Knights of the Hill Country (7 page)

“Wow,” I said.

“I didn't mean to get so serious like that.”

“No,” I said. “I'm glad you told me.” I studied the salt-shaker for a moment. I knew I had to tell her about my dad after all. It would've been selfish somehow if I didn't after what all she just told me. “My dad run off on us,” I said, just like that. “I don't even see him anymore.”

“How old were you?”

“Eight. I guess it was like its own kind of car wreck in a way. My mom sure didn't come out the same afterwards. But I don't guess either one of us had one of them hospital moments when we realized what to do about it.”

I could feel her looking at me, but I couldn't do nothing but stare an extra set of holes in that saltshaker. I was afraid if I looked up in them brown eyes right then, I might have to realize who I really was after all, and I didn't think I was ready for that.

“I'm sure you'll figure it out one of these days,” she said.

“Maybe.”

“Have you thought about what you're going to do after high school?”

I knew what she was doing—trying to get the conversation back on something lighter. It was one more thing to like her for.

“I'll play college ball,” I said, shifting in my seat. “See how
that goes. If pros don't work out after that, I guess I'll go into coaching. I don't know what kind of coach I'd make—I ain't that great at telling folks what to do—but that's pretty much the only other thing there is if you don't go pro.”

“There's other things besides sports,” she suggested.

“I know, but I ain't much good at anything else. Blaine's dad told us if we want to succeed at something, we have to set our sights on that one thing and go after it, and for me that one thing is pretty much football.”

“You don't have to do it just because he said so, you know. You could experiment around, maybe find something else too.”

“Uh, yeah, I guess I don't
have
to.” She'd caught me off guard with that. I mean, Blaine and his dad was pretty much the only ones outside of my coaches that ever bothered to give me much in the way of advice. Didn't hardly seem right for Sara to jump in and start questioning an authority like Mr. Keller.

“I'm just saying, it's your life,” she said.

“I know.” I was back to staring down the saltshaker. All the sudden, it was real important to make Sara understand how it was with me and the Kellers, but I didn't know how to go about it. Her father might've been in a wheelchair, but at least he was there. All I had was Blaine and his dad.

“It's not that there's anything wrong with football,” she said. “But you surely have some other interests too.”

“Well.” I was starting to feel unsure of myself again. “I like to go hunting.”

“Hunting?”

I realized how stupid that sounded. Like maybe I thought I'd make me a career out of hunting later on, wearing a safari jacket and one of them funny-looking round helmets and all.
The whole conversation had been going so good, and now it was coming apart faster than the Lowery Mud Hens' defensive line.

“I mean, it's not so much the hunting part I like.” I was stumbling around the way I do when I haven't thought things through. “My real favorite part of it is just being out there in the woods. You get out there early in the morning with the dew still on the leaves and the grass and everything, and it's just a whole different world. The sun's coming up, and it's cool and quiet, and everything's real still. It's like you're part of everything around, and you just get this huge feeling inside. That's what I like.”

I looked up, expecting her to be staring at me like I was a crazy man, but she wasn't.

“Sounds nice,” she said. She was looking off towards the wall like she could see the morning sun hanging over the hill instead of the antique Coke signs and wagon wheels that really hung up there.

“You don't think it sounds stupid?”

“No. Why would I think that?”

“Oh, you know, the big jock talking about walking around in nature, looking at the sun coming up and all.”

“You know what I think?” she said. “I think you sound real spiritual.”

“Spiritual? Me? I don't know about that. The only times I get to church is when the Kellers take me with them. My mom stopped going a long time ago.”

“I don't mean it like that. Not spiritual like a preacher or anything. It's just how you are inside. You're quiet but not so much in a shy way. More like you're waiting till there's something worthwhile to say.”

I had to laugh at that. “I guess I haven't found it yet.”

“Oh, I don't know.” She twisted a wild strand of hair around her finger for a second. “Maybe you just haven't found the right person to hear it yet. What you were just saying about walking out in the woods in the morning, that sounded pretty worthwhile to me.”

