Victory Tour (Part 260)

Chuck and I loaded up and were soon on our way. I don't know if it was because of the weather or something else, but there wasn't a lot of traffic trying to get out of here today.

"What'd you do to get in trouble with Morgan?" the left guard asked, seeming unaware that Elise was officially part of the equation now. "She looked ready to jump down your throat and had reinforcements."

"Aw, you know how it is every now and then," I said. "Sometimes you're wrong just for being male. I bet you've had a few days like that with Kelli."

"One week a month just like clockwork," he snorted. "Which is better than the alternative, I guess. Both our moms would go ballistic if I got her pregnant before they're ready."

"Use protection," I advised, turning onto the street in front of school.

The crowd at Cookshack wasn't as bad as I feared, but it was busy enough we didn't park right next to the door. The serving line was just long enough to give you time to make up your mind and maybe think about dessert, but I didn't need to think too much. Brisket and beans would get me through the afternoon.

"Get extra," Chuck said when I asked for a quarter pound.

"I bet we can make that happen," Earl grinned, slapping half a pound on each of our trays. "Seems the least I can do after Miss Millie offered to invest. Y'all want any sausage? Got two pounds of the venison in from Bud this mornin.'"

Chuck didn't need any more encouragement and I accepted a chunk, figuring I could get a to-go box for what we didn't finish.

I was pulling out my debit card to pay when I heard a familiar voice behind me.

"Hey, there's my yard guy," Dad said. "If I offer to buy your lunch, think you'll be available on Saturday? Give it one last goin' over to get it ready for winter. You can even bring your friend, here. He looks like he might be able to do a little work."

"Hey, Mr. Robinson," Chuck said. "Saturday sounds doable, but I'm not sure my friend'll be available. He has a habit of gettin' banged up on Friday nights when work's planned for Saturday."

It took me a bit to realize Dad, who was closely followed by Grandpa, was talking to Chuck, not me. You'd think they'd rehearsed a comedy routine or something.

"Well, since I'm not supposed to play much offense this week, maybe I'll make it through Friday in one piece," I said. "But I'll gladly let Mr. Robinson buy our lunch."

"Why aincha supposed to play?" Earl asked. "Ya hurt or didja do somethin' stupid to get in trouble?"

"Nothing like that," I said. "They've got me quarterbacking the scout offense this week. The Wildcats run the Wing-T and Coach Tucker doesn't want any of the real quarterbacks operating under center."

"And the startin' D is makin' bets on who can hit ’im the hardest without gettin' 50 gassers," Chuck laughed.

"So, what are you boys doin' off campus today?" Grandpa asked as Earl loaded up two more combo plates.

"I was going to get Chuck to help me with an Economics assignment," I said. "Figured it'd leave me more time for other subjects if I finish it today. What about y'all? This is the wrong side of town for you to just have lunch."

"Wanted to show Becky and Earl a couple of locations," Dad said. "Got a corner lot near downtown that might work. It's in a fairly high-traffic area."

"Lemme get through the rush and we'll be right with ya," Earl said.

"No hurry. It'll give me time to remind this one," Dad said, nodding at me, "to check in with his mother once in a while. Let her know he's still alive."

"It's only been about 34 hours since she last saw me," I said. "She knows I'm house sitting for Arlene this week. How're things at the Osborne house?"

"It's comin' along," Grandpa said. "Got my chair delivered this mornin,' at least. Your grandmother's supposed to be out spendin' more of your money as we speak. That credit card barely had time to cool off after what she spent yesterday."

We took our trays to a group of tables in the middle of the dining room that would allow space to work on the Economics assignment as long as we didn't have too many folks come in. But barbecue took priority over homework at the moment.

"Where'd ya get the new duds?" Grandpa asked as we tucked in.

"They handed ’em out in athletics today," Chuck answered for me. "All the guys who lettered for the first time got one. The rest of us just get a new letter with another stripe."

"So, which of your girlfriends are ya gonna let wear it?" Dad smirked.

"Haven't got that far yet," I mumbled around a chunk of brisket. "Most of ’em already have their own, anyway. Even Morgan got one this morning. If she thinks she can take mine, I'll take hers."

"I'd like to see that," Grandpa snorted. "I bet the sleeves don't even come past your elbows."

"Those girls take enough of my clothes," I grumped, thinking I'd sleep in the jacket if I had to.

"Guess I'll have to dig mine out," Dad mused. "Let Claire wear it to the game Friday night."

"Make sure ya check the pockets," Grandpa said. "Millie wore mine to a Buchanan game once and found a note from a gal I went out with my senior year. Apparently, it'd been in there since 1967 and survived a couple of trips to the dry cleaner. Almost didn't make it out of the stadium alive that night."

Guess I'll have to get Grandma to tell me her version of that story one of these days. Might oughta wait until she cooled off about me fucking Chanda, though.

