Victory Tour (Part 255)

I should have stretched before I started running, but that would have required sitting on wet turf. My tushy was against the idea. So I started slowly and gradually increased my pace as I went. By the time I reached 20, the rain had all but stopped and I was going as fast as I could.

I was past 35 and nearing 40 when Coach Tucker came out to check on me. Or something like that.

"What the heck are you doing out here?" he demanded. "You're supposed to be in Coach Johnson's room."

"I got almost a week's worth of algebra done and Mrs. Stirling let met out for a bit," I gasped. "Figured I could knock these out before athletics."

"Gassers are supposed to be done on your own time, before school or after practice," Coach snapped. "School hours are not your own time, I don't care if you did get permission."

"Yes, sir."

"How many you get?" he asked.

"That should be 37," I said.

"You can do the rest after practice," he said. "Get inside. I need to talk to you anyway."

"Yes, sir," I said, falling in behind him.

"Good thing this isn't a leg day," he carped. "Coach Bennett would be all over your butt for wearin' yourself out first. How's the shoulder?"

"Feels good," I said. "I just wore the sling this morning until Doc checks me out."

I followed Coach into his office, sat in the chair he indicated and waited as he took his seat. I was tempted to ask if I could go get a towel, but the sweat top I was wearing did a pretty good job of soaking up the moisture. I figured I couldn't be in that much trouble if he was making me postpone the last dozen or so gassers until after practice.

"You probably won't see much time at slot this week," he said. "Fernandez and Hernandez can handle the messenger duty and we'll have the JV callups if we need extra bodies. I want you to concentrate on working with the scout team. We've got to get the defense ready to face that offense."

"Yes, sir," I said, not really surprised by the move. I mean, I had one catch for one yard in 10 games. It wasn't like my production would be difficult to replace. Both The Tall One and The Short One had more receptions and yards than I did.

"I want you to tell me about the formation you talked to Coach Sullivan about on Saturday," he said.

"There's really not that much to it," I said. "It's basically just a power set with two tight ends and two wingbacks. Then you can shift to whatever set you want. The big issue is having the proper personnel in there. I don't think you want Ronnell running plays at tight end."

"Show me," he said, handing me a legal pad and pen.

I drew up the formation with seven linemen, two wings and two men in the backfield.

"You can split the ends and wings to our normal set and run our regular offense," I said, handing the pad back. "It's basically the same as the Bearcats' flexbone if you want to run the triple option. You could also go to a Wing-T set just by dropping a wing into the backfield if you want to give folks a different look."

"Probably not this week," Coach mused, "but I see your point. Line up tight every time and see how the defense reacts when we get in a different set. I would like to see Reggie run that bootleg you tried on the last play Friday, though. Where'd you come up with that?"

"It was all I could think of to make sure we didn't score again," I said. "Like I said, I wanted to send them a message. I could have scored if I wanted, but we managed to run the clock out first."

I just sat there as he mulled the possibilities. I have no idea what he'd do with the information, but Reggie would be the one dealing with it.

"You'd better go check with Doc," he said at last. "If he's satisfied, I expect to see you in the weightroom."

"Yes, sir," rising to go.

"One more thing," he said as I reached the door. "Kirsten has enlisted Kinsey and Stephanie in helping her convince Patty to let them have a sleepover at your new house. Be prepared for them to start working on you soon."

"I have no problem with them holding a slumber party there," I said. "I may not even spend that many nights there, anyway, if my mom doesn't calm down. My Aunt Karen's probably going to be the primary resident. She and Aunt Patty can supervise the girls. Maybe I'll invite you and us guys can bunk in the office."

"Go see Doc before you get another 50," he snorted.

I peeled out of the soggy sweat top and hung it in my locker before reporting to the training room.

"You're kinda early, aren't ya?" Doc asked as I hopped up on a table.

"An unexpected benefit of this new program they've got me in," I said. "Mrs. Stirling allowed me out to take care of some things during third period."

"Well, let's see how that shoulder's doin,'" he said, beginning the examination.

The head trainer poked and prodded, had me move my arm around and hold it over my head. The fact I was able to get through it all with no apparent discomfort seemed to earn his approval as the bell ending third period sounded.

