Amber held her head up and opened her eyes, gazing into his. She smiled, her lips parting, her teeth bright white – perfect.
“It feels good,” she said.
“Do you wanna switch?” he asked.
She nodded.
He pulled out and sat on the bench seat. She straddled him. He held his penis as she lowered herself on. She moved back and forth, grinding her clitoris, with his erection deep inside. He held onto her hips. She pressed her lips to his, their mouths open, their tongues twisting. Amber moved more quickly. She detached her mouth from his, breathing heavily into his ear. He placed her nipple in his mouth, moving his tongue against the reddish brown disk, feeling the tiny bumps. Her hips ground with more intensity. She dug her nails into his back. He responded to the pain with deep powerful thrusts.
She cried out. “Harder.”
He obeyed. He felt her slicken around his penis as her moaning turned to screams. Her vaginal walls contracted and pulsed. She collapsed. Her body fell into his, limp, her head on his shoulder.
“Did you?” she asked.
“I’m close,” he said.
She giggled. “You’re runnin’ outta time, loverboy.”
Amber pushed herself off, and stood in front of him hunched over, her head just beneath the car ceiling. She turned around. Her ass was tan and round, her hips flared before curving inward at her waist.
“Move forward,” she said, “to the edge of the seat.”
Carter scooched to the edge, moving his knees outside of hers. She bent forward at her torso, her hands resting on top of the seat in front of her. He grabbed her hips and guided her onto his penis. She used her legs to push against him, moving hard and fast. He groaned as he watched himself slide in and out of her. After a few moments he climaxed, his erection pulsing.
She turned around with a grin. His well-defined chest moved up and down with his diaphragm, his breathing audible. His face felt hot. His back stung. She sat down next to him. When she moved from his view, he could see the school through the front windshield.
“Shit,” he said, “what time is it?”
She shrugged and giggled.
“I’m sorry, I gotta go.” He grabbed his clothes, pulling his underwear from his jeans. The clothes went back on almost as fast as they came off.
“Oh my God,” she said. “Your back … I’m so sorry.”
“It’s no big deal,” he said, pulling his shirt over his wounds.
She pressed out her lower lip. “You’re just gonna leave me here … naked?”
He exhaled with a frown. “If I’m late, I won’t play tomorrow.”
“Get that cute butt of yours movin’ then. You can make it up to me later.”
He slipped on his running shoes, pecked Amber on the lips and climbed over the rear seat. He exited the SUV and slammed the door behind him. The student parking lot was empty. He sprinted across the asphalt, his shoes barely touching the surface. He saw players walking toward the practice field. He bumped into Dwayne as he squeezed through the door.
“You better hurry up, white boy.” He laughed. “No time for that Jane Fonda shit today.”
Carter burst into the locker room. It was empty, except for Zach and Justin who were walking toward the door. Carter turned his padlock three full turns, landing on 13.
“Where you been?” Justin said. He leaned in toward Carter and sniffed. “You smell like pussy.”
Zach and Justin cackled.
Carter turned and glared at the pair. “Back the fuck up.”
Carter turned the padlock to the left, going through the zero. He stopped at 27 then went back to the right stopping at 4. He yanked on the lock. It didn’t budge.
“Fuck,” Carter said.
Carter restarted the combination sequence.
“Aren’t y’all army boys supposed to be early for everything?” Justin said.
“If you’re not fifteen minutes early, you’re late,” Zach said with a chuckle.
“Shit.” Justin paused, looking at the clock. “You got about four minutes, and you ain’t even in your locker yet.”
The lock finally released. Carter yanked it open and pulled off his T-shirt, tossing it on the top shelf.
“Holy shit,” Justin said.
“What the fuck happened to your back?” Zach said, laughing. “What’d you do, fuck a werewolf?”
Carter ran to the bathroom. The toilets were open, no stalls, only short three-foot-tall dividers. He undid his pants and pulled the condom from his penis, throwing it in the toilet. Zach and Justin marched up behind him, their cleats click-clacking against the tile. Carter pushed his penis back into his boxer briefs and held up his pants.
