’d rather wait until right before the rally, but Ciara thinks we should be dressed out all day.”

  I nod, understanding. Vivian has always been a little quieter than the rest of the cheerleaders. Well, off the field anyway. She’s an excellent cheerleader, she’s just not in it for the status like a few of them.

  She shuts her locker and smiles. “See you in Mr. Carnley’s class.”

  I smile. “See you then.”

  Walking to study hall, I think about the new story I’m working on. If any of these people found out about the books I write, I’d be the laughing stock of the school. Sure most of them rave about how much they love P.J. Scott’s books, but if they knew I was the person behind the pen name, they’d find it funny. Not to mention how pissed my parents and siblings would be.

  My study hall teacher today is Coach Fagan. He stops me outside of the room. “Prescott.”

  Coach always calls everyone by their last name. “Hey, Coach.”

  He touches my arm. “Thanks again for helping with that situation. It’s important for the team.”

  I give him a small nod. “No problem, Coach. You know me, I’m a team player,” I reply with a small hint of sarcasm.

  He shakes his head. “Get in there, girl.”

  I slide into the desk in the far back corner of the room. Reaching into my backpack, I grab my laptop and open it on my desk. Most students would get looked at funny for having a laptop out on their desk, but that wasn’t a problem for me. No one looked at me.

  Lost in thought a few minutes later, I am typing up a storm when a body slides into the desk in front of me. “What has you working so hard over here?”

  I glance up to see Collin looking at me. I quickly close the document I have open. “Just a paper for an assignment,” I lie.

  “So I heard your folks are part of the group feeding us tonight,” he questions.

  “Yeah, I guess I’ll see you there. I have to help serve,” I reply quietly.

  “I thought just the parents served.”

  “I don’t know. I had to help last year, too. Maybe it’s just my family. A form of punishment for me not being like them. I don’t come unless it’s their night to serve,” I answer, shrugging.

  He gives me a half laugh. “Well, it’ll be good to see you there tonight.”

&nb
sp; “Atwood. What are you still doing in here? Get back to Ag class.”

  Collin jumps up from the desk. “Sure thing, Coach.”

  That brings laughs from the class to him and unwanted attention to me.

  CHAPTER 9

  Collin-

  I don’t know why but when I came to talk to Coach and saw her sitting in the back corner of the classroom, oblivious to the world around her, I was drawn to her. There’s something about her that relaxes me. She’s like a cool breath of fresh air on a fall morning.

  Fall is my favorite time of year. I go running every morning just as the sun breaks. It’s cool and the air is crisp. The solace of being the only person out at that time, the quietness, it’s peaceful. No one is asking me about football, riding my ass about the town counting on me, it’s just me.

  Walking back to the Ag building, I can’t shake her from my mind. Someone startles me by shoving me. I correct myself, ready to knock someone out, when I see Booker. He throws his hands up. “Whoa there, bud. I was just messing with you. I didn’t realize you weren’t paying attention.”

  I calm for a second before I speak. “What’s up?”

  “I just saw you walking. You ready for tonight?”

  I shrug. “Might as well be. Right?”

  “Hey, man, you don’t sound so confident. You’re like the golden boy,” he replies sarcastically.

  Fuck, that pisses me off when people say that. I just happen to have been born with some talent and I have been fine tuning that since I was old enough to carry a ball.

  “I got it, man. Don’t worry about me. You just worry about keeping people off me.” I spin around and walk away.

  Fucking people just don’t get it. He’s a prick anyway, but he’s massive on the field. I know I’d rather have him with me on the field rather than against me.

  Turning the corner, I run into another face I didn’t really care to see today. “Hey, Collin,” Ciara says with a thick layer of flirting.

  “Hey.” I give a short reply, hoping she’ll take a hint.

  Nope. No such luck. She loops her arm through mine. “So I can’t wait for the game tonight. Are you going to the Daffin’s farm afterward?” she says, giving my arm a squeeze.