“I showed them his picture you sent me, and they’re all nervous. If all else fails, Lizzie Towson will take one for the team and go with him.”
I threw a face. Lizzie was the girl I rode in the limo with from our big road game and to Jennie’s home. She was the one with a questionable moral character.
“Has she been to the clinic recently? I wouldn’t want Mike bringing anything back home,” I said, as Mike pulled my tablet out of my hand.
“Tami, show me the picture David sent,” Mike demanded.
She made a production of looking for it. She acted as if she finally found it. She held it up to the webcam. It was Mike’s sixth-grade school picture. The poor guy went beet red. I bolted for the door with Mike in hot pursuit. I was laughing too hard for him not to catch me. He gave me a shove into a locker and we both started laughing. He finally caught his breath.
“You got me good with that one. I’ve been wondering if something was wrong with me for the last few weeks.” He thought about it for a moment. “Those shits Jeff and Jim are in on it, aren’t they?”
“Yep, from the get-go. We couldn’t help it once Tami showed me your sixth-grade picture. Damn, that was a bad hair day.”
Mike had thought it would be cool to have a Mohawk. He got some of his mom’s hair gel and went to town right before the picture was taken.
In the end, Tami refused to reveal their dates. It was going to be fun to find out who their mystery dates were. I already knew that Jeff was going with Janet Hill, the daughter of Mr. Hill from the newspaper flyer ads. Jeff was going to be one lucky boy because Janet was a great girl. She made a point to come to most of my jobs for her dad, and we were becoming friends. I was confident that Tami would find fun dates for all of them.
AFTER LUNCH WAS THE class I had been dreading, PE, and the long swim. Coach Engels had the swim-team boys go in the first group. There were 10 lanes, so our class of thirty would go in three equal groups. I think the swim boys wanted to lock up the competition before it even got started. What they didn’t count on was that the lower-rated swimmers wanted to make names for themselves.
From the start, four freshmen pushed the pace. Coach Engels was talking to me about strategy.
“If you’re going to have a chance, you need to swim at a consistent pace. You have to have enough to power through to the end. I predict that the rabbits are going to mess up the pace for the rest of this group. It’ll hurt their times in the end.”
We both could see the seniors take up the challenge and come roaring back on the upstarts. By the end, they were dying out there. The time I was shooting for was the third slot for an ‘A,’ and that ended up being fifteen minutes and thirty seconds. To do this I’d need to beat my best time by fifteen seconds.
The next group was all recreational swimmers. The best time for the group was sixteen minutes and nine seconds.
From the start, I fell into my zone and just swam my race. My height helped with my speed. If you’ve ever noticed, world-class swimmers are tall. Michael Phelps is six-four. Towards the end, I was a full pool-length ahead of my closest competitor. Even the swim team was cheering as I powered through the last length of the pool. In the end, I came up short. My time was fifteen minutes and forty-five seconds. I had a chance for an ‘A’ if I could do well tomorrow and if one of the three in front of me slipped up.
When I got out of the pool, the swim-team members looked nervous. At the first of the year, I’d planned to go out for swimming. When I left for my next class, I felt I still had a chance to get an ‘A.’ I was disappointed because I knew I would’ve gotten an ‘A’ in my conditioning class.
I WAS IN MY OWN WORLD between classes when I was startled.
“Hey, David,” came Tracy’s sultry voice from my left.
She fell into step with me, her sprayed-on jeans hugging her every curve. Damn, I loved this girl. One look and I forget my name.
I smiled wildly as I remembered the kiss she gave me this morning. I was horny with a capital ‘H’! Her perfect body needed some attention. I wasn’t normally like this, but I pulled her into an empty classroom and planted a kiss on her to remind her that I loved her. At first, she pushed on my chest, but she came around to my way of thinking quickly.
“Wow, David, what got into you?” Tracy asked as she recovered from our lip-lock.
I pulled her in close so she could feel the steel rod that was in my pants. Tracy’s eyes got big and she wiggled against me to let me know that she was interested.
“Baby, you keep that up and I’m going to molest you right here. I’m going to talk to the doc tomorrow. You be ready for me when I get home.”
The look she gave me made my knees go weak.
“I’m just horny. Don’t let me push you. I love you too much, and I actually know what to do to make this problem go away.”
I waggled my eyebrows as I made a hand motion in front of my fly. She swatted my arm and we hurried off to class. She put her hand in my back jean pocket and gave my butt a squeeze. Did I say I loved this girl? You bet I did.
SINCE WE FOUND OUT about Mom’s cancer, we started to have family dinners on a more regular basis. We also invited more people to eat with us each night. Tonight was no exception: Tracy, Tom and Mary Dole were all there, along with Mrs. Anderson and Beth, making it ten.
One of the side effects of the chemo was Mom had lost her appetite. Angie had read an article that said that marijuana helped, so Greg had scored some for her. It was weird knowing that your religious mother was in the bedroom getting high. As a family, we decided we needed every advantage, and her not eating would only weaken her more.
The other side effect was she was losing her hair. I found her Sunday, quietly crying with a handful of hair in her hands. It still wasn’t noticeable, but we all knew that the day was coming when she would need a wig. I held her until she was feeling better. I couldn’t imagine what my poor mother was going through. I tried not to think about it because the 20% chance figure kept circling around in my mind.
Tonight Mrs. A and Mary Dole had combined to make the feast. They hit on an Italian theme, and we were having lasagna from one of Mary’s dad’s recipes, made with chopped-up meatballs. Mrs. A was in charge of salad, garlic bread, and dessert. She had made my mom’s favorite: cherry cheesecake with white chocolate sauce. We’d all died and gone to heaven. These two women could cook.
After we ate, Greg unbuttoned his pants to give his gut room.
“Angie, honey, talk to these ladies and learn their secret. Good golly that was good.”
Angie gave him a kiss. We all knew she was learning and was going to be a fine cook in her own right.
“I keep waiting for Tom to mess up so I can steal Mary. She’s hot like her daughter, and can cook as well as Mrs. A.”
I knew I had stepped in it as soon as I said it, and Tracy, Beth, and Angie threw their napkins at me.
“I have my eyes on you, boy,” Tom said, and Mary winked at me behind his back, causing everyone to start laughing.
Tom looked around confused until he saw his wife flirting with me. He grabbed her and she squealed. Everyone was in high spirits.
“What’s up with these two?” Dad asked as he indicated Tracy and me.
Beth made a gagging motion.
“I know, it’s sickening. I get jealous when they start making eyes at each other. They’re now the ‘perfect couple.’”
She made little air quotes.
“I’m going to make you all a little sicker.”
I got down on one knee, and heard Tracy gasp as the room went dead silent.
“Tracy Dole, you make me the happiest man in the world. I have a question I need to ask you that’ll make me complete: will you go to Amelia Island with me?”
She looked at me in stunned silence. I wasn’t sure what everyone was thinking I was going to ask, but apparently, that wasn’t it.