Page 30 of Kiss the Girl
I tried not to show my immense relief. I had to play it as if we’d negotiated as men. “That’s settled. Now we have to think of a theme.”
Everything went promptly off the rails again. Zero surprise with a bunch of teenage boys. They shouted out suggestions from violent video games, rap videos even I wasn’t old enough to watch, NFL teams they couldn’t agree on, and memes no one over the age of eighteen would understand.
Cat in the Hatwasn’t going to go over great, but I tried anyway after giving them a minute to holler out a dozen less appropriate options. “It needs to go with cider donuts, so something O-shaped, like the word ‘oh.’”
“Cider donuts? We’re selling cider donuts?” the kicker asked.
“You don’t like cider donuts?” I asked.
“They’re fine,” another player said. “But if we did Doom Eternal, we could sell plastic doom blades.”
“Buddy, think about that for a second. What little kid’s mom is going to let them buy that? And if they did, can you imagine them running around and causing mayhem all night?”
“Yeah,” the kicker said. “I can. That’s why it would be awesome.”
That got a bunch of agreement. I was back to negotiating with boys. “Let’s think strategically,” I said. “Practice some of those economics like DeShawn was talking about. We need to do apple cider donuts because that’s what people expect from a booth at Lincoln High, and we don’t want to mess with tradition, or we risk cutting into our profits. So how do we make apple cider donuts cool?”
Several of them exchanged glances.
“That’s not a thing, coach,” Grant said.
“That’s the challenge. We figure out how to make it a thing. If you guys get on board, the customers will get on board. Someone who thinks they don’t even want one apple cider donut will suddenly buy a dozen if you sell them right.”
Doubtful looks.
“Think of the uniforms,” I said. “Every donut you sell, that’s money saved next season.”
More doubtful looks.
“Think about it over the next week, guys. We’ll make a decision and get some ideas going.” LikeCat in the Hat. But it was dead in the water if I brought it up now. “Try to focus on what little kids would love. You know football players are heroes to them, so think about what would make them beg their parents to come to our booth. That’s it for today, boys. Dismissed.”
They headed for their lockers with a clatter of cleats, and I headed into my office, drawing the blinds before I collapsed into my chair and let out a deep breath. Whew. I had almost lost them, but so far, my plan to impress Dr. Boone was still in effect.
I made sure Saturday mornings were okay with Grace. When she agreed to it, I spent the rest of the week figuring out how to make the team thinkThe Cat in the Hatwas their own idea. And also resisting the urge to text her every day with made up reasons to talk to her.
“So what are your theme suggestions?” I asked the team as they piled into the locker room at the end of practice. “What would little kids go for?”
“Star Wars?” said one player.
“Star Wars is corny,” objected another one.
“I hear what you’re saying, but what if it’s not corny enough?” I asked.
“What does that mean?” Grant asked. “How can it not be corny enough?”
“I mean that sometimes if you try to do something too cool, it falls flat, but if you take something really dorky, you can make it cool just because you’re football players.”
This argument made perfect sense to them. They saw it happen every time they did the dance routine the cheer squad choreographed for them at the homecoming pep rally.
“You got any ideas, coach?” DeShawn asked.
This was the part I’d have to navigate like that giant ship in the Suez Canal—no margin for error. I’d placed my props carefully. “Let’s see, something nerdy you can make cool.” I rubbed my chin and began to pace in front of the bench where I’d set my messenger bag. “Let’s brainstorm. What about Snoopy and Charlie Brown?” I asked.
“The elementary school does that every year.”
“Oh, right. Woody Woodpecker?”
“Who?”
