After Midnight

by Lynn Viehl

  X = dark boy, I thought, and jumped a little as I felt someone behind me. I glanced back to see a girl dressed in baggy black parachute pants and an oversize black T-shirt climbing up onto the seat behind mine. Her baby-blonde hair had been cropped like a boy’s, and she wore thick, heavy dark makeup including dark blue lip tint that made her fair skin look even paler. I smiled and tried not to stare at the silver stud gleaming in the crease of her nose or the matching ring piercing her left eyebrow.

  “You mind if I sit here?” she asked gruffly, half-rising as if she already knew the answer.

  I shook my head and turned back to watch the field.

  I could feel the tension growing. However these boys performed today would decide if they made the team, so every one of them must be determined to play their best. I also guessed that most of them had been on teams before or had at least practiced with their dads and friends.

  Gray, who had never once played football, didn’t really stand a chance.

  I noticed that Boone didn’t put on his helmet or run with either group, but stayed on the sidelines tossing a football back and forth with one of his friends. I wondered if being the best quarterback in the county meant that he didn’t have to do what the other players did. It didn’t seem fair, and I caught a couple of the other boys giving him disgusted looks.

  “You’re Catlyn Youngblood.” The Goth girl who had been sitting behind me dropped her backpack by my feet and sat down next to me. “Aren’t you?” When I nodded, she said, “I’m Karise Carson. Call me Kari, or hey, you.”

  “I’m Cat. Hey, you.” I glanced at the front of her T-shirt, which had Asian characters all over it. “Have we met before and I’ve been rude and forgotten it?”

  “Unless I did the same, no. I’m the junior editor for the school newsletter.” She looked out onto the field. “Want to give me an exclusive about how it feels to be harassed by a jerk, excuse me, jock like Aaron Boone? Not that it would get printed, because our teacher sponsor isn’t interested in the truth per se, but I’d save it for the high school expose I’m writing.”

  Her attitude was as unsympathetic as her appearance was bizarre, but I found it refreshing. “Did you come here just to talk to me?”

  She shook her head. “Today I’m stalking someone else.” She pointed toward the boys on the field. “I’m hoping one of them gets hurt. Aside from the sheer delight it would give me to write up the eyewitness account, I want his job as senior editor.”

  “You’re ambitious. And bloodthirsty.” I grinned. “I like that in a Goth girl.”

  “Please. We prefer to think of ourselves as displaced tragedy addicts,” she informed me in a lofty tone. “Or we would, if I wasn’t the only one residing in this Podunk sinkhole of a town.”

  The coach tossed a football out to Gray’s group, and to my surprise Gray caught it. He then stood in a huddle with the other players while the boys in the unmarked jerseys finished their runs and got into formation facing them.

  “Here we go.” Kari openly crossed her fingers on both hands. “Is it too much to hope for two broken arms on the first play?”

  “Probably,” I told her.

  Boone looked across the field and then strode over to the coach. They both got into a heated discussion until the coach jabbed his finger at the group with unmarked jerseys. From the way Boone stalked off onto the field, he wasn’t happy about being on that side. The coach called out some numbers, and the boys got into position, some crouching, others leaning forward as if getting ready to run.

  I knew enough about football to realize what position Gray was playing: quarterback.

  I tried not to cringe. “This is going to be bad.”

  “Stop teasing me,” Kari said.

  Eleven

  Gray moved back into position, called out something, and caught the snapped ball. My vantage point allowed me to see right down the middle of the two teams, and I saw Boone barreling toward my brother. Gray held onto the ball until a second before Boone reached him, then threw a quick pass and side-stepped Boone, who fell on his face. The boy who caught the ball ran it in for a touchdown.

  I wanted to stand up and applaud like everyone else in the stands, but I was too astonished. My brother had just thrown his first pass. For a touchdown.

  “Dude, close your mouth before you catch a bug,” Kari said. She studied my face. “You have a thing for the new QB? Please say yes.”

