Chapter 33

The next home football game, Nick was determined not to blow it. He needed to keep his emotions in check and concentrate on the game and not let his thoughts stray. He kept his back to the others as he took a swallow of whiskey from a small flask he thrust into his pack. He felt their eyes on him but didn’t care. The whiskey burned down his throat. The warmth settled in his gut, fortified him.

The Laketon Lancers lined up against the formidable Crystal Shores Prep School. The glare of the stadium lights flooded the field. Nick’s eyes swept over the Crystal Shores players; they were huge. They could have played the Michigan State Spartans and come out on top. Crystal Shores was one of the best in the state for their school size.

And with the blare of a horn, the game started. The Shores players ran around and over Laketon, and they lost yardage. They were everywhere yet out of reach. Two minutes into the game, Nick was sweating and frustrated. Shores was close to field goal range and…

He didn’t see the sideways tackle coming, and momentarily he couldn’t breathe. Nick hit the ground, and the Shores player landed heavily on top of him. He lay stunned for a second, trying to get air into his lungs. Grateful when the player stood, Nick lay on his back and looked up at the lights. They danced before his eyes. Gary gave him a hand up.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

Laketon lined up and watched as the ball sailed through the goalposts for a three-point lead.

Play resumed. The Germans were swarming over the Loire. Nick shook his head, but still the tanks rolled forward. He had to do something. There was a German soldier next to me, and I rushed toward him, headfirst, to knock him flat. I let out a grunt as we tumbled to a heap on the field.

“What the!” the German yelled.

“Nick!” Coach yelled. “What’s going on?”

He shook his head. Nick? That other name. He was Nick, not Jean Claude, and the German soldier was Bryan. How could he have mistaken Bryan for the enemy? A tiny voice laughed in his head.

“What the hell are you doing?” Bryan yelled. “Are you crazy?”

Nick shook his head. “I don’t know…I don’t feel so good.” For a moment he had thought he was someplace else.

Coach Sullivan rushed toward them, waving his arms, and the ref blew the whistle. “You injured?”

“I don’t think so,” Nick said, moving his head from side to side. The Nazis had seemed so real, he could even smell the metallic artillery and the roar of the Panzer tanks.

“Let’s have the trainer check you out.” He helped Nick to his feet and led him to the sidelines. “You may have a concussion.”

The visions were so real. The Germans swarmed over the Loire, coming, coming. He was Jean Claude, the student soldier, and Bryan, the Nazi. His past was overrunning his current life. Oh God, the two were in a struggle for dominance. How could he keep this from happening again?

Coach led Nick to the bench so the trainer could look him over.

“Did you hurt your hand?” the trainer asked.

“Yeah, it hurts.” Nick flexed his hands. His hand swelled and throbbed—turning red. “Damn that hurt.”

“It might have gotten stepped on.” The indentions did look like cleats or even a bite mark. Who would have bitten him?

Nick’s parents ran down from the bleachers. “Nick! Nick! You hurt?”

“I don’t know what happened,” he cried. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

The trainer pushed a bucket toward him, and Nick vomited. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and took the water bottle the trainer gave him. He took a long swallow, but still the acid residue remained. He took another drink.

“Come on,” his father said, holding out his hand. “We’re taking you to the hospital to have you checked out. You may have suffered another concussion from that tackle.”

The trainer stood. “I think that’s a good idea. Have that hand looked at too.”

Nick’s parents—one on each side of him—led him off the field, where they met Emily.

“Oh my gosh! What’s wrong?” Emily panicked.

“Don’t know,” Nick said. “I feel dizzy.” He looked toward the field exit and a hazy figure of a girl by the concession stand.

“Do you need me to come?” Emily asked, rubbing her hands together.

“No, you stay.”

“Text me!”

Emily took his uninjured hand and squeezed. He gave her a hug before she ran back to the bleachers.

The hazy figure of Cat called softly to him, “Nick! What’s wrong?”

