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Welcome to the Church of The Reverend Cotton Mather.  This story is
the sole property of the author, and may not be copied or downloaded 
for the intent of profit. Permission is freely given for anyone to 
download or copy for their personal pleasure or use, as long as 
there is no intent to charge money or barter for the privilege of 
acquiring this material.

   (Copyright 2005, revisions c. 2007, R.C. Mather)

E-Mail all comments to RevCottonMather at hotmail dot com
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THE COMPETITIVE EDGE:
PLAYING THE GAME III

A Novel

by R.C. Mather



- 32 -

HIGHER HIGHS, LOWER LOWS



I had to win back Kayla's confidence and respect. I knew that was my
only priority over the summer.

I also discovered that, between her work schedule at her father's
drug store and my work schedule with four camps to supervise, I
didn't have a lot of time available that coincided with her time off.

Instead of grumbling and grousing about it, I did what I did when I
had a soccer problem to work through. I attacked it, concentrated on
it until I could figure it out.

A couple of times a week, I stopped by Lehigh Drugs. I always had a
purpose. Restocking the mosquito spray for a location, or buying Band-
Aids, any little excuse became a reason to stop in at the store. If
there weren't any other customers waiting in line, I would loiter at
her cash register, just talking about inconsequential stuff. I just
wanted her to get used to seeing me often once again.

After two or three weeks of stopping by at unpredictable times, I
began to drop in around the time she would normally take her lunch or
dinner break. At first, she seemed a little reluctant to tell me she
was going to lunch, but I persisted. I wanted her comfortable around
me, comfortable enough to invite me to eat with her.

There were times when I stopped by and saw her old boyfriend,
Brandon, in the store. The first time, I attributed it to
coincidence. The second time I saw him, I knew I was mistaken. It was
not a coincidence he was there. I also was a little relieved,
actually. If Brandon was the guy she had gone to her Prom with, I had
nothing to worry about. She had already dumped him once to be my
girlfriend. I was confident I could win her from him again.

But then, I began to see another guy hanging around occasionally. I
didn't recognize him, but he was there too often for my taste. He was
tall, with Nordic good looks, and an attitude to match. He was built
like a football tight end, long and lean and strong looking. Kayla
and I weren't grounded firmly enough for me to point-blank ask her
about him. Was this Kayla's mystery Prom date?

Finally though, during the last week of June, my hopes and plans
came to fruition. I was leaning on the countertop at Kayla's register
station late in the afternoon. I knew she was working late that day,
staying until closing at nine. I was heading out the next day on the
road, driving down to Jesse's in the morning. I would be spending the
day with his camp and staying overnight at his house. The following
day, I was driving to Indiana to spend a half-day each with my
Merrillville and South Bend camps. I wouldn't be back home until late
on Friday night.

Kayla was noodling around, straightening stuff in a drawer under the
cash register. "What time are you leaving tomorrow?" she asked.

"Around eight in the morning," I replied.

"Won't you be in rush hour traffic that time of day?"

"Maybe. But I don't mind. I'll have plenty of time to get to Jesse's."

Kayla looked around. 'Is she looking for the blond kid I don't know?'
She glanced at her watch, and then checked the big clock on the wall
behind her.

"I need to go on my break," she said. She hesitated, and then
continued, "Do you want to go to Mike's Pizza and get something to
eat?"

My heart did a flip-flop. 'Did I? Oh boy, did I ever!'

"Sure," I said as nonchalantly as I could muster. 'Joe Cool, that's 
me.'

Kayla picked up the telephone next to the register and dialed the
code for the store intercom.

"Dina to the register, please. Dina."

Dina, a thirty-something frumpy woman who was working part-time at
the drug store so she could get away from her husband and bratty
kids, came slowly up to the front of the store.

"I'm taking my dinner break, Dina," Kayla said to her.

Dina favored her with a put-upon sigh. "Don't be late," she said
sourly. "I'm redoing the shampoo section."

"I won't be late," chirped Kayla.

