Chronicle 7
“The Big Man On Campus: Homecoming”
Paul Ritter waited until he was certain his wife wasn't
around.
Then he pulled the magazines out from beneath his jacket.
He stared at them.
This was ridiculous.
He was a grown man.
He was hiding magazines in his own house.
Magazines that weren't even his.
Ritter opened a cabinet.
No.
Too obvious.
He looked around.
He opened another.
Still too obvious.
Finally, he shoved them behind a stack of old football
programs.
He stood back.
Good enough.
His wife would probably find them eventually.
She found everything eventually.
He'd deal with that when it happened.
Ritter went to the refrigerator.
He opened it.
Grabbed a beer.
Opened it.
He took several long drinks.
The bottle was empty before he had even left the kitchen.
Ritter looked at it.
“Okay.”
He put it down.
Grabbed another.
Opened it.
That one didn't last much longer.
Ritter stared at the second empty bottle.
He considered getting a third.
He got a third.
He opened it.
Then stopped himself before taking another enormous drink.
“At this rate, I'm not even gonna enjoy the d*** things.”
He took a much smaller sip.
Better.
Ritter carried the beer into the living room.
The film projector was already waiting.
So was the reel.
Crestview.
Christ the Savior.
Ritter sat down.
He threaded the film into the projector.
Turned off the lights.
Turned on the projector.
The machine began clicking.
The wall came alive.
There was the field.
High above it.
The teams assembling.
Ritter leaned forward.
He had watched the game once from the sideline.
Now he was going to watch it again.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Painfully.
He wanted to see what he had missed.
Assignments.
Blocking.
Coverage.
Jensen.
Thomas.
Dampier.
Everything.
Ritter took another sip of beer.
The telephone rang.
Ritter closed his eyes.
It rang again.
He looked at the projector.
Then towards the telephone.
It rang again.
“Of course.”
He stopped the projector.
Turned on the light.
Walked over.
Picked up the telephone.
“Hello?”
“Paul?”
Ritter recognized the voice.
“John.”
“Sorry. Is it late?”
Ritter looked at his beer.
“Not anymore.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
John Davis paused.
“How's Tommy?”
“No fracture.”
“Oh, thank goodness.”
“Bad sprain.”
“How bad?”
“They'll look at him again in four weeks.”
“So he's out?”
“For now.”
Ritter took another sip.
“He thinks he's playing in four weeks.”
Davis laughed softly.
“Is he?”
“No idea.”
Ritter looked towards the frozen image on the wall.
“I was about to watch the film.”
“That is actually why I'm calling.”
Ritter frowned.
“What?”
“You have the game recorded?”
“Yeah.”
“The whole game?”
Ritter looked at the projector.
“The plays.”
There was a pause.
“What does that mean?”
“It means the plays.”
“Did you get the fight?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
“Pretty sure.”
Davis sighed.
Ritter sat down.
“We don't just run the camera continuously.”
“I thought you filmed the game.”
“We do.”
“Then why wouldn't you have the fight?”
“Because the game was over.”
Ritter took another sip.
“We're trying to save film, John. Camera starts before the
play. Camera stops after the play. Then it starts again for the next one.”
“So after Dampier's interception…”
“Game's over.”
“...and whoever was filming stopped.”
“Almost certainly.”
Davis sighed again.
“I was really hoping you had it.”
“Sorry.”
“I thought maybe I could watch it.”
“For what?”
“The players.”
Ritter leaned back.
“What about them?”
“I need to figure out who was in that brawl.”
“Oh.”
Davis sounded tired.
“I saw some of it.”
“So did I.”
“You had a better view.”
“Not much better.”
“I was in the stands.”
Ritter nodded even though Davis couldn't see him.
“I've got the program here.”
Ritter heard paper moving over the telephone.
“All the numbers are in it.”
“That helps.”
“Only if I know which numbers I saw.”
Ritter smiled faintly.
“That would help more.”
“I remember a few.”
Davis began flipping pages.
“I know some of the players who were involved. I know some
of the numbers I saw...but once everybody started moving around…”
“Yeah.”
“I couldn't tell.”
Ritter looked at the wall again.
He could picture it.
Players running.
Players shouting.
Crestview blue mixing with Christ the Savior colours.
Coaches trying to pull them apart.
People coming from different directions.
Davis continued.
“I can't suspend a kid because I think I might have seen his
number.”
“No.”
“So I was hoping the film would give me something better.”
“It won't.”
Another silence.
“Darn.”
Ritter took a drink.
“What do you need from me?”
“Help.”
“With what?”
“Figuring out who was actually involved.”
Ritter thought.
“I can tell you who wasn't.”
Davis stopped.
“How many?”
“Not many.”
“How many?”
Ritter thought again.
“Eight.”
“Eight?”
“Eight I'm certain about.”
“Out of how many?”
“Forty.”
Davis was silent.
Ritter smiled grimly.
“Yeah.”
“So thirty-two.”
“Thirty-two.”
Davis sighed.
Ritter could hear him writing.
“Tommy's one of the eight?”
“Yes.”
“He was already down.”
“Very down.”
“Who else?”
Ritter began listing names.
Davis wrote them down.
When Ritter finished, Davis repeated them.
“Those eight definitely weren't involved?”
“As definite as I can be.”
“...and everybody else?”
“I didn't say they were involved.”
“I know.”
“Some of them definitely weren't. I just can't prove it from
where I was.”
Davis sighed.
“So thirty-two unaccounted for.”
“Right.”
“I have to interview thirty-two football players.”
“Looks that way.”
“All on Monday.”
“Looks that way.”
Davis was silent.
Ritter waited.
“This is going to take all day.”
“Probably.”
“Maybe two.”
“Maybe.”
Davis groaned.
“I have other things to do, Paul.”
“So do I.”
“I run a school.”
“I coach a football team.”
“Exactly.”
Ritter smiled.
“I can help.”
Davis stopped.
“You can?”
“Yeah.”
“How?”
“I'll talk to them too.”
“You don't have to.”
“I know.”
Ritter looked towards the projector.
“I'll get Calder involved. The other coaches too.”
Davis thought.
“That would speed things up.”
“That's the idea.”
“We need to keep the stories separate.”
“Obviously.”
“If they all sit together before we talk to them-”
“They'll decide nobody saw anything.”
“Exactly.”
Ritter took another drink.
“So don't put them together.”
“What?”
“Call them in one at a time.”
“Where do I put the others?”
Ritter thought.
“Different rooms.”
“I don't have thirty-two rooms.”
“You don't need thirty-two rooms.”
“I know that.”
“Split them up. Keep them away from each other as much as we
can. Interview them individually.”
Davis sighed.
“This is going to be a mess.”
“Yep.”
“What do I tell their teachers?”
Ritter shrugged.
“The truth.”
“That thirty-two members of the football team aren't coming
to class because I need to determine whether they participated in a brawl?”
“Pretty much.”
Davis went quiet.
Ritter could almost hear him imagining Monday morning.
Thirty-two boys arriving at Crestview.
Thirty-two boys being told not to report to class.
Thirty-two boys waiting to find out whether they were
witnesses, suspects, or simply unlucky enough that nobody could account for
them yet.
“How many do you think were actually involved?” Davis asked.
Ritter thought back to the field.
“Depends what you mean by involved.”
“Throwing punches.”
“Half dozen?”
“Only?”
“Maybe.”
“Shoving?”
“More.”
“Tackling?”
“More.”
“Running into it?”
“More.”
Davis sighed.
“So maybe a dozen.”
“Could be.”
“Could be more?”
“Could be.”
Ritter finished another sip.
“Some kids probably ran over because everybody else was
running over.”
“That doesn't make them part of the fight.”
“No.”
“Some probably tried to break it up.”
“Yep.”
“Some probably made it worse while claiming they were
breaking it up.”
“Almost certainly.”
Davis groaned.
Ritter smiled.
“You wanted to be principal.”
“Shut up.”
Ritter laughed.
Davis shuffled more papers.
“The ones who were actually fighting are going to face
significant discipline.”
“I figured.”
“School discipline.”
“Yeah.”
“...and I assume you're not letting them play.”
“No.”
“How long?”
“Depends what they did.”
Davis paused.
“You're not just suspending everybody?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“If a kid threw punches, that's different from a kid who
shoved somebody away from his teammate.”
“Agreed.”
“...and that's different from somebody who ran over, saw
what was happening and backed off.”
“Agreed.”
Ritter leaned back.
“We figure out what everybody did first.”
“Then we decide.”
“Exactly.”
Davis was quiet again.
“Monday morning, then.”
“Monday morning.”
“Thirty-two players.”
“Yep.”
“They come to school.”
“Yep.”
“They don't go to class.”
“Not until we've talked to them.”
“...and then?”
Ritter looked at the frozen football game on his wall.
“Then some of them go back.”
“...and the others?”
Ritter took another drink.
“That depends what they tell us.”
Davis sighed.
“All right.”
“I'll call Calder.”
“Thanks, Paul.”
“John?”
“Yeah?”
“Get some sleep.”
Davis laughed.
“You first.”
The line went dead.
Ritter hung up.
He looked at the telephone.
Then at the projector.
Then at his beer.
He returned to his chair.
Sat down.
Turned off the light.
Started the projector again.
The film clicked.
The players moved.
Ritter took another drink.
Slower this time.
He watched the first play.
Then the second.
Then the third.
Monday could wait.
For now, Paul Ritter had forty football players on a wall.
Eight of them already knew they were going to class.
Thirty-two of them didn't.
Thomas Rydell had discovered something about crutches.
They were annoying.
Very annoying.
Especially when carrying lunch.
He stood several feet away from the table.
His tray was balanced precariously in one hand.
One crutch was jammed beneath the other arm.
The second crutch was somehow becoming involved with
everything.
Chloe watched him.
“Do you need help?”
“No.”
Thomas moved approximately one foot.
The tray tilted.
Thomas stopped.
Chloe stood.
“I can carry it.”
“I got it.”
“You don't got it.”
“I do.”
Thomas moved another foot.
The tray tilted the other way.
Keisha watched.
“Old man needs help.”
Thomas glared at her.
“I'm not an old man.”
“You walk like one.”
“I have crutches.”
“Exactly.”
Thomas finally reached the table.
He put his tray down.
Victory.
Then he had to figure out where to put the crutches.
Keisha smiled.
“Need help, Grandpa?”
“No.”
Chloe took one of the crutches from him.
“Thank you.”
Keisha laughed.
Thomas lowered himself carefully into his chair.
He looked around the table.
Then around the cafeteria.
Then back at the table.
Something was wrong.
It took him a moment to figure out what.
There weren't enough people.
Usually their table had people squeezed around it.
Football players.
Cheerleaders.
Friends.
Friends of friends.
People Thomas knew.
People Thomas barely knew.
People who apparently knew Thomas even when Thomas couldn't
remember meeting them.
Today there were empty chairs.
Several.
Thomas looked around the cafeteria again.
There were plenty of students.
Just not nearly as many of the people who usually sat with
them.
Thomas frowned.
“What happened?”
Chloe sat beside him.
“What?”
“Where is everybody?”
Keisha looked around.
“Gone.”
“I can see that.”
Thomas looked at Chloe.
“Am I not popular anymore?”
Chloe laughed.
Thomas smiled.
He had meant it as a joke.
Mostly.
A small part of him didn't find it funny at all.
Three days ago, everybody seemed to want to talk to him.
Everybody knew his name.
Everybody wanted to hear about football.
Everybody wanted to tell him how great he was going to be.
Now half the table was empty.
Maybe losing did that.
Maybe throwing the interception did that.
Maybe being the big man on campus lasted until the campus
found somebody bigger.
Chloe bumped her shoulder against his.
“Davis has half the football team locked up somewhere.”
Thomas blinked.
“What?”
“Not literally.”
“Oh.”
“They're doing interviews.”
Thomas remembered.
“The fight.”
“Yeah.”
Chloe took a fry from his tray.
Thomas looked at her.
She ate it.
“Almost everybody on the team has to be interviewed.”
“Thirty-two,” said Keisha.
Thomas stared at her.
“Thirty-two?”
“That's what Jensen said.”
Thomas looked around again.
“That explains a lot.”
“Plus student staff,” said Chloe, “and regular staff.”
“Why?”
“They're witnesses.”
“Oh.”
“They're trying to figure out exactly who did what.”
Thomas looked towards the empty chair where Joey normally
sat.
“Where's Joey?”
“Interview.”
“She's in trouble?”
“No.”
“She better not be.”
“She was a cheerleader standing beside the field. They want
to know what she saw.”
Thomas nodded.
“Did they talk to you?”
“This morning.”
“What did you tell them?”
“The truth.”
Thomas smiled.
“Boring.”
Chloe stole another fry.
Thomas moved his tray away.
“Hey.”
“You're injured.”
“That doesn't make my fries communal.”
“It does today.”
Thomas looked at Keisha.
“Have they interviewed you?”
“Not yet.”
“What about me?”
Chloe stared at him.
Thomas waited.
She looked down.
Thomas followed her eyes.
His injured ankle was supported in front of him.
Then he looked at the crutches leaning against the table.
“Oh.”
Chloe smiled.
“I think they know where you were during the fight.”
“Right.”
Thomas looked around again.
“Still seems like we're missing more people than that.”
“We are.”
Keisha picked at her lunch.
“Some of the guys are embarrassed.”
“About the fight?”
“The game.”
Thomas frowned.
“We lost.”
“Exactly.”
“So?”
Keisha shrugged.
Thomas scanned the cafeteria.
Then he saw someone sitting well away from them.
Terry Rasmussen.
Alone.
Thomas frowned.
“Terry!”
Terry looked over.
Thomas waved.
Terry looked behind himself.
Thomas laughed.
“Yes, you!”
Terry pointed at himself.
“Yes!”
Terry hesitated.
Then picked up his tray.
He slowly walked over.
Thomas looked at the empty chair.
“Sit.”
Terry sat.
He looked uncomfortable.
Thomas noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You're sitting by yourself.”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
Terry shrugged.
Thomas stared at him.
Terry stared at his lunch.
Finally he sighed.
“I thought maybe you wouldn't want me over here.”
Thomas blinked.
“Why?”
Terry looked at him.
“Because of the game.”
“What about it?”
“We lost.”
“I noticed.”
“To Christ.”
Thomas waited.
Terry leaned closer.
“We lost to Christ.”
Thomas scoffed.
“So?”
Terry stared at him.
“So?”
“It's a football game.”
Keisha looked at Thomas.
Terry looked almost offended.
“Tommy.”
“What?”
“Christ the Savior.”
“I know who we played.”
“They beat us.”
“Yes.”
“At home.”
“Yes.”
“On the first game.”
“Yes.”
“Thirty-four to twenty-eight.”
“Yes.”
Terry frowned.
“You're really not embarrassed?”
“No.”
Terry stared at him.
Thomas shrugged.
“We have all season to make it up.”
“...but-”
“We're not gonna win every game.”
Terry looked at him.
“Jim McMahon did.”
Thomas rolled his eyes.
“What?”
“He never lost when he played here.”
“That was a different team.”
“He still never lost.”
“Good for him.”
Terry stared.
Thomas picked up his hamburger.
“I'm not Jim McMahon.”
Chloe smiled slightly.
Thomas noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
He looked back at Terry.
“Besides, Christ has Cody.”
Terry frowned.
“Dampier?”
“Yeah.”
“He's one guy.”
“He's a really good guy.”
Keisha looked at Thomas.
“A really good guy?”
“Player.”
“Oh.”
Thomas took a bite.
“He knew what I was doing.”
Terry nodded.
“Yeah.”
“He got me.”
Thomas shrugged.
“Next time I gotta get him.”
Terry still didn't look convinced.
Thomas put his hamburger down.
“Look.”
Terry looked at him.
“You're my teammate.”
“Yeah.”
“That means we all live and die together.”
Chloe looked at him.
Thomas continued.
“If we win, we win.”
He pointed at himself.
“If I throw five touchdowns, we win.”
Then towards Terry.
“If you catch five touchdowns, we win.”
Then he shrugged.
“If I throw an interception and we lose…”
He paused.
“…we lose.”
Terry nodded slowly.
“Together.”
“Together.”
Thomas smiled.
“So stop sitting by yourself like you murdered somebody.”
Terry laughed.
“I didn't.”
“Good.”
Thomas pointed towards the empty chair.
“Then you're sitting here.”
Terry finally smiled.
“Okay.”
Thomas picked up his hamburger again.
Keisha looked at him.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You're looking at me.”
“Just didn't know the old man had speeches.”
Thomas threw a fry at her.
Keisha ducked.
The fry landed on the floor.
Chloe stared at Thomas.
“What?”
“Pick it up.”
“I can't.”
“You can.”
“I have a bad ankle.”
“You have arms.”
Thomas sighed.
Before he could attempt the complicated process of
retrieving a single fry while using crutches, Joey appeared.
She dropped into the empty chair beside Keisha.
“I'm alive.”
Keisha looked at her.
“How was it?”
Joey stared straight ahead.
“Terrifying.”
Thomas stopped.
“What?”
Joey looked at him.
“Christ's principal interviewed me.”
