“All right, all right.” Jane got between them. “He’s just getting under your skin, Soup.”
“That’s not my name!” Soup pointed. “Say it! Make him say it!”
Kraig threw up his arms in surrender. It was only after John muttered in his ear did he say it. “Sorry.”
“That’s not my name, say it.” Spittle bubbled in the corners of his mouth.
“But—”
John stopped him.
After another quiet conversation, Kraig said, “Okay. That’s not your name.”
Soup walked off. Jane went with him, but he shrugged her off. Kraig was muttering back to John. Ryder heard him say, “That’s his name.”
“Just go with it,” John said.
When Soup came back, his cheeks were pink, but he’d calmed down. He stared bullets through Kraig. There was a long pause before Kraig offered a hand. John and Jane brokered peace with a brief handshake. Soup wiped his hand on his pants afterwards.
“We’re flipping a coin,” John said, “to see who gets the ball—”
A chopping sound echoed in the distance and quickly got louder. Everyone turned toward the mountain. Something soared toward them.
“You all right?” Ryder asked.
Soup ignored him. They watched a black helicopter approach. It landed far from the horseshoe. Snow scattered beneath it as the reflective door opened. A big man climbed out and cupped his hands.
“Not without me, you’re not!”
It was followed by cheers and an avalanche of nicies. They raced toward the heroic figure with an enormous black dog at his side. He greeted them with hugs. The naughties were out there too, they just didn’t beat the nicies to fresh hugs and hearty handshakes.
“I thought he was on the North Pole?” Ryder said.
“That’s what he wants you to think.” Soup pointed at the mountain. “Most of the time he’s over there.”
“Where?”
“Other side of the mountain.”
“Why?”
Soup shrugged. “Why does he do anything?”
Billy Big Game allowed the drones to capture his confidence from every angle. His eyes were firmly aimed at Ryder, a visual harpoon that stuck him in place, and he marched toward them. His cologne arrived first. Ryder held out his hand.
“I don’t know what they told you about family...” He grabbed Ryder’s coat and crushed him.
So he is real.
Billy Big Game wasn’t an animated hologram. He was an overperfumed lumberjack who laughed while he squeezed him until he couldn’t breathe.
“Let me get a look.” Billy Big Game was a little misty. “I’ve been watching you, son. Welcome home.”
He hugged him again. Judging by the awkward silence, this didn’t usually happen. Ryder wished he’d watched the stream to know if this was normal. The dog sat obediently at his feet, eyes never leaving BG. The teams gathered around. There was no escape.
“Back up.” The dog went to the exact spot where he was pointing.
“I’ve waited a long time for this day,” he muttered.
“What day?” Ryder said.
He shook his head. It was like he was talking to someone else, his eyes slightly unfocused. Ryder tried to pull away, but he held him firmly. The drones captured what Ryder assumed would be all over the morning’s stream.
He was so wrong.
“Hold out your hand.” When Ryder didn’t do it, BG grabbed his hand. “It’s him, Figgy. Come say hello.”
The dog got up and smelled Ryder’s hand then licked it. BG looked like he was about to weep. He scrubbed the dog’s ears and began laughing then stood up and did it again, only this time it sounded like Christmas.
“Ho! Ho! Ho!”
And then everyone cheered right on cue. The awkwardness dissolved into a less awkward moment of rehearsed laughter and sitcom comradery.
“I have a feeling about this year.” BG took the coin from one of the producers. “This might be the year of the naughties.”
Boos cascaded from the nicies.
Was he doing this for the stream? Ryder hadn’t done anything to deserve this. In fact, everywhere he’d gone had ended in disaster. Why was BG acting like he was a saint?
“Call it!” The coin tumbled high into the air, the dull sunlight glinting off the edges. Bryant elbowed Ryder.
“Heads,” Ryder called just before it landed in the snow with a dull thump.
BG leaned over. “Heads!”
