If You're Reading This

by Trent Reedy

  “Think so.”

  “Dude, you better know so. Traer’s going to be tough.”

  I felt a hand slide across my upper back as Laura sat down in the chair next to me and motioned across the room. Kendra stood there with her arms folded over her chest and her head cocked to the side, trying to look like she absolutely didn’t care about all the guys making pig snorts and squeals at her. Laura said, “What has to be tough is being Kendra Hanson in that stupid rubber pig snout. I don’t know why she keeps working here. Nothing is worth that kind of humiliation.”

  Kendra and I barely knew each other. She was a freshman and we didn’t have any classes together. But her father worked as the night janitor at the elementary school, and her family lived in a trailer that made my house look like a castle. I knew why she worked here.

  “Mike,” Laura whispered, “if we win tomorrow night, you have to come out to Nature Spot. Me and Kelsey were just out there getting the fire pit ready. It’s going to be awesome.”

  “I’ll do my best,” I said, though I had no idea how I would get out there without getting in trouble with Mom. Then I noticed Ethan pretending to be focused on some of the plaques on the wall, as if he wasn’t listening. “Ethan and I might stop by.”

  “Oh,” she said, sounding surprised. “Yeah, totally bring Ethan. It’s going to be a blast. You’ll see.”

  Monty joined our table, and later Kelsey Hughes sat down too. I had a great night eating, talking, laughing, and being a part of the team.

  What I learned that Friday night at the game was that sometimes Coach Carter called it exactly right. The Traer Tigers were almost as good as Dysart. Their defense moved cat-quick in the secondary and they had a big, powerful line. We nearly went into the locker room at halftime without scoring, but managed a touchdown and extra point late in the second quarter to tie the game at seven.

  The second half went even worse. Traer received and scored early. After that, the Tiger defense had us pinned down. We couldn’t get much of anything going offensively. They sacked Matt Karn several times.

  Finally, with less than a minute left in the game, Sullivan broke loose with a forty-yard run. They took him down on the five. On second down, Coach called in a pass play, and Karn did a great job dodging the defensive back who broke through our line. Just after the game clock expired, he connected with Chris Moore for a touchdown, making the score thirteen to fourteen.

  We waited for the next play in the huddle. When Ethan came running onto the field, we knew Coach wanted us to kick the extra point, tie the game, and try to win it in overtime.

  Karn kicked at the ground. “Oh, come on. We can do this. Let’s go for two and win the game.”

  “No way,” said Cody. “We do what Coach says. We’ll get them in overtime.”

  “You have to do what he says,” said Hamilton. “If you try for the conversion, he’ll run us to death next week for ignoring his plan.”

  “Come on, guys!” Dozer shouted. “Man up! Let’s go for it!”

  “We can’t!” Cody said.

  I couldn’t believe they were arguing about this right now. We needed to hurry to avoid a delay-of-game penalty.

  “I’m the center. The choice is mine,” McKay said. He locked eyes with Karn. “High snap on one. That’s what you’re getting. Be ready.”

  “No way, man. It won’t —” Cody started.

  “No time for this,” Sullivan said. “Receivers, get open in the end zone. Everybody else” — he slapped Karn on the shoulder — “let’s give the man time.”

  Everyone on my team had lost their minds. We were going for a last-second unorganized pass play against the toughest defense we’d seen yet. If we scored, we won the game. If we didn’t, we would lose, and Coach would kill us for not going for the tie.

  Karn called out the cadence and McKay snapped the ball. I exploded forward, juke-stepping around one defender and rolling out to get open. One of the backs followed me deeper into the end zone while another moved up on me. I sped up to pass the second defender on my right, then cut to the left at the last second. It worked. I’d scraped off my trail defender for the seconds I needed to cut back inside.

  Behind our line, Sullivan checked one rushing defensive lineman. Ethan moved up to block another. Karn launched the pass in my direction, but a little high. I ran up a few steps and jumped to grab the ball out of the air.

  Someone slammed into me from behind, putting me on the ground, but I had the ball. I was in. The ref on the sidelines put both hands up in the air. We’d just won the game fifteen to fourteen.