Thomas frowned.
“Why?”
“She was there.”
“Who?”
“Sister Hazel.”
Thomas stared.
“Sister?”
“Yeah.”
Joey leaned closer.
“She grilled me.”
“How bad?”
“She asked everything.”
“Everything?”
“Everything I saw.”
Thomas stopped eating.
Joey continued.
“Who ran where.”
Thomas put down his hamburger.
“Who hit who.”
Thomas swallowed.
“Who was yelling.”
Thomas looked at Chloe.
“Who tried to stop it.”
Thomas' eyes widened.
“Who joined in.”
“Okay.”
“Who was already on the ground.”
Thomas looked down at his ankle.
Joey smiled slightly.
“Don't worry. I told her you were busy.”
Thomas didn't smile.
“What was she like?”
Joey thought.
“Principal.”
“That doesn't answer anything.”
“Scary principal.”
Thomas stared.
“Really scary?”
“She wears the Sister thing.”
Thomas' eyes widened slightly more.
Chloe laughed.
“What?”
“You.”
“What about me?”
“You look terrified.”
“I'm not terrified.”
Joey leaned towards him.
“She knows your name.”
Thomas froze.
“What?”
Joey smiled.
“She asked about you.”
“What did she ask?”
“Things.”
“What things?”
“Tommy.”
“What things?”
Chloe reached over.
She put both hands around his face.
Thomas stopped.
She kissed him.
Terry looked away.
Keisha smiled.
Joey rolled her eyes.
Chloe kept kissing him.
Then she pulled back.
Thomas stared at her.
“You're going to be fine.”
“...but-”
“You didn't fight.”
“I know.”
“You were lying on the ground.”
“I know.”
“You have crutches.”
Thomas looked at them.
Chloe smiled.
“You're going to be fine.”
Thomas nodded.
“Okay.”
Chloe kissed him again.
Thomas relaxed.
Joey watched them.
“Can I finish telling you about the terrifying Sister now?”
Thomas' eyes widened again.
Chloe immediately grabbed his face.
“No.”
She kissed him again.
Thomas sat outside the office.
He had been sitting there for seven minutes.
It felt like an hour.
His crutches rested beside him.
His ankle was propped awkwardly in front of him.
Every few seconds, somebody entered an office.
Every few seconds, somebody else came out.
Some looked relieved.
Some looked terrified.
One football player walked past Thomas without saying
anything.
Thomas watched him go.
This was stupid.
He hadn't done anything.
He had spent most of the fight lying on the ground with a
nurse looking at his ankle.
There was absolutely no reason to be nervous.
The door opened.
“Thomas Rydell?”
Thomas looked up.
Sister Hazel stood in the doorway.
He immediately became nervous.
She was not a nun.
Thomas knew that.
Everybody knew that.
...but there was something about being called Sister Hazel
that made her seem considerably more frightening than Principal Hazel would
have.
She was dressed conservatively.
Very conservatively.
Everything about her looked neat.
Orderly.
Serious.
Her expression matched.
Thomas stood.
Or tried to.
He grabbed his crutches.
One slipped.
He caught it.
Sister Hazel watched.
Thomas finally got himself upright.
“Come in.”
“Okay.”
Thomas followed her.
Slowly.
Very slowly.
Sister Hazel sat behind the desk.
Thomas maneuvered himself into the chair across from her.
Getting into it took considerably longer than he wanted.
Finally, he sat.
Sister Hazel had papers in front of her.
A notepad.
Several names.
Several numbers.
Thomas looked at all of it.
Then at her.
She looked tired.
Thomas didn't notice that.
He noticed mean.
Mean old lady.
She wasn't particularly old.
Thomas didn't notice that either.
Sister Hazel picked up her pen.
“Thomas Rydell.”
“Yes.”
“Freshman.”
“Yes.”
“Quarterback.”
“Yes.”
“Number eight.”
“Yes.”
She looked at him.
Thomas smiled nervously.
Sister Hazel did not.
Thomas looked around the room.
“Where's the rack?”
Sister Hazel stared at him.
Thomas smiled.
Nothing.
“We're not Medieval barbarians, Mr. Rydell.”
“Okay.”
“Take this seriously.”
Thomas' smile disappeared.
“Yes, ma'am.”
Sister Hazel looked down at her papers.
“Your ankle.”
Thomas looked at it.
“What about it?”
“Is it fractured?”
“No.”
She wrote something down.
Thomas frowned.
“Does it matter?”
Sister Hazel looked up.
“I will ask the questions.”
Thomas immediately sat straighter.
“Yes, ma'am.”
Sister Hazel returned to her notes.
“Tell me what happened to your ankle.”
Thomas hesitated.
“Starting when?”
“Start with what happened after the game ended.”
Thomas nodded.
“Okay.”
He thought back.
“The game was over.”
“Yes.”
“I was talking to Cody.”
Sister Hazel looked at him.
“Cody?”
“Dampier.”
“Mr. Dampier.”
“Yeah.”
Sister Hazel looked at him.
“Yes.”
Thomas corrected himself.
“Yes.”
She waited.
Thomas continued.
“We were talking about the game. Then he was leaving and I
saw Xavier talking to Chloe.”
“Xavier Dickinson?”
“Yes.”
“Chloe Summers?”
“Yes.”
Sister Hazel wrote something down.
“What did you see?”
“Chloe looked uncomfortable.”
“How?”
Thomas thought.
“She wanted him to leave her alone.”
“Did she say that?”
“I don't know.”
Sister Hazel looked at him.
Thomas quickly continued.
“I couldn't hear everything before I got there.”
“So you are interpreting her expression.”
“I know Chloe.”
“That wasn't my question.”
Thomas stopped.
Sister Hazel waited.
“Yes.”
“Yes what?”
“Yes, I'm interpreting her expression.”
She wrote something down.
Thomas swallowed.
Joey hadn't been exaggerating.
Sister Hazel looked back at him.
“What happened next?”
“I went over.”
“Why?”
“Because she looked uncomfortable.”
“Then?”
“I told Xavier to leave her alone.”
“What did Mr. Dickinson do?”
“He didn't.”
“Did he threaten you?”
Thomas thought.
“Not really.”
“Did you threaten him?”
“No.”
“Did you touch him?”
“No.”
“Did he touch you?”
“Yeah.”
“How?”
Thomas looked down at his ankle.
“He came at me from behind.”
“Explain.”
“I turned away.”
“Why?”
“I thought it was over. So I started leaving with Chloe.”
“...and then?”
“He tackled me.”
“From behind?”
“Yes.”
“Are you certain?”
Thomas looked at her.
“Yes.”
Sister Hazel nodded.
“What happened to your ankle?”
“He got me down and it twisted.”
“Did Mr. Dickinson deliberately twist your ankle?”
Thomas paused.
Sister Hazel watched him.
Thomas thought about it.
“I don't know.”
She wrote something down.
“He tackled me from behind. I know that.”
“...but you don't know whether the ankle injury itself was
intentional.”
“No.”
Sister Hazel nodded.
“Thank you.”
Thomas blinked.
That was the first thing she'd said that sounded remotely
friendly.
She moved on.
“What happened after you went down?”
“Everybody started fighting.”
“Everybody?”
Thomas hesitated.
“No.”
“Then don't say everybody.”
Thomas nodded.
“Some people started fighting.”
“Who?”
Thomas looked at her.
“I don't know.”
“Who did you see?”
Thomas tried to remember.
Everything after hitting the ground had been confusing.
Pain.
People moving.
Shouting.
Cindy Lopez.
Chloe.
Joey.
Keisha.
Cody.
“Keisha wasn't fighting.”
Sister Hazel looked at her notes.
“Thickeisha Munnerlyn?”
“Yes.”
“Where was she?”
“Near me.”
“Doing what?”
“I don't remember exactly.”
“Was she striking anyone?”
“No.”
“Shoving anyone?”
“Not that I saw.”
“Did she enter the brawl?”
Thomas shook his head.
“No.”
Sister Hazel wrote.
“Joey Robertson?”
“She wasn't fighting.”
“Where was she?”
“Near Chloe.”
“Chloe Summers?”
“She wasn't fighting either.”
“You're certain?”
“Yes.”
“What was Miss Summers doing?”
“Mostly worrying about me.”
Sister Hazel looked at his ankle.
Thomas shrugged.
“I was hurt.”
“Yes.”
She wrote something else.
“Who else can you identify?”
“Xavier.”
“Mr. Dickinson.”
“Yes.”
“What did he do after you were injured?”
“He stayed on top of me.”
Sister Hazel looked up.
“After the tackle?”
“Yes.”
“What was he doing?”
Thomas thought.
“Mostly keeping me down.”
“Did he strike you?”
“No.”
“Did you strike him?”
“No.”
“What happened next?”
“Chloe and Joey pulled him off me.”
Sister Hazel stopped writing for a moment.
“Miss Summers and Miss Robertson?”
“Yes.”
“Together?”
“Yes.”
“Did either of them strike Mr. Dickinson?”
“No.”
“Did they shove him?”
“I don't know if I'd call it shoving.”
“What would you call it?”
“They grabbed him and pulled him off me.”
Sister Hazel nodded.
She wrote.
“...and then?”
“Cody came over.”
“Mr. Dampier?”
“Yes.”
“What did he do?”
“He shoved Xavier away.”
Sister Hazel looked up.
“Mr. Dampier shoved Mr. Dickinson?”
“Yes.”
“How hard?”
Thomas thought.
“Hard enough to get him away from me.”
“Did Mr. Dickinson fall?”
“I don't remember.”
“Did Mr. Dampier strike him?”
“No.”
“Are you certain?”
“Yes.”
“What did Mr. Dampier do after he shoved him?”
“He helped me.”
“How?”
“He came over to me. He was checking if I was okay.”
Sister Hazel wrote for several seconds.
“Did Mr. Dampier continue after Mr. Dickinson moved away?”
Thomas frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“Did he pursue him?”
“No.”
“Did he strike him?”
“No.”
“Did he attempt to continue fighting with him?”
“No.”
Sister Hazel nodded.
Thomas watched her write.
That seemed important.
“What happened after that?”
Thomas looked down at his ankle.
“That gets harder.”
“Why?”
“Because my ankle really hurt.”
Sister Hazel followed his eyes.
Thomas continued.
“Everybody was moving around. People were yelling. Then
Cindy came over after Cody flagged her down.”
“Cindy Lopez?”
“The nurse.”
“Yes.”
“She started looking at my ankle.”
“...and what did you see of the brawl after that?”
“Not much.”
“Nothing?”
“I saw things.”
“What things?”
Thomas tried to remember.
“People running around.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“Did you see anyone throwing punches?”
“I think so.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“Did you see anyone being struck?”
“I don't know.”
Sister Hazel stared at him.
Thomas pointed towards his ankle.
“It really hurt.”
Her expression did not change.
“Mr. Rydell, I understand that you were injured.”
“Okay.”
“I still need you to tell me what you actually saw.”
Thomas nodded.
“I saw people moving around.”
“Can you identify them?”
“Not really.”
“Then say that.”
“I can't identify them.”
Sister Hazel wrote something down.
“Did you see Mr. Dickinson after Mr. Dampier shoved him
away?”
Thomas thought.
“Not really.”
“Did you see him enter the larger fight?”
“I don't know.”
“Did you see Mr. Dampier enter the larger fight?”
“Not that I saw.”
“Where was he?”
“Near me.”
“For the entire incident?”
“I don't know.”
“Why don't you know?”
Thomas looked down at his ankle again.
Sister Hazel followed his eyes.
“Oh.”
Thomas nodded.
“Yeah.”
For the first time, he thought he saw something almost
resembling sympathy.
Almost.
“Who treated you?”
“Cindy Lopez.”
“The nurse?”
“Yes.”
“What were you doing while she examined you?”
Thomas blinked.
“Getting examined.”
Sister Hazel stared.
Thomas immediately understood.
“Sorry.”
“Mr. Rydell.”
“I know.”
“Take this seriously.”
“I am.”
“You're making jokes.”
“That's how I take things seriously.”
Sister Hazel's eyebrow moved.
Thomas realized that probably hadn't helped.
“I mean…”
He stopped.
Probably best.
Sister Hazel went through several more names.
Thomas couldn't help with most of them.
He hadn't seen Danny.
He hadn't seen Eric.
He hadn't seen Jensen.
He remembered bodies moving around him.
He remembered shouting.
He remembered adults rushing onto the field.
He remembered Chloe beside him.
He remembered Cindy telling him not to move his ankle.
...but identifying individual players?
No.
Finally, Sister Hazel put down her pen.
Thomas waited.
She looked over her notes.
Then at him.
“Is there anything else you remember that you believe may be
relevant?”
Thomas thought.
“No.”
“Anything Mr. Dickinson said before he tackled you?”
Thomas thought again.
He repeated what he could remember.
Sister Hazel wrote it down.
“Anything Miss Summers said?”
Thomas told her.
More writing.
Then Sister Hazel placed the pen on the desk.
“All right.”
Thomas waited.
“That's all I need from you.”
His shoulders dropped.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“I can go?”
“Yes.”
Thomas reached for his crutches.
Sister Hazel gathered her papers.
“Thank you for your time, Mr. Rydell.”
Thomas got one crutch underneath his arm.
Then the other.
He stood.
He looked at Sister Hazel.
She looked considerably less frightening now that he was
allowed to leave.
Thomas smiled.
“Thank you for not taking out your whip.”
Sister Hazel slowly looked up at him.
Thomas' smile weakened.
There was a pause.
“Leave, Mr. Rydell.”
“Yes, ma'am.”
“Before I have to resort to using it.”
Thomas froze.
Sister Hazel looked back down at her papers.
Thomas stared at her.
Was that a joke?
Her expression gave him absolutely nothing.
Thomas slowly backed towards the door.
“Okay.”
Sister Hazel turned a page.
Thomas reached the doorway.
He looked back.
She was already reading the next set of notes.
Thomas stepped into the hallway.
He closed the door.
Then stared at it.
He still couldn't tell.
Thomas adjusted his crutches.
Then moved down the hallway as quickly as an old man could.
By Thursday, everybody knew exactly what had happened.
Unfortunately, nobody knew the same thing.
Thomas heard the first version before first period.
“Dickinson's banned.”
Thomas stopped.
“What?”
“Forever.”
“Forever?”
“Forever.”
Thomas stared at the boy telling him this.
“From football?”
“Everything.”
“What does that mean?”
“I don't know. Everything.”
Thomas considered this.
“Who told you?”
“Mike.”
“Who's Mike?”
The boy shrugged.
Thomas continued towards class.
As quickly as Thomas could continue anywhere on crutches.
By second period, Xavier had apparently been expelled.
By third period, he had been suspended for the rest of the
year.
By lunch, somebody had heard Xavier wasn't even allowed to
enter Provo anymore.
Thomas didn't believe that one.
Mostly.
The truth was considerably less exciting.
Xavier Dickinson had received a four-game football
suspension and two weeks of in-school suspension.
Nobody seemed particularly interested in the truth.
There were better stories.
“Cody got suspended.”
Thomas looked at Joey.
They were sitting at their usual table.
“How long?”
“One game.”
Thomas frowned.
“Why?”
“The fight.”
“He wasn't in the fight.”
“I know.”
“He shoved Xavier away from me.”
“I know.”
“Then he helped me.”
“I know.”
“So why would they suspend him for a game?”
Joey shrugged.
“I'm telling you what I heard.”
Thomas looked at Chloe.
“You told Sister Hazel that too, right?”
“Yes.”
“That Cody helped me?”
“Yes.”
“...and Joey did.”
“Yes.”
“...and that you did.”
“Yes.”
Thomas frowned.
“So he shouldn't be suspended.”
Keisha looked at him.
“Maybe he isn't.”
That turned out to be closer to the truth.
Cody hadn't been suspended from football.
Sister Hazel had, however, concluded that Cody had become
involved in the larger fight after helping Thomas.
She was wrong.
Cody received two days of in-school suspension.
Cody was not particularly happy about this.
The rumours continued.
Christ the Savior supposedly didn't have enough players left
to field a football team.
That became Christ the Savior forfeiting its next game.
Then its next several games.
Then somebody announced that Christ the Savior had been
forced to forfeit its entire season.
“That's stupid,” said Keisha.
“How do you know?” asked Joey.
“Because everything everybody has said today is stupid.”
“That doesn't mean this one's stupid.”
“It probably does.”
Thomas adjusted himself in his chair.
His ankle was beginning to ache.
He hated crutches.
He hated his ankle.
He hated waiting.
At least the rumours were entertaining.
Joey leaned across the table.
“I heard Peter Pryor got kicked out of marching band.”
Thomas frowned.
“Who's Peter Pryor?”
“The drummer.”
“What drummer?”
“The drummer.”
Thomas stared.
Joey slapped her hands against the table in an approximation
of drumming.
Bad drumming.
Very bad drumming.
Thomas remembered.
“Oh.”
Chloe laughed.
“The one who couldn't keep up?”
“He couldn't keep up with himself,” said Joey.
Keisha started laughing.
“What happened to him?”
“Suspended for a week.”