It turned out I didn't need a to-go box. All three of my dining companions speared meat off my tray as I raced to consume enough to sustain me. I was surprised Chuck didn't object to Dad and Grandpa poaching bites. Guess he was used to competing with the other linemen for my food. Good thing Earl had loaded me up with extra.

Soon enough, Economics books were pulled out and Chuck showed me which questions we had as Grandpa went to see about getting some coconut cream pie. I hope my grandfather had some kind of workout program. No telling how much weight he'd put on now that he wasn't doing all the farmwork.

We got enough of the assignment done to be able to finish in study hall. There were five problems that required graphs and five questions regarding the results of the problems. Those answers could be found in the book.

"You boys better be gettin' back to school," Dad said as Becky and Earl came out to hear about proposed locations. "And check in with your mother."

"Yes, sir," I said, loading everything in my backpack, glad I hadn't gotten barbecue sauce on any of my schoolbooks.

Grandpa followed us out, saying he needed to get back to the Osborne house. He hadn't had time to try out all the features on the new recliners. The heating pad and massage functions sounded interesting.

He also had some advice for me.

"Might wanna avoid beddin' any more of Kay-Kay's friends when your grandmother's over at your house," he said quietly enough that Chuck didn't hear. "Gotta admit, though, she's a keeper. But ya need to save somethin' for football."

"Yes, sir," I blushed.

We returned to school in time to avoid any trouble. Chuck hurried off to his next class while I reported to the team room to inform Mrs. Stirling of my plans. I needed to turn in my Algebra II assignment and hit my locker to grab enough graph paper for Economics.

"Don't dawdle," the superintendent's wife commanded as she filled out a hall pass.

"Yes, ma'am," I said.

I exited the team room to encounter Morgan and Elise. Their moods had not improved over lunch. If anything, they seemed to have worsened.

"Don't you ever do that to me again!" Morgan snapped as Elise again provided backup.

"What?" I asked, totally confused. I mean, I'd been gone less than 45 minutes.

"Leave me to deal with those brutes alone on meatloaf day," Morgan spat. "I had to go back for refills twice because of you. The lunch ladies must think I'm some kind of glutton."

This was getting out of hand, I thought. And I'd still had a good portion of my lunch taken, anyway.

"I'll have a talk with the guys," I said.

"You can bet on it," Elise smirked. "Jed said you're going to have to make it up to them. He was almost as bad as Morgan about it."

I just shook my head. If the guys couldn't handle a slight deviation from their routine, it didn't bode well for a long playoff run.

"Look, I've got to hand in an assignment and get back before Mrs. Stirling thinks I'm off foolin' around," I said. "We can talk more this evening."

"I'll deal with Mom," Elise said. "You get going."

The tardy bell rang before I reached the southeast entrance. One good thing about it was there was no traffic in the hallways. Mr. Henderson was still taking roll when I stepped into the room.

"What can I do for you?" he asked after confirming Zoe Yeats' presence.

"Just need to turn in my homework," I said, pulling the appropriate notebook out of the backpack.

"How many did you get done?" he asked.

"The whole chapter," I said, getting a gasp and a few groans from the class.

Mr. Henderson took the notebook and looked over my work, nodding appreciatively as he flipped through the pages.

"Looks good so far," he said. "I'll hang onto this and grade it. You can pick it up tomorrow. The test will be Friday like normal. I'll get a copy to Mrs. Stirling."

"Sounds good," I said. "I'll check with you tomorrow."

I exited the classroom as Mr. Henderson got the class started and headed for my locker. I was passing by the office when the authorities busted me.

"What're you up to, Robinson?" Dunwoody growled menacingly.

"Just need to get some graph paper out of my locker, sir," I said, holding up the hall pass. "Then it's back to the fieldhouse before Mrs. Stirling puts out an APB on me."

"Where'd ya go for lunch?" the principal asked as he examined the pass. "Buncha folks in the cafeteria almost didn't know what to do without ya there."

"I took Chuck Edwards to Cookshack so we could work on an Economics assignment," I said. "That's why I need the graph paper."

"So that's why your little girlfriend was terrorizin' the O-line," he snorted. "Thought that gal was gonna wipe out the two-deep chart, the way she was orderin' those boys around."

OK, something wasn't adding up here. Dunwoody's account of events sounded vastly different from Morgan's.

"I'll have a word with her, sir," I managed to say.

"Good luck with that," he snarked. "Ines thinks you must keep her chained up in private to get her to behave. Can't all be because of your charm and good looks. Get movin' before I have to deal with Mrs. Stirling."

"Yes, sir," I said.

I didn't even make it to my locker before more shit happened. Mrs. Edwards flagged me down as I passed her room.

"I wasn't expecting to get your essay so fast," she said. "If I was the suspicious type, I'd think you just copied and pasted something."

"I assure you, it was all my work," I said. "I did use some online sources for research, but I did all the typing."

"I could tell," she snorted. "I don't think I've ever seen a scholarly paper blame 'overbearing mothers' for the methods employed to place their child on the throne."

