Her sister Jen, who had always been a dweeb, had gotten a music scholarship at North Central Kansas State, but since her instrument of choice was the Cello, she did not play in the mighty NCK Marching Band. Instead, she carried the right side of the school banner marching at the front of the band. Jen's dorky friend Deana, or Darla, Dooty, something with a D, worked the left side of the forty-foot wide banner, when she wasn't having pneumonia, as she was today. Somehow, Cathy had allowed her sister convince her to stand in for the ailing Diantha, Doreen, whatever, and she was now wearing the red cowgirl suit and white hat, carrying the standard for the mighty North Central Kansas State Ranchmen, as they battled their historic rivals, Churchill College. From the size of the cowgirl suit and the large boot in her hand, Cathy imagined that Dooty was must be a giant.
She set the boot on the gravel path and reinserted her red stockinged foot, shifting her weight and removing the opposite boot for a similar adjustment of the other stocking. As balanced on one boot and extended her leg in front of her, she kicked the man in the thigh with her stockinged foot. At least she hoped it was his thigh. She looked up to see a startled Jimmy Holt looking back at her.
"Oh God, I'm so sorry I... Jimmy?" she had hoped not to see anyone she knew today.
"Hey Cathy. What's with the outfit, goin' to a rodeo or something?" Jimmy asked in an exaggerated southern drawl, and laughed at his little joke.
"My sister talked me into standing in for her friend who's sick. If I had seen the outfit, I might not have signed up." They both looked at the hokey costume. In the initial confusion, she had kicked over the empty boot and she was standing with her ruby clad toes perched on the side of the overturned boot. Jimmy Holt stared at her stockinged foot for a moment, and she felt herself blushing, blending in with the all red ensemble. She hurriedly bent to grab the boot and insert her foot, nearly banging her head into his knee. With the boot in place again, she returned her attention to Jimmy Holt. "What in the world are you doing way over here?" she asked. They both lived in a suburb of Kansas City, where Jimmy was one of the most popular guys in town.
"My little brother is a freshman here," said Jimmy, "and I came up for the weekend to see him. He's a wide receiver for the Ranchmen."
"Cathy! What are you doing?" she heard from behind her.
She turned to see an angry and breathless Jen standing between her and the scoreboard, which had 1:17 left on the clock.
"I've been looking all over for you!" Jen half wheezed and half shouted. "We gotta go," she added, and turned around jogging in the direction she had come from.
"Duty calls," Cathy said, breaking her gaze from Jimmy. "Nice to see you again," she said, waving, and running after her sister.
"Maybe I'll see you after the game," he called after her.
"Maybe'" she called out, and spun around to wave again running backwards for several steps. She saw his hand up just as the sky and the scoreboard suddenly came into view, a big white boot sailing through the picture. Flat on her back in the cool grass, she convulsed with laughter as her sister appeared holding the boot in her hand. Cathy sat up and reached for the boot her sister held out, managing to get her foot back into it before Jimmy made it to her side. He grabbed her hands and pulled her to her feet, looking concerned but somewhat amused.
"Well that was embarrassing," said Cathy, but she was smiling happily.
"Go get 'em," Jimmy Holt said, releasing her hands after the briefest pause, and pointing to the field, where the referee was watching the final seconds tick off of the play clock.
Cathy and Jen made it to the sideline just in time for the time clock to run out. "Remember, if you forget the routine, just follow what I'm doing and don't stop," Jen said, for the fortieth time in twelve hours. Not really brain surgery Cathy thought to herself, but just nodded at her sister in silent agreement. Twenty-seven steps straight out, march in place, then step backward diagonally for eighteen steps, rotate 90 degrees and march to the thirty yard line, march in place, rotate 180 degrees and march back to centerfield, ending on the big cartoon cowboy at the fifty yard line facing the stands.
Cathy was startled when a whistle blew next to her ear. Jen was already a half step ahead and she hurried to catch up. They had practiced the routine in the daylight, without the marching band, and now it all seemed different. Also, they had practiced wearing running shoes. The uniform boots were too big, and the smooth sole slipped as she marched across the damp turf. Eleven, twelve, thirteen, she counted in her head. She was in step with Jen again, and lined up with the ear of the cowboy cartoon that was painted on the field. Twenty-three, twenty-four, she accidentally stepped on the bottom edge of the banner, stumbling, but not falling down. She lost hold of the wooden handle and nearly dropped the banner on the ground. Twenty-five, nearly stepping out of the boot, twenty-six, she continued to count in her head as she struggled to regain her composure, twenty-seven. Twenty-seven was a particularly ungainly step. She had nearly stepped out of her left boot on twenty-five, and on the twenty-seventh step, she felt the chill of the damp grass touch her stockinged heel, and she looked down to see the toe of the boot pointing skyward, with her foot halfway out of the top. As she marched in place, the boot flopped around pointing to the end zone. She moved slightly toward the center of the banner, using the fabric for cover. She had righted the boot with her toes and was just about to insert her stockinged foot into the top of it when she was pulled off balance again by the banner handle, which her sister was pulling very hard.
Jimmy Holt sat in the front row directly behind the home team sidelines. He didn't much care for marching bands but this one had his full attention. Cathy Watson had been best friends with his girlfriend all through high school. He had always liked her, but he was dating Charlene Haskell at the time. After graduation, he and Charlene had dated through the summer, but they had called it quits when Charlene left to study something or other at USC. Jimmy didn't know if Cathy was seeing anyone now, but he was sure interested in finding out. He stared out across the field watching her marching in place, looking absolutely stunning, even in the ridiculous costume. It looked as though her sister was pulling the other end of the banner, and even from a distance, he could see that Cathy was out of step. After several awkward seconds, the two sisters and the bright red banner moved backward and diagonally away from him, leaving a gleaming white boot laying in the dark green field between the forty-five and fifty yard lines. Jimmy Holt felt his heart skip a beat, his eyes riveted to the empty boot on the field.