Thomas stared.
“For drumming badly?”
“No!”
Joey laughed.
“He was in the fight.”
“The drummer was in the fight?”
“Yes.”
Thomas tried to remember seeing a marching-band uniform
somewhere in the mess.
He couldn't.
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
Keisha smiled.
“Maybe somebody insulted his drumming.”
Joey slapped the table again.
Keisha immediately grabbed her hands.
“Stop.”
“I thought it was good.”
“It wasn't.”
Chloe laughed.
Thomas looked between them.
“So he really got kicked out?”
“Yep.”
“...and suspended?”
“For a week.”
Thomas stared.
“That one's actually true?”
“That one's actually true.”
Thomas nodded.
“Huh.”
Apparently even rumours got lucky sometimes.
A boy walking past their table stopped.
“Hey, Tommy.”
Thomas looked up.
“What?”
“I heard you got suspended for a week.”
Thomas stared at him.
The boy continued walking.
Thomas slowly turned towards Chloe.
Chloe stared back.
Thomas smiled.
“What?”
“I got suspended.”
“No, you didn't.”
“For a whole week.”
“You've been here all week.”
Thomas grinned.
“Apparently I'm a troublemaker.”
Keisha laughed.
“You're dangerous.”
“I know.”
Joey leaned back.
“What'd you do?”
Thomas thought.
“Can't tell you.”
“Why?”
“Too dangerous.”
Chloe rolled her eyes.
Thomas nodded solemnly.
“One week.”
“You didn't even fight.”
“That's how bad it was.”
“You were on the ground.”
“Exactly.”
Keisha laughed harder.
Thomas loved this rumour.
Of all of them, this was easily his favourite.
He wondered how long he could keep it alive.
Probably not very long.
He was, after all, sitting in the school cafeteria.
While suspended.
Then something changed.
It didn't happen all at once.
One student stopped near the bulletin board.
Then another.
Then another.
Someone pointed.
The laughter around the cafeteria began giving way to
conversation.
Thomas noticed.
“What now?”
Joey looked over.
“Probably another rumour.”
Keisha stood.
“That one's on paper.”
Thomas looked towards the bulletin board.
A small crowd had formed.
Chloe stood.
“Come on.”
Thomas looked at his crutches.
“No.”
Chloe smiled.
“Come on.”
“I just got comfortable.”
She handed him a crutch.
Thomas stared at it.
“You're cruel.”
“I know.”
Getting to the bulletin board took considerably longer for
Thomas than everybody else.
By the time he arrived, Joey and Keisha had already read the
notice.
Neither was laughing.
Thomas noticed immediately.
“What?”
Nobody answered.
Thomas worked his way closer.
He read.
Then read it again.
The Crestview football team's upcoming game against Provo
Southern had been cancelled.
Crestview would forfeit.
Thomas frowned.
“What?”
Fifteen Crestview players had received suspensions that
would prevent them from participating.
Crestview could not field its normal team.
The game would not be played.
Provo Southern would receive the victory.
Thomas stared at the notice.
“So we lose?”
Terry had appeared beside them.
“Without playing.”
Thomas didn't like that.
He didn't like that at all.
“Can they do that?”
“They just did,” said Keisha.
Thomas kept reading.
Around them, everybody started talking.
“What happens to the season?”
“Nothing.”
“How do you know?”
“I don't.”
“Are we gonna play next week?”
“What if they're still suspended?”
“How many games did everybody get?”
“Are we gonna have enough players?”
“What about homecoming?”
That one spread quickly.
“Wait.”
“Homecoming.”
“When's homecoming?”
“What if they cancel homecoming?”
“They can't cancel homecoming.”
“They can cancel the game.”
“That's basically cancelling homecoming.”
“No, it isn't.”
“It is if there's no football!”
Thomas looked at Chloe.
“Are they the cancelling homecoming festivities?”
“I don't know.”
Nobody knew.
That was becoming a theme.
Then somebody behind them said something considerably worse.
“What about Deer Lake?”
Thomas turned.
“What about Deer Lake?”
The boy shrugged.
“What if we're still screwed by then?”
Thomas frowned.
Deer Lake.
He knew exactly when that game was.
He had been counting.
His re-evaluation came shortly before it.
Four weeks.
Then homecoming against Deer Lake.
In Thomas' mind, those two facts fit together very neatly.
Doctor looked at ankle.
Doctor said ankle was better.
Thomas played Deer Lake.
Simple.
Chloe looked at him.
She knew that expression.
“You're thinking about playing.”
Thomas looked at her.
“Deer Lake.”
“I know.”
“I could be back.”
Chloe hesitated.
“You could.”
Thomas smiled.
“My evaluation's before it.”
“I know.”
“So if everything looks good…”
Chloe didn't answer.
Thomas looked back at the notice.
He could already picture it.
Crestview finally getting everybody back.
The team whole again.
Thomas behind center.
Deer Lake across from him.
The season starting over.
Or at least feeling like it did.
Terry wasn't thinking that far ahead.
“What if the whole season's toast?”
Thomas looked at him.
“It isn't.”
“How do you know?”
Thomas opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
He didn't know.
Around him, the rumours had stopped being funny.
Fifteen players.
One cancelled game.
One automatic loss.
Homecoming.
Deer Lake.
The entire season.
Thomas stared at the notice.
A few minutes earlier, he'd been laughing because somebody
thought he was suspended.
Now he almost wished somebody would tell him that again.
Joey was tired.
Her legs hurt.
Her arms hurt.
There were parts of her body she hadn't known could hurt
from cheerleading.
Apparently they could.
Practice had stopped for a break.
Joey sat on the floor beside Polly Travis.
Very close beside Polly Travis.
Polly had both arms wrapped around Joey's waist.
Her head rested against Joey's.
Joey had one arm around Polly.
Her other hand slowly rubbed Polly's arm.
Polly liked that.
Joey knew because whenever she stopped, Polly moved slightly
closer.
So Joey kept doing it.
This was heaven.
Absolute heaven.
A beautiful girl was cuddling with her.
What more could she ask for?
Joey smiled.
Polly didn't notice.
To Polly, they were friends.
Close friends.
Very close friends.
The kind who could sit with their arms around each other
during a break and not think anything of it.
Joey thought considerably more of it.
“How long do we have?” Polly asked.
Joey looked towards Jenna.
“I don't know.”
“Ask.”
“You ask.”
“I don't wanna move.”
“Neither do I.”
Polly squeezed Joey slightly tighter.
Joey definitely wasn't moving now.
“Five minutes?” Polly guessed.
“Probably.”
“I hate five minutes.”
“Why?”
“Because it's not ten.”
Joey nodded.
“That makes sense.”
“I know.”
They sat quietly.
Joey continued rubbing Polly's arm.
Polly continued holding Joey around the waist.
Somewhere nearby, two other cheerleaders were arguing about
whether somebody had stolen somebody else's water bottle.
Joey didn't care.
She was comfortable.
Polly sighed.
“You think they're gonna cancel homecoming?”
Joey's hand stopped.
Polly moved her arm.
Joey started rubbing again.
“I hope not.”
“What if they do?”
“They probably won't.”
“You don't know that.”
“No.”
Polly frowned.
“They cancelled Southern.”
“Yeah.”
“What if everybody's still suspended?”
“I don't think everybody is.”
“Enough of them.”
“Yeah.”
Polly sighed.
“I've been looking forward to homecoming.”
“Me too.”
“Deer Lake.”
“Yeah.”
“We're supposed to beat them.”
Joey smiled.
“We were supposed to beat Christ.”
Polly lifted her head.
“Don't remind me.”
“Sorry.”
Polly put her head back against Joey's.
“Do you think Tommy'll play?”
“He thinks he will.”
“That wasn't what I asked.”
Joey smiled.
“He really thinks he will.”
“Isn't his ankle all screwed up?”
“Yep.”
“...and he thinks he's gonna play?”
“Yep.”
“Why?”
“He's Tommy.”
Polly considered that.
“Okay.”
They sat quietly again.
Polly's fingers moved slightly against Joey's side.
Joey looked down.
Then quickly looked somewhere else.
Heaven.
Definitely heaven.
Polly sighed.
“I need a boyfriend.”
Joey's eyebrows rose.
“You do?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I want one.”
“Oh.”
Joey wasn't entirely sure what to do with that.
Polly continued.
“There's nobody.”
“There are lots of boys.”
“There's nobody I like.”
“Oh.”
“I've looked.”
Joey smiled.
“You've looked at all of them?”
“Enough.”
“That's a lot of boys.”
“They're terrible.”
“All of them?”
“Pretty much.”
Joey laughed.
Polly lifted her head.
“Seriously.”
“What?”
“I can't find one guy I can tolerate.”
“That's probably important.”
“Exactly.”
Polly settled against her again.
“I don't even need perfect.”
“That's good.”
“I just need somebody cute.”
“Okay.”
“Nice.”
“Okay.”
“Not stupid.”
Joey thought.
“That might narrow things down.”
Polly laughed.
“...and somebody who doesn't think grabbing my butt is a
personality.”
Joey laughed harder.
“That really narrows things down.”
“I know!”
Polly squeezed her.
Joey smiled.
This conversation could continue forever as far as she was
concerned.
Then Polly asked something.
“What kind of guy do you like?”
Joey's hand stopped.
Polly nudged her arm.
The rubbing resumed.
“I don't know.”
“You don't know?”
“No.”
“How do you not know?”
Joey shrugged.
“I just don't.”
“You've never thought about it?”
“Not really.”
Polly lifted her head.
She looked at Joey.
Joey looked back.
Polly frowned slightly.
“Tall?”
“I don't know.”
“Short?”
“I don't know.”
“Blond?”
“I don't know.”
“Dark hair?”
“I don't know.”
“Football player?”
Joey smiled.
“No.”
Polly laughed.
“At least we found something.”
“Yeah.”
Polly looked at her for another moment.
Then the question came.
“Are you a lesbian?”
Joey froze.
Polly had asked it casually.
Almost curiously.
Like asking whether Joey liked chocolate ice cream.
Joey's heart started beating faster.
“What?”
“Are you a lesbian?”
Joey stared at her.
Polly seemed to realize how directly she'd asked.
“I mean…”
She hesitated.
“I don't know what I'd do if you really were one.”
Joey's smile disappeared.
Polly didn't seem to notice.
Or maybe she didn't understand what she'd just said.
Joey did.
She understood it immediately.
“No.”
The answer came easily.
Too easily.
Polly smiled.
“Oh.”
She put her head back against Joey's.
“Okay.”
Joey stared ahead.
Her hand continued rubbing Polly's arm.
Same movement.
Back.
Forth.
Back.
Forth.
Polly still had both arms around Joey's waist.
Nothing had changed.
Everything had changed.
Joey looked around the gym.
The other girls were talking.
Laughing.
Stretching.
Drinking water.
She had spent the last several days thinking she had finally
found somewhere she belonged.
They wanted her here.
They liked her.
They hugged her.
They cheered with her.
They laughed with her.
They called themselves a family.
Joey had liked that word.
Family.
She didn't have much use for the one she had at home.
This one had seemed better.
She looked down at Polly's arms around her waist.
Polly trusted her.
Polly liked her.
Polly was comfortable enough to wrap herself around Joey and
rest her head against hers.
As long as Joey was what Polly thought she was.
Joey swallowed.
She wondered what Jenna would say.
She wondered what the other girls would say.
She wondered how many of them would suddenly stop changing
around her.
Stop hugging her.
Stop sitting beside her.
Stop putting their arms around her.
Maybe none of them would.
Maybe Polly hadn't even meant it like that.
Maybe Joey was making too much of one stupid sentence.
She hoped so.
Polly squeezed her again.
Joey looked down at her.
“You okay?” Polly asked.
Joey forced a smile.
“Yeah.”
“You got quiet.”
“Just tired.”
“Me too.”
Polly settled back against her.
Joey rested her head against Polly's again.
Her hand continued rubbing Polly's arm.
She still liked being there.
That was almost the worst part.
A few minutes ago, this had been heaven.
Now Joey couldn't stop wondering whether she was welcome in
heaven only because nobody knew who she was.
Family.
She'd liked that word.
Family, but with conditions.
Joey didn't like that nearly as much.
Thomas Rydell was ready to play football.
His ankle had not yet agreed to this.
Thomas considered that a minor disagreement.
He sat in the hospital waiting area with Chloe on one side
of him and Joey on the other.
His crutches leaned against his chair.
He looked at the clock.
Then looked away.
Then looked at it again.
One minute had passed.
Thomas sighed.
Joey looked at him.
“You know staring at it doesn't make it go faster.”
“I know.”
“You keep doing it.”
“I know.”
Chloe smiled.
“You're nervous.”
“No.”
“You're very nervous.”
“I'm getting cleared today.”
“You're getting evaluated today.”
“Same thing.”
“No.”
Thomas looked at her.
“Basically.”
“No.”
Thomas looked at the clock again.
Joey leaned back.
“How was BYU?”
Thomas immediately stopped thinking about his ankle.
“Amazing.”
Joey smiled.
“That good?”
“They destroyed San Diego State.”
“I heard.”
“Destroyed.”
Thomas leaned forward.
His face lit up.
“McMahon was incredible.”
Chloe had already heard most of this.
Several times.
She smiled anyway.
“He was exactly as good as I thought he was.”
“Better,” said Chloe.
Thomas considered it.
“Maybe.”
Joey laughed.
“You're admitting somebody might be better than you
thought?”
“You didn't see him.”
“I wasn't there.”
“Exactly.”
Thomas was already somewhere else.
LaVell Edwards Stadium.
The crowd.
The noise.
His father beside him.
His crutches being considerably less cooperative than he
would have liked.
“Getting around sucked.”
Joey looked at the crutches.
“I imagine.”
“Stairs everywhere.”
“Probably shouldn't have gone.”
Thomas stared at her.
“It was BYU's home opener.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
“Exactly.”
Joey smiled.
Thomas continued.
“Third quarter.”
Chloe looked at Joey.
“Here we go.”
Thomas ignored her.
“McMahon drops back.”
He moved his hands as if holding a football.
“He's looking.”
Joey watched.
“Then he just launches it.”
Thomas mimed the throw.
“Bomb.”
“How big a bomb?”
“Bomb. Eighty yards.”
“That doesn't answer anything.”
“To Clay Brown.”
Thomas pointed down an imaginary field.
“Touchdown.”
He leaned back.
“Beautiful.”
Chloe smiled.
“You should've seen him.”
“I did see him.”
“I know.”
“You've also told me about it six times.”
“It gets better every time.”
“I've noticed.”
Thomas grinned.
“I tried to get Jimmy’s autograph.”
Joey looked interested.
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Oh.”
“He didn't see me.”
Thomas shrugged.
There was disappointment there.
Not much.
Not anymore.
“Too many people.”
“Did you yell?”
“Of course I yelled.”
“Maybe you didn't yell loud enough.”
“I yelled.”
Chloe laughed.
Thomas smiled.
“Didn't matter.”
“Why?”
“Glen Redd saw me.”
Joey blinked.
“Who's Glen Redd?”
Thomas stared at her.
Joey stared back.
Thomas looked at Chloe.
Chloe shrugged.
Thomas looked offended.
“Glen Redd.”
“Yes,” said Joey. “You said that.”
“Linebacker.”
“Oh.”
“For BYU.”
“I figured.”
Thomas shook his head.
“He signed my program.”
Joey smiled.
“That's cool.”
“He talked to me.”
That part mattered considerably more.
Thomas sat straighter.
“He actually stopped and talked to me.”
“What'd he say?”
“He asked what happened to my ankle.”
Joey looked down at it.
“What'd you tell him?”
“Football.”
Chloe looked at him.
“That isn't what happened.”
“I got hurt on a football field.”
“You got tackled after a football game.”
“Still football.”
Chloe rolled her eyes.
Thomas continued.
“I told him I play quarterback at Crestview.”
“What'd he say?”
Thomas tried not to smile.
Failed.
“He said maybe he'd see me wearing a Cougar uniform one
day.”
Joey smiled.
“Oh.”
Thomas nodded.
“Yeah.”
Chloe leaned towards Joey.
“He hasn't stopped talking about that either.”
“Glen Redd said it.”
“I know.”
“A BYU player.”
“I know.”
“To me.”
“I was there when you came home.”
Thomas grinned.
“Maybe I'll play with him.”
Chloe stared at him.
“He'll be gone.”
Thomas thought.
“Oh.”
Joey laughed.
Thomas didn't care.
Glen Redd thought he could be a Cougar.
Or had been nice enough to say he might be a Cougar.
Thomas preferred the first interpretation.
He looked at the clock again.
Still waiting.
Joey looked around the waiting area.
There were several other people nearby.
A woman reading a magazine.
A man staring at the floor.
A mother with a little boy.
Joey moved closer.
Very close.
Chloe noticed.
“What?”
Joey looked around again.
“Can I ask you guys something?”
Thomas looked at her.
“You just did.”
Chloe slapped his arm.
“Ow.”
“Shut up.”
Joey almost smiled.
Almost.
She leaned closer.
Her voice dropped.
“I mean something.”
Chloe's expression changed.
