Tim headed to his truck as soon as the bell rang. He had 45 minutes before practice started and had missed lunch. He drove home, made three peanut-butter-and-grape-jelly sandwiches, and gulped down Billy's too-sweet tea, instead of a beer. The boy set his alarm clock and stretched out on his unmade bed, hoping to get a quick nap. When the alarm roused him a short 20 minutes later, he dragged himself back to school.
The locker room was a rowdy place. When Tim entered, the volume dropped noticeably. Guys whispered and starred as he passed. He quietly endured these reactions as he changed into his uniform. After he was dressed, he crossed the locker room to where Smash was sitting with his friends. The conversations around the room died.
Wondering what was about to happen, Smash sat silently watching his teammate approach.
"Smash," the boy started. "I messed up. I'm sorry about yesterday."
"Yeah," Smash drawled. "I bet you are. I heard about your brother whuppin' ya ass!" The boys laughed and jeered as Tim held his ground.
"Yeah, Billy lit me up," Tim grimaced, playing along. The boys roared.
Tim continued, "Turns out, when you bust a window, people get pissed. Who knew?" More laughter. "Seriously, though, Smash, I was dead wrong to throw that bottle at you. ...I'm sorry."
"Alright, alright, Riggins," Smash smiled and held out a hand to Tim. "We good. But I still think ...you got off easy."
Tim heard the good-natured teasing in the boy's last comment. "Oh yeah? Gettin' a whuppin' that the whole town's talkin' about is gettin' off easy?"
"Definitely!" Smash confirmed in mock seriousness. "Apparently you've never spent time in a black woman's house. Be glad you're still walking."
Tim smiled weakly. "Yeah?"
"Yeah," Smash grinned. "Last week, my mama beat my butt for sayin' 'What?' when she was callin' me."
Some of the black boys ooooh-ed loudly, while the others snickered.
"I thought it was my sister hollerin'," the boy shrugged. "Can you imagine what woulda happened if I busted a window while I was drunk? She'd beat me to death with my own arms!"
Leonard Smalls, a light-skinned boy, leaned forward and said, "That ain't nuthin'! My granny made me go pick a switch and cut my butt, …just cause the teacher called her."
"You called Mrs. Johnson a bitch, Smalls! In front of the whole class!" another boy yelled.
"Yeah, well, she knows what she is!" the boy retorted, grinning. "If I had busted out that window, my granny woulda busted me in the head till the white meat showed." Stamping and hoots of laughter followed.
"QB1, what about you?" Smash called, trying to draw quiet Saracen into the conversation.
"What about me?" the boy answered simply.
"When's the last time you got in trouble with your granny?"
"I can't remember. She was never really that tough on me. ...But my dad ...different story," Matt said slowly. "…Last time I got the belt, I think, was when I didn't mow the lawn when I was supposed to."
The boys oooh-ed respectfully.
"And that was just for not doing chores," the boy continued, unexpectedly. "If I'd thrown a bottle through the diner window…? …No one would ever find my body." The locker room exploded with whoops and guffaws.
"There you go, Riggins!" Smash called over the raucous voices. "Even Saracen thinks you got off light!"
"Okay, okay," Tim said, holding up his hand for quiet. "I get it. …Today, in practice, do your worst. All of you. I'll be the target and I'll take all the hits. Okay? Will that make it right?"
"There you go, Riggins! Thinkin' like a team leader!" Smash exclaimed excitedly. Turning to the other boys, he hollered, "Now let's get out there and give this boy ANOTHER WHUPPIN' HE WON'T FORGET!"
With that, Smash led the team out onto the practice field.