Fourteen
Trudy
“He’s not himself tonight,” Haskel kept saying of his nephew’s terrible performance.
June Bug threw three interceptions and fumbled twice in the first half. On every other possession, the Bruins punted, and they only crossed the fifty-yard line once.
Earlier, Coach Meechum had been clapping, slapping boys’ behinds, whacking their helmets, yelling at the referees over missed calls.
Now, his hands were on his hips, his eyes downcast; those angry lines Trudy noticed earlier dug deeper into his face.
The nearly silent crowd paid little attention to the Marching Bruins’ halftime show.
Behind her, a woman said, “Missy Jean, over at the concession stand, said Miss Abernathy sent June Bug to the principal after The Run today. That’s why he’s playing so awful.”
Trudy’s throat dried up. The woman must not have recognized Trudy in Haskel’s hat, or maybe she just didn’t care. Inside Trudy’s cup, nothing but two ice cubes. She stuck one in her mouth.
The cheerleaders seemed fine, so she let Haskel take Pete to the restroom and stayed put with her gummy hair hidden under his fedora.
“I heard that too,” replied another woman. “Cody said she’s mean as a pit bull. Even meaner than Miss Hyde.”
Trudy mentally scrolled her class rolls trying to remember a Cody.
Miss Hyde leaned over and said, “Don’t worry dear. That’s entirely impossible.”
That only made Trudy feel mildly better. She stuck her last ice cube in her mouth and wondered if leaving at halftime was an option for the cheerleader sponsor.
After the second-half kickoff, June Bug sat on the bench, his elbows on his knees, head bowed, eyes fixed on the grass between his cleats.
Coach Meechum put in the second-string quarterback, Early Miles.
Early, a sophomore, looked skinny enough to fit in the coin slot of the Skee-Ball machine at ShowBiz Pizza.
He slugged on his helmet and trotted on the field.
The Gators defense looked ready to chomp the Bruins for dinner.
The Bruins stood wide-eyed as if the Goose Shoals defense were actual alligators and they were chunks of bait on one of those Baton Rouge airboat tours.
No cheers came from the crowd, only disgusted groans. Trudy pulled Haskel’s hat over her eyes. Upset fans huffed their way toward the exits.
But the students, sitting in their section on the other side of the Marching Bruins, erupted.
Cheering for what, Trudy didn’t know. There was Carter, a big grin on his face, Faye on one side, Rejoice on the other.
They were dancing in perfect sync, flicking their hands over their heads like showgirls.
They spun, synchronized, and gyrated the other way.
Carter turned to face the cheering crowd, grabbed his crotch and thrusted, then did a little sidestep move.
The students lost all control when the Mighty Marching Bruins launched into “Physical,” that Olivia Newton-John song that Barbara had recently deemed “porn disguised as pop” in her column.
And now here it was playing out right before everyone’s eyes.
The entire student body started writhing and pelvic thrusting like something from MTV.
Girls shimmied and shook. Boys humped the air.
One grandmother shielded a toddler’s eyes.
Trudy had spent cheer practices planning lessons, grading quizzes, and studying the textbook chapters herself, but surely she would have remembered seeing these provocative gestures.
Then Carter and Faye stood on either side of Rejoice and, suddenly, Carter held Rejoice in the air in a breathtaking tower stunt, the kind Trudy had only ever seen college cheerleaders do.
Rejoice stood in Carter’s palms high above the ground effortlessly.
Her smile lit up the night. Then, it looked as if Rejoice was falling—Trudy lost her breath—but Carter caught her in his arms, gracefully, powerfully, and they both smiled and waved to the crowd.
After another gyration and hip thrust, no one in the whole place wasn’t watching them.
And what else would there have been to watch with the Bruins playing like garbage?
Even so, just then, Early faked a lateral toss to the fullback, then handed off to Gulley Riggins, the running back. Gulley broke through the middle and ran forty yards for a touchdown. Gators 24, Bruins 7.
During the fight song, Carter threw Rejoice in the air again, Rejoice stood in his hands, smiling and swishing her orange and blue pom-poms. She sailed downward again and landed with precision in Carter’s arms.
On the next possession, Gulley, with a spin move, escaped two tackles that most college players couldn’t have broken and ran twenty yards for a first down.
Two plays later, he did it again for another Bruins touchdown.
And as Bailey Springs crept back into the game, so did their fans.
Folks who had been screaming obscenities started clapping, cautiously eyeing the field, and cheering for the star of the evening, Gulley Riggins.
At the beginning of the fourth quarter: Goose Shoals Gators 24, Bailey Springs Bruins 17.
The Bruins were back in it and, on the sideline, were high-fiving and yelling into each other’s faces with butt swats and helmet slaps.
Dee Dee and Vangie seemed caught in some sort of cheerleader purgatory, unsure how to respond to the Bruins’ comeback juxtaposed with all the attention Rejoice and Carter were commanding.
They’d clearly been practicing without the rest of the squad.
