Troy High

by Shana Norris

  A light, misty rain drizzled down as I took my place with the rest of the band. I didn’t look forward to the homecoming halftime show, mostly because I still couldn’t keep in step the entire time. My knees trembled as I waited for the show to begin.

  I stumbled a bit, but somehow I made it through the routine without causing any catastrophes. We moved around to spell out T-R-O-Y and then W-I-N on the field as we played the school song.

  Once the band had retreated to the sidelines, the small parade that the school held every year circled the track that surrounds the football field. The homecoming king and queen rode out in a red convertible, waving to the crowd as the lights glinted off their aluminum crowns. Then the cheerleaders followed, doing cartwheels and shaking their pom-poms.

  But the last parade float really caught my attention. Slowly moving along the track, pulled by a couple of golf carts, was a Trojan warrior and horse. The float had to be at least seven feet tall from the top of the Trojan’s head to the bottom of the horse’s feet. What looked like black flowers made up the Trojan’s body, while red flowers made up the horse. A banner draped across the Trojan’s chest read TROY HIGH.

  Our principal, Ms. Fillmore, rode on the float along with the Trojan and horse. And next to her stood a man I didn’t recognize, but he and Ms. Fillmore each had an arm slung around the other as they waved to the crowd. Ms. Fillmore wore a red-and-black Troy sweatshirt while the man next to her wore a blue-and-white Lacede jersey.

  The horse slowed to a stop in front of the bleachers where the Trojan supporters sat, and Ms. Fillmore gestured to someone on the sidelines. Someone handed her a megaphone so she could address the crowd.

  “Hello, Trojans!” Ms. Fillmore shouted. The crowd roared for a moment, until she held up her hand for quiet.

  “Thank you so much for coming to this year’s homecoming game and showing your support for our boys,” she said. “Hopefully you’ll all bring us good luck so we can win this game!”

  The crowd cheered again, stomping their feet and letting out whoops of “Troy! Troy! Troy!” in pounding unison. It took several moments before Ms. Fillmore could continue.

  “I would like to introduce my special guest for this evening,” she said, gesturing to the man at her side. “Mr. Richard Yancey, principal of Lacede High School.”

  Mr. Yancey waved and nodded good-naturedly as the crowd let out a mix of applause and boos.

  “Troy and Lacede have a long history together,” Ms. Fillmore said, “but we are still, in the end, friends and neighbors. Mr. Yancey has a few words he’d like to say on behalf of Lacede.”

  Mr. Yancey took the megaphone and smiled wide at the crowd. His face shone under the floodlights and he held up two fingers to make the peace sign at us, making him look like a hopelessly unhip politician. “Thank you, Ms. Fillmore. And thank you all for letting me be here. We’ve had an eventful season, but I hope that none of you hold hard feelings against us Spartans. As Ms. Fillmore said, we are neighbors and friends. I know some things have been said and done between our two schools, but I am here on behalf of Lacede to extend the offer of peace.”

  The boos continued.

  “A few weeks ago, I asked the Lacede High student council to work on a project that we could offer all of you,” Mr. Yancey continued. “I don’t expect it will make up for the damage done to your beloved Trojan statue, but I hope the gesture might begin the healing process between our schools. And so, Ms. Fillmore and Trojans,” he said, gesturing toward the Trojan and horse, “please accept this beautiful float with our apologies. We hope that by the time the flowers have faded, your statue will be as good as new and wounds will be mended.”

  About half the crowd managed a smattering of applause, but as I looked around I noticed most people rolled their eyes toward one another.

  “A stupid horse made of flowers doesn’t make up for Lacede’s pranks,” someone behind me growled.

  The gesture might have been nice in the eyes of Ms. Fillmore and Mr. Yancey, but it obviously didn’t make a difference among the students.

  “Thank you, Mr. Yancey,” Ms. Fillmore said, having taken the megaphone back. “The float will be moved into the gym so that we can all enjoy it during the dance tonight and remember our friends at Lacede. Now, let’s play some football!”

  “GO, TROJANS!” THE CHEERLEADERS DOVE INTO a series of flips and cartwheels along the sidelines as the Trojan defensive line charged down the field toward the Spartans.

