Waiting on the Sidelines (5 page)

In the past, I attended Coolidge High football games wearing my brother’s old Bears shirt, cut-off shorts and flip flops. But for some reason, I couldn’t seem to settle in on how I looked. I was uncomfortable in my own skin. Of the dozen or so combinations of outfits I tried, I kept coming back to the black-and-white tank top that tied around my neck and the hip-hugging denim shorts. Pulling my hair up into a loose ponytail, I let a few strands fall at the nape of my neck, slightly curled from the humidity. I would be comfortable outside in the desert for the evening, but wouldn’t need to worry about climbing over washes. I stuck with the converse shoes, sockless, so I could navigate my way through the dry brush and rocks at the party as well as climb the bleachers for the game.

I heard Sarah’s sister honk the horn out front and I ran out to the living room, kissed my mom and dad and grabbed my overnight bag. I was spending the night at Sarah’s house, or at least as soon as we got home from the party that’s where I’d be. My parents never would have let me wander around the desert in the middle of the night with a bunch of older boys, never mind the fact that there would be alcohol there. I felt a tinge of guilt at my cover up, but the desire to break the rules for once in my life was too strong.

“I’ll be home before lunch tomorrow, ok?” I said, holding the door a crack open as I was leaving.

“Have fun honey!” my mom yelled from the kitchen.

As I made my way down the steps of our porch and heard the crunch of the gravel under my feet, I felt the weight of my lie start to lift. I had made it, and I instantly started busying myself with how my night was going to go. I remembered the words Reed had written…
pretty, he thought I was very pretty.
I had read that part of his letter at least 100 times the night before. I had tucked it carefully in my jewelry lock box when I was done, afraid that someone might find it and throw it away. I never wanted to lose that letter.

As we rounded the corner of the main street in town, Sarah’s sister Calley turned the radio up full blast. She was on the dance team and listened to a lot of hip hop music, which was not known for its quiet, subtle language. The students that had gathered early for the tailgate party were walking around the parking lot, sitting on the hoods of cars and in the beds of pickup trucks. As we pulled in and found a spot near the exit, heads started to turn in our direction, no doubt thanks to the F bombs blaring from Calley’s car. She turned the ignition off, pulled down the mirror on her car’s visor and touched up her lipstick. Finally, with a kissing sound, she flipped the mirror back up and kicked open her door.

“Let’s go rule this shit, bitches!” she shouted, followed by a “wooooooo!”

Calley had a way of making you feel like the party started when you arrived, as long as you were with her. Twice suspended for fighting, she had a tough reputation. But she was also gorgeous. Calley and Sarah’s dad was from Cuba. He had defected to the United States and met their mother when she was working at a diner in Miami. Her father refused to let them marry, so they ran away to Arizona. They’ve been married for 18 years now, which I guess goes to show that overprotective parents don’t always know best. Anyhow, the Perez sisters had the most beautiful bronzed skin, light brown hair that fell down their backs in waves and curvy bodies built for dancing. I think that’s why they both excelled so much at performing.

Sienna and I stepped from the car and shadowed our bolder leaders. When we reached the field, Sienna walked to the far entrance where the band was meeting up. She was nervous about her first time marching and playing an instrument at the same time. I didn’t want to crush her spirit, but I was pretty sure most of the people in the stands tonight would be standing in the snack bar line during her performance. They were here for football, not the arts. I was starting to pull my wallet from my purse to pay for my game ticket when Calley grabbed my arm and shook her head.

“Sister, we don’t pay. Come with me,” she said, leading me by the hand along with her sister. We walked over to the snack bar and I watched as Calley leaned in and whispered something into one of the guy’s ears. He smiled and she kissed his cheek. In seconds, he rounded the building and was holding the back gate open for us.

The stands were already getting crowded and our team hadn’t even left the locker room to take the field for warm ups yet. The Bears had won their first two games, both away. This was their first home game, and the first home game with a Johnson at quarterback in a few years. We were playing East High School from Yuma, which is on the other side of the state about four hours away. Their travel busses lined the alleyway behind the away stands.

