The Field

by Tracy Richardson

  “Yes,” she says confidently. Gotta love that in a girl. “We can stay.”

  “Great. I’m outta here,” Will says.

  Stephen leans back in his chair and puts his feet up on the desk. He motions for us to sit down in the two chairs on the other side. “I’d like to try something a little different. Eric is showing some good enhanced consciousness abilities, so I think we could do a more advanced type of remote viewing. It’s basically the same idea of connecting consciousness at a distance, but in this case Eric, you’ll be trying to see in your mind’s eye what Renee is seeing through her eyes. What’s in the room around her. In the most successful sessions, the remote viewer can actually feel like they are in the room with their viewing partner.”

  “Sure. Sounds cool,” I say, but I’m thinking about what Stephen said about my showing strong enhanced consciousness abilities. It makes me feel uncomfortable, self-conscious.

  “Okay, great. Wait here for a minute while I get Renee set up. We have moveable props in the subject room that we change out for each session.” While they’re gone I wonder what it even means to have ‘enhanced consciousness’ and look at the titles of the books in the shelves around the small office. There are a lot of beat-up science textbooks, mostly physics, but also some chemistry, biology and astronomy and several mechanical and electrical engineering books. Mixed in randomly with the textbooks are novels and other books—Carl Sagan, Isaac Asimov, Carl Jung, David Bohm and Ray Bradbury. Science fiction and science writers with a different perspective, maybe not what you would expect to see in a university lab.

  Stephen takes me to the same room as before, but this time, instead of entering my observations into the computer, I’m supposed to say out loud what my impressions are and the microphone in the computer will record me. Afterwards, they’ll analyze the recording to see how well I did. Stephen will also be able to hear what I say as we go along.

  “Most people say they get the best impressions when they close their eyes and we dim the lights in the room. But don’t get too comfortable. We don’t want you to fall asleep. It’s happened before,” Stephen says. “The computer will make a pinging sound when the session begins. Ready?”

  “Yes.”

  After he leaves I lean back in the chair, which aside from the computer, is the nicest thing in the room. It’s one of those high backed, padded executive office chairs. I close my eyes and wait for the ping. When it comes, I feel pretty odd talking out loud to myself and knowing that Stephen is listening, and maybe Dr. Auberge will listen to the recording later. But I ramble on anyway. I try to focus on Renee. Her face and hair and citrus scent. Her hazel/green eyes and musical bracelets. I try to imagine where she might be or what might be around her. I see her sitting in a cloth-covered chair, like a living room chair, and I can’t tell if I am totally making it up or if I’m getting something. The colors on the backs of my eyelids are different shades of blue from indigo to royal to pale powder blue. Then a field of blue. Little dots of blue. Now a yellow sun growing larger and exploding into smaller suns with flickering, pointed tongues of fire rippling all around them. I’m also getting random thoughts about things like having to mow the lawn and when my next paper is due in language arts and how my shoulder is aching, but I try to push them aside and focus my mind on Renee. Actually, it all seems pretty random. It’s not like I can really picture anything for certain or tell the difference between my own chaotic thoughts and actual impressions I might be getting from Renee.

  The computer pings again, announcing the end of the session. When Stephen comes to get me, I’m feeling pretty discouraged, but he’s really hyped up.

  “That was a great session!” he says, bursting through the door. Renee is behind him.

  “Really? ’Cause I felt like I was just rambling incoherently about nonsense.”

  “Come with me.” He grabs me by the wrist and drags me down the hall to what I presume is the room Renee was in. “Look.” Stephen steps aside so I can go in first.

  The room isn’t large—about 12 feet by 12 feet maybe. I step in and look around and then take a step back in surprise. In the center of the room is a table covered with a few objects, but in the corner is a blue fabric-covered armchair and next to that a folding screen with a pattern of blue flowers running across it. Directly across from me, hanging on the wall, is a picture. It’s a poster of Vincent Van Gogh’s Sunflowers. Bright yellow sunflowers in a vase looking just like little suns surrounded by petals of fire. Blue chair, blue flowers and bright yellow suns.

