For Blood & Glory

by Cassandra Hendricks

  It felt as if all eyes were on her even though she knew they weren’t. Alright Sefira, time to put on your big girl pants. The relay team was calling her.

  “Candy!” The head coach cupped his hands, calling across the field. A pretty girl stretching in the distance stopped abruptly to acknowledge the coach’s call. “I need you to hit the track.”

  As Candy approached the track, Sefira recognized her as the girl that stared her down in the quad area earlier that day. Giselle? Just wonderful. Of course, it’s her.

  The girl’s spikes clacked as she hit the dirt track. “Another day, another newbie to burn,” she said, walking past Sefira over to the outside lane. She tossed her thick brown hair back and tied it in a knot, glancing over at Sefira who had also chosen her lane. Immediately, her expression changed.

  “What a nice surprise.” Her eyes narrowed as she gave Sefira the once-over. “It’s our friendly neighborhood receiver. I’m going to enjoy this.” Her toasted amber skin glistened under the sun as she winked and settled unto the track.

  Sefira ignored the remark, preferring to let her talent do the talking. Quickly, Sefira pulled the rubber band off of her wrist and arranged her hair into a ponytail.

  Coach yelled, “On your mark, get set,” and then a whistle blew.

  Both girls exploded out of their respective blocks. Sefira felt the wind rushing through her braids as her feet beat the ground. It didn’t take her long to find her rhythm and she reminded herself to relax and breathe. All the while her adversary was practically beside her and judging by the sound of her feet, she too had found her pace. Sefira could tell this would be tough.

  With only fifteen meters to go, Sefira decided it was time to turn on the jets. Quickening her stride, she pulled ahead of Giselle. Yes, I’ve got this. And she did. That is, before Giselle intervened. A slight nudge of Giselle’s elbow was all it took to throw Sefira off balance. Stumbling, she hit the ground hard as the weight of her right knee slammed against the loose dirt track. Squinting, she tried her best to stop an onslaught of tears as she rocked from side to side clutching her knee to her chest.

  Giselle stopped running and jogged back to Sefira. With her back to the on-looking crowd she knelt down to Sefira’s level and whispered, “That’s what’s up.” Sefira ceased wincing just long enough to catch a smirk flash across Giselle’s face.

  Within seconds Coach Stewart and various other members of the team were crowded around her and she was met with a barrage of questions. “Are you okay?” “What happened?”

  Sefira was tempted to reveal the truth but decided against it. “I slipped,” she eked out between grimaces.

  “Sefira, you’ve gotta relax….” A familiar voice stood out amongst the crowd. She looked up. Ugh. It’s that cute guy I saw on my way to Harding’s. Can this get any better?

  “Carrington, extend your leg this way.” Coach Stewart made a motion with his hand. Sefira bit her lip and slowly mimicked his movement. “Good, based on your range of motion I don’t think anything is broken, just banged up a bit. You’re gonna have to ice this, I’m sure you know the drill. Anyone wanna volunteer to help Carrington get to her car?”

  “I got it, Coach.” It was the Adonis again.

  If there were ever a prize for the most athletic looking individual, this guy would surely win. The worn-looking white t-shirt and blue sweats barely contained the fantastic frame beneath. The young man extended his bronzed hand down towards Sefira’s now limp body and she handily accepted his invitation.

  Immediately, her initial assessment was confirmed. This guy was beyond fine and had muscles in his ears. She was 5’7” herself, so he had to be—what, 6’3”? Six-four? Asiatic eyes; sculptured face; strong jaw line—he could easily pass as a model. And with that thick mane of dark, curly hair, she could only imagine how many girls wanted to run their fingers through it. She, however, was determined to resist the urge to be drawn in by his beauty. Unfortunately, this proved to be more difficult than she thought.

  “Are you okay?” he asked in a smoky, silken voice.

  “Yeah, I think so,” she answered, trying not to look too pained.