She hurried to the back room to punch out and then came back up to
the front, where I was waiting.

"Hurry back," said Dina. She was leaning against the counter,
picking at something on her arm.

"I will," Kayla replied cheerily.

She pushed open the door ahead of me and began walking to the
passenger side of my car.

"I've never been late yet," she grumbled. "Not that that... biddy
would ever take note."

I unlocked the door and held it open for her. I couldn't stop
smiling. Luscious was in my car once again. The world was resetting
itself. "It's because you're a D.O.B.," I said.

I closed the door for her and stepped around to the driver's side.

"A D.O.B.?" she said. She was sitting demurely, her seatbelt on and
her hands folded in her lap.

"Yup," I said. "If it was Jake, he would be an S.O.B."

"Ah, I get it," she said with a smile. "D.O.B. Daughter of Boss."

"Right. Jake would be a Son of a Boss, but you're the D.O.B."

"Okay, but I'm always careful to do everything I'm asked. No
questions, no complaining."

"I know, but people like Dina Young will always assume you will be
the favored one. You're just cashing in on your birthright, and she
feels free to be resentful."

"But why can't she see I'm the one who cleans the toilets, sweeps
the floor, keeps my workspace neat and tidy, all that stuff."

"That doesn't mean she still doesn't think of you as privileged at
the store."

"Maybe I'm given more important things to do because I'm more
responsible," she complained.

"And you don't make mistakes," I said.

"So why is she like that?"

"Jealousy. A feeling of having no control over her life or her job.
Looking for somebody else to blame, anybody but herself."

Kayla glanced at me, a serious and meaningful look, but she didn't
say anything. 'For which I am grateful,' I silently said to myself. I
recognized the traits I had attributed to Dina Young all too well, as
they resided also in me.

We didn't have time for pizza, so we ordered sandwiches and sodas.
We were sitting across from each other in a booth. Kayla was chatty,
telling stories about Tara and Kyle, but I was only half-paying
attention.

Instead, I was sitting across from the prettiest girl I had ever
known, and I was nervous, sweating, and nearly paralyzed by anxiety.
I had spent months contemplating starting all over with Kayla, and
now, at the moment I had anticipated for so long, I was stricken
practically deaf, dumb, and frozen in place.

Kayla was just finishing a story about how Tara had dressed up Kyle
as a Hell's Angels baby for Halloween when our food arrived. She
busied herself getting her sandwich set up and pouring out a glob of
catsup for her fries. I suddenly found the simple routine had unglued
my tongue.

"So," I said as evenly as I could manage, "'Purple Rain' is playing in
town this weekend. Would you like to go see it on Saturday?"

She stopped what she was doing, looking down at her plate. She was
as still as a painting, and I knew what was coming. Without looking
up at me, she said, "I'm busy Saturday."

My heart rose up into my throat, and then dropped to somewhere
around my ankles.

"Oh. Okay," I said, much more calmly than I felt. I suddenly wanted
to be somewhere else. Anywhere else.

Kayla picked up her sandwich and took a bite. She got a sour look on
her face, put her sandwich back down on her plate, and moved it off
to the side.

I understood completely. My appetite had also disappeared, cast into
the well of my own despair and disappointment.

"I'm sorry, Sean," she whispered. She truly sounded sorry, though I
did note she didn't offer an alternative time or day for a date with
me.

"Is it Bronson?" I asked foolishly, my only glimmer of hope in a
suddenly bleak late afternoon. Bronson was our code-name for her
friend, Brandon. "I've seen him hanging around the drug store
sometimes."

She finally looked directly at me. She opened her mouth to reply,
and then snapped it shut. She merely shook her head.

"Is it that other guy I've seen? The blond dude? Was he your date
for the Prom?"

High spots of color bloomed on her cheeks. 'At last,' I thought, 'I'm
going to finally get some answers.'

Instead, her expression softened into one of faint amusement.

"So tell me, Sean, did you have one special girl you were seeing
last semester? Or were you playing the field?"

It was my turn to sit there in chagrined silence. All I could do was
look at her as she amusedly watched me stew in my own juices.

