by Greg Ness
Stephen smiled. He didn’t think there was anything special about humans. They simply evolved from apes. Stephen didn’t buy the idea of God either. The idea that there was some kind of invisible ‘big guy upstairs’ who watched over everyone and judged their actions seemed ludicrous. The idea that came so easily to Bruce struggled to find its way to Stephen. Jesus as a historical figure, however, was always interesting to him. The guy was, without question, the most influential individual to ever live on the planet. But was he the “Son Of God”? Probably not, Stephen thought. But he certainly made an impact on people.
“Jesus Christ!” Vince yelled.
Stephen and Bruce simultaneously looked at their embattled roommate.
“Can you guys go somewhere else?” Vince asked, not-so-calmly. There it was: social awkwardness.
Stephen and Bruce looked at each other. Huh? Was Vince honestly trying to kick them out of the room?
Stephen inquired, “What are you doing, Vince?”
“I’m working on my homework.”
Bruce asked, “What did you do yesterday?”
Vince’s eyes shot around. He tapped his pencil on his desk. He knew where they were going with this.
“I did my work. Something I never see either of you doing,” Vince starkly replied.
Stephen and Bruce shook their heads. They sat in their chairs relaxed, loose. They had to get Vince out of the room. They had to show him how fun college could be. If he left the room. Just once. Vince, tense from head to toe, asked, “What?”
“We have an extra ticket to the game this weekend,” Stephen started.
“You’re coming with us,” Bruce finished.
“What game?” Vince asked.
They laughed. It was possible, they thought, that he actually hadn’t left the room. Ever.
“The football game.”
12
The game against Michigan State was always a huge event. The schools were bitter rivals. The level of hatred wasn’t the same as Michigan and Ohio State, but nonetheless, the animosity ran deep.
Stephen waited on the campus on a curb, giving him a couple inches of extra height. He was looking for the girls who were meeting up with Bruce, Vince, and himself. The students walked by in droves, dressed in blue and gold. They trekked in the same direction, toward the stadium, where the supremacy between schools would be decided. The sun shone brightly for the monumentous game so the boys wore shorts and the girls wore even shorter shorts. Excitement ruffled its way through the air. The green-and-white-wearing Michigan State students were snarled at as they openly rooted for their despicable Spartans.
As people passed, Bruce analyzed every face. Stephen was busy looking for the girls, but Bruce was hoping to spot Sara Ixley. He hadn’t seen her since high school. And she, as he heard from a friend, was a freshman at Michigan State. He didn’t know if she’d make the trip to see the game. But if she did, he wanted to see her.
Vince stood next to Bruce. He was not happy about being forced to see a football game. Surely, his parents would be proud. He looked at his roommates who were seeking out some girls who were meeting up with them. Vince looked at the students passing by. He thought he recognized some faces from some of his classes. But he wasn’t sure. The girls here were much prettier than the girls at high school. He was sure there was no way he could ever woo one. There was no point in trying, he figured.
Vince continued to look around aimlessly, eager to get the whole day over with and get back to schoolwork. The flow of traffic moved in one swift direction. It was like a highway of people. He spotted a group of three girls that seemed to zig-zag their way against the tide. Their direction seemed to coincide with Vince. He made eye contact with one of the girls, an attractive brunette. Oh! He held it a little too long. He glanced away. What to do!? He mimicked Stephen and Bruce and pretended to look for a group of girls. Were the girls still heading toward him? He looked. Made eye contact again. Oh, shoot. This was getting uncomfortable. They were still coming. Vince coughed. He looked at Stephen and Bruce. They remained oblivious. How could they not see the impending attack? Vince nervously spoke up, “Guys, someone’s coming!”
Stephen looked. It was them. “Hey!” He hopped off the curb. “What’s up?”
“Hey Stephen,” the brunette replied.
She looked at Vince and smiled. He attempted to smile back. Awkwardly.
She asked, “Is he with you guys?”
Bruce cut off his search for Sara Ixley, to be resumed later. “Yeah,” Bruce said, “This is our roommate, Vince.”
The brunette and her two friends turned their attention toward Vince. The three of them were pretty. How did his roommates pull this off? He would consider hanging out with them more.
