The Field

by Tracy Richardson

  I’m left just looking at the black panel with all the little lights. I decide to start at the bottom and work my way up. Seems as logical as any of this can be. I think Light up! And Turn on! And…nothing happens. I try imagining the meter moving up, registering some energy flow. I think about energy flowing from me to the light bulbs. I imagine the lights glowing and blinking and all sorts of other things, and … nothing. This goes on for about half an hour and I’m starting to get really tired and frustrated and I’m also thinking that this is really stupid. I’m about ready to give up and I’m just looking at the lowest light bulb, not really thinking about how it will light up, just seeing it glowing in my imagination … and I think I see it flicker. The meter moved just a tiny bit. It didn’t last very long, and I’m not positive it really happened. I try to get the same feeling again, and this time I’m sure the bulb glowed for just an instant.

  I jump out of my chair. “Hey! Stephen, Dr. Auberge—I think I did it!” They come quickly over from where they have been working across the room. “The lowest bulb definitely flickered on for a moment.”

  “Really?” Dr. Auberge says. “Stephen, would you check the data records please?” Stephen is already standing at the computer terminal pulling up the data.

  “Yes, there are definitely two small surges of energy here. You really did it!” He turns and gives me a big hug, which I wasn’t really expecting, but what the hell! I’m pretty stoked, too, so I hug him back. When Stephen releases me, Dr. Auberge clasps my hand in both of his and shakes it vigorously.

  “This is wonderful, Eric. Really wonderful. Do you think you can do it again, while we are observing?”

  “I’ll try.” I sit back down facing the panel and focus on the light bulb. It takes a few minutes for me to capture the feeling I had before, and I’m more than a little nervous with the two of them watching, but eventually, the meter moves up a fraction and the light bulb briefly glows.

  “Two successes in one evening. I couldn’t be more pleased. I know you’re probably tired and ready to go home, but perhaps you could practice for just a few minutes more until you really feel comfortable with how to do it? That way you won’t have to relearn the technique for next time.”

  “No problem.” I stay for another fifteen minutes and by the time I leave, I’m able to get the light to glow a little brighter and stay on a bit longer, but I’m not always able to do it. I’m still not totally sure how I’m doing it.

  Driving home on the familiar streets of town past neighborhoods filled with people doing normal, everyday things makes it hard to reconcile what happened in the lab. I mean, I’m driving my mom’s minivan—it doesn’t get much more mundane than that. But then, things like smart phones and computers would have seemed like magic to people not that long ago. More than anything, it makes me wonder what other things could be out there in the world that we don’t know about. What other abilities could we have that we’ve yet to discover?

  It’s late when I get home; only the light over the kitchen sink is still on downstairs. My parents are in their bedroom getting ready for bed, so I knock on their door and stick my head in to let them know I’m home. I’m about to go down the hall to my room, but as I pass Drew’s room I stop. Would the note be there? I put my hand on the knob and for a moment I’m almost afraid to find out. Then I remember Drew in his Spiderman pajamas leaving me a note with a spaceship on it, and I realize there’s nothing to be afraid of.

  The knob makes a soft click when I turn it. Light from the hallway spills in a rectangle across the floor and onto Drew sleeping in bed. Ralph is still curled up at the foot of the bed. He lifts his head and thumps his tail when he sees me. I walk quietly over to the bed and stroke Ralph’s head. Drew has both arms flung out to the sides. His chest rises and falls and his breath whiffles slightly through his nose. Spidey stares back at me from the front of his pajama top. I step onto the wooden bedframe and hoist myself up so I can see the top bunk. The note is lying on the solar system comforter. Right on top of Saturn. I pick it up and see in Drew’s little boy writing, “Hi, Eric!” and the picture of the spaceship with a boy, probably Drew himself, blasting off into space.

  15

  DREW IS EATING cereal at the kitchen table when I come down in the morning. I get a glass of orange juice and a bowl and spoon and sit down next to him.

  “Did it work?” he says excitedly. “Did you see my note?”