“Okay.”
Thomas leaned closer too.
Joey looked at him.
Then Chloe.
Then back at Thomas.
She couldn't get the words out.
Chloe waited.
Thomas did too.
For once.
Joey rubbed her hands together.
“If…”
She stopped.
Chloe reached over and touched her arm.
“It's okay.”
Joey swallowed.
“If I told you something…”
She stopped again.
Thomas frowned.
“Are you dying?”
“Tommy.”
“What?”
“No.”
Joey looked at him.
“I'm not dying.”
“Okay. Good.”
Chloe glared at him.
Thomas went quiet.
Joey took a breath.
“If I told you…”
She looked around again.
Nobody seemed to be listening.
“…that I like Keisha…”
Thomas smiled.
“We know you like Keisha.”
“No.”
Joey shook her head.
“I mean…”
She looked at Chloe.
“The way you like him.”
Chloe stopped.
Thomas stopped.
Joey's heart pounded.
There.
She'd said it.
Almost.
She waited.
Neither answered immediately.
That was bad.
Very bad.
Joey could already hear Polly.
I don't know what I'd do if you really were one.
Thomas looked at Chloe.
Chloe looked at Thomas.
They were thinking.
Processing.
Joey wanted them to stop processing.
Finally Thomas looked back at her.
“So…”
Joey waited.
Thomas smiled.
“If you and Keisha made out in front of me, I'd probably
like that a lot.”
Chloe slapped his arm.
“Ow!”
“Thomas!”
“What?”
Joey stared at him.
Thomas rubbed his arm.
“I'm just saying.”
“Don't.”
“Okay.”
Joey didn't know whether to laugh.
A tiny laugh escaped anyway.
Chloe turned back to her.
“Joey.”
Joey looked at her.
Chloe was quiet for another moment.
Then she smiled.
“I don't care.”
Joey blinked.
“You don't?”
“No.”
Thomas stopped rubbing his arm.
“Neither do I.”
Joey looked at him.
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“You don't think it's weird?”
Thomas thought.
“No.”
Chloe shook her head.
“No.”
“You'd still…”
Joey hesitated.
“You'd still want me around?”
Chloe's face changed.
“Of course.”
“Why wouldn't we?”
Joey looked at Thomas.
“Because.”
Thomas waited.
Joey couldn't say it.
She didn't need to.
Chloe squeezed her arm.
“Nothing changes.”
Joey stared at her.
“Nothing?”
“Nothing.”
Thomas nodded.
“You're Joey.”
Joey looked at him.
“So?”
Thomas shrugged.
“So you're Joey.”
Chloe smiled.
“You're our friend.”
“Yeah.”
“...and if you like Keisha that way…”
Chloe shrugged.
“…then you like Keisha that way.”
Joey swallowed.
Her eyes suddenly felt hot.
She looked down.
Thomas noticed.
“Are you crying?”
“No.”
“You look like you're crying.”
“Shut up.”
“Okay.”
Chloe put her arm around Joey.
Joey immediately leaned into her.
Thomas watched.
Joey looked at him.
He opened his arms.
She leaned across and hugged him too.
Thomas hugged her back.
For several seconds, Joey didn't say anything.
She just held them.
They knew.
They knew and they were still here.
No conditions.
No suddenly pulling away.
No wondering whether Joey had looked at them in the locker
room.
No treating her like something had changed.
Nothing had changed.
Joey finally pulled back.
“Thank you.”
Chloe frowned.
“You don't have to thank us.”
Joey nodded.
She did.
At least she felt like she did.
A door opened.
“Thomas Rydell?”
Thomas immediately looked up.
Everything else disappeared.
He grabbed his crutches.
“This is it.”
Chloe stood.
Joey stood.
Thomas got himself upright.
Joey hugged him.
“Good luck.”
“Don't need it.”
“Yes, you do.”
Chloe wrapped both arms around him.
She kissed him.
Thomas smiled.
“Tomorrow.”
Chloe knew exactly what he meant.
“Don't get ahead of yourself.”
“Deer Lake.”
“Evaluation.”
“Deer Lake.”
“Evaluation.”
Thomas grinned.
Then he looked at Joey.
“...and I still want to watch you and Keisha make out.”
Chloe slapped his arm.
“Ow!”
“If you suggest it again, I'm hitting your good ankle.”
Thomas stared at her.
“You wouldn't.”
Chloe looked down at his good ankle.
Thomas moved it away.
“You would.”
“Yes.”
Thomas adjusted his crutches.
“Okay.”
He followed the nurse.
Joey watched him go.
“He's an idiot.”
Chloe sat down.
“Yeah.”
Joey sat beside her.
“You really don't care?”
Chloe looked at her.
“No.”
Joey nodded.
That still felt good.
Really good.
Chloe smiled.
“So.”
Joey immediately became suspicious.
“What?”
“Have you made it official with Keisha?”
Joey stared at her.
“What?”
“You and Keisha.”
“No.”
“No?”
“No.”
Chloe frowned.
“...but you like each other.”
“Yeah.”
“...and you've kissed.”
Joey looked around.
“Quiet.”
Chloe lowered her voice.
“You've kissed.”
Joey nodded.
“...and…”
Chloe waited.
Joey's face became warm.
“We've done some stuff.”
Chloe's eyebrows rose.
“What stuff?”
“Stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?”
“Chloe.”
“What?”
“Stuff.”
Chloe smiled.
“Okay.”
Joey looked down at her hands.
“We haven't said we're girlfriends.”
“Why not?”
Joey shrugged.
“I don't know.”
“Yes, you do.”
Joey sighed.
“I'm scared.”
“Of Keisha?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
Joey thought about Polly.
The cheerleaders.
Family.
Conditions.
She shrugged again.
“Everything.”
Chloe watched her.
Joey continued.
“What if I ask and she doesn't want that?”
“She likes you.”
“I know.”
“What if she says yes?”
“That might be scarier.”
Chloe laughed softly.
Joey looked at her.
“I'm serious.”
“I know.”
Chloe reached over.
She took Joey's hand.
“You should totally ask her.”
Joey stared.
“Totally?”
“Totally.”
“What if it goes bad?”
“I've got your back.”
Joey looked at their hands.
Then at Chloe.
“You promise?”
“Yeah.”
Joey smiled.
A real smile this time.
“Okay.”
Chloe squeezed her hand.
Joey squeezed back.
Then they both looked towards the door Thomas had
disappeared through.
Joey sighed.
“You think they're gonna clear him?”
Chloe stared at the door.
“No.”
Joey looked at her.
“You didn't even think about it.”
“I've had four weeks to think about it.”
They waited.
Thomas had no idea what the doctor was doing.
He had decided that was probably fine.
The doctor knew what the doctor was doing.
Presumably.
Thomas sat on the examination table with his right shoe and
sock off.
His ankle looked considerably better than it had four weeks
earlier.
That was obvious.
The swelling was mostly gone.
The bruising was gone.
He could move it.
He could stand on it.
He could walk on it.
Mostly.
Sometimes it hurt.
Sometimes he still needed the crutches.
Thomas considered these minor details.
The doctor held Thomas' lower leg.
“Push against my hand.”
Thomas pushed.
“Harder.”
Thomas pushed harder.
“Any pain?”
“A little.”
“Where?”
Thomas pointed.
The doctor pressed against the outside of his ankle.
Thomas flinched.
“There?”
“Yeah.”
The doctor nodded.
Thomas wasn't sure whether that was good.
The doctor moved his foot another way.
“Tell me if this hurts.”
It hurt.
Thomas told him.
Another movement.
That didn't hurt.
Another.
That did.
Then Thomas stood.
The doctor watched him walk.
Thomas walked.
Slowly at first.
Then normally.
Or as normally as he could.
He made it across the room.
Turned.
Came back.
See?
Walking.
Football players walked.
Therefore Thomas could play football.
Simple.
“Stand on the injured leg.”
Thomas did.
The doctor watched.
Thomas concentrated.
His ankle wobbled slightly.
He corrected it.
Still standing.
Good.
“Now raise yourself onto your toes.”
Thomas tried.
Pain.
Not terrible pain.
Pain.
He did it anyway.
The doctor noticed.
Thomas wished he hadn't.
“Again.”
Thomas did it again.
The doctor made another note.
Thomas stared at the paper.
He couldn't read it upside down.
He wasn't sure he'd understand it right-side up either.
The doctor tested something else.
Then something else.
Thomas waited.
Patiently.
Very patiently.
Tomorrow.
Deer Lake.
First quarter.
Thomas could already see the defense.
Maybe they'd expect Crestview to protect him.
Short passes.
Runs.
Nothing dangerous.
So don't.
Open deep.
Danny down the sideline.
Make them respect it immediately.
Then Terry underneath.
Cal on a draw.
Maybe roll Thomas out-
The doctor moved his ankle.
Thomas winced.
Okay.
Maybe don't roll out immediately.
Second quarter.
If Deer Lake brought pressure-
“Does that hurt?”
Thomas blinked.
“What?”
The doctor looked at him.
Thomas realized he had been asked a question.
“Oh.”
He thought.
“Yeah.”
“How much?”
“Not much.”
The doctor looked at him.
Thomas corrected himself.
“Some.”
The doctor nodded.
More writing.
Thomas returned to Deer Lake.
Third quarter.
By then he'd have them.
Maybe he could convince Coach Ritter to let him-
The door opened.
Thomas looked over.
Paul Ritter entered.
Wayne Calder followed him.
Thomas smiled.
“You're late.”
“Traffic,” said Calder.
Ritter looked at the doctor.
“Did we miss anything?”
“Not the important part.”
Thomas grinned.
“Perfect timing.”
Ritter looked at him.
“You know what he's gonna say?”
“Yes.”
“No, you don't.”
Thomas looked at the doctor.
“He's clearing me.”
The doctor didn't respond.
Thomas' smile weakened slightly.
Ritter noticed.
Calder moved closer.
“How's he look?”
The doctor glanced at his notes.
“Better.”
Thomas smiled again.
Much better word.
“Considerably better than four weeks ago.”
Even better.
“The swelling has resolved well. His range of motion has
improved. He's able to bear weight.”
Thomas looked at Ritter.
See?
The doctor continued.
“He still has tenderness over the lateral ankle. There's
pain with stress, some residual weakness and instability.”
Thomas stopped smiling.
Calder frowned.
“...but he's walking.”
The doctor looked at him.
“Yes.”
Calder pointed at Thomas.
“He can walk.”
“Yes.”
Thomas nodded.
Exactly.
The doctor looked back at Thomas.
“Walking and playing football are not the same thing.”
Thomas didn't like where this was going.
“At this point, I'm not clearing you for contact sports.”
Thomas stared at him.
There was silence.
Then-
“What?”
“You're not cleared to play.”
Thomas waited.
The doctor didn't correct himself.
“Tomorrow?”
“No.”
Thomas stared.
“...but I can walk.”
“Yes.”
“I just walked.”
“I saw you.”
“I can run.”
“Can you?”
Thomas opened his mouth.
The doctor waited.
Thomas closed it.
He hadn't really tried.
Not properly.
Not without pain.
Calder stepped forward.
“He can walk, right?”
Ritter looked at him.
“Wayne.”
“I'm asking.”
“Yes,” said the doctor. “He can walk.”
“So-”
“Wayne.”
Calder stopped.
Ritter looked at the doctor.
“He's not ready?”
“No.”
“How much risk are we talking about?”
“Enough that I won't clear him.”
Ritter nodded.
“Okay.”
Thomas stared at him.
“Okay?”
Ritter looked at Thomas.
“Yes.”
“You're just okay with that?”
“I'm not happy about it.”
“You didn't even argue.”
“Why would I argue?”
Thomas pointed at the doctor.
“Because I can play!”
The doctor remained remarkably unimpressed.
Ritter stepped closer.
“Tommy.”
“I've been out four weeks.”
“I know.”
“Deer Lake is tomorrow.”
“I know.”
“Homecoming.”
“I know.”
“I've been waiting for this.”
“I know.”
Thomas stared at him.
Ritter's voice stayed calm.
“The doctor says you're not ready.”
“...but-”
“So you're not playing.”
Thomas looked at Calder.
Calder looked considerably less convinced.
“He looks pretty good to me.”
Ritter turned to him.
“He looks good walking around a doctor's office.”
Calder shrugged.
“That's something.”
“It is.”
Ritter looked back at Thomas.
“...but I need him walking when he's forty.”
Thomas frowned.
“Forty?”
“...and fifty.”
Thomas stared.
“...and sixty.”
Thomas looked horrified.
“That is really old.”
The doctor smiled slightly.
Ritter didn't.
“I want you healthy tomorrow. I want you healthy next week.
I want you healthy next year. I want you healthy when you're an old man.”
Thomas looked down at his ankle.
Ritter continued.
“I'm not wrecking your ankle for one high-school football
game.”
“It's homecoming.”
“I know what game it is.”
“Deer Lake.”
“I know who we're playing.”
Thomas looked at the doctor.
“What if I wear extra tape?”
“No.”
“A brace?”
“No.”
“Both?”
“No.”
“What if I don't run?”
Ritter almost smiled.
“No.”
“What if-”
“No.”
Thomas sighed.
He looked down at the floor.
For the first time all afternoon, he stopped thinking about
plays.
Ritter turned back to the doctor.
“What happens next?”
“I'd like another two weeks.”
Thomas' head shot up.
“Two weeks?”
“Then we'll reassess.”
Thomas groaned.
“Two weeks?”
“Yes.”
“The season's gonna be almost over!”
“I know.”
Thomas fell backward onto the examination table.
He stared at the ceiling.
Two weeks.
Two more weeks.
He hated that number.
He hated waiting.
He hated ankles.
He was beginning to hate doctors.
Ritter shook the doctor's hand.
“Thank you.”
Thomas lifted his head.
“Why are you thanking him?”
Ritter looked at him.
“Because he did his job.”
“He ruined my life.”
“No, he didn't.”
“Season.”
“No.”
“Homecoming.”
“That one, yes.”
Thomas dropped his head again.
Calder looked at Ritter.
“So what do we do with him?”
Ritter looked at Thomas.
Thomas stared miserably at the ceiling.
Ritter thought.
Then smiled.
“Feed him.”
Thomas lifted his head.
“What?”
Ritter looked at him.
“You eaten?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Thomas sat up.
Ritter continued.
“I'll buy you dinner.”
Thomas considered this.
“Where?”
Ritter smiled.
“That burger place you like.”
Thomas' misery weakened.
“The really good one?”
“The really good one.”
“With the giant burgers?”
“Yes.”
“...and fries?”
“If you want fries.”
Thomas sat straighter.
“...and a shake?”
Ritter sighed.
“Yes.”
Thomas looked at his ankle.
Then at the doctor.
Then at Ritter.
He considered the situation.
No Deer Lake.
No homecoming game.
Two more weeks.
Burger.
Fries.
Shake.
It was not a fair trade.
Not remotely.
Thomas reached for his sock.
“Okay.”
Ritter smiled.
Thomas started pulling the sock back onto his foot.
He stopped.
“Can I get bacon?”
“Yes.”
Thomas nodded.
It still wasn't a fair trade.
...but it was getting better.
While Thomas was having his ankle twisted, pushed, pulled
and otherwise examined by people who insisted they knew what they were doing,
Joey was using the telephone.
She had already made one important decision today.
Now she was making another.
Keisha answered.
“Hello?”
“Hi.”
“Joey?”
“Yeah.”
“Where are you?”
“The hospital.”
There was a pause.
“What happened?”
“Nothing!”
Joey realized that hadn't been particularly reassuring.
“Tommy's getting his ankle checked.”
“Oh.”
“He's fine.”
“Okay.”
“Probably.”
“Joey.”
“He's fine.”
Keisha laughed.
“Okay.”
Joey wrapped the telephone cord around her finger.
“Can you come here?”
“To the hospital?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
Joey looked at Chloe.
Chloe was sitting nearby.
Watching.
Waiting.
Joey had told her what she wanted to do.
Chloe smiled encouragingly.
Joey looked away.
“I need to ask you something.”
“Ask me now.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because.”
“That's not an answer.”
“I know.”
Keisha waited.
Joey squeezed the receiver.
“Can you just come?”
Another pause.
“Yeah.”
Joey smiled.
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
“Bye.”
“Bye.”
Joey hung up.
She stared at the telephone.
Chloe stood.
“You did it.”
“I invited her here.”
“That's the first part.”
Joey looked horrified.
“There's another part?”
Chloe laughed.
Joey did not.
Keisha arrived not long afterward.
Joey was waiting outside.
Chloe stood directly behind her.
Joey had specifically requested this.
Not beside her.
Behind her.
Right behind her.
Keisha walked towards them.
“Hey.”
“Hi.”
Joey stepped forward.
Keisha smiled.
Joey stepped closer.
Keisha's smile weakened slightly.
Joey stepped closer again.
Now they were very close.
Keisha looked at her.
Joey looked down.
Keisha looked at Chloe.
Chloe shrugged.
“What happened?” Keisha asked.
“Nothing.”
“Did Tommy get bad news?”
“No.”
“Did somebody die?”
“No.”
