Disclaimer: TC Williams High School and its environs belong to the city of Alexandria, VA. The original Titans and Joe Namath belong to themselves. The fictitious characters from the film Remember the Titans belong to Disney. The title of this chapter is taken from the 1973 Marvin Gaye song. "You Are the Sunshine of My Life" and "Jazzman" belong to Stevie Wonder and Carole King, respectively; while the line "Good day, Sunshine" was taken from the 1966 Beatles song of the same title. The name of the TC Williams literary magazine was taken from Longer Letter Later, a book by Ann M. Martin and Paula Danziger, and came originally from the poem of the same name by Langston Hughes. I do not own any of the books or any of the schools mentioned in this chapter. I only own Tamsin, Jonathan, Diana, Landry's, Maxie's and Homegrown & Organic. I also own Cat's brother Elliot and his band.
Technical Notes: Tamsin's poem "Dear John" really exists — at least the first two lines do!
Author's Notes: Finally, I've updated! I'm sorry about the long wait, but real life interfered in a big way recently. I've also been busy with other projects and am actually having a hard time finishing the next chapter as well. (Guess why.) Thanks to Frodo Girl for the review (why did you remove your story?); and thanks as always to the repeat reviewers for their tremendous encouragement. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Happy Easter!
Chapter Twelve — Trouble Man
Despite the loss to the Eagles, the sun still rose the next morning. Quite a few of the TC Williams students were grumbling that they should have been given the day off after the excitement of last night's game, but everyone dragged themselves out of bed and off to school anyway.
Ronnie was in his usual spot, doing his daily tai chi, when Gerry rolled up. "Hey, Sunshine."
"Hey, Gerry," Ronnie said. "How are you doing?"
"Not bad," he replied, and chuckled ruefully. "Could be better, though."
"I heard that." As the blond boy turned his body and threw a fist, he noticed that his friend was alone. "Hey, where's Julius? At home licking his wounds?"
"Heck, no!" Gerry protested, sounding more like his usual self. "Not in the way you mean, anyway. Julius is home and resting, but that's because he had quite a game last night."
"That's right, he did," Ronnie admitted. Big Julius had thrown himself, body and soul, into last night's game. Both body and soul had taken quite a beating.
"He'll be back tomorrow. Hey, Tamsin."
"Hi, Gerry," Tamsin's voice replied. "Good morning."
Ronnie glanced over his shoulder in the middle of his Single Whip to see her join Gerry. "Hey, Tamsin," he said, smiling at her as he concluded his tai chi. "Ready to go in?"
"Oh, thanks a lot, Sunshine," Gerry griped playfully as the blond boy scooped up his books. "Leave me to freeze my butt off and wait 'til she gets here before suggesting we go in."
"I wasn't done when you first arrived," Ronnie bantered back, taking Tamsin's books as well.
"And no one was stopping you from going on ahead by yourself," Tamsin added.
The conspiratorial grins they exchanged weren't lost on Gerry. "Now you're ganging up on me!" he exclaimed, shaking a fist at them as they entered the school building. "Ooh, wait 'til Emma gets here…!"
Ronnie chuckled. "Catch you later, Bertier." He and Tamsin left him to his griping and started toward their lockers.
They reached hers first. "How are you this morning?" she asked as she put together the things she would need for her morning classes.
He smiled. "I'm fine." He was still a little blue, but life went on and Tamsin's concern for his well-being cheered him up considerably. "Really," Ronnie added when she arched a skeptical eyebrow.
She finally smiled and shut her locker door. (It was working fine now.) "Good."
* * *
Michael returned Tamsin's notes that afternoon.
The first thing he did after sauntering into Uncle Jon's classroom was to hold out a sheaf of notebook paper. "Thanks," he said as he sat down next to her.
Tamsin took them back with a polite smile. The pages were precisely aligned and he had probably ironed them, too. Her notes had never returned to her in such good condition before. "You're welcome."