  “No.” I laughed a little. “He’s my brother, Grayson.”

  “Oh. So the brother of the girl Boone used as an excuse to break up with Tiffany Beck is trying out for Boone’s position on the football team.” She made a hmmming sound as she jotted down some notes. “This is getting really complicated. And interesting.” She pretended to hold a mike out in front of my face. “So tell our audience, Ms. Youngblood, who do you want to make the team? Big bro, or the not-so-secret heartthrob?”

  I pushed her imaginary mike away. “No comment.”

  Kari sighed heavily. “The good ones always say that.”

  Boone finally got up, shook himself off and went directly over to Gray to shove him, which made me grab the edge of my seat with my hands. Instead of shoving back, Gray just stood there while he and Boone were quickly surrounded by Boone’s friends. The coach blew his whistle and then threw down his clipboard as he strode onto the field. A few minutes later Gray trotted off and Boone switched sides.

  “Hey.” I watched my brother take off his helmet and go down on one knee on the sidelines while Boone took his place. “That’s not fair.”

  Kari patted my shoulder. “Welcome to the Matrix.”

  I looked over and saw Mrs. Yamah and the other moms staring at me and the Goth girl, and suddenly I didn’t care. My brothers and I might be outsiders in this town, but Gray deserved the same chance as everyone else at the tryouts.

  The coach had the divided team run several more plays, and my resentment grew as I watched Boone taking my brother’s place. He threw passes around like they meant nothing, and half the time they were too short or too long. Then he and his friends began goofing around, disrupting the game by playing hot potato with the football while the other boys stood around waiting. The coach blew his whistle so often and loudly that my ears started to ring.

  Finally the coach waved at Boone, who ignored him and called out his own play. I saw one of the boys on the other team take off, rushing at Boone who had turned to toss the ball to one of his friends. He tackled Boone so hard his helmet came off and bounced away like it was made of rubber.

  “Yes.” Kari shot up and whooped. Then she peered at Boone and dropped back down in a huff. “Rats. Wrong guy.”

  The coach hurried out onto the field as Boone sat up and grabbed his leg. He crouched beside him to check his ankle, then put an arm around him and helped him up. Boone leaned heavily on the coach as he limped off the field, followed by the friends he’d been goofing off with.

  The coach called out to Gray, who got up and trotted out to the field. I heard Boone protesting even as the coach helped him to the bench and knelt down to take off his shoe and sock.

  I looked out at Gray, who had already gathered his players into a huddle. By the time the coach stood up both sides were in position, and started the play as soon as the coach’s whistle blew.

  Just as he had before, Gray threw a perfect pass to one of the receivers, who ran for thirty yards before one of the other boys caught up and tackled him. Gray and the others moved down the field, and his third pass resulted in another touchdown.

  The coach gestured for the boys to move back to center field. They lined up and waited while Gray watched the coach for the next play.

  “Come on, Grim,” I said under my breath. “Show him what you can do.”

  The coach ran six more plays. Gray threw the ball for four of them, passed it to another player on the fifth, and ran with the ball himself on the last. By the time they were finished the X’s had racked up another three touchdowns, one of them made by my brother hi
mself.

  “I hope you like living with a god,” Kari said. “Because I think your brother just turned into one.”

  “He’s never played football before today.” I saw her skeptical expression. “I’m serious. We don’t even own a football.”

  “Then he’s either an indestructible cyborg created to ultimately destroy humanity, or a natural.” She gave me a shrewd look. “If he turns out to be the robot, I should get an exclusive. Just saying.”

  The coach called the boys off the field, and I moved down to where I could hear what he was saying. Kari followed me. He read positions from a clipboard and then said a name. When he got to quarterback, the coach glanced back at Boone, who was pale and frowning, before he said, “Youngblood.”

  “Coach.” Boone shot to his feet, stumbled, and grabbed the shoulder of one of his hovering friends. “I play quarterback for the team.”