We climbed the middle section of the bleachers and found a seat near the press box at the top, making for a perfect back rest. We were just getting settled when we heard the speaker crackle and the announcer welcome the visiting Lions from East. The band started to play then and the cheerleaders were standing two-girls-high in the end zone, holding a banner for the team to run through as they entered the field. Sarah was watching them intently, I think waiting for one of them to fall. She had made the junior varsity cheer team, but was an alternate for varsity should anything go wrong.

Just as the announcer finished “…your hometown Coolidge High Fighting Bears,” the team burst through the banner that read ‘Go, Fight, Win!’ I saw Cole and Devin right away. Reed wasn’t far behind. His helmet in one hand as he side-skipped towards his two friends and bumped into them mid-air in some masculine show of pride. The team circled up in the middle of the field and broke out into lines to start their stretching. You could hear the group of almost men counting down each stretch from blocks away.

The stands were full. There wasn’t much else going on in Coolidge on a Friday night, and high school sports were about as elite as it got, given the hour-plus drive to any of the college or professional teams in the state. Calley had left us to save our section of the bleachers while she went to the snack bar for some sodas and candy. Left on my own, I don’t think that I would have been able to guard our section from the aunts, uncles and cousins that were quickly filling every spare inch of bleacher. Sarah, thankfully, had no problem shoeing away unwanted neighbors, though she did let a few junior and senior boys sit close enough to her that their knees touched her shoulder blades (part of her plan, I was sure).

Calley was climbing back up to our seats with her arms full of drinks and snacks, which I’m sure she managed to convince the freshman boys working the concession area to give her for free. I was reaching to grab two of the sodas to help her free her hands when I noticed Tatum was tailing behind her. Catching my breath a little, my hands stuttered just as Calley was letting the cups go, and I reacted by squeezing the two Styrofoam cups together, spilling about half of the contents of each (Dr. Pepper, I was pretty sure) on my lap.

I was not surprised when Tatum started laughing uncontrollably at my clumsiness. “Oh my god! You dumped, like, that entire thing on your shorts!”
She’s really good at the obvious, I thought.

Smiling with my lips closed tightly, I shrugged my shoulders and stood up. The soda that hadn’t soaked into my shorts was now slowly dripping down the fronts and insides of my legs. I was now aware of the stickiness. Just as I bent down to hand the still salvageable sodas to Sarah, I heard Tatum giggle to Calley and whisper “pathetic!”

I immediately felt ashamed. I am not sure why. I slid along the front of Calley and Tatum. “I’ll be right back,” I said, looking Calley square in the eyes, half saying “sorry.” She gave me a sympathetic look in return, knowing that I probably heard what Tatum had said in her ear.

“Don’t worry, we’ll hold your seat,” she yelled as I made my way down the bleachers. In some ways, I felt as if she was trying to reassure me that I was still cool in her eyes and that she wasn’t agreeing with whatever beef it was Tatum seemed to have with me.

As I made my way to the restrooms, I looked at the field as the captains were walking out to toss the coin. Since the captains were all seniors, Reed was standing on the sidelines, jumping up and down, psyching himself up for the game. I started to walk quickly hoping no one would realize the dark wet denim that was starting to chafe my legs. The football restrooms were tiny, and there was a line wrapping around the fence. Knowing I would have to wait for several minutes, I just kept walking. I knew I could get in to the gym through a side entrance and make my way to the women’s locker room.

The lights were off when I found my locker. Twisting the combination, I unlocked the door and felt through the piles of T-shirts and socks for my practice shorts. I had only worn them once this week, and while they were plain and cotton, at least they were gray and wouldn’t clash with my shirt. Once dressed, I felt my way around the corner to the sinks where I was truly in the pitch black. I managed to find the paper towels and rip a few feet off to wet and wash the stickiness from my thighs.

