Light fingertips brushed the back of her hand, and she guiltily looked to see what Koji wanted. The boy asked, “Why do you ignore Marcus?”
“I always ignore Marcus.”
Koji nodded solemnly. “Why do you continue to ignore Marcus?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” she asked, sitting a little straighter.
“Your perspective has not changed?”
“Technically, yes,” Prissie said in a low voice. “But I can’t suddenly act friendly with someone like him. He’s not the kind of person I would ever be friends with. Plus, it would make it seem like the rumors were true.”
“But they are not.”
“I know that, and you know that,” she replied patiently. “But people would think differently of me if I acted differently toward him.”
Koji tipped his head to one side, considering her closely. “The opinion of others is important to you.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Prissie quickly protested.
“Why not?”
“That makes me sound shallow!”
His gaze sharpened, then softened, and he gently asked, “Does my opinion mean more to you than those of your other classmates?”
Prissie had to think about that one, because it had never occurred to her that Koji might have an opinion. For some reason, she’d assumed he was just taking everything in with those clear eyes of his. Now that she was thinking along those lines, she knew deep down what her answer must be. “Yes.”
At noon on Friday, Prissie and Koji carried their lunches to their usual table and slid into the two remaining spots on the end. The conversation was well underway, so there were just a few quick hellos before everyone picked up where they left off. Prissie wasn’t really surprised when Jennifer didn’t bother to make eye contact.
“I usually dress as a cat,” Elise announced as she poked at her salad. Her dyed black hair was pulled back with an electric blue headband that perfectly matched the makeup rimming her hazel eyes.
“I can’t see you as a cute little kitten,” giggled Margery.
“Not cute,” the girl replied scornfully. “I have two words for you. Black. Leather. ‘Nuff said.”
“Meow,” April said, making a little cat’s paw motion before fishing around in her lunch bag and coming up with a container of yogurt.
“So what are you doing for Halloween this year?” Jennifer asked Margery.
Prissie smiled, for she already knew the answer. Every year, she and Margery always took part in West Edinton’s Fall Festival by helping out at Loafing Around. During the last weekend in October, the whole town turned out for an annual celebration of its founding, and this year, the big deal was even bigger because it was West Edinton’s bicentennial. Main Street would be roped off at both ends, and with a corn roast, food vendors, live music, and dancing, it would be like a huge block party. Prissie hadn’t had the chance to talk to Margery yet about the plans they’d made for the bakery, but there was still plenty of time for that.
However, Margery clapped her hands and announced, “Party at my house!”
“R-really?” Prissie asked, startled. “But what about the Festival?”
The blonde girl smiled sweetly. “Well, you don’t really need me this year. You have Koji, right?”
Prissie carefully said, “I’m sure he’d be happy to help out.”
“Indeed,” Koji acknowledged.
“And you’re invited, of course,” Margery breezed on. “If your parents let you out early, you can come over! It’ll be so much fun! We’re doing all kinds of spooky stuff, and everyone will wear costumes!”
“Your Mom is being so cool about the whole thing,” Elise said smugly.
Prissie could feel the color draining from her face. Not only had Margery made plans that excluded her, she’d made them with Elise. She clenched her fists in her lap and stared determinedly at her untouched sandwich, feeling sick to her stomach. Koji shifted in his seat so that their arms touched, and she leaned slightly into his silent offering of comfort.
The conversation spun on without her when Jennifer said, “I have a gypsy costume this year, with tons of scarves and beads, and I found an ankle bracelet with little bells on it!”
“Hey, did you make up your mind yet on your costume?” Elise asked Margery. “I still think you should be a witch, so I can be your familiar.”
“I’m still not sure,” she said. “I haven’t looked around yet.”
“We should shop!” Jennifer exclaimed.
“Yes. Yes, we should,” agreed April. “I still need some props for my costume. I’ll be a pirate this year.”
“With a corset?” asked Elise eagerly.
“With a plume!” April countered with a grin. “Best. Hat. Ever!”
Ten minutes later, the warning bell rang, and everyone at the table hurried to finish their meal. Most of Prissie’s friends trailed after Elise without a backward glance, still talking about Margery’s party. Only April stopped to check on her and Koji. With a sympathetic smile, she called, “Will you be at the game tonight?”
While Prissie only managed a mute nod, the young angel brightly replied, “Yes, we will be there.”
That night’s game was against the Predators, the Warriors’ toughest rivals, so everyone in the stands was keyed up. When the Predators took the field in a flood of green jerseys, the visiting team’s bleachers sent up a roar of support. Their school had some boys on their cheer squad, and they were doing some impressive formations on the sidelines. They even had a team mascot — someone dressed as a toothy dinosaur.
At halftime, the Warriors were holding their own, and not long after play resumed, Coach Hobbes sent Neil to the sideline to warm up his arm. Prissie wondered if that meant her brother would be playing tonight. She really hoped so.
Whistles blew as a timeout was called, and Koji nudged her and asked, “Do you want something hot to drink?”
Prissie frowned in surprise. “Do you have money?”