  "Let's get you to your car." His grip was strong as he pulled her to her unaffected foot with ease. The rest of her body weight shifted to him as he stooped down, took her arm, and placed it across his broad shoulders. His other arm stretched across the small of her back and rested firmly against her side for support. Who knew a sweaty guy could smell good?

  Okay Fira, get a grip. He’s just trying to be nice. Just do yourself a favor and don’t act like a complete dork.

  They hobbled past Giselle, who stood in the distance with her arms folded, looking pissed. In that instant, Sefira decided that even if this guy were trying to play the hero, the envious look on Giselle’s face made the fall, the pain, and the degradation officially worth it. She limped just a little bit harder, for the sake of the show.

  “At least you can put some weight on it, that’s a good sign,” said the Adonis.

  “Yeah,” said Sefira.

  “So, um, you’re the girl I almost killed with the football the other day. Sorry again, by the way. You must feel like there’s a target on your back.”

  Sefira looked at him. Why did she do that? His eyes could melt rocks. From now on, she would avoid those heat seekers of his. Her silence must’ve come across as snarky, because he apologized again.

  “Bad joke?”

  “No, it’s fine. Really. You’re right. I’m not having the greatest week.”

  “I noticed. I’m Kaetano, by the way.”

  “Nice to meet you. And um, I guess you already know my name?” Sefira asked, eyebrows creased.

  Kaetano’s face flushed as if he’d been discovered. “You caught that, huh?” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Well, I had to figure out who my competition was on the field. You can catch better than I can.”

  “Oh, so you play football too? I guess you’re like the All-American athlete around here.”

  He grinned. “I don’t know about that. Football is just something I’ve been thinking about.” Glancing in the lot’s direction he asked “Where’s your car?”

  “I don’t have a car; I’ll call my mom to pick me up.”

  “Okay, well, I’m rollin’. You wanna ride home?”

  Hello, butterflies. She remained cool despite their fluttering. Who was this guy anyway? A polite decline dangled from her lips. As if reading her mind, he added, “Hey, don’t worry. I’m a safe driver and I won’t take any detours. You can go ask Coach about me if you’d feel more comfortable.”

  She thought about it and then surprised herself. “No, it’s okay. Coach trusts you, I can tell. I’ll get you gas money when I get home—”

  “Trust me, I’d be honored to take you home—no expectations, no strings attached.” Something in his eyes told her he was serious.

  “I, um—left my bags over there. On the field.” She nodded ahead of them.

  “All that stuff is yours?”

  “Yeah. I didn’t know how long try-outs would take so I brought all my things.”

  “No problem. If I get you over to the gate, can you lean on it while I grab your stuff?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  He escorted her to a portion of a gate that hugged the curve of the track and she watched as he ran to the field, grabbed her bags and returned.

  Together, they continued toward the parking lot.

  “Wait here and I’ll pull around,” he said.

  Before Sefira could champion a decent protest, Kaetano ran off and disappeared, leaving Sefira standing on the adjacent sidewalk, leaning against the school mailbox. It took two minutes tops for a dark blue automobile to pull up beside her. It was gorgeous, and she felt her jaw unhinge just a little. The engine hummed as he popped out and around the car to her side. Opening the car door, he helped to lower her into the seat. When she was settled, he closed her door and circled back around to the drivers’ side. Wow, gentlemanly too
? Something about this just isn’t right.

  “You good?” Kaetano asked, after getting into the car. He turned and lowered his eyes at Sefira, awaiting her response.

  My goodness, there is something about those eyes. What color are they anyway? Why am I thinking about his eyes? Get yourself together, Fira. “Yeah, I’m fine. Your car is um…pretty cool.”

  “Thanks, I’ve been working on it for a while now. Trying to restore it little by little. It was my dad’s and he passed it on to me.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s a ‘65 Ford Mustang. I love old cars.”

  “Me too,” Sefira agreed, without really understanding why. Cars were not her forte, but this one was pristine. Black leather interior, serious chrome across the dash, who wouldn’t want a car like this?

