Dawn's second day of college was strikingly similar to the first; the morning began with a harrowing car ride, followed by boring lectures, interspersed with multiple confirmations that she was indeed Jeff Kramer's kid sister. The day might have been an exact replay of the previous if not for the evening football practice.
Dawn found herself stranded in the bleachers of Jackson Field while the coaches drilled a hopelessly out of sync army across the battered turf. She tucked herself amongst a crowd of young women who, judging by their conversations, were either current or prospective girlfriends of the young men on the football team.
Dawn thumbed through her English Literature textbook, a massive volume that barely fit on her lap. She skimmed over the first chapter's discussion of Ivanhoe. Unfortunately for the Anglo-Saxons and their Norman conquerors, she had read the classic novel twice before. There was little need to feel bored, however. The neighboring girls' catty remarks were as interesting as anything Sir Walter Scott had ever conceived.
"Number 64 is mine," one of the girls said.
"He's cute, if you're into that big boned thing," another joked.
"Oh he's big boned alright," the first girl bragged, holding the palm of her hands a good ten inches apart, "and he knows how to use it." They all snickered.
Dawn glanced at the field. 64 was hard to miss. The entire offensive line was huge but 64, Hayden Burt, towered over them all.
"Number twelve is more my style," the second girl remarked.
"Jeff Kramer? Oh God, that boy is hot!" The first girl said. The others practically groaned in agreement.
Dawn's eyes left the book again. The school's golden boy was appropriately dressed in a bright yellow jersey, a stark contrast to the other Choteau Knights who were clad in the standard issue scarlet and pewter uniforms. The message sent by the yellow jersey was clear: the other players were not allowed to breathe on Jeff Kramer, let alone touch him.
Jeff's long skinny legs carried him three yards backward. He stopped, planted his humongous feet, then stepped forward. His left arm snapped forward sending an arcing pass downfield. The ball spiraled upwards, defying gravity as it sliced through the night sky on an unstoppable path to it's intended receiver. Finally losing momentum, the ball plummeted back to earth; it landed with a plastic thud, ricocheting off the pads of number 80, then bounced on the grass. Muscles peeked through Jeff's tanned skin as he clenched his fists.
Quarterbacks are supposed to get upset when their receivers drop perfect passes; they're supposed to kick the turf and spit and cuss. Not Jeff. He calmly unfastened the chinstrap and slipped off his helmet. He trotted around the field, his sweat sodden black hair glowing auburn beneath the floodlights as he ignored the receiver's apologies.
He had never worn his hair so long. Shaggy strands of red-hued ebony meandered halfway down his neck. The style was bold and untamed. It suited him.
Dawn retreated back to the book, back to Norman England, where there were fewer sweaty men to distract her. She skipped ahead, flipping through the pages like a speed reader, pausing when she reached an illustration of Rebecca nursing Ivanhoe back to health. Dawn recalled what had puzzled her so much the first time she had read the novel.
How could Ivanhoe be such a dope? How could he choose Rowena, a girl so familiar and boring, over the beautiful, exotic Rebecca
?
Jeff's voice commanded her attention. "Coach is letting practice out early." Dawn glanced at the swollen moon before checking her wristwatch.
This is early
? "I need a few minutes to clean up."
She lowered her book long enough to nod but Jeff was already trotting off the field. The white of his pants had soaked through with sweat; she could see the lines where the elastic straps of his jock hugged the backs of his wiry thighs. If she really concentrated she knew she would see a hint of his tanned, naked skin beneath the damp uniform.
"What I wouldn't give to be in Red's place." Number 64's girlfriend thought she was whispering but Dawn heard every word.
"She must be keeping him happy," the second girl said. "He drives her to school and treats her like a princess. Who'd have guessed a little thing like that would be woman enough to domesticate Jeff Kramer?"
Dawn flushed pink at the talk, feeling a little embarrassed and a lot flattered. Being considered in the same league as the senior quarterback was quite an ego boost for the freshman, even if he was her jerk of a brother.
"They are most certainly not an item. At least I hope not." A third girl interjected herself in the conversation, a girl with a drawl as thick and sweet as a jug of sorghum. "The kid is his little, baby sister." The bleacher bowed beneath Dawn's rear as Liza Jennings sat beside her. "Hey there, remember me Little Red?"
She smiled shyly at Liza, the bleached blond cheerleader her brother practically worshipped. "D...Dawn. My name is Dawn."
"I remember," Liza assured. "I could never forget my sweet little Sunshine." The southern girl beamed a set of large, white teeth. "You know what? You really are his sister. I had my doubts on account of he's such a big boy and you're about the tiniest thing but I can see it, plain as rain." What did Liza see? If there was one person on the planet who was Dawn's polar opposite it was her big brother. The only resemblance she had ever noticed was the dark red shadings almost lost amongst the darkness of his coal black hair. "You have Jeff's eyes, greener than a bay tree in summertime." True, the siblings' eyes were a similar shade of green, but green eyes were common enough.
"How long have you been friends with Jeff?"
"Friends? Oh, we've been the best of buddies ever since my first day on campus. I was a shy little teenager, like you, and Jeff was making his second go as a freshman. He stalked me for more than a week before he finally caught me out on the commons."
Dawn imagined Jeff lurking amongst the towering oaks on the commons, picking and choosing his prey from the herds of ripe freshman flesh. She could also imagine why he chose Liza. She was the most fit person Dawn had ever seen. She must work out all-day everyday, there was no other way to have a body like hers.
"He asked me out about a million times before I finally convinced him my interests lay elsewhere."
Liza glanced at the emptying field. Dawn followed the cheerleader's eyes to the lanky form of her brother. He loomed large, even at the mouth of the service tunnel fifty yards away. He peeled the saturated yellow jersey over his head then waited as one of the equipment managers removed his shoulder pads. Free of the restrictive weight, Jeff grabbed an insulated bottle and squeezed the liquid contents over his head and neck. He was too far away for precise details but Dawn could imagine the icy drops of water fanning out across his long, lean torso, cooling his sweltering skin.
"I don't really go for Jeff's type," Liza said, "but he is nice to look at." Dawn nodded without meaning to. The blond girl's laugh made her feel foolish. After a few moments Jeff disappeared, swallowed by the stadium tunnel as he headed for the locker room. "Don't feel bad, Little Red. You aren't the first girl to have less than pure thoughts about Jeff Kramer." Dawn shifted on the bleacher. She hoped he wouldn't be long.
"I'm only teasing." Liza squeezed Dawn's kneecap, tensing the redheaded girl. "Gosh, but you're a jumpy little thing. You should relax, Red, acclimate your body to college life. There's no better place to acclimate than at one of Beth Appleby's parties. She just so happens to be one of my closest girlfriends and there just so happens to be a party scheduled for Friday if you're interested."
A college party, Dawn was fascinated by the prospect. She remembered her commitment to Jeff: the date he'd arranged with his friend Ronnie. "I can't, not Friday, I...I have a date."
