Chapter 133
Norman, Oklahoma, 1955
The scent of leather mingled with the freshly torn up dirt as Elliott took a three point stance and waited patiently for his opportunity to pounce. The quarterback called for the ball, and Elliott immediately jumped up, shifting his weight as he slid between two offensive lineman, snaking his way to the ball handler with the precision of a much smaller, nimbler youth. Within seconds of the football touching his hand, the quarterback was sprawled on his back, number ninety smirking down at him. “Well, well, well, if we don’t meet again,” he laughed as the quarterback struggled to get out from underneath him.
One of his fellow defensive linemen offered him a hand, and Elliott returned to his position. The score was Norman 45, Newcastle 14 with just a few minutes left in the fourth quarter, and with every snap of the ball, Elliott was driving the other team closer and closer to the wrong end zone. He’d taken it easy on them earlier in the night, but now that he’d found his momentum, he wasn’t planning on letting up any time soon.
“Nice move, Sanderson,” his best friend, Reggie Pope, who played corner, said as they broke from the huddle. Reggie was one of the few black kids on their team, or in their town, for that matter, but that didn’t make any difference to anyone once Elliott had befriended him three years ago when he’d first moved here. Elliott had looked the other kids in the eyes and told them Reggie was cool, and they’d all believed it. Of course, he’d told them the same thing about himself.
With the next snap, Elliott took his time a bit, let the quarterback get set, and just as the football left his fingertips, he launched into the other boy, causing the ball to shoot up into the air. Reggie swooped in and snagged it before it hit the ground, running it back for another Tiger touchdown. When the clock ran out, Norman had won again--by a substantial margin.
“Nice job! Way to go!” Coach Little pounded each player on the back or smacked their backside as they made their way in from the field. The old man wasn’t used to winning. This was the first time in years the Tigers had managed a winning record. The tide had shifted when Coach had moved the sophomore linebacker up to varsity this year. He grabbed Elliott’s shoulder as he rushed by and pulled him over. “Way to hustle out there, Sanderson. I’m so impressed with you, young man!”
“Thank you, Coach,” Elliott replied, balancing his helmet on his leg as sweat dripped out of his hair down his face.
“You know, I think we’ve got a chance at a state championship this year, with you leading the defense.”
Elliott’s eyes widened, the idea very appealing. “It was a team effort,” he said humbly.
“Well, whatever you want to call it, I’m proud of you, son.”
Coach couldn’t have picked a more stirring word. “Thank you,” Elliott managed, trying not to think about the name Coach had used to describe him. He was no man’s son—even though Frank had done as much as possible to correct that in the last few years. At the end of the day, he was just the foster child of two people who’d been willing to take him in when his own mother wanted nothing to do with him.
He didn’t let that thought linger as Reggie pushed down on his shoulder, rocketing himself up into the air, a big smile on his face. But Elliott’s eyes were locked onto someone else. Over by the bleachers, she was waiting for him. He could see the edge of her cheerleading skirt sticking out from around the back of the aluminum structure, and when he rounded the corner, Nancy Farr took hold of his arm. “You played really well tonight, Elliott,” she said in that smoky voice of hers.
He looked down into batting blue eyes. “Thanks, doll. Hey, I’ll see you out at Lawson’s Point in a few, right?”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” A smile started at the corner of her mouth and pulled its way across from one appled cheek to the other.
Elliott grinned back, but Reggie pulling on his arm got his feet moving again, and he continued on his way to the locker room.
A few steps away, Reggie whispered, “You really don’t want to have Cliff angry at you again, do you?”
“I give a rat’s behind what Cliff Humphrey thinks of me?” Elliott shot back, a little loud for Reggie’s taste as they were walking with the rest of the team toward the school, and several of Cliff’s friends were among them.
“Listen, I know you don’t care, but he is the quarterback.”
“You’re right,” Elliott nodded. “I don’t care. Nancy is my girl now, and if he doesn’t like it, he can kiss my ass.”
Reggie looked around, but Elliott kept his eyes straight and level. It hadn’t taken much for him to persuade Nancy to dump the senior letterman when he’d approached her at the homecoming dance just a few weeks ago. At first, he thought she might say he was too young for her since she was a senior like Cliff, and he was only a sophomore, but he’d cut in, asking her to dance anyway, and a few minutes later, he was pretty sure Nancy was his forever if he wanted her, and since she was the prettiest girl in Norman, there was no question, she was the one he needed to have on his arm.
“You giving me a ride?” Reggie called as they entered the building.
“When you getting’ your truck fixed?” Elliott asked, the sound of their cleats clicking against the waxed floor.
“I don’t know. My dad ain’t got money for the part.”
“You know I’ll give you a ride, but you need to get a job, man.”
Reggie made a noise in the back of his throat. “I ain’t got time for that.”
“Cause I got more time than you do? I work on a farm and at the car dealership,” Elliott reminded him. “And I still find time to practice football—and kick quarterbacks’ asses.”
Even as he spoke, a few of his teammates stopped by to congratulate him on the game, though most of them were defensive players. The majority of the offense stayed away from him as they were loyal to Cliff.
Elliott took his uniform off, grabbed what he needed, and headed off to the showers where lots of his teammates were already lathered up. He found and empty shower-head and followed suit, careful to get all of the grime out of his hair. Nancy loved to run her fingers through his long curls, and he didn’t want her getting any sweat on her hands.