  Perry managed to bring down Lucas, but not before Lucas passed the ball to Owen. A Trojan intercepted the throw and gained a few yards before being tackled to the grass.

  On the sidelines, Hunter paced back and forth. Since Patrick had been taken out of the game, Ackley had taken over stalking him. He was focused only on Hunter. His threats about taking down Hunter and getting revenge for his injury last year repeated themselves over and over in my head. I shuddered as I remembered the fire I had seen in Ackley’s eyes when he thought Hunter would be too injured from last week’s fall to play tonight.

  “Go, Perry!” a girl near me shouted. She and her friends cheered, pumping their fists in the air.

  On the field, after Lacede had called a time-out, Lucas slammed hard into Perry as they passed each other.

  Perry turned toward the ref, pointing an accusing finger at Lucas.

  “Sorry, accident,” Lucas said, loud enough for his voice to float toward the bleachers. He had taken his helmet off and plastered an innocent look on his face.

  The referee gestured for both Perry and Lucas to go to their respective sidelines. When the referee turned his back, Lucas sneered at my brother before heading away.

  I turned to the sidelines, where I saw Elena watching with fear.

  Hunter and the offensive line headed back onto the field. As did Ackley and the Spartan defense.

  The sun had set, and only the floodlights around the field illuminated the players. The grass glistened with water from the light rain that had fallen during halftime, and the guys seemed to glow as the light reflected off their helmets.

  Hunter’s lips moved as he shouted out plays to his teammates, but the roar of the crowd made it impossible for me to hear anything he said from where I was sitting in the bleachers. He snapped the ball, and the players went into motion. The guards blocked Ackley long enough for Hunter to make the pass, but then Ackley broke through, still intent on charging at my brother.

  Hunter didn’t back down. He met Ackley head-on, and the two tumbled to the grass, arms swinging and legs kicking. Neither of them seemed to realize that another Trojan had caught Hunter’s pass and moved the team sixteen yards closer to the end zone before being tackled. The referee ran toward them, his whistle screeching.

  “Personal foul, number fourteen, Lacede,” the referee shouted, giving Ackley a penalty.

  The play resumed and again, Ackley went after Hunter. He was more careful this time, doing whatever he could to keep from getting another penalty but still attack Hunter.

  The Spartans came alive now that Ackley was on the field. They stopped the Trojans from advancing and intercepted passes at every opportunity.

  On the next play, Ackley lunged at Hunter, causing him to throw a wild pass. Lacede intercepted and regained control of the ball. The Spartan offensive line returned to the field, working as if they all had one mind. The guards brought down any Trojans who tried to reach Lucas or anyone else in possession of the ball. Owen managed an impressive thirty-yard run, scoring a touchdown.

  At the end of the third quarter, the teams were tied 17–17.

  Hunter didn’t sit down to rest whenever he was off the field. He paced along the sidelines and kept his hands balled into fists at his sides. Some of the other guys tried to talk to him, but I knew he probably didn’t even hear them. Ackley was tormenting him, and I knew Hunter was focused on nothing else.

  The final minutes of the game ticked down. Lacede had managed to pull ahead, 24–17. The guys on both teams looked visibly tired,
but the Trojans huddled one last time, trying to rally themselves. The other guys slapped Hunter on the back and shouted encouragements, but Hunter seemed as if he barely noticed his teammates’ existence. He kept his head turned toward where Ackley stood across the field from him. And Ackley did the same, watching my brother’s every movement.

  “Come on,” I whispered, glancing at the game clock. “Let’s get this over with.”

  The sooner the game ended, the happier I would be. Maybe once Lacede and Troy had fought here on the football field, we could move on from this stupid rivalry for a little while.

  With six seconds left on the clock, the Trojans lined up to attempt the last few yards for a touchdown. The center snapped the ball and both teams lunged forward.

  Ackley, of course, charged at Hunter. One of the Trojan guards reached out to grab Ackley to stop him from hitting Hunter, but Ackley leaped over the guard’s hands and continued on.

