High School Football – The Temptation (first in the high school series)

by Paul Swearingen

High School Football – The Temptation

  Paul Swearingen

  Copyright 2011 Paul Swearingen

  High School Diversity – The Clash

  High School Yearbook – The Drama

  High School Newspaper – The Danger

  High School History – The Treasure

  High School Football – The Temptation is a work of fiction, and all characters in this book are fictitious. Any resemblances to real events, locations, or people, living or dead, are coincidental.

  High School Football – The Temptation

  Chapter One

  What am I doing here?

  Justin shuffled across the street crossing, stumbling slightly over the asphalt-filled cracks that ran like a broken spider web into the intersection.

  I’m on foot, in downtown Nowhere, Kansas. The dang sun is beating on my fool head, and in about two seconds I’m going to have a sunstroke and start convulsing and puking. And no one is going to come and help my sorry ass into the shade. He pulled his cell phone from his back pocket and checked the time: 10:50. What would the temperature be like in a couple of hours?

  His left Nike caught another bump, and he stumbled again and looked around. That’s right, fall on your face, right here on the street, fool. Mama always said, “Pick your feet up when you walk!” You want to be the only black kid in this town facedown on a concrete pavement hot enough to fry you?

  He remembered the last time he’d actually been facedown on concrete, in the dark, and definitely not in the summertime. A foot hooked around his had brought him down, and a pain in his side had suddenly replaced the pain in his elbow as he felt a foot buried in his ribs. He’d rolled into it and brought down his attacker on top of him, but then Justin had twisted away, grabbed his face, and thumped his head on the concrete.

  “Nice way to treat a brother,” Justin had muttered. “Don’t be asking me for any more favors, scumwipe.” He had stood up and returned the favor of a kick in the side, but the figure had just moaned and then lay still. Justin then had walked away, careful not to step into the snow and leave footprints behind.

  He shook his head and looked both ways to check for anyone who might have seen him stumble, but traffic was nonexistent. Nevertheless, he lifted his feet slightly and made it across the street with no more stumbles. With his hands on his hips, he surveyed the area from the street corner … a town square surrounded by vacant lots and mostly two- and three-story brick buildings, some with a scattering of cars angle-parked in front of them, a few boarded up with grass growing between the cracks of the worn, uneven concrete sidewalk in front. This place was dead, really dead. He had thought east Topeka was a prime candidate for the undertaker, but this town looked as if it had expired and been buried for the last century or two. And he was stuck here, a live kid in a dead town, and he’d better keep moving. He shook his head and headed in the direction of the school complex, following the directions that his mother had given him.

  The scene between him, his mother, and his sister two weeks ago when his mother announced that they were moving to Niotaka had not exactly been pretty. She finally had yelled at both of them; his sister Sharice had cried and threatened to run away; he had said little, as he knew quite well what his mother was going through to make ends meet and was as stubborn as he when her mind was made up, and maybe it was time for a change for all of them. Good jobs didn’t grow on trees, and even though she would make half again as much at the candy factory in town here than she had on the night shift at Frito-Lay in Topeka, it still just didn’t seem fair that they had to uproot and change everything so suddenly, right before school was to start, so that he wouldn’t get to hang in the halls and Vendoland. He’d really miss some of his friends, especially a few select females.

  “Go get registered for school, Justin; we’ve only got a couple of weeks before school starts here, you know. Here’s a signed check; do what you have to do and make sure you get a receipt for it. And see if you can pick up the forms for Sharice to enroll tomorrow. I need her to help me finish unpacking today.” He’d left his mother and younger sister Sharice in the living room of their house, surrounded by cardboard boxes and wadded-up newspaper, pulling dishes and lamps and flatware out of them at random and depositing everything on the floor.

  She was really serious. Until she had landed the new job, Justin was lucky to get her to turn loose of a five-dollar-bill so he could chill with his friends at the mall and not look like a fool when it came time for them to visit the food court. Unless 12-year-old Sharice was in tow. Then he could count on Mr. Hamilton showing up. But those events had been rare, lately.

