Instantly the faces of every woman in camp turned hard and unforgiving. Eye daggers were shot at Gene from every direction. If there was one thing that drew women together, it was a demeaning male bully. The only one who didn’t appear offended by Gene’s insensitive comment was Marsha herself. She seemed blissfully unaware of her role in the drama.
* * *
In an attempt toregain some control, Gene called to order our first of many meetings. With the help of Carl’s brawny strength, Summer had arranged logs in a triangle formation, and I had to admit, they were rather comfy. Gene’s chosen disciples sat on the two front logs, and the four of us squeezed onto the third and furthest away log.
Sitting shoulder-to-shoulder and slicked with sweat, I scanned our row of eclectic characters. Clearly we were the leftovers-the kids picked last at recess; the sad sack band of misfit toys.
My eyes lingered on Kyle sitting to my right, and I was surprised to find him smiling. This whole ridiculous situation seemed to amuse him. I wished I could muster the same carefree approach. I wondered if he truly appreciated the dangerous predicament we were in or if he just didn’t care. Was this merely a fun game to him?
The meeting was called to order, and it became clear almost immediately that our tribe was no democracy. Gene was unmistakably in control, and for now, the others were willing to follow. He launched into a long-winded, pointless game day pep talk. To illustrate his points, he gave us all football positions. Although my town had always revolved around our high school football team and I’d been to pretty much every Friday night home game since birth, I still didn’t know all that much about football. It had always been more a social thing for me. But although I was no expert, I knew enough to know that Gene had given the power players in the tribe the more desirable positions, like pass rusher, left tackle, and wide receiver. He conveniently claimed quarterback for himself.
Kyle, Marsha, Dale, and I got the crappier positions, like center, nose tackle, and punter. Gene pointed out that although some positions seemed more important and influential than others, a good team needed all players equally in order to win.
About three quarters of the way through the speech, Kyle put his hand up in the air. Gene ignored him and continued on with his rallying cry. Not willing to give up so easily, Kyle waved his arm around, trying to catch the man’s attention. He had it, but Gene refused to engage him until he’d completed his pep talk.
“Yes?” Gene finally asked, pointing to Kyle as if he were a student being called on in class.
“Um… yeah,” Kyle began with a completely straight face. “I was just wondering, since the positions are all equal, can I be the quarterback?”
I stifled a giggle, and several other tribe members snickered. I glanced over at Kyle, who caught my eye for a split second, mischievously curling his upper lip, before returning his full attention back to Gene. Damn, now I was going to have to addsmartassto my list of desirable traits.
“Is this funny to you?” Gene asked, irritably.
“No. I just never get to play quarterback.”
“That’s not surprising. Quarterbacks are leaders, son.”
“How do you know I’m not a leader?”
With a beady-eyed glare, Gene asked, “What’s your name again?”
“Kyle.”
“Well, Kyle, I’ve been coaching for forty-five years, and I think I know the difference between a winner and a loser.”
“Oh, trust me, coach, so do I.”
TV Confessional
“I was just happy Gene didn’t make me a cheerleader.”
—Kenzie
13
Kyle: Sunscreen and Disney Princesses
IknewI shouldn’t bite the hand that feeds, but I couldn’t help myself. I was a pro at sensing weakness. People like Gene, who thought they had it all figured out, were the easiest to rattle. Most of the time I just left the poor saps alone with their insecurities, but some – like Gene – who put others down to further their own agendas… they were just too fun to pass up.
Of course, now I’d royally screwed myself because the mob boss had it in for me. It had taken me all of four hours to put a giant target on my back. I nodded, impressed with myself. I’d held out longer than I’d imagined I would.
Although I wasn’t real happy about being left out on the curb, the plus side was I got to hang with the other weirdos, who were infinitely more interesting than Gene’s crew.
After the meeting, computer whiz Dale pulled me aside. “Meet me behind the rock cliff in ten minutes,” he whispered, as he looked around all pasty-faced and shifty-eyed. With his straight black bowl cut hairdo and Harry Potter glasses, Dale’s appearance screamed nerdy tech guy.
“You don’t want to buy me a drink first?” I countered.
Dale gaped at me. His round face blushed a bright red, and his alarmed eyes were magnified through the thick lenses of his spectacles. Dale obviously didn’t get that I was joking.