  “Not with an injury,” the coach told him. “If that ankle is broken, you’re out for the season.”

  “God, this is so great,” Kari murmured, looking completely riveted now. “Boone looks like he’s gonna cry. Do you think he will? I knew I should have brought my camera.”

  Boone scowled at the coach. “It’s just a sprain.”

  “We’ll see what the doctor says, son,” the coach told him. He looked over as Sheriff Yamah walked out to the sidelines. “Jim.”

  Kari quietly hummed a couple bars of a funeral dirge.

  “Frank.” The sheriff’s mirrored sunglasses flashed as he looked over the boys. “I think you’re making a mistake here. Don’t throw the season away on a rookie with beginner’s luck and no experience.”

  Gray took off his helmet and looked at the sheriff but didn’t say anything.

  “Youngblood’s completed every pass he’s made,” the coach pointed out. “If Aaron’s not in a cast by the end of the day, he’ll be out of commission for at least three games.”

  “Cat, I was wondering, do you know a big muscular bald guy who wears my favorite color and rides a Harley?” Kari asked.

  I nodded, still focused on the sheriff and the coach. “My oldest brother, Patrick. Why?”

  “He’s standing right behind you.”

  I turned around to see my brother also watching the argument between the coach and Jim Yamah. His sunglasses kept me from seeing his eyes, but his shoulders were rigid and his hands had curled into fists. “Trick.”

  “Great nickname,” Kari murmured as she watched both of us.

  “It’s not what you think,” I told my brother. “Gray was just trying out. For fun. That’s all.”

  “For fun.” Trick turned his head toward me. “Is that what you think?” He walked over to the sidelines.

  “Suddenly I’m very grateful that I’m an only child.” Kari shouldered her backpack. “Now I’ve got to go and write up five hundred nauseatingly PC words to describe this event. I’ll probably have to puke at least once.” She gave me a sympathetic squint. “You okay, Youngblood?”

  “I’m fine,” I lied. “Thanks for talking to me. It was nice to meet you.”

  She grinned, making her nose stud twinkle. “No, it wasn’t.”

  After Kari left I thought about going over to join my brothers and provide some moral support for Gray, but I didn’t want to make Trick angrier than he already was. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but my older brother stood very still and didn’t say much, which meant he was furious. For once Gray seemed to be doing most of the talking, and the coach nodded as if agreeing with every word. Trick finally said something that made Gray shut up and hang his head. After that the coach shook my brothers’ hands while the sheriff glared at them. I grabbed my backpack as my brothers walked off the field, and met them halfway.

  “Hey,” I said to Gray. “You were terrific out there. Really. My goose bumps got goose bumps.”

  “Thanks.” He glanced at Trick before he added, “I made the team. Starting quarterback.”

  “I heard the coach call your name.” I saw Sheriff Yamah walking toward us. “We’ll talk about it at home.”

  “Youngblood.” The sheriff joined us like one of the family. “If you have a minute, I’d like a private word with you.”

  “Whatever you have to say,” Trick told him, “you can tell me in front of my family.”

  “Fair enough.” Yamah hitched a thumb in his belt loop. “Lost Lake is a small community. We all know and look out for each other, and we don’t appreciate outsiders thinking they can come here and do as they please.” When Trick didn’t say anything, he added, “You three in particular strike me as nothing but trouble waiting to happen.”

  Trick didn’t twitch a muscle. “Is that right.”

  “You’ve got a nice piece of land, so you shouldn’t have a problem selling it,” Yamah continued. “I’ll wager if you put it on the market this week, you’ll make a good profit. Enough to start over somewhere else, and then some.”

  Gray started to say something, but Trick gave him a small shake of his head. To Yamah, Trick said, “I’m not interested in selling the farm, Sheriff.”

  “You want me to be plain about it? All right, then.” Yamah’s mustache bristled. “You three aren’t welcome here. I suggest for your sake that you pack up and head out. Find another place where folks don’t care who lives in their backyard.” He turned and went to where his wife was waiting for him, and the two walked away.