  The school administration building sat just off the main street and a few blocks north of downtown and was constructed of the same red brick as the high school building just behind it. Justin squinted at the sign in the window, hoping that he had the wrong place and could just give up and find a shady place so he could cool down, but no luck: the sign clearly stated, “USD #604 - Niotaka Public Schools … Administrative Offices”. He turned to take one more look across the street.

  “Hey, Stretch, you play basketball?”

  The voice came from behind him. Justin turned to face the boy standing behind the partially-opened door of the building.

  “You talkin’ to me?”

  The boy stepped fully out of the door and spat to his right into the gutter. “Ain’t nobody else standing around in the heat out here.” He grinned and took three long strides forward, his hand outstretched. “Name’s Buck. My dad’s superintendent here. I work around the office when he needs a little extra help now and then. I saw you hanging around out here and figured you were new in town and getting ready to go to school.”

  Justin grasped the hand. It was firm and steady. “I’m Justin Jefferson. Yeah, we just moved out from Topeka; my mom’s got a job at the candy factory. And I shoot hoops.” Which was close enough to the truth, if three-on-three counted.

  “Great. Coach Arnold’ll be happy to hear that; we graduated three of our starters this last year. This place isn’t much of a football town, but wait until December. Sometimes there’s a bigger crowd watching basketball practices, for girls and boys both, than show up for football games.” Buck leaned against the side of the building and absent-mindedly scratched his ribs under his cut-off faded orange T-shirt.

  “Well, now, I didn’t say I’d play on a team. I haven’t gone out for sports much since my freshman year.”

  Buck stared at him for a long moment. Justin tried to picture himself as the other boy saw him: close-cropped hair, a faded but clean T-shirt with the arms torn off to show muscular shoulders, jeans, run-down Nikes. And the two were looking each other eye-to-eye; Justin measured just a fraction under six feet, even.

  “Not much to do around here but play baseball now, and later football, basketball, maybe wrestling or track in the spring. Except hang out, and most guys around here work in the fields.”

  Justin turned his head to the right and stared across and down the street. A dusty green Ford pickup moved slowly along the main drag.

  “Yeah, I can see where you’d all want to get out of Dodge and find something living.”

  Buck grunted. “Oh, it’s not so bad, especially on Saturday nights. Come on inside; I’ll help you get registered. Oh, and hey, Stretch, don’t believe all that you hear around here. Not all of us are rednecks in this town.”

  Justin grimaced and followed him into the building. It was definitely cooler inside.

  Registration took only about twenty minutes; he had to f
ill out the forms that the clerk handed him, sign up for an activity ticket and yearbook, and choose between physics or biology, home ec or welding; all the other course choices for juniors were closed, as enrollment had taken place during the first week of August, and he had to take six solids, four of them required. It was going to be tougher here than it had been at Topeka High.

  “You got time for a Coke, Stretch? I got some guys I want you to meet. They usually end up at the Dairy Spot about this time of day, after practice. Come on; I’ll give you a ride.” Buck was already pushing the glass door open.

  “Nothin’ else to do.” Justin stuffed his receipt into the folder containing the information packet and enrollment papers for Sharice and followed Buck outside. It wasn’t eleven yet, and again the heat hit Justin full-force in the face. He squinted his eyes. Buck pulled open the door of a rusty, white-over-yellow Chevy pickup. The squawk from the hinges echoed from the buildings.

  “It don’t look like much, but it runs and it’s paid for.” Buck clanged the door shut and twisted the key, which apparently he’d left in the ignition. A rumble assailed Justin’s ears.

  “Glass packs. Got ‘em last month.”

  Justin nodded. He pulled at the passenger-side door, and nothing happened.

  “Oh, sorry. You gotta lift and pull at the same time.”

