RUNNING BACK

Chapter 17: Paparazzi and Pandora's Box

I run to the women's locker room to change and pack my gear. The cheerleaders were in there when I was suiting up, but it's vacant now, thank God. No one to gawk at me in my Nike Combat boxer briefs. No one to speculate about my sexual orientation.

I'm so excited about the win that I forget about the fact that I'm socially awkward. I haven't been this happy in as long as I can remember. I walk out of the locker room on top of the world remembering the last moments of the game, and especially the moment where, somehow, someway, I prevented eleven from catching that ball.

I stop short when I hear Coach Carson and Cash's daddy in a heated conversation. They don't notice me. I retreat back inside the doorway and listen.

There is rage in Mr. Carson's voice as he talks to his brother. "Cash is mentally prepared for this. He's worked his whole life to get to this point, and no colleges are going to look at him if you have some dyke and a black wannabe showing him up on the field. That boy can play all kinds of backs—fullback, halfback, cornerback—anything but quarterback. That girl needs to stay on the bench. Or in the kitchen. As a matter of fact, I'd just as soon put both of 'em back in the kitchen. What are you runnin' here, a circus?"

"Listen," Coach says calmly. "I'm trying to give him a shot. But he has to work on his passing. I want him to succeed, but he has to put in the work."

"The passing's not the problem. He's the best player you got out there. It's the receiving that's the problem."

Coach Carson raises his voice. "My receivers cannot be held responsible for Cash throwing interceptions. Cash does that all on his own!"

"They could position themselves better. You could position them better. I got you this job, let's not forget that. I can find someone else who will do the job if you can't."

"Listen, I'll do what I can. But Cash has gotta step up."

"Cash isn't the problem. He needs a team with the same level of talent he has. It's your job to bring the rest of the team up to speed. And you'd better get 'em there soon."

Cash's dad storms off toward the parking lot. Coach stands there briefly, shaking his head in frustration before he walks in the other direction, down the corridor toward the field house

I scan the lot. Beto Ramirez and Louie Diaz are already with their girlfriends and the linebackers are sitting in the bed of Payne's Dodge Ram, blasting rap music. Jack and Little are hanging out with the cheerleaders. Ooompa Loompa is all over Jack like mold on month-old bread. The offensive line, Baker, and Nolan are milling about near the drill team.

Then I see my sister.

She's backed up to Cash's truck. He's leaning over her with a sly grin on his face. I'm not sure where to go, the pit in my stomach of not fitting anywhere a familiar presence.

Save another option, I sit in my car and wait for my sister. In a strange way, I'm less alone by myself in that car than I am out among the throngs of students.

I glance in the rearview mirror. I see that familiar face smiling at me. I'm not alone at all. Pax stops smiling. There's concern in his eyes.

Where do I go?

"Why are you still here?" I whisper, gazing at his reflection.

I don't know where to go.

*****

I wake up on Saturday with a strange feeling in my stomach. Not empty, really. But light. I'm looking forward to the day, and I'm not sure why. The sun is beaming though my window, and my family is moving around in the kitchen. Mom is probably unloading the dishwasher, and someone is making eggs and bacon. It smells like home.