My Name Is River Blue

by Noah James Adams

  Mrs. Summers' laugh was still young and almost musical. Carlee's expression told me that she was amused at the way I spoke to her mother, but I meant every word. Carlee and her mother were goddesses to me.

  "Well, aren't you sweet, River," said Mrs. Summers. "Thank you. I know you two want to get back to your friends. It was very nice meeting you, River. Tell Max to bring you again the next time he and Carlee have a party, and knowing the excuses they use, it won't be long."

  For the rest of the party, I saw much more of Mrs. Summers, and frequently when I saw her, she met my gaze and smiled warmly. I was glad that I must have made a good impression, and I hoped that she would mention something to Papa, so he would know that I was using good manners and getting along with people.

  The last time I saw Mrs. Summers that day was when I was crawling out of the pool to dry off and change clothes before Ant and I left with Papa. As I was drying my hair, I noticed Mrs. Summers staring at me, and it took me only seconds to understand that she was focused on my birthmark. Realizing that she was behaving rudely, she walked straight to me to apologize.

  "Please forgive me, River. I was trying to remember something, and I spaced out when I was looking your way."

  "Oh, you're fine, Mrs. Summers. I thought that maybe you saw my birth mark. People always tell me it resembles the state of Florida."

  "That is so rude of them. You must get tired of the same old stares and questions, so I won't tell you that it looks like Florida, but I will tell you that I think it's a very distinctive and attractive mark on a very handsome young man."

  "Oh, wow. Thank you, ma'am." If she had been younger, I would have thought that she was flirting with me, and if I had been older, I would have known she was.

  "I've heard it's possible for some kinds of birth marks to run in families." Mrs. Summers acted as if she expected me to confirm or deny the possibility.

  "Personally, I wouldn't know, ma'am." How could I know? I had no family.

  Mrs. Summers suddenly remembered that I didn't know my parents. She seemed embarrassed and gave me a hug as she apologized. "I'm sorry, River. That was so thoughtless of me. Can you forgive me?" All the time she talked, she rubbed her hand up and down the bare skin of my back, and on one down stroke, her fingers slid briefly inside the back of my trunks.

  "Sure, Mrs. Summers. I know you didn't mean any harm." I wondered if she meant for her fingers to rub my ass.

  "Well, you're such a polite young man. I hope you had a good time."

  "Yes, ma'am, I did. It was nice meeting you. You're just as cool as Max and Carlee said you were."

  Mrs. Summers beamed, and I could have probably borrowed money from her. I was glad when Max's mom called her away because I wasn't sure I could tolerate much more of my own sugary crap. If he had heard my conversation, Papa might have told me not to be so obvious when I was sucking up to an adult, but I could tell that Mrs. Summers enjoyed it. With more experience, it became my opinion that most people I met enjoyed flattery even when they knew it was disingenuous.

  I only saw Carlee's father one time that day when he came out of a second floor room of his house onto a balcony that overlooked the pool. Carlee said the room was his office and that he was too busy to join the party. The thing I remember most about the first time I saw him was the way his huge frame filled the doorway of his office from top to bottom and side to side. I saw both reasons that people in Bergeron County called the powerful man, "Big Bill." I immediately wondered if someone with a pair of binoculars could see the gardens from that balcony because I sure as hell didn't want that huge man to be pissed at me.

  ***

  Not only was Carlee serious about taking riding lessons at Deer Lake Farm, Tina Woodson, her pretty African-American friend, suddenly developed an interest in horses when she learned Ant would be there. A lesson normally took an hour, but the girls told their mothers that they wanted to learn everything about taking care of horses, and they needed at least three hours at the farm on Saturdays. It just so happened that Ant and I would always be there during the girls' visits.