And so, with that disappointing meal with Kayla, the ground rules
for our pavane were established: Ask only those questions you truly
wished to know. It was the Lehigh-Porter version of "Ask me no
questions, I'll tell you no lies."



* * * * * * * * * *



I didn't let the impasse deter me, however. I persisted in my
campaign to win her back. I kept on dropping by the pharmacy, and I
added visits to Jake at his house to my repertoire. I kept the
conversations I had with Kayla as light as I could, and we kept each
other company at lunch or dinner at least once a week.

Brandon seemed to have stopped coming around, though I did see the
other guy too often. I found out from Jake his name was Thomas
Jorgenson, he was an honor roll student, a starter on the football
team, and he would be a senior in the fall, just like Kayla.

Now I knew who my main competition was. I just had to figure out how
to blow him out of the water.

Kayla helped my resolve, and contributed greatly to my improving
mood, by agreeing to spend the day with me and my friends on a
Saturday in July. We were going to the annual summer festival at
Applewood Heights, one of the bedroom communities close to where we
lived. They had carnival rides and games, and a DJ would be playing
records in the park until long after dark. We were going to dance our
blues away.

The morning started out cloudy with rain threatening, but by noon
the skies were beginning to clear. It was looking like it would be a
good day.

I picked Kayla up at her house at eleven-thirty, and we met Eric,
Keisha, Trent, and Danielle at Muldoon's, an Irish-themed restaurant
and bar that had recently opened. While we were waiting for our food,
we attempted to plan out our afternoon.

"I vote for beach," offered Trent.

"It's cloudy," Danielle countered.

"But it's clearing," said Eric.

"No, the water will be cold and ugly," said Keisha.

"What about you, Kayla?" asked Danielle. "What would you like to do?"

"I don't think it would be very comfortable at the beach just yet,"
she replied. "Maybe we could check it out a little later this
afternoon?"

"Okay, it's unanimous," declared Keisha. "No beach."

"Unanimous? Eric and I both voted for the beach," complained Trent.
"Sean? You going to tie this vote up?"

Before I could say anything, Keisha said with authority, "There is
no tie. We tallied the votes that counted, and it was unanimous."

"But..."

"Ain't no use," interrupted Eric. "They voted, and they threw out
the questionable ballots. We got to accept the decision of the
election judges."

"That's right," said Keisha smugly. I noticed she wrapped her arms
around Eric's arm, though, and pressed herself against him. I had to
admit it was a convincing enticement. I just wished I had a girl
willing to entice me like that. 'Just be happy she's here with you at
all,' I reminded myself.

After lunch, we all hopped into our cars and drove over to the park
in Applewood Heights. We had to park the cars several blocks away,
and the local police were directing traffic around the park. It was a
popular choice for a Saturday diversion, apparently. The six of us
walked by twos down the sidewalk toward the park entrance, joined by
others also heading in the same direction. By the time we reached the
crosswalk at the entrance to the park, there were about twenty people
crowding around the intersection with us. If this was any indication,
I was expecting the carnival section to be a madhouse.

I was correct, and it worked out wonderfully. We threaded our way
through the crowds toward the ticket booth, and to keep from being
separated by the throngs, we had to hold each other's hand. I tried
not to read anything into it, but Kayla didn't hesitate to take my
hand when I reached for hers as we entered the melee. I was very
reluctant to let her go so I could pay for our tickets, but I did.
She stayed right by my side, and once I had my wallet back in my
pocket I took her hand in mine once again, like it was the most
natural thing in the world. Outwardly, I was cool and calm. Inside, I
was dancing around like a manic Snoopy, a foolish grin on my face. It
was the happiest moment of my summer to that point.

There were higher highs coming. And there were lower lows just
around the corner.



