Bama Boy (8 page)

Jimbo grinned down at me. “Well, I reckon everybody’s thinkin’ that, but so far you’re the only one who’s come right out and said it.”

“You know what I mean! You don’t have to subject yourself to this kind of treatment. Why don’t you go on home? Maybe by Monday things will have cooled off some.”

He gave a snort of humorless laughter. “If they got any cooler, I’d freeze to death! Tracy, you don’t understand. I had to come to this party, or it would’ve looked like I was ashamed to show my face. I’m not particularly proud of throwin’ away a game in the final seconds, but the only thing I really regret is that the rest of the team has to suffer because I made a bad decision. They’re the ones I feel bad for. As for everybody else, if they think they can do any better, they’re welcome to try.”

“Bravo! But I don’t see how you can laugh about it.”

“Self-defense. I gotta laugh so I don’t cry.”

I heaved a little sigh of pure contentment. “Jimbo Maxwell, you’re a class act.”

I was vaguely aware of the sound of a telephone ringing in another room, but didn’t pay much attention until Maggie came up to us.

“Brian just called,” she told me. “His ankle isn’t broken, but he’s at home with an ice pack on it. I told him I’d be right over. Are you ready to go?”

I was extremely reluctant to leave Jimbo alone, but I had made a promise. “I’ll get my purse.”

I started to step away from him, but Jimbo held my arm.

“You go ahead, Maggie,” he said. “I’ll take Tracy home.”

Maggie positively beamed at us. “Jimbo, you’re an angel! You two have a good time. Bye!”

Maggie made her escape before I could protest, but she needn’t have worried; I wasn’t about to leave. Instead, I nestled my head into the curve of Jimbo’s neck. He hummed softly into my ear as we danced, and it all felt so warm and so right that I began to wonder exactly what was in that punch I’d been drinking.

By the time we left the party, it was almost midnight. We climbed into Jimbo’s truck, and he switched on the radio.

“Do you mind?” he asked. “I’d like to hear a final score on the Lee-Mitchell game.”

We talked about the party until the sports announcer’s voice came over the radio. We both fell silent while he recited the final scores of all the area football games, including an account of Hillcrest’s thrilling last-second victory over the previously undefeated Elmore Eagles.

“I could have gone all night without hearin’ that,” Jimbo said, turning off the radio.

“But still no score on Lee-Mitchell,” I remarked.

“Well, they were playin’ at Mitchell, and that’s a pretty far piece,” Jimbo pointed out. “They’re probably just now gett’n’ back home, so I’ll bet the final score hasn’t been called in yet.”

We spent the next few minutes exploring various hypothetical situations that might return Elmore to the state playoff picture. Things didn’t look very hopeful, but there was still a chance, however remote. If Lee had somehow managed to pull out a win over Mitchell, then Elmore’s playoff hopes were still alive. It was the simplest scenario, but it would take nothing short of a miracle. As Jimbo explained, Mitchell was the two-time area champion, and Lee had only won two games all season. Deep in conjecture, Jimbo hardly noticed the school bus making a left-hand turn onto the highway in front of us.

“Jimbo!” I grabbed his sleeve. “Did you see that bus?”

“Yeah. What about it?”

“It was full of football players,” I said, my excitement growing. “And the only area high school in that direction is—”

“—Lee High School!” we said together.

“Hang on, Tracy,” said Jimbo, flooring the accelerator. “We’re gonna catch us a bus!”

Jimbo’s truck wasn’t exactly built for speed, but then, neither was Lee’s bus. We pulled up beside it at the next traffic light, and Jimbo rolled down the window and stuck his head out.

“Hey, Lee!” he yelled. “Who won?”

As if on cue, every window on the bus came down, and football players’ heads, arms, and even someone’s foot hung out the window. With everyone yelling at once, it was hard to understand what anyone was saying, but I couldn’t imagine any team being so excited over a loss.

“We did!” one voice finally rose over the rest. “We whipped Mitchell seventeen to fourteen!”

Jimbo ducked back inside the truck and caught me up in a rib-cracking hug. “Did you hear that, Tracy? We’ve still got a chance!”

We were absolutely giddy with joy for the rest of the drive. We laughed and sang along with the radio at the top of our lungs, and when we reached my front door, Jimbo put his hands on my shoulders and pulled me close.

“Tracy, I thought you were terrific tonight.”