  I take another step back—Stephen’s looking at me like we won the lottery or something and Renee is smiling and happy, but I’m a little freaked out. I mean it’s not like I actually saw Van Gogh’s Sunflowers or the blue flowers on the screen in my head, but this is too close to be coincidence. Maybe there is something to this collective consciousness stuff, but I have no idea how I’m connecting with it.

  11

  RIDING THE BENCH really sucks. Before tonight’s game, Coach Swenson pulled Brett and me aside and said it was Brett’s turn to start and ‘show what he can do,’ so now I’m the one sitting on the bench watching the game. Which blows. The worst part may be that all my friends and family are here to watch me play and instead I’m stuck on the bench. I’m rooting for us to win, and I want Brett to make saves, but I know that every time he stops a shot it’s a point in his favor for being the permanent starter. I hate not being able to play.

  The crowd erupts as Brett dives and saves a shot headed for the right corner. He gathers the ball to punt it downfield and directs the players where to go. I have to admit he’s good. We’re both good, but I’d like to think that I’m better.

  His punt goes past the center line and Paul intercepts it, settles the ball and takes off toward the other goal. He doesn’t have any help, but it doesn’t matter because he’s crazy fast and the other team is caught with only one defender in position in the backfield. Paul jukes around him and then it’s just him and the keeper. The keeper comes out, but he’s late and Paul chips the ball over his head and into the goal. Score!

  Everyone on the bench is on their feet, yelling and pounding each other on the back. The crowd is going wild. I’m yelling along with everyone else, but I’m also thinking that it was Brett’s punt that set up the goal. Good for Brett, not so good for me.

  We end up winning the game 2-1. In the locker room after the game, everyone is really pumped.

  “Are you going to the party at Allison Fischer’s house tonight?” Paul asks as he towel dries his hair. “It’s gonna be awesome.”

  “Yup, I’ll be there,” replies Will. “Got to celebrate another win!”

  “What about you, Horton? You going?” Paul asks me.

  “Yeah, I guess.” I’ve finished getting dressed and now I’m shoving my gear and uniform into my bag. I probably won’t even have to wash it since I didn’t break a sweat. I don’t really feel like I’m part of the win since I didn’t play. Maybe going to the party will get me out of my foul mood. “Where does she live?”

  “Out in that bird-name housing development on the east side of town. Avian Ridge or something,” says Paul. “Just look for the cars.”

  Will and I leave the locker room together to meet up with Cole, Renee and Bonnie, who are waiting for us by the field.

  “Brett looked pretty good out there,” I say, as we walk across the asphalt toward them.

  “He made a few easy saves. Nothing spectacular, though,” Will replies. “Don’t worry, you’re still the man.” This makes me feel slightly better. “Did you see me rocking the defense? It’s not all about you, you know.”

  “I saw you—you were a brick wall.”

  “You got that right. Nothing left for Brett to save anyway.”

  When we get up to where the group is standing, Will says, “There’s a party at Allison Fischer’s tonight. Bonnie and I are going. Cole, do you want to ride with us?”

  “Affirmative. I call shotgun.”

  “N
o way are you getting shotgun,” says Bonnie indignantly. “Are you guys going?” she asks me and Renee.

  “Do you want to?” I ask Renee.

  “Sure, sounds like fun.” She smiles at me as she smoothes her hair behind one ear.

  “Okay, we’ll meet you guys there.” I hoist my gym bag onto my shoulder.

  The three of them leave and Renee and I follow behind toward the parking lot. I have my head down literally and figuratively. Sensing my mood, Renee grabs my hand and asks, “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. It just sucks not to play.” I do realize that having Renee waiting for me after the game eases the pain a bit, so I make an effort to lighten my mood for her benefit. “I’m starving. Do you mind if we grab something to eat before we go to the party?”

  “Hamburger and fries again, American boy?” She pokes me in the side.

  “No, burrito this time.” We stop by my favorite fast food Mexican place that serves awesome burritos. By the time we get to the party it’s in full swing.

