Gimme Everything You Got

by Iva-Marie Palmer

  I grinned. “I can’t believe I did a header today,” I said.

  “I can,” he said. Then he touched my chin lightly and I drew in a sharp breath. His face neared mine, and just as his lips almost covered my own, I shoved aside the bolt of excitement that had rocketed through me and pulled back.

  Maybe this was his making-out blanket.

  “Whoa, I’m not one of your girls,” I said, a little sharper than I meant to. What was I supposed to say, though? Yesterday, he’d taken Lizzy to the movies. Just because he could go around making out with everyone like it was no big deal didn’t mean I wanted to. Well, not that I didn’t want to, exactly—there was no denying the surge that had shot through my body when he’d gotten close. But I could drum up that same surge thinking about the channel 5 morning weatherman and its sports reporter. My body wasn’t a well-tuned antenna picking up one strong signal so much as a powerful radar that pulsed any time it detected someone decent in range. The only difference was Joe was one of the first guys I knew in real life—besides Bobby—to bring it on, without me having to imagine he’d been spliced with Paul Newman or something.

  Joe’s face was a study in mortification as he sat up. “That was stupid,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

  He seemed to really mean it. I sat up next to him and touched his shoulder. “It’s . . . it’s no big deal,” I said. “It’s probably, like, habit for you or something.”

  “Yeah,” he said, and his agreement confirmed what I’d already been debating about him. He wasn’t any more serious about whatever girl he was out with than he was about anything else. And that was fine—we’d both be glad later that we hadn’t kissed.

  “Let’s not be weird about it, okay?” I said.

  “Definitely not,” he said. “It was dumb. Seriously, I’m sorry. Won’t happen again.”

  He stood and walked ahead of me to the car. Watching him retreat, I felt a current circuit inside me, like a Hot Wheels car making its way around a track, vibrating beneath my lips and traveling down my arms, coursing over my chest and down to my hips, then repeating. My breath caught looking at a small tear in Joe’s T-shirt collar, and at his neck. I could imagine grabbing his shoulder and turning him toward me. We’d kiss up against his Nova until we couldn’t breathe.

  But crossing a line in my head was different from crossing it in real life. Making out with Joe when neither of us was serious about it wouldn’t bring anything good, and would put an uncomfortable wedge in our friendship, like when you had something stuck in your teeth and couldn’t stop running your tongue over it.

  The only problem was, judging by the more or less silent car ride to my house, the uncomfortable wedge might have been there already.

  Seventeen

  Friday morning, I had my mom sign my permission slip for the Wisconsin trip; we’d be leaving that afternoon. “Here,” she said, handing it back to me. Then she took her purse off the counter and fished two tens out of her wallet. “For emergencies, or a souvenir.”

  I felt bad taking the tens, but not because of the money. The permission slip was a fake. Franchesa, Arlene, and Sarah had all worried their parents wouldn’t let them go with only Bobby as our chaperone, so Dana had used official school letterhead to compose a letter stating a female chaperone would be coming on the trip with us. Dana, it turned out, loved school rules, but not enough to give up the game because we didn’t have enough players. Even though most of our parents—Mom included—didn’t necessarily care who the chaperone was, we’d all agreed to have the permission forms signed, in case somehow our moms ran into each other at the store that weekend. If our parents asked who was going, we decided we’d say Ms. Cuddle. We figured the only reason the school lacked rules for students traveling with a teacher of the opposite sex was because there’d never been a girls’ team going on an overnight with a male coach before. “We really are pioneers,” Wendy had said.

  “Are you excited?” Mom asked me. “Your first real game.” I was about to say yes when the phone rang, and Mom answered it with an enthusiastic “Hello,” just as she had answered every phone call since the job interview. After a pause, though, she said, “This is Dierdre Evans,” correcting whoever must have used her married name. Her face fell. “I’m sorry, we’re not in the market for air-conditioning at this time.” She put the phone back glumly.

  “I am excited,” I said when she hung up, but the spark of interest in her eyes was gone. “I hope we win.”

