Bama Boy (6 page)

At that, Jimbo looked up. His face was only inches from mine, and as I gazed into his blue eyes, it occurred to me that this topic of conversation wasn’t accomplishing its purpose at all.

“And what do you think?” he asked softly.

“I—I don’t know,” I stammered in confusion. “I—”

“Hey, Jimbo! Tracy!”

Deep in our own conversation, we hadn’t noticed the beam of light emerging from the edge of the woods until Richie appeared, still carrying the empty bag.

“Hey, Rich! How many snipes did you catch?” Jimbo spoke as calmly as if we’d been discussing nothing more significant than the weather.

“Not a single one,” Richie said, throwing the empty sack into the cab of the truck. “That’s why I came back. I don’t think there are any snipes out there. And then I figured out why.”

“Oh yeah?” Jimbo asked, grinning from ear to ear.

“Yeah! They’ve all gone south for the winter. That explains why you used to catch them in Alabama, but there aren’t any here.”

Richie seemed so pleased with his knowledge of the migratory habits of the snipe that it seemed almost as shame to disillusion him. Almost, but not quite. When I explained the joke, he was understandably insulted, and it was left to Jimbo to coax him into a happier frame of mind.

“Look at it this way,” Jimbo said, clapping Richie on the back. “You came into these woods a boy, but you’re goin’ out a man!”

“Gee! You really think so?” Richie asked, much impressed by this speech.

“Shoot, yeah! Where I come from, snipe hunt’n’ is a part of growin’ up. Best of all, now that you’re in on the joke, you can play it on other kids.”

Richie was so thrilled at the prospect that he forgot to be insulted, and climbed happily into the truck for the ride home. Jimbo swung himself up into the driver’s seat, leaving me sandwiched between them. It wasn’t the seating arrangement I had hoped for. After all the weird things that had passed between Jimbo and me tonight, I’d wanted to put a little more distance between us. But the short ride passed uneventfully, and soon we were home. Richie bounded out of the truck and up the porch steps. I turned to follow him, but Jimbo called me back.

“Hey, Tracy, aren’t you forgett’n’ somethin’?”

“What?” For one crazy moment, I wondered if he expected me to kiss him goodnight.

“You’re wearin’ my hat,” he said, making me feel like a fool for the second time that evening.

I took off the yellow cap and handed it to him. As he took it from me, his fingers brushed the makeshift bandage crisscrossing my palm.

“You be sure and wash that up good when you get inside,” he reminded me.

“I will. And Jimbo—”

“Hmm?”

“Thanks. For everything.”

“Hey, don’t mention it. Who knows? Maybe someday I’ll need you to rescue me.”

“Yeah, sure,” I said with a skeptical smile. “That’ll be the day.”

Then I turned and followed Richie into the house.

“Never in a million years, huh?” Maggie said as she squirted ketchup onto her hamburger. “Boy, time sure flies when you’re having fun!”

“No, Maggie, you’ve got it all wrong,” I said firmly. “Love has nothing to do with it.”

“Oh, come off it, Trace! You light up every time he walks into the room.”

“Do I really?” I asked, horrified.

“Like a neon sign.”

“Oh, no!” I groaned, covering my face with my hands.

“I think it’s romantic,” Maggie sighed. “There you are, lost in the woods, and he comes charging to the rescue like a knight in shining armor!”

“Yeah, sure. Sir Galahad with a bad accent.”

“I don’t know about that. I think Jimbo’s Southern drawl is kind of cute. Can you imagine that voice whispering sweet nothings into your ear? Wow!”

Since I’d spent the weekend doing very little else, I chose not to answer that question.

“If I was lost in the woods and a good-looking guy came to my rescue, I’d fall head over heels,” Maggie continued.

“
You
would, maybe, but not me. When I fall in love, it’s going to be with someone who’s brilliant and witty and handsome and—”

“Jimbo is witty and handsome,” Maggie pointed out. “Two out of three isn’t bad.”

I looked down at my plate and toyed with a forkful of mashed potatoes. “Actually, I was thinking of patching things up with Anthony. The sooner I get Jimbo out of my system, the better off I’ll be.” I opened my purse and pulled out a sheet of notebook paper. “Now, I’ve made a list of all Anthony’s good points—”

Maggie snorted. “That’s probably the shortest list in history!”