  The door screeched open this time, and Justin swung into the sagging seat, careful not to step on the assorted stuff on the floor, including tools, boxes of nails and hardware, rope, wire, insulators, and other unidentifiable hardware in brown paper sacks.

  “Don’t worry about that junk; just kick it out of the way. I’m either going to have to make a trip to the dump or throw it into the back of the garage.” Buck pushed the floor shifter into reverse, backed into the street without looking, and gunned it. The tires squeaked, and Justin’s head snapped back.

  “Makes my old man mad when I do that. Some day he’s going to come rushing out the front door and have a heart attack, right in front of everyone. Good thing he wasn’t there today, huh?”

  “Oh, man. I’m not much good at CPR.” Justin looked sideways at Buck.

  “Yeah, well … I really shouldn’t push it. He hasn’t had an easy time of it here. We’ve only been here for three years, and he’s never lived up to the rep of the last superintendent. If you believed what everyone in town said about him, that dude must have taken regular walks across the reservoir for fun.” Buck spat out the window of the pickup, narrowly missing a Honda Accord coming from the other direction.

  Buck signaled a right turn and turned into the graveled Dairy Spot parking lot. Only a small amount of dust announced their arrival. Buck pushed open the door and strode to the rear of the crowded restaurant, Justin following a step behind. Seven pairs of eyes from a booth filled with girls followed them, but Buck walked past the booth and didn’t even glance at them.

  “Hey, guys; look at what I found wandering around outside the school offices!” Buck whacked Justin on the shoulder.

  In a round corner booth six boys, almost clones of Buck, Justin thought, all wearing baseball caps and T-shirts, stared at him. None smiled.

  Chapter Two

  “Meet Justin,” Buck said. “He says he shoots a few hoops, and he just enrolled for high school; goin’ to be a junior.”

  The six nodded and mumbled their howdys.

  “Move over; this booth’ll take eight butts easy, or about four of yours, Eric.”

  “Aw, bite me,” the big guy in the middle growled pleasantly.

  “Later. Hey, Arlissa, two large Cokes, extra ice, over here, okay?”

  The talk was easy, about jobs and girls and whether or not the football team would win any games this season. Justin drained his Coke and crunched on the ice, not saying anything.

  One of the boys finally glanced at the clock over the pinball machine. “Hey, it’s about dinnertime. I gotta go; my Mom’ll kill me if I’m late again.”

  “Never miss a meal, do you?” Eric chuckled.

  “You got it. You either, huh?”

  “Hey, the center’s got to be big and beefy, ya know?

  “Big and barfy, you mean. I saw you on the sidelines hurling when the rest of us were still running wind sprints.”

  “Yeah, well, you didn’t look so good yourself, Karl, after a couple of jogs up and down the field. I wish Coach would just let us start running patterns and hitting.”

  “Naw, not for another couple of days. State rules, you know. Hey, Justin, why don’t you drop by tomorrow if you don’t have anything else to do?” Karl said. “We start at 7:30 sharp, and Coach probably wouldn’t have any objection to letting you run with us. You look like you’re in pretty good shape.”

  Justin looked up to seven pairs of eyes on him, checking out his biceps. “Yeah, I worked out a little when we were in Topeka,” Justin said. “But my game’s basketball, not football.”

  Karl ignored the remark. “You ever think about being a receiver? Hold up your hands.”

  Justin complied. His hands were like his feet, long and wide. The boys around the table nodded.

  “I think Coach will want to talk to you. It’s no big deal to get on at least the JV team; you just have to have a doctor’s certificate so when you have a coronary after wind sprints the school isn’t liable,” Buck said. “Coach’ll be happy that anyone wants to join these guys for a morning of fun times on the old gridiron.”

  Justin looked around at the group. They didn’t look as unfriendly as they did when he first walked in. “I don’t think so. I had to get a certificate when I went out for baseball this summer, but it’s probably buried in a box somewhere. And like I said, hoops is my game.”

