Was I having a heart attack of some kind? Maybe a seizure?
I shook my head at myself. If I wasn’t careful, I was going to turn into one of those crazy people – what are they called? Oh, yeah. Hypochondriacs.
“Hamilton! Are you up yet?” Cheryl called up. “Breakfast is almost ready. Estella’s just adding the finishing touches.”
Perfect. I was going to be sick today.
But there was no way I could miss out on the Homecoming game today. And staying home, or even going to the nurse, would kick me off that horse quickly enough.
I wondered if I had time to stop at a gas station or a fast-food restaurant to get edible, if not real, food before school started.
The whole school was abuzz with excitement as I arrived. With last week’s game canceled, and all the other unsettling concerns, there was twice as much excitement for Homecoming than usual. Of course, more effort was usually required for decorating the building, organizing the parade floats, and getting all the other useless annual Homecoming contests ready, too. But there seemed to be a marked increase in the amount of energy in the school, so I decided not to be completely cynical about it.
During classes throughout the day, I found it hard to concentrate; I couldn’t even seem to play Tetris (a really bad sign.) It wasn’t until ninth period that I started to feel better – if such a thing was possible in Lockard’s class. I supposed, given the choice between flickers of my psychotic dreamland and deep abiding hatred for drama class, I would rather focus on the latter.
Whoever said hatred was bad for you? Sometimes it is the only anchor you have keeping your world together.
For drama, we were working on the stage today, and while it may be sturdier than it looks, I was not willing – or stupid – enough to go on faith alone.
The stage at least looked like a set for Romeo and Juliet, which, considering the limits on arts funding, said a lot about the effort of the volunteers. With a small house-like balcony, fake trees, and a couple of ‘ye olde doors,’ it was nice enough. I gave credit where credit was due.
Still not worth seeing, though. I’d rather study for the history exam. Or go to the dentist.
“Okay, students,” Mr. Lockard called out, “Ten minutes left!”
I snorted. Even if this was Gwen’s passion and soul, I didn’t want anything to do with it.
“Hammy!”
Speaking of which… I smirked to see Gwen heading towards me. She must’ve come from her last class early. How… cute, I supposed. “Hi, Gwen.”
She grinned back at me. “I didn’t know you were in drama.”
“Yeah, well, I figured I needed something that wasn’t completely academic,” I remarked. It’s a safe enough comment with enough sting in it for me to still like it.
“Have you decided whether or not you’re coming to the play?” she asked.
No safe comment there.
Maybe if someone dares me to, bets me to, or blackmails me to, I thought to myself. “I’m still weighing the options,” I replied ambiguously. And it was the truth, too. I was weighting the options of going to the play, gouging out my eyes, or going skydiving without a parachute. I was not sure which would be the best use of my time.
“I can’t believe you’re being so difficult about it,” Gwen laughed teasingly.
“I don’t know if I really want to see it. After all, we did watch the movie in last year’s English class. Hardly worth to go see the second-rate play version.”
“Hey!” Gwen gave me an offended look and pouted.
“Second-rate play with only a first-class Juliet to boast,” I added swiftly, beaming at her.
Ah, charm always works. Immediately, Gwen lost her confrontational air and melted at my praise, biased though it was. “So you’ll come? For me?”
If it had been one of the guys, I’d have said I’d rather swim in a pool of spit than see Gwen kiss Tim. But her expression was so cheerful and happy and hopeful I decided not to be that cruel. I grinned. “What’s in it for me?”
Gwen rolled her eyes and laughed. “Well, now that you mention it, a couple of the cast members were thinking about going out for ice cream after the performance on opening night. You could come with me, if you’d like.”
I felt a rise of satisfaction brew inside of me. That was more like it. “Ice cream, huh?”
She smiled. “Tim and I wanted to go to Frosty’s down on the east side of Shoreside Park. All our friends agreed that was a great choice. Do you like that place?”
The mention of Tim sent my satisfaction plummeting like an airplane out of gas. “Uh… well, don’t forget, the history exam is the day after,” I said. “Can’t be out too late.”