  There was plenty of time for Carlee and me to talk as we held hands and walked trails. I never tired of listening to her childhood stories, but I had difficulty picking a few pleasant memories from my past that I could share with her. I think Carlee sensed my reluctance to discuss my childhood, and she was kind enough not to pry. We found the perfect spots for private moments of kissing and hugging, but as difficult as it was to restrain ourselves, we settled for vanilla displays of affection that limited my anxiety.

  Papa kept an eye on us, but allowed us to feel that we had more privacy than we really did. He established rules as to where we could go on the farm without an adult and therefore, controlled our time alone. As if he needed to hear it, Sue, the farm's riding instructor, gave Papa the same opinion she expressed to me. She figured that she could charge the girls more if she saddled Ant and me for their lessons instead of two horses. I took the comment to mean that the girls were only there because of Ant and me, but when I grew older, I reminded her of what she had said. Her face reddened, and she admitted to hoping that I would forget the comment before I was old enough to understand all the possible meanings.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  On the Monday following Carlee Summers' party, I began my eighth grade year of school, and it was the first time that I ever started a school year with friends. It was a strange feeling to have friends and teammates treat me as one of the gang and greet me with high-fives when they saw me in the halls. As they promised they would, our teammates saved Ant and me a seat with them at one of the team's customary lunch tables in the cafeteria.

  Some students that I hardly knew acted friendly, but only because of my position on the football team. I knew that if my play on the field failed to live up to peoples' expectations that the other kids' tolerance of me would vanish. I would again assume the role of the half-breed state kid that other students avoided, unless they were whispering, pointing, and snickering at my cheap clothes. Because of Papa's training, I tried to be polite to all the students, but I would never be friends with any of them who ridiculed me before I joined the football team.

  Ant, Max, and I hung together at every opportunity, and with their similar outgoing personalities, they made school more fun for me. Ant and I laughed every day at Max's stupid jokes and terrible impressions of celebrities, and then Max and I would grin at Ant's rapping and dancing in the halls between classes. One of our younger teachers often started her class by allowing Max to tell a new joke, which was always clean and usually so stupid that we had to laugh.

  Max thrived on attention and approval in a way that I didn't expect from a rich kid. He enjoyed making people laugh and never hesitated to offer a self-deprecating joke. There were several times when he asked me if I thought a particular kid was angry with him, or if I thought he was getting on peoples' nerves with his jokes. It mattered a great deal to Max that people liked him, and since he was the most popular boy in school, it surprised me to hear him worry about it.

  Most of the classrooms had desks designed for two students to share, and although both students could fit, it was almost impossible to keep from knocking elbows and knees with your desk partner. The teachers allowed us to pick our partners, and they honored our choices as long as we behaved. There were few problems because none of us wanted to sit closely all school year with someone we didn't like. I was lucky to have at least one close friend in each of my classes, so I always shared a desk with Ant, Max, or Carlee. In study hall, I shared with Carlee. It was a perfect time for us to talk to each other, which the study hall teacher allowed, as long as we whispered.

  Thursday morning the football players wore their jerseys to school because there would be a pep rally during the last period of the day. It was another indication of how important football was to Harper Springs and another reason for my mounting nervousness over how I would play. In the hours prior to the rally, I could not escape students and teachers askin
g me if I was ready for the game as if the school building would crumble to the ground if I played poorly.

  During my lunch period, Principal Latham, with his egg-shaped body crammed into a cheap suit, waddled over to my table, and asked to speak to me privately. Leaving my curious teammates to eat their lunches, I followed the principal out a nearby door and onto the quad where he suddenly stopped.

  "River, I wanted to tell you that we're all proud to have you on the team. I watched a couple of your practices, and I agree with Coach Riddle and Coach Haney that we have never had an athlete of your caliber on the junior high squad."

  "Thank you, sir." If he could have, the same man would have expelled me back in the spring for the "restroom incident."

  "It's been years since our junior high team had a winning season, and we can't wait for the other towns to watch you take us straight to the conference championship. If you play well, you will make the high school varsity team next year, and I bet you will get some playing time."