  I pour cereal and milk into my bowl before I answer. “Yeah, I saw your note. Thanks, buddy. It really did work,” I say quietly. For some reason I don’t want my whole family to be in on it, to start analyzing and talking about it. Unfortunately, my mom walks in just then and Drew has other ideas.

  “I knew it! Ralph saw you, didn’t he? Did you hear me talk to you?” It’s like a totally normal thing to him.

  “What’s so exciting? What did Ralph see?” Mom comes over to the table and ruffles Drew’s hair with the hand not holding her coffee mug.

  “Eric was doing experiments with Bacon last night and he came to my room! I left him a note on the top bunk and he saw it!”

  “He did?” She looks at me with a little smile, as if to say, ‘isn’t Drew cute, let’s humor him.’

  “Yeah, I think I actually did,” I say in a serious tone. The smile slowly fades from her face, replaced by a look of mild shock. “We were doing remote viewing experiments with a personal object, and I used Bacon. I saw the note Drew left me and I’m pretty sure Ralph knew I was there.” It feels weird to be even saying what happened out loud.

  “Wow.” She sits down at the table. I guess that’s not what she expected me to say. “Really? You really did that?” She’s sounding more incredulous now. I just nod and shrug. “How do you do something like that?”

  “That’s the thing, I don’t really know exactly how I did it. It sort of just happened.” I look at her out of the corner of my eye. She’s sitting in the kitchen chair holding her coffee, and even though she looks a little stunned, she’s not totally freaking out or anything. “So do you actually believe me? You don’t seem completely shocked.” Part of the reason I didn’t want to talk about it is that I was pretty sure most people wouldn’t believe me. It’s like saying I was abducted by aliens or something.

  “Remember that summer a couple years ago when Marcie got President Swindoll to stop development of those homes in James Woods at the lake? And the next summer when we were doing the archaeological dig? She was having visions and premonitions about things that turned out to be very real. I’m also pretty sure that my grandmother was clairvoyant or had second sight, so it’s not surprising to me that you would have it too.”

  “Well, it was pretty surprising to me.”

  “Do I have second sight, too?” Drew says very seriously.

  “You could. Maybe we all do, honey.” She finishes her coffee and checks the clock on the wall. “You’d better get your stuff together to catch the bus, Drew.” He jumps down from the table and gets his backpack, giving Mom a hug on his way to the door. “Bye Eric!” he calls as the door slams shut behind him.

  “What about you?” I ask her.

  “You mean, do I have premonitions or visions?” She sets down her coffee. “Well, I don’t think I do a very good job of cultivating it. I’m too practical in many ways, but there have certainly been times when I’ve gotten feelings about you kids or your dad that I paid attention to which turned out to be true.” She looks at me for a moment. “How do you feel about it?”

  Of course, she’s nailed the basic question. Is this something I want? High school isn’t exactly the time you want to be different in a weird way. “I’m not sure. In some ways it’s amazing and in some ways it scares me.”

  “Perhaps if you try to think of it as a gift, as something very positive, it won’t be frightening.” Easy for you to say, Miss Practical.

  “You’re probably right.” I haven’t even told her about the Universal Energy Field stuff. Dad would probably be more into that anyway. I get up a
nd put my dishes in the sink. “I gotta go. Will’s on his way over.”

  “How is Will doing? I haven’t seen him around much lately.”

  “He’s alright, I guess. He’s kind of being a jerk, really.”

  “He must be dealing with a lot of things at home. Maybe cut him some slack.”

  I mumble something under my breath and go outside to wait for him. He’s obviously dealing with a lot of crap at home, but does that mean that I have to put up with his crap? Driving in together in the morning and soccer practice is really the only time I see him anymore. He’s so focused on being cool and hanging out with his new friends, that he doesn’t have much time or interest in me anymore. And I definitely can’t talk to him about what’s happening in the lab because he thinks it’s all nuts and that I’m trying to weasel my way into the internship. Which is really funny because Will is so totally not focused on school or anything other than hanging out. I don’t know if he’s even applied for the internship. He may have moved on from our friendship, but he’s still competing with me.