“Hi Vince, I’m Natalie,” said the brunette.
“I’m Taylor,” said her blonde friend.
“I’m Jess,” said her other blonde friend.
Vince stared at them. Taylor and Jess were plenty attractive, but he was spellbound by Natalie. Her long brown hair and deep brown eyes sucked him in. She dazzled like a supermodel.
Vince was stuck in a vortex and failed to realize his stare.
“Are you a big fan of the football team?” Natalie asked.
Vince snapped out of it. Natalie just asked him a question. He didn’t hear it.
He blankly nodded, hoping that ‘yes’ would be an acceptable answer.
“Great! It should be fun then!”
Okay. Good answer.
Taylor spoke up, “Come on, we’re not going to get good seats if we don’t hurry!”
Stephen turned his head. “Oh really? That’s funny. We’ve been sitting here waiting for you.”
Natalie laughed. It was true. He got them with that one. “Come on, let’s go.”
The six of merged into the human-highway traffic and headed to the stadium.
In light of the events of prom night, the senior year ‘Mr. Ixley Is A Dick-sley’ event was cancelled. In its place was a simple unnamed post-prom, end-of-the-year celebration. Students referred to it as ‘Spring Fling’, ‘End of the Year Bash’, or ‘Bruce’s Party’. Most of the events from ‘Dick-sley’ were still there, but the theme was free of Mr. Ixley bashing. Carnival games, musical acts, and a dance were the highlights.
The turnout was spectacular. Of course it was: Stephen and Bruce created the event. There were hundreds of hyperactive students filling the school gymnasium and cafeteria. The principal, Mr. Lewerk, a tall, fish-looking man, watched proudly. He was the security for the night and checked the ID’s of every student entering the almost-year-end party. Stephen and Bruce were typically regarded as a pain by Mr. Lewerk and Mr. Ixley, but they were willing to help the school when asked. This event raised more funds than any other event in school history. Mr. Lewerk would never admit it, but the school would miss them when they graduated.
While Bruce kept everyone dancing in the gym at the dance portion of the party, Stephen ran a special game in the cafeteria. The goal: defeat him in pool. The game cost $10 to play and any student who pulled off the feat would win a $100 gift certificate. A few students here and there had come relatively close. But close for Stephen meant the opponent knocked in more than three of their balls. So, not so close.
Stephen finished off another opponent. “Nice try. Thanks for playing,” he said as he shook his opponent’s hand. The next challenger walked forward. He was a thick-boned male, with muscles popping out of his cut-off T-shirt. Steroids? Maybe. He was huge. He was around the same age as Stephen, but it was strange: Stephen didn’t know who he was. Stephen knew everybody at school. But he didn’t know this guy. Somehow, oddly, he looked familiar. He had seen him somewhere before, but he couldn’t place it. Nonetheless, he approached him warmly.
“How’s it going? It’s ten dollars to play.” Stephen said as he handed him a pool stick.
He grabbed it. “I don’t want to play,” he said without emotion.
Stephen’s eyebrows furrowed as he tried t
o figure out who he was.
The mystery guy’s hands firmly wrapped around the stick. He seemed somewhat nervous. “I’m looking for Bruce. Do you know where I can find him?”
Stephen’s warm approach started to dim away. Something was wrong. “Why?”
“I have something I need to talk to him about,” the mystery guy said.
Stephen stared at him. This guy didn’t belong here. This was a students-only event. The principal, Mr. Lewerk, must have not been paying attention and this fellow sneaked in. Either way, Stephen didn’t feel comfortable around him and he needed to leave.
“Can I see your Student I.D.?”
The mystery guy walked away, pool stick in hand.
“Hey!” Stephen tossed his pool stick on the table and hurried after him.
The music pulsated, energizing everyone in the gym. It was dark, with the exception of colored spotlights bouncing around the walls. Bruce danced with a girl in his class, Anna. There was a giant circle of spectators around the two. He spun her around and her dress lifted, much to the delight of the male crowd. Bruce grabbed Anna’s hands and promptly swung her beneath his legs and pulled her back up. Their dance moves were fluid and perfectly in sync to the music. It was like the two were on moving on clouds.
