Blind Your Ponies by Stanley Gordon West Page B

Peter shouted and bantered with the boys while they scrambled for the four showers and dressed. It was as though a large 0–93 were stenciled in bloody red on the wall and everyone averted his eyes.
    “That was the toughest practice we’ve had in four years,” Rob shouted.
    “That would just be a warmup at Highland,” Pete said.
    “Who’s got a towel?” Tom hollered.
    “I do,” Dean said.
    Tom took one look at the tattered towel and hooted. “That’s not a towel, Dean, that’s a rag. That wouldn’t absorb snot.”
    “I don’t think they’re going to get any easier,” Rob said. “Mr. Pickett has changed. He has a look in his eye.”
    “It’s about time someone had a look in his eye around here,” Tom said. “We practice our balls off but never win.”
    “You did good today,” Rob said and slapped Olaf on the back.
    “Dying I am thinking,” Olaf said, drooping on a bench.
    Tom pulled on his J. Chisholm boots and looked at Pete. “How big is the school you go to?”
    “Around twenty-one hundred.”
    “Kids?”
Tom said.
    “No, ninja turtles.”
    “Shit, that’s bigger than Three Forks,” Tom said.
    “Would you have started on the varsity this year?” Rob said.
    “I don’t know. When I go home after Christmas I’ll find out.”
    “You can’t go home now, dude,” Tom said as he nudged Pete aside by the small mirror. “We need you, man.”
    “You got that right,” Rob said.
    The other boys chimed in.
    Pete combed his hair and enjoyed the unexpected affection he felt from being wanted.
    “You don’t have to look pretty,” Tom said. “Your girl’s in Minnesota.”
    “Yeah, but I want to look nice for all the cows and sheep and horses I’ll meet walking home on Main Street.”
    Tom laughed and slapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t forget to say howdy to the pigs.”
    A S ALWAYS , S AM checked the gym before leaving, making sure the school was locked up. When he finished checking the boys’ locker room, he noticed a sliver of light draining from the girls’ locker room. He knocked on the door and asked if anyone was there. Hearing no response, Sam stepped in, reached for the light switch, and was struck dumb by a vision he couldn’t immediately comprehend. Diana stood, naked and with her eyes closed, toweling her wet hair.
    For a moment he couldn’t move or speak, couldn’t take his eyes off her firm athletic body. She bent forward and vigorously dried her long, almond colored hair. Her body consumed him like fire, sucking the air out of him.
    When she opened her eyes and saw him, she gasped. Their eyes met for a second. Then, she whipped the towel around her torso and Sam turned around.
    “Oh, gosh, I’m sorry,” he said, gazing at the scuff-marked concrete floor. “I didn’t know anyone … I was just … I saw the light and … I’m really sorry.”
    He darted out the door without another glance.
    L ATE THAT NIGHT , after all the boys—except Tom—had come and gone, Sam tried to diagram plays on a notepad, but frustration plagued him in every attempt to concentrate. That accidental vision of Diana had so routed him from his path that he found himself addled and disoriented.
    He’d been celibate in the five years following Amy’s murder, but after witnessing Diana he was hopelessly overcome. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t erase her from his energized mind. Her image was a like grass stain he couldn’t wash out.
    The following night, after a tortuous practice, when he had lingered in his classroom an appropriate length of time, he made his way back to the gym to lock up. With rampaging anticipation, he had dreaded finding a seductive light beckoning from the girls’ locker room, terrified that she might be nakedly awaiting his return, yet at the same time, agonizing to catch another glimpse of her, a whiff of her soapy dampness. There had been no light.

CHAPTER 14
    Sam was running, puffing, and breaking a sweat, pushing himself past the Blue Willow Inn