“I sure like it out there,” I said, feeling like I'd somehow got the conversation back on the right track. “You should go check it out sometime. There's a great place to go right out on the other side of Highway Two.”

She looked down, and her hair hid most of her face. “I will.”

That's when it hit me.
You stupid idiot, you need to tell this girl that you'll take her out there your own self.
It was as clear as day. I could take her out there this weekend, go to all the best spots, bring some sandwiches, hike up to them cliffs over Lake Hawkshaw, and look off across the water to where the hills rolled away into the sky.

The bell over the door jingled.

Before I even got turned all the way around, I knew who come in. It was just my luck with girls. There they was, Jake and Blaine.

“Hey, Sheryl,” Jake called to his sister. “Set us up some Cokes.”

“Get 'em yourself,” she told him.

“Aw now, Sheryl,” Blaine said. “Is that any way to act towards a couple hardworking football players?”

I could wish all I wanted that they'd just hang around at the front counter and not pay any attention to us in the back, but it wouldn't do no good.

“What the hell?” Blaine grinned real big when he seen me, but it wasn't a friendly grin. “I can't believe my eyes. It's the
great Hampton Green. Who's this here you're with, Hamp, your personal secretary?”

“Hey now,” Sheryl said. “You leave them alone and come get you a Coke.”

Course, it didn't do no good. Jake and Blaine headed straight for our table.

“Don't tell me you're in here doing actual homework,” Jake said, eyeing over the textbooks setting there on the table.

“Hampton doing homework? No way.” Blaine pulled out a chair, spun it around, and set down with his arms resting on the back of it. “I don't believe we've met,” he said to Sara, like he didn't even know who she was. “I'm Blaine Keller.”

“I know,” she said. “We've been going to the same school since eighth grade.”

“So, what's the deal? You filling my boy in on all the answers?” Blaine picked up her history book and pretended to look it over.

“Actually,” she said, “Hampton's been finding most of the answers.”

“No way,” Jake said.

I started to come out with how interesting some of that Civil War stuff was, but I knew neither one of them boys would buy that. Probably would've thought I was trying to put on a show for Sara. Fact was, I couldn't hardly think up anything decent to say. It was almost like I was setting between two sides of people who didn't speak the same language.

“How'd y'all get here anyways?” Blaine set the book down. “You walk?”

“Yeah,” I said, looking down.

“Damn, son, you must've been desperate to get some help. That's a good thirty-minute hike for you.”

“Really?” Sara said. “I didn't know you had to walk that far to my house.”

I shrugged.

“I'll get my mom to drive you home when we get back,” she said.

“Naw, forget that,” Blaine said. “I'll drive y'all home.”

I glared at him. “That's okay.”

“Are you kidding? It's no problem.” He gave me the wide-eyed innocent look, but he knew it was a problem, all right. For me. “Just let me and Jake throw back a couple Cokes real quick. We can't have Kennisaw's star linebacker traipsing all over town after football practice. You might blow out an ankle or something.”

This would've been a perfect moment for my time-freezing skill to kick in, but there wasn't no chance for it to work when it come to dealing with people like this. I couldn't think of excuse one. The café was closing and the Civil War worksheet was about all filled out. Nothing left to do but just go along.

Blaine and Jake got their Cokes, and me and Sara packed our books into our backpacks. Citronella was parked out front, one tire up on the curb. I climbed into the back along with Sara, but I doubted there'd be much chance between here and her house to talk to her about any walks in the country or anything else.

We hadn't no more than pulled away from the curb when Blaine started in. “Hey, Sara, did Hamp tell you how I saved his life back in junior high?” He glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “Really, I saved his life more than once, but
this one time back in seventh grade when he got involved with square dancing, he would've been toast if I hadn't come along.”

“Not that story,” I groaned.

“The deal was, his mother started dating this nerdy little guy who was some kind of kingpin in square-dancing clubs, so she joined up and made Hampton get in the junior square-dancing league or whatever it was called. It was hilarious. He shows up outside the junior high gym for some kind of practice or competition or something, and he's wearing this whole outfit. Red straw hat, red shirt and neckerchief, and red pants. Red damn pants!”

