The Sweetgum Ladies Knit for Love - By Beth Pattillo Page 0,32
couldn’t have stood to have Josh see how much worse the trailer looked than it had when he’d moved away.
Tonight, though, she could take him to the parsonage and not be ashamed or embarrassed. Her mother wouldn’t be lying on the couch in nothing but a T-shirt, smoking a cigarette and finishing off a six-pack Eugenie and Rev. Carson would be sitting in the wingback chairs in the living room, reading or listening to music. They’d probably offer Josh milk and cookies. It would all be normal and safe and…temporary. Security never lasted. Hannah knew that. But she had it for now, so she might as well take advantage of it.
“I didn’t know you liked football.”
Hannah twisted on the bleacher to find Camille St. Clair sliding into place next to her. She was too surprised to respond for a moment. Heat flooded her cheeks, and she felt that familiar sense of shame wash over her.
“I don’t really.” She couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“Well, that would explain why you’re here.” Camille’s gaze went to the sidelines. “Who is he?”
“Who is who?” Hannah snapped, but the flame in her cheeks didn’t subside. How did Camille know?
“Most girls only attend football games to watch the boys,” Camille said with a conspiratorial smile. “If not the ones on the field, then the ones in the stands. Which are you? Field or stands?”
Hannah thought about denying it, but what other reason could she invent to explain her presence at the game?
“Field,” she said miserably, propping her elbows on her knees and resting her chin in her hands. “Because I’m a complete idiot.”
Camille laughed. “No, honey, you’re not an idiot. Just a girl.”
At that moment, a roar went up from the crowd. Hannah jumped to her feet to see what was happening, as did Camille. All she could see was a Sweetgum player streaking up the field, everyone else in pursuit.
“What’s happening?” she asked Camille.
“Quarterback draw. Dante’s been setting them up for it for the last two series.”
“Huh?” Camille might as well have been speaking Latin for all Hannah understood.
“It was the new quarterback,” Camille said. “He just scored a touchdown.”
Hannah’s flush of shame was replaced by one of pride and pleasure. “Really?”
Camille shot her a look out of the corner of the eye. “Oh no, Hannah. Not the quarterback.”
Hannah’s silence betrayed her. Camille reached over and put an arm around her, squeezed her shoulders.
“You have my sympathy. Quarterbacks are the worst. After fullbacks, of course.” She smiled in a way that Hannah didn’t understand, but she thought it had something to do with what Mrs. Budge was always calling irony.
“Don’t tell anyone,” Hannah said in a low voice. Despite the wild cheering around them, Camille nodded to show she’d heard.
“It’ll be our secret.”
Camille smiled funny when she said it, which made Hannah wonder. She followed Camille’s gaze to the field, to the sight of Coach Brown stalking the sidelines, yelling at one of the players. And then Hannah cast a sidelong look at Camille and realized why she understood Hannah’s predicament so well.
After the game, Hannah loitered outside the entrance to the locker room, trying not to make eye contact with any of the cheerleaders or pompom girls waiting on their dates. Camille’s warning kept replaying in her mind, and she could feel the other girls’ gazes from time to time—some curious, some disdainful.
Finally, Josh emerged along with the other players. His wet hair clung to his head in tight, dark curls. When they were kids, he’d had a buzz cut, soft and bristly at the same time. He used to let her rub the top of his head for luck. That memory sent a strange sensation through her midsection. Or maybe it was the thought of touching Josh now, feeling those curls beneath her fingers, that made her feel like she’d just gotten off the Tilt-A-Whirl.
“Hey.” He walked up to her as if she didn’t embarrass him at all. Other kids called invitations to join them at a party in somebody’s cow pasture or at their parents’ lake house, but he just smiled and waved. “Maybe next time.” He turned back to Hannah. “You ready?”
She heard a few of the cheerleaders making comments, grumbling about Josh’s defection, but he seemed oblivious. “Sure,” she answered.
“You hungry yet?” He slung his sports bag over his shoulder. “We could stop at the Dairy Dip and get a burger. You still like Coke floats?”