His voice held no trace of our earlier silliness, and when I looked up into his eyes, I felt as if I were drowning in their blue depths.

“I thought you were pretty terrific yourself.”

Jimbo grinned. “Yeah, so did Hillcrest High School! I mean it, Tracy. This night started out as a total disaster, and you managed to turn it into somethin’ special.”

“I think the Lee High School football team had a lot more to do with it than I did.”

“You know, for a smart girl, you’re not very bright,” Jimbo said tenderly, and as he took me in his arms, we both knew how this evening was going to end.

One last remaining shred of common sense warned me that I shouldn’t let Jimbo kiss me when I was practically going steady with Anthony, but I didn’t want to listen. In less than four days, Anthony would be back in town and Jimbo would be lost to me forever. Why shouldn’t I have my one night of happiness? I lifted my face to his, and he bent his head and—

At that moment the porch light came on. We jumped apart as the front door opened, revealing Dad in his bathrobe and slippers.

“Tracy Annette Brock, do you know what time it is?” he demanded sleepily.

I turned back to Jimbo. “I’ve got to go.”

“Goodnight, Tracy Annette Brock,” he said gently.

“Goodnight, James Robert Maxwell.”

“Junior.”

“Junior,” I echoed, then turned and followed Dad into the house, shutting the door softly behind me.

My sanity returned with the harsh light of day, and I knew Dad had probably done me a favor by interrupting before I could do anything I might regret later. As for my one magical night with Jimbo, it was best not to think about that. Maybe in time I would forget.

But when Jimbo came strolling into physics class Monday morning wearing dark glasses and a trench coat with the collar turned up to hide his face, I knew I could never forget him. I might recover eventually, if I was lucky, but I would never forget.

“Jimbo, what are you doing in that get-up?” I asked, as he took his usual place at the desk behind me.

“Shhh!” Jimbo leaned forward conspiratorially and pushed his sunglasses down to the end of his nose, looking at me over the rim. “I’m incognito. Do you think anybody’ll recognize me?”

“The minute you open your mouth,” I told him. “Have they been too hard on you?”

“Nah, most people have been pretty nice. I think the party Friday night helped a lot, too.”

“I’m glad. I’d hate to think you endured that torture for nothing.”

Jimbo grinned, and his dimples would have been recognizable through any disguise. “Oh, I dunno about that. It had its bright spots. Why don’t we try it again this weekend? Only this time, we won’t invite the Lee High School football team.”

Oh, how I wanted to accept! But Anthony’s empty desk sat there in front of me, a silent reminder of my impending doom.

“I’m afraid I can’t,” I managed to choke out.

“Next weekend, maybe?”

“Never. I’m sorry, Jimbo.”

Poor Jimbo looked totally confused. “Well, maybe I’m crazy, but I could’ve sworn—”

“It’s Anthony. He and I have—well, sort of an understanding.”

“Oh. I see.” Jimbo gave a little laugh, but there was no humor in the sound. “I lose a game and a girl in just three days. I must be on a roll.”

“I’m sorry I misled you, Jimbo. It’s just that everyone was treating you so badly, and I felt sorry for you. You’re a nice guy and a good friend.”

“But that’s all?”

I crossed my fingers underneath my desk. “That’s all.”

Jimbo smiled a strange, twisted smile. “Well, it’s not exactly what I’d been hopin’ for, but I guess it beats nothin’.”

Mercifully, the tardy bell rang before I was forced to think of a reply. I turned away from Jimbo and faced the front of the room, but I could feel his eyes on me, and I felt like a creep for hurting the most wonderful guy in the world.

At lunchtime, I sat at a table and pushed cold macaroni and cheese around on my plate. I wasn’t even aware that Maggie had joined me until she spoke.

“Gosh, Trace, you look awful! We’re not pining away for Anthony, are we?”

“No, but I’ll be glad when he gets back. My willpower is getting weaker by the day.”

“Didn’t you have a good time Friday night? I was hoping you and Jimbo would work things out.”

“We worked things out, all right! We worked things out so well that this morning he asked me out.”

“Tracy!” Maggie squealed. “What did you tell him?”

“What else
could
I tell him? I turned him down. I had to, Mags! I’m in love with him, and he feels the same way about me—he practically told me so! So I turned him down, and now he probably thinks I’m a tease.”

Maggie let out a long, low whistle. “Isn’t that going to make things a little awkward tomorrow night when he comes over for tutoring?”