"And in return, you can borrow this." He reached into his knapsack and held something else out to her.
She blinked at the slightly worn copy of Gabriel Garcia Marquez's One Hundred Years of Solitude in his hand. She'd been dying to read it for ages, but neither she nor Uncle Jon could find a copy. "How did you know?"
Michael smiled crookedly as he reached over and dropped the book onto her desk. "I found this list of books you want to read somewhere in your notes and One Hundred Years of Solitude was encircled a couple of dozen times."
Tamsin laughed. The list had been in one of the margins. "Well, thanks," she said as she put the book in her bag. "I'll give this back to you as soon as possible."
"Take your time," he told her with a negligent wave of his hand. "I've read it lots of times."
Presently, Uncle Jon breezed into the room, loudly announcing a pop quiz, and it was time to buckle down to work. "Is the story any good?" Tamsin asked when class was over.
"I thought it was fascinating," Michael replied as he got up to leave, "but I'll leave you to make up your own mind."
She thanked him again and started getting her own things together when he left. The next time she looked up, Blue was charging toward her, followed by Ronnie and the rest of their friends. "What was that he gave you?" the big black boy demanded, arms akimbo.
"My notes," Tamsin told him. "Without my having to ask for them back, I might add."
The Titans made playful faces at the jibe, but Gerry ignored it. "Is that all?" he asked.
"No," she admitted. "He lent me a book."
"Just a book?" He leveled her with a narrow, steely-eyed stare that did not belong on a boy in a wheelchair. Gerry had probably developed that look on the football field. "What kind of book?"
What was with the Spanish Inquisition routine? "The Kama Sutra," she said with a straight face.
"WHAT?" Rev squawked. Even Ronnie looked stunned.
Tamsin laughed out loud at the comical expressions of confusion and shock arrayed before her. "I'm just kidding!" she said. "Seriously, he lent me One Hundred Years of Solitude. Here, see for yourself." She thrust the book at them. "Although I have no idea why I have to prove myself to you."
"Just lookin' out for our man Sunshine's interests, sister," Blue told her cheerfully.
"You guys are nuts," she said as they finally walked out of the classroom, but the amusement in her voice softened her words. Tamsin had spent enough time with the Titans to get used to the (sometimes ridiculous) ways they looked out for each other. "But it would have been cool if he really had lent me the Kama Sutra, wouldn't it?" she murmured to Ronnie.
He blushed and made a face at her. "Depends on whom you would have used it on."
* * *
"Is your boyfriend still moping about last weekend's game?" Tamsin asked Emma as they pored over the cosmetics counter at Landry's. They were taking advantage of the lull in their school workload to look at what was new in the stores downtown.
"No, not anymore." The blonde girl looked up from the pale blue eye shadow she was inspecting. "How about yours?"
She blushed. While she and Ronnie were seeing each other more or less exclusively, she was still having difficulty comprehending the idea that he was her boyfriend. Shouldn't there have been a formal question, or a symbol of their relationship, or something? Maybe the conversation from the Monday after Homecoming had settled the question. Maybe her bracelet did the job of symbolizing their relationship — all of their friends knew that it was a gift from him, anyway.
Maybe the formalities didn't matter and the important thing was that Ronnie was a guy she liked being with. "No," Tamsin finally answered.
Emma smiled and went back to browsing. The two girls didn't find anything really interesting at the cosmetics counter, but the sale racks at the teen clothing department more than made up for it. Their arms were overflowing with clothes to try on when Petey and Ronnie found them. "Y'all lost?" the blonde girl teased.
"Heck, no!" Petey replied, looking as nonchalant as a boy could look while standing amid racks crammed with girly clothing. "We came here on purpose. Sunshine was lookin' for Tamsin and he figured he'd find her here. What d'ya know?" the black boy grinned. "He was right! You really in touch with your feminine side, ain't you, Sunshine?"
Ronnie rolled his eyes. "Give it a rest, bro." The fruitcake jokes were really getting old.