"You still need to avoid contact for a couple of days," he grunted. "Come see me again if you have any trouble lifting."

"Yes, sir," I said, hopping off the table.

Since I had a few minutes and was already dressed, I wandered out into the hallway to check the bulletin board. It'd been a while since I'd done that.

The coaches had posted the Daily News article from the last game — the banner headline "Scouts' Honor" stretched over a photo of Morales popping through the line on one of his touchdowns — as well as the bracket for our region. We had the Wildcats at home at 7 p.m. Friday. The winner would get either the Chargers or Bobcats in the second round. I don't think either team won its district, so we should be good there.

The third round, though ... ugh. That part of the bracket included the Trojans, who'd been ranked No. 1 for several weeks now. I could only hope they'd get beat up over the next two weeks. The playoffs often became a battle of attrition.

I looked at the latest state poll story for several seconds before realizing it was from last week. We'd been ranked No. 5. A line in the story said the final poll would be released today for publication tomorrow. The playoffs would determine the final rankings.

Looking from poll to bracket showed the Trojans were the only other ranked team on our side of the regional bracket. One team from the other side was also in the top 10 — the Falcons from out on the plains were No. 9. They were the leading candidates to reach the fourth round, the state quarterfinals. The rest of the ranked teams — like the Eagles, who were holding on at No. 4 after beating us — were in other regions or in Division II.

It'd be interesting to see what changed tomorrow.

When the tardy bell rang, I started moseying toward the weightroom. I had no desire to give Coach Bennett reason to shout at me to get my lazy butt in gear. Not that it'd do me any good. He'd just find another reason, even if he had to make one up. The man truly enjoyed shouting at teenage boys.

Upper-body lifting went pretty well as far as I was concerned, even with the shouting. I was able to complete 10 reps of my target weight for each lift without my left shoulder acting up. That didn't keep Coach Bennett from reminding me that a "minor booboo" was no excuse to slack off. We still had to try to get stronger if we wanted to avoid the shame of being one-and-done.

After weights, we reported to the team room for film study. That was pretty much a waste of time as far as I was concerned. The starting offense ran just two plays, one of which was negated by penalties. The starting defense played two series. Only the regular PAT team, which handled four extra point attempts, and Willie Joseph, who got two carries at fullback in the fourth quarter, saw the field after we went up 21-0.

We didn't even break up into position groups, just watched all together.

Still, there were some things the coaches wanted to cover, like the failed PAT try that still got us a point. At least it gave the scout team a little more time in the limelight. The nine TDs they'd produced were replayed several times with the participants being duly praised for their efforts. Even the scout team cornerback who'd returned that punt on the last play of the first half. He was also reminded to NEVER, EVER, EVER do it again.

I think the main benefit for the starters was seeing they'd better keep working hard if they wanted to keep their spots. The scout teamers proved they could get the job done and might earn more playing time. I noticed Coach Bennett had a few of the trap plays we'd run out of the Wing-T rewound to show the O-line how the blocks were executed.

The only times I received any attention were for the first PAT — I still don't think my hit causing the fumble was that big a deal despite several guys asking to see it again — and the last play of the game when I tossed the ball out of the end zone. Coach Turner had Reggie watch the start of that one a few times to get a look at the ballhandling on the fakes.

"Why'd you throw it away at the end?" the quarterbacks coach asked with a knowing smirk.

"Because I was facing 100 gassers if we scored or got a penalty," I said. "Figured that was the safest course of action and it still sent them a message."

"And what was the message?" Coach McEntire asked.

"That cheap shots are answered with touchdowns," I said. "I could've scored, I just didn't want to. It was time for the cookout. Chuck was gettin' hungry."

That at least got a few laughs. Even Coach Tucker gave it a tight smile.

We were done early enough Coach reminded us not to enter the main building before the lunch bell. He also "suggested" the captains get their final list of music requests to him before the end of lunch.

Somehow, that last bit wound up creating more work for me.

"You need to pick a few for us, dude," Jed said before I could get out of the room. He was holding a clipboard and the other captains were with him.

"Can I pick some?" asked Morgan, who was distributing game plans.