The naughties cheered, sort of. The nicies booed. It was like the intergalactic World Series of coin flipping had been decided. Everyone returned to their sidelines. What just happened?
Ryder was happy it was over. He was already guaranteed a starring role in the next morning’s stream. Now to engage his disappearing powers. Cherry was leaning against the building. He found a spot near her.
BG was on the opposite sideline, log-sized arms crossed over his chest. The dog was at his side. Ryder felt like they were looking at him.
“Good girls and boys,” Cherry said, “do what I tell them.”
She was looking at BG and his dog.
“Ryder!”
Bryant waved from the middle of the field. Ryder waved back.
“I think he wants you,” Cherry said.
Ryder didn’t budge. The game was about to start. He was just being friendly. The naughties came for him. They pried him off the wall.
“Stop,” he said quietly, hoping Bradley Cooper wasn’t recording.
They didn’t stop. Unless he went limp like a five-year-old, he had no choice but to go. He trotted out to cheers from the naughties, all because they didn’t want to be out there. Ryder joined the huddle.
“Here we go.” Bryant told everyone what to do. He diagramed a play in the snow that made no sense. “Ready, break!”
Ryder followed everyone to the football. Bryant pulled him back and whispered, telling him where to stand. “Just run,” he said. “Straight.”
I can do that. I can run.
Jane followed him to the sidelines. Her hair was tied back. She looked serious and, honestly, a little intimidating. It was the mouthpiece that scared him a little. Crouched, hands up, she didn’t take her eyes off him as Bryant shouted nonsense. The ball was hiked.
Ryder hit the ground.
Jane stood over him, teeth clenched and nostrils flaring. He didn’t even see it happen. He was supposed to run and she’d driven him into the snow. The little plane was still soaring in the gray sky above her, a black speck far above.
I thought there wasn’t supposed to be planes, he thought.
“That’s it, Janie!” Kraig barked.
The football was moved back. Bryant called another play; this one he said was a screen. It didn’t change what Ryder was doing.
“Run,” Bryant said. “That way.”
They went backwards again. When the play was over, Arf was standing over one of the nicies. No one could get past him, but it didn’t matter. There were too many of them. Jane didn’t knock Ryder down, but he couldn’t get around her. She had chopped her feet and hand-checked him until the whistle blew. She was surprisingly strong. And the way she was frowning made him uneasy.
One more play.
Just get this one over with and he could double-down on his invisibility powers. Bryant drew a play. They had to go thirty yards for a first down. Ryder didn’t know what that meant, but thirty yards was a long ways. And they had been going in the wrong direction, so this was almost over.
Jane was standing far away this time. She was watching Bryant when the ball was hiked. Ryder did what he was told. He started running. Jane turned to run with him.
She couldn’t keep up.
Ryder flew past her and the guy behind her. There was a sudden cheer, and he turned around in time to see a big brown object spinning toward him.
It thumped into his stomach.
Ryder cradled the football. He didn’t so much catch it as it stuck in his arms. He didn’t slow down.
His feet kept moving. The wind was in his ears as the cheers pushed him forward. He went past the orange cones and kept going. The nicies had stopped.
The naughties were chasing him now.
It wasn’t just the team on the field but everyone on the sidelines, too. They buried him in a dogpile of bodies, smacking his back, grabbing his hair, and screaming his name. He didn’t know how this worked, but it couldn’t be the end of the game. Arf picked him up and spun him like a figure skater.
Soup was pretend-crying.
Ryder’s face hurt. He’d never worn a smile that big. It sketched his cheeks and dried his gums. His chest inflated like a helium balloon. If Arf let go, he’d float through the sky.
Ryder rode Arf’s shoulders back to the sidelines, where they were reminded the score was only 7-0. The celebration continued while the game continued.
Cherry was still against the wall. She was looking at him. Not a glance, but actually looking at him.
The nicies scored and no one seemed to care. Ryder was still floating somewhere in the gray sky. He actually wanted to go back out there. All those years he’d made fun of high school pep rallies and it took one touchdown for him to get it.
