Chapter 4

Alan came home and immediately went up stairs to listen to his music and do his loads of homework. He wasn't more than halfway up the stairs before his father said,

"Alan, come here son."

Alan turned around slowly and walked down the stairs into his father's study.

"Yeah Dad?" he said, looking at the round, gray-haired man sitting behind his desk.

"I watched you at practice today," He commented, his face showing no sign of emotion.

Alan winced. He knew the lecture was coming. This had been a bad practice, he felt bad enough already, and now, he was going to get yelled at.

"You weren't playing well."

"Aww Dad," Alan groaned, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Now I understand that you're hurt..." Fred Bosley returned, "And I'm sorry you are, but you aren't playing as well as you can and instead of you starting that dirty Negro is-"

"Dad! Petey is better than me!" Alan burst out, "And he is not a dirty..." Alan trailed off, not wanting to finish his sentence.

"It's all because of that Coach Boone," Fred Bosley continued, ignoring his son.

Alan slammed his hands down on his father's desk. Fred Bosley looked up in shock.

"Dad, I will admit that I used to think that Coach Boone wasn't good but he brought us together at camp. We're a team now and it doesn't matter what color our skin is. Why can't you see that?"

Fred Bosley's face grew red and the anger mounted up in him.

"I don't want you to play with them god damn colored kids! Much less be friends with them." He bellowed, yelling at his son.

"Dad, they're my friends," he said, "And I'm sorry, but I like hanging out with them."

He smiled somewhat apologetically and then left the room, shrugging as he did so.

He walked up to his room, dragging his books and football equipment. Once in his room, he flipped through his records until he found one of his Beatles ones. He put it on the phonograph and smiled as it started to play. He grinned and bobbed his head to the music, to the song he knew so well. He pulled out his math books and started to do his homework.

When he was on question number 36, about halfway done, the phone rang. His dad answered it.

"Alan, the phone is for you, son," Fred Bosley called after a moment.

"Okay," Alan walked into the hall and picked up the receiver.

"Hello?"

"Hey Alan," Gary said.

"Oh hey Gary. What's up?" he asked, wondering why Gary was calling him.

"Oh you know how you're going to get together with Melody to work on your hamstrings or something?

"Yeah," Alan nodded, marveling, "How did you know that?"

"Well, Coach called her and she called me," Gary explained, "Anyway, um how's after practice almost everyday?"

Alan shifted his weight from foot to foot, trying to think about what he did after practice. Only homework and dinner filled his mind but they could be done later.

"Umm, sounds good." He said, slowly.

"Cool. See you tomorrow," Gary said.

"Uh, yeah, bye."

Alan looked up as he put down the phone. He saw his reflection in the mirror and ran his hand through his hair. He was still a little confused, and he was surprised to notice that his eyes showed confusion. Did they give away all his feelings? He shrugged and went back to doing his homework.