"I don't think Coach'll let us have any Taylor Swift or K-pop boy bands," Jed snorted.

"I'll just let Gary pick for me," my first official girlfriend shot back. "He knows what kind of music I like."

With that, she turned to me with her version on the big-eyed adorable look. Plus dimples. And a game plan.

"It still has to get Coach Tucker's approval," I reminded her. "I can put a few down, but I make no promises."

I silently dared the little elf to try that look on Coach. She might just find herself running gassers with me after practice.

"Let's go to my locker, guys," I said, turning for the door. "Maybe I have something on my phone that'll work."

I thought about what might be appropriate for the occasion as we headed across the hall. It needed to be up-tempo, the kind of music that made you want to hit the dance floor. Guitar-driven, hard rock or rockin' country.

"'Thunderstruck' by AC/DC," I said, entering the locker room.

"Already on the list," Jed said. "Keep goin.'"

"I found another Mark Ronson number," I grinned, "'Feel Right' featuring Mystikal."

"Ain't no way," Marshawn snorted. "We'd all be runnin' gassers before the first mutha... But I like that video. Little shawty gettin' down with his bad self."

Getting to my locker, I pulled out my phone. I had no idea what might be on my recent playlist. It turned out to be quite a lot.

"How about 'Danger Zone' by Kenny Loggins from the 'Top Gun' soundtrack?" I suggested.

"Sounds good," Jed said, scribbling on a sheet of paper on the clipboard. "Keep goin.'"

"Uh, 'Cadillac Ranch' by Springsteen," I said. "Not to be confused with the song of the same name by Chris LeDoux."

"Uh huh," Jed grunted, scribbling and nodding for me to continue.

"'Back in the USSR' by the Beatles, 'Hippy Hippy Shake' by the Georgia Satellites, 'Addicted to Love' by Robert Palmer, 'All Summer Long' by Kid Rock," I read off.

"Got anything else?" Danny Mathis asked as Jed scribbled.

"Nothin' y'all'd like," I said, looking at the screen. "Buncha redneck cracker stuff."

"Try us," Jed said. "Can't be any worse than what Luke listens to."

"OK, you asked for it," I said. "'Walk Softly on This Heart of Mine' by the Kentucky Headhunters, 'No News' by Lonestar, 'Fake ID' by Big & Rich, 'Hillbilly Deluxe' by Brooks & Dunn, 'Copperhead Road' by Steve Earle, 'Baby Likes to Rock It' by the Tractors, 'Promised Land' by Elvis, 'A Little Less Conversation' by Elvis."

I had to repeat a few of those so Jed could get complete titles or artists down.

"Anything for Morgan?" my buddy smirked.

That also required thought. In addition to the above criteria, my choices should be some kind of women's anthems. Or at least songs women liked. I tried to think of music my mom and aunts listened to.

"'Respect' by Aretha," I said, getting a surprised, but approving, look from Marshawn. "'No One Else on Earth' by Wynonna Judd, 'When God-Fearin' Women Get the Blues' by Martina McBride, 'I Try to Think About Elvis' by Patty Loveless, 'Every Little Thing' by Carlene Carter."

"You sure them's real songs?" Reggie asked. "I only heard of the first one."

I again had to repeat a couple of titles for Jed, but they wound up with nearly 20 options to choose from. I doubted more than a couple of classics would make the cut.

"Thanks, dude," Jed said. "Now hurry up and get showered. We're ready for lunch."

That may have been the least surprising part of my day to this point.

Then I looked at my phone again. I had a missed call and voicemail from Dad and a text from Grandma.

The voicemail informed me that the closing had gone off without a hitch — GDR, Inc. now officially owned the Osborne house — and Ed Thackeray of the HOA would try to rein his wife in. Utilities — electric, gas, water and cable — should be transferred to the corporation by the end of the week. I'd have to call the cable provider if I wanted to add Internet. I'd let Karen make the call on phone service. I was good with my cell.

Grandma's text told me she was shopping for furnishings for the house, but I needed to send her a list of things I needed/wanted. She'd also consult Karen, but didn't see her baby girl getting moved in this week. They still had to get Karen's stuff from her apartment back east shipped out here. I replied that I would swing by the house after practice and try to compile as complete a list as I could.