Jake laughed. “Hampton Green, the dancing machine!”

You can bet I was blushing redder than any square-dancing outfit ever thought about being. I glanced over at Sara but couldn't read her expression. I hoped maybe she wouldn't think red pants and a red straw hat was as stupid as everyone else. Or at least that she'd figure I wasn't real likely to dress that way if we was ever to go for a walk in the country together.

“Well,” Blaine went on, shooting Sara another look in the rearview mirror. “You can probably guess what happened. Hamp's waiting around out in the parking lot there, and these five eighth graders come up, and they can't believe their eyes. They swoop right in on him like a pack of blue jays and start calling him cowgirl and Dolly Parton and all kinds of names. And one guy gets to shoving him, saying, 'Come on, Dolly, get out your guitar and sing us a song.'

“That's when I rode up on my bike. Now, Hamp and me have been buddies since fourth grade, so I ain't gonna set still for this kind of stuff out of a few measly eighth graders. So I
charge right up into the middle of 'em and say, 'All right there, tough guys, just back on off if you don't want to have to drag your butts out of here in a sling.'”

“That's not exactly how I remember it,” I said, but old Blaine just kept going without missing a beat.

“Then the biggest one of 'em asks me where my army is, 'cause I'm gonna need one in about two seconds. Usually, I would've pitched in right then and started swinging, but there was five of these dudes. And they was
big
! So I had to think fast. So I said, 'Boys, boys, we ain't got time to fight. Can't you see my buddy here has a date with ten different girls at the same time?'

“That sure got their attention. They all wanted to know how one kid, and a seventh grader to boot, could get a date with ten different girls. So I went into this whole deal about how these square-dancing clubs was almost completely made up of girls, and any time they could get a real live boy to dance with instead of another girl, they was all over him like shark bait.

“Course, old Hamp didn't even know which end was up on a girl, but I had them boys convinced he was a one-man wrecking crew. By the time I got done, every one of 'em was ready to go out and buy their own pair of red pants and get to do-si-doing all over the place. But I'll guarantee you I got Hamp out of there, and he ain't never square-danced another lick since then.”

I checked Sara again to see how disgusted she was with me, but she just stared straight into the rearview mirror at Blaine and said, “There isn't anything wrong with square dancing.”

It took Blaine a little off guard 'cause he couldn't even get one of his usual snickery comebacks fired off before old Jake cut in with a story of his own.

“Hey,” he said. “Have y'all ever heard the one about the three cheerleaders and the giant pickle?”

I was pretty relieved there. It was fixing to be one of Jake's dirty jokes, but that was still a far sight better than Blaine telling any more of his tales. I just wanted to get back to Sara's house, maybe walk her up to the door and talk to her in private for a second at least.

Jake's story was just winding down when we got there. He turned around to deliver the last line. “And the third cheerleader says, 'That's not a pickle!'”

Nobody but him and Blaine laughed. Sara just shot me this kind of painful smile and reached over for the door handle. She looked about like she was ready to jump out the door before we even stopped all the way. Before I could say anything, she done looped the strap of her backpack over her shoulder and was standing on the driveway looking back in at me. I never even got a chance to offer to walk her to the door.

“I'll see you at school tomorrow,” she said.

“Yeah,” I said. “I'll see you there. I'll look up them last two answers on the worksheet when I get home.”

She started to close the door but then stopped, and a nervous little flicker showed up in her eyes. “I was wondering,” she said. “My parents told me there's going to be a real good bluegrass band playing over at the Wild West Days festival this weekend. Have you heard about that?”

“No,” I said, not picking up on a single clue of what she was hinting at. “I don't know much about bluegrass music.”

“So, I guess you hadn't thought about going over there, then?”

“I hadn't thought about it, no.” Then it dawned on me. What an idiot I was. She wanted to go see that band. But
before I could say I thought it sounded like fun, Blaine cut right in on me.

“Sure, you thought about it,” he said, looking back at me. “Remember, Rachel and me and you and Misty are going over there together. It's all set.”