Chapter 14Charlotte Lane
Chapter 14
The Lone Coach
December
Charlotte Lane
T he last home game before school was out for Christmas break would be crazy. And Charlotte was about to try to win today’s match alone. Wade had taken over and done most of the football coaching through the season, and she’d mostly just kept the stats. But tonight she’d be the one yelling.
Mr. Halls and Wade were running the semifinals for the debate team. No more standing on the sidelines. She’d have to do something besides watch this time. She’d be in charge.
Dread worried over her. She felt like this was the first game of the year, not almost the end of the season.
The last couple of games, Charlotte had worn her letterman jacket and yelled “good job” a few times, cheering when one of her team ran the right way. But she never really understood what was happening.
She wasn’t looking forward to halftime when she’d be alone, trying to read Wade’s game plan for the second quarter. The players would go into the locker room and she’d wait by the doors. It was already getting too cold to stand outside. The only thing she was looking forward to was her first football game alone being over.
Teddy had continued walking with her to her classes, telling her all about the sport. And the minute Charlotte entered her classroom every morning there was Miss Ollie, the home economics teacher.
The plump woman would stand up from Charlotte’s borrowed chair as if she was going to make an announcement. And she always did. “I thought I’d better come up here and give you some tips. I had four brothers and all of them played football. So, I probably know more about the game than Mr. Halls, but he’ll act like he knows it all. Rule number one: Never stop yelling. Around here, football is war. Not just some game like soccer or baseball. Everybody in town will be watching you tonight.”
This morning, Charlotte had taken a long breath and confessed, “I know nothing about football. I’d never even seen a live game before I came here. But tonight, I’m sure the boys are going to fight like lions.”
Miss Ollie began to pace as she preached. “No one really knows anything about football; they just act like they do. Unless they’ve played the game for years, they just yell at the boys to do what they can. I’m sure you know the basics. Catch the ball and don’t get tackled. But I wrote a few more rules down for you that most of the men don’t know.”
She handed Charlotte a packet of papers.
“Rule two: Don’t ever let those boys see you or their teammates cry. Teddy does, almost every game, so just whisper to him ‘Don’t cry.’ That’s all you can do and then let him sit on the bench until he calms down. Not sure why that boy’s so emotional.
“Don’t worry, most of these boys know how to play. Their parents started teaching them before they came to school. They’ve been playing with their dads and brothers and uncles since they were little kids.
“So, rule three: If one of your players gets the ball, tell him to run. They should know which direction. And if the other team gets the football, make sure your guys knock them down. Like I said, they should know all this but sometimes they forget.”
Charlotte nodded, trying to figure out which of Miss Ollie’s rules to follow.
“The first thing you do when you walk on the field is tell them all to warm up. They’ll get going. Just keep yelling, ‘Do what you’re supposed to do.’ ” Miss Ollie turned toward the door then spun back around. “Oh, and if one of your players gets a little yellow flag for a penalty, run up to the ref and tell him he’s wrong. They’re always wrong. That’s what they say on the television. And at the end of the game, tell the boys to huddle up and that they fought hard and did great whether they win or lose. From then on, the boys will stop worrying about football and keep their eyes on the cheerleaders anyway. That’s all I know.”
As Miss Ollie walked out, Wade marched in. “You ready? First day of coaching alone. You’ll be great.”
Charlotte shook her head. “No, I’m not ready. I still don’t know much about this game. And I’m more confused now than I was before Miss Ollie read me her rules. I don’t know what to say or what to do, and now Mr. Halls asked me not to forget to walk the sideline in case anybody gets hurt. I keep telling people I’m not that kind of doctor.”
“Don’t worry. If there’s an injury, just wrap the boys up and send them to their parents. Believe me, every parent will be there and most grandparents. They’ll want to take care of their boys,” Wade said.
Charlotte worried about the football game all day long, and by the time she had to walk out onto the field she thought she might pass out. But she’d come to Crossroads to start over and try new things. To live. She kept walking steadily to the rhythm of Miss Ollie’s rules for the game.
As Charlotte slipped on her letterman jacket with COACH LANE printed on the back, she felt like a fraud. She was a fraud.
