Chapter 11

Just as fast as videos are uploaded to YouTube and other social media platforms, they are removed. Clarke and Tracy catch one before it's removed from Facebook. They're glad to have skipped the invite as they discuss it inside Butcher's Diner at lunch.

"Good lord! How stupid do you have to be to realize that something like that isn't the smartest idea?" Tracy says, putting her phone down.

Before Clarke can reply, their server approaches with puffy eyes, "I'm not sure, but I bet they're feeling the effects of being taken down with pepper spray."

Clearing her throat, the server shares her snotty opinion, unaware of Tracy's assault, "That no party at the lake rule is stupid. We were making a point that it's safe! I mean, one girl goes viral, and one gets raped by some douchebag, and it ruins everything for all of us."

Immediately leaving the seat, Tracy becomes irate, "Look, Daisy, I never asked to be sexually assaulted or that Johnathon got killed when he blabbed about it all over Facebook Live. I'm happy the parties are done with at the lake. The video Johnathon uploaded got me in trouble, then he used it to drag me out to attack and violate me wasn't on my wish list of life events."

Afraid that Tracy will swing on the curvy dark redhead covered with facial freckles that hide her slightly swollen green eyes, Daisy takes a step back, "My bad!"

Clarke drops a five-dollar bill on the table, "Let's get out of here and go somewhere else. How's driving to Waco sound?"

"Fucking fine by me! Get bent, you home-wrecking hussy! It's no wonder why this shit of shit diner stays empty nowadays!" Tracy shouts, referring to the rumor about Daisy secretly sleeping with the restaurant owner.

Once they're out the door, Daisy places a hand on her small, perky B-cup breasts. The owner walks out from the back, placing his hands on her shoulders, whispering, "Are you okay, love bear?"

Lifting her hand from her side, Daisy rests it over her lover.

"Yes, Thomas. I had no idea, though, that it was Tracy that caused everything to happen," she stops, thinking about what Tracy said, "How did she know about us seeing each other?"

"You know this town. Nothing stays quiet for long, but it's still only a rumor. It's no one's business that we're in love until you graduate."

Together in the Solstice, Tracy drops the black cloth convertible top. Under sunny skies, she starts her car, but something in her mind continues to scream at her.

"Clarke," she begins, huffing, "I'm done hiding us. If we want to be together, then it's time to stop the charade."

"I'm fine with that. Our families know we're dating, so why hide it from everyone else?" Clarke suggests.

In a quick motion, Tracy picks up her purse, taking out her red iPhone. Clarke tries to peek over to see what she's doing, but his phone buzzes before he looks at the screen. Tracy closes the screen, dropping the phone in her lap, "There!"

Puzzled at what she's done, Clarke unlocks his phone to see two Facebook notifications. Tapping on the top option, he sees the first thing she did, changing her relationship status from single to in a relationship tagging Clarke.

"I guess it's public now," he states as he clicks on the other notification, "Real quickly y'all. I just want to say I'm with the GREATEST GUY in the world. That's Clarke Harbor, and if anyone thinks they can steal him from me, then you're 'bout to get a real ass whoppin' bitches!" Clarke reads aloud.

"That's for damn sure. Now, this small world knows we belong to each other. So, if you don't love me, then too bad now, sweetness, because any other female even looks at you funny Ima beat that ass."

Not giving her any reason to blow up at him, Clarke drops his hands in the air, "I do love you, and if I didn't want to be here, I wouldn't be. You're just as stuck with me as I am with you. Like I told you, I've had the world's largest crush on you for a while. I have you, and I ain't about to let this feeling go."

Flattered by his statement, Tracy leans over for a kiss. When it ends, she starts her car and drives to central Waco. The afternoon is spent shopping at a couple of strip malls. Clarke heads to a second-hand clothing store and finds a selection of discounted, discontinued basketball shorts that he buys. Tracy drags him to Midwestern Misses, where she models several options of mini skirts, spaghetti strap shirts, and sundresses that tease Clarke's sexual urges.

"Babe, seriously, you are so beautiful, and it's killing me watching you taunt me like this," Clarke expresses, biting his lower lip when Tracy turns her back to him, bending over to expose her white thong.

