Initiation (9 page)

Carter nodded. “The girls knew, didn’t they?”

She smiled. “That’s why I was telling you to relax when they took you down to the basement. It did turn out pretty great, don’t you think?”

He smiled for a second then his mouth went flat. “What about guys that nobody likes?”

“We didn’t have a problem finding at least one girl to hook up with each guy. I don’t wanna give you too much of a big head, but a bunch of girls asked about you.” She grinned. “I told those little hoes that you were mine.”

“So we run out of the basement naked thinking that we had to convince some girl to sleep with us, when really the girls are there ready to wrap us up in a jacket or a towel or blanket or whatever and take us some place to hook up?”

“Pretty awesome, huh?”

“Shit.”

“What.”

Carter squirmed out from under her. “I gotta go check on Ben.”

“Who?” she said, sitting up.

“Ben Wheeler.”

She frowned. “Why?”

“He fucked it up. He didn’t run out with the rest of us.”

Amber put her hand over her mouth, concealing a grin. “Oh my God, he didn’t choose one of the other tests?”

Carter nodded. “I just let them do it to him.”

She shook her head, still smiling. “This is crazy. Nobody thought anybody would choose the first two. What did they do to him?”

“They acted like Justin was gonna hit him in the face with his penis, but he did it with a cucumber. Afterward they told him to go back upstairs and everybody kind of looked at him like he was nothing.”

She shrugged. “Maybe he’s a faggot.”

He scowled. “Don’t say that.”

“Is he your friend?”

“He was my first friend here.”

“Was or is?”

“He hasn’t been talking to me lately.”

She held her palms up. “Well then he doesn’t sound like a friend to me. I don’t know why you care. He made the choice, not you.”

Carter shrugged.

“He’s probably gone anyway.”

Carter nodded. “I guess so.”

“So why don’t you take that thing off and grab another one from my purse.”

Chapter 7: One Lie Leads to Another

– 7 –

One Lie Leads to Another

Carter stood at the kitchen counter slathering peanut butter on wheat bread. He gulped down a glass of milk. Alyssa sat next to him with sleepy eyes, slurping the milk from her sugary cereal. Their mom trudged down the stairs in a long silk robe tied at her waist. Her hair was disheveled. Without makeup, her face showed crease lines around her mouth.

“Do you need a ride?” Grace asked Carter. “I’m taking Alyssa at eight.”

“It’s okay, Mom. We start at seven-thirty anyway. I’m just gonna walk.”

Grace inspected Carter with a frown. “Sweetheart, do you think maybe you should wear something a little nicer for the first day of school?”

Carter glanced down at his baggy jeans and gray T-shirt.

“And that hat’s seen better days.”

Carter pulled the brim of his baseball cap low over his eyes. “I gotta go, Mom.” He shoved the bread back into the refrigerator and placed the peanut butter in the pantry. “No time to change now.”

She shook her head, turning away.

He swiped the sandwich and his backpack, and marched to the door. “See you guys later,” he said.

The birds chirped and the late summer sun shone through a cloudless sky. He ate his sandwich as he walked alongside the townhouses, the peanut butter sticking to the roof of his mouth. As he approached the main road through his neighborhood, he saw Sarah ahead of him. He jogged to catch up. She wore red sequined flats like Dorothy from Oz and a blue sundress with white polka dots. She glanced over her shoulder as he gained ground.

“What up, beyotch?” she said with a smile. She flipped her pink satchel to her outside hip to give Carter more room on the sidewalk. It was adorned with a cartoon fairy. Her hair was brushed to the side, a few strands hanging over her glasses. Her face was flawless without makeup, her lips full without lip gloss.

“Not much,” Carter said. He held up his half-eaten sandwich. “You want some?”

“What is that, peanut butter? No jelly?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s gross.”

He took another bite. “Tastes good to me,” he said, his mouth full. After swallowing, he glanced down at her hands. “What’s with the gloves?”

She held up a hand encased in a long white glove that went halfway up her forearm. “It makes me feel like I’m living in a different time. You know, like when people wore top hats and addressed each other as sir and madam, not dude and man.”