Despite the excitement of a whole stadium of fans thrusting and bumping their hips when they weren’t holding their breath as Rejoice defied gravity, Dee Dee’s plastic smile was like a pageant runner-up who couldn’t wait to get off stage to bawl her eyes out.
Apparently less inclined to pretense, Vangie folded her arms and rolled her eyes, and had helped herself to another piece of gum.
Up in the Boosters section, Barbara Beaumont’s mouth looked like a whale feeding on plankton.
Miss Duffy snapped her head around as she gyrated and turned; she pumped her booty back and forth, front and back, making little unh-unh sounds with each thrust. Haskel’s head was cocked to the side as if he couldn’t figure out if the fans were in pain or elation.
But Trudy noticed that, despite his grimace, his foot tapped to the “Physical” beat.
Goose Shoals fumbled the ball, and the Bruins scooped it up and ran in for a touchdown! The game was tied at 24. Carter and Rejoice’s cheerleading, if you believed in the power of cheerleading—and Trudy hated to admit that she did—had worked!
With thirty-four seconds left, Early Miles completed his only pass of the game, eight yards, placing the ball on the forty with fifty seconds to go.
On the next play Gulley, who had scored every Bruins touchdown except for one that night, made it to the six-yard line but was tackled by a huge Gator with three seconds left.
Coach Meechum called a timeout and all the students started dancing again, Rejoice sailed again, and everyone held their breath until she was safe in Carter’s arms again.
Heinz Steinbrugg, Bailey Springs’ kicker, a foreign exchange student from Switzerland who everybody called “Ketchup,” split the uprights in a perfect field goal to seal the Bruins’ victory. The crowd erupted, the band played the fight song, and everyone sang as loudly as they could.
Go, you Bailey Bruins—brave and true!
Leave your every foe in ruins, Orange and Blue!
So, win, you Bailey Bruins—battles great and small.
Fight, you bears, with all your might and conquer all!
Poor Haskel needed to relieve himself, said he’d held it the entire second half.
“We’ll be down with the cheerleaders,” Trudy said, holding Pete’s hand. She opened the chain-link gate, stepped down on the running track and headed toward the cheerleaders; hopefully the thrill of the comeback win had softened Dee Dee.
“Trudy!” Mayor Leon Moody, Haskel’s big brother, called from behind.
“Leon, hey!” Trudy smiled, then thought of June Bug and the Field House Run and instantly felt awkward. She took off Haskel’s hat, remembered the gum, then put it back on. Pete let go of her hand and walked over toward the bleachers. “Don’t go far, Peter,” she said.
The mayor flashed the same smirk as June Bug, confident and entitled. “That Gulley Riggins is something else, ain’t he?”
“Listen, Leon.” Trudy finally settled her hands on her heart. “About June Bug ... I’m not sure what to say. Believe it or not, I completely forgot about the Field House Run and then everything was—”
“Please,” Leon waved off her apology. “I’m sure you did what you felt was best.” He nodded at June Bug who walked by at a distance, the only Bruin with his head down.
“Of course,” Trudy said. “I would never—”
“June Bug’s on Bear Bryant’s short list, Trudy.
” Leon looked at her as if this fact settled something, some sort of bottom-line statement that spoke for itself.
That’s because, of course, it did. Being on the short list of the Hallowed Hero of Alabama did speak for itself; Trudy was wise enough to know that.
“But he better get to class on time if he wants that future, don’t you reckon? ”
She was also wise enough to know underneath Leon’s grin was a clear warning that she’d better not interfere again. “It would certainly be in his interest.”
“I like you, Trudy.” Leon smiled. “You’re good for Haskel.”
Trudy felt pathetic for being charmed by Leon liking her.
Her instinctive reply, to thank him, though, felt utterly strange.
She scanned the stadium, suddenly aware of how very public their interaction was.
She smiled and nodded her head to make it look like they were having a pleasant conversation: a couple of future in-laws simply chatting.
“Thanks,” she said. “I hope so.” She hated how mousy and weak she sounded.
Leon pulled out a pack of Juicy Fruit and offered a piece to Trudy.
“No thanks.” Her hands couldn’t find a place to go.
“I know it’s bad for your teeth,” he said, popping a stick in his mouth.
“But it’s better than a cigarette, which is what I really want during these games.
” He laughed, at what, Trudy wasn’t exactly sure.
“But eyes are watching, you know? I can’t just go around smoking in public.
Because people ... well, you know what I’m saying, don’t you? ”
Trudy narrowed her gaze, inviting him to expound.
Leon continued, “You’re entering a world you know nothing about. When you’re married to the mayor, Trudy, your actions matter. And I’m concerned that you don’t fully understand that.”
“Look, Mama!” Pete shoved himself between her and Leon, eating popcorn out of a half-empty box. “Somebody left it.”
“Peter!” Trudy said. “Put that down!” She grabbed the popcorn out of his hands. “You don’t know who was eating that.”
“Nobody was eatin’ it,” Pete said. “Got it right there under the bleachers.”
Trudy stood back up, but Leon was already walking away; he ticked his chin in her direction and left.