“I’m in your class,” Gwen sighed. “I know about it. Remember? That’s me, in class, every day, just like you.”
“Hey, Gwen! You came early, too?”
The instinct to retch at the sound of Tim Ryder’s voice hit me hard. I really didn’t like that guy.
“Hey, Tim,” Gwen smiled shyly up at him. She waved and then turned back to me. “Hammy…” She looked between us, clearly torn in some manner of thinking or another. Tim scuttled back when she turned away from him.
I smiled at her choice – because she’d chosen me, and that was the right decision. “Are you coming to the game tonight?”
Gwen’s eyes glittered playfully. “What’s in it for me?”
“You learn fast,” I remarked with a laugh. “I don’t know. Would you… um, would you like to go somewhere after the game?”
“Maybe.” Gwen gave me a teasing smile. “We’ll have to see if there’s anything to celebrate.”
“Of course there’s something to celebrate. It’s Homecoming, remember?” I smirked, confident. “We haven’t lost Homecoming in twelve years. No way will we mess up this year.”
“Hey, Dinger, what’re you doing here?”
“Hey, Mike,” I choked down a laugh as I saw Mikey. He’s actually stumbling as he carried a large, wooden case. “Having some trouble there?”
“Shut up. It’s heavier than I thought,” Mikey shrugged. He leaned in a bit closer and said, “The girl carrying it was tiny. If you saw her, you’d never think she could carry it. Besides, at least I’m helping. You’re not doing anything at all.”
“I see you guys have become good friends again,” Gwen spoke evenly, treading softly. All the school knew Mikey and I weren’t always on the best of terms with each other.
“Mikey’s like a brother to me,” I shrugged. “Just because he’s a little girl-crazy and slightly backwards in his thinking doesn’t mean I’m going to abandon him.”
Since Mikey had come to the hospital to see me, I decided graciously to forgive Mikey for his stupidity (again.) Of course, knowing Mikey, it was bound to happen again, but hopefully, he would learn one of these days he wasn’t humanity’s prize.
“There’s Courtney!” Mikey exclaimed, waving.
I looked back to see a tall, blond, and hot girl. So this was Courtney. I had to commend Mikey on his choice if – and that was a big IF – she was able to string a coherent sentence together about something other than herself or the latest music and fashion trends.
“She’s so cool! I just love her hair,” Mikey gushed. Obviously, he’s in his ‘obsession’ phase.
I snorted disdainfully. “Well, that’s the test of true love, I guess.”
“Well, I’ve got to go,” Gwen said. “I’ll see you later, Hammy!”
“At the game, right?” I called after her; she just laughed in response, but it’s enough for me to take to mean yes.
Mikey grinned and poked me with his elbow. “So, you pulled the old ‘saving her life’ card?” he chuckled. “Looks like it worked. At least to the point where she’s not sure she likes Tim much anymore.”
“Really?” I looked skeptical. “She still talks about him at the wrong moments.”
“Wrong moments?”
“Yeah, you know, when she’s talking to me,” I frowned.
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“Oh,” Mikey snickered. “Well, she’s been kind of awkward around him lately. So maybe she’s just waiting for you to make the move. Girls are too subtle sometimes anyway. I would know after dating nearly all of them.”
“Well, you know me,” I replied. “I like to have them come to me.”
“Just don’t wait too long. Girls hate that, even if it does drive them crazy.”
I huffed indignantly. “What did Courtney say when you asked her out?”
Mikey grinned. “I haven’t asked her yet. You know me, Dinger. I like to have them come to me.”
I laughed. There’s a reason I was friends with Mikey.
8
Games
The buzzer sounded loudly over the roaring crowd. It’s close to the end of the fourth quarter, with the Falcons winning by three points. The newly crowned Homecoming Queen, a senior girl named Brandi, screamed in support for her boyfriend, who was, of course, the Falcons’ quarterback.