  THE BELL RINGS for the end of first period. Renee leans back, lays her head on my desk, and looks up at me and smiles. Which starts that familiar slow burn inside my chest. At least one thing is going right for me. I lean forward and kiss her on the forehead.

  We’re still getting our books and backpacks together when Cole and Will come over from the back of the room.

  “Has this guy been treating you right?” Cole asks Renee, putting his hand on my shoulder. “Because, if he hasn’t, I am prepared to step in for him at any time.”

  I know he’s just being Cole, and even if he’s really half in love with Renee, he wouldn’t ever actually do anything and I shouldn’t be jealous, but this really bugs me. The warm feeling I had a minute ago quickly turns into a cold knot in the pit of my stomach. I’m not really the possessive type, but this feeling keeps coming up. It’s not jealousy exactly, more like … fear.

  She laughs and says, “Thanks, Cole, but I’m pretty happy with Eric.” She looks at me and smiles. This eases the knot a little, but not entirely.

  Will pushes past Cole to get to the door. “Hey, dude, move over. I’ve got to get to U.S. History on the other side of school. I’ll see you guys later.”

  “It was nice talking with you, too, Mr. Asplunth.,” Cole says to Will’s retreating back.

  “Is everything okay?” Renee asks, seeing Cole and me exchange looks.

  “Yeah, everything’s cool. Will’s just being a jerk, that’s all. Nothing new, though,” I say as I hoist my backpack onto my shoulder.

  “Are you sure?” she says, her voice trailing off and looking first at me and then at Cole, who just shrugs.

  “Not a big deal, really. Don’t worry about it,” I say cheerfully, trying to avoid further discussion. “Here, I’ll walk you to your next class.” I gently propel her forward down the aisle toward the door. “I’ll catch you at lunch, Cole.”

  “Au revoir, mes amis,” he says.

  Renee turns and says, “A bientôt!”

  “What did you say?” I ask as we join the crush of students in the hallway.

  “He said ‘goodbye, my friends’ and I said ‘see you later.’ It’s nice to be able to speak French with someone besides my family.”

  “I guess,” I say, but I can’t shake that feeling of anxiety. What’s that all about? Will’s crappy attitude isn’t helping my mood much either.

  16

  I JERK AWAKE when something smacks the back of my head.

  Paul pulls out my ear buds and yells, “Dude, wake up! We’re gonna be there in like ten minutes.”

  I groggily open my eyes and shake my head. Paul’s walking up and down the aisle of the bus waking up the rest of the team. I’d grabbed a window seat on the bus and shoved my soccer bag against the window as a pillow and was asleep as soon as we pulled out of the parking lot at 7 a.m. Everyone else is crashed out too. I pull out my phone and check the time. It’s a little after ten. Our game’s at noon against Fort Ben.

  I lean my head back against the seat and try to focus and visualize making great saves. Today’s game is big both for the team and for me. It’s my chance to really show what I can do and my pre-game nerves are pretty bad. I know they won’t really go away until my first touch of the ball during the game when I can stop thinking about being nervous and just play. Being nervous in the goal is about the worst thing you can be. I have to be totally relaxed and totally focused.

  “Hey big guy,” Will leans over the seat in front of me. “It’s our defensive unit today. Shut out.” He holds out his hand to fist bump me.

  “Shut out,” I say decisively and bump my fist into his.

  “So, Fort Ben has a couple of strong strikers to watch out for, but no real stand out. They don’t hesitate to take shots, so you’ll need to be ready.”

  “I’m ready.” I know that I can do this. Make the big saves. I’ve done it before. About a thousand times. “Hey, with you out there at center back, there won’t be anything for me to save. We’ve got this.”

  “You got that right.” Will turns back around in his seat.

  I pull out a couple of granola bars from my bag and my water bottle. I won’t get to eat again until after the game hours from now.

