The Field

by Tracy Richardson

  Finally, we’re back outside at the side of the plant where the trucks tip their loads of coal into the processing area. Our chirpy guide is saying, “There’s a picnic area along the shore of the Eagle River where you will have your bag lunches, and Mr. Asplunth, the plant foreman, will come out while you’re eating and answer any of your questions.”

  Shit. I look over at Will, whose face has hardened again. The prickly feeling intensifies and, instinctively, my muscles tense, ready. Miss Chirpy continues now with an even bigger smile on her face. “I understand that one of you is Will Asplunth, the foreman’s son? Will, would you like to come inside and visit with your dad?” She looks at us happily, searching for Will.

  All the students turn to look for Will as well. Standing beside me, he says through clenched teeth, “No, thanks. I’m going to eat on the bus.” He turns abruptly and starts jogging across the unloading area towards the parking lot.

  No! Stop! It explodes into my brain and before I can think I’m lunging towards Will and grabbing him by the arm; yanking him back towards me. I sense more than see out of the corner of my eye, the dump truck coming fast around the corner barreling towards us. I’ve pulled him so hard that his momentum brings him crashing into me and we hit the ground, scraping and bruising ourselves on the asphalt and landing in a tangle of arms and legs. The dump truck, going much slower now, makes a wide turn around our group and passes harmlessly by where Will and I lay on the ground.

  “What the hell?” Will says, angrily, shoving me away from him and clambering to his feet. “What was that for? I can’t believe you actually threw me to the ground.”

  “That dump truck, I thought it was going to hit you,” I stammer out. I knew it was going to hit him and I just reacted. But it didn’t even come close.

  “What are you, like Superman or something?” he says sarcastically. “It was nowhere near me.”

  “I’m sorry. I thought it was. I guess I was wrong.” I can’t believe this. I was trying to save him from getting hit by a truck and I’m apologizing. I feel like a complete idiot. The entire class is staring at Will and me. He’s glaring down at me, and I’m still on the ground, blood dripping onto the asphalt from where the skin is scraped off my arm.

  Will takes a deep breath and lets out a whoosh of air. “It’s cool man. Sorry for yelling at you.” He extends his hand towards me to help me up. “Just don’t pull that shit on me again, okay?” He gives a half-hearted laugh.

  Mr. Ogle comes over to see if we’re okay and find out what’s going on. Then our guide takes the class over to the grassy area by the river for lunch and goes off in search of a first aid kit. I sit down in the shade under a tree, and Renee comes over to sit beside me. She puts her hand on my wrist below a spot on my arm where most of the skin is scraped off.

  “Are you okay?” she asks, her eyes wide with concern. “What happened?” What did just happen? My goalkeeper instincts kicked in when I thought Will was in danger, but how did I know that? The truck didn’t come anywhere near him. I had an uneasy feeling all day, and then the sudden flash of danger! Had I been wrong?

  “I don’t know. I guess I thought the dump truck was going to hit Will and I pulled him out of the way. I didn’t think, I just reacted.” I lean my head back against the tree.

  “Why did you think it was going to hit him?” It’s a reasonable question, but do I have a reasonable answer? If anyone would believe me, it would be Renee, so I decide to tell her the truth.

  “It just flashed into my head when he started to jog across the parking lot. I didn’t even see the truck at first. I just knew he was in danger.” I shake my head and shrug. “But I guess I was wrong.”

  “Maybe,” she says. “Or maybe you really did save him.”

  Just then, the tour guide arrives with first aid supplies and kneels next to me. “Here’s some antibiotic ointment and bandages.” And then to Mr. Ogle, who is standing nearby, she says, “I’m so sorry, but Mr. Asplunth had to take a very important phone call and won’t be able to talk with everyone.”

  “Figures. Mr. Unreliable,” says Will, who’s sitting a few feet away, which surprises me since he was so actively wanting to avoid his dad earlier. I guess nothing his dad does at this point would be good in Will’s eyes. I’m actually relieved that we won’t be having any confrontations. I’ve had enough excitement for one day.

