The Lottery

by D. K. Wall

  Roosevelt started the night by sending Ricky toward Nathan, hoping for a repeat of last year, but their quarterback struggled to deliver the ball in the miserable weather. With the sloppy passing, Nathan contained the star receiver and dragged him down in the sludge, keeping him scoreless. Each play, they fell together into the cold water standing on the field, Nathan smiling and Ricky shivering. When the frustrated quarterback attempted a pass to their other receiver, Charlie intercepted, setting up Matt Saunders for a touchdown a few plays later.

  Roosevelt flipped their receivers in hopes of igniting the game, but Jenkins continued to struggle, and Charlie covered Ricky just as well. When the quarterback again tried to engage their second receiver, Nathan got his own interception. Matt waltzed into their end zone just four plays later.

  Ricky grew frustrated at his failure to get the ball. Gone was the confident receiver who had taunted and delivered last year, replaced by a dispirited boy not accustomed to losing. He pushed and shoved against his opponents, but that only fired them up to smother him.

  With the passing game shut down, Roosevelt relied on running to grind out the yards, keeping the score as close as they could. But with only one second on the clock, too many yards to run, and a playoff season slipping away from their grasp, they would be forced to let Michael Jenkins throw one last pass to his star receiver.

  The Mountaineers were one hit, one tackle, away from sending their nemesis on a quiet bus ride back to Charlotte with his fellow Rough Riders, their playoff hopes spoiled by a sub-.500 team that everyone had expected to just fold.

  The deafening roar of the crowd reached their ears over the pounding rain. Playoffs and conference championship dreams for Millerton had died weeks before, if not before the season ever started, but beating the rich Roosevelt kids was its own championship, a unifying passion to end the season.

  Ricky lined up on the far side of the field against Charlie. Disappointed he would not get the last hit on his nemesis, Nathan concentrated on closing down his own man in the event they tried a pass to him.

  The center snapped the ball to the tall, lanky quarterback. Jenkins dropped back and searched for his target. Millerton’s fired-up defense pushed hard, and Roosevelt’s line collapsed on the slick field. Hank and Danny fought toward Jenkins from the two corners, threatening to pull him down on the field in a humiliating ending to the game. The quarterback scrambled toward the sidelines, gripping the wet ball and desperately scanning down the field for an open receiver.

  Ricky faked a burst deep along the left field line before hooking toward the center of the field, showing the speed the University of Georgia Bulldogs wanted on their own field the next fall. As so many other defenders had, Charlie fell for the fake and found himself several steps behind his target.

  The second receiver sprinted right, trying to draw Nathan out of the center of the field and down the sidelines. If he followed and the pass went to Ricky, he would have an open field for a quick sprint to the end zone. But if Nathan covered their star instead, he would leave his own man open for a pass.

  Nathan asked himself, with playoff hopes at stake, which play would Roosevelt make? A long last-chance pass to their star, of course. They wanted to drop the ball into his hands, counting on his height and speed advantage to outmaneuver his opponents.

  Nathan watched Jenkins scramble away from Hank and Danny’s outstretched hands, the quarterback’s eyes focused down the field. In the chaos, he didn’t have time to find the other receiver nor notice he had been left open. He could only see his star, the preferred target.

  Jenkins abandoned any planned fake and heaved an off-balance pass high into the air as he stumbled out of bounds. Nathan broke toward the center of the field, zeroing in on the wide-open receiver. The poorly thrown ball floated through the air, hit its peak, and descended much shorter than planned. Ricky had to slow his run to be under it. Charlie was closing the gap but too far to catch the faster receiver.

  Ricky opened his arms for the catch, but with his attention on Charlie, he never saw Nathan coming. He probably wondered why his opponent was grinning despite being out of position.

  In the split second he had, Nathan weighed his options. He could attempt to step in front of Ricky and catch the ball, but an interception was pointless and dangerous to attempt, leaving nothing between the speedy receiver and the end zone if he failed. An incomplete pass was ideal, but even a completed pass was fine as long as they dropped him to the ground as time expired. The only thing that mattered was keeping him from scoring, so Nathan concentrated on a well-timed, solid hit.