“Did you do something?”
“No.”
Keisha frowned.
“Did I do something?”
“No!”
Joey immediately looked up.
“No. No. You didn't do anything.”
“Okay.”
Joey looked down again.
Her heart was pounding.
She could feel Chloe behind her.
She could feel Keisha in front of her.
She could feel every single stupid thought in her head
telling her not to do this.
Polly.
The cheerleaders.
Everything.
Joey moved even closer.
Keisha waited.
Joey opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
Chloe rubbed her back.
“It's okay.”
Joey nodded.
It wasn't.
She looked over her shoulder at Chloe.
Please.
Chloe understood immediately.
Joey could see it in her face.
Please ask for me.
Chloe smiled.
Then shook her head.
Very slightly.
No.
Joey stared at her.
Chloe gave her another encouraging smile.
You have to do this yourself.
Joey hated Chloe.
Not really.
For about three seconds.
Definitely.
Joey turned back towards Keisha.
Keisha was now thoroughly confused.
“Joey?”
Joey took a breath.
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
“I…”
She stopped.
Keisha waited.
“I really like you.”
Keisha smiled.
“I really like you too.”
“No.”
Keisha's smile disappeared.
“No?”
“I mean yes.”
Joey closed her eyes.
This was going terribly.
“I mean…”
She opened them again.
“I like you.”
“Okay.”
“Like really like you.”
Keisha smiled again.
“I know.”
Joey swallowed.
“...and we've…”
She glanced at Chloe.
Chloe suddenly became very interested in something else.
Joey looked back at Keisha.
“We've done stuff.”
Keisha's smile grew.
“Yeah.”
“...and I…”
Joey's voice got quieter.
“I want…”
She stopped.
Keisha waited.
Joey stared at her.
Then forced the words out.
“Do you want to be my girlfriend?”
Keisha didn't hesitate.
Not for one second.
“Yes.”
Joey blinked.
Keisha grinned.
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“Yes!”
“How much?”
Keisha laughed.
“A thousand percent.”
Joey's eyes widened.
“A thousand?”
“A thousand.”
Keisha threw her arms around her.
Joey immediately wrapped both arms around Keisha.
They squeezed each other.
Hard.
Joey buried her face against Keisha's shoulder.
Keisha laughed.
“I've been waiting for you to ask!”
Joey pulled back.
“What?”
“I've been waiting!”
“Why didn't you ask me?”
“Why didn't you ask me?”
“I just did!”
“Exactly!”
Joey laughed.
Her eyes were wet.
Keisha's were too.
Joey looked at her.
“My girlfriend.”
Keisha smiled.
“My girlfriend.”
Joey kissed her.
Keisha kissed her back.
Chloe watched them.
Her own eyes suddenly felt wet.
She smiled.
Joey and Keisha pulled apart.
Looked at each other.
Then kissed again.
Neither noticed the two people approaching in the distance.
Jason Rydell did.
Kathy Rydell did too.
They stopped.
Jason looked at the girls.
Then at Kathy.
Then back at the girls.
A grin slowly appeared on his face.
Kathy looked at him.
Jason kept grinning.
Kathy swatted his arm.
“Ow.”
She gave him a look.
Jason's grin disappeared.
Mostly.
Then Kathy said one word.
“Oliver.”
Jason's expression changed.
Immediately.
He looked back at Joey and Keisha.
The joke disappeared entirely.
“Yeah.”
Kathy watched the girls.
Joey was hugging Keisha again.
Chloe stood beside them.
Smiling.
“They don't know we saw.”
“No.”
“We keep it that way.”
Jason nodded.
“Yeah.”
“If they want us to know, they'll tell us.”
“Right.”
Kathy looked at him.
“...and you don't say anything.”
“I won't.”
“Anything.”
“I said I won't.”
“No jokes.”
Jason sighed.
“No jokes.”
Kathy smiled.
“Good.”
They started walking again.
By the time Joey noticed them, she and Keisha were no longer
kissing.
Joey froze.
Keisha followed her eyes.
“Oh.”
Chloe turned.
Jason and Kathy were approaching.
Joey's face went pale.
“Did they see?”
Keisha's eyes widened.
“Oh, by Jove!”
“Did they see?”
“I don't know.”
“They saw.”
“You don't know that.”
“They definitely saw.”
Chloe looked at the approaching Rydells.
Jason waved.
Kathy smiled.
Neither behaved strangely.
At all.
Chloe looked back at Joey.
“If they did, they sure aren't saying anything.”
Joey stared at them.
Keisha moved closer to her.
“They saw.”
“Maybe.”
“They saw.”
Joey grabbed Keisha's hand.
“We have to tell them.”
“What?”
“We have to come out now.”
“No, we don't,” said Keisha.
“Yes, we do.”
“Why?”
“Because they saw us.”
“You don't know that.”
“They might've.”
Chloe put a hand on Joey's shoulder.
“Relax.”
Joey looked at her.
“What if they know?”
“Then they know.”
Joey stared.
Chloe shrugged.
“They're smiling.”
Joey looked again.
They were.
That helped.
A little.
Keisha squeezed Joey's hand.
“We don't have to tell anybody anything right now.”
“...but-”
“We just became girlfriends.”
Joey looked at her.
Keisha smiled.
“Can we enjoy that for five minutes?”
Joey thought.
“Maybe.”
“Good.”
Kathy and Jason reached them.
“Hi, girls,” Kathy said.
“Hi.”
Joey's voice was considerably higher than usual.
Kathy didn't react.
Jason looked at Chloe.
“Where's Tommy?”
“Still inside.”
“Coach Ritter and Coach Calder are with him.”
Jason nodded.
“We know. We saw their cars.”
“We wanted to talk to the doctor too,” said Kathy. “Make
sure we know what he said.”
Joey studied both of them.
Nothing.
No look.
No question.
No reaction.
Maybe they hadn't seen.
Maybe.
Kathy smiled at the girls.
“Paul said he's taking Tommy out for dinner afterward.”
Chloe nodded.
“He promised him a burger.”
Jason laughed.
“That'll cure him.”
“I think Tommy thinks it might.”
Kathy looked towards the hospital entrance.
“We'll go find them.”
She smiled again.
“See you girls in a bit.”
“Okay.”
Jason followed her.
He glanced back once.
Joey immediately stiffened.
Jason smiled.
Then turned around.
Joey stared.
“They know.”
Keisha groaned.
“You don't know that.”
“He looked at us.”
“We're standing here.”
“He smiled.”
“He smiles.”
“Not like that.”
Chloe laughed.
Joey looked at her.
“This isn't funny.”
“A little.”
“No.”
Keisha squeezed Joey's hand again.
Chloe put her arm around Joey.
“Look.”
Joey looked at her.
“Maybe they saw you. Maybe they didn't.”
“They did.”
“Fine. Maybe they did.”
Joey waited.
“Did they say anything?”
“No.”
“Did they look angry?”
“No.”
“Did they pull you apart?”
“No.”
“Did they tell Keisha to leave?”
“No.”
Chloe smiled.
“Those seem like pretty good signs.”
Joey thought about it.
They did.
Pretty good signs.
Not guarantees.
...but good signs.
Keisha leaned against her.
“We don't have to rush.”
Joey looked at her.
“No?”
“No.”
Chloe nodded.
“You tell people when you're ready.”
Joey breathed out.
“Okay.”
She squeezed Keisha's hand.
“Okay.”
A while later, the hospital doors opened.
Thomas came out first.
He looked miserable.
That answered one question.
Chloe immediately stood.
“Oh.”
Thomas looked at her.
“No.”
Joey frowned.
“They didn't clear you?”
“No.”
“Tomorrow?”
“No.”
Thomas looked personally betrayed by the concept.
“Two more weeks.”
Chloe walked over and hugged him.
“I'm sorry.”
Thomas put his arms around her.
“Stupid ankle.”
Joey hugged him next.
“I'm sorry.”
“Stupid doctor.”
Keisha hugged him too.
“I'm sorry.”
“Stupid everything.”
Paul Ritter came through the doors behind him.
Wayne Calder followed.
Then Jason and Kathy.
Ritter looked at the three girls.
“You girls coming?”
Chloe looked at Joey.
Joey looked at Keisha.
Keisha nodded.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Thomas looked at Ritter.
“You said you're buying.”
“I am.”
“For everybody?”
Ritter stopped.
He looked at Chloe.
Then Joey.
Then Keisha.
Then Thomas.
Thomas smiled innocently.
Ritter sighed.
“Yes.”
Thomas brightened slightly.
Jason laughed.
“Expensive promise.”
“I've made worse.”
Kathy hugged Thomas.
“Call when you're done.”
“I will.”
Jason put a hand on Thomas' shoulder.
“Take it easy.”
“I am.”
Everybody looked at his crutches.
Thomas frowned.
“I am.”
Ritter looked at Jason and Kathy.
“I'll bring him back in one piece.”
Jason smiled.
“Please do.”
Ritter looked at Thomas.
“I might even keep him out of trouble.”
“Might?” Kathy asked.
Ritter looked at her.
“You know your son.”
Kathy considered this.
“Fair.”
Thomas looked offended.
“I don't get in trouble.”
Everyone looked at him.
Thomas thought.
“Much.”
Jason hugged him.
Kathy kissed his cheek.
They said goodbye to Chloe, Joey and Keisha.
Kathy hugged the girls.
Jason waved.
Neither said a word about what they had seen.
Joey watched them leave.
Keisha watched too.
Then Joey looked at Keisha.
“They know.”
Keisha sighed.
“Burger.”
Joey smiled.
“Burger.”
Thomas adjusted his crutches.
“Can we go now?”
Ritter started walking.
“Yes.”
Thomas followed.
Chloe went with him.
Joey reached for Keisha's hand.
She hesitated.
Then took it.
Keisha squeezed.
Joey smiled.
Girlfriend.
That was going to take some getting used to.
She liked it already.
Homecoming at Crestview was a major event.
The opening football game had been a carnival.
Homecoming was a bigger carnival.
Much bigger.
In Crestview terms, this meant there were now two mosasaur
tanks.
Thomas stood with his parents and Bowie and stared at them.
One mosasaur had apparently not been enough.
Thomas wasn't sure why.
He wasn't complaining.
“They're gonna feed them!”
Bowie bounced excitedly.
“I know.”
“What're they gonna eat?”
“I don't know.”
“A shark?”
“I don't think so.”
“A person?”
Kathy looked at him.
“No.”
Bowie looked disappointed.
Thomas smiled.
“Maybe a deer.”
Jason looked at him.
“That'd be a little much.”
It was a deer.
Two of them.
Dead ones.
Thomas stared.
Jason stared.
Kathy stared.
Bowie stared.
“I told you.”
“You guessed,” said Jason.
“I was right.”
“You were still guessing.”
That didn't matter.
Everybody entering the stadium had been given a card.
Thomas had assumed it was something important.
It wasn't.
WHICH MOSASAUR EATS FIRST?
Tank One.
Tank Two.
Thomas looked at Jason.
“What do we win?”
Jason read the bottom.
“Discounts on concessions.”
“How much?”
“Depends what you buy.”
Thomas considered this.
“So basically nothing.”
“Basically.”
Bowie held his card up.
“I pick that one!”
“Which one?”
“That one!”
Jason followed his finger.
“Tank Two?”
“Yeah!”
“Why?”
Bowie thought.
“He looks hungry.”
Thomas nodded.
Solid reasoning.
The deer were lowered.
The crowd gathered around the tanks.
Somebody started a countdown.
“FIVE!”
Bowie jumped.
“FOUR!”
Thomas smiled despite himself.
“THREE!”
Jason joined in.
“TWO!”
Kathy did not.
“ONE!”
The deer hit the water.
Both mosasaurs moved.
The crowd erupted.
Tank Two got there first.
Bowie screamed.
“I WON!”
He jumped up and down.
“I WON! I WON! I WON!”
Jason looked at his card.
“So did I.”
Thomas looked at his.
Tank One.
He frowned.
“Stupid mosasaur.”
Kathy looked at him.
“You're insulting an animal out of its habitat.”
“He cost me cheap fries.”
“He's devastated.”
“He should be.”
Bowie held his card above his head.
“I WON!”
For Bowie, this was apparently the greatest achievement in
Rydell family history.
Thomas smiled.
He loved this.
That was the problem.
He loved all of it.
The noise.
The ridiculousness.
The school colours everywhere.
The students yelling.
The marching band playing.
The smell of food.
The carnival games.
The sheer number of people who had decided that beating Deer
Lake was the most important thing happening anywhere in the world tonight.
Thomas wanted to be part of it.
He was.
Just not the part he wanted.
His ankle reminded him.
Not with pain.
Not right now.
That almost made it worse.
Thomas looked down at it.
No crutches.
He hadn't needed them today.
He could walk.
He could stand.
He could move around.
He looked perfectly normal.
Which meant everybody asked the same question.
“Tommy!”
Thomas turned.
A student pointed at his ankle.
“You're off the crutches!”
“Yeah.”
“You playing tonight?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Doctors.”
The student frowned.
“You look fine.”
“I know.”
Thomas continued walking.
Another student found him several minutes later.
“Hey, Tommy! You playing?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Doctors.”
“...but you're walking.”
“I know.”
“So why-”
“Doctors.”
Thomas walked away.
Then another.
“You playing tonight?”
“Doctors.”
“I didn't ask why.”
Thomas stopped.
“Oh.”
The boy laughed.
Thomas didn't.
He was getting very tired of doctors.
Around him, Crestview had transformed itself for Deer Lake.
The theme was obvious.
Hunting.
Everywhere.
A banner stretched across one section of the grounds.
IT'S DEER SEASON!
Thomas smiled.
Somebody had spent a lot of time painting that.
Students wandered around dressed as hunters.
Some wore camouflage jackets and orange caps.
Others had gone considerably further.
One boy had painted his face green and brown and covered
himself in branches.
Thomas wasn't sure whether he was supposed to be a hunter or
a tree.
Another student had built what appeared to be an entire fake
hunting blind around himself.
Only his legs were visible underneath.
A girl wore a formal dress covered in camouflage fabric.
Someone else had simply put antlers on his head and a large
target on his chest.
Thomas stared.
“I think he's doing it backwards.”
Jason looked.
“Maybe he's bait.”
“Oh.”
That made sense.
Sort of.
Not everybody had understood the limits of the theme.
Several people had arrived carrying actual hunting rifles.
They didn't get very far.
John Davis stood near the entrance while staff members
directed the rifles away from the stadium.
“No.”
One man protested.
“It's unloaded.”
“No.”
“It's part of the costume.”
“No.”
“I've got a permit.”
“No.”
The man stared at him.
Davis pointed towards the check area.
“You can pick it up when you leave.”
“It's Deer Lake.”
“I know who we're playing.”
The man reluctantly surrendered the rifle.
Davis watched it disappear.
Then another student approached with one.
Davis closed his eyes.
“No.”
“I didn't say anything.”
“You were going to.”
The student looked at his rifle.
Davis pointed.
“Check it.”
The student sighed.
Thomas laughed.
Davis noticed him.
“You think this is funny?”
“A little.”
“Would you like to spend the evening checking rifles?”
“No.”
“Then keep walking.”
Thomas kept walking.
The carnival games had changed too.
Several were variations on the same basic concept.
Shoot the deer.
Throw something at the deer.
Knock over the deer.
Hit the deer.
Thomas stopped at one booth.
Rows of wooden deer moved from side to side.
Students fired cork guns at them.
Another booth involved throwing footballs through holes
painted onto cartoon deer.
Another had small deer targets that students knocked over
with beanbags.
Bowie wanted to play all of them.
Every single one.
“Can I shoot the deer?”
Jason looked at Kathy.
Kathy looked at Jason.
“It's a cork gun,” Jason said.
“I know.”
“Can I?”
Bowie bounced.
“Can I? Can I? Can I?”
Kathy sighed.
“Fine.”
Bowie celebrated.
Then stopped.
He looked at the wooden deer.
Something had occurred to him.
“Tommy?”
Thomas looked down.
“What?”
“Can I still like Santa's reindeer?”
Thomas stared at him.
“What?”
“Santa's reindeer.”
“Yeah.”
“...but we're shooting deers.”
Thomas looked at Jason.
Jason looked at Kathy.
Kathy looked at Thomas.
Nobody had prepared for this.
Thomas crouched slightly.
His ankle complained.
He stood again.
“Santa's reindeer are different.”
Bowie frowned.
“How?”
Thomas looked at his father.
Help.
Jason stepped in.
“Santa's reindeer don't go to Deer Lake.”
Bowie stared at him.
Jason seemed satisfied with this answer.
Bowie wasn't.
“...but they're deers!”
Jason opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Thomas tried.
“They're Christmas deers.”
Kathy looked at him.
Thomas shrugged.
Bowie's lower lip pushed forward.
“Rudolph's a deer.”
“Yes.”
“...and I like Rudolph.”
“You can like Rudolph.”
“...but we're shooting deers.”
“Not Rudolph.”
“How do you know?”
Thomas had absolutely no idea how to answer this.
Thankfully, something distracted Bowie.
Unfortunately, it was the worst possible thing.