“You’re up.” Soup slapped Ryder on the butt. “Win it for the naughties, bo.”
He jogged out to cheers and boos. BG was clapping loudly, his hands coming together in huge wallops. Mindy was leaping next to him, her mittened hands barely making a sound. Ryder tried to kill his smile.
“Here we go,” Bryant said.
Ryder was going to block Jane or at least try. Arf would come out and pretend to block. Bryant would throw a short pass to Franken, a tall naughty with long hair. It didn’t matter if he caught it, because that wasn’t the play they were going to score on.
Jane was guarding him. She was more serious, if that was possible—squatting, scowling and bouncing on the balls of her feet.
“We naught, we naughty. We naught, we naughty.” Soup was leading a cheer. “You nice, you nicy.”
When the ball was hiked, he did like he was told. Jane shoved him down. Snow went up his shirt. When the play was over, Arf helped him back to the huddle, brushing his back.
The second play was a lot like the first—a short pass and nothing. Arf picked up Ryder again and wiped the snow out of his hair. His head was ringing this time. Jane barked like a dog.
Sweet Jane was gone.
“Here we go,” Bryant said.
He changed the play. It was genius. The first two plays were setting up the third one. Jane’s face was red as coals and not from the cold. Rage melted the snow off her cheeks; it came out in long steamy breaths. She stomped the snow down to bare ground.
“We are naughty; you are nice. We get totaled; you get lice. We eat cake; you get rice. We ride cheetahs; you get mice—”
The ball was snapped.
Ryder pretended to block. Jane pursued the short pass. Arf came around full gait when Franken caught the ball. He took two steps. Just before his flags were stripped, he tossed the football. Jane recognized the play, but it was too late.
She was bounced off the ground.
Arf didn’t do it on purpose. His momentum was a fully loaded freight train and she stepped on the tracks. The football sailed over her, but she was seeing stars.
Ryder caught it in stride.
The last thing he saw were the bottoms of Kraig’s shoes. He’d tried to cross the tracks like Jane, and Arf the Unstoppable was right on time. Ryder wrapped the football with both hands.
And the naughties came screaming.
Soup led the way and the others trailed behind him. The entire naughty wing was going to form another dogpile. Even Cherry was walking toward them. But Arf wasn’t.
He was still on the field.
The nicies had formed a circle around him. They were trying to hold Kraig back. The drones were divebombing, hungry for drama. Arf was all alone while the nicies took turns shoving him.
“Hey!” Ryder shouted.
He ducked around the oncoming naughty avalanche and sprinted up the field. They turned to follow him and saw what was happening. Ryder’s face was cold, his chest burning. He pumped his arms and closed the gap just as Kraig tossed John off him. Arf held his hands out, shaking his head. His cheeks were bright red.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he was saying.
Snow still dusted Kraig’s uniform. He shoved through two more of his teammates and balled up a fist.
“No!” Ryder jumped on his back. “Leave him—”
Kraig turned his hips and threw an elbow before Ryder could latch his arms around his neck. It caught him in the temple and lit up the sad sky.
A high-pitched whine filled his head.
Lightning flashed behind his eyes. White pain flooded his forehead. Voices went underwater and distant. The ground was below him, but the world shimmered. Dark forms blotted out the dull light.
And then they heard it.
Ryder was looking up from the bottom of a huddle when they all heard it.
Something cried from deep in the trees. It was long and lonesome, starting out low and guttural and peaking with a howl that shook snow from limbs. The hairs on his arms rose. It was an animal, but it wasn’t in pain or frightened. Ryder had heard it before.
It’s a warning.
Everyone looked at the mountains. The howl went on. And when it stopped, silence grabbed them. BG glanced at the nicies, squinting. He nodded.
John and Jane took off.