  “I hope so, too,” she said a little flatly as she gave me a hug. She gently pulled my head into her shoulder like she had when I was little, and I squeezed her more tightly. She may have needed the hug more than I did.

  The day at school passed more slowly than ever, and by last period in Kitchen Arts, Tina, Dana, and I were stir-crazy. Just not stir-crazy enough that any of us was doing a very good job actually stirring the little pots of hollandaise sauce we each had atop our burners.

  “Do you think the hotel will be nice?” Dana asked us.

  “It’s a motel, so probably not that nice,” Tina said.

  “Is that the difference between hotels and motels? Motels are gross, hotels aren’t?” I said.

  “I’m sure Bobby won’t have us stay anywhere gross,” Tina said. Then, realizing Candace hadn’t said anything in a while, she asked her, “What are you doing this weekend?”

  Candace smiled. “Something with George, probably. Maybe a movie. Some of the other football girlfriends might get together, too.” She attacked her sauce furiously.

  “Sounds fun,” I said, even though it didn’t. The football girlfriends again? It sounded so boring, like being a member of the PTA.

  My weekend was going to be so much better. I kept picturing walking out onto a real field for our first game. I wouldn’t have to pretend to like some football girlfriend. I’d only have to smile at some Wisconsin girl as we took the field. And then I’d kick her ass, maybe.

  “It will be,” Candace said tersely, without looking up from her pot. I’d known Candace for long enough to see that she was jealous. She’d acted this same prickly way when I’d first started bringing Tina around to hang out. Now Tina and I were going to Wisconsin together, something Candace and I had talked about doing after graduation. But she would have been going, too, if she hadn’t quit the team.

  I wanted to say something else—some comment to let her know we were still friends, even if things were different than they’d been. But I didn’t know what that would be, and so at the end of class, I said to Candace, “See you on Monday.”

  “Yeah, have fun. I hope the motel doesn’t have roaches,” she said, but I knew she hoped there’d be at least a tiny one.

  When three p.m. finally rolled around, we met at the side of the school near the football fields. The plan was to get to Wisconsin late afternoon so we’d be fresh for the game tomorrow morning. We had to play at eight a.m., before the Wisconsin school’s football team needed the field. We couldn’t get spectators to come out, even if anyone had wanted to come—they’d have to leave Powell Park at six a.m.—and we’d be home by Saturday afternoon, but it was still exciting. Everyone had a duffel bag of stuff, though Arlene Swann had a large pink suitcase instead.

  “Is that thing full?” Tina asked her. “Are you planning on staying in Wisconsin?”

  Arlene shrugged. “You never know what could happen.”

  Our bus—or at least what I guessed was our bus—was parked in the narrow drive where the boys’ teams loaded up for games, and where their opponents were dropped off. It was a novel sensation to know we were going to be boarding a team bus. Our team’s bus.

  Some students using the side doors exited the school and blinked at us, wondering what we were waiting for. After the first few days following tryouts, most of the school had forgotten about us. Most, except the football team, who emerged from the side doors, filing past us on their way to practice.

  “What’s the deal? You have a game?” Keith Barnes said.

  “Yeah,
in Wisconsin,” Arlene said proudly.

  “Gross, Packer country,” Keith said. “Good luck, though.”

  “Was Keith just semi-nice?” I asked Tina.

  “I think so,” she said.

  “Do you think he respects us or something?” I asked, hitching my duffel bag farther up my shoulder.

  “Nah,” Tina said. “Probably it’s hard for him to hump the air wearing all that football equipment.”

  Whatever made Keith bestow his leaden good wishes hadn’t affected the rest of the team, who regarded us first with puzzlement and then open derision.

  “Is it just me, or were all those girls better looking before they started playing soccer?” Teddy Childers asked a gang of younger guys trailing behind him. They all laughed like a bunch of pubescent seals.

  “Hey ladies, aren’t your boyfriends gonna be upset you’re leaving town?” Paul Mahoney—Arlene’s ex—teased, then slapped his forehead. “Duh, forgot that, no one wants to date any of you.” Arlene turned away from him and gritted her teeth.

