Twenty-Five
Trudy
The Beacon sat on the table in the teachers’ lounge Friday morning.
The alleged gay rights protest had beaten out news of Princess Grace’s funeral and had made the front page next to the headline: MOODY EVADES QUESTIONS ABOUT SCHOOL RIOT.
She’d seen the photo that morning when Leta Pearl expressed concern about Trudy’s need to maintain her petite figure for the wedding.
Meechum walked in, got his coffee, and was most certainly about to mock the surprised look on her face when that reporter had asked about the “protest.”
“Go on,” she said, preferring to attack the subject, head on, before he did. “I know what you’re gonna say.”
He grimaced, confused.
“You’re going to tease me about this picture. Or say something about my hair or ask why I’m holding an empty punch glass. Go ahead. I can take it.”
Meechum cleared his throat. Looked at the paper. Perused the image. “You don’t like this picture?”
“No. It’s terrible. I mean, look at me. I’m telling you; these political things are just ... not where I belong.” She let out a heavy sigh.
Coach Meechum stood, walked over to the cabinets next to the fridge and returned with scissors and an Elmer’s glue stick. He wedged his quarterback-sized fingers and thumb into the scissors, started chewing his bottom lip. He focused, rather intently, on clipping Trudy’s photo from the Beacon .
“Don’t most serial killers do that in private?” Trudy asked. “Sort of defeats the purpose when I can see you.”
Shug kept scissoring.
“And I hope you don’t hide the bodies in the park. It’s not only cliché, but the cops always find them there.”
Meechum kept his eyes down, his bottom lip between his teeth.
He smeared some of the polyvinyl acetate on the back side of her photo.
He pulled out the Sports section, where, in his photo, he flashed a rare sideline smile, probably snapped just moments after a Bruins touchdown.
The discarded front page of the Beacon revealed a hole next to Haskel where Trudy used to be.
“Oh. God. I’m your next victim, aren’t I?”
“Nope.” Meechum stuck Trudy’s cutout, glue side down, next to his picture on the Sports page, giving it a rub to ensure it stayed. “There.” He grinned. “Where you belong.” He spun the paper around for her to admire his work, then stood up, replaced the glue and scissors, and refilled his coffee.
Trudy shook her head. “Do you mean where I belong as in, next to you at the football games? Or as in, not a campaign rally?”
He sipped his coffee then cleared his throat. “Yes,” he said, and smiled, then stepped toward the door.
She opened her mouth to respond, but he was gone before she could find the words.
The cheerleaders, Trudy hoped, had moved past being angry for missing the Wheeler game.
The question now was whether they had forgiven one another after the incident in the cafeteria.
This afternoon’s hour-long bus ride to Pickwick, Alabama wasn’t something Trudy looked forward to, especially if it meant a busload of tension between Dee Dee and Carter.
Trudy had planned to use the time on the bus to grade quizzes. When she showed up in the parking lot, however, Mr. Jones said their usual bus was broken down. “Nothing to worry about,” he said. “We’ve got the two small buses. The band can take one, and y’all can take the other.”
“Oh,” Trudy said. “But who’s driving?”
Mr. Jones smiled and tossed her the keys. “Anyone can do it,” he said before promising to drive slow and to not leave her behind, for which she was thankful since she had no idea how to get to Pickwick.
Trudy stared at the gear shift as if willing it to befriend her. She’d driven a stick once, back in high school, and it hadn’t gone well. She turned the ignition and the bus lurched, bouncing pom-poms and cheerleaders in a jolt. “Sorry!” she said. “Everybody okay?”
“We’re fine,” Faye called.
“Hang on, y’all,” Trudy said. “Let’s try again.
” This time she remembered to press in the clutch and the bus started up just fine, but then she let it out too quickly, and they all bucked again.
In the other bus, Mr. Jones flashed an okay sign.
She flashed one back and forced a smile.
In fits and starts, she jostled the cheerleaders out of the parking lot as if they were all riding a big yellow rocking horse; clouds of dust billowed around them.
The only real casualty was a Faculty Parking Only sign taken out by one of the oversized side-view mirrors.
Along the way, Faye, Rejoice, and Carter laughed as if on a roller coaster at Opryland.
Vangie, bless her heart, tried so hard not to break her cool demeanor, trying to hide that she was gripping the seat in front of her.
If Dee Dee had rolled her eyes any harder, they’d have spun out of her head and into oncoming traffic.
Patty, Milly, Sandy, Elsie, and Nonnie all turned green; they’d lowered all the windows, but it was too humid out to help.
Thirty minutes into the journey, after much shaking and bumping, Trudy decided she would simply do rolling stops at intersections; she’d keep the bus in gear, spare them all the mayhem.
Mr. Jones had clearly forgotten his promise not to leave her behind.
Trudy floored it, determined to catch up—as he coasted through the yellow light.
A blue Dodge Charger came screeching into the intersection like Ponch and Jon from CHiPs were on his tail, swerved, and missed them by inches.
Trudy jerked the wheel, careening through the red light as the cheerleaders screamed bloody murder, clutching seatbacks, pom-poms, and each other like they had just been hijacked.
The carsick cheerleaders demanded Trudy pull over and once she did, they flooded off.
Nonnie and Elsie vomited first; violent streams of yellowish slop full of gummy bears, Doritos, and Tab poured out of their throats and splattered onto the roadside.
It didn’t take long for Patty, Sandy, and Milly to join them.
Passersby looked on in horror as the spindly teenage girls seemed more like frat brothers on Bid Day.
Trudy sat in the driver’s seat until all the girls stopped throwing up and reclaimed their seats. Poor things, she wondered if there was anywhere to stop on the way to get mouthwash.