  Ackley caught Hunter by surprise and he was unable to make the pass. Hunter had no time to hunch down and prepare for the impact.

  Ackley wrapped his arms around Hunter as he tackled him roughly, turning Hunter so he landed on his right side. Hunter’s feet flew out from underneath him first and he landed hard on his shoulder in the grass. The ball fell from his hand and rolled a couple of feet away.

  The clock buzzed as it hit zero.

  The bleachers were silent.

  The coaches and medics for both teams rushed onto the field. People around me stood so they could get a better look at what had happened. But for a long moment, I couldn’t do anything other than sit exactly where I was, my flute clutched tightly in both hands and my heartbeat throbbing in my ears.

  Then something inside me snapped.

  Ms. Holloway tried to stop me as I raced down the bleachers, almost kicking several people in the head as I scrambled over them. “Cassie, stay here!” she shouted, reaching for my arm.

  I had learned a thing or two from playing football with my brothers in the backyard, and I easily dodged out of her reach. I practically leaped over the people on the bottom bench as I hurried toward my brother.

  Please let this be like last time, I thought. Just a mild sprain.

  But as I pushed my way through the small crowd gathered around, I knew this wasn’t like last time. Because as I drew closer, what I had seen in my dream weeks ago played itself out on the grass in front of me.

  I skidded to a stop, staring horrified at my brother as he lay so still.

  Ackley pushed himself up and stepped back, limping slightly on the ankle Hunter had injured last year. He pulled off his helmet and watched as the medic pushed at Hunter’s shoulder, a sneer on his face. “The Trojan prince has fallen,” Ackley shouted.

  As Ackley turned around, his gaze met mine. His big eyes were wild. A large welt grew on one cheek and a little bit of blood trickled from his lip. I shuddered as he stared back at me. He looked so frightening; I had to look away.

  Hunter grimaced. He bit his lip to keep from crying out as the medic pushed on his right shoulder with his fingertips. I started toward him, but a hand grabbed my arm. Perry.

  “Let them do their work,” Perry said. “Hunter will be fine.”

  I shook my head as Hunter grunted in front of us. “He’s hurt,” I said. “What if he …”

  I had started to say “What if he can never play football again?” but I couldn’t even get the words out. Hunter without football was impossible to imagine. It had been his life since Dad had bought him his first football when he was six. For as long as I could remember, Hunter lived and breathed football. And he was counting on a scholarship for college.

  The panicked, frightened feeling from my dream overwhelmed me. This wasn’t just another injury; I knew in my gut that something was terribly wrong. I squeezed my eyes shut as Hunter let out a low moan.

  “Let us through!” said a familiar voice behind me. “That’s our son.”

  Mom pushed through the crowd first, followed by Dad. They dropped to their knees at Hunter’s side. Mom leaned over him, smoothing back his hair and kissing his hand.

  “He’s landed hard on his right shoulder,” the medic said. “He needs to see a doctor.”

  Behind us, the crowd in the bleachers murmured as they watched. For the second time that night, the medics carried a stretcher onto the field. They carefully rolled Hunter onto it, but I noticed the intense look of pain on his face.

  I started after the stretcher as the two medics carried Hunter away, but Mom turned around and stopped me. “No, Cassie. It’s okay. He’ll be all right. You stay here and enjoy the dance.”

  “You expect me to dance at a time like this?” I asked, waving my flute around.

  Mom patted my cheek. “There’s nothing you can do for him. We’re taking him to the hospital, and I’ll call you later to let you know how he is. Okay? You have a big night ahead.”

  I knew Mom was right. I wouldn’t be of much use at the hospital.

  “Call me as soon as you know anything,” I said.

  Mom nodded, blew a kiss to Perry and me, and then hurried after Dad and Hunter.

  “He’ll be okay,” Perry said, squeezing my hand. I knew he was trying to sound strong for me, but I could hear a waver in his voice. “He has to be.”

  “STOP BLINKING!” ELENA GRABBED MY CHIN IN one hand, digging her fingertips into my flesh.

  “Stop trying to tear my eyelids off!” I snapped.