Turning around, she winks, "Maybe that's what I want to do. Seeing you get turned on and want me when you can't have me makes it even better. We may get to that point one day, but for now, I'm going to push your buttons until I'm ready."

Blowing a kiss at Clarke, Tracy struts into the changing room, latching the lock, then tosses her clothes over the top, "I'm almost naked in here!"

She barely hears Clarke moan, smiling as she slips back into her clothes. Although she knows what happened with Johnathon was a mistake, she begins to feel her body pulse with the temptation to pull Clarke into the cramped changing room to have him take her right there.

"Are we ready for that?" She asks herself, "Am I really ready for that?" Tracy stands there in her bra and thong, thinking it over, "I want him, and I do know I love Clarke but is it still too soon?"

In the plastic chair, Clarke adjusts his hardening dick, trying to hide it from Tracy when she walks out. Enough time passes that it begins to soften, but in hopes that Tracy wouldn't notice the semi-erection, Clarke gets to his feet immediately when the changing room door opens.

Her eyes turn to Clarke and notice the bulge in his shorts. Tracy says nothing, but her body reacts with a massive cold chill down her spine, and her private area gets wet, "I'm done. I think my dad will kill me, but I'm getting all of these."

Being a gentleman, Clarke takes the clothes out of Tracy's hands. They stroll through the store one more time as they stroll to the front, where a young college-age blond-haired lady rings everything up.

"I love your taste," the cashier says with a thick southern between each item she scans.

"Thank you. I figured if we came all this way, then I might as well find some super cute clothes."

Clarke stands there, listening to the ladies squeal for a moment.

"Where y'all from?" The cashier asks.

"We're from Brighton," Clarke answers.

An odd look comes across the cashier's face, "I'm sorry, I'm not from Texas. I'm a student at Baylor. I came here from Georgia."

Tracy's amazed that someone would willingly come to college outside of Texas, "What brings you to Texas? I know Georgia has like a ton of great schools."

"I hate Georgia! Valdosta is a boring place. Plus, Baylor offered me a scholastic scholarship to cover my tuition and dorm. It's still expensive, which is why I work here. I'm Haley, by the way."

Being polite, Tracy extends her hand, exchanging a handshake, "Welcome to Texas. You can have it," She jokes.

All three share a laugh.

"Hey, it's better and less humid than Georgia. I'll take the offer, but where is Brighton?"

Clarke answers, "Nice to meet you, Haley. It's a smaller community caught between Dallas-Fort Worth and here. We're tiny piss ants compared to the metro areas."

"Oh, okay. That's pretty cool, and well, welcome back to Waco. Thanks for shopping with us. Have a great rest of y'alls day."

Tracy is handed her bag, that's stuffed to the top. She takes Clarke's hand and exits the store. Under the bright sunny sky, they place the bag in the car trunk before walking to Max and Erma's restaurant. Quickly seated in a booth not far from the bar, Clarke's attention is pulled to a nearby TV, showing highlights of various college football games.

"Clarke," Tracy says, "Hello. Earth to my sexy man and boy toy!" She sits there, beginning to feel annoyed as her cheeks turn red, "Well, I guess you're too busy to talk about getting a room for an hour to have sex."

"Huh? What?" Clarke mentions when his attention is pulled at the sound of having sex, "I'm down for that!"

Tracy huffs, irritated that all it takes is the word 'sex' to get Clarke's undivided attention, "You're something else. Do you know that?"

Only showing a smile, Clarke sits there with his hands interlocked on the table. Tracy swiftly transitions from annoyed to flirty, "I can't stay mad at you with that smile."

"It just makes me oh, so pretty!" Clarke teases, altering his voice to a high pitch.

Unlocking his fingers, Clarke lays them palm up. Tracy takes the hint, resting hers over his as they stare into each other's eyes until their server arrives. Tracy looks away long enough to order the Santa Fe Salad; it's a Fiesta flame-grilled chicken breast, shredded Monterey Jack & cheddar cheeses, tomatoes & tortilla strips over crisp greens that's served with ranch dressing and an iced tea. Clarke orders the Big Ol' Buffalo Chicken sandwich. A hand-breaded crispy chicken sandwich tossed in Erma's Buffalo-style hot sauce with lettuce and a side of seasoned French fries with a Cherry Coca-Cola.