  I have to park about a block away because of all the cars. We can hear the music all the way from the sidewalk outside the house.

  “What will the party be like?” asks Renee.

  “I don’t really know. I don’t go to many of these parties. I guess there’ll be music and dancing and maybe food. Some people will be drinking and maybe smoking pot, but not everyone. That’s really why I haven’t gone to these much. I’m not into the party scene.”

  “Well, it could be fun. I love dancing.” She links her arm through mine as we approach the door. “You know, drinking is different in Europe. Kids drink watered-down wine with meals from the time we’re very young. It’s not a big deal.”

  The door is ajar, so we go right in. A few people are in the entryway who I don’t know. Pulsing light and music is coming from further down a hallway going towards the back of the house, so we make our way down the corridor towards the light. It’s dark in the kitchen except for colored lights flashing and a strobe light pulsing from somewhere in the adjacent family room where people are dancing. I see Paul standing by the kitchen table eating Cheetos and drinking a Coke.

  “Hey,” I say when we get up to where he’s standing.

  “Hey, big guy! You made it.” He claps me on the shoulder, hopefully with the hand that isn’t covered with orange Cheetos cheesiness, and looks at Renee. “Introduce me to your friend, why don’t you?”

  “This is Renee.” Paul wipes his hand on a napkin and then extends it to her. “And this is Paul—he’s captain of the Varsity team and a world-class striker.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Renee says, as she takes his hand and they shake. I’m impressed that she doesn’t flinch away from possible Cheetos-contamination.

  “Very nice to meet you,” Paul says. At least he didn’t bow and kiss her hand like Cole.

  “So what’s going on?” I ask.

  “I think Will and Bonnie are outside and Cole is going crazy on the dance floor. What is with that guy? The girls love him.” He shrugs. “The rest of the guys are all over the place. If you want something to drink, there’s a cooler of soda by the back door. None of the hard stuff for you, dude, we’re in training.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m not into that,” I say over my shoulder as I get drinks for Renee and me from the cooler.

  “I see some people from my studio art class over there,” Renee says when I hand her a drink. She points to a group of two girls and a guy on the other side of the kitchen. “I’m going over to say hello.” I don’t know any of them, but I think I’ve seen the girl with the long red hair before. She’d be hard to miss. The guy I’ve never seen before but I notice him right away. For some reason, I immediately don’t like him. It’s a gut reaction I can’t explain.

  “Okay,” I say, adding, “be careful,” which I realize is an odd thing to say to someone who’s just going across the room at a party. Renee gives me a funny look.

  “I mean, have fun.” She gives me a kiss on the cheek, and I take a sip of my drink so I can watch her over the rim of my can as she walks over to the group and greets them. The girls squeal and hug her and the guy puts his hand on her arm, which really bugs me, but I’m not sure if it’s because he’s giving me the creeps or because I’m jealous somehow, which would be weird, too.

  “Nice,” says Paul, pulling my attention away.

  “Off limits,” I reply. Not that I’m worried. It’s Paul for chrissake.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. You’re just worried that she’ll be overwhelmed by my Asian charm and good looks.”

  “Not what I was thinking, but if it makes you happy.”

  “So, actually, I’m glad you’re here, because Will’s been acting really uncool.” Paul puts his drink down on the table and turns to me with a worried expression, a crease forming between his brows. “He brought a couple six-packs with him and he’s been pounding beers all night. Bonnie’s trying to get him to stop, but it’s not working. I didn’t even know he drank.” He stops and runs a hand through his dark hair. “Maybe you can talk to him. Coach finds out he’s drinking and he could be suspended or kicked off the team.”

  “Okay, I’ll try. He hasn’t been too easy to deal with lately.” I walk over and tell Renee that I’m going outside. She’s laughing with her friends and the guy is standing really close to her and leaning in to talk to her. This really gets me, but I ignore it. When I open the sliding glass doors leading onto the deck, a whoosh of warm air hits me, displacing the temperaturecontrolled air inside the house. Groups of people are standing around talking, and some people are smoking cigarettes. Will and Bonnie are in a corner by the railing with a group of Bonnie’s friends and a couple of guys from the cross country team; the only other sport that runs as much as soccer players. I make my way over to them.

