The Field (19 page)

When I climb into the back seat next to Will, he's leaning laconically against the opposite door with a cocky grin on his face. Paul turns around from the front seat and says angrily, “Normally I wouldn't give a crap what you do, but Sectionals start next week and we need you if we're gonna have a chance to win state. If you get kicked off the team for drinking, you're not just screwing yourself.”

“Chill out, dude. It's just a little vodka. No one is gonna find out and no one is gonna get hurt.”

“You don't know that,” I say in a flat, determined voice. “You're way overdoing the whole ‘party-guy' thing. I mean a beer here and there is one thing, but a flask? What the hell is that about?” I hesitate and take a breath before I say, less harshly, “Acting like this isn't going to change anything about your dad, you know.”

Will takes a sharp intake of breath and says in a low, mocking voice, “What the hell do you know about it? Did you use some of your ‘magic powers' to see what's going on at my house or with my dad? How's that going for you, anyway? Didn't seem to help much with that last goal.”

He couldn't have hurt me more if he had actually hit me. I recoil as if he did strike me. My best friend gives me a cold stare. I know he's dealing with the mess his dad left, but I'm done. I don't need to be his punching bag. I turn away from him and look out the window.

Paul jumps to my defense. “That was so low. We're supposed to be a team, remember? Have each other's backs. Eric's trying to help you, don't you get it?” He's practically in the backseat now, yelling at Will, but it doesn't do any good. Will pulls out the flask and takes a drink from it in defiance. Paul smacks the back of his chair and then turns back to the front. Tyler turns up the stereo as he pulls away from the curb. No one talks the rest of the way to school.

We have to wait in line for a few minutes to get to the admissions table. The show started at four, but the best bands don't play until 9 p.m., so people are really just starting to show up now. We pay our five bucks and the mom sitting at the table hands us the band schedule. As soon as we're in, Will goes off on his own looking for his new friends, just like I thought he would.

“Adios, amigos!” He calls to us over his shoulder, “Don't wait up for me!” Even though he's being a jerk and I don't really want to hang out with him, it still hurts that he's moved on from our friendship. He's someone I thought I would always be able to count on. I guess there's no question of me watching his back now since he won't be around and frankly, I don't much feel like it.

“That dude is messed up,” says Paul. “We've got to keep an eye on him so he doesn't do something stupid.”

“Good luck with that,” I say and shove my hands in my pockets. “He doesn't want our help.” We've moved to the back of the crowd to watch the band that's currently playing. The stage is set up at one end of the practice field, and booths from different school groups ring the fenced-in perimeter selling food, drinks, t-shirts and stuff to raise money. The lights are on, but parts of the field are in shadows from the oncoming night. I scan the crowd hoping to get a glimpse of Renee, but there are too many people milling around. And she hasn't replied to the text I sent when we got here.

“Hey, check it out, Winston is setting up,” Tyler says.

“Awesome, they rock.” We know some of the guys in Winston, and they're pretty good. The lead singer was telling me at lunch on Friday that they are totally stoked about playing tonight because they've scored a good time slot and they're debuting a new original song.

They've been playing for about ten minutes when we notice that the percussionist is doing something with his hair.

“What's Steven doing to his hair?” Tyler asks.

“I think he's got a pair of scissors and he's cutting it!” Paul says, “Yeah, he totally is—check out the song lyrics—it's ‘Cut Your Hair' by Pavement!”

“Holy crap, that is so awesome!” Steven's hair is longish and thick, and he's ratted it up on his head so it's big and bushy. “He's jabbing his hair with the scissors and cutting out chunks of it.”

Then there's some kind of commotion on stage and the music stops. Mrs. Stoat, the faculty advisor for the event, has appeared and is yelling at the band and gesturing at Steven and the floor of the stage.

“What's going on?” asks Tyler. “She looks pissed.”

Now Mrs. Stoat has thrust a broom at Steven and he's sweeping up the chunks of hair that fell from his head. The band has started pulling their equipment from the stage.

