Sylo Read online

  Practice was marginally better because I knew what to expect. I felt as though I was finally earning some respect from the other guys if only because I didn’t whine about getting hammered on every play. By Wednesday we stopped hitting and concentrated more on timing and getting me to execute the plays without thinking. By Thursday I was actually starting to have some fun. We wore our game uniforms and basically ran through plays at half speed. There was a moment where I stood back, took a breath, and thought about how cool it was that I was going to play a major role in the spectacle that was Friday night football.

  Then a harsh reality hit: I was going to play a major role in the spectacle that was Friday night football. Meaning, we had a game. If my own team wanted to take me apart, I couldn’t imagine what would happen playing against guys who actually had a reason to want to destroy me.

  We were playing Greely High in Cumberland on the mainland. Living on an island made it a challenge to travel to away games. As soon as school got out, we boarded a bus and the bus boarded the ferry. I’d made the crossing a hundred times and never felt so seasick. It probably had more to do with nerves than ocean swells but either way, I felt like ass. The bus ride to Cumberland took another half hour.

  The best thing about that night was being introduced before the game with the starting offense.

  “At tailback…number fifteen…Tucker Pierce,” came the announcement and I ran through the gauntlet of cheerleaders and onto the field. Only a handful of fans from Arbortown had made the trip but it didn’t matter. To me it was as good as running onto the field at Gillette Stadium.

  There was a moment of silence for Marty, after which a couple of guys came up to me, pounded my shoulder pads, and said things like, “We’re with you, Rook” and “Let’s get ’em.” I was over the moon. These were my teammates. We were in this together.

  Kent grabbed my face mask, pulled it close to his, and hissed, “Don’t screw up.”

  Not exactly a “win this one for the Gipper” speech but I didn’t let it get to me. This was football and it was game time. The ref blew his whistle, the ball was kicked to us, and we returned it to the twenty-five. The impossible then became reality as I trotted out onto the field and into my first official huddle.

  And that was pretty much where the fun ended.

  The game was brutal. The Greely guys were like hungry sharks and I was bloody meat. It was much faster than in practice and I was one step too slow—not good for a guy who was carrying the ball. Fortunately we had a solid defense, so the game wasn’t a blowout, but I was fairly useless. When all was said and done my stats showed fifteen yards gained on twelve carries with one fumble lost and two dropped passes. We lost by ten points. Brutal.

  When the game ended, I jogged off the field trying not to look as beaten as I felt. I glanced into the stands to see my parents cheering gamely. I didn’t know if I should be grateful for the support, or embarrassed that they were there.

  Behind them was another fan who stood out from the crowd because he wasn’t cheering. Mr. Feit had come to the game. Seeing him made me stop short. He gave me a sympathetic smile and a shrug as if to say, “Hey, don’t blame me.”

  I briefly imagined how differently the game might have gone if I had taken him up on his offer to use the crystals he called the Ruby, but there was no way I could use that stuff again.

  Could I?

  The next day I was so sore I could barely move. Luckily it was the weekend of the annual Lobster Pot Festival and Dad had given me the day off. I took advantage and slept until noon.

  “You gonna sleep all day?” Dad asked, poking his head into my room.

  “No,” I said, groggy. “All weekend. Set the alarm for Monday, would you?”

  He laughed and sat at my desk, which meant he wanted to talk…which also meant I had no hope of getting back to sleep.

  “What?” I asked suspiciously.

  “Nothing,” he said with a laugh. “I just wanted to tell you how proud we are of the way you’re handling things.”

  “I’m getting my ass kicked.”

  “True, but you’re hanging in there and that’s what we’re proud of. At least I am. Your mother would just as soon you pack it in.”

  I sat up, trying not to wince in pain…and happy that I hadn’t quit the team. Hearing that Dad was proud of me was worth it, at least at that moment. Next week would be another deal.

  “Maybe she’s right,” I said. “I don’t know what I’m trying to prove or who I’m trying to prove it to.”

  “You don’t have to prove anything to anybody, except yourself.”

