September 4th, 1978, Monday, Sageley, Iowa
The clamor of the first day at school swirled around us as George opened his locker. “Hey, Spence, is this the year you decide to get a steady girlfriend?” He displayed his impish trademark grin with the space between his teeth.
“Wash your mouth out with soap,” I said. “I have no interest in dating a girl at this school.” I rummaged in my bag for an ink pen and scribbled my name on the locker tag: Spencer Edwards, senior.
George swept his fingers through his cowlick before printing his name on his locker tag: George Bailey, senior. “Come on, Spence. Don’t be a wallflower. Will you be the only senior who isn’t dating someone?” He dropped his book bag on the floor and extracted four three-ring binders and five textbooks.
I snorted. “What about Ken Hunt, Bill Greenslade, or Ron Hartmann? They aren’t dating anyone.”
“Yeah, but they don’t count because they’re nerds. If you had a girlfriend, you could go double with me and Christy.”
“Quit scheming to hook me up with someone. Last year, all the girls had boyfriends, or they didn’t meet my standards.”
He waved a finger in my face. “Loosen up a little. You’ve got to have fun. Is there any girl in this school who measures up?”
“Yeah, if you dumped Christy, I’d ask her out in a flash. Come on, it would take a prybar to peel her away from you. I’m not interested in anyone else, and I won’t change my standards, so forget it.”
I stuffed my books in the locker and nudged him with my elbow. “Look at the balcony. They repainted the school’s name, and the yellow lettering doesn’t look as nice compared to last year’s tan.”
“Nah. Except for the added flourish to the L and C, it’s not much different, just a lighter shade. It still says, Lincoln Christian High School.”
Big John Dawson lumbered up and selected the locker next to George. In his low voice, he said, “Good morning, guys. Are you ready to start another year at Lincoln Christian?” His locker clanged open, and he stuffed an armload of books inside before scribbling his name on the tag.
“I’ll be glad when it’s over,” George muttered. “Graduation will be my time to celebrate.” He pointed to John’s football jersey. “How good is this year’s team? Better than last year, I hope.”
John’s eyebrows danced. “Since Barry Peterson is the quarterback, Coach says we might win the conference. The guy’s good.” He swung his arm as if tossing a football.
I grunted. “That’s good to hear compared to last year’s mediocre finish.”
John grabbed a textbook. “Ain’t that the truth? Hey, have you guys seen Miss Eby, the new music teacher? She’s a real looker.”
“No, I haven’t,” I said. “I dropped music.”
He grinned. “Bummer. She’s great eye candy, and you’ll miss a grand show. I know a guy who signed up just because of her.” He tucked a book under his arm. “Don’t forget to come to the game on Friday. We’ll win for sure with Barry leading the team. Anyhow, I’ve gotta run. See you guys around.” He climbed the stairs to the upper floor.
I pulled my history book from the locker. “If our team is anything like last year’s, it’ll take a miracle to win the conference title. My first class is history. What’s yours?”
George grabbed his geometry book. “I’m headed to McIntyre’s class, and he’s a grouch. Want to trade? You take mine, and I’ll sit in yours.”
“That’ll be a momentous day when Mr. Bly lets a student sit in for someone else. Our illustrious principal would never let that happen.”
“Yeah. Bly’s a stickler.”
“I know, he’s stubborn. By the way, where were you yesterday? You weren’t at the youth group, and the preacher asked about you.”
“One of our best milk cows got stuck in the mud by the pond,” said George. “Dad and I worked late to get her out.”
“Was she alright?”
“She wasn’t injured, but her milk production will drop, and Dad’s not happy about it.” He pulled a class schedule from his pocket and browsed through it. “Hey, what are you taking since you dropped music?”
“I figured woodworking is more practical. I enjoy singing, but building stuff could be handy later on. This year’s project is a walnut desk to put by the phone for Mom.”
“Wow. You’ll have to adapt the plans for her bad leg. She’ll need to stretch it out.”
I tapped my head. “I’m thinking hard about how to do it exactly. She has to be comfortable when she sits, but I don’t want to make it too wide because of the limited space. What about you? Are you still in the band?”
“Yeah. I’ll be the bass drummer, like always. Boom, boom, boom.”
I jabbed him with a finger. “You mean Jennie beat you out for the first chair? I thought you were better than her.”
“Nah, I play for fun and didn’t contest the honor of the first chair. It’s all hers. Hey, I signed up as a distance runner for the track team. Coach said my stamina would help them out.”
“Really? Is your dad okay with you being away from the farm to run the mile?”
“Yeah, we discussed it. He said I should have fun before graduation. Coach put me on the relay team, too. He said my strong legs would make a difference at the finish line. Hopefully, we’ll advance to the state level. Why don’t you come out and help the squad? Your long legs could really eat up the track.”
“Come on, George. I’m skinny as a rail and hardly weigh a hundred and fifty pounds soaking wet. Besides, you’re always faster than me in the Fourth of July races at church.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Hey, speaking of sports, we need to consider our yearly wager.”