That's life, I thought as I stripped for the shower. One job gets done and another one pops up before you can catch your breath.

I hurried to shower and still do a good enough job not to be offensive during the afternoon. I had to go to Chemistry for lab, after all. I still managed to get washed, dressed and out the door before the bell rang. Bet that wouldn't happen too many times as long as we were in the playoffs.

Morgan, of course, was waiting for me.

"Did you request any songs for me?" she asked in her too-sweet tone, hooking my arm and steering me toward the main building.

"A few, all by female artists," I said. "It's still up to Coach, though. Tell me, how'd you and Elise manage to get into Independent Study?"

"Pretty much the same way you did," she said. "Dr. Stirling asked if I'd be interested in it. I did the math and figured I could finish junior year before the end of January, then get enough senior credits to graduate over the rest of spring and summer school. I'll be able to start college next fall."

"When did he ask you?" I asked.

"Yesterday afternoon," she grinned. "He said it'd be a good idea to have another girl in there after Elise got accepted."

"And how did Elise get accepted?" I asked.

"You'll have to ask her, but I think blackmail was involved," Morgan giggled. "She talked her mom into agreeing to oversee it. Then it morphed to include the other football boys who applied to graduate early. They've all made their commitments, but are waiting until we're done playing to sign their letters. Coach Tucker has tentatively scheduled a signing ceremony for Dec. 19. That's a Wednesday, bytheway."

I could see how they would've been added. Dr. Stirling obviously felt a need to have more than just me and his daughter in the same room all day, even if Mrs. Stirling served as chaperone. I guess it was his way of saving face.

I didn't really care how many others there were, even if the two girls were among my girlfriends. I just wanted to do as much as I could over the next six weeks to graduate in December. It wasn't like I was going to try to fuck them during school. That's what weekends were for.

The serving line was rather backed up since we were earlier than normal, but moving steadily. That just gave Chuck a chance to remind me to get the hot plate instead of a burger. They were serving chicken strips today and we could get extra from Miss Carla.

"Least ya could do after makin' fun o' me like that," he growled.

"Did I lie?" I smirked. "We were all gettin' hungry."

"Still, dude," the left guard pouted. "Not cool."

In the interest of fostering team harmony, I got chicken strips. Besides, I needed Chuck's help for Economics. Might oughta stay on his good side.

The kink in Chuck's grand plan was Miss Carla wasn't there today. The lady taking her place, who was apparently the same one who'd done so when the Johnsons accompanied our party to the appeal hearing last month at the state association's headquarters, steadfastly refused to dish up extra. We could come back for seconds if we wanted, but she had to make sure everyone else got served first.

We congregated at our regular table with Elise and Riley joining us. Good thing a couple of guys sat with their girlfriends at another table. Andrew Pearson and Vi Ochoa appeared to still be quite enamored with each other.

"What'd we do in Economics this morning?" I asked Chuck, who sat close enough to snag my tray if I got distracted.

"Went over that reading and got started on the next chapter," he said around a bite of chicken. "The whole lecture was about how the reading relates to stuff in the chapter. I'll get ya my notes at study hall."

"Any homework?" I asked.

"Nah, but we'll probably get some tomorrow," he said. "I already worked a few problems at the end of the chapter just in case."

Riley didn't have anything on Western Civ — she had it in the afternoon — but filled in me and Elise on what to expect in the Chemistry lab. And, if form held, we could expect a pop quiz or homework assignment over the material tomorrow.

The guys who'd attended English IV this morning said they'd just started reading the first act of "Hamlet." Dr. Robinson hadn't necessarily lectured, but made comments on a few passages that at least one of them thought to write down. The five of us in Independent Study agreed to start reading as a group after lunch and go over notes in study hall.

That left me just Algebra II and Creative Writing to chase down. I'd already done almost all the math problems and could get with Cody in study hall. Prof. Silverberg was supposed to see me this afternoon, taking care of CW. Looks like things are going as smoothly as I could hope.

Then the table fell deathly silent as guys stared at something behind me.

I turned to see Rhonda Devers stomping toward me with a very disapproving look on her face. What now?