  “Ha, yeah, good thing the Dyke Squad is leaving town,” Teddy tacked on, half to us and half to Len Tenley, the captain of the team, who Lynn Bandis was dating.

  As Len grimaced but said nothing in our defense, Marie tossed her duffel to the ground and stomped over to Teddy, who’d put on his helmet.

  “Seriously?” Marie Quinn yelled into his mask. “The best you can come up with is we might rather have sex with each other than with some asshole like you? Sounds like we have good taste to me.”

  “You pissed her off,” Paul said, slapping his buddy on the back. “She must not be getting any pussy lately. You know what that’s like, though, don’t you, Childers?”

  “I’d rather have my vagina sewn shut than ever let one of you touch me,” Dawn said, stepping in front of Marie, who Dana and Arlene had to drag away.

  “He’s not worth it, Marie,” Dana said.

  “Oh, I am, baby,” Teddy called out, taking off his helmet. Then, turning on Dawn, he said, “And from what I hear, you’re gonna need a lot of string.”

  “Like you’ll ever know anything about her vagina or any other vagina, Teddy,” I spat.

  George emerged with Duane Harris, a sophomore who’d transferred in from the city and played varsity running back. George gave Tina and me a friendly wave, and Duane nodded and smiled. “Candace told me about the game—we hope it’s a good one!”

  “Thanks,” I said blandly, more to Duane than to George, even though Duane hadn’t said anything. Candace’s boyfriend was just so earnest, and between his dopey personality and knowing his breath probably smelled like Paul Mahoney’s armpit and blue cheese, I wanted to gag. He would have been less annoying if he were making piggish remarks. Everything about George irked me. He and Duane shuffled away, toward the field, but Teddy and Paul remained.

  Teddy grabbed his crotch and sneered at me. “This isn’t over, Klintock.”

  “I don’t know, I bet you start and finish at about the same time,” I said.

  Tina said, “Tell him” under her breath and slapped me five.

  At that moment, Bobby came out the side doors.

  Teddy let go of his crotch, and Paul, who’d been about to say something, clamped his mouth shut. A lot of guys made fun of Bobby behind his back because he coached a girls’ sport, but I noticed when they came face-to-face with him, they lost their nerve. Most of the time, they could go around believing they were better than the zitty, nasty teenage boys they were, but when Bobby showed up, his obvious superiority threw their patheticness into sharp relief.

  “Hey, gentlemen,” he said. “Hope you’re wishing your fellow athletes good luck?”

  “Of course, Coach,” Paul Mahoney said, in a fake kiss-uppy voice. “Good luck, ladies.”

  Coach Stevens, the massive football coach, had emerged, and he put a hand on Paul’s shoulder pad. “Coach McMann, I hope you and your girls do the school proud.” He sounded as fake as Paul had.

  Bobby cocked his head at the burly coach. “They’re not my girls. They’re their own women.” He smiled. He had a way of smiling that was so confident, it came off as a challenge, but not one that announced itself.

  Coach Stevens emitted one of those laughs that aren’t one, the kind that came out your nose. “Well, good luck,” he said.

  Bobby ignored him, as if the wishes meant nothing. He turned to us instead. Coach Stevens’s jaw clenched, I noticed with satisfaction.

  “All right, ladies, are we all accounted for?” Bobby asked, surveying all of us. “Let’s get a move on.”

  We loaded our bags at the back and boarded the bus. The inside matched the outside, with some torn seats that had been repaired with tape. But it didn’t smell bad, and that counted for something.

  “Okay, I think it should take us about an hour or so. I’ve got directions and a triple-A map,” Bobby said, standing at the front of the bus and waving the map in front of us. “Should be a straight shot, but anyone here want to navigate for me? I haven’t driven a bus since I was at Southern.”

  “I’ll do it.” My hand shot up. The opportunity to spend an hour near Bobby, chatting or breathing the same air or sharing a meaningful look, wasn’t one I could pass up. Besides, my fantasies had been a bit confusing since the near kiss with Joe. Maybe being close to Bobby would help put Joe out of my mind altogether. I hadn’t heard from him, and even though I’d miss our lessons, I was telling myself it was a good thing. It was a little sad, but the way Joe went through girls, if I’d let myself be one, we’d have stopped talking whether we kissed that night or not.

