“Isn’t any of what I’ve been sayin’ getting through to you?” Kip asked.

“Not a word.”

“Well, why the hell not? I just don’t get it.”

“Oh, leave the girl alone, Kip,” Bernice said. “Can’t you see she ain’t interested?”

Kip threw his arms up. “All right, you go ahead and be the Woodward and Bernstein of field trips, but I’m telling you, you’re missing the big story.”

“I got an idea,” Bernice said. “How ’bout doing a profile on that quarterback, the Logan boy. You know, a human-interest kind of thing. Been startin’ for us all season, and he’s still pretty much a mystery.”

“Cole Logan?” Savanah shuddered. “What would I call it, ‘The Man Behind the Tattoo’?”

“I think the tattoo is kind of sexy.”

Savannah rolled her eyes. “Which one, the dagger or the grim reaper?”

“Sexy? Christ, Bernice, you’re old enough to be the boy’s grandmother!” Don Paul exclaimed.

“Well, hell, Don Paul, I’m not dead yet. Not blind, either. You take six inches and fifteen pounds off Cole Logan and you got yourself a spittin’ image of Montgomery Clift. I used to carry pictures of Monty Clift around in my bra.”

“Cole Logan is a pig,” Savannah said. “He sits behind me in economics. He looks like a vagrant and smells like Pennzoil.”

“That’s probably from that motorbike he tears around on,” Kip said. “I’ll concede the kid’s a little rough around the edges.”

“White trash is what he is,” said Don Paul.

Kip shrugged. “Okay, so he’s from the wrong side of the tracks, but what chance did he have? His daddy was just plain sorry; up and run off last fall. And his mama’s since become the town whore.”

“Oh, Kip . . .”

“Well, I’m sorry, Bernice, but it’s true. Anyhow, the boy wasn’t exactly dealt a flush hand, was he?”

“But I’ll tell you one thing,” said Don Paul. “He can throw like Elway and scramble like ole what’s-his-name…the little fella out of BC.”

“Flutie.”

“Right, Kip, the kid scrambles just like Doug Flutie. And he’s six-three! Runs the forty in four-point-one. Just imagine what he could do if he cut down to a pack a day. He’s fast, all right.”

“He’s also a mouth breather,” Savannah said.

Kip lit another Winston. “Well, that mouth breather has led our boys to their best record ever. Of course, it didn’t hurt that we finally got us a good coach.”

“I’m not interested in the coach,” Savannah snapped.

“I’m just saying . . .”

“I told you, I’m not interested.”

For a few seconds Hank Williams was the only one in the room saying anything. Bernice popped her Doublemint to break the silence. “I hear he’s a loner,” she said. “Cole Logan, I mean. Usually not a good thing for a quarterback.”

“Not unusual for a criminal, though.”