A group of students walked past.
One carried a large sign.
Thomas saw it.
Jason saw it.
Kathy saw it.
Bowie saw it.
The sign showed Rudolph.
Red nose.
Antlers.
Christmas collar.
...and a large painted bullet hole in his body and blood
flowing out.
Underneath:
DEER SEASON MEANS EVERY DEER
Bowie stopped.
His face changed.
Thomas immediately knew what was coming.
“No.”
Bowie stared at the sign.
“Rudolph!”
His eyes filled.
The student carrying the sign continued walking.
Bowie started crying.
“No! Rudolph!”
Kathy immediately picked him up.
“Oh, honey.”
“They killed Rudolph!”
“No, they didn't.”
“They did!”
“That's just a picture.”
“RUDOLPH!”
Thomas looked at the sign.
Then at his little brother.
Then back at the sign.
“That's messed up.”
Jason nodded.
“Yeah.”
Someone else noticed.
John Davis.
He moved through the crowd.
Quickly.
The student with the sign saw him approaching.
“Principal Davis.”
Davis held out his hand.
“Give me that.”
The student looked at the sign.
“What?”
“That.”
“Why?”
“Poor taste.”
The student stared.
“It's Deer Lake.”
“It's Rudolph.”
“So?”
Davis pointed at Bowie.
Bowie was still crying into Kathy's shoulder.
The student looked.
His expression changed.
“Oh.”
Davis held out his hand again.
The student surrendered the sign.
Davis looked at it.
He shook his head.
“Rudolph.”
The student shrugged.
“Sorry.”
“You should be.”
Davis carried the sign away.
Bowie lifted his head.
“Is Rudolph okay?”
Kathy rubbed his back.
“Yes.”
Bowie sniffled. He still looked suspiciously towards the
crowd.
There were too many people dressed like hunters.
Too many people carrying fake rifles.
Too many people talking about deer season.
Kathy rubbed his back.
“Rudolph's fine.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
“Okay.”
Someone slipped an arm around Thomas'.
He looked over.
Chloe.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
She kissed his cheek.
Thomas smiled.
“Where were you?”
“Looking for you.”
“I've been here.”
Chloe looked around at several thousand people.
“Very helpful.”
Bowie immediately held up his winning card.
“MY MOSASAUR WON!”
Chloe looked at it.
“Congratulations.”
“Tommy's lost.”
“Stupid mosasaur.”
Kathy looked at him.
“You're insulting an animal out of its habitat.”
Chloe laughed.
Thomas looked towards the field.
His smile faded slightly.
Chloe noticed.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.”
She looked at him.
Thomas sighed.
“I should be down there.”
“I know.”
Chloe squeezed his arm.
“I'll sit with you.”
Thomas looked at her.
“You don't have to.”
“I know.”
Bowie looked up.
“I'm sitting with Tommy too.”
Chloe smiled.
“Then we'll both sit with Tommy.”
Bowie seemed satisfied with this arrangement.
Thomas did too.
Mostly.
This was exactly where he wanted to be.
Almost.
The cheerleaders had gotten into the spirit too.
Mostly.
Their uniforms were the same.
Their shoes were the same.
Their routines were the same.
The deerstalker hats were new.
Joey stared at herself.
Then at the hat.
Then at herself again.
A strap ran underneath her chin.
This was apparently supposed to keep the hat attached to her
head.
Joey wasn't convinced.
She pulled on it.
The hat stayed.
She pulled harder.
Still there.
Polly looked over.
“What are you doing?”
“Testing it.”
“For what?”
Joey stared at her.
“I'm doing a backflip.”
Polly looked at the hat.
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
Polly thought about it.
“Maybe it'll stay.”
“Maybe it'll strangle me.”
“It won't strangle you.”
“How do you know?”
Polly didn't.
Joey adjusted the strap.
“If this thing flies off and hits somebody, I'm blaming
Davis.”
“Why Davis?”
“He's the principal.”
“That doesn't make it his fault.”
“He's in charge.”
Polly smiled.
Joey looked at herself again.
She looked ridiculous.
Everybody looked ridiculous.
That made it better.
She grabbed the microphone.
Time to work.
Being emcee sounded considerably more important than it was.
Joey wandered through the carnival.
Keisha wandered with her.
Joey held the microphone.
Keisha held absolutely nothing.
She was there for moral support.
Joey appreciated this considerably.
“Are you enjoying homecoming?”
The man Joey had ambushed looked at her.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Joey waited.
The man waited.
Keisha waited.
Joey realized she was supposed to do something else.
“Excellent interview.”
Keisha laughed.
Joey turned towards the crowd.
“You heard it here first. He is enjoying homecoming.”
The man walked away.
Keisha leaned towards her.
“Professional.”
“Shut up.”
Joey continued.
“Don't forget we've got games all over the grounds. You can
shoot deer, throw things at deer, knock over deer…”
She looked around.
“Probably insult deer somewhere.”
Keisha pointed towards the mosasaur tanks.
“You can feed deer to giant sea monsters.”
“Dead deer.”
“Important distinction.”
“Very.”
Joey reached into the bag hanging from her shoulder.
She pulled out a flyer.
“...and Miller's Hardware has fifteen percent off garden
supplies this weekend.”
She handed it to a passing woman.
The woman took it.
Joey looked at Keisha.
“I feel important.”
“You're advertising shovels.”
“Fifteen percent off.”
“Very important shovels.”
Joey smiled.
Keisha smiled back.
That was still happening.
A lot.
Joey liked it.
Girlfriend.
Her girlfriend.
She still hadn't gotten used to that.
Keisha bumped gently against her.
Joey bumped back.
Neither noticed Polly watching them.
At first.
Polly had been talking with another cheerleader.
She wasn't anymore.
Her attention had drifted.
To Joey.
Then Keisha.
Then Joey again.
They were standing close.
Very close.
Closer than Joey usually stood with people.
Keisha said something.
Joey laughed.
Then Joey touched Keisha's arm.
Polly felt something unpleasant.
She didn't know what it was.
Actually, she did.
She didn't want to know what it was.
Jealousy.
Polly looked away.
Stupid.
She looked back.
Joey was handing somebody another flyer.
Keisha was smiling at her.
Polly didn't like that.
Why didn't she like that?
Keisha was Joey's friend.
Polly was Joey's friend.
Joey could have more than one friend.
Obviously.
Polly watched Joey again.
Red hair.
Deerstalker hat.
Microphone.
That stupid smile.
Polly loved that smile.
She froze.
No.
Not loved.
Liked.
She liked Joey's smile.
She liked Joey.
Everybody liked Joey.
Well, not everybody.
...but Polly did.
A lot.
She liked hugging her.
She liked wrapping her arms around Joey's waist.
She liked putting her head against hers.
She liked sitting close.
She liked how Joey smelled.
Polly stopped.
Oh.
No.
No, no, no.
She looked at Keisha.
Then Joey.
Then Keisha.
Oh.
Polly's stomach tightened.
Her parents would kill her.
Not actually.
Probably.
That wasn't particularly reassuring.
They had told her enough times.
Homosexuality was a sin.
The Church taught that.
Her parents taught that.
Polly knew that.
She had always known that.
She remembered asking Joey.
Are you a lesbian?
She remembered what she'd said afterward.
I don't know what I'd do if you really were one.
At the time, Polly hadn't understood why she'd even asked.
Now she wondered.
Joey laughed again.
Keisha leaned against her.
Polly felt another stab of jealousy.
She wanted Keisha to move.
She wanted to be standing there.
She wanted Joey laughing with her.
She wanted Joey looking at her that way.
She wanted-
Polly swallowed.
Joey.
She wanted Joey.
For herself.
That thought scared her more than anything else.
Polly looked away.
She couldn't think this.
She wasn't supposed to think this.
She definitely wasn't supposed to want this.
Her parents-
Her church-
God-
Polly closed her eyes.
Then another thought came.
A considerably stupider one.
If I can't have Joey, nobody can.
Polly opened her eyes.
She looked dramatically towards Joey and Keisha.
I'll destroy Joey.
She narrowed her eyes.
I'll destroy Keisha too.
Polly held the expression.
For about two seconds.
Then she felt ridiculous.
What was she going to do?
Tie them to train tracks?
Grow a moustache so she could twirl it?
She wasn't a Hollywood villain.
Polly sighed.
That was stupid.
More importantly, she didn't want to destroy Joey.
The idea of hurting Joey made her feel sick.
Keisha too.
She didn't hate Keisha.
She was jealous of her.
Those were different things.
Polly looked at them again.
Her parents had taught her homosexuality was a sin.
Incessantly.
They'd taught her something else incessantly too.
Jesus loved everyone.
Everyone.
No conditions.
Polly stared at Joey.
That part seemed considerably more useful right now.
If Jesus could manage it, Polly figured she could at least
try.
She loved Joey.
There.
She'd thought it.
She loved Joey.
She didn't know exactly what that meant yet.
She didn't know what she was supposed to do about it.
She didn't know what her parents would say.
She didn't know what God would say.
She wasn't even completely sure what Joey and Keisha were.
Friends?
Something else?
Polly suspected something else.
Whatever they were, she didn't want to hurt them.
She wanted Joey happy.
Even if Joey was happy with Keisha.
That part hurt.
Polly would have to work on it.
She watched Keisha whisper something into Joey's ear.
Joey laughed.
Polly smiled despite herself.
Fine.
She would love Joey.
She would love Keisha too.
No conditions.
Polly hoped they would love her back.
Whatever that ended up meaning.
Joey stood at midfield.
Again.
The stadium was full.
Again.
The microphone was in her hand.
Again.
This time she knew what was coming.
Mostly.
Joey took a breath.
Then she began.
“This Great Western Land” carried through the stadium.
The crowd listened.
Joey sang.
The first time she'd done this, she'd been terrified.
Now she was just somewhat terrified.
Progress.
She reached the end.
The stadium erupted.
Joey smiled.
She didn't cry this time.
She'd gotten used to it.
A little.
Thousands of people cheering for her was still thousands of
people cheering for her.
She liked that.
A lot.
Joey waved.
The cheers grew louder.
Then something roared from somewhere beyond the stands.
Joey stopped.
She looked towards the mosasaur tanks.
For one wonderful moment, Joey imagined that the mosasaurs
were cheering too.
Then she thought better of it.
Probably not.
She waved again and left the field.
Thomas was in the stands.
This was wrong.
Football players were not supposed to be in the stands.
Football players were supposed to be on the field.
Paul Ritter disagreed.
Thomas had asked.
Repeatedly.
Ritter's answer remained the same.
No.
Not because Thomas wasn't cleared.
That argument had already been lost.
Ritter didn't even want him on the sideline.
One bad play near the boundary.
One player knocked out of bounds.
One collision.
One freshly healing ankle.
No.
So Thomas sat in the stands with his family and Chloe and
watched his teammates warm up without him.
Chloe sat on one side of him.
Bowie sat on the other.
Thomas suspected Coach Ritter had arranged this
deliberately.
Keep the injured quarterback surrounded by people who
wouldn't let him escape.
Jason looked over from beside Bowie.
“Nice having you with us.”
Thomas stared at the field.
“Yeah.”
“You're one of the regular people now.”
“Great.”
Jason smiled.
“Means you're cool.”
Thomas looked at him.
“How?”
“You're sitting with me.”
“That makes me less cool.”
Chloe laughed.
Kathy laughed too.
Jason looked offended.
“I was cool.”
“When?” Thomas asked.
“I still am.”
Thomas looked at his mother.
“Was Dad ever cool?”
“No.”
Jason stared at her.
“Wow.”
Bowie tugged Thomas' sleeve.
“I'm happy you're here.”
Thomas looked down.
Bowie smiled at him.
“I like sitting with you.”
Thomas stopped.
That was different.
There was no joke.
No teasing.
Bowie was just happy his brother was sitting beside him.
Thomas smiled.
“Thanks.”
Bowie leaned against him.
Thomas put an arm around him.
Chloe leaned against his other side.
Thomas looked at her.
“You too?”
“I like sitting with you.”
Thomas smiled.
Maybe the stands weren't completely terrible.
Almost.
The game was completely terrible.
Crestview had known it would be difficult.
Fifteen players had been suspended following the Christ the
Savior brawl.
Others had been injured.
Not all in the brawl.
Not all seriously.
Serious enough.
By the time Deer Lake arrived, Paul Ritter's roster looked
considerably different from the one he'd expected to have when the season
began.
Wayne Calder stood beside him.
He looked at the field.
Then at the players standing behind them.
Then back at the field.
“You're being too cautious.”
Ritter didn't look at him.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“We've got kids sitting who could play.”
“We've got kids sitting who aren't healthy enough to play.”
“According to you.”
“According to people with medical degrees.”
Calder sighed.
“Tommy can walk.”
Ritter finally looked at him.
“We already did this.”
“He's sitting in the stands.”
“Yes.”
“He walked there.”
“Yes.”
“He could be down here.”
“No.”
Calder shook his head.
“You're too cautious.”
Ritter looked back at the field.
“Maybe.”
Calder hadn't expected that.
Ritter continued.
“I'm still not wrecking a kid's life for one football game.”
“I'm not saying wreck anybody's life.”
“Good. Then we're in agreement.”
“We're not.”
“I noticed.”
The whistle blew.
Both men turned back towards the field.
There were more immediate problems.
Many more.
Bobby Munson was playing quarterback.
Again.
Paul Ritter had hoped not to reach this point.
He had reached this point.
Jensen was unavailable.
Thomas was unavailable.
The roster was decimated.
Ritter needed a quarterback.
Bobby had played quarterback before.
Technically.
That was about the nicest way Ritter could put it.
Bobby took the snap.
Dropped back.
Looked deep.
Ritter's eyes widened.
“No.”
Bobby threw.
Ritter closed his eyes.
The ball sailed downfield.
...and downfield.
...and-
Short.
A Deer Lake defender intercepted it.
Calder looked at Ritter.
Ritter opened his eyes.
“Did he do it again?”
“Yes.”
Ritter sighed.
Bobby had one particular problem.
He loved deep throws.
Bobby did not possess a deep-throwing arm.
These two facts had never become acquainted.
Ritter had tried.
Many times.
Bobby remained convinced that if he simply threw hard
enough, physics would eventually apologize.
It hadn't.
Thomas watched from the stands.
He leaned forward.
“No.”
Bobby dropped back again.
Thomas saw it immediately.
“Don't.”
Bobby looked deep.
“Don't do it.”
Bobby threw.
Thomas stood.
“BOBBY!”
The pass fell incomplete.
Thomas threw his arms up.
Jason looked at him.
“Sit down.”
“He can't make that throw!”
“I'm sure Coach Ritter knows.”
“Everybody knows!”
Bowie looked at the field.
“Why doesn't Bobby know?”
Thomas stared at his little brother.
“Exactly.”
He sat back down.
Then immediately leaned forward again.
Watching Bobby play quarterback was hurting Thomas more than
his ankle.
Somehow, Crestview survived.
Barely.
The defense kept dragging them back into the game.
The offense kept trying to leave it.
Bobby took another snap.
Ritter watched.
Calder watched.
Thomas watched from the stands.
Bobby looked deep.
All three men had approximately the same thought.
Don't.
Bobby threw.
The Deer Lake defender stepped in front of the receiver.
Intercepted.
...and ran.
Thomas stood.
“No!”
The defender crossed midfield.
Ritter took off his hat.
The defender passed the forty.
Calder put his hands on his hips.
The thirty.
Thomas was yelling something nobody around him understood.
The twenty.
Ritter rubbed his forehead.
The ten.
Touchdown.
Deer Lake.
The homecoming crowd groaned.
Thomas dropped back into his seat.
He stared at the field.
“I could play better than this with one leg.”
Kathy looked at him.
“Thomas.”
“I could.”
Jason didn't answer.
Which Thomas considered agreement.
Chloe gave him the side eye.
“What?”
“Just because you could doesn’t mean you should.”
“Oh come on.”
On the sideline, Calder had reached his limit.
“That's it.”
Ritter looked at him.
“What?”
“I'm getting Tommy.”
“No.”
“He's right there.”
“No.”
Calder pointed towards the stands.
“He can walk.”
“Wayne.”
“We need a quarterback.”
“We have a quarterback.”
“We have Bobby.”
Ritter looked at the field.
That was becoming increasingly difficult to dispute.
Calder started walking.
Ritter grabbed his arm.
“No.”
Calder turned.
“Paul.”
“No.”
“He wants to play.”
“I know.”
“He can walk.”
“I know.”
“The doctor said two more weeks. That's a recommendation.”
“No, it's not.”
Calder stared at him.
Ritter stared back.
“He isn't cleared.”
“We're getting killed.”
“So?”
Calder stopped.
Ritter stepped closer.
“So we lose.”
Calder looked at him.
Ritter pointed towards the field.
“I am not risking that kid's ankle because we're losing a
football game.”
Calder sighed.
“Paul-”
“No.”
Calder looked towards the stands.
Thomas was already watching them.
He knew.
He could see Calder pointing.
Thomas stood.
He pointed at himself.
Me?
Calder nodded.
Thomas' eyes widened.