Tamsin came to his rescue with a scornful snort. "In touch with his feminine side?" she scoffed. "I can't even train him to hold my purse while I'm shopping!"
Emma laughed. "Gerry hides mine behind his back. So, what brings y'all here?"
"I, uh, have to tell Tamsin something," Ronnie told her. "It's kind of important."
"Ooh!" Petey exclaimed in a fruity voice, pretending to swoon with excitement. "Whatever could it be?"
Ronnie chuckled as Tamsin shot him an I-can't-believe-he's-your-friend look and then dumped her armload of clothes into the black boy's arms. "Could you hold these, please?" she asked sweetly. "And while you're at it, put the dress with the green-and-blue flowers back? I've changed my mind about it — the mid-calf length does nothing for me."
Emma laughed at the wild look that had entered Petey's eyes. "Don't worry, Petey," the blonde girl consoled him, picking the offending dress out of the pile. "We can pretend that they're mine."
"What's this 'kind of important' thing you want to tell me?" Tamsin asked Ronnie after their friends were out of earshot.
He bit his lip, wondering how to tell her so she wouldn't snap his head off. He'd never had to do this to her before, and wasn't sure how she would react. "Well, it isn't a matter of life and death," he began, flicking a stray lock of hair out of his eyes.
"That's good to know."
"It's just that something came up and…believe me, it was a tough decision…"
"And it is…?" She was starting to sound impatient, so Ronnie figured he might as well just tell it straight and get it over with.
"I have to cancel our date tomorrow night." The words came out in a rush. "The recruiter from South Carolina called this afternoon to reschedule the dinner we were supposed to have with him tonight," he explained, "and tomorrow is his only other day free."
"Oh." Tamsin nodded. "I see." She didn't sound mad, and she even smiled, but he decided to explain some more just to make sure.
"I don't want you to think that you're not important to me," Ronnie went on, toying nervously with the charm on her bracelet, "but they sound really interested and I—"
"Ronnie." Her smile widened. In fact, she looked like she was trying not to laugh at him. Now, he was sure she wasn't mad. "It's OK."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure. This is college we're talking about, after all."
He squeezed her hand, relieved. "Thanks. I'll make it up to you, I promise."
"You don't have to."
"Well, I want to," he protested mildly. Ronnie smiled as an idea dawned. "Tell you what — I heard Rev say that Cat's brother will be at Maxie's next weekend. Why don't we go watch his band play?"
Tamsin brightened. She had never been to Maxie's before and was really curious to meet Cat's grandmother, who owned the place. She was probably a very unique woman.
He waggled his eyebrows and nudged her playfully. "Come on…you know you want to…"
She laughed and tried to look coy. "Oh, all right, if you're sure it won't be too much trouble…"
"It won't," he assured her.
"I'll look forward to it, then." She grinned impishly. "But what if another recruiter calls to reschedule?"
Ronnie laughed. "I'll bring him along. Maybe he'll appreciate a good jazz band."
* * *
The next evening, in the great tradition of all girls who were staying home on a Friday night, Tamsin stayed home and washed her hair. She did it every day, of course, but washing one's hair was a time-honored alternative to going out with a boy.
She also called her mother, who was surprised to hear from her. "Isn't this date night?" she asked after Tamsin had said hello.
"Yes, but Ronnie had to cancel. He's meeting with recruiters from the University of South Carolina tonight."
"Did he cancel at the last minute?" her mother asked sharply.
"No, he told me yesterday, right after he found out." She grinned at the memory of the painfully sincere look on his face when he tried to assure her that she was still important to him. "He even groveled."
"Good."
"I'm actually kind of glad to be staying home for a change," Tamsin admitted as she stretched her pajama-clad legs out before her and wiggled her worn-slippered toes. "Dressing up and going out can be tiring, and I've got some things I have to do anyway. I've got some application essays to finish, and there's this evil English paper that I have to start work on…" At the mention of the paper, Uncle Jon looked up from where he was preparing that night's dinner and shot her an unrepentant grin.