I was sweat-soaked as I jogged off the field. The Falcons were lucky so far this game. Upon arrival, we discovered the Clearburg Tigers had several Raider transfers from Rosemont on their team; no doubt that was careful planning by our old rivals. But despite the addition of some Raiders, I just scored the Falcons’ first and only touchdown in the whole game.
“Great catch, Dinger.” Jason sat down beside me. “I guess I’m not going to play tonight.” The half-hearted compliment was less cheerful than a doctor’s appointment.
I smiled as I shrugged. “Sorry.” I couldn’t help that I was playing my best tonight. Jason, as my alternate, was just going to have to suck it up and deal with it. “Looks like Rosemont’s been taking over Clearburg since their school was incinerated,” I remarked, watching Poncey’s struggle against an ex-Raider center twice his size.
“A lot of the Raiders went there, even though we’re closer.” Jason agreed as Simon was angrily tackled. “Ooh, that had to hurt. Simon will be black and blue tomorrow.”
“Yikes.” A lot of adrenaline was in the Tigers/Raiders team tonight; their offense was more violent than ever. Nearly twice as many fouls as usual had been called so far.
“No!” Jason screamed.
Looking up, I spewed water out my mouth as the Tigers, fifteen yards away from the end zone, began to drive it home.
“Stop them!” I jumped up beside Jason; both of us were yelling and cursing ferociously by the time our rival team scored.
The Tigers missed the field goal, thankfully, but there was still less than a minute for the Falcons to make a comeback.
“Offense, your turn! Show these guys what you’re made of!” Coach Shinal called as the ref’s time whistle was blown. I could tell by the tone of his voice he was very tightly wound tonight; that was something, considering he’s usually a very relaxed, easy-going guy. No doubt he hadn’t known about the new Tiger converts, either.
It seemed that the meteorite was once again causing me undue pain and suffering. It was going to be a hard game, and all things considered, Central could really use a win tonight. Morale had been lower than normal lately.
And my own morale tanked as I was putting down my water bottle. It was at that second I felt it – the jolt in my chest. Something was happening. An image of horrid, evil-green eyes fluttered across my line of vision.
Okay. I had definitely been awake for that one. And I had either imagined it or someone had managed to sneak hallucinogens into my water bottle.
Why did it only take the second between two of my heart beats for my life to change so horribly?
“Dinger! You’re up!” Coach Shinal called. “Go get out there! What’re you waiting for?”
For a quick second, I just looked at him. Was I imagining things? I felt my blood racing, my body temperature increasing; my arm tingled in pain again, like something on fire had hit me. But Jason pushed me off the sidelines, and Coach Shinal shouted, “Come on, Dinger, we need you!”
I shook off the déjà-vu-like feeling as best as I could. I hurried to my position, the right wing of the offense. Seconds later, the game was back on, along with all the pressure.
We needed this win. Everyone needed this win. Especially after two weeks of endless hours of news coverage on the devastation of the meteorite, the plague of worry unleashed upon my city, and my own personal hell of indecipherable, incomprehensible daydreams which threw me into a whirlwind of simultaneous contentment and confusion.
Okay, so maybe I needed this win. But I deserved it.
The Tigers kicked off, and the ball headed down the field.
Greg Wilson, our quarterback, grabbed it straight out of the air and took off. All the Falcon banners waved eagerly as he started to run as fast and as cleverly as he could. I hurried after him, in case I needed to tackle someone.
Fifty seconds were left in the game.
The crowd stood up, cheering as the band struck up an energetic tune, and the cheerleaders hopped up and down, waving their pompoms like crazy. Everyone was so full of hope. I grinned to myself; Greg was gaining yards, hurdling down the field like lightning. It wasn’t hard to believe we were about to win.
A moment later, the Clearburg defense rushed in. Greg skidded to a halt, hurried to the left, faked right. He dodged the main line of defense, only twenty yards away from a touchdown.
“Go, Greg!” Queen Brandi yelled down the field to her boyfriend.
So close! Fifteen yards left.