“Yes!”
He started moving.
Ritter saw him.
He immediately shook his head.
Thomas kept moving.
Chloe then grabbed his arm.
Thomas stopped.
Ritter pointed at the seat.
Sit.
Thomas stared.
Ritter pointed again.
Thomas looked at Calder.
Calder shrugged.
Thomas looked back at Ritter.
Ritter pointed.
Thomas slowly sat.
“This is bulls***.”
Kathy looked at him.
“Language.”
“Sorry.”
Bowie looked at him.
“What's bulls***?”
“Nothing.”
“What does bulls*** mean?”
“Nothing.”
Jason smiled.
Kathy glared at him.
Jason stopped smiling.
On the sideline, Ritter turned away from the stands.
He looked down the bench.
There had to be somebody.
Anybody.
His eyes stopped.
The punter sat several places away.
Ritter stared at him.
The punter noticed.
Their eyes met.
The punter looked concerned.
Ritter looked away.
Not yet.
Joey had discovered something wonderful about cheerleading.
Occasionally, they let you stop.
She stood in one of the stadium hallways.
No microphone.
No flyers.
No backflips.
No deerstalker hat threatening to strangle her.
Just quiet.
Relative quiet.
She could still hear the crowd outside.
Joey watched the game through an opening.
Bobby threw another pass.
Joey winced.
“Tommy must be dying.”
Arms wrapped around her waist.
Joey jumped.
“By Jove!”
Polly rested her chin against Joey's shoulder.
“Hi.”
Joey relaxed.
“Hi.”
Polly held her.
Normally Joey wouldn't have thought much about it.
Polly did this all the time.
Now Joey knew something Polly didn't.
Keisha was her girlfriend.
Joey suddenly wondered whether this was something she should
explain.
Polly solved that problem first.
“Can I ask you something?”
Joey looked down at the arms around her.
Apparently today was the day everybody asked everybody
something.
“Okay.”
Polly didn't let go.
“About before.”
Joey waited.
“When I asked if you were a lesbian.”
Joey stiffened.
Polly felt it.
“I'm sorry.”
Joey turned slightly.
“What?”
“I shouldn't have said that.”
“Which part?”
Polly knew exactly which part.
“That I wouldn't know what I'd do if you were.”
Joey looked at her.
Polly finally released her.
They turned towards each other.
“I've been thinking about it.”
Joey didn't know whether that was good.
Polly looked down.
“A lot.”
“Okay.”
Polly rubbed her hands together.
“I think…”
She stopped.
Joey waited.
Polly looked towards the hallway.
Nobody else was there.
She lowered her voice anyway.
“I think maybe I'm one too.”
Joey blinked.
“A lesbian?”
Polly nodded.
“Maybe.”
Joey stared at her.
Polly immediately became nervous.
“Don't look at me like that.”
“I'm not looking at you any way.”
“You are.”
“I'm surprised.”
“So am I.”
Joey almost laughed.
Polly didn't.
Joey stopped.
“Sorry.”
“No. It's…”
Polly sighed.
“I don't know.”
Joey understood that considerably better than Polly probably
realized.
“Yeah.”
Polly looked at her.
“Are you?”
Joey froze.
She could lie again.
She didn't want to.
Not anymore.
“Yeah.”
Polly breathed out.
Joey watched her.
Polly didn't move away.
That mattered.
Then Polly asked the question Joey suspected had been
coming.
“Is Keisha your girlfriend?”
Joey swallowed.
“Yes.”
Polly frowned.
Joey's stomach dropped.
“Oh.”
Polly looked down.
Joey waited.
This was the part she'd feared.
Polly looked back up.
“Can I be your girlfriend too?”
Joey stared at her.
“What?”
“Can I be your girlfriend too?”
Joey continued staring.
Polly immediately regretted everything.
“Never mind.”
“No.”
Polly's face fell.
“I mean, don't never mind.”
Polly looked confused.
Joey was also confused.
Very confused.
Nobody had prepared her for this.
There were books about dating.
There were magazines.
Advice columns.
Television shows.
Movies.
Adults who gave advice whether anybody wanted it or not.
Boy meets girl.
Girl meets boy.
Boy asks girl out.
Girl asks boy out.
Everybody had an opinion.
Where was the book for this?
Your Girlfriend Has Asked If Another Girl Can Also Be
Your Girlfriend.
Joey had never seen that one.
Maybe it existed.
Probably somewhere very far from Provo.
Polly watched her.
Joey thought.
She liked Polly.
A lot.
She loved being close to her.
She loved hugging her.
She had wondered about Polly before.
...but Keisha was her girlfriend.
Her brand-new girlfriend.
Her girlfriend of approximately one day.
Joey couldn't just decide this by herself.
“I don't know.”
Polly looked down.
Joey reached for her hand.
Polly looked back up.
“That's not a no.”
“It isn't?”
“No.”
Polly's eyes brightened slightly.
Joey squeezed her hand.
“I have to talk to Keisha.”
“Oh.”
“She's my girlfriend.”
“Yeah.”
“So…”
Joey shrugged.
“I think she gets a vote.”
Polly nodded.
“That makes sense.”
“A really big vote.”
“Yeah.”
Joey thought about Keisha.
Then Polly.
Then both of them.
This was going to be an interesting conversation.
She smiled slightly.
“I'm hopeful.”
Polly stared at her.
“You are?”
“Yeah.”
Polly smiled.
A huge smile.
Then she threw her arms around Joey.
Joey hugged her back.
Polly squeezed.
Hard.
Joey laughed.
“Can't breathe.”
“Sorry.”
Polly loosened her grip.
She didn't let go.
Outside, the crowd groaned again.
Joey looked towards the field.
“Bobby?”
“Probably.”
Neither girl moved.
For the moment, Crestview's quarterback problem could wait.
Joey had discovered a considerably more complicated
formation.
Halftime brought the return of The Impossible Question.
Joey stood in the middle of the field with her microphone.
Her deerstalker hat had survived the first half.
Somehow.
She had survived the first half too.
Barely.
She looked towards the scoreboard.
Then decided not to.
“Okay!”
The crowd quieted.
Somewhat.
“It's time for The Impossible Question!”
The crowd cheered.
Joey smiled.
“Tonight's contestant is…”
She looked at the card.
Then stopped.
She looked towards the contestant.
Then back at the card.
“Oh.”
The crowd noticed.
Joey sighed.
“...from Deer Lake.”
The stadium erupted in boos.
The Deer Lake student raised both arms.
The boos grew louder.
Joey held up her hand.
“Hey!”
More boos.
“Be nice!”
Someone shouted something Joey couldn't hear.
“Or don't.”
The Deer Lake student reached Joey.
He was smiling.
Far too confidently.
Joey looked at him.
“What's your name?”
He told her.
The crowd booed his name too.
Joey almost felt sorry for him.
Almost.
“You ready?”
“Yeah.”
“You know how this works?”
“Answer the questions.”
“Basically.”
He looked at her.
Then smiled.
“If I win, will you go out with me?”
The crowd reacted immediately.
Loudly.
Joey stared at him.
She wanted to groan.
She desperately wanted to groan.
She remembered she had a microphone.
Thousands of people were watching.
She smiled instead.
“We'll see if you win.”
The crowd cheered.
The boy grinned.
“Deal.”
Joey hadn't said deal.
She let it go.
“First question.”
She read it.
The boy stared at her.
Joey waited.
He guessed.
Wrong.
The crowd exploded.
Joey tried not to smile.
“Incorrect.”
Second question.
Wrong.
The crowd got louder.
Third question.
Very wrong.
Joey lowered the card.
The Deer Lake student stared at the ground.
The Crestview crowd was ecstatic.
Joey looked at him.
He looked at Joey.
She gave him a death glare.
He understood.
Immediately.
The boy sheepishly walked back towards the Deer Lake stands.
The crowd cheered him all the way.
Joey watched him disappear.
Then looked towards the Crestview stands.
“At least we beat Deer Lake at something tonight.”
That got one of the biggest cheers of halftime.
The third quarter was different.
Not good.
Different.
Crestview was down 22-9.
That wasn't impossible.
Paul Ritter stared at the scoreboard.
Then at his offense.
Then at Cal Norstrom.
There was still a football game here.
Somewhere.
Ritter intended to find it.
Cal got the ball.
Then Cal got the ball again.
Then again.
Deer Lake knew what was happening.
It didn't seem to matter.
Cal ran between the tackles.
Cal bounced outside.
Cal caught a short pass.
Then Cal ran again.
Crestview moved.
The crowd noticed.
The noise returned.
Thomas noticed too.
He was standing now.
“Again!”
Kathy looked at him.
“You know they can't hear you.”
“CAL AGAIN!”
Kathy gave up.
On the field, Bobby Munson handed the ball to Cal.
Again.
Cal gained eight.
Bobby looked towards the sideline.
Ritter signalled the next play.
Another run.
Bobby frowned.
He wanted to throw.
Ritter did not want Bobby to throw.
These positions were becoming increasingly incompatible.
Cal took another handoff.
First down.
The crowd roared.
Bobby walked back to the huddle.
He wasn't happy.
Cal was.
Ritter was.
Thomas was.
Wayne Calder was even willing to stop complaining for
several minutes.
Crestview crossed midfield.
Then the forty.
Then the thirty.
Cal kept running.
Deer Lake kept failing to stop him.
Thomas couldn't sit anymore.
“They're gonna score.”
Jason nodded.
“They might.”
“They are.”
“You said Bobby was terrible.”
“He hasn't thrown!”
Jason considered this.
“Good point.”
Crestview reached the red zone.
Then the ten.
The crowd stood.
First and goal.
Ritter sent in the play.
Run.
Obviously.
Bobby entered the huddle.
Called the play.
Then looked at the defense.
Three defenders crowded the middle.
Another crept towards the line.
Bobby stared.
He saw something.
Or thought he did.
He changed the play.
Ritter noticed.
“What is he doing?”
Calder looked.
“Oh, no.”
Thomas saw it too.
“No.”
Bobby dropped back.
Thomas put both hands on his head.
“No, no, no.”
Bobby looked towards the middle.
Three Deer Lake defenders were there.
Bobby threw anyway.
Ritter closed his eyes.
Thomas didn't.
He wished he had.
The ball didn't have enough on it.
It never had enough on it.
A Deer Lake defender stepped in front.
Intercepted.
For one second, the stadium went silent.
Then the defender ran.
Ritter opened his eyes.
“Oh, by Jove.”
The defender crossed the twenty.
The thirty.
The forty.
Thomas stared.
“No.”
Midfield.
Calder took off his cap.
The forty.
The thirty.
Bobby chased.
Not fast enough.
The twenty.
Thomas slowly sat down.
The ten.
Touchdown.
Deer Lake.
The visiting stands erupted.
The Crestview stands did not.
Ritter stared across the field.
First and goal.
He had called a run.
Bobby had changed it.
Into that.
Calder looked at him.
Ritter said nothing.
Calder said nothing.
There was really nothing left to say.
Joey was in the bathroom.
Alone.
This was becoming one of her favourite places in the
stadium.
Nobody wanted her to sing.
Nobody wanted her to cheer.
Nobody wanted her to advertise discounted garden supplies.
Nobody wanted her to ask impossible questions.
Nobody wanted anything.
The door opened.
Joey looked over.
Keisha walked in.
She had a grin on her face.
Joey stared at her.
“What?”
Keisha leaned against the door.
“Nothing.”
“Why are you smiling?”
“Your boyfriend.”
Joey frowned.
“What boyfriend?”
“The Deer Lake guy.”
Joey gave her the same death glare she'd given him.
Keisha laughed.
“He was cute.”
“Go out with him.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I've got a girlfriend.”
Joey's expression softened.
“Oh.”
Keisha smiled.
Joey smiled too.
Girlfriend.
Still good.
Then Joey remembered something.
Her smile disappeared.
Keisha noticed.
“What?”
“I need to ask you something.”
Keisha stared at her.
“You've been my girlfriend for one day and you're already
saying that.”
“It's important.”
“That makes it worse.”
Joey took a breath.
“Polly asked if she can be my girlfriend.”
Keisha blinked.
Joey waited.
Keisha thought.
For approximately one second.
“Sure.”
Joey stared at her.
“What?”
“Sure.”
“That's it?”
Keisha shrugged.
“Yeah.”
“You don't want to think about it?”
“I did.”
“For one second.”
“Didn't need two.”
Joey stared.
Keisha smiled.
“You want her to?”
Joey hesitated.
Then nodded.
“Yeah.”
“I like Polly.”
“So you're okay with it?”
“Sure.”
Joey leaned against the sink.
“That was way easier than I thought.”
Keisha laughed.
“I have no idea how any of this works.”
Joey looked at her.
“Neither do I.”
“Good.”
“Why is that good?”
“Because I'd feel stupid if you knew.”
Joey smiled.
Keisha walked closer.
“Seriously. How many lesbians do you know?”
Joey thought.
“You.”
“Exactly.”
“You know me.”
“Exactly.”
Joey understood.
Keisha continued.
“It's hard enough finding another lesbian in the first
place.”
She gestured vaguely around them.
“Especially in the capital of Jesusland.”
Joey laughed.
“Don't let Sister Hazel hear you say that.”
“She'll whip me.”
Joey stared.
Keisha smiled.
Joey shook her head.
“Don't.”
“Sorry.”
Keisha leaned against the sink beside her.
“I don't want to leave Polly out.”
Joey looked at her.
“Really?”
“Really.”
Keisha shrugged.
“I like her.”
“So…”
Joey thought about the situation.
“You'd be her girlfriend too?”
Keisha thought.
“I guess.”
“You guess?”
“I told you I don't know how any of this works.”
“Neither do I.”
“Then we'll figure it out.”
“How?”
Keisha shrugged.
“Somehow.”
Joey considered that.
There were probably rules.
There were probably problems.
There were probably things none of them had even thought
about.
Jealousy.
Parents.
School.
The cheerleaders.
Who kissed who.
Who went where with who.
Whether three girlfriends was even something people did.
Joey had absolutely no idea.
Neither did Keisha.
Polly definitely didn't.
Joey smiled.
“Somehow.”
Keisha nodded.
“Somehow.”
Joey reached for her hand.
Keisha took it.
They stood together in the empty bathroom.
Three girls.
Three girlfriends.
Probably.
Eventually.
Maybe.
Joey had no idea what they were doing.
For once, that didn't scare her very much.
Paul Ritter had seen enough.
Bobby Munson came off the field.
Ritter met him.
“What was the play?”
Bobby didn't answer.
“What was the play?”
“Run.”
“What did you do?”
“I thought I had-”
“What was the play?”
Bobby looked down.
“Run.”
Ritter nodded.
“Sit down.”
Bobby stared at him.
“Coach-”
“Sit.”
Bobby sat.
Ritter turned.
His eyes found the punter.
The punter noticed.
Again.
This time Ritter didn't look away.
“Get over here.”
The punter approached cautiously.
“Coach?”
“You ever played quarterback?”
“No.”
Ritter nodded.
“Good.”
The punter stared at him.
Ritter continued.
“I'm going to tell you what to do.”
“Okay.”
“You're going to do it.”
“Okay.”
“You're not going to decide you know better.”
“No.”
“You're not going to change the play.”
“No.”
“You're not going to throw the ball forty yards because you
suddenly discover an arm you don't have.”
The punter looked towards Bobby.
Bobby looked away.
“No.”
Ritter nodded.
“You're my quarterback.”
The punter stared at him.
“Okay.”
That was precisely the answer Ritter wanted.
The fourth quarter began.
Crestview had a new quarterback.
Technically.
Thomas stared from the stands.
“Is that the punter?”
Jason squinted.
“I think so.”
“That's the punter.”
Bowie looked confused.
“Why's the punter playing quarterback?”
Thomas stared towards the sideline.
“Because Bobby's Bobby.”
That apparently explained enough.
The punter took the snap.
Turned.
Handed the ball to Cal.
Cal ran.
Seven yards.
Next play.
Snap.
Turn.
Handoff.
Cal.
Five yards.
First down.
The punter returned to the huddle.
He did not complain.
He did not suggest throwing deep.
He did not audible.
He did not discover anything interesting in the defense.
He received another play from Ritter.
He ran it.
Cal got the ball.
Again.
...and again.
...and again.
Deer Lake knew Cal was getting the ball.
Everybody in the stadium knew Cal was getting the ball.
Bowie knew Cal was getting the ball.
“Cal's getting it again.”
Thomas nodded.
“Yeah.”
Cal got it again.
He gained nine yards.
Thomas stood.
“How are they not stopping this?”
Jason shrugged.
“Maybe they think eventually you'll do something else.”
“They're not doing anything else.”
They weren't.
Cal ran left.
Cal ran right.
Cal ran up the middle.
Cal ran through one defender.
Then another.
Then dragged a third for several more yards.
Wayne Calder stared.
“Where was this all night?”
Ritter didn't answer.
He was wondering the same thing.
Crestview reached the goal line.
The punter took the snap.
Turned.
Handed it to Cal.
Of course.
Cal lowered his shoulder.
Hit the pile.
The pile moved.
Touchdown.
