DISCLAIMER: Remember the Titans belongs to the mouse. ):
CHAPTER EIGHT
Laying in bed that night, looking up at the wood paneling above me, my mind couldn't help but wander to Gerry. The way, even if I spray painted it on my forehead, he doesn't hear a word I have to say. The way he gets so angry at me that his face plumes red and his fists clench so hard they turn white. Was he laying in his bed, mulling over the way I stomped up to him in the hallway? Or the way I'm not afraid of him? Even if, sometimes, when his rage is aimed in my direction, my knees get wobbly and my heart feels like it's trying to beat its way out of my ribcage?
Probably not.
Coach Boone took me to the side at the beginning of breakfast the next morning and told me that I was welcome to watch today's practices, if I was tired of being cooped up in the library. The sentiment seemed to lift a weight off of my chest, a sigh fighting it's way from my lips before I could stop it. Maybe if I saw them together, saw how the Hammond boys and the GW boys played ball together, heard what they had to say to each other, then maybe I could understand what kind of a chance I'd have at getting through Gerry's thick skull.
A plump, plum faced woman ladled me some oatmeal and set a cup of fruit on my tray, her mouth open in a toothy grin.
"Goodmornin', sweetheart," she greeted. I stood before her, waiting for a serving of grits and sausage, which is what she doled out to every boy in line before me. She noticed how I hung there expectantly, and tutted at me. "Oh, c'mon now. Those boys need the energy. You're a little lady, you gotta start worryin' about that figure of yours, better sooner than later."
Her words made my brows sink low over annoyed eyes. My figure? Whatever figure didn't come with grits and sausage is a figure I didn't want.
"Don't give me that look, girl," she tsked, "move along now, the rest of the boys havta eat, too." My lips pulled down into a pout of their own accord, I stepped out of the line after I snatched up a carton of orange juice and made my way towards the empty seat next to the Rev. My nearly empty tray made harsh contact with the table, making the boys all look up at me, their eyes puffy with the sleep they hadn't managed to get.
"Woah, girl," Blue said with a tired laugh, "you wake up on the wrong side of the bed?" The melancholy kink in my stomach tightened when I got a whiff of everyone's breakfast. Creamy, cheesy grits, plump pork sausage, fried eggs, and toast. My sad meal of plain oatmeal and a cup of apples and grapes was enough to make a tear form in my eye.
"What the hell kinda breakfast is that?" Petey eyed my food with a chuckle, not noticing how my bottom lip was jutted out. "You on a diet or somethin', Yoast?"
"No," I grumbled out, crossing my arms over my chest. "But the lunch lady sure seems to think I should be." Suddenly, I think, the table took note of my downturned mouth, and they shifted awkwardly in their seats.
"Miss Grady didn't let you get more food?" The Rev's question came out almost scandalized, like the thought of anyone being denied food was sinful. I nodded solemnly, using my spoon to poke at the mound of cement in front of me.
"Well," Larry piped up from next to Rev, "she gave me extra grits, if you want some of mine?" The offer made my eyes turn to the brat in surprise, and, if I'm honest, borderline suspicion. None of the Hammond guys would've even thought to share their food. Probably just laugh at my misfortune.
"Really?" He shrugged, holding his large hand out for my food.
"Sure, it's not like I need it," Larry told me as he spooned half of his grits onto the empty spot on my tray. I thanked him with a disbelieving laugh.
"Yeah, where that woman got the idea you needed to count your calories, or whatever, I don't understand," Petey told me with a smile. "If anything, you need to put on a few pounds."
"Here, you can have my egg," said Rev, taking the tray from Larry to slide his fried egg on there, too. "I don't like 'em all that much." I got the sense he was lying, but I was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, and I couldn't wipe the grateful smile off of my face.
"Thanks, Rev," my voice was small, but cheerful. He placed my tray back in front of me with a dutiful nod. "You guys are way nicer than Gerry and Ray and all them." And, while I thought the sentiment was kind, my words made Julius slam his hand down on the table.
"Don't you compare us to them." The abrupt change in mood among the table was so startling I swear I almost got whiplash. My eyes, wide and unblinking, watched Julius as he clenched his fists on either side of his breakfast. "We are never gonna be anything like those animals, alright? Just because you and Bertier are havin' a little fight or somethin' you think you can just come over here and eat our food and shoot the shit? You think treatin' us like human beings makes you better than everyone? Makes you some kinda saint?"
Julius must've noticed the way my hands started tugging anxiously at the hemline of my shirt, because he took a deep, calming breath, and lowered his voice. I guess the way you addressed a lady, with careful words and a soft tone, like we were too fragile to handle a shout, was the same across the fence, too.
"You wanna be friends with us, you wanna talk to us and sit with us. But at the end of the day, you're gonna run back to your people. When we leave camp, you'll go right back to your little, white friends and your white boyfriend and nothin' will change."
His words made my gut churn, and when Blue quietly chided Julius, I didn't hear it because my heart was thumping in my ears. Without warning, I started to feel like an unwelcome, oppressive presence at the table, and I stood, holding my tray tightly.
