Moonlight on the glowing dew on the high school football field
warmed our bodies. Neither of them had seen such a field before.
Tonight was as special as new. Sam and I were still seventeen years old with
bright futures and there was plenty of time.

We sat side by side on one of the bleachers, at first holding
hands, but in a short time, embraced, foreheads and lips touching, our lips
moist, whispering -like a mantra- the voice I hear with consoling words: “Chapel
Hill is not far from Raleigh. We would still see each other in college. “

As my body trembled, Sam hugged me so tightly that I hoped he wouldn’t let go of me until
throne. And he wished there was no thunder. Together
almost every day since high school sealed our friendship. “I’ll drive up
Chapel Hill to take you and we’ll spend the weekends together like we did at
high school, “Sam said as I approached,

On weekends we would get together from time to time to watch a movie so we could
hold hands safely. Fully clothed some nights I would wait under my covers
bed, wet with fear, until Mama Celia, my grandmother, finished boiling water in the old kettle. He could hear hot water and ivory soap splashing into his white Ironstone sink; and, singing the hymn “I come alone to the garden”, I knew that the prayers, then the dream, would quickly follow. Sam would soon be pushing his little red car, with the lights off, into my grandmother’s driveway for me. On Key Club excursions, sharing connecting rooms in the hotel, with the doors closed, we laugh,
they laughed and played together in the shower. Now things would be
different.

I stayed with him on the field still kissing, we stood up, we took off
shirts and belts, unbutton our jeans, push them around our ankles. Y,
Feeling like a convict planning an escape, I lay back in the cold bleachers
as Sam slid over. Our grunts and groans harmonized and faded into the
night music of all other nocturnal animals. Sam kissing my ear
He said softly, “Everything will be fine; nothing will change. I promise.”

We climbed the stairs leaving the school football field with our memories echoing
in our hearts, as he walks with me to the car and maybe back to the
big prom at Rhonda’s daddy’s hay barn, where we were before
He wanted to go away to be alone with Sam.

The glare of the moonlight casts strange shadows on the dew-soaked grass and
against the red brick walls of the old high school, making everything seem
bigger, even strange. But when a shadow seemed to walk towards us, we
He prayed it was just a strange flash of moon-bleached light. Our hands fell to
our sides. Quickly, instinctively we turned around to turn to the other side of
building.

“Stop! Don’t move, damn it!” yelled the former shadow now deputy sheriff.
“On your knees. Take your shoes off, now!” His voice was a
overwhelming boom, as hard and raw as the morning dew it was soft and peaceful. Resembling a canon, his weapon was drawn not far from our face. Under the lights of the school walkway, our hearts were an airstrike pounding in our
ears as we tried to remember how to untie our shoes and stay on our knees in
at the same time. Why couldn’t we take our shoes off our feet?

The bailiff observed us at the same time as a police patrol car arrived and
stopped. Wear a matching Cub Scout uniform and hat adorned with
colored fishing lures, the sheriff got out of the car. “Nice job,
Rep. Chandler. I see they didn’t get away from you, “he yells.
and looks at us lasciviously. He seems more upset than angry.

He walks over and yells, “You guys really screwed up my fishing
Weekend! “The deputy, too pleased with his capture, moves to make way for the
Sheriff, lowering his gun. “What the hell are you going to do here?
anyway? “Somehow I managed to say,” Nothing, just walking, sir. ”
“What’s your name boy?” He yells.
“Lorrie sir,” I say breathlessly still on my knees, holding my shoes
in one hand, while looking up, amazed at the circumference of the belly.
“It must be,” the sheriff replies, “one of them is lying, no
well, ‘Lorrie’, isn’t it now? ”
“No sir, I am not lying.”

More deputies appear. Sam and I are escorted to school barefoot.
main office. I looked at Sam. His cheekbones flushed, which
normally they look like a baboon’s butt glistening in the sun, now they were doughy,
white school glue. He was scared; I was dizzy with fear. God I wanted
comfort him with my arms, but I knew better. He would probably pass out if he took
another step. Once in the office, we were separated and for the first time
Understood that our love for each other might not be enough to save us.
this time if they saw us in the stands. Nobody knew where we were.

“Are you a student at this school?” says the deputy. “Yes both
They are. “I said. The deputy, picking up the receiver and while making glances
stern, incredulously towards me. “Good evening, Director Christi, I hate to bother
you and your family at this hour. East Deputy Clarke, Wake County Sheriff
Department, sir. As you know, we have heard that there might be some
drinking on the school grounds here tonight. And we have a SAM PARKER and a TYRONE LORRIE here in the high school office, “he says reading our names.
our driver’s license. “They say you know them and that they are students of
Henson Senior High School “.

The officer repeats the names again. “Vice President of the Student Council,
don’t say … uh … and members of the Honor Council. “He looks at me again.
this time disappointed. “Does it matter which one? Okay, just one
moment.”

“Take it,” orders the deputy, “the director wants to talk to you.”

“Oh no!” Shaking, I pick up the phone trying not to drop it on me
toes. “How are you, Mr. Christi?” I say foolishly through clenched teeth.

“Mr. Lorrie,” he says with a loud southern growl, “no
how to get phone calls from the sheriff at one o’clock in the morning
the night before graduation to hear that my honor roll students are running
around campus playing hide the beer can. Can you hear me, Mr. Lorrie? “Yes,
sir, i do. “But …” he interrupts me and says: “Put the helper back on and I’ll do it
talk to you in the morning. I gave the phone to the deputy. Mr. Christi speaks;
the deputy listens, then I hear: “Yes, sir, I understand.” He makes an offer
main “Good evening,” hang up the phone.

“We found an empty beer can and a straw on a school bus,” Rep. Clarke said.
he told me accusingly. Who brought the beer? “What beer? We were
only at a party not long ago where sliced ​​oranges, limes and lemons floated
along with ice cubes in a 190 degree Everclear and Kool-Aid mix,
called ‘P.J’. “There were four, seventeen gallons, round galvanized
tubs at Rhonda’s hay barn prom. Beer? There was “PJ”, not a word left my lips.

The door opens; Sam walks in, followed by more grown men in Cub Scout gear and with a glance, he confirmed that the joy we shared was safe for now.

© 2006