The other nicies followed. The drones swarmed in formation, a spearhead soaring for the trees. A few minutes later, the roar of four-wheelers shattered the silence. The nicies roared out of the barn, two on each machine, leaning into the cold wind, some with flags still attached to their waists. BG watched them lay tracks into the forest, snowy rooster tails in their wake.
“What was that?” someone asked.
“Come on,” BG said. “Get him inside.”
“I’m good.” Ryder sat up. The planet was still spinning too fast.
BG put his hand on his shoulder. “Boys, give him a hand.”
Arf lifted him up. Ryder stopped him from holding him like a toddler and grabbed his shoulder. His cheek was numb. Pain radiated through his face to the other side of his head. A few molars felt loose.
One at a time, the naughties patted his back and shoulder. Two of the girls hugged him. He was one of them now. It was a touching moment, guaranteed to be mopped up and edited for public consumption. But there were no green eyes in the sky.
We’re off stream.
“Everybody inside,” BG said. “Free time until dinner.”
“Is the game over?” Soup asked. “Did we win?”
The producers kept their distance. BG separated himself from the group, staring at the mountains. The whir of all-terrain motors called from somewhere in the trees.
“We all did.”
“What?” Soup said.
But BG wasn’t talking to him. He was sort of talking to himself.
Arf kept an arm around Ryder, and the naughties went back to their wing. The secret that Ryder felt was coming to the surface. It had something to do with whatever was out there. It wasn’t the pain that bothered Ryder the most or the strange sound. It was the smile crawling across BG’s face.
5
Exhaust fumes hung in the trees.
Low branches were knocked clean. Knobby tracks ran through the snow, taillights glowing in the dense canopies. Ahead, all-terrains were parked side by side, engines off.
Billy Big Game stopped in a puddle of sunlight.
Figgy sat next to him, her tongue hanging loosely. Above him, a small gap of gray light punched through the trees. It was wide enough for a turkey vulture to fly through. He searched for tracks. There were no scuff marks on the trunks, no broken branches from a bony rack of antlers.
It’s him, my boy.
Sometimes his thoughts were so vivid, his compulsions so strong and undeniable that Billy Big Game heard
his thoughts like a whisper. He trusted his thoughts. They were his guide to all his success. No one would doubt that—a half-million-acre ranch, the highest rated stream on the internet, and one of the largest privately funded children homes in the country.
If this was insanity, he was all for it.
It might have been a mistake to let the nicies be so aggressive. His thoughts wanted him to be assertive but patient. He was overwhelmed with excitement and didn’t hear what he was thinking. If there were tracks, they might have been trampled by the all-terrains. Still, he had to act quickly before they were gone.
He’s still here.
The children were gathered in a straight line. Some were sitting on their vehicles; others standing. All with their backs to him, not hearing him approach. Tracking was a tedious pursuit best done on foot.
He slipped through a narrow gap, putting a hand on their shoulders as he passed. They bowed their heads. John and Jane were at the edge of a clearing. Green-eyes circled overhead. He pulled his favorite ones closer.
“Is everyone here?” He spoke in a low, calm tone.
They nodded. He pursed his lips and surveyed the clearing.
They did good, he heard. This is where it landed.
“Send the drones out,” Billy Big Game said. “Scan a square mile from the epicenter. No broadcast. I don’t want to see this on the stream. I want half of the drones on continuous patrol, rotate to charge. Keep one posted in this clearing at all times.”
Even though he was talking to John and Jane, the green-eyes were listening. They scattered when he was done. Blending into the forest, one of them hovered over the center of the clearing. It would record and analyze all activity. If everything went well, the footage would be streamed at a later time.
When I’m ready.
The clearing was buried in a foot of snow. Much of it, though, had been trampled. Several holes were punched into the ground, frozen clods of soil scattered as a result of a heavy impact. Distinct prints were all around.
“My God,” he whispered.
A chill hummed in his stomach and raised gooseflesh. Tracks such as these were typically several inches across. These were twice that.
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