"You're wrong," I said to Julius, unwavering. He scoffed. "I'm not like that."
"I'll believe that when I see it," he told me, not looking at me when he did. Like I didn't even dignify a glance.
"I take it back." At my clipped bite, Julius blinked up at me, surprised that I had something to say. "You are just like Gerry and Ray. Your head so far up your ass you couldn't see sense if it fell from the sky and knocked you on the forehead. I don't have friends or a boyfriend to go back to when camp is over, ya know that? I have this team, and I have my daddy and Sheryl. Everyone can keep fightin' each other and calling each other names and hatin' each other, but somethin's gotta give. Somethin' has to change."
"Oh, and we're the ones expected to do the changin'? We're the ones who have to roll over and shake our tails and be thankful that the white boys are givin' us a chance?"
I guess I'd never thought of it like that. The Hammond boys weren't giving the GW boys a chance because they were afraid of change. Bigotry was taught to them by their daddy's and mama's, and they were afraid to let people who were different from them into their sacred space. It wasn't a very good reason, but it was a reason, nonetheless.
While, the GW boys didn't give the Hammond boys a chance because they'd run out of chances to give. Whites had been smashing down anything the Blacks tried to do since, what felt like, the beginning of time. Shoving them back into the boxes we'd put them in, anytime they tried to step out. People like the GW boys had been giving chances for a long time, only to end up disappointed. Or worse, like in the case of the drug store owner and the poor boy he shot and killed, they'd end up dead.
"You're right," I told him as I stiffened my upper lip. "It shouldn't be up to you guys to make all of this right. It ain't fair." My remark was met with a huff. I shifted nervously on my Chuck Taylors, watching Julius mull over his next words.
"You don't have to tell us its unfair, Yoast," he said to me, a touch gentler than he'd been moments before. "We already know. Now, you go on and tell your boyfriend and his friends." Instead of arguing that Gerry was not my boyfriend, and that, in fact, I felt something more akin to hate then love, I just pursed my lips into a thin line, and turned to take a seat at the coach's table.
While I ate, I listened to the coaches discuss plays and adjust drills and laugh about something a player did at yesterday's practice. It was nice, being at a table with a blended mix of folks, hearing them talk to each other like there wasn't anything wrong besides how the sun beat down too hard in the August evening. Maybe it was naive of me, maybe I didn't get the whole picture like I thought I did, but couldn't the boys look at the coaches and see how easy it could be to just treat each other like humans? Well, at least how Daddy and Boone and Doc treated each other. Coach Hynes was still a bit behind, I decided, observing the way he seemed to sneer to himself whenever either of the Black coaches spoke. Hynes was an old dog, maybe that was a habit he wouldn't be able to break.
Even in the morning hours, when the grassy gridiron was still dewy from the cooler night before, that Pennsylvania sun was unforgiving. It blinded me where I sat, tucked away to the side of the field, my denim Bermuda shorts absorbing the heat from the metal bleachers. I leaned my elbows back on the row of benches behind me as I watched the boys do their warm ups.
Boone was a ruthless coach, I realized, watching him blow that whistle of his like he was born doing it. He grinned as the boys' movements grew laggard and slow, and when it seemed like they couldn't take anymore, he decided it was time to run some plays. Their teamwork was sloppy, and whoever had the ball only cared about running it down the field as far as they could, even if that was only a few yards. Selfish, I thought. You can't be a team when you don't even want to block for your quarterback.
When Boone finally took mercy on the team, and let them take a five minute break, most of the players beelined to the water cooler, where Sheryl had set out a sea of Dixie cups for the boys to choose from, all filled to the brim with cold, ice water. All except Gerry, who sidled up to sit next to me, his helmet locked in his fingers.
"You're gonna get me banished back to the library, Gerry," I warned him. He took a deep, labored breath, his eyes on his teammates, who elbowed each other for cups of water. Gerry's skin was coated in a sheen of sweat, and his kit was stained with grass and dirt. He didn't say anything for a minute, just watched the boys on the field, breathing hard.
"You met Campbell?" The question threw me a bit, and I blinked at him before I answered, holding my hand up to shield my eyes from the sun as I stared at him.
"Yeah," I said quietly. Gerry was watching his suit mate across the field as he talked to Blue and a GW boy I was yet to meet.
"You saw him play today?"
"Yeah, Gerry, I was sittin' right here." My sarcasm was met with no response, which made me deflate a little. Gerry was so distracted he didn't even think to reprimand me for being a smart ass. He only hummed to show he'd heard me at all. After another second or so, he seemed to shake off whatever was bothering him, and he turned to look at me.
"So, since I gotta tell Coach about the Black players' lives and all that, you got any particulars you can give me about your new friends?" I scoffed.
"No," my voice was harsh, but not quite rude. "Maybe if you spent this time talking to them instead of me, you wouldn't need to cheat." This just made Gerry roll his eyes, but still, he didn't admonish me like he normally did. He just sighed and stood from the metal bench, rolling his shoulders back, trying to soothe the ache there, I guessed.