Greg had just reached the ten yard line when a Rosemont-turned-Clearburg defensive player knocked him down into the ground. But thankfully, Greg, who was just as good a player as me most of the time, managed to hang onto the ball.
A whistle was blown. Time out.
Ten yards and twenty-eight seconds remained.
“We can do this!” I yelled excitedly, joining the team huddle.
“Yeah,” Greg agreed. “We’ve got time, we’ve got strength. We’ve got smarts. We only have time for one play, so let’s make it a good one. Bring home the glory! Run play Alpha-22. Ready, break!”
“Break!” the rest of the guys shouted.
Play Alpha-22. I smirked. I knew what to do.
As Greg cried out, “Ready, 42. 22. Hike!” I felt a rush of cold wind, energizing me even as it slowed me down.
I just reached the end zone when light flashed before my eyes again. My hands flew up to my eyes, but my helmet blocks me from rubbing them clear.
It was then the onslaught of terrified screams began.
“No, please! Help!”
“Police, help!”
“Augh!”
I gave up trying to block it all out. I stopped running and awkwardly looked around.
A man in black caught my attention. Not only had he concealed his face and body, he had an awkward gait, like he’d stepped on something and it was causing him pain. I felt a rush of recognition as my arm sizzled with nerve-firing pain.
A name dripped through my body, but my mind wasn’t able to interpret it.
The man was just leaving the stands when I noticed all the people in his path were not moving, and they had lost expressions on their faces.
Just like my dream! Alarm sputtered inside of me, and I looked for a referee or someone who could help when –
Smack! The football hit me. Right in the head. Right before it bounced off and went flying.
I tumbled over and recoiled, both in surprise and in pain, as the whole Falcon side went crazy with rage, while the buzzer buzzed and Clearburg fans cheered.
I looked over to see the ball five feet away from me, lying innocently on the ground. “Ugh,” I groaned. I didn’t need half a stadium of people booing to know this wasn’t the happy ending we wanted.
“What went wrong, Dinger?” Jason asked, as his face suddenly appeared, hovering over mine.
Greg was complaining loudly; I could hear him even though my helmet. “I threw it right to you, Dinger! I can’t believe you missed it!”
“Hey, lay off, Wilson!” Mikey yelled, shoving
back our ticked-off quarterback. “Dinger still scored more in this game than you did! What were you doing, making googly-eyes at Brandi?!”
Greg shoved back as I watched, blank-faced. A small scuffle ensued until Coach Shinal showed up. “Stop it! Go congratulate the other team.” His lips were tight and his face was ashen white. We had good reason to listen.
The guys clearly wanted to complain some more, but they reluctantly headed over to slap hands with the Tigers. I started to follow, but I stopped short as I remembered. “Guys, we’ve got to go help! Those people need help!”
Jason turned on me. “Are you crazy? You’re the one who needs help! If you were going to fail, you should’ve let me play!”
“Jase, come on,” Mikey interjected. “Even Dinger’s allowed to make mistakes occasionally.”
I lost my resolve as despair clutched at my chest. For the first time in twelve years, Apollo Central had lost a Homecoming game. And it was all my fault! I was so upset I barely even noticed the sound of ambulances in the background.
As I walked into the locker room, I briefly glanced back in the direction of where the star had been in my dream. I saw nothing there.
“You think Dinger’s gone off the deep end?”
“I think he missed it purely on stupidity.”
“Maybe he was tripping or something.”
“Yeah, maybe tripping on drugs.”
“Shh, shh… there he is.”
As I walked into the room, half the team quieted down, while the other half started throwing out insults.
“The pass was perfect! Didn’t you want to win?”
Simon even came over and spit out, “We’re not going to get into the playoffs because we lost tonight! Thanks a bunch!”
“We lost the first Homecoming game in twelve years because of you!”
“That’s enough!” I shouted. “The reason I missed the ball, the real reason why, is because there were people in the audience who needed help!”
The Starlight Chronicles: Slumbering Page 8