* * * * * * * * * *



By the time the sun went down, we were tired, hungry, and thirsty.
We had gone on all the really good rides, enduring lines of up to an
hour in length in order to spend what seemed like fifteen seconds in
some sort of freefall. When we tired of those, the six of us found
ourselves running up a very long set of stairways, clutching burlap
bags, heading to the top of the Toboggan Run slides. It was too
crowded for us to take up six lanes very often for our individual
competition to see who was the slipperiest, so we ended up burning up
our tickets and riding double. We switched off partners for races,
but the moments I filed away in my memory banks for future reference
were the ones in which Kayla rode with me on the burlap sack, my
knees gripping her hips, her white-blonde ponytail whipping in my
face, and my arms wrapped around her waist.

We finally had to stop and refuel. It was hard, dusty work
entertaining ourselves. There were a number of food booths set up
along the fence, so we all split up to get our refreshments. Keisha
found a picnic table that a family was just leaving. She held it for
us while everybody else hunted and gathered. Danielle and Kayla were
in charge of drinks, Trent was in line for some barbequed ribs, and
Eric was ordering some egg rolls and fried rice. I got in line for
Italian sausage sandwiches and fries. We all brought our booty to the
table, where we spread out our feast. The girls handed out the sodas,
and we all dived in.

By the time we were done, there were just a few scraps of bread and
some lonely fragments of fries left scattered on the papers littering
the top of the table. It was perfect food for us, quick, hot, and
abundant, and we made short work of it.

"I think I need a nap," said Trent, stretching back to ease the
pressure of his full stomach.

Danielle patted his stomach. "I think you and Baby need to take me
dancing," she said.

Trent groaned. "Not yet," he pleaded. "You know what they say. You
should wait to go dancing for at least a half an hour after a big
meal."

"I think that's swimming," said Keisha with a laugh.

"You've seen me on the dance floor," retorted Trent. "It looks more
like swimming than what you could call dancing."

"Shit, man, it ain't even as graceful as that," said Eric. "The only
worse dancer I ever saw was Tiny Harrison." We all chuckled,
remembering Tiny at our high school dances. He was a man-mountain,
and when he occupied the dance floor everybody had to watch out for
fear of leaving with squashed toes.

"Well, I have to admit I'm not much better than that," I said.

Keisha gave me an appraising look. "Oh, darlin', you got your own
graceful moves. You can do-si-do me anytime."

"He is a good dancer," said Kayla, and it was such an automatic
throwback to the best days, it took us both a second to realize she
had put her arm through mine as we sat there. We both recognized it
at the same time, however, and it caused us to feel suddenly self-
conscious. She threaded her arm back out and moved a couple of inches
away from me on the seat, reminded of our not-so-intimate
relationship of late. I wanted to protest, take her arm back into my
possession, but it just wasn't the time or the place to make that
move. I tried to quell the uneasiness that quickly settled in the pit
of my stomach.

We cleaned up our mess and decided to move off and let somebody else
use the table. We wandered around the midway for an hour or so,
watching kids and adults try to beat the sucker games, and then we
idly strolled in the direction of the music the DJ was playing. We
staked out a patch of lawn and set our cups down. Trent grabbed
Danielle's hand and led her out to the dance floor, which was nothing
but a bunch of plywood sheets on the ground in front of the giant
speakers. Keisha held out her hand for Eric, and they followed Trent
and Danielle. Kayla and I looked at each other. She smiled, and that
was a good enough cue for me. I held out my hand, and she took it. We
threaded our way through the families sitting around, and we stepped
onto the plywood to boogie the rest of the night away.

Toward the end of the night, the DJ began to throw in more slow
songs. Kayla and I stayed out with my friends. We danced together
rather stiffly the first time, and then we switched partners for the
next. I danced with Danielle, and I managed to not step on her feet
as we box-stepped our way around the floor. For the third slow song,
I turned and there was Keisha. I opened my arms and she stepped into
them. She put both her arms around my neck and molded herself to me.
I held her around her small waist, and I was startled to discover I
was much more graceful with her than I was with Danielle.

"How do you do that?" I whispered, almost to myself.

"Hmmm?" answered Keisha. "Do what?"

"We kind of... glide together when we dance," I said. "I'm not this
good a dancer with other girls."