"Oh lord, you like your spicy foods, don't ya?" Tracy asks.

Clarke rubs his stomach with both hands, saying, "It's a guy thing. We don't have options like this back in Brighton. So, when I get the chance to explore options I like or want to try, I do."

The sun streams through the window, giving a romantic ambiance.

"I can understand what you mean. That's why I can't wait for us to ditch home," A glaze falls over Tracy's eyes, "It feels so far away, but getting to New York is a dream come true."

A warm sensation surrounds them. Clarke can't help but smile, and Tracy smiles while her hands fold together over her heart. The moment ends when their food arrives.

"Be careful; everything is piping hot. If there's anything you two doves need, let me know," The puggy male server with a thick mustache says, setting the plates on the table.

Taking their time to eat, Clarke and Tracy sit there for over an hour without saying anything. The energy cascading from their auras says more than words. As they smile at each other, the unspoken force of their emotions speaks in the light of their eyes.

"Are you ready to scram?" Tracy asks.

"Yeah, we're paid up, so we're good to go!"

Clarke's the first one out of the booth, offering a hand to assist Tracy to her feet. With his arm around her, several older patrons are in awe of the energy floating around the young couple. Under the awning, Tracy feels her phone constantly vibrating, "Jesus!" She declares. Looking at all the notifications from Facebook, she's blown away at the comments and reactions from the newly announced relationship status.

"So, is it good?"

Unable to say anything, Tracy stands there with tears in her eyes, staring at the brightly lit phone, "Johnathon's mother called me a murderer."

Without thinking before speaking, Clarke's expression changes from happy to furious in a single heartbeat, "To hell with that bitch!"

Clutching his fists tightly, Clarke shuts his eyes, breathing to calm down, "Give me the phone. I'll respond."

Unsure of what to do, Tracy locks the screen. A new dark aura blinds into the bright colors, eliminating the positive momentum. Crushed and distraught, Tracy saunters by Clarke to make her way to the car.

"I wanna go home," Tracy mutters, sobbing.

"Yeah. Let's go home. If ya want, I'll drive."

Trampled, Tracy takes the keys from her Pink brand purse. On the way back to Brighton, the skies are clear and sunny. Inside the car, an imaginary dark cloud swirls inside Tracy's soul. Clarke has one hand on the steering wheel with the other on the shifter, waiting and hoping for Tracy to put her hand on his. Before Clarke calls attention that he wants her hand, Tracy gasps.

"Oh my God!" She cries, "The comment is gone! Like my phone refreshed my stuff, and when I went to see if anyone had said anything else, it was gone."

Dumbfounded, Clarke makes sure it's clear before switching lanes about a mile from the exit.

"I'll be damned. I was going to go off once I dropped you off. What Mrs. Beauford said was complete bullshit."

Smiling, Tracy locks the phone, dropping it in her lap. She reaches over to the shifter, resting her hand over Clarke's, "You wouldn't have needed to because I was going to drive over to her house. If she didn't remove it with me in her face, I would've punched that heartless bitch in the face."

It isn't long until the young couple pulls into the driveway. While Clarke and Tracy stare at the forming universes of passion, the attraction to kiss draws them nearer and nearer. Tracy's heart flutters the moment their eyes close and lips touch. Tracy's hand rests softly on Clarke's cheek while his hand reaches out to pull her close.

The embrace only lasts a minute. Gracie Lynn taps on the window, startling the couple, "It's time to head home, Mr. Harbor," she says through the glass.

"Yes, ma'am."

Gracie Lynn takes a step back, allowing room for the driver's door to open. Clarke dips his head before walking away. Tracy stands there with her hands on the convertible top, "Thanks, mom!"

