All It's Missing is a Bunch of Kids Yelling 'Fight! Fight!'

As the football players were showing off by wearing their jerseys, they were easy for Scott to identify. Scott knew something about their team so he had no real problem walking directly up to Bob. Scott nudged him in that age old 'we are going to fight' maneuver. “Think you're funny, huh?”

Bob did not care for this at all. He and his friends rose to answer Scott's shove with the intense 'you had better not start something' look. “What's you're problem? Who're you?”

“I'm the guy that's here to tell you that you ain't so funny,” Scott said helpfully.

One of Bob's teammates nudged him, pointing out my returned presence. Bob suddenly grinned. “Oh, so you're friends with Kitty Frou Frou?” He laughed. “In that case, I'm hilarious dude.”

“That's what I told my buddy. Last week. Watching you play. Said you were a joke.”

Bob's grin disappeared immediately. A stream of serious vulgarities spewed from him, generally forming the question “What do you know?” Bob's friends restrained him, apparently deciding that an actual fight was probably and in no one's best interests. One football player worked to be Scott's pacifier. As Scott hadn't made a move towards Bob, he didn't need to be restrained yet. This teammate tried to talk Scott out of further antagonizing of Bob. Scott just glared at Bob.

I was uncomfortable through all this, only in part due to my unusual attire. There's something about me that seems to engage the 'big fella protector mode' in my friends. Looking back, I've usually had a buddy that was taller and more muscular and willing to make sure I wasn't taken advantage of by jerks. A few went so far as to tell me up front that, if I needed anybody beat up, to let them know. I'd never taken anyone up on that polite effort. While I appreciated Scott's effort in my behalf and the intent behind what he was doing, but the situation still felt weird. I felt I had no way to talk him out of this.

“Scott!” Angela's voice cut through the rapidly forming crowd before she could physically join us. When she appeared, she was followed by a puzzled Abigail and a concerned Heather, who had my clothes. “Are you okay?” she asked as she handed them over.

“I'm fine,” I insisted. At the moment I was more concerned with the contents of my pockets. I knew I was okay.

Abigail smiled at me suddenly. “I think you look cute.”

What do you say to that? “Thanks.”

The real show was still between Angela and Scott. All six foot whatever of Scott was glaring at Angela and all five foot four of Angela was firing right back at him. “I thought we discussed this,” she noted coldly.

“Not really,” Scott snapped.  “You said stuff. You got no hold on me. I don't need your permission to beat him like a drum.”

“There's no...”

Scott quickly cut her off. “I'm tired of guys like him thinking he can do whatever he wants just because he made a team. He's a third rate fullback that's starting because he's a upperclassman and Jenkins' got hurt!”

Words can hurt more than fists. Once again insulted, Bob lunged forward as he screamed a response. His buddies managed to stop him. The Pacifier Jock (I wish I could remember his name) gave Scott a Very Serious Look. “Dude, you guys gotta go. We can't have this. You don't want this. Just go man.”

I summoned up my courage and walked into the lions den. Tugging at Scott's sleeve to get his attention, I agreed with this concept. “Dude, let's just go. I have all my stuff and I've got too many people enjoying this outfit as they come to see what's going on and I'm not impressing anybody in this thing. Let's just get outta here.”

Scott's expression remained stern. He looked from me to Angela to Pacifier Jock to me again. While clearly still upset, Scott's anger had started to fade, the intensity beginning to drain from him. After a quiet moment or two, he nodded sharply. “Yeah, okay.” He nodded to Pacifier Jock, turned, and we all walked away.