  “Okay, Stretch,” Buck said. “You can wait and be a big star on court later. Lord knows we haven’t seen any on the field lately. That’s present company excluded, gentlemen; no offense.”

  “Oh, none taken,” Karl grunted. “We certainly don’t see your butt out there, either, do we? Well, just give it some thought, Justin. We may not have any hotshots around here, but we do have a bunch of guys who actually provide some amusement once in awhile. It’s not all that, but it’s not all bad, either.”

  Buck slid out of the booth and stood up. “All right, guys, later. Justin, you need a ride, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, I guess so. We live on the other side of downtown. Uh … you know of anyone who’s got a cheap car for sale? I’m getting tired of walking.” Justin stole a look at Buck. “And Mr. Taxi here’s not gonna give me free rides for the rest of his life.”

  Buck grinned. “No problem there, Stretch. Any of us who drive will stop for pedestrians. Even you.”

  “More likely something with nice legs, though,” Eric added.

  “You got that right,” Buck agreed. “Not that there’s any problem with your legs, Stretch.”

  “Yeah, well, I’d rather have one foot against an accelerator the next time I go down Main Street,” Justin sighed. “And I’m not going to be too picky about what I’m seen in. I just need wheels to get around in.”

  “You know, my sister’s going to college in a week or so, and I think my folks are going to get her a newer car in a few days.” Karl rubbed his chin. “I don’t think we’ll keep the old one. It’s no show car, a red four-door Cavalier with a nice collection of parking lot dings in the doors. But I know it starts every time, even in cold weather.”

  “Yeah, I don’t want to have to walk away from any car in any weather when it quits running,” Justin said. “Why don’t you find out what your folks want for it and let me know? I’ll have to … uh, check my finances and get back to you.”

  “Your mom’s working, isn’t she?”

  “Yep. She starts at the candy factory next Monday.”

  “Well, my dad’s a loan officer at the bank,” Karl said. “I imagine we could work out something on the payments. And the car turned over a hundred thousand a long time ago, so I don’t think they’ll want too much for it.”

  “Tha
t’s cool. Let me know, okay?”

  “Let’s hit the road, Stretch,” Buck said as he tossed back a last mouthful of ice. “I got a load of work to do this afternoon. Later, guys.” He pulled a cell phone from his rear pocket, flipped it open, and checked the screen. “Oops … my dinnertime, too.”

  The heat hit them again like a blast furnace, and Justin turned the wing window in to catch the breeze. “Buck, about playing football. I don’t think I …

  Buck cut him off. “Look, Stretch, you don’t have to feel pressured to do anything you don’t want to. But I want you to know something. We lived a couple of counties south of here before Dad took over as Superintendent here, and there were only a few black families in town where we lived. He was principal at the high school there, and he really tried to … well, to integrate things, you know? He tried to do more than just keep things legal. One of the teachers was black, and single, and one night his house burned down. There was talk he’d been seeing a white gal, a college student, and more talk that someone local had torched his house. And even though the state fire marshal was there to inspect what was left, they ruled it accidental, faulty wiring or something. I guess Dad could see what could happen to him, to us, and before the end of the year he resigned, even before he got his job here. There’s not much trouble in this town, even though there are only a half-dozen or so black families living here, but there’s still a difference. Sometimes it helps for someone like me to sort of push down the barriers, to get things started. But if you don’t want to go out for football, it’s all right. No one’s going to think anything less of you.”

  Buck gripped the steering wheel with both hands, staring straight ahead, as the truck rolled down the street.

  “Hey, man, I know where you’re at with all this,” Justin said. “When I walked out my front door this morning, I thought it would be hard enough for me just to walk down the street in this town.”

  Buck let out a puff of breath. “Naw. Last time we shot a minority around here was a couple of years ago. Seriously, sorry about the speech, but I had to be up front with you.”

  “I appreciate it. But like I said, my game is on the court, not the field.”