With her arms across and puckering her big pouty lips, Gracie Lynn waits until Clarke is gone before she reveals, "You better be nicer to me. It was my doing that the nasty comment was removed, and Martha's account was deactivated. I'll not have anyone talk to you that way. Martha was told by your father that if she ever talked or looked at you in a bad way again, he would make sure she met her son in Hell. Get inside and clean that bedroom."

"Thanks, mom. I never meant for Johnathon to get hurt, let alone killed. He violated me, but to her, it was like he couldn't do any wrong."

Gracie Lynn can muster only a simple phrase: "It's blind leading the blind. Admitting that her life and only son weren't perfect as she pretends, she would be forced to realize the ugly truth. I hate it came at your expense, but the Beauford's needed a reality check. Come one, it's hot out here; let's go inside."

What remains of the weekend flies by in a flash. Sunday for Clarke is spent at home getting to know Steve better. Tracy spends her Sunday after church in her bedroom, trying to ignore that her parents are back on opposite ends of speaking peacefully to each other.

On Monday, after the first chimes end, the vice principal begins the morning announcements.

"Good morning, students, faculty, and staff. I'm Vice Principal Austin Reid We're in the final week of the regular season, and our Brighton Grizzlies battle against The North Waco Pirates. If we win, we enter the playoffs as the number two seed. Hillsboro lost Friday night, and Brighton High School was defeated by Midland Prep, but we're excited to still be in the run as the only other team from the conference to make the postseason. On behalf of the school, let's give our team a warm hand and wish them luck! In other news, this serves as a reminder there are no parties allowed at Cowboy Lake. The altercation with law enforcement could have been worse."

The announcements continue for five minutes. A layout of the events leading to the final game is repeated every morning, and as the last game approaches each hour, the coaching staff doesn't push the first-string players. The second-string team sees more reps and time to be prepared to play should a blowout occur.

It's almost noon Friday before the team is pulled from their classes to the parking lot. They help load equipment under the silver and blue charter bus compartments. Once it's finished and everyone is seated on the bus, Coach Sparks goes over roll call.

"Alight. We're all here. Are y'all ready to win tonight?"

Hector and Clarke are the first to their feet.

"BRING IT!" Clarke screams.

"WE'RE GONNA KILL THEM!" Hector yells in Spanish.

Dallas cries out with his head thrown back and arms spread open, "BEAR WARRIORS UNITE! TONIGHT WE FEAST IN VICTORY!"

Jamal stands in the aisle, "IT'S GON' BE LIKE A DRIVE-BY IN GTA!"

Assistant Head Coach Childers claps but turns to Coach Sparks, "Oh, I feel sorry whoever stands in front of them tonight. I see a fire I ain't seen in a while."

Waving his arms like a madman, Coach Sparks gets in the aisle, "Okay, settle down! That's the spirit I wanna see out there tonight! While on the field, you run faster, hit harder, and push through any blockers! The conference committee may have us at number two, BUT LET'S SHOW THEM WHY WE'RE NUMBER ONE!"

Once the screeching lowers, the team remains antsy. The chatter continues until arriving at North Waco High School around two o'clock. The student council greets the team and guides them to the visitor's center. Waiting for the Brighton players inside the flat-painted purple and yellow area with three long lunch tables are several types of pizzas, sodas, bottled water, and Gatorade on a set of long five-foot tables with purple and gold tablecloths.

"On behalf of students and staff of North Waco High School, welcome and please enjoy. I'm Yvonne Menard, Student Council President. Anything you need, I won't be far away. Please, excuse me, and best of luck tonight against the Pirates."

In the time provided, most of the team use their laptops to stay caught up on classwork. Clarke receives an occasional text from Tracy. He's disappointed she won't be at the game since her car needs an oil change and a tune-up.

"Hey, big man, you look like someone shot ya in the foot," Dallas mentions, taking a seat and smacking Clarke on the thigh.

"Just a funky mood; Tracy ain't gonna make it to the game," Clarke leans back, resting his elbows against the edge of the table, "Oh well, let's get ready to take some names and kick some ass."

