Sylo Page 5

  Those few short minutes on the beach had me totally relaxed and feeling good for the first time in over a week. It was a welcome vacation that I wish could have lasted a lot longer than it did.

  “Hey! Tucker Pierce?”

  A man’s voice was calling to me from the road. I was afraid it might be an armchair quarterback from town who wanted to tell me how I’d never fill Marty’s shoes. I debated sprinting down the beach to escape, but after the practice I’d been through, my legs felt like lead.

  “Is that you?” the guy asked.

  He was coming closer. No way I could duck this.

  “Nope,” I called over my shoulder. “Don’t know anybody by that name.”

  The guy laughed and walked up behind me.

  “I don’t blame you, man. You’ve had a hell of a day.”

  Finally! Somebody who understood what I was going through. I turned to see who this sympathetic stranger could be—and came face to face with the surfer dude from the game. And the funeral. He was trudging through the sand wearing sunglasses and a big friendly smile.

  “Who are you?” I asked.

  He held out his hand to shake. “Ken Feit,” he said with authority. “Good to meet you, Tucker.”

  I tentatively shook his hand. His grip was strong and confident.

  “I’ve seen you around,” I said. “What’s your deal?”

  Feit laughed. “No deal. I’m on vacation. Been kicking around for a couple of weeks. The surf’s been outstanding along the East Coast so I’ve been working my way north from South Carolina, chasing waves.”

  It sounded like the kind of life I wanted to lead.

  Feit added, “It’s been great but I’ve got to get back to reality soon.”

  “What’s with the note-taking?” I asked.

  Feit pulled his small journal from the front pocket of his hoodie.

  “This?” He shrugged and said, “I guess you’d call this a working vacation. I heard about Marty Wiggins and wanted to see him play. So tragic.”

  “Are you a college scout?”

  “Nah. I work for a company that makes nutritional supplements. You know, ergogenic aids.”

  “No, I don’t know.”

  Feit laughed again. He laughed easily.

  “It’s not as complicated as it sounds. We manufacture nutritional substances to help athletes improve their performance.”

  “You mean like steroids?”

  “No! It’s all natural. We’ve got a new product that I’ve been testing and I thought of giving a sample to Marty but, well, I never got the chance.”

  “That’s why you were at the game?”

  “Yeah. Whenever I come across a serious athlete, I offer them a sample. It’s the best PR possible because the results are incredible.”

  “What does it do?” I asked.

  “Walk with me and I’ll tell you.”

  The guy seemed harmless so I figured it couldn’t hurt to take a walk. I took a step and stumbled a bit.

  “Whoa, you sore?” he asked.

  “I had a bad practice.”

  “Dude, that wasn’t bad. It was brutal.”

  “You were there?”

  Feit shrugged. “I told you, I’m always looking for serious athletes.”

  “Then you shouldn’t have been watching me.”

  “C’mon,” he said with a charming smile. “Let’s walk.”

  I had to work to keep up. His idea of walking and mine were two different things. His was closer to a jog than a stroll. He looked to be in his thirties and in decent shape. I was half his age and in football shape, but my legs were still heavy from practice. At least that’s what I told myself. I didn’t want to admit that an old guy had more stamina than me.

  “Check this out,” he said, reaching into the front pocket of his hoodie.

  He pulled out a clear plastic medicine bottle that was filled with brilliant red crystals.

  “This is what my company makes. We call it the Ruby, for obvious reasons.”

  I took the bottle and held it up to the dying light to get a closer look.

  “Looks like chunks of quartz,” I observed.

  “It’s mostly sea salts. We’ve been experimenting with the stuff for years and I think we’ve finally hit the right formula. It’s all about helping an athlete’s metabolism function more efficiently, which dramatically improves performance.”

  “How?” I asked.

  Feit laughed. Again. I wasn’t sure if he found everything funny or if it was a put-on to make him seem like a friendly guy.

  “You’d have to ask our research team about that. I just promote the stuff. But I guarantee you, once this hits the market, it’s going to revolutionize sports and athletic training.”

  He took the bottle back and twisted off the cap. “Here,” he said. “Give it a try.”

  “Whoa, no. I don’t think so.”

  “It’s totally safe, Tucker,” he assured me. “It’s basically salt. Some sugars too.”

  “And it’s not illegal?”

  “How can it be illegal? Nobody even knows it exists.”

  “I don’t know…”

  “I saw you play today, if that’s what you call it. Do you want to repeat that performance again tomorrow? Or in a game?”

  I didn’t have to answer that.

  “Here,” he said, grabbing my hand.

  He tapped a few tiny crystals into my open palm.

  “That’s, like…nothing,” he said. “Let it dissolve in your mouth.”

  I stared at the red crystals. They were almost pretty.

  “I don’t even like taking aspirin,” I said.

  Feit laughed.

  “Why is that funny?” I asked.

  “Look, it’s an absolutely harmless natural salt. I’ll prove it to you.”

  He tapped a much larger portion into his hand, screwed the cap back on the bottle, and jammed it into his pocket.