"Thought I'd give it a try, at least." When my only response was a contemptuous look, he turned to jog over to the water cooler.
There seemed to be a slight turning point after that practice. During lunch, there were white players mingling with black players. The task, among most of them, seemed strained and uncomfortable. But it was an effort, nonetheless. And I happily took a seat at Blue's table again, listening as him and a running back made awkward small talk.
"Don't you laugh at me, Yoast," Blue grumbled when the Hammond boy scurried away to talk to another player.
"Oh, I'd never think of it, Blue," I assured him, using my hand to hide my giggles of amusement. He tutted at me, and continued to fill his mouth with roasted chicken and green beans. "You talked to a lot of the Hammond boys, yet?"
"As many as I can," he told me around a mouth full. "These three-a-day's ain't no joke."
"You talk to Gerry, yet? Or Ray?"
"No, ma'am." His answer was short, like he had a reason for it that he didn't wanna tell me.
"You'll have to eventually," I said hesitantly.
"And when I have to, I will." My bottom lip got itself wedged between my teeth at his words. Gerry was one thing. He was a hardheaded, aggressive, smart ass. At the very least, though, he had a sense of humor, but Ray, oh Ray. He had the genuine potential to be dangerous. Ray was an asshole who wouldn't know a joke from a tax audit, and I was someone who found out the hard way that he wasn't above violence when it came to a jibe he didn't understand. "What's goin' on with you and Bertier, anyways? We heard him call his girl last night. Real lovey on her, too. So, what are you, the girl he keeps on the side?"
"What?" Blue's sudden line of questioning was enough to make my heart drop down into my feet. "No."
"C'mon now, Diana. Do you think everyone in this camp is blind?" My jaw bobbed up and down like a fish out of water, trying to form a response.
"Gerry's my friend, I guess," I replied, unsure. "I mean, he can be an asshole, but I think we're friends." Blue eyed me closely, waiting for me to continue. "What the hell does keeping a girl on the side mean?" Blue chuckled at that, his questioning stare softening up just a little bit.
"Diana Yoast, you are one weird chick," he told me with a laugh. While the words sounded like an insult, the way Blue was smiling at me made me feel a bizarre sense of camaraderie. Like he knew I was a few apples short of a barrel, but he didn't care, and he liked me anyway.
"Do you want me to introduce you to 'em?" The suggestion flew from my mouth before I even had time to think about the possible ramifications of that action. Boys tended to get real indignant when I tried giving them any type of advice. If Blue had any sense, he'd tell me to get lost, preventing any unforetold skirmishes.
"To who?" His face was incredulous and surprised, but not angry.
"T-To Gerry and Alan and Kurt and all of them," I told him hesitantly. It was odd, being afraid of making someone mad. Blue was the first GW player to even spare me a glance. I'd only known him for a few days and he already treated me better than any of those snot nosed boys Daddy coached. The idea of pissing him off so much that I lost him as a friend made an anxiety churn down in my gut. Was this how it felt to be a real lady? Always bending over backwards to keep the men around you happy?
"Eh, I don't know, Di." Blue was opposed to the idea, I could tell.
"No, c'mon," I pushed, suddenly feeling incensed about his attempted refusal. "I'll introduce you guys and get the ball rollin' and boom, that's three more players for you to tell Boone about."
"Girl, I'm tryin' to eat my lunch," he grumbled around a mouthful, his brows low over his dark eyes. My bottom lip fell out on its own at the dismissal. Maybe he was right, maybe I've done all I could do. Coach Boone would just have to figure out the rest on his own.
"Hey, Di," I suddenly heard Petey's voice from behind me, his sour face coming into view as he dropped his tray beside mine with a resolute clatter. "Do all your little boyfriends get their own stick to put up their ass, or do they take turns sharin' one?"
"Well, it wouldn't be very sanitary if they shared one, would it?"
"Somethin' tells me your boys don't keep personal hygiene very high on their list of priorities." To further punctuate Petey's statement, he gestured to a table of Hammond offensive linemen who were caught in a rather rousing game that I wasn't familiar with. It involved filling your mouth with as much food as possible while the person in front of you said something, most likely a joke, and tried to make you sputter out your lunch.
"Fair point," I conceded, my nose scrunching up at the display of chewed up roast chicken flying from a player's jowls. It was hard to believe that these were going to be the boys to take our school to the championship. Coach Boone was in for one hell of a ride.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: still kind of a slow start. I promise the next chapter should have some excitement. When the next chapter will be posted, I've not a clue. I have a couple of days off from work so maybe I'll be struck with inspiration. Also, this is not related to anything in this story, but has anyone watched the LOKI series on Disney+? What are your opinions on it if you have? I love marvel so if you also love marvel, lets be friends. Lets plan a Marvel AU together. Lets storm the offices of disney and demand a better ending for steve rogers. seriously.
As always, favorites, follows, and reviews motivate me like nothing else. Thank you for reading this extremely niche story!