Time ticks away until Yvonne returns to the visitor's center. She pushes the heavy white metal door open. She peeks inside to see the team has gathered all their things and thrown all the trash away. Behind her thin black and red pinstriped wire frame glasses, her bright red hair pigtails drape to her shoulders. The baggy overalls hide a near-perfect hourglass figure. Yvonne stands in awe at the sight of Jamal. Watching him interact and joke around with his teammates in his jersey and baggy khakis, "Wow! What a man!"

She snaps out of the trance when the team shares a laugh. Yvonne walks the rest of the way inside, clapping to get everyone's attention, "Excuse me, fellas! It's time I take you to the locker room. Game time isn't far away, and again, best of luck tonight," She announces, then turns to Jamal and winks.

The team gets in a single file line and follows to the locker room. Once inside the cool area, the bright white walls with a big WELCOME painted in purple on the east side of the room, feel the team with ease. They begin to stretch and change into all-white uniforms with green numbers. Clarke takes a chance to sneak a glimpse at the filling bleachers. When he does, a whiff of moisture in the air accompanies the dust kicking up everywhere.

"Looks like we may get a little wet," Clarke says after returning to the main locker room area.

Coach Sparks motions Clarke to join his teammates in the middle of the locker room. He removes the faded, ripped baseball cap he's had since his first season as head coach.

"Gentlemen, this season has been such a blessing to see develop. The growth and maturity, both on and off the field, have been one of the greatest pleasures in all of my years coaching football. For you seniors, this is your final regular-season game. The playoffs are never a guarantee, so enjoy the final moments of the field. Some of y'all are going to be heading to college next fall. Let me be the first to say, be well, and do good in the world, and I'm grateful to share the time we've had together. Now, bring it in, Grizzlies on three."

The coaching staff and players gather close. Everyone places a hand as close as possible to Coach Sparks's shoulders, "One, two, three!"

"GRIZZLIES!" They cry out.

Coach Sparks points to the door and places the cap back on his wrinkled head. He's the last person out the door, met by an array of boos and heckling from the stands. The heat from the blacktop from the track surrounding the field leaves the team feeling uneasy at first. Off in the distance, the clouds float slowly over the stadium. The teams meet at midfield, where Brighton wins the toss, electing to go on defense before the first drops of rain cascade from the heavens.

North Waco faces a third down and long situation. Lined up in a shotgun formation, Dallas watches the quarterback after the snap. Quickly looking over the field, the wide receiver closest to him breaks free. The Pirates quarterback sees the receiver and plants his feet launching the football. Dallas runs to the receiver; leaping into the air with enough height, he snags the ball.

"NO!" Dallas hears the Caucasian wife receiver scream.

Running down the sideline, Dallas has three blockers clearing the field for the easy touchdown.

"YEAH! THIS IS OUR TIME!" Dallas screams, spiking the ball, extending his arms, and tensing his muscles.

After the extra point and kickoff, the North Waco offense doesn't try to throw the ball the remainder of the first quarter. Every time Clarke takes the field, he helps push defenders back, allowing the run game to be utilized. When the first quarter ends, Brighton is up fourteen to zero.

The rain is a light steady help on the natural turf for Brighton. Jamal and Clarke are used to moving the ball with each new set of first downs until the offense reaches the red zone. Randale has almost no struggle running the last twenty yards putting the team up by three scores halfway through the second quarter.

"Yes! Keep chewing up the clock. That's the way, boys!" Coach Sparks screams.

Over on the sideline, Clarke and Hector take a seat, discussing how to handle the second half of the game.

"I say we stretch the field a little bit," Clarke suggests, rocking back and forth.

Hector looks at the defense stomping their opponents into the mud, "Nah. Let's do it sooner than that. I will ignore the play call when we go back out there in a minute. I want you to dash deep. I'll lob the ball to you."

Clarke's caught off-guard, "Are you sure? I don't mind giving Randale the spotlight. I mean, I could use the stats. Remember that guy I talked to from Temple?"

"Yeah."

"According to him, I'm too small to be a tight end. Fuck him and shit; I'm lean and mean."

Hector laughs, "Yeah, fuck him! Do you, amigo, and no one else. C'mon, they're about to punt."