“Now he’s getting rid of the evidence,” Zach said.
Carter kicked the lever, flushing the condom.
“It’s so sad to see this happen.” Justin cackled. “They get some pussy and then they just can’t control themselves. They become, like, pussy addicts. We’re gonna have to have one of those meeting things …”
“An intervention,” Zach said.
Carter sprinted past his hecklers, back to his locker.
Zach and Justin followed.
“We’d help you, but we gotta get goin’,” Justin said. “Shit, we’re almost late.”
Zach was already jogging gingerly out of the locker room, careful not to slip in his cleats. Justin ambled after.
Carter pulled his pants over his girdle and put his cleats on. He threw his shoulder pads and jersey over his head. He plopped his helmet on and ran out of the locker room, his cleats sliding on the tile. Outside, he reached under his jersey, grabbing a shoulder pad strap as he ran. He secured it to the front of his pads. Just beyond, The Marauders were lined up for stretch. He buckled his chin strap and sprinted across the black top, his mouth piece dangling from his facemask. He continued across the dirt and grass practice field toward the team. His teammates were spelling Marauders with their jumping jacks. Carter slipped into the back of the line as his teammates finished the letter “S.” He breathed a sigh of relief as he bent over and touched his toes on a ten count with the rest of the team.
If he still wore a white jersey, nobody would have noticed. The back of the line was a sea of white. His black jersey stuck out like a sore thumb. Coach Ware stomped toward him. Carter stood and clapped one time along with everyone else at the conclusion of the hamstring stretch. Coach Ware grabbed him by his facemask.
“Why are you late?” he said.
Because I was having sex in the school parking lot. “No excuse, sir,” Carter replied.
Ware shook his head with a smirk. Carter’s reflection was caught in his black shades.
“What did Coach Cowan say yesterday at the end of practice?” Ware said.
“He wanted to see state championship football today,” Carter replied.
“Do you think state champions show up late to practice?”
“No, sir.”
Coach Cowan marched over. Coach Ware glanced at him.
“Here we are, a day away from the first game of the season,” Coach Ware said to Cowan, “and our starting free safety feels like he can show up whenever he wants.”
Coach Cowan shook his head, his eyes narrowed. “What did I tell you in my office after the scrimmage?”
“You told me not to slack off,” Carter said.
Coach Cowan took his hat off and wiped his brow. He was clean-shaven except for his bushy mustache. “God dammit, Carter. I just told y’all yesterday about not testin’ me with the rules. And now you go and do this. You got a good excuse?”
Carter looked down. “No, sir.”
He exhaled and shook his head. “I’m starting Noah tomorrow.”
– 9 –
Back in Black
Carter stood on the corner two streets up from Sarah in his black and gold number 20 jersey. He stepped off the sidewalk into the grass as a handful of freshmen walked by. They leaned forward, their backs heavy with books. He moved back on the s
idewalk, his running shoes wet with dew. He smiled as Sarah turned from her cul-de-sac to the main road. She trudged along the sidewalk with her head down, holding the strap of her pink satchel. She glanced up. He caught her eye. She glared back at him, her mouth shut tight.
“Good morrow to you, Madam,” Carter said in his portentous voice.
She scowled and continued past without a word.
Carter turned and walked next to her. Sarah hogged the sidewalk, forcing Carter to walk in the grass median strip.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“What do you care?”
“If this is about Ben, he’s the one being an asshole.”
She stopped and turned toward Carter. “You really disappoint me. I thought you were different.”
Carter held out his palms. “Different from what?”
She continued walking.
“Seriously, different from what?” he asked.
“Everyone else.”
Carter exhaled. “I don’t know what you want from me.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want anything from you.”
The dew seeped into his socks. “I thought we were friends.”
“So did I,” she said.
“So what’s the problem then?”
“It’s my fault really. I just have a higher standard for my friends.”
Carter frowned. “What the hell does that mean?”
She sighed. “It means I’m not friends with people that do nothing when my friends and I are being abused.”
His face felt hot. “You mean the cafeteria?”
“Was there another incident when you were a coward?”
