Shade of the Moon ls-4

by Susan Beth Pfeffer

  “You were being honest,” Jon said.

  “At the cost of my mother’s life,” Sarah said. “They told my parents I was too young and Mother would have to stay on dialysis until another donor could be found. Five weeks later Abby died. My parents were devastated. I thought I could make things better by agreeing to the surgery, but by then they’d stopped transplants. Nobody was manufacturing the drugs you need to keep your body from rejecting the organs, so everyone who ever had a transplant died. There were a lot of deaths you didn’t hear about, like the diabetics who couldn’t get insulin and the people with cancer whose chemo was stopped.”

  “But your mother only died a few months ago,” Jon said.

  “My uncle pulled strings and got us selected for an enclave where she could get dialysis,” Sarah replied. “Things were okay until they decided to close all the dialysis units. The people on dialysis weren’t doing enough to justify the resources. It took Mother thirteen days to die. Daddy didn’t leave her side the entire time, when he should have been working. The enclave board didn’t like that, so they held a hearing and decided to expel him. My uncle got Daddy the job here.”

  “Even if you’d agreed to the transplant, your mother would have died,” Jon said. “She might have died sooner.”

  “I know,” she replied. “The way you know things in your head but not in your heart. I kept thinking Mother would have been the only person who never needed drugs. Or they might have kept making the drugs, or we would have found a supply big enough to last until they started making them again. And Abby was so angry with me for not agreeing. We hardly spoke the month before she died. I hold that in my heart, also.”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” Jon persisted.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Sarah declared. “In my heart I’m always going to feel guilty. Just the way you do about Julie. I don’t think there’s anyone else in this world who could understand how I feel.”

  He could never tell her the truth. He could never say it was Miranda who killed Julie, who kept her from the kind of miracle Sarah dreamed of for her mother. She’d take it as a rejection, as his way of saying he was better than she was. She needed him to be guilty. It didn’t matter if it was a lie.

  “I love you,” he said, because that was a truth she could accept.

  “Hold me, Jon,” she whispered. “I can’t bear to be alone anymore.”

  Wednesday, July 1

  “Daddy’s arranged for Alex to drive him to White Birch today,” Sarah told Jon as they walked to the bus. “They’re going to stop at the hospital first so Daddy can check up on Miranda. He’ll try to get Alex in to see her.”

  “That’s nice of him,” Jon said.

  “Daddy likes your family,” Sarah replied. “So do I.”

  “Are you coming to the match on Saturday?” Jon asked. “See me slaughter those White Birch grubs?”

  “You make it sound so appealing,” she replied. “But I’ll be at the clinic all day.”

  “The clinic’s closed on Saturdays,” Jon said. “Besides, it’s July Fourth.”

  “That’s why we’re staying open,” Sarah said. “Laborers will have the day off. It’ll give them a chance to come in. We’re staying open until the last one leaves, and then we’ll get a driver to take us home. What’ll you be doing after the match?”

  “Staying in White Birch to celebrate,” Jon said. “We’ll get home somehow.”

  “Will you burn any more schools down?” she asked.

  Jon stood still. “You know about that?” he asked.

  “It’s true?” Sarah asked. “I thought maybe Tyler made it up.”

  “Tyler told you?” Jon asked. He grabbed Sarah by the shoulders. “When? What did he say?”

  “Let me go,” Sarah said.

  Jon released her. “I’m sorry,” he said. “But I need to know what happened.”

  “It was after lunch yesterday,” Sarah said. “Tyler saw you eating with Luke and me. Then you left for practice. Tyler came up to me when I was waiting for the driver to take me to White Birch. Tyler said he had a problem, a moral issue, and he wanted to talk to me about it. I said that seemed weird since he hates me, and he said that was why he was asking me. He couldn’t count on his friends to give him an honest answer.”

  “What was the problem?” Jon asked.

  “He said he was with some of his friends that night, and they saw you with a bunch of other guys running into the high school,” Sarah replied. “The next thing they saw, the school was on fire and you were all running away. He’s been trying ever since to decide whether he should tell the authorities. His friends said no, but it’s been bothering him.”