  We pull into the parking lot, gather our gear and walk over to the field. After the usual stretching and warm up, Coach Swenson has Brett and me warm each other up in the goal. He hasn’t actually told us who’s starting today, so it’s possible that it could be Brett, but he’s been pretty consistent with alternating us, so it should be my turn to play. I feel good—strong and loose—it feels good to get the first dives in and start hitting the ground. When the team lines up to take practice shots, I forget about being nervous; I’m too busy diving and punching and making saves.

  The stands are filling up with fans. A lot of people came from Monroe because it’s such an important game. Coach calls us over for the team talk and the lineup. I’m starting. Yes. But then my stomach starts clenching again with nerves and I work on slow breathing. Paul comes over as we’re lining up to jog across the field to the stands.

  “You’re gonna own the box today. You’re the Beast,” he says and punches me on the shoulder.

  “Totally, dude.”

  We jog across the field and wave to the fans as they call out our names. Everyone is screaming and waving towels. The players all have our game faces on and are trying to stay focused and calm. My parents and Drew are here, Renee and Bonnie and Cole, too. Will’s parents are both here, but not sitting together. Our side of the stands are covered in purple and white, Monroe’s colors.

  It’s game time. I jog to my end of the field, fastening my gloves. My routine in the goal is always the same. I touch the sides of the goal and the crossbar and then stand in the center and do a few jumps to get loose. Bring it.

  The play stays in midfield for a while, both teams fighting for possession. We’re pretty evenly matched. I stay alert and watch the play, calling out marks to my team. Goalkeepers often end up making good coaches because we see all of the action and patterns of play, not just one portion of the field. It’s a little like being the quarterback except instead of calling plays, we direct the defense.

  One of Fort Ben’s strikers is cherry picking in the midfield, waiting for the pass so he can turn it toward the goal. Twice I’ve had to yell at my defenders to cover him. I’m about halfway into the penalty area so I can intercept a through ball, but still get back if I need to cover the goal. We’ve been battling for the ball on the right side of the field and our players aren’t having any luck gaining control.

  “Switch!” I yell to my players to get them to swing the ball to the left side, where our midfielder is wide open.

  Our center mid sends the ball across, but the Fort Ben striker makes a spectacular move and leaps into the air to win the ball. He quickly settles it and takes off, sprinting towards me and the goal. The distance between us narrows. My heart starts pounding, sendi
ng adrenaline coursing through me. If I run to meet him and he gets around me, it’s a goal. Will has caught up with him and is pushing him wide left. I hold my line and cover the goal, anticipating the shot. He muscles past Will and is barreling full speed towards me. The shot! Now! Dive! It flashes into my head. Make the save!

  He rips off a rocket to the far post. I’m propelled by a sudden surge of power, diving right, full out. I catch the ball in my gut and wrap my arms around it. A one-pound missile. Then, wham, the striker plows into me and nails me with a kick right in my ribs before he flips over and lands on his back on the hardpacked ground in the goalmouth.

  I’m gasping for breath—it’s like all the air has been sucked out of my lungs. There’s a stabbing pain on my left side, but I’ve still got the ball. I made the save.

  I lay there for a minute to catch my breath and gather myself. I had that feeling again. Knowing where the ball is going before the shot is taken. But there was something more this time. In the moment when I knew where the shot was going and what I had to do, I got a jolt of adrenaline or energy, or something that catapulted me off my feet. Goalkeeping starts with your using head to read the play, then moving your feet and finishes with your hands. Whatever was going on in my head had let loose some powerful stuff this time.

  “Are you okay?” Will is standing over me when I open my eyes.

  “Yeah, I think so. Just a cracked rib, no problem,” I say sarcastically. I reach out my hand and wince when he pulls me up.

  “Shake it off.” He claps me on the back. “Awesome save. That’ll make him think twice before coming in close for a shot again.” Will is looking right at the Fort Ben player and says this loud enough for him to hear. Just a little trash talk. The striker gets up off the ground and walks slowly up the field. He looks back at me warily. That’s what I want to see. Fear.