  “My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth!” I screamed as I stood up and tossed the ball to the referee. Sullivan found me first, gripping me in a bear hug and swinging me around. Ethan punched me in the side of the helmet. More and more screaming Roughriders joined in. Even Karn grabbed me by my face mask and pulled me forward until my helmet hit his. “You are awesome!” he shouted.

  “Dude, it was your pass!” I said.

  Coach eventually got us to calm down and get through the line, slapping fives and saying “Good game” to each guy on the other team.

  “I got one question before we clean up and get out of here,” Coach said back in the locker room. “And think carefully about how you answer me. What happened on that last point-after play?”

  “Sorry, Coach,” said McKay. “My hand slipped on the ball. I sent back a bad snap. I’m just glad it worked out.”

  Coach narrowed his eyes and didn’t say anything. “At practice this week …” He rubbed his chin. I don’t think anyone in that locker room moved. A painful-looking smile cracked across his face. “I want you to do some extra snaps, McKay.”

  I wasn’t the only one who let out the breath he’d been holding.

  “Sure thing, Coach,” said McKay. “Won’t happen again.”

  “Good win, men. Let’s get cleaned up and head home!”

  We erupted into our usual celebration.

  After we got off the bus back at school and stowed our gear away in the locker room, Dozer put his arm around my shoulder. “You’re coming out tonight.” It was not a question, and his tone did not invite disagreement.

  “I’ll do my best,” I said.

  He poked me in the chest. “You better.” Then he smiled. “Oh, and nice catch.”

  For the first time in years, people really wanted me around. I couldn’t hold back my grin as I looked at all these guys who used to be big dangerous juniors and seniors to me, guys I had always secretly feared. Now they seemed like people, maybe almost like friends. My teammates had given me the best early birthday present I could have hoped for.

  * * *

  After both of the last two games I had avoided the crowd in the senior parking lot by going through the school and out the front door, but after tonight’s game, I had to admit, I wanted to be noticed. I went out the side door.

  The lot was mostly empty, but there were still three cars and a couple pickups. Some rough metal played from someone’s car stereo. People were gathered around talking and laughing. A big cooler full of ice and Gatorade sat on the sidewalk. Hopefully Gatorade or soda was all they had in there. Surely the guys wouldn’t be stupid enough to bring anything they weren’t supposed to have to the school parking lot.

  Nicky Dinsler sat on the hood of Eddie Bracken’s car with her feet on the bumper. Bracken stepped between her knees and whispered something in her ear.

  Gabe sat next to Maria Vasquez on the big metal toolbox behind the cab in the bed of his pickup. She tried to tickle his side, but he picked her up with one arm under her knees and the other under her shoulders. “Oooh,” she squealed and laughed. “Gabe, put me down!”

  Gabe jiggled her like he was about to drop her down to the pavement. “You want down?”

  She screamed and kicked her legs. “Put me down on the truck!”

  He swung her back to the bed of the truck and stood her back up again. Then he put his arms around her and leaned in to kiss her.

/>   Cody sat in his pickup with the door open and his legs hanging down. “Hey, Wilson, good job!” he shouted to me.

  “Yeah, way to go, stud!” Erica Larson called to me from where she sat on the trunk of Hamilton’s Dodge Stratus.

  “Nice catch, Wilson!” Hamilton said.

  I didn’t want to act like I’d come out there to show off, so I just waved and kept walking toward the front of the school, where I found Isma waiting by the bike rack again.

  “Hey! You were great!” She threw her arms around me. I squeezed her back. “I saw your catch!”

  “It was crazy,” I said. “We didn’t even really have a play. At the last second, the guys decided to go for two.”

  “Go for two?”

  “They decided to pass into the end zone for two points instead of kicking for one point. One point would have only tied it up. We needed two.”

  She looked so beautiful when she grinned like that and her nose wrinkled. “So you won the game!”