  “That’s pretty much what Quinn said.”

  “He’s a smart guy,” Dad said. “Annoying, but smart.”

  Dad had that serious “father-son important talk” face on. I wasn’t in the mood but I was too sore to run away.

  “I’m feeling a lecture coming on,” I said.

  Dad chuckled again. “No lecture. I want you to talk.”

  “About what?” I was getting nervous that he might know something I didn’t want him to know…like about our midnight rides or my adventure with the Ruby.

  “Do you like living on Pemberwick?”

  “Yeah. You know that.”

  “I do. I just wondered if you missed Connecticut.”

  “A little, I guess. But we’ve been here for five years. This is home now.”

  Dad nodded but he looked troubled. I thought back to the strange conversation he and Mom had about moving to Pemberwick because it was a safe place.

  “What’s going on, Dad?” I asked. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  He sat up straight, as if surprised by a question he wasn’t prepared for.

  “No,” he said, too quickly. “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t have a problem with being here.”

  “I don’t have any problems,” I said sincerely. “Quinn’s another story. He can’t wait to get out so he can do something historic, but I’m in no rush to go anywhere. What’s wrong with working in gardens? Though I was thinking we should make it sound more important and call it landscaping.”

  I smiled, thinking he’d laugh at the comment, but he actually looked sad.

  “Did I say something wrong?” I asked.

  “Nah,” Dad replied. “Just know that you don’t necessarily have to travel to do something important.”

  “That’s what I told Quinn.”

  Dad shook off his dark mood, smiled, and stood up. “Well, you’re a smart guy too. You take after your dad. Now get up and go into town and have some fun.”

  He left me alone with an uneasy feeling. My parents and I always got along great, which was a good thing considering I was an only child. (A term I hate, by the way. It sounds so forlorn or something.) We talked about everything. Even uncomfortable things like hygiene and sex. When Dad lost his job, I think it brought us even closer. It was like us against the world. We had to stick together and we did it by moving on and making a whole new life on Pemberwick. It sounds clichéd, but we were a team.

  So it was strange to think that they might be keeping something from me. I suppose I shouldn’t judge. We all have secrets. But if they asked, I would tell them about the midnight rides. And the Ruby. I had to trust that they would do the same for me and let me know if anything was seriously wrong.

  Of course they would. Why would I think otherwise?

  I was tired of stressing. It was the day of the Lobster Pot Festival and I was ready to kick back, eat some bad food, listen to corny music, and basically spend the day having the kind of fun that a lazy weekend on Pemberwick Island was all about. More than anything else, it was a day to try to forget all of the lousy things that had happened over the last few weeks and just enjoy the moment.

  The moment.

  I think back on it. A lot. It’s like revisiting a favorite place. A place you wish you could go to again. But I can’t because that place doesn’t exist anymore, except in my memory.

  SEVEN
r />   The Lobster Pot Festival was the annual blowout that marked the end of summer. Three blocks of Main Street in Arbortown were closed off to traffic, making the whole downtown feel like one big party. Restaurants set up carts loaded with hot dogs, sodas, and lobster rolls. There was a band on every other corner playing rock oldies. Red, white, and blue banners hung everywhere. It was bigger than the Fourth of July.

  This was my fourth Lobster Pot Festival and the most crowded by far. Oddly, there were a lot of faces I didn’t recognize. Since the festival fell so late in the season, it was geared mostly to locals, but there were plenty of non-locals there to enjoy the day. I figured it must have been because the warm weather had stuck around longer than usual, so many tourists did, too. That was okay. I liked the energy. Kids ran everywhere. People wandered around in their khaki pants, Izod shirts, and Topsiders while downing loads of ice cream and cotton candy. Arcade booths were busy with guys trying to impress girls with their ability to knock over bottles with a baseball or hit free throws. Old folks danced in front of the bands, not caring what anybody thought of them. There was a sailboat race in the harbor and fireworks at the end of the day to cap it all off. It was always a great event…the last blast of summer.