  AT PRACTICE THAT afternoon, Will and I have to see the trainers to have our ‘injuries’ checked out and to see if we’re okay to practice. There is no way we’re going to let a few scrapes and bruises stop us from practicing. We have a game on Friday and we both want to be in the starting lineup, so we downplay how sore we are. I’m still in competition for the starting spot with Brett, and I don’t want to give him any advantage. Even though it hurts like hell every time I make a save, I go through the whole practice anyway, through gritted teeth. That’s what ibuprofen is for.

  On the way home with Will, I figure this is as good a time as any to see if he wants to talk about his dad. He didn’t say much during the rest of the field trip or on the bus ride home except to give me grief, along with everyone else, about throwing him to the ground. I just tried to blow it off and make a joke out of the whole thing.

  After we get into Will’s car and he turns on some music, he leans his head back in the seat, closes his eyes and lets out a sigh. “What a helluva day. I’m glad that’s over.”

  “Yeah, me too. So things are pretty bad with your dad?” I venture.

  “They’re non-existent. He just took off. I haven’t seen him except at the soccer game—not that he hasn’t been calling and texting me. I just don’t want to talk to him. My mom’s a mess and my little sister just keeps asking when he’s coming home. I feel like I have to try to hold it together for everyone.” He covers his face with his hands and pushes his fingers into his hair. “Whatever,” he says, blowing air through his pursed lips, and then a moment later he says, “Dammit!” and pounds his hands on the steering wheel.

  “I saw him in town about a week ago. He was coming out of a restaurant with someone—a younger woman. I didn’t actually see anything, but it just felt off, not right, you know?”

  “It’s probably this woman he works with. He swears that he’s not having an affair, but I bet he is. Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” He turns on me accusingly.

  “I don’t know. I wasn’t really even sure there was anything to tell. I didn’t know what was going on with him at home.”

  “Yeah, well, next time you see something like that, tell me, will you?” he says angrily and slams the steering wheel again.

  “Sure, no problem.”

  “You and Renee seem to be pretty tight these days. Is that helping you get in good with Dr. Auberge?” he says with an edge to his voice.

  Now it’s my turn to be pissed. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? Are you suggesting that I’m using Renee for the internship? That’s pretty low.”

  “No.” He leans back against the seat again and blows air through his mouth. “No, I know you’re not using her. Sorry, man. My brain’s rattled these days.” He gives me a rueful smile. “Forget it.”

  I don’t say anything because I’m still pretty hacked off. My hands are clenched in my lap, and I have to consciously relax my shoulders and flex my hands. People say shit like that when they’re angry because there’s a grain of truth to it. Part of Will must actually believe I would do that.

  “Has Coach Swenson said anything to you and Brett about who’s starting on Friday?” Maybe I’m just imagining it, since this is something we normally talk about, but his asking me now feels like another slam. I look to see if I can tell from his expression, but he’s started the car and is looking over his shoulder to back out of the parking space. I decide to just let it go.

  “Nope. We’re both still hoping to start. He may wait until right before the game like last time, which is crap.”

  “You should be starting. You’re better in the clutch than Brett. He g
ets rattled when the pressure is on, but that’s when you’re on fire.”

  “Thanks,” I say, somewhat mollified. “Since Brett’s a senior and he didn’t start last year, I think Swenson is giving him an extra shot, which I guess in theory I support, but not so much when it involves me.”

  “Sitting on the bench sucks. At least playing is the reward for working our asses off in practice all week.” He stops the car in front of my house. “Adios amigo.”

  “See you.” I get out and slam the door shut. I feel sort of off kilter, like something isn’t right with the Universe. I’m so used to being pretty much in sync with Will—I mean, he’s been my best friend since grade school—but lately, I don’t know what to expect from him. This thing with his dad must be really messing him up.

