Twelve
Trudy
Legend had it that somewhere along the fifty-yard line at Bailey Stadium lay the exact spot where General James P.
Bailey had wrestled a bear and won. But Trudy had always wondered, if Bailey killed the obviously pathetic bear—why had the people of Bailey Springs nicknamed their team the Bruins?
Shouldn’t they be the Generals? Or the Bear Killers? In the legend, the bear lost.
Nevertheless, Trudy stood outside the stadium wearing her more appropriate blue blouse with high-waisted, orange-and-khaki plaid trousers. Pete clutched one hand while she held their tickets in the other. Leta Pearl followed close behind.
High expectations for June Bug Moody’s senior season meant standing room only, but for Trudy, the mania was a cruel reminder of the first night Jimmie had played for Bailey Springs, the energy almost identical.
It was easy to hate Jimmie for what he did to her, but his demise wasn’t entirely his fault; Trudy knew that.
Living in Tupelo, Jimmie’s father was a drunk and one night, hit Jimmie’s mother one too many times, and Jimmie’s father went to prison for life.
“Well, if it ain’t Trudy Beaumont,” BJ Tucker, the ticket taker said.
He ripped Trudy’s tickets in two and gave her back the other halves.
“Heard you wore purple to school today.” He sneered.
“Then sent June Bug Moody to the principal.” He shook his head, clicked his tongue.
“Better hope folks don’t recognize you if we lose. ”
Trudy blinked. “It’s Trudy Abernathy , BJ.”
Leta Pearl looked as if Trudy had just blown her nose with a page from the New Testament. “You sent June Bug to the principal?”
“He was nineteen-and-a-half minutes late to class,” Trudy said.
“Only nineteen?” BJ widened his eyes. “Better’n I thought he’d do. You sure he did The Run in less than twenty?”
BJ Tucker might as well have dropped a truckload of Bunsen burners on Trudy’s head.
How could she have been so mindless? She’d been so caught up trying to make an example out of June Bug, but he’d only been honoring the Bruins first-game tradition that had been around for as long as Trudy could remember.
After the pep rally, to which he’d worn his uniform and high-fived every single student, he’d run all the way to the field house, changed into his school clothes and then run all the way back to class.
Bruins fans believed in their hearts that the faster QB-1 made it to class, the better the season would be.
Trudy remembered clearly: her junior year was the last Run where students were allowed to line the route.
That was because one hapless freshman—Carl Beggars—accidentally tripped Benny Markham and the Bruins didn’t win a single regional game that season.
So, Trudy’s senior year, Principal Hendon made everyone go immediately to class after the pep rally to avoid another disaster.
That was when Jimmie completed The Run in twenty-one minutes.
That had been deemed a miracle and quickly solidified the new rule: no students watching The Run.
Trudy snatched her ticket halves from BJ. “Have a good night.”
Ever the festive fan, Leta Pearl wore a blue-and-white plaid A-line skirt with a coral-colored blouse.
Her Bruin Brooch sparkled in all directions: a bear’s head of smoky brown quartz surrounded by orange and blue gemstones, Dub’s idea that he’d designed and hand-crafted himself.
Leta Pearl’s mood, however, was less than festive.
“Trudy, darling, I need your help,” she said.
“Please direct me to the nearest hole to crawl into.”
“Oh, stop it, Mother. The Run is a superstition.” Trudy waved her off. “And a rather dumb one if you ask me.”
“Lower your voice before somebody hears you.” Leta Pearl looked over both shoulders. “If BJ Tucker, of all people, is wagging his chin, there’s no telling what folks are saying.”
Trudy went into the stadium; Leta Pearl, sighing and exasperated, trailed behind. The scoreboard, by the way, looked perfectly fine; Trudy didn’t see why they needed a new one.
“Miss Abernathy!” Faye hollered and waved from the clump of cheerleaders in the distance.
“Just a minute, Mama.” Trudy left Pete with Leta Pearl and walked over.
Faye stood with Rejoice and Carter, busy fixing Rejoice’s orange hair bow. The others rubbed temporary tattoos of bear paws on each other’s cheeks. It relieved her to see Carter coalescing, right in the mix, fiddling with hair, stretching, and practicing moves.
“Good evening, y’all,” Trudy said. “Ready for the big night?”
“Yes, ma’am,” a few said. Others nodded. Vangie blew a big pink bubble.
“Vangie, hon,” Trudy said. “You can’t cheer with gum in your mouth. You’ll need to spit that out.”
Vangie snarled and spat the wad into her palm.
“Okay ladies,” Dee Dee said, then looked at Carter but didn’t correct herself. “Prayer huddle.”
