Red Dirt Rocker (19 page)

Kyle stands slowly and deliberately. He displays, for all to see, the football still secure in his gloved hands. My best friend has just scored the winning touchdown for the Tigers. My team has just won the coveted State Championship title!

The Tiger fans go ballistic. I see purple dots and get a full-on head rush from screaming so loud. Megan's popcorn flies in every direction as she jumps up and down. Mom and Dad’s stadium seats fall backwards. Cowbells clank. The home side bleachers turn into celebration central. What a barn burner. The Tiger players and coaches are ecstatic.

Everyone is elated—everyone, that is, except for
D.J
. He looks completely dejected. Instead of celebrating with his team,
D.J
. takes off his black scuffed helmet and walks around in a daze, like it’s the end of the world and he is the sole survivor. He appears to be all alone in a crowd of hundreds. His teammates are less than happy with him. Even his partner in crime, Sam the Box, gives
D.J
. the cold shoulder pad.

They all know
good
and well that
D.J.’s
petty jealousy and big ego had almost cost them the most important game of the year—the most important game of their lifetime.

Kyle, on the other hand, is the man of the hour. He looks like a steel orb in a pinball machine as he bounces randomly above the shoulders of his fellow football players. On the ground, he’s mauled with bear hugs and helmet slaps. My gridiron buddies and I are on top of the world!

I scan the field, desperately looking for Sophie. The marching band is in the middle of the school fight song, and I can see her laughing from fifty yards away.

I can barely wait to hug Sophie, but there’s one thing I have to take care of first. Turning to Mama, who’s still in full celebration mode, I ask for the KISS backstage pass that I had given to her at the airport. Mama gladly hands it over and
we
high-five over the victory.

I race down the
bleachers,
and in one fell swoop, grab the top of the fence and sail over it in what I have to admit is a pretty cool, rock star-like move.

"
Fooorrest
!"
“I’m
sooo
glad you're back, doll!" Heather proclaims as
D.J
. lights upon us rapidly.

"Let’s go, Heather,"
D.J
. commands, his angry dragon
breath
still steaming out of his mouth.

"Go jump in the lake," Heather snaps. "You almost cost us the game. What a loser!" she calls out as she turns her back on him.

Heather reaches for my arm. “Forrest, you look amazing.
I
lovvvve
the leather!”
She coos, stroking my jacket. She’s ready to bask in the attention it will bring her as the pretty girl on the arm of the dude who rocked on the same stage as KISS.

"Hey, Heather.
This is for you," I declare, placing the KISS backstage pass around her neck. "You're
gonna
make a
great groupie
someday."

"Are you
kidding me
? FORREST, GET BACK HERE!" Heather wails like a spoiled child. She realizes the gift is meant to mock her. She is suddenly at a loss for sarcastic words.

"Hey, Heather, you have
D.J
.," I yell back over my shoulder as I start to jog to the middle of the field. "You two deserve each other!" I add, with a dismissive wave of my hand over my head.

I can’t wait to congratulate my best friend for the game of his life. I run up behind Kyle and give him a “bro-slap” on his butt pads. He turns to face me and bursts out with laughter. "Oh, dude, Forrest…I thought that was your MAMA!" He grabs me by the shoulders and shakes my spent body.

"
Maaan
…that was
sooo
wrong!"
I protest. My numb brain is too tired to think of a comeback line. I can tell by the ornery grin on Kyle’s face that he’s thrilled to get me back for the Mrs. Smith comment from weeks ago. Tonight, all victories are his.

"Congratulations, dude. What an epic game!" I exclaim as I exhale.

"Thanks, man. You know you're part of this, too. You helped get us here, Forrest." Kyle assures.

"Oh, I know, man. Right now you need to enjoy the glory. You deserve it, Kyle,” I return.

"I hear you and your band killed it in Sweden, dude,” Kyle yells over the school fight song.

"It was incredible! I'll tell
ya
all about it later. I
gotta
go say hi to someone."

I’m distracted by Sophie waving her drumsticks at me. I can’t wait to see her pretty face up close and personal.

"I'll see
ya
in the locker room, dude," I promise Kyle.

My heart swells with anticipation. I’m on a mission for a hug. I think to myself,
How
adorable Sophie looks in her band uniform,
as I grab her up into my arms—"my little band geek!" Her clumsy, furry, band hat tips forward like it did at the pep assembly, almost covering her angel eyes. I hug her and the hat tilts back, giving me the perfect opportunity to sneak a first kiss. We hover several feet off the ground for a few seconds, before drifting like a falling feather back to earth.

"What about Heather?" She asks, pushing me back. Sophie’s warm breath puffs delicately from her perfect mouth.

"Sophie…I’m so sorry. I should’ve broken up with Heather weeks ago. She’s spoiled rotten, and definitely more suited to a guy like
D.J
.," I apologize. “Besides, I bet he’ll give her more compliments for her daily vanity list than I ever did.”