"Hmmmm," was all she said. She looked up into my eyes, an enigmatic
look on her dark and lovely face, and then she smiled. Her teeth were
bright white in the dusk. She put her head down on my shoulder, and I
knew I would get no more of an answer from her than this. I accepted
it, and we finished the dance comfortable with each other.

There were a couple more fast songs interspersed, and then another
ballad. Kayla and I moved together, and this time we were relaxed and
comfortable in each other's arms. I had my hands crossed and resting
in the small of her back, and she had her arms around my neck and her
head on my shoulder. I could hear her humming along as the Commodores
crooned "Three Times a Lady," and I wanted the song to go on and never
end.

All too soon the moment was about to pass. Toward the end of the
song, I let my right hand move up her back, bringing her even closer
to me, and she lifted her head from my shoulder. She had such a soft
and gentle look on her face, I bent down before either of us realized
what I was doing, and I kissed her. Her lips softened, and she held
me tight as she returned my kiss, her eyes closed. We stayed just
like that for moments that seemed to stretch into hours, only to
compress once again into far too short a time.

Our lips parted. I watched her face, beautiful and pale, as she
slowly opened her eyes and saw me watching her.

And, just like that, the defenses went back up. She stepped away
from me.

"Kayla," I began, but she put her hand up close to my lips.

Her expression softened. "I know," she whispered. "I remember what
it's like."

"Then why can't we..."

"We're not ready yet," she said, and I heard the truth in her words.
I wanted to tell her I was ready, but I knew she was not. I could do
no more until she was ready.

We walked slowly back to my car, in the company of our friends and
yet still alone together, holding hands comfortably. I couldn't
imagine being happier, and it was the highest my spirit would fly all
summer.



* * * * * * * * * *



A week later, I was still riding my emotional high. Kayla had told
me she was busy the next Saturday, but she had implied she might be
willing to go out with me soon.

I drove back from South Bend late on Friday. I was tired and hungry,
and I was wired from the drive. I wanted to get out of the car, but I
didn't want to just go home. I called Jake from a pay phone at an
oasis near the Illinois border, and he said he would meet me at
Mike's Pizza.

I pulled into the parking lot. There were quite a few cars in the
lot, and I could see, through the window, that most of the tables
were full. I found a spot, pulled in, and shut off the engine. I got
out of the car and stretched, looking around distractedly while I
tried to get the circulation going again. I noticed a new yellow
Mustang in the corner of the parking lot, parked facing out. The only
reason it really stood out was that the windshield and the side
windows were a little fogged. There was some heat being generated
inside that car.

"Hmmmph. What a cheapskate," I muttered. "Can't find a better spot
to make out."

I strolled into Mike's and waited until the busboy cleared the table
of a booth that a family of four had just vacated. I sat down at the
booth and ordered a Coke, and a few minutes later Jake came in. I saw
him looking around quizzically. I knew he had seen me, but he looked
like he was looking for somebody else. I saw him shrug, and he headed
over to where I was sitting.

"Dude, you look like death warmed over," he said.

"Feel like it, too," I replied. "How come you aren't with Jaimie?"

"Oh, her cousins are visiting," he said. "This is a good excuse to
get out of there for awhile."

We ordered our pizzas, refilled our glasses with sodas, and
proceeded to waste a couple of hours being best friends. It was very
satisfying, and by the time we were done I was feeling pleasantly
tired. I was ready for a good night's sleep.

Jake and I paid our bill and walked outside together.

"See you later, buddy," he said as he got into his car.

I walked over to my car, now one of the last ones left in the
parking lot. I fired it up and followed Jake out of the driveway. My
house was just past his, so I ended up following him all the way
until he pulled into his driveway. He had to pull around another car,
one that set my heart to thumping dangerously loud. It was a new
yellow Mustang, the windows still showing a taint of moisture where
they were hastily wiped down from the inside, and with a vanity
license plate that read TEE JAY 85.





(Continued in Chapter 33)


  
CE32