"To what other colleges are you applying?"
"I'm finishing the ones for Barnard and Sarah Lawrence so I can mail them next week; and then I need to do one more for Fordham."
"Will they get read?" her mother teased.
Tamsin narrowed her eyes at the receiver in her hand. "Of course they will, Mother. I'm doing pretty well in school — Uncle Jon will vouch for that. Our only worry now is which school will save us the most money."
A melodramatic sigh came over the wire. "Sweetie, we've been through this—"
"I know, I know, money is no object. I just don't want us worrying about tuition on top of our other bills." She swung her foot back and forth and watched her uncle slice red cabbage into lacy circles. "And speaking of bills, Mom — have you paid them?"
As she expected, the question snapped her mother out of the serious discussion about money. "No," was the crisp reply. "I am sitting in total darkness with no food, no heat and no water, communicating with you through mental telepathy, and something is crawling up my leg."
Tamsin laughed. "Sorry, I just had to make sure."
"Well, I can take care of myself. I did take care of you first before you started taking care of me!"
Tamsin and her mother exchanged a few more jokes and some local gossip before Uncle Jon took his turn with the phone and Tamsin took over dinner.
She smiled as she swept the cabbage off the cutting board and into a bowl. It had been a good conversation: her mother knew that she was doing well in school, and she knew her mother was all right in New York.
And since her mother was getting along fine by herself, Tamsin thought as she julienned a carrot and added the thin orange sticks to the cabbage, maybe Tamsin could look into going out of state, like maybe to Harvard or Yale, for college. It wouldn't hurt to apply and see if they could grant her a scholarship.
She gave a start as she tossed the cabbage and carrots with bean sprouts. During the course of her reflections on going away to college, Tamsin had the most unsettling realization that she and Uncle Jon would be leaving Alexandria soon.
* * *
The latest edition of Silhouette, the TC Williams High School literary magazine, was released that Monday. Tamsin, like everyone on the staff, was excited to get a look at the fruit of their labor, but she had to wait until the last period to get her own copy because it was being distributed through the English classes.
A thrill of anticipation shot through her when Uncle Jon entered the classroom carrying copies of Silhouette. "Good morning, everyone! I've got something special for you today!" He grinned at the class and held up the stack of magazines. "The latest issue of Silhouette, which showcases your fellow students' creative writing skills, has been released. I do hope you'll take the time to read it.
"I strongly recommend," Uncle Jon said as he gave each person in the front row enough copies for the people sitting behind them, "that you check out the poem entitled 'Dear John' on page 29. It's written by our very own Tamsin Lee."
Tamsin blushed and acknowledged the polite applause from the class (and the exuberant yells from the Titans), then opened her own copy to page 29. As author of the poem, she knew it inside-out beginning from the day she began it on the bleachers of the TC Williams football stadium while waiting for the Titans to finish practice. She just had to see it (and her name!) in print.
It was beautiful.
She floated on a saw-my-work-in-print cloud all through English and even afterward as some of her classmates congratulated and complimented her on her work. Michael told her that her writing was very evocative.
And the Titans asked for her autograph. "So when you're famous and stuck-up," Blue explained, "I can auction this off and make some money off you."
"Why'd you call it 'Dear John'?" Gerry asked as Tamsin signed his copy of Silhouette. He grinned at Ronnie, who was standing behind him. "'Dear Ron' would have been a better title!"
* * *
"Yes, it would have been," Tamsin had admitted.
Ronnie grinned as he remembered the smile and the blush that had accompanied her answer. He rolled over on his bed, knocking a couple of books onto the floor, and read her poem for the millionth time.
Although the phrase "Dear John" referred to the kind of letter a girl wrote when she wanted to break up with her boyfriend, the poem wasn't about breaking up at all. Instead, it was about how distracting a guy could be for a girl, and Tamsin made that sound like it was the most wonderful thing in the world.