I was rounding the corner back out to the field and saw Tatum standing in line at the concession stand. She was talking to another group of girls and pointing to our area. As I got closer I heard her tell them that she was with her friend and a bunch of freshmen, so they’d make room.
Great, more of them.
I kept my head down as I passed a few people behind her so she wouldn’t notice me. I made my way back up to our seats with only a few minutes left in the first quarter.

“What’d I miss?” I asked Sarah, pointing to the 7 points our team had put on the board.

“Nolan, Reed is uhhhh-maaaazing!” she said, more excited than I had ever seen her at a sporting event.

“Oh yeah? How so?”

“OK, so the other team had the ball first, and they were really close to scoring and then one of the guys on our team, defense, right?” she asked. Sarah’s knowledge of sports was amusing. “Anyway, our guy caught the other quarterback’s pass in the middle of the air and then started to run it back to our side. He was tackled somewhere in the middle. Then Reed came out and threw the ball three times. Three times! That was it, and we scored!” Sarah gushed.

“Wow! I guess there’s something to that Johnson hype, huh?” I said, my inner-self still giggling a bit at my friend’s very colorful game commentary.

We sat silent for a few minutes while the clock counted down. Just as the whistles were blowing to signify the end of the quarter, Sarah turned to me with a bit of a sly smile on her face.

“Whaaaaat are you up to with that look?” I asked.

“Nothing,” she said, plainly. “I just… I just get why you’re so into him, that’s all.” And at that, Tatum snapped her head in our direction and stared at me. I turned my head to look down at my shoes and bend down to pretend to fix a shoelace. Tilting my head up a bit at Sarah, I reminded her that we were just good friends.

“Yeah, right. You’re friends. But you totally want more,” she said, leaning into me. I could feel Tatum’s stare burning into my cheeks, but I refused to turn and acknowledge it. I just gave Sarah a half-hearted smile to satiate her and end the conversation. I knew Tatum was claiming Reed as hers, at least romantically. And I, of all people, was not a threat to her.

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We ended up beating Yuma East 49-14, and Reed ended up making plenty more amazing plays. Twice, he ran the ball in for a touchdown himself. I heard one of the older men sitting near us comment on his size and how he was bigger than his brother was when he was a freshman. It was fascinating to hear what these complete strangers knew about him, almost as though they were scouting him well in advance for their future fantasy football drafts.

There was a lot of excitement leaving the game, as a line of cars poured from the parking lot, with honking and hollers from open windows and convertibles. Almost everyone seemed to be headed to the desert party, as we followed pickups and Jeeps to a mile post off the highway to turn down a dirt road. The air was thick with the dust being kicked up and the car shook and bounced along the uneven path. We finally turned off into a hidden camping-type area that was marked by a red sweatshirt tied to a cactus.

We parked next to a tree and got out to stretch our legs. We followed a few of Calley’s friends who had pulled in just ahead of us as they walked a few yards towards a wash. You could hear the thumping of music from someone’s car stereo and, as my eyes adjusted, I started to focus on the 50 or 60 people gathered around some old picnic benches and large rocks. A few of the pick up trucks were backed up to the seating area and were filled with coolers of various alcoholic beverages. The informal rule seemed to be that if you were drinking alcohol, you needed to bring something to share, as I flipped open one of the coolers and found a mishmash of wine coolers, vodka, tequila and assortments of other liquor clearly swiped from parents and, more likely, the town’s various gas stations and convenience stores.

I was starting to panic, as every cooler contained only alcohol, when I finally flipped open a small one with two or three water bottles inside. “Found it!” I said, grabbing one and holding it over my head triumphantly. I grabbed one for Sienna, shut the lid and slid the cooler to the back of the truck, hiding it in case we might want more later on in the evening.
Not that water was of an interest to anyone else that was there.

The party was pretty dull for the first 30 minutes while people just formed small groups and stood around talking. Sienna and I sat on the table of one of the benches just behind Calley and Sarah, who were talking up two upper classmen that they had been flirting with during the game. Jokingly, Sienna leaned her plastic water bottle sideways for me to ‘clink’ and say cheers. We laughed at our very unhip, straight-edge humor, and I caught Tatum rolling her eyes as she walked up to Calley.