She walked up to Wade and pretended she might be able to do this. Only, looking like a head coach was a long way from being one.
“Good luck, Coach.” Wade nearly shouted. “In the classroom you’re Dr. Lane but out here you’re the head coach. You’ll be fine.” Then he leaned in and whispered, “Who knows if there will even be another game after today. Just do your best.”
He walked toward the debate semifinals being held in the school’s small auditorium as she turned to the field.
When she was asked to go out for the coin toss to see which team would start the game, she whispered to herself, “It’s time. Let’s play some ball.”
It seemed like when the coin touched the ground, everything happened at once. Her team rushed onto the field, and she began running up and down the sideline, yelling, not even sure what was going on or what to say. She made a point of telling her players to catch the ball. To run toward the end zone and to not get tackled.
She didn’t have time to look at her watch. She had to keep moving and yelling and telling the boys they were doing great. Now and then she pointed at one of the refs and reminded him that he was wrong.
At halftime the boys went to the locker room and she sat outside and waited, hoping she wasn’t dead yet.
The second half of the game seemed over in minutes. Like Moses parting the waters, she finally heard the last whistle and the game was over. Her players ran into the locker room again, and the parents and students in the stands collected their junk and headed to their cars.
She slumped onto a bench as a slow rain began to fall and darkness seemed to move over the field one yard at a time. She didn’t even know who’d won the game. Everything was a blur.
The numbers on the scoreboard had seemed to bounce back and forth. All of her energy was drained. And like a storm passing over her, everything was suddenly silent. Everyone was gone but her.
Charlotte watched a shadow moving toward her and heard Wade’s voice say, “You did great. We finished the debate half an hour ago and I caught the last few minutes of the game.”
Charlotte didn’t protest when he slipped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in closer than usual. He steered her to the street heading toward her house. “How you feel, Coach?”
She couldn’t answer. She felt like she’d lost all of her words while yelling during the game. She was exhausted and numb and relieved it was over.
They got to her house and without a word he took the key from her hand and unlocked the red door, leading her inside. He wrapped her in the blanket thrown over the back of a rickety armchair and led her to the ancient couch in the corner of the room. Then, he turned to the fireplace and started to light it. “You did good, Charlotte. You survived.”
As the blaze sparked in the grate, her eyes filled with tears. She didn’t even know why.
She’d done it. Lived outside the pages of her books and tried something new. Something daring. Something that had felt impossible.
Wade came to the couch and sat, lifting her feet onto his lap. He pulled off her shoes one by one, letting them plop to the floor. “There’s no more games. You didn’t make the finals this year, so the season’s over. You don’t have to coach football again.”
She managed a nod.
He shifted, leaning over her and rubbing his hands along the blanket covering her arms. “You cold?”
“Mm.” Charlotte shook her head. She was too numb to be cold.
He kissed the top of her head, still wet from the sudden rain she’d barely felt. “You hungry? I’m not really in the mood for beer and nachos, but I can whip something up.”
“I’m not hungry, period.” Her stomach still churned from the adrenaline she’d felt during the game.
“That’s fine. But you’ve got to eat something, especially if all you’ve had is that salad I saw you picking at during lunch.”
He got up to inspect the kitchen. She didn’t have the energy to tell him that she’d cleaned out Mr. Biggers’s pantry and now her kitchen had crackers and only two cans of soup. But a few moments later he walked back to her carrying two steaming bowls.
They ate in a comfortable silence, neither saying a word. When they finished, she leaned her head on his shoulder, his fingers lightly tracing her back. Before she fell asleep, she thought she heard him say, “You’re one hell of a woman, Charlotte.”
Her last thought before she drifted off was that she didn’t want to coach football ever again. She’d lived enough of that story to last her a lifetime.
When she woke up at dawn, Wade was gone, but she saw a note written on part of a paper towel. It read Don’t forget. Today is Saturday, Coach. Get some rest. Good game last night.
Charlotte came fully awake, trying to remember. “Did we win?”
No answer in the silent room. She looked down to find Baylor staring at her as if she had stolen his bed. She didn’t have the energy to appease the cat.
Like a tree, she tumbled, face-first, back into the blankets and didn’t move the rest of the morning.