  I HADN’T PLANNED to say anything about what happened at the plant to my parents, but at dinner that night Marcie blew that idea for me.

  “So, I heard you threw Will to the ground on the field trip to the coal plant today,” she says smugly, taking a bite of food and chewing slowly while she watches for my reaction.

  “Where’d you hear that?” I ask calmly. But I’m wondering how she could possibly know about it.

  “The sister of one of the girls in my algebra class was on the field trip. She sent her a text.” Figures.

  “What happened?” asks my mom, alarmed. “Were you fighting?”

  “No, it wasn’t like that at all,” I say, glaring at Marcie. “Will was just walking in the parking lot and I thought I saw a truck coming, so I pulled him out of the way. I just pulled him a little too hard and we both fell onto the pavement. It wasn’t a big deal.”

  “Oh.” My mom looks relieved. “Are you both okay then?”

  “Yeah, we’re fine. Just some scrapes from where we fell to the ground.” I hold up my arms and show them the raw patches. “I don’t know why Marcie even brought it up.”

  “Gross. Do you mind? I’m eating.” Marcie makes a face.

  “Okay. That’s enough. We don’t need any bickering at the table,” my mom says. She’s big on having family dinners every night. I’m sure she read in one of her parenting books that it’s important for kids to have family time at the dinner table, which I guess is true, but it’s not like we’re the Brady Bunch, or anything. “I’m glad both you’re both okay. I’d hate to think what could have happened if you hadn’t been there.”

  “Did Will’s dad show you around?” my dad asks.

  “No. He was going to come out and talk with us, but he was on an important call and couldn’t get away.”

  “Hmm … ”

  “You mean he didn’t even come out to see if Will was alright?” says my Mom.

  “I guess the call was really important.” I shrug. I wonder if they know anything about what’s going on. It’s not like they’re friends with the Asplunths, but they do know them. I don’t think they’d bring it up at the table with Marcie and Drew around.

  “Thanks for dinner, Mom, I’m going upstairs to study.” I grab my plate and glass and leave them on the counter for my dad to clean up. My parents aren’t big traditionalists in most things, but my mom cooks and my dad does the dishes. I’m not sure he can even make anything more challenging than frozen pizza, which is what he makes when Mom’s not home to cook. On my way out of the kitchen, I get four ibuprofen tablets. My shoulder is starting to throb.

  I have a paper due on A Farewell to Arms, so I work on that for a while and then do some reading for my other classes. It was a rough day, and I’m beat, so I only last about an hour before I have to go to bed. I crawl under the comforter and am out almost instantly. In the dead of night I’m awakened by another nightmare, and this one’s different. No violent explosion, but it’s worse, because this time it’s about Will.

  It’s a morphed version of what happened at the plant. What makes it a nightmare is that I know Will is in danger; I can see the truck running him down, but I can’t move. I can’t save him. His face is turned towards me, eyes wide with terror, but my legs feel like concrete, rooted to the ground. The really terrible thing, though, as if that’s not terrible enough, is that I feel like I should be able to do something, like I know what to do, but I can’t quite remember how. I watch helplessly as the truck careens toward Will and, just before the sickening impact, Will screams and I wake up.

  10

  I CAN’T HELP thinking about the nightmare when Will picks me up the next day for the remote viewing session with Dr. Auberge. I mean, it’s probably normal to have dreams like that after something dramatic and really stressful happens. Isn’t that what dreams are supposed to do? Help you sort things out? Still, it creeps me out to think of the look on Will’s face with the truck bearing down on him. I glance over at him as we cross the parking lot to the physics lab. The evening light catches him from behind and shines through his blond hair, giving him a golden halo. Which is creepy in a way, too.

  I’m brought out of my thoughts by Will asking me where we’re meeting up with Renee.

  “She said she’d be at the lab with Stephen.”

  “Okay, that’s cool,” he says. “I can’t stay the whole time. I’ve got a Spanish test tomorrow that I haven’t studied for. So, are you guys going out now, or what?”