And she practically said that she had written the poem for him. The idea made Ronnie feel funny inside.
He chuckled. Guys were the ones who were supposed to be writing love poems, he thought as he stared at the Joe Namath poster on the wall across his bed, and the girls were supposed to receive them. How did he wind up in a situation where it was the other way around?
Simple. Tamsin wasn't like most girls.
Ronnie's friends hadn't let them hear the end of it after class that day. Alan said that Tamsin should have included a little dedication after the poem. Something like "To Sunshine with love."
But she didn't call Ronnie "Sunshine." Gerry said it should have been "To Ronnie with all my love."
By then, Tamsin's face was red. She had told them that it was too late for all their suggestions, hoping they would shut up. They, of course, didn't.
Ronnie burst out laughing when "You Are the Sunshine of My Life" came on his radio. Rev had ended the discussion by suggesting that Tamsin should have dedicated her poem "To Ronnie, the sunshine of my life." His friends had sung the Stevie Wonder song all the way out of the school building.
* * *
Ronnie was late.
Not disgracefully late, but late enough for Tamsin to notice. He was usually militantly punctual. Col. Bass must have drilled that into him.
She didn't really mind. They had agreed to meet at the coffeehouse around the corner from Maxie's, so she had a warm place to sit and a cup of tea to keep her company. They would be meeting up with Rev, Cat and some of their other friends at the club itself.
Maybe he was bringing a recruiter along, she thought wryly. Her bangle bracelets jingled as she took another sip of tea.
"Hey, Tamsin," a male voice said.
She looked up, expecting to see Ronnie, but it turned out to be Michael, standing by her table with a steaming cup in his hand. "Hi, Michael," she replied.
"Mind if I sit with you?"
Tamsin looked dubiously at the empty chair across her. "I'm kind of waiting for—"
"I'll leave when he shows up."
Well, the place was pretty full. "I guess that's all right, then," she said, shrugging.
"Thanks." Michael sat down and made himself comfortable.
Since he was sitting at the same table, she supposed she had to be sociable. "Hanging out?"
"No, not really," he said. He removed his glasses to wipe the lenses on a shirttail sticking out from under the hem of his ratty black sweater. "I'm waiting for my mom. She works at a health food store quite near here."
"She works at Homegrown & Organic?" It was the only health food store in Alexandria. "That's a great place! We get our brown rice from there."
"Yeah? Cool." Michael chuckled. "Keep doing that — my mom could use the business. How are you liking One Hundred Years of Solitude?"
"Oh, it's really interesting. Some parts are really bizarre," Tamsin admitted, "but that seems to be characteristic of South American literature."
"I think it has something to do with them fusing their native mythology with history." Michael took a sip of his coffee. He apparently liked it black. "Right now I'm reading this book called Letters to A Young Poet. Have you ever read it?"
"You bet." Uncle Jon had given her a copy when she was ten and just getting into writing. "It's great, isn't it?"
"Yeah. Rilke sure understands what all-consuming passion is about."
She nodded, checking the door for Ronnie. He still hadn't arrived. "Did you know that the guy he was writing to later killed himself?"
His gray eyes widened. "No." He laughed. "So much for 'living the questions.'"
They were talking about the irony of the young poet's suicide when Ronnie arrived. His heart slammed in his chest at the sight of the two of them together and he walked quickly over. "Hey, Tamsin," he said.
Tamsin smiled up at him. "Hi, Ronnie."
Well, she looks happy to see me, at least. Her smile made Ronnie feel better, but only a bit — he hadn't missed the intense expression she had worn while deep in conversation with Michael.
Ronnie remained standing, as the chair that was supposed to be his was still occupied. He then nodded to Michael. "Michael."
"Good day, Sunshine," the other boy replied.
Tamsin laughed as if he had made the wittiest reply in the world. It made Ronnie's teeth hurt. "I'm sorry I'm late," he told her. "My dad got home a bit behind schedule."
"That's all right."
Ronnie extended the single red rosebud he was carrying toward Tamsin. "This is for you."
