Read Online Kinflicks by Lisa Alther - Free Book Online Page B

written, ‘Death is swallowed up in victory. O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?’”
    In an exhausted voice, Brother Buck invited everyone who intended to lead a new life as a teammate of Christ to come forward. “Do it tonight, brothers and sisters,” he intoned as Joe Bob and I walked automaton-like toward the stage. “Give up your wicked ways and inherit eternity. Shed dishonor and put on glow-ry.” If he had invited us to come sip his bathwater, as medieval messianic figures did, Joe Bob and I would have gone forward as obediently. We joined about two hundred people at the foot of the stage.
    â€œTake the hand of the person on either side of you, brothers and sisters,” he panted, loosening his string tie as though it were a noose. Joe and I obediently clutched hands, and at that point the dove descended. We stood there, Joe Bob and I, our clasped hands sweating and trembling.
    â€œLet us pray,” Brother Buck instructed. “Father, our Coach, hep us, Father, to run Thy plays as Thou wouldst have them run. Knowing, Lord, that Christ Jesus Thy quarterback is there beside us with ever yard we gain, callin’ those plays and runnin’ that interference. Hep us, Lord, to understand that winnin’ ball games depends on followin’ trainin’. Hep us not to abuse our minds and bodies with those worldly temptations that are off-limits to the teammates of Christ…” Joe Bob was stroking my palm with his fingertip. Shivering sensations were running up my arm like an electric current and were grounding out somewhere below the navy stretch straw belt of my Villager shirtwaist.
    â€œâ€¦and hep us, Celestial Coach, to understand that the water boys of life are ever bit as precious in Thy sight as the All-American guards. And when that final gun goes off, Lord, mayst Thou welcome us to the locker room of the home team with a slap on the back and a hearty, ‘Well done, my good and faithful tailback.’”
    â€œA-man,” Brother Buck added as an afterthought. “A-man,” echoed the rest of us.
    â€œAll right, you can drop hands now,” Brother Buck said sotto voce to the group up front. Regretfully, Joe Bob and I peeled apart our sticky palms. “Now what ah hope,” Brother Buck said into the microphone, “is that some of the young people in this group down front here — and any of the rest of you kids in the audience who didn’t bother to come down because you’ve already received the Lord as your Savior — those fine kids, ah hope, will form the nucleus of a Brother Buck Teen Team for Jesus, right here in — ah — Hullsport, Tennessee. There are groups all over the South, and ah think you’ll find that they’re the comin’ thing in our high schools. Soo…that’s all for tonight, friends. And God love you!’ He waved to the audience, who stood up with much rumbling of folding chairs.
    Several dozen of us remained down front — Hullsport’s saving remnant. Most were Joe Bob’s fellow football players and their girl friends. Joe Bob squared his massive shoulders and walked boldly over to Brother Buck, who was squatting on the edge of the stage talking to prospective Teen Team members.
    Joe Bob introduced himself and pointed to me saying, “And this here’s my friend Virginia. I’m — uh — the captain of the Hullsport Pirates.” He looked at the floor with modesty and minced his Juicy Fruit with his front teeth.
    Brother Buck said thoughtfully, “Just a minute now. Joe Bob Sparks, you said? Why, yes, ah do believe ah’ve heard of you, son.” Joe Bob glowed. “You’ve had a good season so far, as I recall.”
    â€œSix and 0,” Joe Bob confirmed.
    By the time I dragged him away, he had signed us both up for the Teen Team for Jesus, Hullsport branch.
    The next night at the Family Drive-In Joe Bob and I