Cathy watched the empty white boot get farther and farther away from her. She felt silly marching through the damp grass with one boot and one red stockinged foot. Some of the people in the crowd were pointing at the boot and after a few seconds, the stands erupted in yells, whistles and even some applause. People seemed to immediately see the humor in the situation, and some of them waved at her from the sidelines, screaming and laughing. She was even laughing herself, and blushing crimson to match her skirt. In addition to losing her boot, she found that she had lost her count, and had no idea how far down the field they were heading at this point. She followed her sister through the rest of the five-minute routine, until they were back at the fifty-yard line, only twenty feet from her boot. As she marched in place, she inched forward, hoping that Jen would follow her lead. At first, Jen stayed put, but after exchanging a glance and a nod, they both inched forward together. In a half a minute, they had covered half the distance to the empty boot.
Cathy saw a brown shape approach from her left flying about four feet off of the ground. The shape landed directly in front of the boot.
The brown shape was the mascot for the Churchill Bulldogs. The man in the giant dog suit pounced on the boot, holding it down with his paw, and shaking his head wildly from side to side, the way her own dog often acted with his squeaky toy.
"BAD DOG!" she yelled, playing along with the gag. The band had stopped playing now and Bully the Bulldog had center stage to himself. The crowd was cheering wildly and Bully picked up the boot with his hand/paw and walked toward Cathy, offering the boot to her. The Churchill fans booed and hissed, until Bully pulled his hand back from her, held the trophy boot over his head, and ran around the field with it, barking and howling the entire time. He ended his victory lap by stopping in front of the Churchill section and teasing the fans by threatening to hurl the boot into the crowd. The drums started again and the Ranchmen Band retreated from the field. The last thing Cathy saw before she turned to leave the field was Bully letting the boot sail in a wide arc over the crowd, landing right in the center of the ecstatic Churchill fans.
"Well, I guess your friend Dee Dee is going to have to shop for some new boots," Cathy said to Jen as they walked back toward the stands. The Ranchmen had received the second half kick-off and had decent field position, igniting the enthusiasm of the crowd. When they reached the stands, Cathy was greeted with another round of good-natured applause as she sheepishly made her way through the crowd to the upper rows of the bleachers. They had just sat down when Cathy saw Jimmy Holt bounding up the stands two steps at a time.
"What happened out there?" he asked breathlessly, and sat next to her on the metal bench.
"Those stupid boots are too big for me, and probably too big for you Jimmy," she said, "I just stumbled and walked right out of the damn thing."
"I don't imagine you'll get it back," he said, sounding very serious. " You know, this is how rivalries get started, like teams playing for the little brown jug, and that sort of stuff."
"Oh great," Cathy said. "Future classes will play Churchill to win my stinky old boot for a trophy!" She noticed that Jimmy was staring at her stockinged foot. Flexing her toes, she added, "I can't complain about the nylons. A couple of trips around the field and a half lap on the running track with out even a snag. They do have a few grass stains though." She noticed that Jimmy was examining her wet stocking intently, which made her feel slightly embarrassed. She pulled her exposed foot back and tucked it under her leg. "My foot is cold from the wet grass," she remarked, turning her attention to the game.
Without a word, Jimmy Holt moved up a row and sat on the bleacher seat directly in front of Cathy. He leaned back and pulled off her remaining boot in one motion, tucking her stockinged foot inside of his coat pocket with his hand around her instep. Her foot was hot in his hand, and he patted his other hand on the opposite pocket, motioning her to insert her other bootless foot.
"No Jimmy, I..." she stopped mid sentence as he quickly pulled his hand from her foot in his pocket.
"I'm sorry Cathy, I shouldn't have been so..."
"No, it's very sweet," she said, putting her arms around his neck from behind him. " It's just that my foot is probably filthy from walking around barefoot."
Jimmy relaxed, and put his hand back on her warm stockinged foot in his pocket. He searched out her other foot with his free hand and guided it into the opposite pocket, cupping his hand over her chilly toes. Of the delicate pair, he would have to admit that the warm toes in his right pocket were nicer than the cool and damp toes in his left, but he was so very happy just to sit there and watch the rest of the game with her. Jen had disappeared at some point, but neither of them had noticed.
When there were several minutes left on the clock, Jimmy Holt decided to take his shot. "So, what are you doing after the game?" he asked, trying to sound calm and confident.
"I don't really know," she answered. "Jen is driving me back to the city tomorrow because we rode up together, but I don't really have any plans tonight. Jen is going to hang out with her band friends I think."
"We could go get something to eat," he suggested. "In fact, you could ride home with me tonight and save Jen a trip tomorrow."
"That would be great," Cathy said, sounding pleased. "We have to go back to Jen's place so I can get some shoes though."
Jimmy Holt drew in a deep breath and held it. Take a chance Jimmy, he told himself in his head. "Do we have to go get the shoes?" he asked in a playful tone. He couldn't see her reaction because she was behind him, and it seemed like an eternity before she spoke.
"Well I guess we don't have to get my shoes," she said, and she dug her toes deep into his pockets, poking his ribs and making him squirm and laugh.
Cathy pulled her feet out of Jimmy's pockets, stood up, and stepped down to Jimmy's level, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek. Suddenly, she grabbed his hand and led him down the metal stairs in her silky red stockinged feet, leaving the solitary empty white boot standing upright on the top step of the grandstand, gleaming under the stadium lights.
Snowman