  But this was more than winning a game. This was payback for three years of humiliation. Three years of running up the score. Three years of eluding Nathan’s tackles.

  The ball fell into Ricky’s outstretched hands as Nathan aimed his body right at the point that the ball and the receiver met. He dug his cleats into the soaked turf and launched his body through the rain. As the ball touched his fingertips, Ricky spun to aim for the open field but was surprised to see a flying torpedo only a foot away. Nathan’s arms wrapped around Ricky’s body as his shoulder rammed into his chest pads. The boy’s feet continued to run forward, but his body slammed backward. The noise of the collision reached the crowd, and a chorus of “oooh” floated across the field.

  Ricky rocked backward and splashed onto the soaked field, Nathan’s body falling on top of him and knocking his breath out of his lungs. Their bodies intertwined and slid through a lake of muddy, cold water.

  Charlie pounced on the loose, bouncing football and slid to a stop beside them, smiling behind his mask as mud dripped across his face.

  The referees’ whistles shrilled, signaling the end of the game. The crowd erupted in celebration.

  Ricky lay on his back, half submerged in the water, writhing in pain from the hit and gasping for air.

  Lying on top of him, Nathan raised his head, mud caked on his face, and grinned. “Got you.”

  2

  Showered and dressed in street clothes, Nathan and Charlie left the warmth and celebration of the locker room for the brisk breeze of the parking lot. Only half the scattered lights were on, reflecting off puddles of water on the cracked asphalt but doing little to illuminate the cars. Pools of shadows covered most of the sprawling lot.

  Small crowds of people huddled and chattered, insulated by the warmth of the win. Some gathered around cars, making plans with friends for unexpected but hoped-for postgame celebrations. Others waited near the building to congratulate exiting players. Clouds of cigarette smoke hovered over most of the clusters.

  Everyone exchanged excited stories of their favorite plays, the last, punishing hit on the star from the city being the best of the best. A small cheer erupted as Nathan emerged from the locker room. He waved his hand in acknowledgment as he strutted past.

  Charlie slapped Nathan on the shoulder and pointed at the buses parked in the far corner near the visitors’ locker room. The logo of a charging horse covered most of the side. A large panel truck stood beside it with its door open as trainers loaded equipment.

  Their transportation was a far cry from Millerton’s beat-up old school buses, which spewed smoke as they sputtered down the highway, windows forced open to fight the stench of sweaty equipment piled in the aisles.

  Most of the opposing fans had slipped out of the visitor stands as the home crowd celebrated. They had already left for the long ride home, leaving only a small knot of parents and friends to greet the dejected players as they trudged out. Even the nicest bus was miserable after a loss, just like torn bench seats seemed like heaven after a win.

  “Shall we go wish them safe travels and a happy off-season?”

  Nathan beamed at the idea. “Maybe I should see if Ricky enjoyed tonight’s game.”

  “After that last hit you laid on him, bet he doesn’t even know where he is.”

  “Well, let’s go remind him.”

  “I think that’s about the dumbest idea I ever heard
.” Ronnie Mills’s voice boomed as he emerged from the shadows near the building. His dark-blue mechanic’s uniform and dark skin had camouflaged his wait in the shadows. Despite his clothes being soaked from sitting for hours in the rain, he didn’t appear cold or tired. He walked tall and strong, his work boots splashing through puddles, and exuded a quiet authority that the two boys respected.

  “Come on, Dad. It would be fun,” Charlie protested half-heartedly, a mischievous grin plastered on his face.

  “Fun would be staying out of trouble, graduating in a few months, and then starting community college. Doesn’t that sound like a better idea than getting into a fight over a football game?”

  Danny exited the locker room and walked past them, his car keys jangling in his hands. “No way, Mr. Mills. A fight would be much more fun.”

  Ronnie’s eyes followed the muscular teen. “Don’t you derail my boys from college, Danny Morgan.”