“Excuse me, Madam, may I escort you to your destination?” Carter said in his best stuffy voice. “It is improper for a young lady to be unescorted on a public street.” Carter held his arm out like a chicken wing.

She laughed and slid her arm through. “Did you see Ben over the weekend?”

“Saturday at the scrimmage,” Carter said.

She took a deep breath. “Last I talked to him he said he was going to the big football party at some farmhouse.” She pursed her lips.

He glanced at her. “Why, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. I went over to his house Sunday, but his mom said he was sick. And then today, I didn’t see him. Last year he waited on the corner for me every day. I’m assuming you went to the party.”

“Yeah.”

“Did you see him there?”

“Just the back of his head. He doesn’t talk to me, remember.”

She frowned. “Did something happen there?”

He bit the inside of his cheek. “Where?”

“The party, where do you think?”

He sucked in his bottom lip and pressed it out. “Maybe. Like I said, I didn’t see him much.”

“I know the football team has initiations. Two years ago a kid went to the ER for alcohol poisoning.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing as far as I know. He still plays.”

Carter raised his eyebrows. “Who?”

She ignored his question. They watched the red hand on the traffic light across the street. Cars and trucks zipped past, the smell of exhaust in the air.

She turned to Carter. “Did they force you to drink?”

“No.”

She nodded.

“Who was the kid that got alcohol poisoning? You said he still plays.”

“Your boy, Noah. Congrats by the way, I heard you took his position.”

The light flashed
walk
in green. They picked up their pace as they moved across the four-lane road. Carter glanced at the cars, the front ends lurching forward as the three-thousand-pound machines ground to a halt in front of the crosswalk.

“It’s not
his
position,” Carter said.

She glanced at him, her mouth flat. “You’re right, it’s yours. You’re a man of your word, Carter Lynch. You said you were going to take his position and you did.”

“You say that like I did something wrong. Didn’t you say it was a competition, not personal? I worked hard. The coaches didn’t give me anything.”

She pursed her lips. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I’m happy for you. I tend to be cranky in the A.M.”

Carter exhaled. “I don’t think anyone wanted me to have this position.”

She stopped and turned to Carter. He stopped, their arms still interlocked. “I’m sorry for being a bitch. You don’t deserve it.” She shook her head and exhaled, her eyes searching his. “I hate football. Ben’s mad at you over it, putting me in the middle of you guys. Kids get hurt on and off the field. You know, Noah was a nice kid in middle school. It’s like they get on varsity and turn into varsity assholes.”

They continued down the sidewalk, the sprawling brick school looming large in the background.

“Is that what you think is gonna happen to me?” Carter asked.

She smiled briefly. “I like you despite your head-ramming fetish, not because of it.”

* * *

The lunchroom was filled with the buzz of voices, clanging trays, and stomping feet. Carter pushed his tray along the metal counter. Justin nudged in front and dumped his empty tray on the counter.

He turned to Carter. “What’s up man, let me get in line with you.”

They grabbed plates of pulled pork, corn, and fries from the lunch lady and placed the heaped platters on their trays.

Justin smirked at Carter. A large M was shaved into the side of his pale head. “I heard
you
had fun on Saturday.”

Carter was blank-faced. “It was all right.”

“All right?” Justin said with a frown. “I heard you fucked Amber all night.”

“It’s none of your business.”

Justin cackled. “Did she keep those cowboy boots on?”

Carter shook his head, his mouth turned down.

“That body’s bangin’ too, all tan and shit.”

“You’re holding the line, young man,” the elderly cashier said.

Justin turned toward the cashier and closed the gap. He paid for his meal, took his tray off the counter, and moved behind her. The elderly woman took Carter’s money while Justin mimed having sex with her from behind. Laughter broke out among the kids behind Carter. She turned around and found Justin standing still.

She narrowed her eyes. “What are you doing?”

Justin gave her a bright white smile. “Just waiting for my friend, ma’am.”

“Go sit down,” she said.

Justin left as Carter took his change. He scanned the hall for potential dining places. He saw Dwayne, Kevin Lewis, Michael Townsend and other black football players sitting together, with a handful of black girls interspersed. A table of white football players was on the opposite side of the cafeteria. Zach, Noah, and Luke sat among them, with white girls interspersed. There was a table of boys with black clothing and studded belts, with chains slung from their belt loops to their pockets. There were tables of girls ranked in terms of attractiveness. There were tables with Asian girls, Latino boys, and every other racial, ethnic, and gender divide imaginable.
I wish Devin was in my lunch period.