She accepted it shyly. "Thank you."
That was when Michael finally caught on. "Oh, you were waiting for him?" he asked Tamsin, then jumped out of Ronnie's chair. "Sorry, man, I didn't know."
What did I have to do, write "She's With ME!" on my forehead? "Don't worry about it," Ronnie replied coolly.
The dark-haired boy looked around. "Well, a couple of other tables have freed up," he observed. "Guess I'll go sit elsewhere now. Thanks for letting me sit with you for a while, Tamsin."
To Ronnie's relief, she didn't invite Michael to stay. "You're welcome," she said. "Thanks for keeping me company."
Michael smiled briefly, and then nodded to Ronnie. "See you guys in class."
"Yeah, see you," Ronnie replied as the other boy left and he finally sat down.
Tamsin sniffed the rose he had given her and smiled at him. "Aren't you going to order anything?"
"Nah. I wound up eating something while waiting for my dad." They were quiet for a while. "So…what was he doing here?" he finally asked.
"Who, Michael?" She glanced over the where Michael was now sitting and shrugged. "I was just sitting here, waiting for you, when he showed up and asked if he could sit with me. The place was pretty full a while ago."
Ronnie nodded. Of course there would be a perfectly innocent explanation for why Tamsin had been sharing a table with Michael "Don't Call Me Mike" Cardinal. "I see."
He was being uncharacteristically succinct, and his smile seemed strained. An unpleasant chill spread through Tamsin. What did he think Michael had been doing? What did Ronnie think she had been doing when he arrived? "We just talked," she added.
"I'm sure you did."
"He invited himself to sit down," she went on.
"Mm-hmm."
"You don't believe me?"
"Of course I believe you," Ronnie said, startled. He hadn't said he didn't.
To Tamsin's ears, he sounded like he didn't. "Are you sure?"
He met her eyes squarely, disturbed to see the hurt in them. "Yes, I'm absolutely sure." Ronnie laid a reassuring hand over hers. He wasn't quite sure if he could say anything without making a complete ass of himself; at any rate, he could let his actions do his talking for him. "Ready to go?"
There was only a small amount of tea left in her cup, and Tamsin was sure it was stone cold by now. At any rate, she didn't want it anymore. "Yes. Let's go."
He silently helped her out of her chair and into her coat. They said very little on the way to Maxie's, and just barely managed to smile upon meeting up with their friends inside the nightclub. If Rev, Cat and the others had noticed anything, they didn't remark upon it.
He and Tamsin sat close together, but not touching, at one of the tiny tables near the foot of the stage. They applauded when Maxie, a tall, slender woman who looked like a much older version of Cat, stepped up to introduce Cat's brother Elliot and his band, and again when the band came onstage to play.
Ronnie tried hard to concentrate on the music, which was pretty good, but his thoughts kept straying to what he had seen in the coffeehouse earlier. This was seeing her with Mr. Graham all over again, back when he didn't know that the teacher was her uncle. But she's already said that nothing happened, he told himself. So drop it!
Tamsin was having trouble concentrating, too. This was the most serious disagreement they had had to date. Part of her was ready to just drop the whole thing, as her conscience was 100% clear, but what had happened earlier with Michael was obviously still bothering Ronnie. She couldn't help wishing that there were some way she could convince him that nothing happened, but there was nothing left to explain.
The band swung into a rousing version of "Jazzman" and Ronnie felt a tremendous rush of relief when her hand slipped into his. He squeezed it and leaned toward her. "I'm sorry," he whispered. He wanted to say more, but he had already made a big enough ass of himself without even talking.
Tamsin squeezed his hand back and leaned her head on his shoulder. "It's OK," she said softly. "You're entitled to be a grouchy old bear every once in a while."
"Sure I do." He managed a hoarse chuckle. "You get to be one every month, after all."
She shook in silent laughter and Ronnie pressed a kiss to her temple, feeling better than he had since the evening started.