"What's this about overbearing mothers?" Dr. Robinson, coming out of the English IV classroom relatively nearby, asked from behind me.

"Just a line I put in an assignment for Mrs. Edwards," I said. "Did you get my assignment for English?"

"Yes," Karen said. "Although it wasn't much of a stretch to claim the Melancholy Dane suffered from depression. At least you gave reasons."

"What's he doing out here?" Mr. Hennings snapped, stomping up from the other side. "He's supposed to be in ISS."

In case I haven't mentioned it, I was starting to get real tired of dealing with this man.

"You're the second faculty member who's mentioned that to me today and I still haven't been told about it," I said, staring him dead in the eye. "I'm sure Mr. Dunwoody would've mentioned it to me when he stopped me two minutes ago."

"Watch it with the attitude, mister," Hennings started.

"Or what?" I smirked, cutting him off. "You'll send me to ISS? Tarnish my precious permanent record? Think you'll ruin my future by keeping me from getting into a good college?"

"Gary," Karen said in a warning tone.

"Who did I take a call from at lunch yesterday?" I continued, maintaining my focus on Hennings. "How many high school kids do you know who get calls from people like that? Did you know he visited my house over the weekend? Not my parents' home, my house. Pretty sure my future's secure with or without college."

"Thought I told you to get back to the fieldhouse, Robinson," Dunwoody boomed as he joined the fray.

"I got waylaid by faculty members," I said. "Mrs. Edwards wanted to talk to me about a Western Civ assignment and Dr. Robinson had some comments about an English assignment. Then Mr. Hennings felt the need to join in for some reason."

"This is the second day in a row I've had to intervene ..." Hennings started.

"No," I growled, cutting him off again, "this is the second day in a row you've seen the opportunity and decided to jump in. Why don't you try getting your facts straight first? You haven't even asked to see my hall pass. I'm not in ISS, I'm in Independent Study. I had an Algebra II assignment to turn in to Mr. Henderson and I'm now trying to get to my locker to get some graph paper for an Economics assignment. Tell me what rules I've broken."

"Don't give me that look," Hennings started again.

"Then get out of my sight," I snapped, cutting him off for the third time.

"That's enough, Robinson," Dunwoody snarled. "Get your stuff and get back to class before I intervene."

"Yes, sir," I said, fighting hard to regain control of myself.

"He's been spending too much time around his grandfather," I heard Karen mutter as I walked away.

"Who's his grandfather?" Mrs. Edwards asked.

"A man who'd still be arguing and keep at it until he won," Karen said. "He's run Buchanan County for nearly 40 years. Some of the folks out there don't miss him very much, from what I've heard."

Finally reaching my locker, I stuffed the entire package of graph paper into my backpack. I did not need to go through that kind of shit every time Mr. Cochran made an assignment.

Not wanting another confrontation, I headed down the West Wing to avoid going past the office again. Fortunately, the door to Mrs. Rittenberry's room was closed. Wish that'd been the case with Mrs. Edwards. Would've saved me dealing with more shit.

And more shit seemed to be on the horizon when I returned to the team room.

"That took longer than it should have," Mrs. Stirling said as I returned to my seat near an electrical outlet. "The period's nearly half over. I was just about to call the front office about you."

"Maybe you should," I said. "And when you do, make sure to ask Mr. Dunwoody how many teachers delayed me. It seems some think I'm supposed to be in ISS and don't like that I'm not. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got some assignments to work on."

My tall girlfriend's mother didn't seem too pleased with my attitude as I started pulling out books, but left me to my work. I was able to finish the Economics and Chemistry assignments by the end of sixth period and spent most of seventh reading Act II of "Hamlet." My mood remained dark as Hamlet's mental state seemed to unravel further. At least I'd never shown up at one of my girlfriends' doors half-undressed and raving like a lunatic.

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are introduced and asked to keep an eye on Hammie. Then some Norwegian dudes inform the usurper king that Prince Fortinbras has been told not to fuck with the Danes, but needs to travel through Danish territory so he can fuck with the Poles. Polonius finally gets to complain to the king and queen about Hammie's behavior toward Ophelia, then gets roasted by the dude out in the hallway.

I made notes about that part. There might be something I could use next time I had to deal with Hennings. It'd be interesting to see if he recognized the insults. Fishmonger sounded like a good start.

There were maybe 10 minutes left in the period when the other guys started making their way to the locker room to get ready for practice. I loaded up my stuff and followed them. Coach Tucker would cut us even less slack than normal if we were late after spending the whole afternoon in the fieldhouse to begin with.

Between them, Doc and Trapper got all five of us taped before the rest of the team and student staff showed up. I dressed out, glad Coach Rogers had distributed long-sleeved undershirts, and was on the field stretching as coaches and manager brought out gear for the afternoon.

My mood was still foul as I mentally reviewed my duties on the scout team. We were supposed to get deeper into the Wildcats' playbook, including the toss sweep.

If the starting D wanted to see how hard they could hit me before being punished, we'd just see how they liked me hitting them.