  "I'll give it my best, sir." I wished the man would let me get back to my lunch before one of the other boys ate it. My teammates weren't shy about finishing another boy's tray, and a quick trip to the restroom was enough time to make a guy's food disappear. They all thought it was funnier than I did, but they never lived in a place where they didn't get enough to eat.

  "River, if there's anything you need, let me know. I know that foster kids don't always have everything they should. If you need anything like school supplies or even clothes, just come to me in private. I'll handle it discreetly, and none of the other students will ever know I helped you."

  "Well, sir, actually..." I decided to play the game and see what happened. First, I had to look hesitant and a little embarrassed to ask.

  "What, River?" Latham leaned in closer, throwing his arm around me. He had eaten onions recently. "Don't be shy. Just tell me what you need, son."

  "Well, sir, I only get so much from the state for my clothing allowance, and my foster parents are running short of funds for me until next month. The thing is I've outgrown the shoes I'm wearing, and they're all I got. My feet are killing me by the end of the day."

  "Oh, no. We can't have you playing on sore feet, River. What size do you need?"

  "Eleven, medium width, but if I wear cheap shoes, my toes get messed up. I need a good pair. Maybe Nikes, if I could have them. If it's not too much, sir."

  "I'll take care of it. We have a little fund for emergencies like that. You stop by my office after the pep rally." Latham puffed out his chest as if he were going to save thousands of homeless children in some foreign country.

  "Thank you, sir."

  Of course, there was nothing wrong with my shoes except that they were a cheap brand that I didn't like. Hal and Jenny would have never let me wear shoes that hurt my feet and neither would Papa. I just wanted some new Nikes, and I figured that I would use Latham if it made him feel good to help me. I wondered how easy it would be to score some clothes or maybe a ten-speed to ride to school instead of taking the Tolley House minibus.

  As I walked back inside the cafeteria, I wondered about a town full of people whose lives were so pathetically boring that junior high football could be so important. Football was such a big deal that if I played the game well, they would temporarily forgive me for costing them tax money for my care.

  ***

  The pep rally was a raucous affair, which began with the pep band playing our fight song to a full school assembly as the football team entered the auditorium and took the stage. We all stood facing the audience of students, teachers, and other staff and listened to Principal Latham and Coach Riddle give short speeches. The team captains, Max Summers, the tailback, and Gary Carson, the middle linebacker, reminded everyone that our first game of the season was against the defending champion Batesville Lions at seven o'clock that night. The Lions had finished the previous season with a record of 7-1 and had beaten Harper Springs by three touchdowns. Max promised that it was a new season and no one, including the Lions, would beat us on our home field.

  I gave Max my death stare when my always-exuberant teammate called on me, the team's new quarterback, to speak to the packed auditorium. Reluctantly, I walked to the podium amid rousing cheers from all the students and teachers who were anxious to see if the state kid could lead them to a winning season. I tried to think of something to say, but I was so nervous that no words came to mind. Seeing me slowly die at the podium, Max stepped closer. He acted as if he were interviewing me and gave the impression that we planned it that way.

  "So, Mr. QB, how many touchdowns do you think we'll score?" Max asked.

  "Four," I answered.

  It wasn't too unusual for a team to score four touchdowns in a junior high school game, so the applause was polite, but no one was too excited until I added to my prediction.

  "In the first half, that is." I said it as if I were stating a fact.

  The auditorium shook with thunderous applause, foot stomping, and cheers that went on for several minutes. Afterwards, Carlee and her cheer squad excited the crowd with their gymnastic moves set to music from the pep band, and then the girls led the audience in a few cheers until everyone was pumped up and oozing with school spirit. Principal Latham took control of the rally and dismissed the crowd on a high note.

  It was tradition that the players walk up the center aisle between teachers and students who slapped our hands or patted our backs on our way out of the auditorium. Even Mr. Miller wished me well. I had never been part of anything that excited people so much, and I thought as enthusiastic as the junior high crowd was, the high school pep rally would be insane.

