at the crowded hall. “You’re not joking, are you? I mean, you know what I mean. You’re not punking me—nobody is filming this or anything?”
“No, silly,” she said. “Look, I like you. We’re not going out, but I like you, okay? I want to spend time with you. Are you getting the hint here?” Her fingers curled around my bicep.
“Oh, uh, yeah. Ah…”
While I struggled to remember a single word of my native language, the bell rang. Bethany pulled away from me. I shivered.
“You don’t have to pick me up or anything. I’ll be at the bonfire tonight, and then the game. See you there? If your dad doesn’t go off the deep end again, I mean.”
“Yeah, um–”
She was already gone, her ponytail bouncing down the hall.
43.
I was so desperate to make this night happen, I took the school bus home. The underclassmen stared at me like I had lost my mind. I nearly told them I had an almost-date with Bethany Milbury (I’ll see you tonight, right?), but that would have tempted fate, so I scowled at them instead.
I made it to my house at eight minutes to three. I had four hours before the bonfire started. Hannah had a game and Mom was shooting Labradors. Dad was the unpredictable one. I would make a preemptive strike.
The lawn hadn’t been mowed since the Night of the Roast Pork Migraine, and it showed. In fact, our entire yard looked trashy. It wasn’t just the overgrown grass or the dying marigolds or the scraggly boxwood bushes. It was the gutters where rotting leaves had spilled onto last year’s broken Christmas lights, the paint flaking off the shutters, and the mailbox that tilted to the right.
I couldn’t fix all of that now. I just had to mow the lawn and sweep the cut grass off the sidewalk. I accomplished both in record time. After I showered I wrote a note to Mom explaining that I was spending the night at Yoda’s. I took off before anyone got home.
The Warrior tradition of holding a bonfire before the Halloween football game used to be a big deal. They say you could see the smoke for miles, that kids would party like crazy in the cornfields behind the school, that there were rivers of beer and the occasional sacrifice of virgins. Then the lawyers got involved.
Now the whole thing was closely monitored by the fire department and the police. The bonfire itself was almost big enough to cook a couple hamburgers on. The cornfields had been plowed under and turned into McMansion developments. The Key Club sold cider and fresh doughnuts. The fear of litigation had turned a pagan rite of passage into a pathetic shadow of its former glory.
Some of the kids were wearing Halloween costumes, but most of us had on winter jackets. It felt cold enough to snow. I opened a twelve-pack of spearmint gum. A few teachers mingled in the crowd, friendly-like, standing close enough to students to smell their breath and stare in their eyes. I chewed stick after stick and tossed the silver gum wrappers in the fire. The lights went on in the stadium and the marching band warmed up. The Key Club closed down the cider stand.
Bethany and her friends finally arrived as the bonfire was dying down, and people were hustling from the parking lot to the stadium so they wouldn’t miss the kickoff. The girls were wearing matching Halloween costumes—a cross between an angel and a fairy, with black leggings, tiny skirts made of fabric leaves, low-cut skintight shirts, and wings. A couple girls wore devil’s horns in their hair, which spoiled the effect. Not Bethany. Her white-feathered wings fluttered as she walked; her hair caught the breeze and played around her head like magic. She looked like she could fly away to the stars if she wanted.
“Tyler!”
She danced ahead of the other fairy angels and ran up and put her arm through mine. Her eyes sparkled in the firelight and her cheeks were red.
“Ohmigod you wouldn’t believe it Stacey’s mom’s car got a flat tire and we didn’t know what to do so then we
“No, silly,” she said. “Look, I like you. We’re not going out, but I like you, okay? I want to spend time with you. Are you getting the hint here?” Her fingers curled around my bicep.
“Oh, uh, yeah. Ah…”
While I struggled to remember a single word of my native language, the bell rang. Bethany pulled away from me. I shivered.
“You don’t have to pick me up or anything. I’ll be at the bonfire tonight, and then the game. See you there? If your dad doesn’t go off the deep end again, I mean.”
“Yeah, um–”
She was already gone, her ponytail bouncing down the hall.
43.
I was so desperate to make this night happen, I took the school bus home. The underclassmen stared at me like I had lost my mind. I nearly told them I had an almost-date with Bethany Milbury (I’ll see you tonight, right?), but that would have tempted fate, so I scowled at them instead.
I made it to my house at eight minutes to three. I had four hours before the bonfire started. Hannah had a game and Mom was shooting Labradors. Dad was the unpredictable one. I would make a preemptive strike.
The lawn hadn’t been mowed since the Night of the Roast Pork Migraine, and it showed. In fact, our entire yard looked trashy. It wasn’t just the overgrown grass or the dying marigolds or the scraggly boxwood bushes. It was the gutters where rotting leaves had spilled onto last year’s broken Christmas lights, the paint flaking off the shutters, and the mailbox that tilted to the right.
I couldn’t fix all of that now. I just had to mow the lawn and sweep the cut grass off the sidewalk. I accomplished both in record time. After I showered I wrote a note to Mom explaining that I was spending the night at Yoda’s. I took off before anyone got home.
The Warrior tradition of holding a bonfire before the Halloween football game used to be a big deal. They say you could see the smoke for miles, that kids would party like crazy in the cornfields behind the school, that there were rivers of beer and the occasional sacrifice of virgins. Then the lawyers got involved.
Now the whole thing was closely monitored by the fire department and the police. The bonfire itself was almost big enough to cook a couple hamburgers on. The cornfields had been plowed under and turned into McMansion developments. The Key Club sold cider and fresh doughnuts. The fear of litigation had turned a pagan rite of passage into a pathetic shadow of its former glory.
Some of the kids were wearing Halloween costumes, but most of us had on winter jackets. It felt cold enough to snow. I opened a twelve-pack of spearmint gum. A few teachers mingled in the crowd, friendly-like, standing close enough to students to smell their breath and stare in their eyes. I chewed stick after stick and tossed the silver gum wrappers in the fire. The lights went on in the stadium and the marching band warmed up. The Key Club closed down the cider stand.
Bethany and her friends finally arrived as the bonfire was dying down, and people were hustling from the parking lot to the stadium so they wouldn’t miss the kickoff. The girls were wearing matching Halloween costumes—a cross between an angel and a fairy, with black leggings, tiny skirts made of fabric leaves, low-cut skintight shirts, and wings. A couple girls wore devil’s horns in their hair, which spoiled the effect. Not Bethany. Her white-feathered wings fluttered as she walked; her hair caught the breeze and played around her head like magic. She looked like she could fly away to the stars if she wanted.
“Tyler!”
She danced ahead of the other fairy angels and ran up and put her arm through mine. Her eyes sparkled in the firelight and her cheeks were red.
“Ohmigod you wouldn’t believe it Stacey’s mom’s car got a flat tire and we didn’t know what to do so then we
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