“No, it isn’t. I’ve already got six items. Seven, if you count having a healthy self-image.”

“I didn’t know arrogance was a positive trait,” Maggie said dryly.

“I’m going to post this on my mirror to remind me what a wonderful guy Anthony is,” I continued, ignoring the interruption. “And right beside it, I’m going to put a list of all Jimbo’s bad qualities.”

“
What
bad qualities? I think Jimbo is adorable!”

“So do I,” I said miserably. “That’s why I’ve got to make this list.”

I made the list during study hall, and by Saturday night I could recite it from memory: Anthony was handsome, well-dressed, intelligent, well-respected by everyone (everyone except Maggie, anyway), and had a promising future and, of course, a healthy self-image.

Jimbo, on the other hand, was dirt poor and not very bright. Furthermore, he talked like a hick, refused to study, and might or might not have cheated at physics. Any girl would have to be crazy to prefer Jimbo over Anthony. If I didn’t know better, I would swear I must have landed on my head when I tripped on that root.

I skimmed over the list one more time as I prepared for my date with Anthony. Tonight he was taking me to Chez Bienville to pay off his bet. The night I had worked so hard for had finally arrived, but there was no joy in it for me. I had won the bet, but I had also developed a major crush on my pupil in the process. Somehow I had the uneasy feeling that the joke was on me.

I smoothed the wide ecru lace collar of my new pink sweater dress, which I’d bought just for the occasion with the money I’d made tutoring Jimbo. I had just stepped into my dress shoes when I heard a knock on the door.

“I’ll get it,” I called down to Mom in the kitchen. “It’s probably Anthony.”

I turned back to the mirror just long enough to tuck a stray lock of hair back into my upswept chignon, then headed downstairs to answer the door.

It was not Anthony. It was Jimbo, staggering backwards as if reeling from a blow. “Wow! What are we studying tonight? I can hardly wait!”

I was annoyed to feel my face grow warm, and I knew I was blushing. “
You
are studying snipes with Richie and his friend Todd.
I
am studying French food with Anthony,” I said in a light, bantering tone totally out of rhythm with the pounding of my heart. “Come on in. Richie ought to be down any minute.”

Jimbo stepped into the living room, and I closed the door behind him. When I turned back to face him, he was staring at me as if he’d never seen me before.

“Jimbo? Is something wrong?”

He shook his head. “Tracy, you look good enough to eat!”

“You like the dress? You should; you helped pay for it.”

“In that case, can I borrow it on prom night?” he asked with a mischievous grin, while I tried desperately to remember the list taped to my mirror upstairs.

Anthony arrived a few minutes later, debonair in a gray pinstriped suit. What was the matter with me, that well-dressed Anthony left me completely unmoved, while the sight of Jimbo in his signature faded jeans and yellow cap was enough to set my heart racing?

“What are you doing here?” Anthony asked, eyeing Jimbo suspiciously.

“I’m goin’ snipe hunt’n’ with Richie and a friend of his,” Jimbo answered. “Wanna come along? Todd might let you help him hold the bag.”

Jimbo glanced at me as he spoke, and I looked quickly down at my shoes, knowing that if our eyes met I would start laughing. Fortunately, the joke was lost on Anthony.

“I’ll pass,” he said. “I’m taking Tracy out tonight. Anyway, I thought you’d be home studying.”

“Did you? Whatever gave you that idea?”

“Let’s just say some of us have to work a little harder than others,” Anthony said pityingly.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Tony. An eighty-eight in physics isn’t bad.”

“That’s
Anthony
! And no matter what grade I make in physics, at least I’ll have the satisfaction of knowing that I came by it honestly. I wonder if everyone’s conscience is that clear.”

Jimbo’s jaw tightened, and his blue eyes took on a hard gleam that I had never seen in them before. Instinctively I stepped between them and laid a hand on Jimbo’s arm.

“Anthony and I need to be going,” I said, looking up at Jimbo with pleading eyes. “Take care of Richie tonight, and remember to keep an eye out for psychotic killers. I hear the woods are full of them.”

“I’ll do that,” Jimbo promised, his expression softening as he looked down at me.

Richie chose that moment to burst into the living room, eager to be on his way. Jimbo, once again his easy-going self, went with him as far as the door, then turned back.

“Anthony, you’re supposed to be a pretty smart guy, aren’t you?”