  “And you believed him?” Jon demanded.

  “I didn’t know what to believe,” Sarah said. “I thought about asking Luke, but I couldn’t trust him to keep his mouth shut. Tyler said the guys you were with looked like grubs. But you don’t know any grubs, do you, Jon? Except for your family, I mean.”

  “They weren’t grubs,” Jon said. If he told Sarah the truth, she’d confront Tyler or go to the authorities. Either way, his family would be the ones to suffer. “They were clavers, guys from college probably. We were drunk. We didn’t swap names and addresses.”

  “Was it their idea?” Sarah asked.

  Jon wanted to say yes, he hadn’t known what they were going to do until it was too late. But there were only so many lies he felt like telling. “One of them had matches,” he said instead. “We thought it was a great idea. I thought it was a great idea.”

  “Why, Jon?” Sarah cried.

  “I was angry at Mom,” he said. “For caring more about her students than she does about me. But Sarah, if Tyler goes to the authorities, they’ll blame her.”

  “You’re the one they’ll blame,” Sarah said.

  “Yeah, but I deserve it,” Jon said. “Mom didn’t do anything wrong, but they’ll throw her out of White Birch. They’ll punish Alex and Miranda, too. They’ll say I lied about being with clavers, that it was my family’s idea.”

  “You saw them a few days before,” Sarah said.

  Jon nodded.

  Sarah took a deep breath. “I’ll tell Tyler you said you were too drunk to remember what happened. Jon, if you turn yourself in, will they do anything to your family?”

  “I don’t know,” Jon said. “I don’t want to risk it. But if you want, I’ll leave Sexton. I’ll go to my brother’s after Miranda’s baby is born. But I won’t come back. I won’t be a claver.”

  “I don’t want to lose you,” Sarah said. “But I don’t know that I’ve ever had you. How can I love you when I don’t think I like you?”

  “You were lonely,” he said. “You’re making friends now. You’ll find someone else. I’ll be gone. You’ll be okay.”

  “I don’t want to be okay without you,” she said. “Jon, hold me.”

  Jon didn’t move. “Go,” he said. “Catch the bus. I’ll walk to school.”

  “You’ll be late,” she said.

  “Don’t worry about me,” he said. “Take care of yourself.”

  Sarah paused for a moment, but then she began running from him.

  He’d had her and he lost her. He could blame whoever he wanted, whatever he wanted—Tyler, his family, the moon itself—but none of that mattered.

  He was alone. He would always be alone.

  That was all he deserved.

  Friday, July 3

  Practices had been brutal all week. Coach drove them beyond their capabilities, calling them every name in the book when they came short of his expectations.

  Each practice ended with chants, louder and more crazed, about what the Sexton players were going to do to the White Birch grubs. Nothing was too violent or obscene.

  It was hard each day to go home and return to being Nice Jon, Friendly Jon, Big Brother Jon. He tried his best, but mostly he thought about everything he’d done, everything he’d lost.

  Mom called that night. He couldn’t remember the last time he�
��d heard her sound so happy, so relieved.

  “Alex gave me the complete report yesterday,” she said. “He says he’s never seen Miranda look so good. Miranda can’t get over how well they’re feeding her. Chicken and fish every single day. She walks around the ward for exercise, but mostly she lies in bed and gets pampered. The baby is thriving and everything’s going wonderfully. She’s really looking forward to working for Lisa. She says she hadn’t realized how much the greenhouse work was taking out of her until she fainted.”

  Jon listened patiently, making the appropriate noises when Mom would expect to hear them.

  “Jeffrey doesn’t think he can get Alex in to see Miranda next week, but he’ll try for the week after,” Mom continued. “And he’ll check in on Miranda after she’s had the baby, and he’ll get Alex in then, also. I wish Alex could see her daily, but it’s better than nothing. Jeffrey’s really being wonderful about it.”

  “The soccer match is tomorrow,” Jon said. “Are you coming, Mom?”

