Page 77 of Make the Play
“Excited?” he asks Arlo.
“I guess.” Arlo tenses. “I don’t dance.”
“To be fair, most of the kids just stand around and stare at each other,” Jason laughs thinking of last year's dance where no one had actually danced for the first hour, all of them too nervous to be the first one. Things had only gotten moving when Jason had gotten Matty and a few of last year's seniors to join him in a very awkward rendition of “Drop It Low.” Once the kids started laughing at Jason’s exaggeratedly bad dance moves, they’d let loose.
With a shrug, Arlo moves forward. He’s quiet, rubbing his hands on his suit jacket which he tugs at. “It’s too big. Used to be my brothers.”
“Jesus or Carlos?”
“Uh, Jesus. But I think it was Alejandro’s before that.”
“Still looks sharp,” Jason tells him, stopping him in place with a hand to the shoulder. Arlo turns on his heels and Jason nods at his tie. “Mind if I fix that for you?”
“I guess.” Arlo stands very still while Jason undoes the knot, carefully retying so it no longer looks like a toddler did it. With his brothers all working long hours and his mom’s arthritic hands, Arlo probably tied it himself, and while there’s no shame in that, Jason suspects he might feel a little more confident with it fixed.
“Did you really bring Mr. Miller?” Arlo asks once Jason has finished.
“We came together,” Jason answers vaguely, aware it's kind of an evasive answer but equally aware of his position. His personal life isn’t technically the students’ business, but as their teacher and coach he spends more time with some of these kids than their own parents. He understands their curiosity, and with some of them—perhaps Arlo if Jason’s suspicions are correct—he understands it might be more. There are other queer teachers on campus, but none of them are dating, and none of them are Arlo’s football coach or favorite teacher.
Given the recent fiasco with Mr. Caldwell, it might be safer to lie, but Jason won’t do that. Not only because Emerson deserves more but because Jason does too. He’s only just now realizing who he is and while he might not be ready to take out an advert in the local paper to announce it, he doesn’t want to hide either.
“He’s not like other teachers,” Arlo says, fidgeting with the end of the tie which he’s untucked from his suit jacket.
“No, he’s not,” Jason agrees.
“I like him,” Arlo says, the weight of what that means not lost on Jason. This is a kid who rarely likes anyone, who wants nothing more than to stand out, while also trying to hide in the shadows.
It occurs to Jason that liking Emerson, dating him, could be a lot bigger than merely admitting he isn’t straight. He’s not sure what it will mean, but looking at one of his kids watching him, waiting to see if Jason is brave enough to be himself so maybe one day he can be too, he knows he’s willing to find out.
“I like him too, Arlo.”
The exhale he lets out is so deep Jason feels it in his bones. He doesn’t say anything else, but he doesn’t need to. Sometimes words aren’t fucking enough for the big feelings that get trapped inside.
“Listo para la fiesta?” Jason asks, switching to Spanish. He wishes his fluency was as good as Alec’s but hisabuelahad been adamant her only son and grandkids not speak Spanish after the struggles she had immigrating. She was desperate for her family to adapt and acclimate to America, and in the process, they’d missed out on the richness of her culture. Growing up, he never heard Spanish spoken at home and rarely ever heard hisabuelaspeak it. It wasn’t until Alec was in middle school and her health declined that she allowed the comfort of her native tongue to come out and by then Jason had already moved away for college. By the time he moved back home hisabuelahad died and he’d lost his chance to learn it from her.
He’s been practicing on his own though, eager to find a part of something he never had and to connect with those of his students whose primary language at home isn’t English.
“No sé,” Arlo answers. “¿Crees que Matty va a bailar?”
“Probablemente.” Jason offers what he hopes is an encouraging smile, pretty sure he knows where this line of questioning is going. “Podrías preguntarle.”
Arlo stops dead in his tracks, and for a moment, Jason worries he’s misread the situation.
“Solo si quieres,” Jason adds.
“Yo no bailo,” Arlo replies, before switching to English with a heavy sigh. “Also it’s going to be full of people. I don’t think I like people, Coach.”
Arlo looks a little like he might be sick, like he did before their first game when he puked in the trash can from nerves.
“There will indeed be a shit ton of people, but if you get overwhelmed just find Mr. Miller, alright?” Jason gives Arlo’s shoulder a squeeze as they stop in front of the gym, blaring music and flashing strobe lights filtering through the open door. “You got this.”
Arlo nods, sparing one final look at Jason before heading off towards the rest of his team who, much to Jason’s delight, have congregated outside the doors apparently waiting for Arlo. When Matty tugs him into the crowd, his frown briefly slips, an almost bashful smile on his face as he stares at Matty. It makes Jason want to find Emerson, so he wastes no time, making sure to touch base with Amy, one of the other teachers on check-in duty, before making his way into the gym.
Though it’s nearly empty inside with most of the students either out on the lawn waiting to come in or still on their way—the gym is a sight to behold. Between the various teacher and student volunteers, the gym looks like a party store threw up. Streamers hang from all the doorways, clusters of balloons strung up in some kind of fancy balloon arch for a backdrop beneath the basketball hoop, all thanks to their art teacher Trey, and the refreshment tables that line the far wall are covered in various snacks and drinks donated from parents or bought from student funds.
All in all, the gym is barely recognizable from what Jason is used to, and it sets the tone for the night. He waves to various students and teachers in search of Emerson, but he’s nowhere to be found. Eventually, he makes his way around the edge of the gym towards the photo booth, hoping Mabel has seen him.
“There’s the best dressed woman at Homecoming,” Jason grins.