“I do,” he answered with a pleased smile. “Harken gave me some, and I have not found many reasons to use it. May I treat you?”
“I’d like that,” she replied politely. “Cocoa, please?”
Koji was barely out of sight when Milo slipped into the vacant spot the Observer left behind. “Good evening, Miss Priscilla!”
She smiled. “What, are you Koji’s backup?”
“I just thought you looked a little lonely.”
“In the middle of a crowd?”
“You’d be surprised,” the Messenger replied. “Are you enjoying the game? It’s been a real nail-biter!”
“Oh, I guess so,” she hedged. “I don’t know very much about football.”
Milo’s eyebrows lifted. “You’re here for every home game, but you don’t know what’s going on?”
Prissie nodded. “I follow along. If everyone else is cheering, I cheer, too.”
“Are you saying that you have no idea why you do what you do?”
“Yes.”
“So, you’re just going through the motions?”
There seemed to be a shade of disapproval in his tone, and Prissie’s conscience twinged. “Isn’t it best if I cheer for our guys no matter what? I want to support Neil and the team.”
“I think it’s wise to understand the whys and wherefores, but this is only a game,” Milo conceded. “Other things have far greater importance.”
“Like what?”
“The kinds of things that last forever.”
“Oh,” Prissie replied awkwardly. “So it’s okay if I don’t understand what’s going on out there?”
“Yes, understanding the ins and outs of football is optional,” Milo assured. “However, it might be good if you tried to understand the people who are playing that game.”
She looked out onto the field where the players were taking up their positions once more. “Why?”
The mailman clapped his hands as the game resumed, his eyes on the field. “Because they’re eternal.”
“Oh,” she said again, feeling like a dunce. “I didn’t think of it that way.”
“I can’t help but think such things.”
“Because of your job?” she asked, peeking uncertainly over her shoulder in case anyone was listening in.
“Yeah,” he said with a crooked smile. “I also happen to enjoy football. Would you like me to explain what’s going on?”
“I guess,” she agreed. “I should warn you, though. Grandpa’s tried, and Dad’s tried, and Neil’s tried. They get all excited and use words I don’t understand, so once it starts sounding like blah, blah, blah, I stop listening.”
He laughed. “I can say with some authority that it’s no use trying to give a message to someone who isn’t listening.”
Blushing in embarrassment, Prissie promised, “I’ll listen. Just don’t expect too much.”
With another chuckle, Milo pointed to the players of the field. “The boys in red uniforms are trying to carry the football across the line at that end of the field, and the boys in green are trying to carry the ball across the line on the other end. If either of them succeeds, they earn points.”
Prissie stared up at him, feeling insulted. “I know that much, Milo.”
“I’m not patronizing you, Miss Priscilla.” The Messenger held up his hands in a gesture of innocence, saying, “I’ve simply eliminated all the jargon from my explanation.”
“Go ahead, then,” she said with a sigh.
As the Warriors battled their way down the field, Milo simplified the game to such a degree that Prissie actually started to see the big picture. His commentary made a lot more sense than that given by the announcers up in the press box, and the more she understood, the more she cared about what was happening. “It’s like a battle,” Milo explained. “Both sides have a goal, but only one can achieve it. To do that, they must prevent their opponent from making progress.”
She tapped his arm to get his attention. “Do you fight?”
Passion flashed fiercely in his blue eyes. “I don’t carry a sword, but I carry messages for those who do. I would see the will of God carried out,” he declared earnestly.
Prissie’s heart thudded at the sudden change in her friend’s demeanor. It was as if she was catching a glimpse of the real Milo, an angel who served God with all his heart, and to be honest, it was unsettling. She still sort of preferred the old Milo, the mailman who was always ready with a kind word and an easy smile. “Well, be careful,” she said briskly.
He took the time to consider her demand, then answered, “I’ll do whatever God asks of me.”
“Then I hope He doesn’t send you into danger.”
The Messenger’s expression softened, and there was affection in his tone when he replied, “Thanks for your concern, Miss Priscilla.”
She fidgeted under his gaze and turned back to the field. “What’s happening now?”
Milo resumed his lesson by pointing to the various players, giving the names of their positions, and explaining their roles. Before she knew it, Koji came into view, carefully carrying two steaming cups. When he reached them, Milo quickly relinquished his seat, saying, “If you’ll excuse me? I’m needed elsewhere.”
“You are?” she asked in surprise.
“Yep.” Placing his hand on his young teammate’s shoulder, he said, “Koji’s learned many of the finer points of football, so he can continue your lesson.”
“You are taking turns!” she accused huffily. “I don’t need a babysitter, and I already have a Guardian!”
“Don’t scold us for doing what we must, Miss Priscilla.” With an uncommonly serious expression, Milo added, “And don’t worry. It’ll be all right.”
As he strolled off down the sideline, Koji placed a cup of cocoa into her hands. She curled cold fingers around its welcome warmth and asked, “What will be all right? Do you know what he’s talking about?”
Koji gazed after the Messenger. “No.”