  “Oh, honey, I wish I could,” Mom replied. “I was given a ticket. But one of the boys in my class is on the team. I gave him my ticket so his father can see him play. Lisa will be there? And Gabe?”

  “Yeah,” Jon said, knowing in Mom’s eyes they were all the family he needed.

  “I’ll see you the next time,” Mom said. “After Miranda has the baby. We’ll all come, cheer you on.”

  “Okay,” he said. “Take care, Mom.”

  Jon heard her say, “I love you,” as he hung up the phone.

  When he was a kid, his father used to go to his ball games. Jon loved to play, knowing his father was watching, cheering him on.

  But after the divorce Dad lived too far away to get to the games. Jon used the anger he felt, and the disappointment, to make him play harder.

  That’s how he’d play on Saturday, he told himself. Harder than he’d ever played before.

  Chapter 9

  Saturday, July 4

  Until the White Birch forward died, it was the best day in Jon’s life.

  After he died, it was the worst.

  It had started better than Jon had imagined. Instead of a four- or five-hour drive on winding, rutted roads, it was a familiar twenty minutes. The bus was full. All the team members made the trip, plus Coach, the referee they always brought, and a couple dozen guards, who were there to circle the playing field for their protection.

  Everyone was in a great mood, with a lot of yelling about what they were going to do to the White Birch grubs. The wilder and more disgusting the shouts, the more everyone cheered.

  Finally Coach raised his hands to quiet the team. “If you lose, you can take a bus back after the game. Someone’ll find room for you losers.”

  The catcalls were deafening.

  “But if by some chance you manage a win, there’ll be a bus for you at four a.m.,” Coach said. “To the victors belong the spoils.”

  “What does that mean?” Zachary asked.

  “It means do whatever you want to whoever you want,” Tyler said. “No questions asked. Right, Coach?”

  “I’m not asking,” Coach said. “Just don’t get killed.”

  Luke glanced at Jon, but Jon ignored him. Luke could do whatever he wanted. Jon was going to do whatever Tyler wanted.

  The team got to the stadium a couple of hours before match time. They changed in the locker room, then looked around.

  The high school stadium grandstands sat two thousand, and Jon knew it would be full. The lower half was reserved for clavers. Then there’d be a row of guards, and above them were the seats for the people from White Birch. Twenty buses would shuttle back and forth from Sexton, carrying the clavers and the guards. The grubs could walk.

  Jon could see that playing so close to the burned-down high school bothered Luke. He told himself not to think about it. The high school was a remnant of a different time. The students still went to school, just in a different building. Back in Pennsylvania after the bad times had begun, they’d closed schools and no one cared.

  Even in the locker room, Jon could hear the clavers getting off the buses and being seated. Close to a thousand of them coming to watch their team slaughter the grubs. An equal number of grubs witnessing the slaughter.

  Eventually one of the guards knocked on their door and told them to come out for the “Star-Spangled Banner.” Jon looked around as he walked onto the field. He was used to playing games almost every week, but they usually played on an empty field somewhere, and at most a hundred of the town’s grubs showed up to watch.

  This was completely different. Even with the scores of guards, it was still overwhelming to see hundreds of grubs waiting for the clavers to lose.

  But then they started singing the national anthem, and everything felt right. Sure, the clavers were clavers and the grubs were grubs, but it was the Fourth of July and they were all Americans.

  It was a hot seventy-five degrees, and if you squinted, you could see the sun. There was soccer to be played, a game to be won.

  What Jon hadn’t expected, what none of them had expected, was that the White Birch players would be good. None of the grubber teams they’d played had known what they were doing. The grubs only scored because the clavers let them. Jon and his teammates could easily win 20–0.

  But the White Birch grubs played hard, never quitting, never gasping for air. The grubs had defenders. The clavers had never needed defenders, and all the players regarded themselves as forwards. Now they had to block passes shot by players who understood the game, and watch helplessly as their own passes were blocked. Jon had several of his passes taken from him, and he was outrun more than once.