  “You made it!” Will says, and raises his beer can to toast me.

  “Having fun?” I ask him, indicating the beer.

  “Sure, just celebrating our undefeated status.” He chugs a drink. “A little beer never hurt anyone. Everything in moderation. You want one?” He points to the mini cooler at his feet.

  “No thanks. I don’t want anything to jeopardize our winning streak—like being suspended for drinking. You know Coach Swenson doesn’t make exceptions.”

  “Yeah, well how’s he gonna find out? Relax, I already have a mom. Hey, but maybe you can be my dad.” The others standing around us have been watching our exchange in silence and now they laugh nervously. Maybe it was a mistake to start right in with the drinking. I guess I don’t get any points for subtlety. I meet Bonnie’s eyes, and she gives me a pained look.

  “Just be cool, okay?”

  “I’m always cool. Cool is my middle name.” He takes another swig from the can.

  “Asplunth!” One of the football players from a group across the deck calls out. “I hear the soccer team is winning—hell-yeah!” He holds up his own can as a salute. It’s in a drink cozy, but I think it’s safe to assume that it’s beer, too.

  “Yeah!” Will calls back. He raises his beer and says, “To winning!” Then he downs what’s left in the can and gets another from the cooler. A small cheer goes up from the others gathered on the deck and several of them toast each other with whatever they’re drinking. Bonnie and I silently look at each other across the group.

  I’m not celebrating mostly because I don’t want to encourage Will, but also because once again I don’t feel like I participated in tonight’s win. I’ve never had to sit out before unless I was injured. It sucks, is all I can say. I stay outside and talk to the cross country guys for a few minutes and manage to get Bonnie aside and tell her to let me know if Will gets really out of control. Will essentially ignores me, so I go back inside. I want to see Renee, anyway.

  Paul is still stationed at the food table watching the dancing, but now he’s moved on to Chex Mix.

  “Did you see what I mean about Will?” he asks.

  “You’re right, but he’s not gonna listen to
me or anyone else right now. I told Bonnie to come and get me if she needs help.”

  “We definitely need to look out for him. He’s never acted like this before.” Paul sounds really concerned, so I say, “He’s dealing with some shit at home right now, so that could be part of it. I’ll try to talk to him about it when he’s not drinking.” I look around for Renee, but she’s not where she was when I went outside. “Have you seen Renee?”

  “I think she’s somewhere in the crowd dancing with Cole. At least that’s where I saw her last.”

  I scan the throng of people gyrating in the darkened room. It’s hard to see by only the light of the strobe, but I locate her dancing with a group of girls and Cole on the far side of the room, so I wend my way over to them, dodging bodies as I go. It figures once again that Cole would be surrounded by girls. I wonder if he realizes that they think of him as their safe guyfriend and not in a boyfriend way. He does seem kind of asexual. Not hetero or gay. Not that it matters, but still …

  I tap Renee on the shoulder and she turns to face me, still moving to the beat. I’m not the world’s best dancer, but I can bust a move now and then, so I join in. The music’s turned up loud and we can’t hear to talk, so I just smile and watch her sway and turn, her dark hair swinging around her shoulders. The beat of the bass throbs rhythmically in time with the beating of my heart.

  We stay at the party another hour or so, and I check on Will one more time before we leave. He’s not acting too wasted, and Bonnie gives me a smile and a nod, so I figure I don’t need to babysit.

  I pull Cole out of the dancing crowd where he’s still holding court with all the girls whose boyfriends won’t dance to let him know that we’re leaving. “Do you need a ride?” I ask him.

  “No, I’ll go with Will and Bonnie to keep an eye on the wildman and drive him home if I need to.” He’s breathing heavily and pushes his sweaty hair back from his face. “The pool’s open all afternoon tomorrow if you want to come by.”