The stadium erupted.
Thomas jumped.
Bowie jumped because Thomas jumped.
Jason jumped because everybody else was jumping.
Kathy stood.
The scoreboard changed.
29-16.
Thomas stared at it.
Thirteen points.
Still possible.
Barely.
Ritter didn't hesitate.
“Onside.”
Calder looked at him.
“Already?”
“We need the ball.”
The kickoff team ran onto the field.
Deer Lake prepared.
Thomas leaned forward.
“Oh.”
Jason looked at him.
“What?”
“Onside kick.”
The ball was kicked.
It bounced.
Once.
Twice.
A Deer Lake player reached for it.
Missed.
Another tried to grab it.
The ball bounced off his hands.
Three players converged.
Nobody seemed interested in actually possessing the
football.
Then a Crestview player dove into the mess.
Bodies piled on top of him.
The official ran in.
The crowd waited.
Thomas was standing again.
“Come on.”
The officials pulled players away.
One pointed.
Crestview ball.
The stadium exploded.
Thomas screamed.
Bowie screamed.
Jason screamed.
Kathy screamed.
Even Ritter looked surprised.
Calder slapped him on the back.
“It worked!”
“I saw.”
“You look shocked.”
“I am.”
Ritter looked towards Deer Lake.
“Thank you.”
There was one problem.
Crestview needed points.
Fast.
Running Cal over and over again had produced points.
It had not produced them quickly.
Ritter looked at the clock.
Then his play sheet.
Then the field.
He needed something else.
He hated needing something else.
The punter came over.
Ritter pointed at him.
“You can throw a short pass?”
“Yes.”
Ritter narrowed his eyes.
“How short?”
“Short.”
“Good answer.”
Crestview went back out.
The first play was a jet sweep.
It worked.
The next was an end around.
That worked too.
The crowd came alive.
Then a reverse.
Deer Lake wasn't fooled.
Two-yard loss.
Ritter grimaced.
Next play.
The punter dropped back.
Thomas held his breath.
The pass went five yards.
Complete.
Thomas blinked.
“Okay.”
Jason looked at him.
“What?”
“He threw it to somebody he could actually reach.”
Ritter tried another short pass.
Incomplete.
Another sweep.
Three yards.
Suddenly the offense stopped moving.
The clock didn't.
Ritter stared at it.
This wasn't working.
Calder looked at him.
“Cal.”
Ritter nodded.
“Cal.”
So Crestview went back to the one thing Deer Lake
inexplicably couldn't stop.
Cal Norstrom.
Handoff.
Six yards.
Handoff.
Eleven.
Handoff.
Eight.
Deer Lake crowded the line.
Cal ran through them anyway.
Thomas stared.
“They know he's getting it.”
Jason nodded.
“They definitely know.”
“How are they not tackling him?”
Jason didn't know.
Nobody knew.
Possibly Deer Lake didn't know.
Cal took another handoff.
He broke one tackle.
Then another.
Then another.
Thomas shouted.
“GO!”
Cal crossed midfield.
The clock kept moving.
That was the problem.
Every successful run brought Crestview closer to the end
zone.
Every successful run brought Crestview closer to the end of
the game.
Ritter wanted yards.
Ritter wanted the clock to stop.
Football refused to give him both.
Cal ran again.
First down.
The chains moved.
The clock moved.
Crestview hurried.
The punter got everyone lined up.
Snap.
Handoff.
Cal.
Again.
Again.
Again.
The crowd was roaring now.
Not because Crestview was likely to win.
Because somehow they still hadn't lost.
Not quite.
Cal reached the ten.
The clock kept falling.
Thomas watched it.
“No.”
The offense scrambled back to the line.
Five.
Fourteen seconds.
Snap.
The punter turned.
Cal took the ball.
He ran.
One defender hit him.
Cal kept going.
Another grabbed him.
Cal dragged him.
The goal line approached.
Cal fell forward.
Touchdown.
The stadium erupted.
Thomas looked immediately at the clock.
Ten seconds.
Ten.
That was all.
The score changed.
29-22.
Ritter didn't bother considering the extra point.
Two.
They needed two.
The offense stayed on the field.
Thomas could barely watch.
The punter took the snap.
Cal moved.
Every Deer Lake defender moved with him.
The punter kept the ball.
For once.
He rolled.
A receiver slipped free.
The punter threw.
Short.
Exactly as instructed.
Caught.
Two points.
29-24.
The crowd exploded again.
Thomas screamed.
Bowie screamed beside him.
Jason grabbed Thomas by the shoulders.
“They're still alive!”
Thomas looked at the scoreboard.
29-24.
Ten seconds.
He knew what had to happen.
Everybody knew.
Ritter knew.
Calder knew.
Deer Lake knew.
The entire stadium knew.
Another onside kick.
Then somehow-
Somehow-
Crestview needed a touchdown.
In ten seconds.
Thomas stared at the field.
This wasn't difficult anymore.
This was impossible.
Ten seconds.
Joey knew enough about football to understand that wasn't
very much.
Polly knew enough too.
The two of them stood with the other cheerleaders near the
field.
“COME ON!”
Joey waved her arms.
The Crestview crowd responded.
Polly jumped beside her.
“LOUDER!”
The crowd got louder.
Joey had no idea whether this actually helped.
It felt like it helped.
That was enough.
Ten seconds.
29-24.
One more onside kick.
One more miracle.
Then another miracle after that.
Joey looked at Polly.
Polly looked at Joey.
“Think they'll get it?”
“No.”
“Me neither.”
They turned back towards the field.
“COME ON!”
The kicker approached.
The ball flew.
It hit the ground.
Bounced.
Once.
Twice.
Joey's eyes widened.
It was a good kick.
For one second, maybe-
The ball bounced directly towards a Deer Lake player.
He dropped onto it.
Covered it.
The officials pointed.
Deer Lake ball.
The stadium groaned.
Joey dropped her arms.
“Oh.”
Polly sighed.
“So close.”
People immediately began heading towards the exits.
In the stands, Thomas slumped.
“No.”
Jason put a hand on his shoulder.
“Hell of a comeback.”
“They lost.”
“They haven't technically lost yet.”
Thomas stared at him.
“Dad.”
Jason shrugged.
“Technically.”
Bowie looked at the field.
“Can they still win?”
Thomas looked at the clock.
Ten seconds.
Deer Lake ball.
All they had to do was snap it.
Kneel down.
Game over.
“No.”
Bowie frowned.
Thomas immediately felt bad.
“Sorry.”
“It's okay.”
Thomas looked back towards the field.
Deer Lake lined up.
Everybody knew the play.
Ritter knew.
Calder knew.
Thomas knew.
The Crestview defense knew.
The Deer Lake cheerleaders knew.
Probably the mosasaurs knew.
Snap.
Kneel.
Homecoming over.
The Deer Lake quarterback moved under center.
The crowd was already emptying.
Thomas remained seated.
He wanted to see the end.
The center put his hands on the ball.
The quarterback waited.
The center snapped.
Except he didn't.
Not properly.
The ball launched backwards.
Over the quarterback's head.
Thomas stood.
“What?”
The quarterback spun around.
The ball bounced.
Once.
Twice.
Three Crestview defenders charged towards it.
The Deer Lake quarterback scrambled after them.
The crowd noticed.
People stopped leaving.
Someone screamed.
Then everyone screamed.
Wagner Cosgrove reached the ball first.
The Crestview safety scooped it up.
He looked ahead.
Nothing.
Just open field.
“GO!”
Thomas screamed.
Wagner ran.
The Deer Lake quarterback chased him.
He wasn't catching him.
The Crestview sideline exploded.
Ritter's mouth fell open.
Calder grabbed him.
“GO!”
Wagner crossed the twenty.
The ten.
Five.
End zone.
Touchdown.
For one second, nobody seemed to understand what had
happened.
Then Crestview exploded.
Thomas jumped.
“YES!”
Pain shot through his ankle.
Thomas immediately stopped jumping.
“OW!”
Kathy grabbed him.
“Thomas!”
“I'm fine!”
“You're not jumping!”
“I forgot!”
Jason was screaming.
Bowie was screaming.
Everybody was screaming.
On the field, Wagner was screaming too.
He raised the football.
Then, overcome with the sort of judgment people occasionally
displayed immediately after scoring the winning touchdown, threw it into the
stands.
The ball flew towards the Rydells.
Bowie's eyes widened.
“BALL!”
He reached.
The football passed directly over his hands.
“No!”
It landed several rows behind them.
A Deer Lake student caught it.
Bowie stared.
His face collapsed.
“No!”
Thomas looked back.
The Deer Lake student held the football.
Bowie's eyes filled.
“That was mine!”
“It wasn't technically-”
Jason stopped.
Wrong time.
Bowie started crying.
Chloe stood.
She looked at Bowie.
Then at the Deer Lake student.
Then started climbing through the row.
Thomas watched her.
“Chloe?”
She didn't stop.
The Deer Lake student looked down at the football.
Then up.
Chloe reached him.
“That belongs to him.”
The student stared at her.
“What?”
She pointed at Bowie.
The four-year-old was crying.
The student looked at him.
Then at the ball.
“I caught it.”
Chloe stared.
The student looked at her.
Chloe continued staring.
He looked at Bowie again.
Then at Chloe.
Then at the football.
He held it out.
“Fine.”
Chloe smiled.
“Thank you.”
She took the ball.
The student sat down.
Chloe returned.
Bowie saw the football.
His entire face changed.
“MY BALL!”
Chloe handed it to him.
Bowie hugged it against his chest.
Hard.
“Thank you!”
“You're welcome.”
Bowie stared at the ball like somebody had handed him buried
treasure.
Thomas looked at Chloe.
“You scared him.”
“No, I didn't.”
“You did.”
“He gave it back.”
“Because you scared him.”
Chloe sat beside him.
“Good.”
Thomas smiled.
On the field, Crestview lined up for the extra point.
Nobody cared.
The kick missed.
Nobody cared about that either.
30-29.
Crestview had won.
The field disappeared.
Students poured onto it.
Players screamed.
Coaches hugged players.
Players hugged coaches.
People hugged people they probably didn't know.
Paul Ritter stood in the middle of it.
Wayne Calder grabbed him.
“We won!”
“I noticed!”
“How?”
“I don't know!”
That was good enough.
Joey threw herself at Polly.
Polly caught her.
They hugged.
They jumped.
Joey's deerstalker hat finally lost its battle with gravity
and flew off.
Neither noticed.
“We won!”
“I KNOW!”
Joey pulled back.
Polly looked at her.
Joey looked at Polly.
They kissed.
Neither thought about it.
They just did.
Then they separated.
Joey stared at her.
Polly stared back.
“Oh.”
Joey smiled.
Polly smiled.
Then Joey's eyes widened.
“Keisha.”
Polly's smile disappeared.
“Oh.”
“We need Keisha.”
“Yes.”
They ran.
Keisha was found.
Eventually.
Joey grabbed her.
“We won!”
“I know!”
Joey hugged her.
Polly joined them.
Three people hugging at the same time was possible.
It was not graceful.
Joey had one arm around Keisha and one around Polly.
Polly somehow had an arm trapped between both of them.
Keisha's face was partially buried against Joey's shoulder.
“Can anybody move?”
“No.”
“I can't feel my arm.”
“Whose arm?”
“I don't know.”
They pulled apart.
Laughing.
Then they encountered the next problem.
Joey looked at Keisha.
Then Polly.
Polly looked at Keisha.
Keisha looked at Joey.
They had agreed they were going to try this.
None of them had considered the mechanics.
Joey frowned.
“How do three people kiss?”
Keisha stared.
Polly thought.
“...at once?”
“Yeah.”
They moved slightly closer.
Joey tilted her head.
Keisha tilted hers.
Polly tried to find somewhere to put her face.
They stopped.
“No.”
Keisha laughed.
“This doesn't work.”
“Maybe if-”
Polly moved.
Joey moved.
Their foreheads bumped.
“Ow.”
“Sorry.”
Keisha was laughing harder now.
Joey rubbed her forehead.
“This is stupid.”
“Just kiss me separately.”
Joey looked at Keisha.
“Oh.”
That was considerably easier.
Joey kissed Keisha.
Then Polly kissed Keisha.
Keisha smiled.
Polly looked at Joey.
Joey looked at Polly.
“We already did ours.”
“Yeah.”
Keisha stared at them.
“When?”
Joey and Polly exchanged a look.
“...after the touchdown.”
Keisha's mouth opened.
“You kissed without me?”
“It was exciting!”
Polly nodded.
“Very exciting.”
Keisha narrowed her eyes.
Joey immediately hugged her.
“Sorry.”
Keisha tried to remain annoyed.
She failed.
She laughed.
Polly joined the hug.
Once again, arms went everywhere.
Joey looked at them.
“We gotta sort all this stuff out.”
Keisha nodded.
“Definitely.”
Polly smiled.
“Later?”
“Later.”
Tonight was complicated enough.
Crestview did not go home.
Not immediately.
Nobody seemed interested.
The carnival continued.
The band continued.
People wandered through the streets around the school.
Car horns sounded.
Someone started another chant about Deer Lake.
Someone else had acquired a deer costume and was being
chased through the crowd by several people dressed as hunters.
Bowie still had the football.
He had not let go of it.
Not once.
Jason tried to look at it.
Bowie pulled it away.
“My ball.”
“I know.”
“You can't have it.”
“I wasn't taking it.”
“My ball.”
Jason looked at Kathy.
Kathy smiled.
“Don't touch his ball.”
“I wasn't.”
Bowie hugged it tighter.
Thomas walked beside them.
His ankle had settled down after his extremely brief attempt
at jumping.
He wasn't doing that again.
Probably.
He looked back towards the stadium.
He was glad he'd seen it.
He really was.
That might have been the craziest football game he'd ever
watched.
He still wished he'd played.
Chloe walked beside him.
She knew.
“You're doing it again.”
“What?”
“That face.”
“What face?”
“The one where you're happy but you're trying not to be.”
Thomas looked at her.
“I wanted to play.”
“I know.”
“I could've helped.”
“I know.”
“We probably wouldn't have been down that much if I played.”
Chloe thought about that.
“Maybe.”
Thomas frowned.
“Maybe?”
She smiled.
“Maybe if you played, the game wouldn't have been as
special.”
Thomas stared at her.
“How is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“You would've played better.”
Thomas stopped.
Chloe stopped too.
He thought.
“So…”
He pointed back towards the stadium.
“That whole insane comeback only happened because I wasn't
playing?”
Chloe thought.
“That's not exactly what I said.”
“...but if I played, we might've just won normally.”
“Maybe.”
Thomas smiled.
Chloe stared at him.
“You found a way to make that a compliment.”
“Yes.”
“I shouldn't be surprised.”
“No.”
Chloe kissed his cheek.
Thomas put an arm around her.
They continued walking.
Then they found Joey.
...and Keisha.
...and Polly.
All three were holding hands.
Sort of.
Joey was in the middle.
Thomas looked.
Then looked again.
Chloe noticed too.
“Oh.”
Joey smiled.
“We have news.”
Thomas looked at Keisha.
Then Polly.
Then Joey.
“What?”
Polly took a breath.
“We're girlfriends.”
Thomas nodded.
Then stopped.
“All of you?”
Keisha nodded.
“All of us.”
Chloe stared.
“So Joey's your girlfriend.”
“Yes.”
“...and Polly's your girlfriend.”
“Yes.”
“...and Keisha's Polly's girlfriend?”
The three girls looked at each other.
Polly nodded.
“I think so.”
Keisha laughed.
“Yes.”
Thomas stared.
“How does that work?”
“We don't know,” said Joey.
Chloe laughed.
“You don't know?”
“No.”
Keisha shrugged.
“We're gonna figure it out.”
Polly smiled.
“We're excited.”
Thomas considered this.
There were several questions he could ask.
A lot of questions.
Probably too many questions.
Then something behind them caused the crowd to erupt.
Everyone turned.
A boy had climbed onto one of the mosasaur tanks.
Thomas stared.
“What is he doing?”
Nobody knew.
The boy jumped.
Into the tank.
Everyone froze.
Joey's mouth fell open.
“Why would he do that?”
Keisha stared.
“I don't know.”
Polly grabbed Joey's arm.
“Is he allowed to do that?”
“No,” said Chloe.
Thomas stared at the water.
“Definitely not.”
People began running towards the tank.
Somebody screamed for Davis.
The crowd cheered anyway.
Nobody knew why.
Thomas looked at Chloe.
Chloe looked at Thomas.
Joey looked at Keisha.
Keisha looked at Polly.
Polly looked at the mosasaur tank.
There were questions.
A lot of them.
How three girlfriends worked.
What happened next.
What their parents would say.
What the cheerleaders would say.
Whether Thomas would be cleared in two weeks.
Whether Crestview could possibly have another game this
ridiculous.
Why somebody had just jumped into a mosasaur tank.
Those questions could wait.
Tonight, Crestview had beaten Deer Lake.
Bowie had a football.
Joey had two girlfriends.
Thomas still had two functioning ankles.
Mostly.
...and somebody was swimming with a mosasaur.
They could figure everything else out tomorrow.