  “If it was dangerous, would I do this?” he said and licked the crystals from the palm of his hand. He then licked his lips, and smiled. “Tasty too.”

  I watched the cocky guy closely, not sure of what to expect.

  “Yeah, so?” I said.

  “Race you to the lifeguard tower,” he said with a smile.

  “No way. I’m too sore.”

  “Or maybe you’re afraid to get beat by an old man.”

  He took off his sunglasses and gave me a wink and a smile. He then took off running faster than I thought was humanly possible. He blasted along the shore, digging through the soft sand like he was on turf.

  I stood there staring, stunned. The lifeguard tower was at least a hundred yards away and he was there within seconds. How could that be? Was he really that fast? Or was it the Ruby?

  I examined the crystals in my hand. It was salt. From the sea. What harm could it do? I was torn between fear and curiosity. I raised my hand and took a closer look, as if I could possibly unlock the secret of the stuff by staring at it.

  I may have been looking at the crystals, but what I was seeing was Kent Berringer’s smug smile as he stared down at me through his face mask after nearly knocking me cold. I didn’t ever want to see that again.

  I licked the rough crystals off my palm.

  They were sweet in more ways than one. An instant wave of warm energy flowed through my body. Through my veins. My legs no longer felt heavy. Miraculously, impossibly, the soreness was gone. Everything snapped into focus as my senses perked up. The sunset seemed redder, the surf sounds louder, and the smell of the ocean more distinct. I didn’t question what was happening. It felt right and I knew there was only one thing I could do.

  Run.

  I took off sprinting along the shore. The pain from the punishing practice was a dim memory. I felt the suddenly powerful muscles in my legs flex quickly, driving me forward, pushing me faster than seemed possible. Within seconds I was standing next to Feit at the lifeguard tower. I wasn’t even out of breath.

  “And that’s the Ruby,�
� he declared with a proud smile as he stood leaning against the tower with his arms folded.

  I stood there, flexing the muscles in my arms, making a fist, experiencing my newfound strength. It was exciting…and frightening.

  “This is…this is wrong,” I said.

  “Wrong?” Feit said with a scoff. “What could be wrong about unlocking your full potential? Now you can show the team what you’ve really got…and Olivia too.”

  I snapped a look at him. How did he know about Olivia? My blood was racing and I didn’t think it was only because of the Ruby. It was like the salts had increased my brain power as well as my physical ability…which was probably why a thought came to me.

  A horrible thought.

  “Did Marty take this stuff?” I asked, though I feared the answer.

  “No,” Feit said quickly. “I told you, I didn’t get the chance to give it to him. Who knows? Maybe if he had used the Ruby he’d still be alive.”

  Nothing felt right. I didn’t like what was happening to my body and I didn’t want to be hanging with this stranger who had seduced me into taking a substance I knew nothing about.

  “I…I don’t want it,” I said, backing away.

  “Really?” he asked. “You don’t want to be a star?”

  “I…I don’t know what I want, but I don’t want to feel like this.”

  “That’s your choice,” he said with a shrug. He wasn’t laughing anymore. “If you change your mind, I’ll be around.”

  I turned and ran up the beach, headed for town, sprinting impossibly fast. I tried to slow myself down but my body had the throttle, not my mind. I made it off the sand and kept going until I reached the small park at the end of Main Street. Thankfully nobody was around. I lay down on the grass and stretched out, willing myself to relax. I don’t know how long I lay there. Five minutes? Twenty? Eventually I felt the effects of the Ruby leaving my body. The first sign was that the soreness in my legs returned. I never thought I would be relieved to feel pain. A weariness then washed over me as if the effort I had been putting out had sucked every last drop of gas from my tank. I sat up and rubbed my face. What had happened? Whatever the Ruby had done, it was wrong and I knew that I would never use it again…no matter how great a player it could turn me into.

  I got up and jogged home at a normal pace and went straight to my room. I didn’t want to talk with my parents because I didn’t know what I would tell them. I don’t claim to know how the human body does what it does, but I didn’t believe for a second that what those crystals did was natural or legal, no matter what Feit said. I laid down on my bed in the dark, flexing the muscles of my legs and my arms, trying to sense any lingering effects.

  After convincing myself that I would live, I went to my computer and feverishly Googled any key words that might lead me to answers: ruby, Feit, fight, “fite,” sea salts, steroids, even ergogenic aids. The last search gave me some information about increasing athletic performance but I couldn’t find anything about a red sea salt that could instantly transform someone into Superman, let alone a company that manufactured the stuff.

  I decided to keep my adventure on the beach to myself. I didn’t want anybody to know I had been stupid enough to take a strange substance from a complete stranger. Still, I couldn’t stop thinking about what those red crystals had done for me. For those few moments when I was under their spell, I was invulnerable.

  I wanted to know more about it…for all sorts of reasons.

  SIX

  “What’s wrong?” Quinn asked.

  “Why? What do you mean? There’s nothing wrong.”