  “Whoa! Sullivan had some good runs. Chris Moore scored the last touchdown.” I pulled Scrappy out of the rack and noticed at once that someone had flattened both tires. “Great,” I said, looking down at the rubber bulging on the bottom of the rims. I leaned it against the rack and bent down to make sure the tires hadn’t been slashed.

  “They both went flat on the same day?” Isma said.

  “Someone let the air out of them,” I said. It had to be Rhodes.

  “Why would —”

  “It doesn’t matter. I can pump them up again. It’s just kind of a pain.” Any other time, I would have been really mad about this, but tonight, I couldn’t be angry for long. To make sure the rims didn’t tear up the empty tires, I carried Scrappy as we walked.

  “Are you still coming over tomorrow?” Isma asked.

  “Wouldn’t miss it,” I said. I would sneak out after Mom went to work, or I would say that I had to work longer on the farm. Either way, I wouldn’t let Isma down.

  The talk came fun and easy, the way it always did with Isma. The warm fullness in my chest spread out through my body in electric tingles when we stopped and stood close together under the big maple on the corner of her block. I don’t know if she leaned forward to kiss me or if I pulled her to me and kissed her, but when our lips touched, I didn’t want the moment to end.

  When she gently stepped away from me a few minutes later, I tried to hold on to her with my hands at her waist, my fingers hooking under her belt. She took my hands in hers and kissed them. “Good night,” she whispered, and I watched as she ran away from our tree to her front door, stopping again to wave before she vanished inside.

  At home, after I put my bike in the shed, I went around to the front door. As soon as I entered the dining room, though, I knew that all the wonder of the night was about to be taken away.

  Mom gasped and hung the phone up on the wall. “Do you know that I was just about to call the police? Where have you been?”

  “Mom, calm down. I was just —”

  “It’s almost eleven! I’ve been out of my mind with worry. Where were you?”

  “Working! I was at the farm.”

  “I called the farm! Nobody answered, so I was left to wait and pace around the house, imagining you hit by a semi or chewed up in a combine or —”

  “Mom!” I shouted. “I’m fine! I said I was working.” I felt a little bad lying, but I had to get her calmed down. We wouldn’t have this problem if she would just relax and let me do things. “We were out in the field, not sitting by the phone!”

  “Until ten forty-five? And you didn’t even call?”

  “It’s harvest time, Mom. There’s a lot to do out there.”

  Mary came halfway down the stairs, but stayed out of Mom’s sight. She pointed at her wrist as though she had a watch and then shot me a look like, What were you thinking being out so late? I glared at her.

  “I don’t know if it’s so good for you to keep working out there.” Mom started pacing the room.

  “Mom, it’s okay. I’m fine. We need the money.”

  “I expect you to call if you’re going to be out that late again.”

  I pressed my hands to my face. “Yeah. Fine. I’ll call. Sorry you were so worried.”

  She pushed aside some laundry on the cluttered dining room table and sat down, resting her head in her hands. “Michael, you’re sixteen tomorrow. I know I promised I would take you to get your license, but after tonight, I’m really not so sure. I’m worried that you’re going through one of these rebellious-teenager stages.”

  Oh no. I couldn’t handle this. The law said I was old enough for a license. How could she just decide by herself that I couldn’t get it?

  “I’m really sorry, Mom. I have to go to work tomorrow after we get my license. I promise I’ll talk to Derek about cutting back my hours some so I’m not out so late.” I’d resorted to another lie, but I could think of no other way to save this situation. “I’m really sorry.”

  “Okay, Michael,” she said. “We’ll get you your license tomorrow, but then we’re going to have a serious talk about your responsibilities and my expectations.”

  She sounded like she’d granted me some amazing favor. It made me sick, but I knew what she really wanted to hear.

  “Wow. Thanks, Mom,” I said. I took it one step further by going to her side to hug her. “Good night.”

  I went upstairs, taking care to make plenty of noise on every step so Mom would know I went all the way to my attic. I nearly punched the wall when I got there, but stopped myself so Mom wouldn’t hear me throwing a fit. I wasn’t a rebellious teenager. I only wanted to be a normal one. In about an hour, I would be sixteen, and she still treated me like I was Mary’s age. All I wanted was my license and the chance to have some friends, maybe a girlfriend, like everyone else. Like what Dad said he wanted for me.