Anthony shrugged. “So they say,” he said with a modesty he didn’t really possess.

“There’s a problem that’s been botherin’ me for a while now, and I just can’t figure it out. There’s these two guys, see, and one of ‘em’s smart, and the other one’s dumb. Then there’s this girl, and she’s smart too, and real pretty. Are you followin’ me so far?”

“Perfectly,” said Anthony through clenched teeth.

“Good. Now, one of these guys dates this girl on Saturday night, but he doesn’t get to see too much of her on weeknights, ‘cause she’s gotta tutor the other guy two nights a week. So here’s my question: which of these guys is smart, and which one’s dumb?” Jimbo gave Anthony a friendly pat on the back. “Think about that while you’re eat’n’ your snails,” he said, then turned and followed Richie out the door.

* * * *

“For an unarmed man, Jimbo mounts a pretty mean offensive,” I remarked as we drove to the restaurant.

“He’s offensive, all right! As if you’d ever look twice at that Tobacco Road tomcat!”

“Now who’s being offensive? You’re the one who practically called him a cheater to his face. And while we’re on the subject, let me remind you that ‘that Tobacco Road tomcat’ is a guest in my house, just as you are, and I’ll thank you not to insult him!”

“All right,” he said, controlling his temper with an effort. “I’ll admit, I was out of line. I owe you an apology.”

“Jimbo is the one you should be apologizing to,” I muttered, although I knew there was no chance of that happening.

Soon we arrived at Chez Bienville, and Anthony took my arm and led me inside. The maitre d’ led us through the crowded dining room to a table near the window. Looking outside, I discovered that the restaurant was situated on top of a hill, so we could gaze down at the lights of town twinkling like diamonds below us. Beyond the city lights lay a dark wooded area, and I couldn’t help wondering if Jimbo was somewhere out there tramping through the woods.

Since Anthony had taken three years of high school French, I let him order for both of us, which he did with a flawless accent. Everything Anthony did was flawless. I suppose it would have been terribly attractive, if only it weren’t so nauseating.

I had intended to put Jimbo out of my mind for the rest of the night, but I found myself trying to picture him in a place like this. I had to smile at the thought. It was certainly a far cry from the Sears store.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Anthony said, reaching across the table to take my hand. “That’s the first time I’ve seen you smile all evening.”

“I was just thinking of the snipe hunters. I wonder how they’re doing.”

“Probably not very well,” Anthony said smugly. “Snipes are not native to this area.”

“Jimbo is very well aware of that,” I said. “It’s a joke. They’re going to take Todd into the woods, and while he’s holding the bag, they’re going to leave him there.”

The smugness vanished from Anthony’s face. “Then, when he suggested that I hold the bag—”

“Exactly.”

“I don’t like that guy, Tracy. I don’t like the way he looks at you.”

“How—how does he look at me?”

“Like a kid looking in a candy store window,” Anthony said bitterly.

I mumbled something about it being just his imagination, but my heart beat faster.

“Tracy, what is he to you, anyway? Ever since he came on the scene, it seems that all we do is argue. I don’t want him or anyone else to come between us,” he continued. “I want us to go steady.”

I couldn’t have been more shocked if he’d gone down on one knee and proposed marriage. I had never been serious about Anthony, and I had assumed that he felt the same way about me. I had told Maggie that I meant to patch things up with him, but I never meant to patch them up
this
well.

On the other hand, maybe this was exactly what I needed. If I went steady with Anthony, that would close the book on Jimbo forever. Wasn’t that what I wanted? Then why did I feel like a trapped animal?

“I—I don’t know, Anthony. This is so—so sudden,” I stammered, just like a reject from a B movie. “I’ll have to think about it.”

I did think about it. I thought about it throughout the meal and all the way back home, and when Anthony walked me to my front door, I was no closer to the answer than I had been when he first asked the question. I closed my eyes as he bent his head to kiss me goodnight, but as his lips met mine, Anthony’s handsome face disappeared, and instead I saw a tall suntanned boy in a yellow cap.

“Tracy Brock, have you gone stark raving
loony
?” Maggie demanded.

“Shhh! Everyone’s staring,” I said, glancing around at the bustling cafeteria.

“Can you blame them? Just last week you had to make a list to convince yourself you liked him at all! What happened? And don’t try to tell me you fell in love overnight, because I won’t believe it.”