She’d always thought angels should be a little mysterious, but Prissie was beginning to think she preferred straight answers that made sense. With a gusty sigh, she took a cautious sip of her cocoa. “Mmm, this is good! Thank you, Koji.”
Her friend beamed. “I agree, and you are most welcome.”
Prissie felt a burst of affection for the angel who’d taken on the appearance of a boy in order to be by her side.
Late in the final quarter, Prissie was actually paying attention to the game. She knew the names and faces of all the football players, but it was harder to tell them apart with their helmets on. The announcer up in the press box called out the play-by-play, which helped a little. Still, it was odd to hear the boys referred to by their last names or by their uniform numbers. Over the cheers of the crowd and the blare of their school’s fight song, the announcer’s voice rang out.
“… And Blake is on the move, looking for an opening … and there’s the throw! It’s a quick slant pass to Number 14, Mueller!”
The stands roared with excitement as Mueller tucked the ball snugly against his chest and started toward the end zone. It took a moment for Prissie to realize that the wide receiver the commentator kept referring to as “Mueller” was actually Joey, one of Ransom’s friends.
The lanky teen was quick on his feet, but not fast enough to outrun one of the Predator’s linebackers. A cry of disappointment rang across the field when the green-clad opponent gained enough ground to wrap his arms around Joey’s chest and slam him into the turf.
“Down on the forty-six yard line. It’ll be third and four.”
An uneasy murmur rippled through the crowd while the linebacker picked himself up, but Number 14 didn’t move. One of his teammates hurried over, then waved furiously at the sideline, calling, “Coach! Better c’mere!”
Whistles blew, the clock stopped, and Coach Hobbes jogged out onto the field to check on Joey. Prissie glanced up to where the rest of her family was seated in the stands and saw that her grandfather was on his feet, frowning as he rubbed his chin. Her father said something to him, and Grandpa Pete grimaced, pointing to his shoulder as he answered Jayce’s question.
Around her, Prissie heard concerned voices. “That poor boy!”
“He’s not moving! Do you think he’s been knocked out?”
Turning to Koji, Prissie asked, “What just happened?”
“A player has been injured.”
That much was obvious. Fleetingly, she wondered why Joey Mueller’s Guardian hadn’t stepped in. “Is it bad?”
“He is in a great deal of pain,” Koji replied frankly.
Prissie didn’t know what to do, but while she looked on with the rest of the crowd, someone hurried past, another person slouching after him. With a start, she recognized Ransom and Marcus. They headed straight for their team’s bench, and Ransom punched one of the big linemen on the arm. The back of his red jersey read EVANS. Brock Evans was Ransom’s other close friend, and all three of them stared onto the field with tense expressions.
Derrick Matthews eased Joey onto his back and was talking to him. It’d been a long time since they’d had a serious injury during a game, but that’s one of the reasons Coach Hobbes kept Mr. Matthews around. Although a carpenter by trade, Derrick was also a first responder with West Edinton’s volunteer fire department. And an avid football fan. He acted as the Warriors’ trainer and provided first aid when necessary.
Cheerleaders huddled together, looking nervous as they whispered, and members of both teams removed their helmets and knelt along the sidelines. She spotted Milo kneeling next to Brock. At the mailman’s beckoning wave, Ransom and Marcus climbed over the bench to join them, showing support for their downed friend. “Is that why Milo was needed?” Prissie murmured curiously.
“I believe so,” Koji acknowledged.
A grim murmur from the crowd, and Prissie heard someone say, “Here comes a stretcher.”
The referees urged everyone to back up and make room for the two EMTs. When they carried Joey off the field
a minute later, everyone clapped and called encouragement, and the wide receiver managed a clumsy wave before disappearing into the back of the ambulance.
The injury put a damper on the rest of the game, but the Warriors rallied, pushing their way into field goal territory. They brought out their kicker, and the game ended with West Edinton winning by three points. As the stands began to empty, Prissie again caught snatches of conversation, and she had to agree with those who said the victory had been a costly one.
During the ride home, Prissie sat between Neil and Tad on one of their van’s wide bench seats. The Pomeroy’s overall mood was subdued, but her two older brothers fell into conversation.
“Did you learn anything more about Joey while you were in the locker room?” Tad asked.
“Only that they took him to the hospital down in Harper to do some X-rays and stuff,” Neil replied.
Tad hummed. “Was he that bad off?”
“I think it was just a precaution,” Neil said. “Joey was alert and everything before they carted him off. He was more embarrassed than anything that he had to be pulled out of the game.”
“I thought he was really hurt,” said Prissie.
“Yeah, he was definitely banged up,” he confirmed. “Derrick said he thought the collarbone was broken, which means he’s out for the rest of the season.”
“Too bad.”
“No kidding.”
Prissie sternly asked, “Since when do you call Mr. Matthews by his first name?”
Neil grinned and tugged her braid. “He invited all of us on the team to call him Derrick, so don’t fuss at me about my manners. You call his wife by her first name.”
The Hidden Deep Page 10