We grin at each other and hug tightly one more time. I rub her shoulders to help her warm up. I feel my heart race through my button-down shirt as I draw the courage to ask her out. I still think it’s funny that I can play in front of thousands of people without stage fright, but hugging sweet Sophie makes me weak in the knees. I inhale, drawing the sharp night air deep into my lungs.

"Sophie, would
ya
like to come over to my house and chill for
awhile
tonight? No big deal. My parents always order pizza, and we can just hang out or something?” I ask sheepishly, with travel-weary eyes. It’s becoming hard for me to separate reality from a dream at this point. I’m so jet lagged and emotionally spent. I sure don’t want to wake up now if this is a dream.
Just stay asleep, Forrest
, I think in my delirious mind.

Sophie looks at me with her endearing sideways glance. “Only if we can watch movies and listen to music,” she returns slyly. She clasps her soft, cold hand in mine.

"That's definitely a deal," I smile, nodding my head in relief. I can feel her hand warm quickly as we touch. I smile wider knowing now this isn’t just a dream. I don’t even need Jake here to pinch me!

She wants to watch movies and listen to music!
I marvel happily.
Where has this amazing girl been all my life?

Sophie and I start for the field house when I hear a familiar riff. It’s my band’s song, “Rocket,” blaring from the P.A. system above the home bleachers. I look back to the stands and see my mom and dad smiling. Their index fingers point in the air above their heads signifying the number one. I look back to Sophie with a puzzled expression.

"Didn't your folks tell you, Forrest?" She asks, raising her voice above the song. “'Rocket' just made it to the top ten on the charts! Your sister Megan told me before the game. Your parents must’ve wanted to surprise you!”

I grab my curls, pushing them away from my face. I’m simply stunned by the news. Our song is a bullet! I turn once again to the football field. My teammates are rocking out to my tune. Even cowboy Coach Bryan is jamming to the music with an imaginary air guitar. Knowing him though, it’s probably an “air banjo.”

"Oh, man…this is
amazing
!” I exclaim.

Standing on the fifty-yard line, I look up at the clear night sky full of tiny, brilliant stars. I take a deep breath and say a silent prayer of thanks.
A wonderful family, great friends, a girl who understands me, and a hit song.
What more could a teenage boy ask for?

T
he stadium is empty, except for Janitor Hank, who is sweeping up the empty popcorn boxes and sticky Coke cups. Mini orange and black plastic pom-poms lie strewn like beached jellyfish in the deserted bleachers.

The Tigers have won the coveted State Championship game, with a too-close-for-comfort score of thirty-three to twenty-seven. The students and town folk have taken their celebration to the local Pizza Hut, Snack Shack, and in true small town fashion, the Quick Trip parking lot. The red necks are wild tonight.

The assistant coach stays behind to lock up the field house, and a handful of marching band students are turning in their uniforms. The stadium lights still burn bright over the empty bleachers, hypnotizing the army of moths that swarm around the glaring globes.

Late as usual, Jake, Randy and Cody walk together through the abandoned ticket booth. The three exhausted rockers make their way to the chain link fence that encircles the quiet, empty football field. Jake holds two bags of Taco Bell, Randy carries sodas and candy
bars,
and Cody sports a giant, orange, very conspicuous "number one" foam finger.

The three boys had gone to the practice barn to unload their gear, and lit into an impromptu jam session. They’re still jet-lagged from the time change between Sweden and the United States and, par for the course, the clueless rockers are late for the Ball once again.

“
Duuude
…where’s the game, man?” Jake asks, as he wipes his greasy long hair away from his face.

“I think I saw an episode of
The Twilight Zone
where
somethin
’ like this happened…only it was in an old, creepy house, and not at a football field,” Randy whispers eerily.

"Oh, man….I
think
we missed the
whole
thing
. I guess Forrest was right—we
did
finally miss the boat!” declares Cody, as if he’s in deep philosophical thought.

“But hey, at least we have snacks!" Randy calls out enthusiastically as he tears into a king size Butterfinger candy bar.

As they ponder their existence in the universe, the three confused rockers hear giggles echoing behind them. They turn toward the band room door to see a trio of gangly girls filing out toward them on the sidewalk. Instrument cases in hand, each of them sport a classic band-geek, puff-painted t-shirt.

The three young ladies walk toward the boys. Jake can see that the tallest of the three cuties has a KISS backstage pass hanging around her neck. It’s the sacrificial pass that Heather had thrown down onto the sidelines in a temper tantrum. It’s now a souvenir that will surely be treasured by the clarinet player forever.

Jake and Randy look at the bright-eyed girls and flash them the rock sign, while Cody holds up the big orange number one foam finger. The three marching band members return the rock sign, and grin widely at the boys, exposing a variety of braces and retainers.