“That’s bullshit, I’m not afraid of anybody.” He tightened his jaw.
“Then why didn’t you stick up for Ben?”
“Why should I!”
She flinched. “Because he’s your friend.”
“He was never my friend.” He shook his head. “Without you as the bridge between us, we would have never even started hanging out.”
“How about doing the right thing then? Or how about standing up for me?” She placed her hand on her chest as if she were saying the pledge of allegiance.
“Why am I held to some higher standard than everyone else? I didn’t see Ben standing up for you. He was right there. I was across the room.”
She glared, her eyes wet. “Ben’s not capable of standing up to Justin, but you are, aren’t you?”
He looked down at his feet.
“Leave me alone,” she said.
She turned and ran toward the traffic light. The light flashed from walk to the number 20 in red. She sprinted across the street, her skirt floating around her as the number on the sign ticked down to 0. As the cars accelerated past, Carter watched Sarah’s form disappear on the other side of the road.
* * *
They marched two by two on the asphalt sidewalk adjacent to the parking lot. Their black helmets were on, chin straps buckled. They wore black pants and black jerseys with gold trim. The stadium loomed large in the distance. The lights were on, barely visible in the late-afternoon sun. It was muggy and hot, silent except for the click-clack of cleats on the black top. In the distance the scoreboard was lit with 88:49 counting down on the clock. Occasionally a car or truck honked from the parking lot, followed by shouts of encouragement. The lot was mostly full. An eight-foot-tall chain-link fence surrounded the stadium. Fans dressed in black and gold poured in at the open gate, where volunteers took their tickets or their money.
At the end of the asphalt sidewalk, a single gate was open. An old man sat guard just inside on a folding chair. The North Potomac Marauders sauntered onto their field, clustering at the nearby goalpost. Zach was in the middle.
“Hey, y’all,” Zach said. “I’ve never lost a single game in this stadium, and I don’t intend to start now. We play fast, we play aggressive, and we don’t let up … ever. Remember, this is our house. You hear me? This is our fucking house! Back-to-back on three. One, two, three.”
“Back-to-back!” ninety-six kids said in unison.
They lined up in perfect rows and columns and went through their stretch routine. Carter bent over, touching his toes. He turned his head to the right and was blinded by the sun hanging low in the sky. That glare’s gonna suck in the first quarter. He pulled his leg, touching his heel to his butt. A handful of guys hopped around to maintain balance. Fifty yards in front of him, eighty guys in white jerseys, silver pants, and blue trim hit their pads to a beat between each stretch.
After stretch and warmup, Carter ran to the corner of the end zone with Devin, Noah, and the rest of the defensive backs. Coach Pitts stood in khakis and a black polo with an M and crossed swords stitched into the upper left corner. His sleeves barely contained his biceps. He had a toothpick in the corner of his mouth and a resolute smile on his face. Carter and his teammates backpedaled, turned, planted, and sprinted as Coach Pitts whipped the football at them. They jumped and caught the ball at the highest point.
Coach Pitts said, “Bring it in.”
The defensive backs crowded around the coach.
“These guys can play,” Coach Pitts said. “But if we play our game like I know we’re capable of, we’ll be fine. We play fast, we play aggressive, and we don’t give ’em anything easy. And remember, if they do happen to catch a pass, I expect them to pay for it.”
Coach Cowan yelled, “Down at the goal line.”
The scout team defense lined up against the first team offense. The offense scored each time with minimal resistance. A line of players, Carter included, stood behind the offense to conceal their plays from their opponent. They clapped with each practice touchdown.
Carter snuck peeks over his shoulder at their opponent, watching the receivers. They were fluid, graceful, and fast. The quarterback could scramble and he had a decent arm, but he was erratic. If you get in, don’t bite on the play fake. You won’t have the speed to catch up to these guys if you fall behind. If he scrambles, you gotta stick with your man until he crosses the line of scrimmage. And like Coach Pitts said, if they catch anything, they pay for it.
After Coach Ware was satisfied, the first team defense trotted out to face the scout offense. Each play ended with negative yards and some third string running back being pummeled in the backfield.