The cheerleaders formed a circle with their arms around one another.
“Miss Abernathy, you should join us,” Vangie said with a big smile, making room for Trudy.
“Really?” The gesture flattered and surprised her, especially from Vangie who, up until now, had never shown an ounce of courtesy. Vangie lovingly wrapped her arm around Trudy.
“Dear God,” Dee Dee said. “Thank you for making us the Bruins cheerleaders. And tonight, make sure our defensive line keeps their eyes on the corner because that one running back is quick on the start after the handoff in the setback.”
All the cheerleaders nodded their heads in agreement, except for Faye, who scowled.
“And God, make sure the fullback drops back, because you know how fast the Gators edge can be, even though we all know they get away with jumping offside constantly.”
Faye glared at Dee Dee, who kept on praying.
“And Lord, make sure we win by at least two touchdowns.”
“Dee Dee,” Faye whispered.
Everyone’s eyes flicked open.
“You can’t pray to win, especially not specifically by two touchdowns.”
Dee Dee pressed her lips into a white slash. “Don’t be ridiculous, Faye. The Bible says make your requests known to God . That’s what I’m doing.”
“Yeah, but what if their cheerleaders are over there praying for their team to win?”
Dee Dee gasped. “Watch your mouth, Faye Moore!” She stamped her saddle oxford on the running track. “You think God is a Gator?”
“Precious Lord,” Rejoice said loudly, eyes shut tightly, her head bowed. “Grant us a safe game tonight.”
The cheerleaders darted their eyes around and then shut them. Dee Dee made eye contact with Trudy and then quickly shut hers.
“Don’t let anybody get hurt,” Rejoice continued. “Let our cheers help our players to play their best, and Lord, if it be your will ”—Rejoice opened her eyes and nodded to Faye, who nodded back—“Help us to win. And all God’s people said ...”
“Amen,” they all said together and piled their hands in the middle.
Dee Dee counted, “One! Two! Three!”
“Orange and blue! We love you! Let’s go Bruins!”
Trudy even joined, the ritual coming back like yesterday. “Y’all need anything?”
They shook their heads and went back to fussing over details.
Trudy pulled Carter aside. “How’s it going?” she asked.
“Fine.” He looked down at his shoes. “Feel like I stand out a little. Being the only boy on the squad. This isn’t like back home.”
“Well, Carter, I think it’s courageous. And, in case you haven’t noticed, this town could use a little shaking up.” Trudy nudged him, but he pulled back. “Talk at halftime?”
He nodded.
Trudy turned and there was Coach Meechum.
She almost didn’t recognize him, his expression intense instead of goofy.
He wore a blue tie and khaki pants with tennis shoes and an orange baseball cap with a blue and white BS on it.
When he took it off to scratch his head, she noticed wrinkles around his eyes that she knew weren’t there before.
He chewed his bottom lip and paced like a feral cat in a cage, watching his players run pregame drills.
Every once in a while, he would look down at his clipboard and discuss something with one of the assistant coaches, who wore the same outfit as he.
But when she was about to call his name and wish him good luck, he clapped his hands and started hollering.
The Bruins surrounded him immediately, a tight circle of hungry animals baying at their leader.
“Our defense—!” Coach Meechum’s face went fiery red.
“ Hits harder! ”
“Our offense—!”
“ Runs longer! ”
“When do we relent?”
“ Bruins never relent! ”
“What’s that?”
“ Bruins never relent! ”
“Y’all sound like a bunch of kittens!”
“brUINS NEVER RELENT!”
Louder and louder, they screamed with the unabashed fortitude of warriors, satisfying Coach Meechum’s demand for their collective unleashing of some primal urge to fight, undaunted and hot-blooded, in that secret bond that only boys knew.
“LET’S GO!” Coach Meechum turned and ran.
The players followed him to the field house yelping and whooping. She expected a smile, or a wisecrack, something silly, from Coach Meechum, but as he passed, he looked at her with a steely and menacing face. She smiled widely, but when their eyes met, his gaze only intensified.
Game face.
The confidence and power he exuded made Trudy swallow and fluff the collar of her blouse. “I need a cold drink,” she caught herself whispering.
Pete wanted to take himself to the men’s room, but Trudy wasn’t quite ready for that, maybe next year when he was seven. She glanced around for Haskel, but he was likely off somewhere drumming up votes while sporting his newest campaign button: Our Mayors are Moody!
“Not tonight, Pete; we’ll make it quick in the ladies.” She scooted him into the first open stall and pulled down his pants; he was just tall enough to pee over the rim.
“Careful now,” she said. “Hold still.”