“Cat!” his parents said. “We’re taking him to the ER to have him checked out.”

She nodded and stepped closer, looking into his eyes. “Your pupils are dilated.”

He shook his head. “You’re kind of blurry.”

“Let me know,” Cat said, stepping back into the shadows.

Nick nodded.

“Come on.” His father took his arm and helped him exit the field, before driving to the hospital.

In the emergency room, Nick had an MRI of his head, he was given fluids, and his hand was X-rayed.

“Looks like you just bruised your hand.” The doctor held up his X-ray. “What happened?”

“I think someone stepped on it.”

The doctor chuckled. “Football is brutal. Take it easy for a while.”

“Does he need bed rest?” Nick’s mother asked.

“No, nothing that serious! Just your normal, nonviolent activities.”

Nick was good to go out with Emily then. He looked sideways at his mother, her mouth set in a firm line. She wouldn’t want him to leave the house if she had her way.

They left the ER with his hand wrapped, orders to sit on the bench for a week or so, and follow up with the family doctor.

****

“Are you sure you’re up to going out tonight?” his mother asked as Nick got ready for the movies with Emily. Her eyes scanned his, searching. What was she looking for? Confusion, madness, what?

“I feel fine.” But a small persistent headache throbbed behind his eyes. He didn’t want to be babied.

His mother held up her hands. “Okay, fine, call if you need us.”

“I will,” he mumbled.

Emily rang their bell, and after greeting his parents, they drove to the movie theater.

“How are you feeling tonight?” she asked, pulling at the hem of her T-shirt, tugging it down over her hips.

He had the urge to stop her. He liked seeing a slice of her midriff, winking at him.

“I’m fine. The ER doctor said he couldn’t find anything wrong.”

“That’s good,” Emily said.

“So we’re going to the new Bond flick?” Nick asked.

“Starts at 7:30. Meeting Gary and Tiffany.”

Emily pulled her car into the parking lot for the only movie theater/bowling alley in Laketon, named Laketon Lanes and Movies, not very original, but it beat having to drive to Grand Rapids to watch something, or wait until it came out on Netflix.

Em parked next to a familiar truck, Bryan’s, just their luck.

“I wonder who Bryan’s with tonight?” Emily asked.

Nick didn’t much care. He hoped there wouldn’t be any more problems with Bryan tonight. Bryan would be gunning for him after the snafu at the game. Heck—Bryan was always looking for some way to jab at him.

It was too bad he tackled Bryan and not Gary, who might have understood. “I thought you were a Nazi,” sounded lame, which it was. Gary would have laughed and shot his hand up in a mock “Heil Hitler” salute and not held a grudge.

Nick purchased the tickets, and Emily bought the popcorn and drinks.

They went into the darkened theater and found a seat by Gary and Tiff.

The previews finished, and the movie started, and Nick took Emily’s hand. It felt good to entangle their fingers. He gave her a quick smile.

The movie began in true Bond fashion: beautiful women after James and impossible danger. Nick felt something hit the back of his head.

He turned, but it was hard to see faces in the dark. Then something bounced off his forehead. Popcorn. Nick scowled and whispered, “Hey! Knock it off.” He didn’t know which direction it had come from, but soon Nick’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, and he spotted Bryan four rows back.

“Make me,” Bryan whispered-yelled back. He dipped his hand into the popcorn tub and threw three pieces at once. Bryan’s date snickered.

Suddenly, someone else stood up. “I’m getting the manager!”

Bryan stopped.

“Was that Bryan?” Emily whispered, looking back.

“The one and only.” Bryan, the bully, the German enemy—the lines between the two were blurred and fuzzy.

“Guys! Please!” Tiffany put a finger to her lips to shush them. Gary gave an apologetic smile.

Nick concentrated on the movie, but he was aware of the eyes boring into the back of his head, and the hair on his neck bristled.

He eventually forgot about Bryan.