  “Okay, where to?” asked Kaetano.

  “Well, I’m warning you now, I don’t stay around the corner. I live in Diamond Bar, actually. If you take the 57, and get off on Pathfinder, I live right around the corner from there.”

  “Wow, rich girl, huh?”

  Sefira playfully scoffed and rolled her eyes. “No, not even.”

  “I’ve got an idea. How ‘bout we take the streets—Colima to Brea Canyon? Traffic is kind of bad on the freeway going in that direction.”

  “No problem.” Those butterflies were really moving now, and it was starting to annoy Sefira. She shifted in her seat.

  “You’re new, right?” Kaetano glanced at her briefly and then returned to the road ahead.

  “Kind of, I guess. I mean, I just started here this year.”

  “How do you like things so far?”

  Slowly, she stretched out her leg and grimaced. “Well despite cracking up my knee, it’s been okay.”

  Kaetano glanced at her leg. “Be careful.”

  “I am.” The seat squeaked as she repositioned herself in it.

  “Did you run track back home?“

  “Yeah. Last year was my debut. Didn’t think I’d like it but it turned out fun.”

  “Where are you from?”

  “Davis.” That’s the short answer.

  “Up North, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why’d you move?”

  “Celeste thought it was a good idea. Her divorce was finalized.”

  “Celeste?” he repeated.

  Twiddling her thumbs, she said, “Oh—yeah, my foster mom. I still call her Celeste, sometimes.” She hoped he didn’t have that “wow, you’re a foster kid?” look. She snuck a glance. Oh well.

  “Oh, so you’re adopted?” he asked.

  “Well no—not yet. I’ve been with the Carrington’s for a while. They’re good people. But, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be adopted.”

  “And now you are?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Nice. So, it’s just you and your foster mom?”

  “No, she has two kids—a girl and a boy.”

  “Oh.” There was a brief silence and then came the question. The one she hated most. “If you don’t mind my asking, what happened with your birth family?”

  Sefira looked at him, her lips pressed together. “You know, I really didn’t intend to get this personal.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “I just thought, maybe you wanted to talk about it.” He glanced at her. “Never mind.”

  The hum of the engine and the sound of cars passing by filled the strained silence.

  Okay, let’s try to kill the awkwardness. “How ‘bout you? You from out here?”

  “No. As a matter of fact, I’m not from here. I’m from the Midwest. My family moved out to Southern Cali a few years ago, and we bounced around a bit before settling here.”

  “Midwest, huh,” said Sefira, stroking her chin. “That makes sense. I thought you were a little different.”

  Kaetano raised an eyebrow.

  “I mean, these days most guys don’t open doors and sweep girls of their feet—literally, I mean.”

  He turned and smiled. “Too bad. They don’t know what they’re missing. Anyway, I’m glad you came along.”

  Okay, what’s up with this guy? “So I have a question for you.”

  “Go for it.”

  She folded her arms. “How often do you this?”

  “Do what?”

  “Pick up strange girls and give them rides home?” There. She said it. And it didn’t come off as snide either.

  His eyebrows furrowed. “Man, just when I thought I was getting a compliment.” He chuckled, pulling on a lock of his hair as if thinking. “In a good month, maybe once or twice.”

  Sefira nodded. “Aha, that’s what I thought.”

  “You know I’m joking.” He glanced at her. “Seriously, who does that?”

  Sefira pursed her lips and returned a look as if to say ‘Please.’

  “Okay, well some guys do, but I’m not that type of guy. In fact, you are officially the first girl that I’ve ever given a ride to. You’re not all that strange either.”

  Sefira raised an eyebrow. “What makes me so lucky?”

  “I don’t know.” He shrugged his shoulders, eyes on the road. “I mean, I could say that you’re hurt and in need of assistance. But the truth is, there’s a little more to it than that.”

  “Okay? Like what?” .

  “I don’t know. There’s just something different about you.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. I think you’re…special.”