  I wandered through the crowd, looking for Quinn. Instead, I found Olivia. She was off by herself in a small alleyway, pacing and talking on her cell phone. As I walked closer, I could see that she was deep into a conversation. I didn’t want to interrupt, so I stood on the sidewalk, waiting for her to finish…and heard what she had to say.

  “No!” she cried. “No, this isn’t what I agreed to. I’ve already been here too long.”

  She was pissed off.

  “I want off, now. Right now,” she demanded. “Before it’s too—”

  She kept trying to get a word in, but whoever she was talking to wouldn’t let her. I felt bad eavesdropping and started to move away when she spotted me. Her eyes widened as if she had been caught doing something wrong. I froze, not sure what to do. She looked me square in the eye and I saw that she was not only upset, she was crying.

  “Stop,” she said into the phone, suddenly cold. “I get it. Goodbye.”

  She punched the phone off.

  “I’m sorry,” I said nervously. “I didn’t mean to—”

  “It’s okay,” she said, wiping her eyes. “That was my mother. I’m so embarrassed.”

  “Don’t be. Is she coming to the festival?”

  “No,” Olivia said curtly. “She went to the mainland to do some shopping…while I’m here.” She said this with a shrug and a big fake smile as if this were the last place she wanted to be.

  “Are, uh, are you all right?” I asked.

  She sniffed and nodded. “Yeah. Just homesick. I didn’t think we’d be staying here for so long. But hey, things change.”

  I wanted to put my arm around her and tell her it was okay and I’d make sure she had a good time at the festival, but I didn’t get the chance.

  “Homesick?” Kent exclaimed as he walked up with a swagger. “That’s not allowed on such an awesome day.”

  Olivia smiled bravely. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

  Kent stared me down and said, “I’m surprised you can walk, Rook.” He looked to Olivia and added, “It was an ugly night for our boy.”

  I wanted to argue and defend myself, but he was right.

  “Sorry, Tucker,” Olivia said with sympathy. “Maybe football isn’t your sport.”

  I opened my mouth to argue with her, too, but stopped. She was probably right too.

  Kent put his arm around her waist and said, “C’mon, let’s have some fun.”

  Olivia giggled coyly and nodded. “Yes. Let’s.”

  She seemed to have shaken her dark mood, though I couldn’t help but think it was an act, because she reached out and touched my face and in that brief moment I saw the sadness return to her eyes.

  “You are such a good guy, Tucker. I’m sorry.”

  “For what?” I asked, genuinely confused.

  “Take care of yourself,” she said as Kent led her off.

  It was a weird thing for her to say. “Take care of yourself”? It sounded so final, like we’d never see each other again. Who knew? Maybe we wouldn’t. Her mother might give in and take her away from Pemberwick at any time. Her school had to be starting soon. All the more reason for me not to care that she had picked Kent over me.

  I decided not to give it another thought. The day was about having some festival fun. I bought a hot dog and a soda from a cart, downed both, and was about to go for seconds when I caught sight of Tori Sleeper. She stood by herself in front of Molly’s Candy Store, leaning on a parking meter and sipping a Moxie. A band was playing an ’80s song (badly) and she was bopping her head to the beat. Her hair was down and loose for a change and she didn’t have on her baseball cap. I almost didn’t recognize her.

  I wanted to walk right up and ask her if she was having a good time. I wanted to tell her about what Quinn and I had seen on our midnight ride. I wanted to ask her why she always looked so sad. I wanted to…but I couldn’t. Quinn had said she wasn’t interested and that was good enough for me. So I put my head down and walked past.

  “Tucker!” she called out.

  I stopped dead. Had I heard what I thought I’d heard? I turned around to see that Tori was looking right at me. I pointed to myself dumbly as if to ask, “Me?”

  “Got a minute?” she asked.

  I sure did. I put my hands in my pockets and walked back to her as casually as possible, which meant I had to force myself to keep from running.

  “What’s up?” I asked, trying to sound equally casual.