  Though smart enough to keep walking out of reach, Danny widened his cocky grin as he called over his shoulder, “College? They should join the Marines with Hank and me. We’re gonna see the world and kick ass!”

  “See the desert is more like it. I believed all of that crap when I signed up for the Navy too. These two are going to college. And so should you.”

  “Oorah!” Danny pumped his fist into the air as he strutted toward his car.

  Nathan wiped his rain-soaked hair out of his eyes as Ronnie’s attention returned to them. “I still don’t know if I can handle any more school. Gonna be hard enough just getting to graduation day.”

  Ronnie fixed his glare on Nathan. “Never known you to shy away from work. You’ll be fine in college. And you’re not going into the Marines.”

  “Oh, no, sir. No Marines. I’ll leave that to Hank and Danny. I’m just thinking I should work full-time and make cash.”

  Ronnie crossed his arms over his chest and drew himself to full height. “We’ve talked about this. You will work for me part-time at the plant, keeping equipment running, which will give you more than enough money. The biggest employer in town, lots of machinery, lots to learn. Danny’s dad taught you all about fixing cars. Your dad taught you how to repair big diesel trucks. And now I will show you how to keep factory equipment running. A man who can fix stuff can always make money. Add a college degree to that, and you can manage other people doing the work.”

  This was the lecture Nathan had heard over and over, first from his own father and now from Ronnie. “I appreciate it, sir, but part-time won’t cover the rent.”

  “What rent? Ain’t no rent in my house. And you’re going to college. Period. The money you make working at the plant will pay for tuition and books. I made a deal with your dad, and I’m keeping the deal.”

  “But—“

  “I ain’t taking your money. That’s your college money. And that’s what you’re going to spend it on. You pay me by getting this knucklehead”—Ronnie nodded toward Charlie—“through math.”

  “I get him through math because he gets me through English. I never would have figured out Shakespeare without him.”

  “Good, then the deal doesn’t change when you graduate high school. You live at the house, work part-time, go to community college, don’t worry about rent. That’s what your dad would want. If he were standing here, he would say the same thing.”

  “Yes, sir, but—“

  Ronnie held up his hand, spreading his long fingers wide. “Your dad would have taken Charlie in if something happened to me. You know it’s true, so we ain’t talking about it anymore.”

  “You know I don’t want to be a burden.”

  “Boy, you were at the house half the time before your dad died. Now it’s just full-time. You ain’t no burden and never have been, so stop it. All this rent talk is just because you want a place to yourself where no one is checking to make sure no girl is in your bed.” Ronnie dismissed the debate with a wave of his arms, eyed the two boys, and changed the topic. “So, when should I expect you two home tonight?”

  After the boys exchanged glances, Charlie took the lead. “We’re going over to Hank’s for a bit and then we’ll be home.”

  Ronnie crossed his arms and looked down his nose. “Uh-huh. You two and Hank and Matt? And Danny, too, right? Mr. Mo-rine himself.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Anyone else?”

  Charlie tried to hold Ronnie’s stare but dropped his eyes to study a dark puddle in the pavement instead. He mumbled, “And some others.”

  “Some others. Like half the school?”

  Charlie squirmed. “Just some friends, Dad. I don’t know how many are coming. Celebrating our last football game. Come on, you remember what it was like.”

  “Oh, I remember exactly what it was like. Why do you think I’m asking? Girls will be there, right? Girls swooning over their football stars?” Ronnie turned his attention to Nathan. “Donna?”

  Nathan gulped but couldn’t deny it. “Yes, sir.”

  “Hank’s mom is still working third shift, right?” He held up a hand to cut off the reply. “Don’t answer, because I know it’s true. So that means no adults at Hank’s after midnight?”

  Charlie and Nathan looked at each other. They might fail to volunteer information, but neither would lie to him. They knew better and confirmed the lack of supervision with a slight shake of their heads.