  When I visited the principal's office, the man closed the door and pulled a box of new Nikes out of a shopping bag. He told me to see how they fit and when I tried on the shoes, my feet would have smiled if they could have. It was rare for me to have anything new, and I was so excited that I gave Principal Latham a hug, which surprised both of us. Before I left the office, it occurred to me that Ant's shoes were getting tight on him, so I mentioned it to the principal, who made a note. He followed with a comment that didn't surprise me.

  "Tell Antwon to have a good game, and I'll speak with him tomorrow about what he needs."

  On our way home, I told Ant that if he played well in the game, he could score a pair of new shoes. The day after our game, he had a new pair of Nikes identical to mine.

  ***

  The Harper Springs Junior High School Hawks played their home games on the old high school football field on Thursday nights. Coach Riddle thought that there would be far more than the usual number of fans in attendance, and knowing that I was one of the main reasons for the larger than normal crowd made me nervous.

  When our team, led by Carlee and the rest of the cheerleaders, ran out onto the field, I was shocked to see that there were more than three thousand people in the stands on the home side of the field. As my team spread out to begin warm-up drills, my stomach churned with nervousness, and I fought back the urge to hurl. By game time, an additional one thousand Harper Springs fans that had arrived.

  Our team received the opening kickoff, and after Coach Riddle gave me the first play, I ran to the huddle and relayed it to my offense. At the line of scrimmage, I focused more on the fact that every pair of eyes in the stadium were watching me than I did on executing the play, and I could not have done much worse than I did. I fumbled the snap from center, and accidently kicked it directly to a Lions' player who recovered it on our thirty-yard line. The busted play and turnover was followed by a loud groan from the crowd that I heard as I left the field with my teammates. I watched helplessly as the Lions used only four plays to score the first touchdown of the game.

  I wanted to run off the field and hide. I didn't have to wonder what our fans were thinking because I could still hear their disapproval. They booed when I fumbled, booed when the Lions scored, and booed when the extra point was good.

  Ant and Max stood quietly beside me and
listened to Coach Riddle encourage me.

  "River, we all make mistakes, and that's normal, especially for your first game," he said. "When you go back out there, try to shut out the crowd and focus on the play. Remember what I told you in practice. Execute the play and then let your instincts take over."

  "Yes, sir." I wondered how quickly Coach Riddle would pull me and give the offense to Eric Mize, my backup. It would be embarrassing, but it might be best for the team.

  Coach Riddle called a sweep where Max would take the ball around the right end. After we broke the huddle, I stepped up behind center, and the Lions' middle linebacker came in close enough to talk trash to me across the line. He was one of the biggest players on their team with one of the biggest mouths.

  "Hey, QB. Good thing you don't have a daddy to come see you fuck up."

  I wondered for a second if he knew me, but then I decided he was just trying to mess with my head as he would any opposing QB. His words still stung, and he pissed me off enough that I loudly cursed him. Unfortunately, no official heard the Lions' player, but one of them heard me. The next sound was the official's whistle followed by another groan from the crowd when they saw the yellow flag on the field near where I stood. It was unsportsmanlike conduct in our conference to curse another player, and I had just cost us a fifteen-yard penalty. I tried to tell the official that the other guy started it, and he told me to shut up and play ball or he would toss me from the game.

  I saw Coach Riddle on the sideline. He was pointing to his head, which was his way of telling me to use my brain. My teammates told me the same thing in our huddle.

  Ant spoke up first. "RB, the best way to shut up them rednecks is to score on 'em."

  "He's right," said Max. "Let's do it."

  Several of my teammates gave me encouraging pats on the back, and when I looked to the sideline to get the hand signals from Coach Riddle, he was grinning like a crazy man. After I checked my wristband and understood the play he called for me, I was grinning more than he was. I signed back that I understood him, and then voiced the play to my teammates. When we broke our huddle, the whole offense was chuckling.