When the movie ended, Gary asked, “Hey, you want to go for a burger?”

“I’m not really hungry, but I could get a drink.” Emily looked into their empty popcorn bucket; just a few forgotten pieces languished in the bottom.

“Sure.” There was only one place to get a burger at night, and that was at Del’s 50s Diner, formerly a Woolworths back in his parents’ day.

They left before Bryan and Rhonda, but they would all probably end up in the same place. Weekends were predictable in small-town Laketon. Anyone over twenty-one went to Grand Rapids for the nightlife, and the under-twenty-one crowd stayed local.

They stepped back into the 1950s, where Del’s waitresses wore poodle skirts and saddle shoes. As expected, the diner was packed after the movies and bowling. Nick and Emily squeezed into a booth with Gary and Tiffany. Tiff and Em began their excited gossip banter, when Bryan and his date came down the aisle, Bryan purposefully running into their table, knocking over the salt and pepper shakers and spilling the sugar.

Typical and childish.

“Sorry, bro!” he said, even though he didn’t look sorry. “Thought you were a Shores player.”

Nick eased out of the booth.

“Nick, please,” Emily begged. “Don’t fight!”

“I won’t.” When had he ever gotten into a fight when they were together?

“No, the Reverend would never get in a fight,” Bryan said, taunting.

Gary got up too and stood between them. “I don’t want you guys suspended from school before the homecoming game,” he said and pushed them farther apart.

“Who made you the school police?” Bryan asked.

“I did,” Gary said. “You guys are acting like babies.”

Bryan pushed Gary, but Gary pushed him back. “Don’t.”

“Outside,” Bryan said.

Other football players joined them, some behind Bryan and others behind Gary and Nick.

“Do I need to call the cops?” Del, the diner owner, asked, pushing his way through the crowd blocking the aisle.

“No,” Nick said. “We’ll settle this later.” His eye still had a bluish hue from his last encounter with Bryan.

“Hah!” Bryan said with a short laugh.

Nick sat back down and motioned for Gary to join Tiffany on the other side. Del stood and looked at Bryan. “Will I have trouble with you tonight?”

Sheepishly, Bryan rejoined his date in their booth, and Del went back to the kitchen.

The atmosphere around the table was stilted, with Emily talking about the decorations for the homecoming dance, the number of balloons they ordered, and the DJ from Grand Rapids. Emily and Tiffany were looking at something on Em’s phone, their heads close together. Gary and Nick looked at each other with raised brows.

Gary mouthed, “Are you worried?”

Nick grimaced and shook his head. “Nah!”

Gary quirked his brow as if to say, Bryan wouldn’t let things go between them.

Nick knew that.

The waitress came over to take their orders. Nick ordered sodas for Emily and himself. Gary ordered a hamburger, and Tiffany asked for a milkshake. Nick fiddled with his straw. He felt Bryan’s eyes boring into his head.

He jammed the straw into his drink and sucked it down. “You ready to go?” he asked Emily.

“You drank that fast,” she murmured. “Let me finish mine.” She did, and he left money on the table.

“I’ll take care of it.” Gary waved Nick’s money away and gave him a low whistle.

“Thanks, man.” They left, but Bryan stayed.

Emily looked disappointed. “Why didn’t we stay longer?” Emily asked.

“Headache,” Nick said.

Emily nodded like she understood.

Bryan was his headache.

“Do you want me to come in for a bit?” Emily asked when she parked in front of his house.

He rubbed at his temples. “No, better not.”

She frowned. “I thought you were fine?”

“I am, but I think I need to go to bed.”

He kissed both her cheeks and then gave her a chaste kiss on the lips.

She frowned at him.

Something wasn’t right. He didn’t usually kiss her cheeks, did he?

“I hope you’ll feel better by Monday,” she said in a hesitant voice.

“Me too.”

He hopped out of her car and went to the front door. Nick turned and Emily was still there, looking disappointed and worried.