  No one else raised their hand, and it might have been my imagination, but I thought Bobby seemed happy about that.

  “You always come through, don’t you, Susan?” Bobby said, handing me the map and his directions, with the exit we should take in Wauwatosa circled in marker. “Just whisper in my ear if I get something wrong.”

  My thighs tightened as our fingers touched. I took the seat behind the driver’s as everyone else dipped into seats toward the back of the bus. Tina took a seat by Wendy, Dana and Arlene paired off, and Dawn took up a whole seat with her legs stretched out. Marie and Joanie sat on seats across from one another and Marie took out nail polish and offered to paint Joanie’s toenails. Lisa Orlawski—the only Lisa of the team’s original three to make it this far—opened an issue of Seventeen and asked who wanted to take the quiz, and Sarah raised her hand to go first. Franchesa’s mom had sent snacks with her, and she shared the bags of chips and cookies with everyone else.

  As we pulled away from school, Bobby cocked his head back and said, “We’re probably okay until the first toll, but then can you count out the change, please?” He handed me a coffee can of coins.

  I took out Ms. Lopez’s latest assignment, Great Expectations, a book I was angry at. A novel about Miss Havisham when she was young, and her first-person account of how she wound up living in her cobwebbed mansion with her crumbling wedding cake, would have been more interesting than whiny Pip. I read the same sentence five times without absorbing anything, then shut the book.

  I took out a quarter and a nickel for the toll and held them in my hand, to be ready. Then I dropped them back in the can, not wanting to give Bobby sweaty coins.

  Behind me, the team was laughing and shrieking, and when we finally hit the toll, Bobby said, “You know, I think I can manage, if you want to join the team.”

  I shook my head, even though he could at best see me only out of the corner of his eye. “Nah, I don’t mind helping.”

  He beamed as I plucked out the money. “Thank you,” he said.

  Worth it, I thought.

  I ignored the team’s ruckus, enjoying memorizing the back of Bobby’s head. He had a small freckle where his neck and shoulder met, like his body had designated perfect spots for a person to kiss. I began to imagine a map of freckles, like the capitals on a map. A breathy sigh escaped my mouth, as if pushed out by the warmth flooding my body.

&nbs
p; “Are you okay?” Bobby said without turning around.

  “Uh, yes, fine, groaning at my homework,” I said. Dickens would stamp out any horny feelings, I figured, and I flipped through my book again, underlining random sentences for whatever paper I’d have to write. When the time came, I handed Bobby change for the second toll.

  “So, you’re a junior, right?” Bobby said.

  “Yeah, why?”

  He cocked his head slightly so that his eye caught mine. “Have you thought at all about what you’ll do after you graduate?”

  Working as your half-clothed assistant at Personal Best Training sounds good, I thought. “I’m not really sure yet,” I said.

  I thought about the conversation with Joe about college and my mom’s question about where I saw myself in five years. Was it weird I didn’t have a plan? I had never thought so before, but maybe my visions of the future should feature fewer nude scenes and more, like, actual grown-up stuff?

  “You should really think about playing soccer in college. There are a lot of newer teams at the college level and quite a few give scholarships right now.”

  “Huh, I didn’t know that,” I said. “I’ll think about it. But I’m not sure I’m good enough.”

  Bobby grinned. “You’re getting better every day.”

  He turned back to the road, and I started to wonder if he’d meant what he said. Could I play in college? And did I really want to go to more school? I sort of figured I’d graduate and get a job first and then I’d take some classes if I needed them. When Joe and my mom had brought up college, I couldn’t imagine it, but now that Bobby said it, I thought, Why not me? My grades weren’t terrible, and in a lot of ways, it sounded better than a job like my mom’s.

  “Susan, can you see what my directions say? I think we missed the exit.” Bobby’s voice roused me and I realized I’d been pondering the college thing so intensely, I hadn’t been paying attention.

  I sat up in my seat, grabbing for the papers. “It’s exit sixteen A—did we pass it?”