a is for aggies, attitudes and family affairs

“Zoe!”

Reese glanced at his mother, then at the foyer, toward the stairwell, then back at his mother. “So, we’re going to make it in time for Step-Off, right?” This was the beginning of the university’s Corps of Cadets march to the stadium, and it would start two hours before the kickoff at what was called The Quad, a small plot of land situated between four dormitories.

It was his father’s favorite part of game day.

That and winning, of course. He was fond of that, too.

Getting there in time for Step-Off, as far as his father was concerned, meant they had to be there three hours before the game began. And it took them about ninety minutes to get to College Station.

So the family was to be ready to leave by two-thirty p.m.

It was ten minutes until three.

Two of the McAllisters were in the kitchen, preparing snacks for the road. One was outside, making sure the car would accommodate the seven of them. Two were seated in the den, waiting.

Mrs. McAllister cleared her throat. “I suppose they’ll be down in a moment or two.” She eyed the ceiling, knowing the room where her youngest girls were was directly above. “A minute would be better. I’m sure your father’s gotten quite agitated.” She rose, moved to the foot of the stairs. “Girls,” she called. “We wanted to be on the road twenty minutes ago.”

“Mom! I can’t find my—”

“It’s not like he’s not seen the blasted March-In a thousand times before.”

“Sarah Colleen McAllister!”

“Well! He has!”

“This will be the last March-In for a Thanksgiving Day game against the longhorns. The traffic will be horrid. You will come down now. You will not grumble about your father’s wishes.” She turned, muttered, “You will be agreeable. Please, God,” then made her way back to the den.

Just as she had gotten herself situated on the sofa, Sarah sauntered into the room, crossed over to the fireplace and sat on the floor before it. She was so far and would be the only one not wearing the Aggies’ colors of maroon and white. She sniffed, glowered at the rug.

Her mother stared at her. “So. You’re looking to make friends today, then, eh?”

She had twisted her heavy, black hair up with a thin white scarf that had brilliant splotches of crimson here and there. She wore a vee-necked, long-sleeved tee-shirt in that same shade of red that had, in bold, white script, “Oklahoma” spread across the breast, and an even bolder, block-lettered “OU” lower and to the left. With this she wore dark denim Capri jeans rolled up in chunky cuffs and red sandals. But the thing that brought the greatest bit of dismay to her mother’s expression was the red and white, intertwined “OU” her daughter had painted on both cheeks.

Sarah was just about to reply when Zoe, who’d come downstairs in a huff, ambled in. She didn’t sit, but leaned instead against the wall opposite Sarah, scowling at her. “I’m not sitting next to her.”

“Why? Because I chose to attend a university that actually has a football team?”

Zoe glared at her, then turned her attention to her mother. “I’m. Not. Sitting. Next. To. Her.”

“No one is saying you have to.” She paused, then added, “Yet. If you don’t lose the attitude by the time we get to the stadium, you will sit next to Sarah, and you will do it without complaint.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“And, you, Sarah, you’re to sit at the end of our group, furthest from the fifty, next to Reese.”

“Fine. Whatever.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Not a word from you, Mister. I count on you to be cooperative.”

“And I am. Most of the time.” He looked over at his youngest sister. “Nice, Zo. I like what you’ve done with that skirt.”

“It’s a jumper,” she corrected. Built like a pair of overalls at the top and a mini-skirt at the bottom, she’d painted, all in white, an A&M logo with the words “The Good” below it. Then came a smaller OU logo with the words “The Bad” below that. And, smaller still, a longhorn, followed by “The Ugly.” She’d paired with this a maroon twelfth man jersey, maroon tights and maroon Vans. She’d changed her hair. While she kept it tied the usual way, parted down the middle and bunched at each side, the streaks that were normally blue and green were now maroon, and she had used maroon and white ribbons instead of black. She grinned at Reese. “Thanks.” Scanned the room. “So. We’re not waiting on me?”

“Your father’s doing his last-minute check around the house and whatnot. Tori and Paige are in the kitchen putting together snack sacks. If you want one, you’d better speak up.”

“I want!” She made a mad dash around the sofa and disappeared into the kitchen. “Wait! I want!”

read about the gang here.

(c) twenty-eleven. jennifer k. griffin, otherwise known as c.c. this publication is the exclusive property of c.c. and is protected under the united states copyright act of nineteen seventy-six and all other applicable international, federal, state and local laws. the contents of this post, and any other c.c.-crafted picky post for that matter, may not be reproduced as a whole or in part, by any means whatsoever, without c.c.'s consent. all rights reserved. in other words, steal this, and i will follow you to the depths of hell and the edge of forever and kick your puny, thieving ass. thanks. :]

this was a matlock project. learn about that here.