The Marauders exited the field two-by-two, just like they came in. In the locker room, some guys banged on lockers and pads and bragged about what they were going to do. Some guys were in the bathroom adjusting their uniforms. A couple of guys purged their nerves in the toilets. Some guys joked around. Some looked like they’d been drafted to fight a war they didn’t want to be in. Carter hung his helmet in his locker and sat in front. Devin sat next to him. His eyes were red, his lids droopy. He had Riddell squares stamped into his fade.
“Are you all right?” Carter asked.
Devin shook his head. “I don’t think I slept at all. I was tossing and turning all night.”
“You’ll be fine. That first hit’ll wake you up.”
“I watched a bunch of film. I think these guys are good. Especially number two, Scooter Brooks. You know his uncle plays for the Redskins.”
Carter laughed. “You think that’s his real name?”
Devin frowned. “Hell if I know, but he might be the best receiver in the state. He might even be better than Dwayne.”
“I wouldn’t worry about him if I were you. They’re gonna put him inside, and try to get a mismatch on Noah. And even if they don’t, you got the speed to stick with anybody.”
“You should be starting.”
“It’s my own fault.” Carter shook his head. “I am still on kickoff and punt.”
Coach Cowan stepped into the locker room. “Bring it in,” he said.
Justin stuck his head into the bathroom. “Get in here. Y’all are worse than a bunch a girls.”
The team took a knee on the tile in front of Coach Cowan. The coach said the Lord’s Prayer to bowed heads.
At the conclusion of the prayer, the players looked up with their eyes focused.
Coach Cowan looked them over. “It’s not gonna cool off much tonight, but that’s why we practice in the heat all summer. Make sure y’all are drinkin’ plenty of fluids. I don’t want guys crampin’ up.” He paused, “I’m not gonna stand up here and lie to you. We’re gonna be in for a fight tonight. These guys are big and fast and they’ll hit you right in the mouth. This might be the best team we’ll see until playoffs. Hell, we’ll probably see them again in the playoffs. I know some of you guys are feelin’ nervous and scared. I’m a tell you right now that it’s good that you’re nervous. It’s good that you’re scared. It shows me that you care, that you don’t wanna let your teammates down. The truly courageous aren’t guys that have no fears. The truly courageous are guys that are scared to death, but go anyway. I can promise you one thing. If you come out and use that nervous energy, channel it into a fury, you’ll do things on this football field you never thought possible. Let’s be focused, aggressive, and remember: this is our house. We have a fifty-somethin’ home winning streak to defend. I’d like to keep that goin’.”
“It’s sixty-three, Coach,” Justin said.
Coach Cowan chuckled. “All right then, Justin, break ’em down on sixty-four.”
It was still light out as they marched back to the stadium. The parking lot was packed, cars now spilling out into the grassy overflow. The Marauders walked through the single gate, the old man still guarding entry. They queued up at the goal post. In front of them was a machine blowing smoke. Cheerleaders, a dance team, and pep squad girls lined up on both sides beyond the smoke, forming a human tunnel.
A loud drumbeat and an electric guitar riff tore out of the loudspeakers. Zach burst through the smoke as the first lyric pounded the air. Back in black. Ninety-five guys followed. The music shook the stadium as girls in short black and gold skirts shook pom-poms with bright smiles and glittery makeup.
Carter lined up on the thirty-five-yard line for the kickoff. He was close to the sideline, second to the last man on the end. Carter watched the kicker. His hand was high in the air. He dropped it suddenly and Carter began to run in lockstep with the kicker. He was at full speed when the kicker boomed the ball high and deep into the fading afternoon sun. Carter sprinted downfield, blowing past the big kids in the first wave. Blockers were coming from left to right trying to set up a wall down the sideline. The kickoff returner caught the ball a yard deep in the end zone. He hesitated, glancing down at his feet before sprinting toward the human wall at the sideline. Carter squeezed in, cutting his angle down. He was fifteen yards away. Five yards, still unblocked. He slammed into the returner’s rib cage, tackling him at the ten-yard line.
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