“I’d forgotten all about that!” I groaned. “And Richie’s got a ball game, so Mom and Dad will be gone. That means I’ll be alone with Jimbo for almost an hour! Maggie, what should I do?”

“Well, you could give me your apple, if you’re not going to eat it,” suggested Maggie, ever helpful.

* * * *

The following evening, I approached my mother as she dressed for Richie’s football game.

“Mom, can I talk to you for a minute?” I asked, sitting down on the foot of her bed.

She looked up from applying her makeup. “Of course, Tracy. What’s the matter?”

I shrugged in what I hoped was an offhand manner. “I was just wondering if it was really necessary for you and Dad both to go to Richie’s game tonight. I thought maybe one of you could go, and the other could stay home with me.”

Mom smiled. “This is a switch! Usually you can’t get us out of the house fast enough. Why the sudden change?”

“Jimbo will be coming over tonight, and I—I don’t want to be alone in the house with him.”

Mom’s smile disappeared, and she looked seriously alarmed. “Tracy!”

“No, no!” I assured her, knowing she was thinking of Russ. “It’s nothing like that. Jimbo wouldn’t do something like that. It’s just that I—I sort of wish he would.”

She gave me an understanding smile. “He is a nice boy, isn’t he?”

A
nice boy
? She had to be kidding!

“Mom,
Richie
is a nice boy! Jimbo is—is—I don’t know. It’s all so confusing! I always thought I knew exactly what I wanted in a boy, and Anthony seems to have all those things. I ought to be crazy about him, but I’m not. Instead I keep thinking about Jimbo, even though he’s not at all what I’ve been looking for.”

“Maybe you’ve been looking for the wrong things,” Mom suggested.

I thought about that after Mom, Dad, and Richie were gone and I was alone. I had made a list of all the things that made Jimbo undesirable, but I hadn’t given much thought to what had attracted me to him in the first place. He was awfully easy on the eyes, for one thing, but that wasn’t it; Anthony was better looking, and so were several other boys I could name.

It was easy to say I’d gotten a crush on him because he was a football star, but that wasn’t it, either. He’d been a hero, but he’d also been a scapegoat, and he’d handled both roles with poise and dignity. As for academics, he might not be on the same plane with Anthony, but he had his own brand of gentle wisdom that Anthony wouldn’t know if he met it on the street.

Looking back, it seemed ridiculous to think I had ever hoped to reform him. Jimbo didn’t need to change to suit me or anyone else. He was pretty wonderful just the way he was.

The jangling of the telephone jolted me out of my introspections. Maybe it was Jimbo, calling to say he couldn’t come tonight. Would that be good or bad? I ran to the kitchen to answer the phone, my heart pounding.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Tracy.”

“Anthony, I didn’t know you were back,” I said, fighting back a strange mixture of disappointment and relief. “How was the convention?”

“It was all right. They kept us pretty busy, but not half as busy as you’ve been.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve heard all about your date, Tracy. You couldn’t even wait until I got out of town!”

“Anthony, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said impatiently.

“I’m talking about you and Jimbo Maxwell at Tiffany’s party. I’m beginning to wonder who’s been tutoring whom!”

“It wasn’t like that at all!”

“Oh no? Tiffany said if the two of you had been slow dancing any closer, you’d have been looking out of the same pair of eyes!”

“I didn’t know you set so much store by Tiffany’s opinion,” I retorted.

“Then you don’t deny it!” Anthony accused.

“Deny dancing with Jimbo? No, I don’t!”

“And I suppose you don’t deny that he took you home, either!”

“No, I don’t!”

“Or that he kissed you goodnight!”

“No, I—yes, I do! He did no such thing. But he would have if Dad hadn’t interrupted, and I wouldn’t have stopped him.”

“Tracy, Tracy,” Anthony sighed. “Can’t you see you deserve better than that loser?”

“Jimbo isn’t a loser! Just because the team lost one game—”

“Who’s talking about football? I’m talking about life! The guy’s a nobody who’ll never amount to anything. Maybe I should have seen this coming, but to tell you the truth, I thought you had better sense.”

“I thought I had better sense, too,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “In fact, I had so much sense that I was prepared to go steady with you rather than admit that I’d fallen for a boy I thought was beneath me. Thank you for opening my eyes! I don’t care if he
is
a redneck—Jimbo Maxwell is a finer person than you’ll ever be!”