  “Funny you should say that. My brother uses that word all the time.”

  “Seriously, I mean that in a good way.”

  Sefira just looked at him. What’s his angle? “You’ve just met me. What could I have possibly done to differentiate myself from anyone else?”

  “Alright. That’s a legitimate question. Well?” His eyes rolled up. “While all the other girls around here seem to be consumed by fashion and make-up and boys, you don’t seem to be worried about any of that. Look at you.” He gesticulated toward her. “No make-up or frills, you’re athletic and yet, still serious about your studies—you’ve got your nose in a book, even at practice—I don’t know. You seem like someone who’s got their head on straight. That’s hard to find these days.” He looked at her, all dimples.

  She pursed her lips. “I think you just called me stylistically-challenged and a nerd all in one breath. You might be pretty good on the field, but your drag needs a little work.”

  “What? Drag?” Kaetano was clearly amused. “I don’t even know what that is.”

  “I’m not surprised,” Sefira muttered under her breath.

  “Please, enlighten me.”

  Sefira shifted in her seat. “You know, the stuff guys say to girls to get them to like them.”

  “Oh.” He nodded. “A little presumptuous, aren’t we?”

  “I didn’t mean ‘like’ in that way. I just meant—”

  “Well, hold on. Let’s just assume I am interested. You know, for conversation’s sake. Am I not saying the right things?”

  Sefira studied him and decided to go for it. “No. You’re not. Your aim’s a little off.”

  “Really?” He laughed. “Well I’m anxious to hear what you have to say.” He tapped the steering wheel with his thumb. “I’m all for improvement….”

  “Well, girls like guys who are creative and romantic. That line, about the no make-up and frills—that’s not going to work. You’ve got to do or say something to stimulate the amygdala.”

  “The amyg—what?”

  “It’s the part of the brain that processes emotions. You want to say something like…” Turning toward him she looked into his eyes and offered her dreamiest voice. “How was Heaven when you left it?”

  “Oh.” He laughed. “OK, well, if romance is in the cards, I’ll be sure to work on something clever.” He looked at her, more serious this time. “And next time I think I’ll skip the amygdala and aim for your heart.”

  Is my mouth closed? I hop
e my mouth is closed. “Here’s my exit,” Sefira mumbled. Kaetano promptly pulled off the road. “Mind if I roll the window down?” She began rolling before he even answered.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. You hot?” He smirked.

  “Stuffy,” she insisted, straight-faced. Her seat squeaked as she turned toward her window, allowing the wind to slice through her braids and cool the flushed feeling she felt in her cheeks. As she placed her elbow on the sill she glimpsed her reflection in the side-view mirror and she had to admit, it was nice to see a twinkle in the eye of the ebony girl with the slightly crooked nose. A slow smile swept across her dimpled cheeks.

  After driving up a steep incline, they arrived at her house. “We’re here,” she said, rolling the window back up. “It’s the brown one on the left.”

  They pulled in front of a cute little house—an 80s style suburban home. Sefira was hoping her mother’s car wouldn’t be parked out front when they arrived, but there it was. A silver Ford crossover and an older white Mercedes parked in the driveway. Great, mom AND the grandparents. We’ll have to cut this one short. “Alright, Kaetano, thanks so much for the ride, and I’ll see you at school, OK?”

  “Man, it’s like that?” he asked. “Let me at least walk you to the door and meet your mom or something.” Sefira actually paused to think about that, feeling a mixture of flattery and trepidation. Why, pray tell, would he want to meet my mom? Even if he were sincere, the last thing she wanted was for Grandma and her mother to embarrass her. “Okay,” she said. I’m so going to regret this.

  Leaning back, he grabbed her bags from the back seat and hopped out of the car. Her bags dangled from his shoulder as he opened her door and assisted her out of her seat. Once out, they both glanced at her leg. The bruise was a mixture of violet, deep purple and dark grey and both knees endured some skinning. That stupid girl.

  “You need to get cleaned up and stay off your feet.”