Suddenly, there was an intruder in their circle. And he had a pool stick. Bruce stepped away from Anna and addressed the intruder, yelling, “Stephen’s pool game is in the cafeteria!” Unless, of course, the guy wanted to dance with the pool stick. That would be pretty cool, he guessed.
Bruce grabbed Anna and led her to the outside of the circle, leaving the pool-stick man alone in the middle. He wanted to see what this goofy-looking muscular guy was going to do. Bruce clapped to the beat, encouraging others to do the same. The guy stood in the circle and stared at Bruce. He didn’t even move. Wow, he wasn’t a very good dancer. Maybe he needed help.
Bruce approached him and bounced around and danced. Uninterested, the mystery guy swung the pool stick at him. Bruce, being the star athlete he is, ducked under the swing. It was an instant, instinctual reaction. Bruce didn’t even know what happened as a pool stick whooshed above his head. The wind from the stick chopping though the air rushed at his hair. The crowd grew loud, worried for his safety. But no one was willing to come to his aid. Not against a giant. Bruce popped up, took a few steps back, and looked at him again. Then he realized who it was. It was Ronnie, the third-grader he beat up back in first grade.
The music died down as the party dissipated. “I haven’t seen you since sixth grade,” Bruce quipped, “How you doin?”
Stephen pushed his way to the front lines of the circle. He looked on, worried. There was nothing he could do to help.
Ronnie spoke. “You made a big mistake.”
Bruce laughed. “You’ll have to be more specific than that.”
Ronnie held out the pool stick, planning to swipe Bruce’s head off. Bruce crouched in position, bending his knees and preparing for the worst. Ronnie could attack at any second. Bruce found himself in a fight and he had no idea why.
But he had to fight back.
Bruce kept a far enough distance from the stick. Normally, he’d have taken Ronnie down by now. But the stick could prove lethal. And there was no telling how far Ronnie wanted to take this.
Bruce watched the stick with a hawk-like gaze. Ronnie swung it at his head and it whistled around at a blazing speed. At mid-swing, Bruce fell backward to the ground and reached out his hands. He kept his eyes locked on the stick and caught it. It was an incredible move. The fierce impact stung his hands and quite frankly, he was lucky they didn’t break.
Bruce ripped the stick out of Ronnie’s hands and leapt to his feet with a new weapon in hand.
Bruce kicked Ronnie backwards. Ronnie stumbled, giving some space between them. Bruce tilted his head at Ronnie and smiled. He held out his hands at his side, still holding the stick, and asked, “You want to talk about this like normal people now?”
Instead, Ronnie charged. Bruce gripped the pool stick like a baseball bat. He had no choice: he swung at Ronnie’s head. And connected. Home Run. Ronnie collapsed to the ground and the stick shattered over his head. Bruce hit him so hard, he immediately fell unconscious.
Stephen watched in awe. David had just slain Goliath. Not that Bruce could truly be considered a David with his athletic ability, but Ronnie had become huge in the last few years.
Bruce walked over to Stephen and tossed him the pool stick, “Will you take better care of your equipment? You’re endangering the lives of everyone here.” Bruce smiled, unfazed by what just happened. He didn’t know what Ronnie wanted and he didn’t care. The guy was a loser and would always be a loser. Probably had too much to drink and came stumbling in to the school looking for trouble.
Mr. Lewerk ran to Ronnie’s limp body on the floor. “Oh my god, oh my god,” he mumbled to himself. He huffed as he checked to make sure Ronnie was okay. “Who is this?”
“Doesn’t go here,” Bruce answered, “I thought you were checking the people who came in.”
Mr. Lewerk had no response. On second thought, he couldn’t wait to be rid of Stephen and Bruce.
They were in the midst of watching the football game. The thunderous roar of the crowd shook their seats. The six of them sat in the student section, typically a bit more crowded and rowdy than other sections. Some students sat, some stood, and some didn’t even watch the game. Bruce had all but given up the search for Sara Ixley and now focused on the action on the field. On his left, Stephen laughed with Taylor and Jess. They weren’t paying much attention to the game at all. On his right, Natalie watched the game with an intense focus; she was a diehard fan. Past Natalie was Vince. What was Vince doing? He sat straight, watching the field with the blankest of stares on his face.