Bouncing on their toes along the sideline, the offense takes the field. The Pirates pinned the Brighton offense back to the six-yard line. Hector lines up under center with his hand shoved far underneath to secure the ball, "Elwood Blue! Elwood Blue!" He calls out, looking over the defensive lineup.

All four linebackers step up into the A-Gap lane. Randale raises when Hector shouts, "HIKE!" fooling the defense with the play-action pass.

Blowing straight from the stance, Clarke uses his taped-up elbows to shove the blocker on his ass. Coach Sparks doesn't know how to react; seeing the run option play, he called ignored. He watches Clarke push his way to get wide open, and Hector flings the ball with all his strength.

"Son of a bitch! What a toss," Coach Sparks mentions to himself, witnessing Clarke catch the ball and run in for the one-and-done play putting the game away early.

North Waco feels the weight of defeat sways above the entire team when it finally reaches halftime. The team heads to the locker room with their heads held low. The crowd is nearly silent, but the Brighton faithful continues to taunt from their side of the stadium, with the local TV stations speaking highly of the Grizzlies.

Inside the locker room, Coach Sparks makes some announcements, "Okay. We've broken their spirits. Now I want to give some second-string players some playing time," He looks to Clarke, Randale, Hector, Dallas, and Jamal, "Boys, you're my five-star players. You're sitting out the rest of the game. Unless the other team pulls out a miracle, we can go into cruise control. What a way to finish strong."

After the teams take the field, nothing changes. North Waco can barely make it to midfield. Their footing and confidence are gone. The field becomes a slushy, muddy mess as the rain falls. Every box is checked for Brighton going up forty-two to nothing before the game ends. The stadium is nearly empty when the final whistle blows, and each team shakes hands.

To avoid the rain, it doesn't take the Brighton players long to get showered, packed, and seated on the bus. The sky is darker than usual, thanks to cloud coverage hiding the stars and moon. The roads are covered with water. The Spanish bus driver tries to make good timing by maintaining the speed limit through the standing water.

Not far from the exit, Coach Sparks gets to his feet for a hasty speech after receiving a text message, "We did it! It's not the number one, but we are the number two seed with home-field advantage until the conference title game. Congratulations, boys, you've earned it!"

"You earned it too, coach!" Jamal yells with his hands cupped around his mouth.

Unexpectedly the bus driver yells, "HANG ON, EVERYONE!" before it hydroplanes to miss a family of deer on the road. The bus sways side to side; Coach Sparks tries to get back to his seat before it overcorrects and topples. The bus sketches and slides across the drenched pavement, flinging water everywhere and throwing several players around. Sparks fly, and glass shatters the further the charter bus skids along the road. The bus driver is limp and motionless after it comes to a stop.

Drivers behind the bus avoid any collisions. Anyone behind the wreck stops to help.

One long-haul truck driver rushes from his Volvo big rig with a window-breaking hammer in hand. The sounds of the team screaming mixed with moans of pain.

"HELP!" Dallas cries, holding his wrist.

The Native American truck driver smashes three sets of windows. He reaches for anyone who's well enough to take his hand. In front of the wreck, another man kicks the windshield until it begins to be pushed in. It's peeled back carefully, but the sight of the bus driver hanging in his seat sets the fear of death through the stranger's body.

Soaked from the rain, the stranger grabs the players by the shoulders, dragging them out in fear of the bus catching on fire. Before he gets halfway through the bus, sirens blare in the background. The sounds of people screaming, ordering each other what to do, brings Clarke out of the daze with a massive headache.

"Ugh. What, where, huh," Clarke mumbles, reaching out to grab anything he can.

"Hang on, young man! Help is on the way!" The stranger yells with Hector draped around his arms.

Feeling his arm fall back to the ground, Clarke lies there, feeling water collect around his body. His vision doesn't pick up a firefighter lifting him up and out onto the highway. The blur of emergency lights all around with too many voices surrounds the triage area of the wreck. Clarke is loaded into the first available ambulance. He's unconscious again as first responders work to help the injured players and staff. Confusion takes control as no one thinks to begin contacting anyone from Brighton for several hours.