“Oh, man, she made them stop playing. That sucks!” exclaims Paul.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I fish it out hoping it's a text from Renee.

I
M DOWN IN FRONT OF STAGE LEFT SIDE.

B
RIGHT THERE.
I text back.

“I'm going to meet up with Renee down by the stage. I'll catch up with you guys later.”

“We'll come with you. I want to find out what happened with Winston and Mrs. Stoat.” Paul is already pushing his way through the crowd.

Tyler and I follow Paul through the path he's making as he weaves his way toward the stage. I can see over the heads of most of the crowd, and now that I know where to look, I see Renee standing with a group of people just in front of the stage. Her glossy dark hair catches the light as she throws her head back and laughs at something one of them is saying.

“Hey, babe,” I say quietly when I get up beside her and touch her lightly on the shoulder. She turns to me and smiles, which
makes my heart jump, and then puts her hand on my hip and gets up on her toes to kiss me on the cheek, which makes my heart pound.

“We've been dancing,” she says, and I see that little wisps of her hair are clinging wetly to her forehead and her face is slightly damp. She looks beautiful.

“Hmmm,” I say and lean down to give her a kiss on the mouth. She kisses me back and then pulls away when one of her friends says, “Hey, too much PDA here!”

Renee looks up at me with her eyes crinkling at the corners and says, “Would you like to meet my friends?”

“Okay,” I say and turn to them, but I really want to talk to Renee alone about my dreams.

“This is Miles and Anna and Emily. We're in AP Studio Art together.” I recognize them from the party the night we went to the star gazing rock. It's the guy with the nasty vibe and the hipster look, and the girl with the long red hair and army boots.

“Hey,” I say and nod to them. “Do you mind if I steal Renee away for a minute?” To Renee I say more quietly, “Can I talk to you alone. I want to tell you something.”

I take her wrist and gently pull her over to the side of the stage. “That was totally abrupt,” she says. “I wanted you to meet my friends and
talk
to them.”

“I'm sorry, we can go back in a minute, but I want to tell you about this wild dream I had on the ride home from the game. You were in it.”

“Really, what were we doing?” she says, poking me in the gut and implying something entirely different than what I meant.

“Not
that
kind of dream. We were walking in the woods at the lagoons, holding hands, and the star gazing rock was glowing, almost burning. I could feel a sort of emotional strength
from you and an incredible power or energy from the rock. The weird thing is that it felt so real. Even when I'm remembering it now, it feels like it actually happened and wasn't just a dream.”

“Do you think it was energy from The Field? You felt something there before. That's pretty wild.”

“I'm not really sure, but, yeah, it could be something like The Field. There's more—I've been having these other dreams. Really freakin' crazy dreams with explosions and fire. I haven't wanted to think too much about them because they pretty much scare the crap out of me, so I haven't told anyone.”

“Do you think they mean something?”

“That's the thing, I have no idea.”

We're off to one side of the stage, in a little alcove to stay out of the way of the bands setting up and tearing down equipment for their shows. Renee has her back to the wall and I'm standing between her and the activity, so I don't see Paul and Tyler come up behind me with Steven from Winston.

“Eric, you gotta hear this,” Paul interrupts us. “Steven says Mrs. Stoat told him that cutting his hair on stage was a health hazard and that he should be ashamed of himself! She made them quit playing before they got to play their new song.”

“That sucks. What does she mean—a health hazard? Unbelievable,” I say.

“Yeah, right?” Steven says. “She's a total buzz-kill. Of all the things we could be doing, and she freaks about me cutting my hair.” He runs a hand through his hair and little pieces of it flutter down around his face. I can see where the chunks are missing.

“No shit. It's not like you were doing shots or lighting up or anything. And the lyrics weren't inappropriate. Why are some teachers so cool and the rest don't get it?” Paul is really pissed.

“Who knows. She's wound just a little too tight. I mean it's great that she's helping with PantheRock and all, but she needs to lighten up,” says Steven. The next band setting up is one of the headliners. They've got three vocalists and a horn section and they're a fantastic cover band.