“Hey Vince,” Bruce said loud enough to transcend the crowd noise.
Vince turned his head as if Bruce just woke him up.
“Yeah?” Vince asked.
“Did you know Natalie is a biological engineer?”
Vince’s face lit up. He looked at Natalie and, with his face, asked, “Really?”
She smiled and nodded. “Really,” she replied without saying a word.
That was all Vince needed to know to make the trip worthwhile.
Bruce turned his attention back to the game. He was the odd man out now. In his isolation, Bruce soaked up the scene. There were thousands of people in the crowd. Security was easily noticeable in their bright yellow jackets. Bruce’s eyes wandered from the yellow jackets down to the sidelines. Players, coaches, trainers, and cheerleaders roamed the sidelines. The Michigan State cheerleaders caught Bruce’s interest immediately. They moved in perfect unison, with oddly exuberant smiles on their faces. It was part of their routine, he was sure. There was no way they were all that delighted to be constantly rah-rah-ing. He examined the faces and bodies of the envied cheerleaders. They were more attractive and in much better shape on the Michigan State side. How unfortunate.
All of the Michigan State cheerleaders were sleeveless, except for one; she had long, white sleeves covering her arms. That was strange. Maybe she was the captain. Bruce squinted his eyes to catch a glimpse of her face.
Then it dawned on him: the girl was Sara Ixley.
The shock of seeing her knocked Bruce backwards into his seat. His jaw dropped; it fell out of his seat and rolled down a few aisles. He didn’t know what he was feeling, but it hurt.
Bruce stood up and watched. The cheerleaders broke apart and wandered around. Sara approached one of the male cheerleaders, who leaned over and conspicuously kissed her. It was a quick kiss. Bruce snarled. The sight gave him a headache. Bruce continued, like an explorer in the wilderness, to watch Sara Ixley.
Natalie stood up to ask Bruce, “You okay?” He didn’t look right. “I’m fine,” he responded, “I just need to use the bathroom.”
“I’ll go with you.”
Upon hearing this, Vince shot up. “I have to go t
oo.”
The three of them hiked to the bathroom. Vince finished first and stood outside the bathroom, waiting for his friends to finish up and meet him. A food vendor grabbed his attention. His stomach commanded him to buy some food so he hopped over.
The stadium was like a giant outdoor party. People yelled, drank, and shoved each other. Vince struggled to squeeze his way through the crowd and managed to reach the line for the vendor.
“Hey!” yelled a voice from behind him.
Vince looked. It was a drunk Michigan State fan. His wide pupils and Michigan State t-shirt told him that much. “No cuts! I’m getting my beer before you, Michigan boy!” His group of friends behind him laughed like idiots.
Vince looked at the sign for the vendor. There were hot dogs, fries, and some other food items. No mention of beer. This guy was in the wrong line. “There’s no beer here,” Vince informed him.
The drunk Michigan State fan gave Vince a small shove. His eyes were struggling to remain open.
Vince stumbled and uttered under his breath, “You don’t need to do that.” He wanted to avoid a confrontation at all costs.
Too late. The drunk’s wrath had been awakened.
Bruce left the bathroom. Maybe he shouldn’t have been so distraught about Sara Ixley. Obviously, she had moved on just fine. She was just a young fling, he told himself. He vowed from that moment on to let her go. It wouldn’t be easy, but he would try.
Bruce looked for Vince. He wasn’t where he was supposed to be.
The irate Michigan State fan reminded Vince of a gorilla; he beat his chest and roared. Vince tried to walk away but was pulled back by his shirt.
The drunk yelled, “You don’t walk away from me!”
“Okay, sorry,” Vince conceded as he hung his head.
The rabid fan gripped Vince’s shirt and threw him to the ground. A crowd of people yelled in reaction to Vince’s launch. He found himself surrounded with a circle of people wanting to see what happened next. Bruce plowed through and helped Vince to his feet.