One person sat by herself. Sarah was in a corner, a brown paper bag in front of her. She was sipping from a thermos with one hand, the other holding open a paperback. Despite the differences between the cliques and cultures, most of the kids were similar in their dress, their speech, and their mannerisms. Sarah was the outlier. She looked like she belonged in a café, sipping coffee in some famous European city.

Carter balanced his tray and paced over.

“May I join you, Madam?” he said in his portentous voice.

She glanced up from her book. “Why yes, my good sir,” she replied.

Carter placed his tray in front of her and sat down.

She scrunched up her face. “How can you eat that crap?”

Carter shrugged, picked up a fry, and shoved it into his mouth. “What are you reading?” he mumbled, his mouth full.

She flipped the cover of the tattered text. “
All The President’s Men
by Bernstein and Woodward.”

“What’s that about?”

“You don’t know who Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein are?”

“Should I?”

“Well of course. They were the Washington Post journalists that broke the Watergate scandal. You think football requires courage. Politicians are snakes.”

A hand touched Carter’s shoulder. He turned around to Amber’s pouting face. “I thought we were gonna have lunch together,” she said.

Carter raised his eyebrows. “You never said –”

“You don’t mind if I borrow my
boyfriend
, do you?” Amber said to Sarah, her smile dripping with artificial sweetener. Carter’s eyes widened at the word “boyfriend”.

“By all means,” Sarah said.

“Come on, sweetie,” Amber said, tugging on his T-shirt.

Carter stood and grabbed his tray. “I’ll see you later?” he asked Sarah.

Sarah smirked. “I don’t know, are you allowed?”

* * *

Carter and The North Potomac Marauders took a knee on the dusty practice field in front of Coach Cowan. The players had their helmets off exposing their young faces, some marked with acne, many more with red marks on their foreheads. They had disheveled hair that was wet with sweat. Coach Cowan took off his hat and wiped his brow. His eyes were red, his face stubbly. He placed his hat back on his head.

He glanced around at the players in front of him. “I don’t like what I been seein’ this week.” His jaw was set tight. “On Monday and Tuesday we looked just plain flat. And today, y’all figured out a way to be even worse. If y’all think Washington Heights is just gonna lay down, you got another thing comin’. These guys are the real deal. We might be seein’ them again in the playoffs. If you come out flat on Friday, these guys will eat your lunch. As of right now, I’m puttin’ this entire team on notice. If you’re not givin’ me the type of effort that I expect, I’ll find someone else. Don’t think I can’t do it. We got damn near a hundred kids. If you think you’re somethin’ because you got that black jersey …” he shook his head. “Well, I’m here to tell you that you’re wrong.
Dead wrong
. You’re only as good as your last play. I can replace anybody on this team. And I do mean
anybody
. I don’t care how good the paper says you are.” Coach Cowan paused for effect. “You know what separates the state champions from everyone else?”

“Hard work,” Justin blurted out.

Coach Cowan shook his head. “You gotta work hard, but lots of teams work hard. Most of ’em don’t amount to a hill o’ beans. It ain’t just about workin’ hard. It’s about attention to detail and doin’ all the little things. I expect wide receivers to get those blocks downfield, to come off the ball just as hard on runnin’ plays as they do on pass plays. I expect lineman to play to the whistle. I see too many fat linemen takin’ plays off.” Coach eyed Michael Townsend and his gut. “If you’re so fat that you have to take plays off, you won’t play for me –
period
. I expect running backs to run north and south and finish runs by lowering their shoulders. I see too much god damn dancin’. I expect linebackers to make plays at the line of scrimmage. I see too many arm tackles. I expect defensive backs to lock down those receivers. You should take it as a personal insult if your man catches a single pass. We’re givin’ up too much.

“The bottom line is we’re not playin’ state championship quality football. If this was the best we could do, fine. But it’s not, and y’all know it and I’m not gonna stand around while y’all piss it away.”