  To make matters worse, the grubs had a goalie who knew how to field. Jon was accustomed to scoring easily, the grubber goalies terrified at the speed and power of his kick. But this goalie blocked the kicks and saw to it that his teammates got the ball back.

  The grubs in the stands were going wild, screaming and pounding against the bleacher floors. The clavers tried to show their enthusiasm, but they’d expected a rout, and Jon could sense they were starting to worry.

  Coach was screaming on the sidelines, and the referee gave as many calls as he could to the clavers. Even so, at halftime, the score was 1–1.

  The thing was, Jon loved it. Winning every week against a bunch of losers wasn’t fun. It was a job, whether Sarah understood that or not.

  But this was great. Win or lose, this was what sports were about. Soccer would never replace baseball in Jon’s heart, but this time he understood what was fun about soccer, why even in a world of fear, hunger, and loss, this game alone had survived.

  He didn’t even mind listening to Coach in the locker room. He especially enjoyed hearing Coach scream at Tyler.

  None of the other guys were enjoying themselves. Maybe he could because he was a slip. Sure he wanted to win. He’d come in determined to show the White Birch grubs what pathetic losers they were. He understood that there was danger if the grubs stopped fearing them. The clavers had to win, especially this game so close to home.

  But this time they’d have to earn that win. The clavers had every advantage, but they were being outplayed by a bunch of loser grubs. Only they weren’t losers. There was nothing loser about them.

  With two minutes left, Jon was starting to wish the grubs would remember what losers they were. The score was tied 3–3, and both teams were exhausted. Even Coach had wearied of screaming. The fans in the seats were quieter, waiting for the decisive goal to be scored.

  Luke kicked the ball to Jon. He could see a clear path to the goal. The White Birch goalie, who’d played a heroic match, was weakening. This was the chance Jon had been waiting for.

  But before he had a chance to strike the ball, one of the grubber forwards collapsed on the field. For a moment they all stood still. Then the grubs ran over to check on their forward. No one thought to call a timeout.

  “Kick the ball!” Coach yelled. “Score!”

  Jon stoo
d still. Tyler ran over and kicked the ball in for the score.

  “He’s dead!” one of the grubs shouted.

  The White Birch coach ran onto the Sexton side of the field and began pummeling Coach. The next thing Jon knew, he was being attacked by two of the White Birch players.

  Soon all the players were fighting. Jon felt sorry for the guy who’d died, but it was exhilarating to be swinging, hitting, pounding his fists against flesh and bone.

  The guards started swarming the field. Shots rang out. Jon thought the guards were shooting in the air, to calm the crowd, until he saw one of the grub players fall to the ground. Then the barrier between the field and the grandstands collapsed, and clavers and grubs stampeded the playing field.

  The screams grew louder and the gunshots more frequent. Jon tried to locate Lisa and Gabe, only to feel a hard punch to his stomach. He collapsed onto the field, the air knocked out of him, then heard a bullet and saw the grub who’d attacked him falling down. Jon managed to squirm away just in time to keep the grub from dying on top of him.

  Guns were going off everywhere. Clavers who’d brought their guns with them for protection were shooting wildly. Jon ran, searching for Lisa and Gabe. It was Gabe he saw first. A man had hold of him and was lifting him up.

  Jon couldn’t be certain if it was a grub who planned on harming Gabe or a claver trying to protect him. At that moment it didn’t matter. He climbed over the fallen barricade, pushing against crazed and frantic people, and reached the man.

  He hadn’t played soccer for nothing. Jon placed a hard kick on the man’s shin, and while the man was hopping from pain and surprise, he kneed him in the groin.

  The man dropped Gabe. Jon grabbed the boy, placing him on his shoulders. Gabe was screaming for his mother, and Jon managed to spot her.

  “Follow me!” he yelled to Lisa. He held on to Gabe’s legs as tightly as he could and shoved his way through the hysterical crowd. At first he stepped around bodies, in case they were still alive, but after a couple of minutes he gave up caring. Gabe was the important thing, not some dead grub. Or some dead claver.