  “It’s just a little bit of eye shadow,” Elena said. “And I wouldn’t be pressing so hard if you would just sit still.”

  Sitting still was impossible. My entire body felt as if it wanted to move constantly. My right foot bounced up and down while my left foot twisted back and forth. My right hand twirled a lock of hair around one finger while my left hand rubbed the fabric of my dress.

  “You’re going to ruin your dress,” Mallory scolded me, slapping at my hand. But she didn’t sound quite like her usual self, more like she was distracted and unable to put her full effort into criticizing me.

  We all weren’t quite as focused on getting ready for the dance as we might otherwise have been, if the game hadn’t ended like it did. Ackley bringing down Hunter meant the end of the big homecoming game. And a huge victory for Lacede: 27–17.

  My chest felt tight and tears threatened to spill down my cheeks whenever I thought of my brother. How was he doing? What was happening at the hospital? Would he be okay?

  I tried to push those thoughts aside and sit as still as I could while Elena finished her work on me. “There,” she said after a few more moments. “All done.”

  I looked at myself in the spotty locker-room mirror. The lighting in the room was an unflattering yellow, but still, my cheeks glowed with a rosy color and my lips seemed fuller thanks to the pale lipstick Elena had insisted I wear. I certainly didn’t look like myself. Would Greg even recognize me?

  My stomach did backflips. I pressed my palms to my abdomen and took a deep breath.

  “You look great,” Elena said, stepping up behind me. She had gotten ready in half the time of the other girls so that she could help me. Even with doing her makeup and hair quickly, Elena still looked amazing with her smoky eye shadow and dark red lips. Around her neck, a small gold charm was fastened. The charm was a delicate golden apple.

  “I can’t do this,” I whispered. “I feel like I’m going to get sick.”

  “You’d better not get sick and mess up your lipstick,” Elena warned me. “And you can do this. Greg is out there, waiting for you. He won’t even know what’s hit him once he sees you.”

  “Do you think anyone will be angry that I brought a Spartan as my date?” What I really wanted to ask was, “Am I a traitor to my brother for wanting to be with Greg tonight?”

  Hunter’s injury had changed things for me. It wasn’t just about what I wanted anymore. Almost all my thoughts focused on Hunter. He had tried to get me to stay away from Greg, and I hadn’t listened. Had my dream about the game been a
warning? Would Hunter be in the boys’ locker room right now getting ready for the dance if I had just done what he’d said and ended my friendship with Greg?

  “It’ll be fine,” Elena said. “Perry and I will keep things under control.”

  I snorted. “That makes me feel so relieved.”

  Elena smiled and pushed me toward the door. “Just shut up and get out there.”

  My body trembled again as I approached the door. Calm down, I told myself. I took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. This was Greg. My Greg. Well, not my Greg, but Greg as in my best friend.

  With Elena leading the way, I hurried across the school grounds toward the gym.

  The lights shone through the glass doors and windows along the front of the building. Students stood on the front steps, the guys trying to look cool and casual while the girls checked out one another’s dresses. The low, hushed voices of the crowd and grim expressions on the faces around me echoed the general mood of the evening. It was homecoming, but no one was excited, not after losing to the Spartans and not after what had happened to Hunter.

  Elena found Perry quickly and ran off to him, leaving me alone in the courtyard. I scanned the students gathered on the front steps, but there was no sign of Greg. My heartbeat throbbed in my ears. Had I been stood up for my date-that-wasn’t-really-a-date-but-that-I-hoped-wasa-date?

  “Hey, Cassie.”

  Greg appeared at my side and I let out the breath I had been holding.

  “Hey,” I said. He looked great in his dark-gray pants and light-blue shirt, with a gray-and-blue striped tie.

  “I didn’t know if I should bring a corsage or not,” he said, holding up a single white lily. “So I compromised and got this.”

  I took the lily with a slightly shaky hand. “Thank you,” I said, trying to fight back the flush that I knew was creeping up my neck.

  Greg offered me his arm. “Ready for our big entrance?” He sounded a little nervous and he glanced warily at the doors of the gym.

  I slipped my arm through his, tingling at the warmth of his body through his sleeve. “Ready.”