  Tori didn’t smile, but kept her eyes locked on mine. Quinn was right. The girl was confident. And intimidating. I couldn’t tell if she wanted to be social or punch me in the face. The terrifying thought hit me that she was going to rip me a new one for telling Quinn I thought she was hot. Even though I hadn’t. Even though I did.

  “You guys were out on the bluffs last week,” she said with no emotion.

  I don’t know what I expected her to say, but it wasn’t that. I did my best not to register surprise.

  “We were riding by,” I said, trying not to reveal anything. “Why?”

  “Quinn said you saw something.”

  “When did he tell you that?” I asked, giving up on being coy.

  “Last Saturday. Outside of Lesser’s Fish Market.”

  Right. The knots. He hadn’t been embarrassing me in front of Tori after all, he was telling her about what we saw. It made me slightly less pissed at him.

  “I don’t know what it was. There was a big shadow floating over the water and it just…blew up.”

  Tori nodded thoughtfully. I could almost hear the wheels turning in her head. She dumped her empty soda bottle into a trash can and said, “What was it?”

  “My dad thinks it was a military exercise. Quinn thinks it was a UFO.”

  “What do you think?” she asked, her eyes boring right into me. Challenging me. Why did this girl make me so nervous?

  “I—I have no idea.”

  Tori thought about what I had said, then looked away from me and back to the crowd. It was like she was done with me and had retreated back into her own world. I stood there awkwardly, not sure of what to do or say next.

  “You know this song?” I asked. “It’s from an old movie. Back to the Future. My parents make me watch it once a year whether I want to or not.”

  Tori didn’t react. She wasn’t being obnoxious; it was more like her mind had traveled somewhere else. She stood there leaning on the parking meter with her arms crossed.

  “Ever see it?” I asked.

  “No.”

  “Oh,” was all I could think of saying. I waited a few seconds then said, “Good movie.”

  It felt as though the temperature had suddenly dropped twenty degrees but there was no way I was going to skulk off like some loser.

  “A lot more people here
than last year,” I said, lamely.

  Tori didn’t look at me when she said, “I hate this.”

  “What?” I asked. “The song? The band? The festival?”

  “Yes.”

  Yikes.

  “Tucker!” Quinn exclaimed as he jogged up, thank God. “I just parked the DeLorean, Future-Boy!”

  Tori didn’t react.

  “You know, Back to fhe Future,” Quinn said to her, hoping for a reaction.

  “She’s never seen it,” I offered.

  “Seriously?” Quinn asked, sounding shocked. “I’ve got the DVD. How ’bout if we all go over to my house tonight and watch it?”

  Tori continued her non-reacting.

  “I’ve got Junior Mints!” he added temptingly.

  I had to laugh.

  Quinn sniffed the air and said, “Hmm…who smells so lemony fresh?”

  Tori finally showed life. Her back went stiff, she jammed her hands into her pockets, and she hurried off.

  “See ya,” she said and disappeared into the crowd.

  Quinn and I watched for a second, then I punched him in the arm.

  “Ow!” he wailed. “What was that for?”

  “Idiot. We worked on a lobster boat all summer. What did they tell us to use to get rid of the fishy smell on our hands and clothes?”

  Quinn thought for a second, then winced when the realization hit him.

  “Lemon juice.”

  “Her dad is a lobsterman.”

  “Ooh. I guess that wasn’t cool. But at least you finally talked to her.”

  “Probably for the last time, thanks to you.”

  “Sorry, man. I’ll apologize.”

  He started to follow her but I grabbed his arm to stop him.

  “Don’t make it worse. Let’s just go watch the end of the race.”

  As we made our way through the crowd, I thought about Tori’s sudden, embarrassed reaction. After having worked on a lobster boat all summer, I understood that it was not a glamorous job. At the end of the day, you were tired and cold and yes, you smelled like fish. Quinn and I did it for extra summer cash. But Tori was a pro. That one brief moment had given me a little peek into her odd personality. She didn’t seem like a happy person, especially with the comment about hating everything. She may have been confident, but she was also self-conscious. It made her seem less odd, and a bit more human.