I groaned. “Can’t we forget it this year? You always win our bets? Last year, I thought we’d thump our rival at the homecoming football game. We lost. The year before that, I thought we’d beat Almon in basketball. We didn’t come close. I don’t recall the bet from our freshman year. I’ll concede this year’s wager and give you twenty bucks.”
George extracted a comb from his hip pocket and ran it through his cowlick. “Nope. It’s not gonna happen. I want a legitimate clean sweep—four wins for every year of high school. Don’t forget that this is my year to choose what we bet on. I won’t choose a sports event. It’s got to be something different.”
“Yeah, like what? How will you stack it in your favor? What about betting that you and Christy get hitched right after graduation? That’ll be a sure thing.”
He grinned. “Hey, I like the idea. If I asked, she’d say yes. But her dad would nix it and make us wait so she could go to college for a couple of years. Her mom would jump at the chance to put on a wedding. But nah, it wouldn’t be fair. What about something that involves you, like dating someone? Since your sisters’ accident, you’ve not had—”
I balled my fist under his nose. “Don’t you ever mention my sisters. I thought you knew better.”
He quickly stepped back. “Calm down, Spence. I’m sorry.”
I tightened my fist. “They’re forbidden territory. Got it?”
He held up his hands. “Alright, I got it. They’re off-limits, and not another word.”
You lost control, Spence. Count to ten. I took a breath and relaxed my fingers. “Sorry. It’s just … I don’t know. It’s a sore point.”
“I didn’t mean to get you riled. Mum’s the word. Hey, for our wager, what about Linda going to the prom with you?”
“Drop the idea of me dating someone, especially Linda. She’d flat-out say no. I don’t know why, but she would. I invoke Linda as forbidden territory. For our wager, if you’re bent on me taking a girl to the prom, I could ask Karen, Grace, or Ann. They’d go with me.”
“Nope. It can’t be them, because they’d say yes. I want uncertainty in our wager.”
“What if I asked Stephanie to the prom?”
“She’s pretty enough, but she’s your relative. That would make her forbidden territory.”
“She’s my second cousin, and there’s nothing illegal about that,” I said.
“Nah. It’s gotta be someone new.”
“Hey, turkey. Why does our bet have to be about a girl? Why not something like both of us working toward an A+ in a class? Or there’s the election in November. We could wager whether Governor Ray gets voted out of office.”
He shook his head. “Nah, I get mostly Cs, and you get mostly As. Forget politics. Our other wagers have been about something at school, and I’m leaning toward you dating someone. Hey, here’s an idea. How about you ask a girl in the freshman class to the prom?”
“Hey, goofball. That’s cheating. Mr. Bly doesn’t allow freshmen or sophomores to go to the prom. There you go again, trying to stack the deck in your favor. Our wager must be fair.”
He grinned. “Yeah, you caught me on that one. Let me think.”
“Hey, George, here are some ideas: the Muhammad Ali and Leon Spinks rematch, which teams go to the World Series, or who wins the Super Bowl.”
“Nope. Those are sports events. Besides, Ali will win the fight, that’s a given. The Yanks and Dodgers are sure to be in the World Series, and I hate professional football.”
“Then you’re just as picky as me.”
He grinned, showing the gap between his teeth. “Yeah. We’re both choosy.”
I flicked my gaze to the flow of students in the hallway and did a double take. My mouth dropped open. “Oh, wow. Who’s the new girl with Christy?”
He spun around. “Wowzah. That girl isn’t just pretty. She could replace Raquel Welch as a pinup girl. Look at her long legs.”
I swallowed. Christy assisted in the principal’s office, so this new girl would be someone Mrs. McManus, the administrative secretary, had asked Christy to show around. The girl’s long strides swung her dark ponytail back and forth. Her gray skirt fell below her knees instead of just above them, as the dress code permitted. Christy stood at five-foot-six. I was six feet tall, and this girl could look me straight in the eye.
The two girls, intent on their conversation, strolled past us, and neither looked in our direction.
A couple of guys stared after the new girl as she and Christy disappeared around a corner.
George’s mouth hung open. “Gosh, that chick is beautiful. If I weren’t going steady with Christy, I’d consider asking her out.”
“Would you consider her for our bet?”
“Hey, I thought you weren’t interested in dating.”
“I never said I wasn’t interested in girls, just not the ones in our class. That girl is a transfer student.”
“What if she has a boyfriend?”
“I didn’t see her wearing someone’s class ring, so she’s available.”
“Come on, Spence. She’s gorgeous and probably has lots of guys dying to ask her out.”
I glanced at where the girls had disappeared. “I’m interested in learning more about her unless she has a boyfriend. That would put her in forbidden territory.”
The first bell clanged above our heads, letting us know we had three minutes to get to class.
George picked up his books. “Let me chat with Christy and see what I can find out. We’ll discuss this after school.” He climbed the stairs to his geometry class.
I gathered my books for history. In my rush to class, my mind whirled. George and I were Christians, and I promised Mom I wouldn’t date anyone with questionable standards.
If the girl had poor morals, I’d put her in forbidden territory. Did she smoke? Did she drink? She was easy on the eyes, but did her looks affect her personality?