“Which one of them have you fallen for?” inquired Tom, punching his friend on the arm.
“What?”
“You heard me the first time.”
Nat turned away so that his father couldn’t overhear his reply. “Second one from the left, with the letter A on her sweater.”
“Diane Coulter,” said Tom, pleased to discover that he knew something his friend didn’t.
“How do you know her name?”
“Because she’s Dan Coulter’s sister.”
“But he’s the ugliest player on the team,” said Nat. “He’s got cauliflower ears and a broken nose.”
“And so would Diane if she’d played on the team every week for the past five years,” said Tom with a laugh.
“What else do you know about her?” Nat asked his friend conspiratorially.
“Oh, it’s that serious is it?” said Tom. It was Nat’s turn to punch his friend. “Having to revert to physical violence, are we? Hardly part of the Taft code,” added Tom. “Beat a man with the strength of your argument, not the strength of your arm; Oliver Wendell Holmes, if I remember correctly.”
“Oh, stop droning on,” said Nat, “and just answer the question.”
“Don’t know a lot more about her, to be honest. All I remember is that she goes to Westover and plays right wing on their hockey team.”
“What are you two whispering about?” asked Nat’s father.
“Dan Coulter,” said Tom without missing a beat, “one of our running backs—I was just telling Nat that he eats eight eggs for breakfast every morning.”
“How do you know that?” asked Nat’s mother.
“Because one of them is always mine,” said Tom ruefully.
As his parents burst out laughing, Nat continued to gaze down at the A in TAFT. The first time he’d really noticed a girl. His concentration was distracted by a sudden roar, as everyone on his side of the stadium rose to greet the Taft team as they ran out onto the field. Moments later the Hotchkiss players appeared from the other side of the field and just as enthusiastically their supporters leaped to their feet.
Fletcher was also standing, but his eyes remained fixed on the cheerleader with an A on her sweater. He felt guilty that the first girl he’d ever fallen for was a Taft supporter.
“You don’t seem to be concentrating on our team,” said the senator, leaning over and whispering in Fletcher’s ear.
“Oh, yes I am, sir,” said Fletcher, immediately turning his attention back to the Hotchkiss players as they began to warm up.
The two team captains jogged across to join the umpire, who was waiting for them on the center line. The Zebra flicked a silver coin into the air that flashed in the afternoon sun before landing in the mud. The Bearcats clapped each other on the back when they saw the profile of Washington.
“He should have called heads,” said Fletcher.
At half time, Fletcher asked Jimmy’s father, “Can I borrow your binoculars, sir?”
“Of course, my boy,” said the senator, passing them across. “Let me have them back when the game re-starts.” Fletcher missed the irony in his host’s voice as he focused on the girl with an A on her sweater and wished she would turn around and face the opposition more often.
“Which one are you interested in?” whispered the senator.
“I was just checking on the Tafties, sir.”
“I don’t think they’ve come back onto the field yet,” said the senator. Fletcher turned scarlet. “T, A, F or T?” inquired Jimmy’s father.
“A, sir,” admitted Fletcher.
The senator retrieved his binoculars, focused on the second girl from the left, and waited for her to turn around. “I approve of your choice, young man, but what do you intend to do about it?”