Light of Dawn Ch. 02

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."

"So bring him along. On the off-chance he seems reluctant just say there'll be plenty of beer. Works on the guys every time, or so they tell me."

Dawn stuttered. "I don't really know anyone."

"You'll have your date," Liza said, "and of course I'll be there." Dawn sputtered noncommittally. "Don't forget Jeff, it wouldn't be a party without your stud of a brother. Red, sweetheart, not many freshmen get invited to Beth's get-togethers. Being seen would do wonders for your reputation."

Reputation was the magic word. A reputation as something other than Jeff Kramer's little sister seemed like the most important thing in the world. She accepted the invitation, further warming to the sweet talking southerner. The two young women chatted about school for a while; it seemed Liza was on a name basis with two of Dawn's professors. The conversation shifted to Jeff, a subject where they both had plenty to say.

The fifteen minutes stretched forever while the unforgiving bleachers gave Dawn a numb backside. Liza had long since departed when Dawn abandoned the other girls to wander across the field, coaxing feeling back to the tingling flesh by massaging her butt through the stiff new pair of tinted jeans.

The retreat to a more conservative wardrobe was due in no small part to the cruel comments Jeff had made yesterday. He had accused Dawn of using her body to influence her professors. Did he know she cried when she buried the red knit short shorts deep within her closet? Did he care? She doubted it.

After more than an hour in the locker room Jeff stormed out of the tunnel. He plodded across the field, kicking and tearing loose sod with the toes of his sneakers. He mumbled cusswords with each step.

"You said a few minutes." Dawn huffed; it was difficult to keep pace with his enormous stride.

"That's what I thought, but Coach chosetonight for his annual sermon. Give back to your community; help those less fortunate. Someone should give him a shovel to clean up all the horseshit he splattered in there. If that fat dinosaur thinks I'm going to spend my Friday night in some lame ass hospital---"

"Hospital?" Dawn asked.

"Yeah, he wants the team to waste the night at County General signing autographs in the children's ward. You should have heard the fat bastard. To hear him talk, signing a football is all you need to do to cure some bald kid's cancer."

She froze. "Jeff! How could you be so...selfish?" There were a few stronger adjectives she wanted to use.

"To Hell with Coach and to Hell with that fucking hospital." He kicked the grass field, the toe of his sneaker tore up a huge chunk of sod. "Handshakes and smiles won't do a damn bit of good once the chemo and radiation fail."

"It helps to know someone cares," Dawn said.

"It didn't help Mom."

No, nothing could help Mom. The cancer had spread past her ovaries, advancing too fast to be treated. Jeff groaned. He tugged at the reddish ends of his dark black hair. "I sacrifice. I work my ass off at practice and I smile for the Goddamned cameras even when I feel like shit. What more do you people expect from me?"

More, she thought. It was only one Friday. He couldn't spareone Friday to make some poor, sick child feel special? Volunteers had made Mom feel better in her final weeks. For a moment Dawn remembered the boy Jeff had once been, never an angel, but nothing like the self-centered monster that stood before her. She wondered, and not for the first time, just what kind of a man her big brother had become.

Several minutes passed on the car ride home before Dawn found the gumption to speak. "I talked to your friend, Liza. She invited me to a party on Friday."

"Beth's party?" Jeff sounded more than a little surprised.

Dawn nodded. "She said she really wants to see me there."

"I'll bet she does." His voice was tinged with cynicism.

"She seems really nice."

"She's a sweetheart. It's just..." Jeff trailed off. He watched the road while she waited for him to finish his thought. "She's gay."

She knew her brother was petty and vindictive but to peg a nice girl like Liza as a lesbian just because he couldn't get into her panties was awful. "Jeff, that's a horrible thing to say about someone."

"A horrible--Dawn, I'm not kidding around. She's a lesbo, a dyke, a carpet sampler."

"So she doesn't melt every time you look at her, that doesn't make her gay."

"Be serious, Sunshine."

He was right. Most every girl melted for Jeff, whether they wanted to admit it or not. Those who didn't had to be either blind or gay. "Even if she is...," she couldn't even say lesbian, "it's no big deal." At least it shouldn't be a big deal. Truth be told, to a sheltered suburbanite like Dawn, Liza's orientation was avery big deal. She didn't want to seem like an ogre so she dipped into a supply of politically-correct clichés. "It doesn't make her a bad person."

"No, not like a criminal or anything, just unattainable, even to someone like me." He stabbed a finger into the soft flesh of her upper arm. The finger slid from the sleeve of her cotton top across bare skin, raising a trail of goosebumps amongst the freckles. Dawn wanted to melt right then. Had he not seemed so repugnant, she would have.

"Just remember Sunshine, you're not at Brownie summer camp. This is college. The people here come in all shapes, sizes and colors. Some are going to be gay. Others will be paragons of heterosexuality," he used a pair of thumbs to indicate himself. "Welcome to Choteau University, a wonderland of diversity."

Friday night, Jeff lived up to his word. He snubbed his coach and the hospital in favor of Beth Appleby's party.

Dawn dropped her lipstick on the counter and emitted a frustrated squeak when she heard his Thunderbird roar to life outside. She was angry because there would be no repercussions. No one would utter a critical word. The athletic department would take no action. Heaven forbid he be disciplined or suspended. The Choteau Knights couldn't fill a single row of bleachers, let alone a whole stadium, without their left-handed savior.