“Strategy's up next,” I say. “Let's go down in front so we can see better.” I turn to Renee. “We can go stand with your friends, and you can dance some more,” I say with a smile.

She leads me by the hand back to the pseudo mosh pit. I feel better just having told her about the dreams. It's not like I thought we'd come to some insightful conclusion, but it's nice to have someone else know and even understand. She asked me what they mean, but I really don't know. And frankly, given what they are, I'm not sure I ever want to find out.

The first song Strategy plays is a great dance tune. The crowd is whooping and cheering as we get to the front of the stage where Anna, Emily and Miles are dancing and watching the band. Anna squeals, “Hey girl!” and moves to the side to make room for us. All around us people are bumping and grinding to the beat. Renee stays next to me for a while, and then moves over to dance with Emily, who whispers something in her ear, making Renee laugh.

That leaves Anna beside me and she starts whipping her hair around and bumping me with her hip. I'm not sure how to take this—is she just including me in the group or is she coming on to me? You'd think that I'd be better at reading girls' intentions, given that I'm supposed to be perceptive about people, but I'm at a total loss. Now Miles is dancing with Renee and Emily, and it's clear what his intentions are. He's totally focused on Renee. I can see it in his body language and how he's raking her up and
down with his eyes. But it's more than that. Most guys are always checking girls out, but something about Miles bugs me. A lot.

I maneuver around Anna and Emily to get next to Renee. Miles is on Renee's far side so at least I can keep an eye on him better from this vantage point. All my scrapes and bruises from the game are starting to throb as the ibuprofen wears off, and the dancing is jarring my ribs. I'm used to working through pain, but I wouldn't mind leaving now with Renee. Maybe I can get Tyler to give us a ride home.

There's a lull in the music as Strategy clears off stage and the next band sets up, so I ask Renee, “Do you want to head out now? I'm pretty sore from the game today. Maybe we could go hang out someplace where I can sit down for a while.”

“There's still two more bands left to play, and I want to dance!” she says. “Maybe you could go hang out by the booths for a while. I think people are sitting on the grass back there.”

I can tell she's having a great time, and I'm about to say I can meet up with her later, when Miles drapes his arm across Renee's shoulder, pulling her into him and says, “Yeah, my girl's gonna stay here and dance the last sets with me, aren't you?” He's breathing hard from dancing, and it's almost like he's panting in anticipation. Renee looks startled at first and then laughs to cover it. The hairs on the back of my neck rise up and I feel like his gaze is a challenge. I've never been one to shy away from a challenge.

I take a step closer to him so he has to tilt his head back to look up at me. “She's not your girl—take your hands off her.” I knock his arm off her shoulder. He gives me a look of mock chagrin and says to Renee. “Hey, I'm sorry, Renee, I wasn't coming on to you or anything. It's just friends. I know you want to dance, that's all.”

“Of course, Miles, it's fine. I do want to dance,” she says and pats him on the chest. “Eric, what's your problem?” she demands, pulling me away from the group. When we get a few feet away, she turns on me angrily. “Miles is my friend, what are you doing?”

“He's bad news. I could tell the first time I saw him. And I know you weren't totally cool with what he did back there. I saw your face. I don't want you to hang out with him anymore.” As soon as I say this, I realize it's a mistake. Renee's not the kind of person who will tolerate being ordered around, and it's not like I really want to tell her what to do. I rub my forehead with my hand as if it will clear my brain. I'm really tired from the game, from everything.

“Are you telling me who I can be friends with? You don't own me.” She puts her hands on her hips defiantly. “And you're wrong about Miles. You don't even know him. He's a really nice guy, just a little awkward, that's all.”

I reach to grab her hands, but she pulls them away. I shove my hands in my pockets, exasperated. “I'm sorry, that came out wrong. You can be friends with whoever you want. It's just that I've had a bad feeling about him since that first party we went to. I can't explain it, but it's like somehow I know he's a jerk. More than a jerk. I just don't want him to cause trouble for you.”