Page 33 of The Cadence
It took me a good bit of time to complete all the preparations that the videos recommended and I had to speed a little on my way to the stadium in order to keep to the careful chronology that Will had prepared, typed up on another paper he’d printed for my folder. I did turn into the long road that led to Woodsmen Stadium one minute behind schedule but I figured that was close enough. So did he, because I got a text shortly after saying he was glad I was there and mentioning nothing about cutting it close. I followed the map and went directly to the special parking lot that was marked “VIP” and meant me—me, Calla Easterly—and I kept following his directions until I arrived at my orange plastic seat in the stands. I wasn’t that high above the field and I was right in the middle, so the view would be perfect.
This stadium didn’t have a roof but it was a beautiful summer day, not very humid like at home and with a nice breeze blowing through. Still, Will had recommended sunscreen and a hat on the paper he’d titled “Preparing for the Game,” and I had worn the first one but wasn’t going to put on the second. I had spent way too long on my hair to cover it up. I shaded my eyes with my hand instead and watched the activity on the turf below me. In the Game Day Schedule he’d written up, there were two columns helpfully labeled “Calla” and “Will,” with my side in red and his in blue. The blue column had begun with his departure for the Wequetong Inn the night before, where the whole team stayed together before their home games. I ran my finger down the column and checked the time on my phone, and saw that he would be coming out of the tunnel and onto the field…now!
And there he was, walking out with several other enormous guys wearing white jerseys with orange letters. I was wearing one, too, and mine also said “Bodine” on the back. He had brought it home a few nights before and it fit better than the one I’d worn on Fan Day, and I absolutely loved it. I loved it so much that I had been nervous about wearing it but was now thinking I might not ever take it off.
“Will! Will!” I yelled, but everyone else in the stadium had also started cheering when they saw the players, so it was impossible that he heard me. Still, he looked over in my direction and then walked to this section. I jumped up and ran down the steps so I could lean over the guard rail to see him up close.
“Hi! Hi!” I also yelled, and he smiled.
“You made it,” he noted, and I nodded. Then he squinted a little and scrutinized me carefully. “What did you do with your hair?”
“I worked on myself for a while. What do you think?”
“It’s good,” he said, but he sounded doubtful. “You look different.”
“Different, like it’s bad? No, never mind,” I answered myself. “You need to pay attention to your game and not my makeup.”
“I have a minute,” he answered, but then one of the other huge guys called to him. “Wait here,” he said, and I did, watching as they talked. After a moment, he jogged back to me. “We actually have a few things to work on, so I have to go.”
“That’s ok. This is your job, right?”
Will nodded. “I’ll see you after the game in the lounge?”
“You will, and you’ll see me during the game if you turn around. I’ll be the one screaming for you.”
“There’s a lot of screaming in here. Do you think I’ll be able to pick out your voice in particular?”
“I’ll try to be louder than everyone else,” I said, and he smiled again. For someone who was just about to go play a game where other large men would try to kill him (and who would also be televised nationally while that happened), he seemed very relaxed. “Are you nervous?” I asked curiously.
“I’ve played a lot of football, for a lot of years.” But then he paused. “Yeah, I generally feel that there’s pressure.”
“Well, there is, right? There always has been, as long as I’ve known you. Except now there are a lot of other guys out there, too, and they should share the burden.” That was unlike our high school games, when the entire season had depended on Will Bodine, Football Star. “Anyway, even if things don’t go well, you’ll get up tomorrow and I’m going to make a really good breakfast.”
“Words to live by,” Will said. “I’ll see you soon.” He jogged a little way, but then turned. “I like your hair,” he called, and I grinned.
“Good luck,” I yelled, and he jogged off again. He didn’t need it, though, because he was always amazing. It wasn’t just natural talent but how hard he worked, too. I remembered that, years before, he’d told me about his goals and he’d shown me the list that he carried in his phone. He’d also shown me the other lists he’d made, which spelled out every step he would take to achieve what he wanted.
“See, here’s my workout schedule,” he’d said. Then he’d also demonstrated how he’d broken up the hours in his week so that he’d be able to study, work at his job, and take care of his mother. I’d been more than impressed, which I’d told him at the time.
“I have to be organized to get it done,” he had answered and now, looking back, I was even more impressed that an eighteen-year-old had known that and also had the ability to schedule his life in that way. It had made me think that I’d better buckle down, that I’d need to figure out exactly how to get around myissues at school so I wouldn’t have to sit and cry in the bathroom anymore. He’d inspired fourteen-year-old me.
“You’re inspirational!” I yelled toward his back. I’d been as loud as I could but even though the stadium wasn’t half-full yet, it was still too noisy for him to hear me. I went back to my seat and started talking to the people in the row ahead, which allowed me to keep my eyes on the field during the conversation. They were very, very knowledgeable and wanted to discuss the new center on the offensive line, a guy just out of college and replacing a player that everyone had loved. Then they had things to say about the running back, and somebody else on the offense, and blah, blah.
It was great that they knew so much but I was really only interested in the defense, and particularly in one player who was actually the best person in the stadium. Not only at football, but in general.
There was plenty of time to talk and they really could tell me a lot, so I listened and tried to take it all in. A few times, I even put the second knuckle of my left index finger on my lower lip, as Will did when he was thinking hard and absorbing information. After a while, he went back into the tunnel that led to the locker room and I could totally focus on what they were saying. More spectators had come by that point, and the stands were really filling up. The other people around us happily joined in the conversation about the offense and I did have to admit that it was important.
“I’m sure that you’re more interested in the other side of the game,” the woman next to me said, and she nodded knowingly.
“Oh, no. I’m a Woodsmen fan all the way,” I assured her. I pointed to my jersey in case she needed proof.
“We know,” she said. “I meant that you’re interested in the Woodsmen defensive players!”
So, she knew who I was—no, she’d said “we.” She’d sat down just a few moments before so she hadn’t seen me talking to Will. She must have recognized me—no, “they” all did? I retreated into silence for a moment, wishing I had followed his suggestion and had tried to get Miss Mozella to come here with me, but I didn’t have to be the girl crying in the bathroom stall anymore.
“I think it’s really weird that so many of y’all seem to know about me,” I said. “Why do you care?”
She was taken aback. “Well, the Woodsmen are our local heroes,” she responded slowly. “Of course we’re interested in their lives!”