  “We haven’t really talked about it—it’s only been a week. It’s weird. You know how sometimes when you meet someone for the first time you feel a connection with them right away, like you already know them? That’s how I feel with her. Like I’ve known her forever, and like I’m just getting to know her for the first time.”

  “Dude, that doesn’t make any sense.” We’re at the door and Will reaches to open it with one hand and pats me on the back with the other. “She’s got you totally whipped already.”

  “Yeah, I guess.” I don’t try to explain. I’m not really sure why I even thought Will would understand. He just doesn’t think about things that way.

  We’re supposed to meet Stephen and Renee in the office at the back of the lab. When we get there, he and Renee are sitting across from each other at the desk deep in conversation. Renee jumps up and comes over to us as we walk in the door. She kisses me on the cheek to say hello, which ignites a warm glow inside me that starts in my chest and radiates out, enveloping my entire body. I reach for her hand. I think in France people normally greet each other very warmly, so maybe this is just a typical hello, but I find myself feeling very happy about French customs.

  “Alright. Are you ready to do some more remote viewing?” Stephen stands up and rubs his hands together, which makes him look like a mad scientist plotting our demise. He isn’t wearing a lab coat tonight, and his long, knobby arms stick out absurdly from his t-shirt. “Since you two seem to know each other,” he looks at me and Renee, “why don’t you take Eric to room B and I’ll get Will started. It’s the same set up as before. Fifteen slides, one minute to transmit and one minute to record your impressions. Any questions?” We shake our heads. “Okay, follow me.”

  Will and Stephen leave the room and take a right down the hall. I follow Renee to the rooms on the left of the corridor. Room B looks pretty much identical to the room I was in before. Desk, chair, computer monitor. I sit down in the chair while Renee turns on the monitor and logs onto the system. She’s leaning across me and I smell the lemon scent of her hair and feel the warmth of her body. I reach up and put my hand on her shoulder. She turns her head and smiles at me.

  When she’s done at the computer, it displays a blank, blue screen. “You’re all set to go. I’ll be back for you in half an hour.”

  The session goes pretty much the same as before. I watch the blue screen and try to focus on receiving images for the first minute, then input my impressions during the second minute. Like last time, it goes pretty fast, and I’m surprised when the last screen pops up saying SESSION COMPLETE.

  When Renee comes in the room to get me, I’m stretching my arms over my head and moving my neck around to get out the kinks. I’m basically always sore. Another
goalkeeper hazard.

  “Want a shoulder massage? I’m particularly good at it,” she asks, putting her hands on my shoulders. Her touch is strong and firm. I can feel my muscles unknotting.

  “That feels great. Your fingers are really strong.” I’m actually surprised.

  “It’s from sculpting and throwing pots on the wheel. Wet clay is really heavy.”

  “I’d like to see your work sometime.”

  “I’d love to show you. I have some paintings that I’m working on at school that you can see, but I didn’t bring any of my finished pottery over from France. They’re too heavy and bulky. You can come by the art studio, though.” She kneads my shoulders a minute more. “Enough massage for now. They’ll be waiting for us.” Reluctantly, I get up and follow her out.

  Stephen and Will are already back in the office when we get there.

  “I don’t think I have time to do another session,” Will says. “Stephen says he can tell us how we did, and then I’ve gotta go.”

  “Okay, sure,” I say, although I’d like to stay longer.

  Stephen sits down at the desk with the computer and starts typing. After a minute he sits back and says, “High scores again. You even improved a couple of percentage points.” Then he looks up at Renee and me. “Are you two together, as in ‘a couple’? Because if you are, we could do some more sessions with the two of you since we have the lab time.”

  I look at Renee, not sure how to respond to this. I’d like us to be a couple, but like I told Will, we haven’t talked about it. It’d also be cool to do the remote viewing with her. She’s looking at me with her eyebrows raised questioningly and a wicked little smile on her lips. I nod to her and smile back.