Waiting on the Sidelines

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We ended up beating Yuma East 49-14, and Reed ended up making plenty more amazing plays. Twice, he ran the ball in for a touchdown himself. I heard one of the older men sitting near us comment on his size and how he was bigger than his brother was when he was a freshman. It was fascinating to hear what these complete strangers knew about him, almost as though they were scouting him well in advance for their future fantasy football drafts.

There was a lot of excitement leaving the game, as a line of cars poured from the parking lot, with honking and hollers from open windows and convertibles. Almost everyone seemed to be headed to the desert party, as we followed pickups and Jeeps to a mile post off the highway to turn down a dirt road. The air was thick with the dust being kicked up and the car shook and bounced along the uneven path. We finally turned off into a hidden camping-type area that was marked by a red sweatshirt tied to a cactus.

We parked next to a tree and got out to stretch our legs. We followed a few of Calley’s friends who had pulled in just ahead of us as they walked a few yards towards a wash. You could hear the thumping of music from someone’s car stereo and, as my eyes adjusted, I started to focus on the 50 or 60 people gathered around some old picnic benches and large rocks. A few of the pick up trucks were backed up to the seating area and were filled with coolers of various alcoholic beverages. The informal rule seemed to be that if you were drinking alcohol, you needed to bring something to share, as I flipped open one of the coolers and found a mishmash of wine coolers, vodka, tequila and assortments of other liquor clearly swiped from parents and, more likely, the town’s various gas stations and convenience stores.

I was starting to panic, as every cooler contained only alcohol, when I finally flipped open a small one with two or three water bottles inside. “Found it!” I said, grabbing one and holding it over my head triumphantly. I grabbed one for Sienna, shut the lid and slid the cooler to the back of the truck, hiding it in case we might want more later on in the evening. Not that water was of an interest to anyone else that was there.

The party was pretty dull for the first 30 minutes while people just formed small groups and stood around talking. Sienna and I sat on the table of one of the benches just behind Calley and Sarah, who were talking up two upper classmen that they had been flirting with during the game. Jokingly, Sienna leaned her plastic water bottle sideways for me to ‘clink’ and say cheers. We laughed at our very unhip, straight-edge humor, and I caught Tatum rolling her eyes as she walked up to Calley.

“The guys should be here any minute,” she said, smiling. “I am so going to kiss Reed when he gets here. I’m so proud of him.” She was saying this just loud enough for my benefit, I knew. Sienna leaned into me with a nonverbal ‘sorry.’ I shrugged it off, knowing full well what reality was, but my stomach was sinking and I was starting to dread the hours ahead of us tonight.

When the second round of vehicles started rounding the dirt road, my classmates all started cheering and holding their various bottles in the air in a salute. Cole jumped out of the back of a pickup truck and came running over to the table of cheerleaders, picking two of them up and squeezing their rears with his hands as they laughed. Pig, I thought. More and more of the guys started mingling with the rest of the partiers, climbing the trucks and grabbing beers, shaking them and spraying each other and standing on car rooftops to beat their chests. Taken out of context, the entire scene was absurd. In fact, even in context it was ridiculous, I thought.

Just then, I felt someone lean into my other side. I jumped a bit and turned to see Reed. “Hey!” I said, bumping him back. This seemed to be an acceptable form of touching, and the warmth of his arm against mine, even in just that split second, sent chills through me.

“So, what’d you think? How’d I do,” he said, unwrapping a burger from some fast food joint and shoveling half of it in his mouth. I must have been staring because he felt the need to explain. “Sorry, I would totally share, but I ate one on the way here and I’m STARVING!”

“It’s ok, I’m not hungry,” I laughed. “And you’re game was great! I mean, you did great. So did the rest of the guys, but you were really good tonight.” I was gushing and needed to stop.

“Thanks! I felt really comfortable out there. Maybe you’re my good luck charm!” he said, bumping into me again and polishing off his burger. I let out a tiny laugh in response, but tucked what he said into that place inside where I was holding the words of his letter and any other sign of flirtation from Reed Johnson.