“We’re going to miss another game, aren’t we?” Dee Dee said.
“No, Dee Dee.” Trudy said to her in the rearview mirror. “We are not.”
“You almost got us killed.”
“Probably her plan,” Vangie added.
“Girls!” Trudy spun around to face them. “No one almost got killed for God’s sake, and don’t go making up stories again.” The last thing Trudy needed was another one of Dee Dee’s exaggerations spinning its way to the Huntsville news. “Do y’all know how to get to Pickwick?”
“There’s only one way in and out,” Faye said. “It’s that road right by the river. You know the one, Miss Abernathy, it feels like sometimes you might just drive right over the cliff into the water.”
That didn’t make Trudy feel better.
Eventually, they came to a T-bone dead end.
The burrrr of cicadas filled the bus once it came to a stop in the middle of the intersection with no signs of life anywhere, a clue that they were headed in the wrong direction since plenty of Bruins fans should’ve been on their way to Pickwick along with them.
“Which way do y’all think?” Trudy asked. Fifty percent odds, she noted.
Rejoice cleared her throat. “Left.”
“No,” Dee Dee said. “I’m sure it’s right.”
Rejoice stayed cool. “I really think it’s left , Miss Abernathy.”
“Really?” Dee Dee asked. “You’ve been to Pickwick, Alabama? I didn’t think anyone out this far could afford hired help.”
“Dee Dee Beaumont!” Trudy locked eyes with the head cheerleader in the rearview mirror. Until now, her strategy with Dee Dee’s hurtful remarks had been to ignore them, the way she was taught to handle bullies, but this was too far. “Apologize.”
Dee Dee shrugged.
“Now,” Trudy demanded, turning to face her. “Or I will take this bus right back to Bailey Springs.”
“Assuming you know the way.” Dee Dee’s lips turned into a white slash.
“Dee Dee Beaumont, I am not moving this bus another inch until you apologize.”
Faye piped up. “Dee Dee, you’re just being this way because June Bug ignored you today.”
Dee Dee’s mouth dropped open. “That’s none of your business, Faye Moore.”
Faye stood. “It’s my business when you start ruining everybody’s Bruins Spirit because of it.”
“Girls!” Trudy turned off the ignition and stood.
“I have had it up to here!” Good grief, she’d become such an adult.
“Faye. Sit down and mind your business. Dee Dee. Apologize to your teammate or so help me God, I will sit right here in the middle of nowhere until we all die of exposure. Or better yet, I will drive this bus right into the Tennessee River!”
The entire squad looked at Trudy and blinked.
Faye sat slowly and everyone looked at Dee Dee, who rolled her eyes and then flicked her chin toward Rejoice. “Sorry.”
Rejoice raised her eyebrows but said nothing.
“Rock! Paper! Scissors!” Carter hollered out. “C’mon Faye, you be right, I’ll be left.” The two faced off, one fist clenched in each of their palms.
Dee Dee and Rejoice stayed put, arms crossed, avoiding one another’s gaze.
“One! Two! Three !” Faye said.
“Paper covers rock!” Carter wrapped his winning hand around Faye’s fist. “Left it is, Miss Abernathy.”
The bus lurched and rocked forward and then lurched and rocked left.
The sun was near setting, so Trudy flicked on the headlights, then looked down at her watch: 6:48 .
Twelve minutes until kickoff. Trudy kept thinking they would see the glow of stadium lights, but they didn’t, and they didn’t seem to be anywhere close to the river.
They had to be going the wrong direction, and the gas gauge showed less than a quarter tank.
Trudy realized, however, she’d forgotten to check how much they’d started with so she had no idea how much she’d need to get back to Bailey Springs.
“Miss Abernathy!” Faye hollered. “Lights up ahead!”
Trudy’s prayer for a gas station had been answered.
She told the girls to stay put and walked inside where a large man with a long Jesus beard and hair past his shoulders, dressed in camouflage from hat to toe, pointed Trudy in the right direction.
Because of the hair and the hat, Trudy couldn’t tell if he was smiling or frowning or plotting to store her beheaded torso in a deep freeze with game carcasses in the back.
But the worst part was, Dee Dee had been right all along; they should’ve gone right.
The busload of cheerleaders rocking-horsed into the Pickwick High School parking lot, a half-hour after kickoff, coming to a stop with one final jolt next to the empty bus that had carried the band.
In all four directions lay nothing but thick Alabama woods, as if a high school and football stadium had been accidentally dropped in the middle of a pine forest.
All night, Milly, Nonnie, Elsie, Patty, and Sandy had to sit on the sideline while Trudy ran back and forth to the concession stand for 7Up and wet paper towels.
Vangie and Dee Dee scowled and half-assed their cheers.
But Rejoice and Carter, with Faye smiling along with them, won the crowd over with their signature partner stunts and hip thrusting moves just like at the first game.
Bailey Springs’ victory was the one glimmer of the night.
After the game, Rejoice offered to drive home. “I’m really good at sticks.”
Trudy looked at her in amazement. If she hadn’t been so happy to not have to drive that bus again, Trudy might have strangled the poor girl. “Why the hell didn’t you say something on the way here?”
Rejoice shrugged. “Students aren’t allowed to drive the bus.”
“Screw that,” Trudy said, and she definitely wanted to strangle her, but she hugged her instead.
“Hey!” Shug’s voice came from behind. He was panting, having run to catch them. “Burgers.”
“What?”
“The Booster Club brought a bunch of McDonald’s for the team. If y’all want some, too ... for the trip back.”
“Um.” Trudy scratched her ear, suddenly hungry. “Thanks.”
Trudy looked back to the squad. They’d all stopped and were watching intently.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Meechum said.
Trudy turned back to face him.
“You know. Where you belong.”