  I watched them go. “Okay. What was that all about?” I glanced at Trick. “Why are we trouble? We haven’t done anything.”

  “Let’s go,” was all Trick said.

  I expected all hell to break loose between my brothers as soon as we got home, but Gray just headed for the shower while Trick went out to the barn. I went upstairs and hid in my bedroom for a while until it was time to make dinner. When I went down, I decided to make a peace offering of homemade deep dish pizza and a Caesar salad, Trick’s favorite meal.

  Gray came out to set the table, but when dinner was ready at the usual time Trick didn’t show up to join us.

  “Maybe we should wait for him,” I told my brother as he sat down.

  “He’s not coming in yet,” Gray told me as he reached for the salad. “He’s too mad.”

  I sat down and sipped some milk to ease my dry throat. “Did he say anything to you?”

  Gray glanced at Trick’s empty place setting. “He didn’t have to.”

  Neither Gray or I had much appetite, so there were plenty of leftovers for Trick. I put them away in the fridge while my brother did the dishes, and then I went out and sat on the back porch. From the hammering sounds coming from inside the barn I could tell that Trick was working on fixing the stalls. That went on for two hours, during which time Soul Patch, Princess and Terrible came to keep me company.

  “It’s too bad you guys can’t talk,” I told Princess as she delicately leapt up and turned herself into a fuzzy collar. “You’d probably be able to explain the whole thing a lot better than me.”

  I knew I’d have to be the one to talk to Trick. Gray never spoke up for himself, not even when he should have. I also understood—kind of—both sides of the argument. Gray secretly wanted to be a normal kid, which he wasn’t. Trick didn’t want him to hurt himself or anyone else.

  There was probably more to it than that that I didn’t know. Seeing how my brothers always kept things from me, maybe it was time I talked to Trick about that, too. I wasn’t proud of what I’d done to help Gray, but maybe if I were honest and accepted to consequences without making a fuss, Trick would tell me why he’d lied to me about the farm.

  I finally got up and fed my stray companions before I went inside to take a shower. While I was dressing I heard someone moving around in the kitchen under my bedroom and went downstairs to find Trick warming up the pizza. He looked tired now, as if he’d worn himself out.

  “There’s salad in the fridge,” I told him. “Caesar, with garlic croutons.”

  “I recognize a bribe when I see one, Catlyn,” he said d
rily, and brought his plate over to the table. “Sit down.”

  I sat across from him and decided to attack him straight on. “Military school is really expensive. You’d probably have to work like three jobs to cover the tuition and boarding fees. I admit, the uniforms are kind of cute, but all they’d teach us would be how to march and dig foxholes and use things like bayonets and grenades and rocket launchers.”

  “You’ve researched this,” he said, eyeing me.

  “Oh, extensively. Then after graduation we’d have to join the military and occupy third world countries and walk through a lot of minefields. Which, when you think about it, is kind of like repeating high school.” I tried out a tentative smile on him. “So, what if I just admit how truly and deeply sorry I am? Gray is, too. He would tell you himself but he lacks the necessary verbal skills. Say something.”

  “How involved were you in this fiasco?” he asked.

  “I knew he was going to do it.” I ducked my head. “I also sort of stole something out of your desk.” When he put down his fork, I added, “Gray’s last physical. He needed it to be cleared for tryouts.”

  My brother sat back and rubbed his eyelids with his fingers. When he looked at me again, I could see the disappointment in his eyes.

  “Catlyn, I don’t often say no to you or Gray,” he said slowly. “When I do, there is always a very good reason. I assumed the two of you respected that.”

  “We do, it’s just … ” I made a face. “Wherever we go, I’ve always been able to blend in with the other kids. No one hardly notices me. Gray hasn’t been able to do that since the fifth grade.”

  “Your brother’s size is hardly an excuse to defy me,” Trick pointed out.