  I took a seat at my desk, waiting for a while to make sure Mom had time to settle in. I looked over my books. How many Friday nights had I spent up here alone, trying to convince myself that they were all I needed? I’d read some good poems and great novels. But a lot of what Dad had said about the fun of high school had begun to make sense to me, and I wanted to get out to experience it.

  I stretched my neck and sore arms, closed my eyes, and took a deep breath to try to relax. I would make something happen tonight. Mom had no idea how much of a rebellious teenager I could be.

  Mom often watched TV in the living room after she finished work, and she always had the volume up way too loud. I could just barely hear it all the way up here. She was watching something or she’d fallen asleep watching something. Either way, if I went down the squeaky stairs and out the front door, I’d probably be caught. I wished I lived in one of those houses in the movies where a handy tree branch came right up to my bedroom window, but I didn’t have a normal bedroom, and the tiny windows in the attic didn’t open.

  But the window in the upstairs hallway did. I carried my shoes down the steps from my attic to the upper level. Then I slid the old-fashioned window up just a crack to see if it would make any noise. It wobbled a bit in the frame, so I had to push it up slowly and keep it steady. Then I popped out the screen, carefully lowering it to the roof of the back room below. I slipped one leg out and placed my foot on the roof.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Mary said in a loud whisper. She stood outside her bedroom door with her hands on her hips.

  “Shhh! Be quiet,” I whispered.

  She came closer to the window. “Mom will kill you! Or she’ll throw a fit and I’ll be the one stuck here dealing with it.”

  “She’ll never know.”

  “She will!” Mary whispered. “Because I’m telling her.”

  She went toward the stairs but I grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her back to me. “No you won’t!” I hissed. “And I won’t pay you any money or do anything to buy your silence. You’re going to stay out of my business, go back to your room, and forget that you ever saw this.” Mar
y’s eyes were wide. She flinched and looked at her wrist until I relaxed my grip a little. “Not one word, got it?”

  She nodded and I let her go. “You always try to tell me what Dad would have thought we should or shouldn’t do,” she said, rubbing her wrist. “I wonder what he would say about you sneaking out.” She didn’t wait for me to answer, but went back to her room.

  I stepped down onto the roof of the back room, closed the window, put the screen back in, and then put my shoes on. The roof was almost flat, and after I lowered myself onto my stomach with my legs dangling over the edge, I slid down a little before I dropped to the backyard. Since we lived on a dead end right next to the fields, the walk to the old railroad tracks was easy. With my arms up to shield my face from the sharp, dry leaves of the cornstalks, I cut across the rows, climbed over a barbed-wire fence, and then went up the slope to the tracks.

  Mary could talk all she wanted about Dad, but I knew better than anyone what he thought I should do. He’d told me to honor my mother, to take care of my mother and sister. Well, I did. I’d calmed Mom down tonight. I worked hard and paid for a lot of stuff around the house. Show me another kid in my grade who did that. I helped my sister more than any other brother ever had to. And what did I get? Constant reprimands from my mother and even from Mary. When would the time come for me to do something for me?

  Tonight. When I completed the fourth mission Dad had given me. I took off down the tracks toward the party at Nature Spot.

  The stars shined bright in the dark sky overhead — the same stars my father had seen when he’d made his way down these same abandoned train tracks to Nature Spot years ago. When he was my age, he’d crossed this same big limestone bridge that spanned the English River. People called it the Runaway Bridge. I’d heard a bunch of different stories about why people called it that, but tonight, as I sneaked out of my house, the name made perfect sense.

  Scrub brush and small trees lining each side of the tracks cast the railway bed in dark shadows. A tiny bit of light from the sliver of moon kept me from tripping on too many of the wooden railroad ties. I’d been walking forever. Everyone said Nature Spot could be found just off the railroad tracks a few miles south of town. It had to be coming up soon.