  Ronnie opened his arms wide and smiled at the boys. “Here’s the deal. I’m feeling good because you boys finally beat Roosevelt. Took you long enough, but you did it. You can go to Hank’s, but I’m not interested in being a grandpa yet, so get your butts home by midnight.” When both boys opened their mouths to protest, he cut them off. “Midnight and not a minute later. Or you can come home right now. Those are the only two options. Which one do you want?”

  The boys threw their hands up in defeat. Trying to argue would only result in them going straight home, and they knew it.

  “That’s what I thought. I know Hank and Danny well enough to know a keg is involved though I sure don’t want to know how they got it. Season is over, and Coach Burleson won’t be riding you about drinking anymore, so now that’s my job. If I smell any beer on you when you get home, I’ll ground you through New Year’s, got it?”

  The boys looked at their shoes and glumly nodded.

  “So I’ll see you at midnight, right?”

  Nathan could only shrug. “Midnight it is.”

  Satisfied, Ronnie turned and walked to his truck, shouting over his shoulder. “You know your dads beat Roosevelt every year we played them! I have told you that, right?”

  The boys groaned as Ronnie climbed into his pickup truck and joined the line of traffic exiting the high school, taillights reflecting off the puddles.

  Nathan hefted his gym bag onto his shoulder. “Midnight? What are we, eleven years old?”

  Charlie laughed and shoved Nathan’s shoulder. “I’m pretty sure your old man said we had to be inside the house by the time the streetlights came on when we were eleven.” His face grew serious as he stared at the taillights of his father’s truck, idling in the traffic leaving the school. “We have to get an apartment or something when we graduate. I might be able to handle community college, but I can’t deal with a curfew. College girls will not put up with curfews.”

  They talked about getting an apartment every night, stretched out in their beds on opposite walls in Charlie’s bedroom, so Nathan didn’t respond. Across the parking lot, Donna and Hank leaned against Danny’s car, heads close and chatting conspiratorially. Donna laughed at something Hank said and playfully pushed against his chest. He returned a wolfish grin and sidled up closer to her.

  Charlie followed Nathan’s watchful stare. “Getting jealous, Mr. Possessive?”

  Nathan shook his head but never took his eyes off his girlfriend. “Nah, nothing like that. Hank’s my bro, and ain’t none of you are going to cut in on a girl I’m dating any more than I would cut in on a girl any of y’all are dating.”

&nb
sp; “Oh, yeah, sure he wouldn’t.” Charlie rolled his eyes. “So, when are you going to stop dating her so he can? You’ve been telling me for two weeks you’re going to break up with her.”

  “Can’t.” Nathan adjusted the gym bag on his shoulder. He licked his lips and drew in a deep breath. “Donna’s pregnant.”

  Charlie’s mouth fell open as he stared at his friend. “Wait. What? Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. She told me this afternoon after school. She’s been acting weird all week and said she wasn’t going to tell me until tomorrow because she didn’t want me distracted for the game. I found her crying outside the gym, so I kept asking her what was wrong until she spilled it.”

  “Whoa.” Charlie wrapped a hand over Nathan’s shoulder and squeezed. “You going to take her down to Charlotte and get it taken care of?”

  Nathan shook his head again, a slow, defeated twist from side to side. “She got furious when I suggested it. Said her mom didn’t abort her and she sure wouldn’t abort her kid. Said I’d just have to deal with it.”

  “So that’s why you pushed Dad again about working full-time. Wondered what got that stirred up. You really do need the green to cover some serious child support.”

  “Worse.” Nathan paused and cleared his throat. “I think my old man would tell me I got to marry her.”

  Charlie dropped his bag and stepped backward. “Wait. No. What about love and all that stuff?” Because the boys spent most evenings in the twin beds sharing every detail of their days, especially about girls, Charlie knew all the sordid details.

  Throughout high school, Nathan had almost always been in a relationship. But unlike a lot of his classmates, they were rarely intense. They would start slowly—hanging out at lunch, chatting in class, studying after school—and last for several months. Then, just like they started, he would slowly drift back out until one or the other of them decided that they should “just be friends.” And he was friends with almost all his exes.