  I answered too quickly, which was a sure tip-off that something was, in fact, wrong. My adventure with the Ruby had been the night before and I could hardly think about anything else.

  “Whoa, easy,” he said defensively. “I was just wondering why you were letting Kent move in on Olivia without a fight.”

  “Olivia?” I asked, momentarily baffled. “Oh. That. Sorry.”

  “What did you think I meant?” he asked with confusion.

  “Not that. I mean, not that there’s anything else wrong but, I mean, there’s nothing wrong. Why do you ask?”

  Quinn stared at me suspiciously as we walked along Main Street toward school. He knew something was up and it bugged him that he couldn’t put his finger on it. I had to get him thinking in the wrong direction, which wasn’t easy to do.

  “There’s nothing between me and Olivia to fight over,” I added quickly.

  “There could have been,” he said sternly. “But you blew it.”

  I shrugged. “Kent’s an all-star.”

  “And rich,” Quinn added. “Don’t forget rich.”

  “Jeez, are you trying to make me feel bad?”

  “Yes!” he shouted. “You can’t let that guy intimidate you just because he’s smart and good looking and athletic and—”

  “Rich. Don’t forget rich.”

  “Doesn’t matter!” Quinn snapped. “The only real difference between him and you is that he gets what he wants because he believes he can.”

  “And he can brutally dominate me on the football field.”

  “You’re making me nuts, Tuck. Where’s your head? Good stuff doesn’t just happen. You have to fight for it. But you don’t. You don’t even have the guts to talk to Tori Sleeper.”

  “Forget Tori! Who says I want to go out with her anyway? That’s just you pretending to know everything about everything.”

  “But I do.”

  “No, you don’t. Why are you so obsessed with me getting a girl anyway? Worry about yourself.”

  “I’ve got a girlfriend.”

  “Who?”

  “Neema Pike.”

  I laughed. “Really? Just because she friended you on Facebook doesn’t make you a couple.”

  “Whatever. This isn’t about me. We’re talking about you and Olivia.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about. She’s leaving the island soon anyway.”

  “Irrelevant, but go on.”

  I took a breath to calm down, then said, “I like Olivia. I liked hanging out with her this summer. But if she only likes guys who have a boatload of money and can wreak havoc on a football field, I’m not interested.”

  Quinn shook his head with disappointment. “Typical. Whenever you think something’s out of reach, you back off and say you didn’t want it anyway. What are you afraid of? Losing? Looking bad? That hasn’t stopped you from playing football.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m quitting the team,” I said softly.

  “What!” Quinn shouted. He hadn’t expected that. I thought his head was going to explode. “You’re giving up on that too?”

  “What’s the point? I’m getting killed out there. I’m telling the coach today that I’m done.”

  “This is so typical. You were fine when nobody expected you to be any good but now that you’ve got to step up you just…give up.”

  “I’m being a realist.”

  “Realist?” Quinn spat as if the word left a bad taste in his mouth. “What does that mean?”

  “It means I pick my battles.”

  “It means you’re afraid of failing,” he said with disdain.

  “What makes you such an expert on football anyway?” I asked. I was losing patience with Quinn’s accusations. “And girls?”

  “This isn’t about football or girls. It’s about vision. You gotta have a vision.”

  I laughed. “Really? What’s your big vision?”

  Quinn went uncharacteristically silent. That threw me. I was expecting another quick, cutting comeback.

  “I don’t know yet,” he said with total sincerity. “I’m being honest. I don’t know. But I’ll tell you something I absolutely believe: One day I’m going to leave this island and do something that people will remember me for. Something important. Bet on it, and don’t laugh. I see you starting to laugh.”

  “I’m not laughing,” I said, suppressing a laugh.

  “My pare
nts want me to go into medicine but I’m thinking politics. I’m smart. I could run things as good as the next guy. Or maybe research. There’s a lot of undiscovered stuff out there waiting for somebody like me to uncover. Big stuff. But whatever happens, the one thing I will not do is stay here and grow old on this chunk of sand.”

  I wasn’t sure how to react to that. So many thoughts flew through my head, not the least of which was the odd reality that Quinn had given me a straight, heartfelt answer for a change. The other was that I was somehow a loser for being happy on this “chunk of sand.”

  “Then go for it,” I said. “I’m sure whatever you do, you’ll be brilliant. But just because you feel that way doesn’t mean I have to. There are lots of important things you can do. They don’t all have to be written about in history books. It’s just as important to take care of the little things.”

  Quinn let that roll around in his head for a while, then nodded thoughtfully and said, “Okay. I buy that. So do me a favor.”

  “What?”

  “Start taking care of the little things.”

  Arguing with Quinn made my head hurt. He had turned a simple debate about whether or not I should compete for Olivia into a philosophical speech about our futures. He was thinking years ahead while all I wanted was to get through the day.

  I didn’t quit the team, and not because Quinn had shamed me out of it. The idea of facing the coach to tell him I was quitting was actually more daunting than getting pounded in practice. Maybe Quinn was right. I was even afraid of failing…at failing.