He'll show up for the game Saturday afternoon, haggard and hung over. Trumpets will play and his subjects will cheer while handshakes and high fives spread among the stadium like some kind of Jeff-induced plague. Jeff the disease, Jeff the cure, it makes no difference to the alumni as long as Choteau's star quarterback graces the field with his presence. Sometimes Dawn wondered if she was the only person on campus who saw Jeff for the pathetic human being he truly was.

The weather had turned warm again so Dawn was forced to raid the summer attire she had buried deep within the closet. After much internal debate she settled on a candy striped polo and denim skirt. The skirt fell to mid-thigh and the striped top hugged her form just right. She liked what she saw in the mirror: innocent, yet almost sexy.

Ronnie arrived a breath before eight. Standing well under six feet tall with pensive gray eyes, he was cute in a bookish sort of way but nothing spectacular. Since turning fifteen it seemed like she had gone out with a succession of Ronnies. Apparently short and bookish was Dawn's type.What were you expecting, she asked herself,someone like Jeff?

Ronnie squirmed under Daddy's watch for half an hour while she dabbed her face with makeup and perfume and then it was off to the party. During the drive she tried talking about the weather, school, etc. but Ronnie had trouble stringing words together. He replied to each attempt at small talk with a dumb grin and anuh-huh.

Dawn shifted in the seat of Ronnie's dilapidated van, mussing her short blue skirt. His eyes bugged at the unintended flash of her bare thigh and they nearly veered off the road. The van skidded to a halt on the gravely shoulder.

Ronnie pieced together an apology then reached into his pocket for a pack of filtered cigarettes. He didn't talk again but at least the dumb grin was gone. She cracked a window and endured the smoke as they rode the rest of the way in silence.

They arrived at the Appleby home, a stately brick structure in the historic part of town. Urban development had resulted in street after street of beautiful late-Victorian homes, all restored to their original splendor. That's why a raucous college party, replete with junky cars parked crookedly on the lawn, seemed so out of place. Loudspeakers and an earth pulsing subwoofer rattled the windows of the van. She couldn't tell if the music was pop, rock or hip hop. From outside it sounded like a succession of tooth-shaking thumps.

Once inside she made a final attempt to converse with Ronnie but her words were swallowed by the noise and rowdy atmosphere. Ronnie's lips actually moved but it was no use. Dawn pointed to her ears and shook her head apologetically.

After five more frustrating minutes Ronnie abandoned her for an easy looking, heavy set girl.Strange, Dawn thought,I'm not my type's type. She snagged a half-cooled beer from a galvanized tub of melted ice and drank it down. Then she had another. Her ears gradually adjusted to the music, a mix of rock and rap, enabling her to talk with the other guests. Too bad she didn't know anyone. The few friends Dawn had made at Choteau were fellow freshmen, and freshmen were a rare commodity at this particular party.

Dawn felt a grumble in her stomach. Earlier she had seen a guy balancing a tower of greasy pizza boxes. She wondered if any slices were left. As she turned for the kitchen a tall, untidy slacker blocked her path. He handed her a red plastic cup filled with a fizzy purple liquid. "Little girls can get into big trouble at these parties," he said. "I'm Jason but I let beautiful women, like you, call me Jase."

Blond hair tumbled carelessly over his forehead. The clothes seemed straight from a garage sale. Nothing matched. His floral camp shirt looked like a melted rainbow; the only color left off the rayon atrocity was the day-glow green of his nylon basketball shorts; his shoes were different brands, different styles and different colors and he only had one ratty sock. Even his eyes were mismatched. The left eye was earthy brown, while the right seemed to glow violet.

Dawn offered her first name only. She figured the cute guy didn't need to know she was a Kramer just yet. She reached to shake. Jase seized her extended hand and planted a swift kiss on the backs of her fingers. His warm saliva made her knuckles tingle.Hot and a gentleman, how lucky can I get?

"I've seen you around campus." She apparently had an admirer. "You read most of the time but I've seen you toss coins in the fountain."

She glowed red. Someone had noticed her childish habit. "I...I make wishes," she admitted.

"I do too." He took her wrist and lifted the red cup towards her mouth. Not knowing any better she took a few robust sips. The liquid tasted like bitter grape Kool-aid. She was no stranger to alcohol but the strong liquor mixed into the purple drink burned it's way down her throat. She coughed, hacking up violet tinted spittle. Jase rubbed her back as the cough subsided. Wiping her mouth, she grinned dumbly.

"You want to make one of my wishes come true?" he asked. When Dawn nodded he handed the cup back. She took a longer swig. The liquid didn't affect her as much the second time. Nothing affected her as much.

The cup flew from her grip. It splattered to the floor. Purple liquor washed across the hardwood, soaking into a jute area rug. Liza wedged herself between Dawn and Jase. The angry cheerleader flapped her arms, squawking like a mother hen. After a moment Liza's words became coherent. "Keep away from her, Jason. Do you have any idea who this kid is?" The confrontation drew the eyes of a few guests sober enough to pay attention. "DawnKramer, as in Jeff Kramer's little sister. Unless you want a football cleat lodged up your rectum, I suggest you take your fucking roofies and leave."